In Fire And Darkness

Chapter 3: A Fallen Warrior

   The Roman soldiers roared as they charged into the Celtic camp with weapons held high. All heads snapped to them and all eyes widened with fear as more and more soldiers materialised from the darkness, their brass helmets and lustrous armour shining brightly in the glow of the bonfires.

   “Shit!” yelled Abelio. He looked all over the camp, but Ambisagrus was nowhere to be seen. No! He too had underestimated the power and determination of the Romans. What had he been thinking? How could he have dismissed the vital lessons he had learnt as a warrior? Abelio felt so angry at himself for losing his son and leading the entire village to danger. Why hadn't they just abandoned the village and moved north like the chief had suggested?

   “ARRGGHH!” yelled Abelio as he threw himself onto the nearest Roman. “You sons of bitches!” The pair of them went tumbling to the ground and Abelio used the split second advantage he had to drive his dagger into the stomach of the Roman. He knew that it was the weakest region in the Roman's armour from experience. The man screamed a blood curdling scream as Abelio drew the blade out. Abelio quickly silenced him with a stab to the throat and all that came out his mouth now was frothing blood. Standing up and covered in his enemy's blood, the aged Abelio posed a frightening appearance.

   The Celts who were already overwhelmed by the Romans, were in for a bigger surprise as more men charged in from behind them. All the men and the women capable of fighting were locked in combat, trying to push back the Roman attack; and were putting up a good fight good fight too, until a new wave of terror struck them from behind. They didn't stand a chance. If the forest had been loud a few minutes ago, it was nothing compared to the shouts of men and clanking of metal that was taking place now. Already Abelio saw a few Celts lying dead on the ground, and he was happy to notice that an equal number of dead Romans lay on the ground too. He frantically searched for signs of Ambisagrus, but the boy was nowhere to be found!

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    Ambisagrus was terrified as he saw the Romans charging at them from the other side of camp. He stood with the childern and women not able to fight in a particularly dense patch of the forest. The Romans were approaching, and would definitely find their hiding place. He locked eyes with Drest and Bricius and they instantaneously understood each other.

  "Don't!" said Bricius.

  Ignoring his words of warning, Ambisagrus ran into the middle of the clearing and waved his hands in the air, trying to make himself as noticable as possible. All that bravery and courage he and his friends had talked about earlier drained out of him as a Roman came charging towards him. Ambisagrus stood rooted in place, too scared to even move. The man ran right up to Ambisagrus and instead of stabbing him right away, punched Ambisagrus with a deadly upper-cut. The boy was lifted right off his feet and landed with a bone crunching crash to the ground. Tears filled his eyes and blood filled his mouth as he spit out two teeth.

   But the Roman was not done with him just yet. With a single hand, the man lifted Ambisagrus up and shouted right in his face. He did not understand what was being said, but Ambisagrus did know that he was a dead man. The Roman shouted some more and drew his sword back, ready to stab Ambisagrus. The boy looked on with terrified eyes was the man smiled a most wicked smile. He closed his eyes, accepting the fact that he was going to die. He hoped that it would be quick.

   But fate had different plans for Ambisagrus because at that precise moment, Drest and Bricius came charging out of the woods and stabbed the man in the back. Ambisagrus dropped to the ground, in an even bigger mess than he was before.

   “You're crazy you know that?” said Drest with a grin as the two of them lifted him up. Ambisagrus just groaned in response.

   Their little reunion was cut short by the arrival of more Romans, some of them even bigger and looking more fierce than the one that they had just slain. But half of them hurried off, fully confident that not many men were required to deal with a bunch of scrawny teenagers. Three fully grown Roman soldiers versus three sixteen year old boys... not good odds.

   Backs against each other and surrounded by the Romans, Ambisagrus, Drest and Bricius held out their daggers feebly. Their fear still showed on their faces, but now with the adrenaline pumping through their blood in a way that only courses through the body when in the gravest of danger, the three boys were ready to do anything to survive. Their eyes studied the Romans, their hands balancing the daggers in their hands, shifting their weight from foot to foot in a familiar manner. They were about to see if their days of playing sword fighting in the woods was about to pay off. Head still pounding from the blow he had suffered, and blood oozing steadily from his mouth, Ambisagrus was in not a good mood. He whispered to Bricius and Drest as quietly as possible “They are big men, stay as close to them when fighting.” They both nodded, familiar with the techniques to deal with large enemies. It was now or never.

   Moving as one, the three boys rushed at the Romans, wanting to use their small size and agility to their advantage. As Ambisagrus moved towards one of them, the soldier moved his arm in the same way the other one who had first attacked him did. Anticipating his move, Ambisagrus dodged to the opposite direction and brought his dagger into the part of the Roman's body closest to him – the stomach. The Roman stumbled to the ground, clutching his abdomen. He wouldn't be going anywhere.

   With numbers on their side, the three boys finished off the remaining Romans. They stood there, panting and chests heaving as they looked down at their first kill. Maybe not their first 'kill', they had left the Romans on the ground severely injured; none of them had the courage to actually kill them.

    “We should do this more often.” beamed Bricius.

    “By the Dagda! We actually defeated Roman warriors” said Drest.

   “Don't get excited just yet,” said Ambisagrus, “There are plenty more.”

    And then a cry reached their ears. Turning towards the source of the sound, Ambisagrus' eyes fell on the collapsing form of an old man. Abelio! No!

    Ambisagrus got a good look at the man who had brought down Abelio. The Roman turned away with a sneer as he moved on to the next man. Ignoring all common sense, Ambisagrus ran over to Abelio, praying that he wasn't greviously injured.

    “No! No! Father!”, cried Ambisagrus as he reached the fallen man, placing Abelio's head in his lap. Abelio was slashed all over his body; the old man had put up quite a fight, but his age had led to downfall.

    “Ambisagrus!” said Abelio is a hoarse voice, “Get away from this place. Flee!”

    “But you - ”

    “No!” gasped Abelio, “You must go! Live to fight another day.”

    “But - ”

    “Listen to me boy! You are the son I have never had, make me proud by taking that bastard's head. But not today. Not today.”

    Tears were flowing freely down Ambisagrus' cheeks, “No... no... ” He couldn't believe the man who had raised him was dying in his arms.

    “Listen to me my son” said Abelio, “I ...” he gasped, “I... I love you.” And with that, Abelio's body lay still.

    Sobbing uncontrollably now, Ambisagrus held Abelio's head in his hands. No, no, no... This can't be happening! But in all the madness surrounding him, Ambisagrus wasn't even allowed to mourn in peace. Drest and Bricius peeled Ambisagrus away from Abelio's dead body.

    “We must go!” said Drest. He and Bricius half lifted, half dragged Ambisagrus back to their dense path of forest.