Descendants of Rome (#3 in Gladiator Series)

Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Fresh blood flowed down the edge of the roman's blade before pooling at the tip and dripping to the ground beside Diomed.

The guard, not seeing Frieda, began to raise his bloodied sword once more towards Diomed's head.

Frieda tore the bow from over her shoulders, her fingers reaching for an arrow from her quiver when she clasped nothing but air.

Her heart seemed to stop beating as she looked down at her quiver and saw that it was empty.

Her sword lay ten feet away and her daggers were strewn across the battlefield, imbedded in the dead bodies of other roman soldiers.

Frieda's mind was raring at double its normal speed whilst her eyes were glued to Diomed's back, trying to make out if he was still breathing.

The guard was now talking to him and Frieda could spot his shoulder's moving slightly as he inhaled and exhaled with difficulty.

Remembering the dagger that she had sunk into a guard's neck, Frieda turned quickly to collect it when something heavy hit her on the side of her face, sending her sprawling onto the mud.

Gasping, Frieda clutched at her bow which lay beneath her twisted body, as she looked back to see the underside of a sandal descending onto her head, ready to thrash her into the earth.

Rolling to the side, Frieda tried to pull her bow along after her when the tip became caught on a small mound of grass and it was trapped beneath the soldier's sandal.

Looking past the man's leg, Frieda saw that Diomed had lifted his head and was talking back to the man.

Why wasn't he fighting? Diomed-

Frieda couldn't call out as the edge of sword flashed at the corner of her eye and she ducked, lying herself flat against the ground, narrowly avoiding the tip of the blade.

She glared up at the soldier in anger.

Abandoning her bow, Frieda rolled away once more before she clambered to her feet and turned to face her opponent.

He had kicked her bow away and was advancing on her, sword held out to the front.

Frieda could not afford to get stuck here.

Watching him approach carefully, Frieda stepped forward and kicked the sword from his hand. It flew high into the air.

As her foot rested back upon the ground, Frieda spun and lifted her other leg. This time her boot connected with the underside of the man's jaw, knocking his head back.

With her back to his front, Frieda quickly elbowed him in the nose when he regained his balance.

Enjoying the small shout of pain he emitted, Frieda looked ahead as she reached her arm up into the air to catch his sword as it fell back down towards them.

Her eyes saw the body of a Roman guard running towards her, his head down and level with her waist.

Looking up, Frieda begged the sword to fall faster.

She glanced to her right and saw that Diomed and his killer had stopped talking. His sword was raised once more to Diomed's throat.

Please.

The sword continued to fall when the hilt brushed past her fingertips.

Yes!

Clamping her fingers around the hilt, Frieda brought the sword down just as the guard, who was running at her like a bull, clamped his arm around her hips.