EMBERS (Marcus Acacius)

IX | Behind Enemy Lines

I stood at the edge of the chaotic expanse that was the battlefield, medical satchel in hand and a determined glint in my eyes. My fellow healers stood around me, mentally preparing themselves for what was about to happen. I had spent my career out of the way of the fight, tending to the injured that had managed to escape the battle. But today was different.

There were bodies scattered everywhere; some dead, but many still breathing—but barely. I marched forward, bending down next to the first person I came across. Cries of fury and rage echoed all around, accompanied by the clang of metal on metal as swords clashed together.

"I'm here," I assured the groaning man as I honed in on the weeping gash on his leg. "You'll be fine." I never truly knew if my patients would be alright, but it calmed them to hear me say the words, so I did. If they were going to die, it didn't help to stress them in their final moments. "I've got you."

It was impossible to drown out the sounds of war, so I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to focus on the work in front of me. I started by pouring water over the nasty wound, dabbing it with a cloth and finally stitching it back up with a needle and thread. Once the bandage was firmly secured around the wound, I slowly helped the man to his feet so a nurse could lead him off the battlefield.

I scanned around for another patient, but my eyes landed on something else. A group of enemy soldiers, mounted on proud white destriers, galloped towards me, slowing down when they neared. I looked around; there were no rebels around. The enemies surrounded me, extinguishing any chance of escape.

I stepped back slowly, trying to maintain my distance, while instinctively reaching for the dagger hidden in my boot. It was a last resort, but I was prepared to fight if necessary.

Suddenly, one of the enemy soldiers dismounted their steed and made towards me. I held up the dagger as a warning, but it did nothing to deter him. He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back. I struggled shamelessly, kicking at him with the toe of my boot, but it made no impact against his armour.

"Stay still," the soldier grunted, restraining my other hand behind my back and wrenching the dagger from my grasp. "It won't do you any good to resist."

Reluctantly, I obliged, letting him cuff my hands together and drag me towards his horse. The others watched on impassively as he held the reins with one hand and pushed me along with the other. "Where are you taking me?" I asked, a tremor in my voice.

"Shut up."

I wasn't one to follow orders blindly. "Where are you taking me?"

"Do you have a death wish?" He shoved me forward harshly, but I kept my balance. "Or are you just stupid?"

I gritted my teeth in anger, but let him lead me along without further protest. Some of the rebels turned to watch with intrigue as a small woman—unarmed and unthreatening—was marched towards enemy lines by six men on war horses. It must have been a sight.

"Adriana!" I would recognise Acacius' voice anywhere and my chest flooded with relief. He galloped to meet our interesting party, pulling his black mount to a stop in front of us. "What is this? She's a medic; you have no right—"

"Step aside, traitor." The enemy soldier's voice dripped with vitriol as he drew his sword. "Believe me, I won't shed any tears over your demise."

My eyes went wide as Acacius drew his own sword. "So be it."

"Acacius, no!" The soldiers around me chuckled. Even he must have known he wouldn't be able to win this fight. One against six were impossible odds. Acacius was a formidable fighter—there was no doubt about that in my mind—but even he didn't stand a chance. "Don't do this. It's not worth it."