pondered his options.
Staying as low as he could, Gaius carefully ran through the field towards a lone pine tree that stood on the outer edge of the dirt road. Stopping every few yards, he listened meticulously for sounds that would indicate that he had been spotted. When he was certain, he had remained undetected, he quickly raced over to the tree that loomed before him, well-concealed against the wide trunk of the century old pine, provided him with shade from the scorching heat of the sun.
Peering around its base to see if anyone was coming down the road, he witnessed no travelers. A part of him hoped that the hunter would be marching down the road, so he may end this tiresome chase once and for all, but he saw no one.
Gaius felt a little more relaxed as he felt perhaps he had finally escaped the Greek who hunted him. He might now be able to complete the mission he was given by his king, without having to fight his way to the prize, the wife of his brother Paris.
Now determined that the way was clear, Gaius readied himself to break from the cover that hid him from prying eyes. As he prepared to dash out into the road, he heard rustling of leaves above him. For a moment, he thought it was a bird, nesting high within the thick branches, but then he heard a high-pitched scream, and knew that the sound was not that of birds.
Gaius barely managed to roll out of the path of his attacker as the man leaped down from the tree, plunging his sword into the dirt where Gaius had been standing.
Covered from head to toe in mud, Gaius rolled to his feet as the Greek quickly withdrew his sword and screamed like a wild animal, before attacking once again.
With a bloodlust in his eyes, he lunged forward in an attempt to impale Gaius with the thick blade of his curved sword. Gaius fainted to the right, dodging the Greek’s violent attack. Before he could counter, however, the hunter swung upward with blinding speed.
Gaius backtracked, managing to stay on his feet as he slipped in the mud. He only now seemed to notice that the Greek warrior had dried mud on his arms and face, which was why he could hide in the tree, well concealed within the shadows of the twisted branches — just waiting for him to make a mistake and drop his guard long enough to launch his surprise attack. A brilliant tactic he hated to admit.
The Greek warrior seemed to be the same age as Gaius, but two inches shorter. His build was slimmer and wiry, which gave him a slight edge, compared to the taller, more muscular Roman. Both men seemed equal in terms of their execution. However, Gaius was better-trained and more controlled in his form, which allowed him to deflect each attack that came at him. The Greek was more violent, and his more aggressive style made it difficult for Gaius to counter without considerable effort.
Gaius knew instinctively that if he kept this up for too long, the more crazed swordsman would overpower him. He needed a plan — enough time to take advantage of his attacker’s weaknesses.
As Gaius blocked another powerful sword strike from the Greek, he noticed that the sun was starting to drop lower over the western sky. He didn’t have much time left. His mission to save his brother’s wife was too important to fail — for if he did, a kingdom would fall.
As his opponent leaped forward, Gaius rolled to his left. The Greek missed wide, which allowed Gaius to reach down and grab a fistful of mud, which he hurled at his attacker’s face.
The Greek, already covered in dried mud, managed to raise his hand in time to block the clump of dirt. Even so, as he readied to attack once more, he saw that his target had fled, darting as quickly as he could across the road and back into the tall field.
“You coward!” the Greek warrior roared as he chased after Gaius, who disappeared before his eyes as the brown grass engulfed him.
Gaius ran as quickly as his tired legs could carry him. This country was his homeland — he had lived, worked and fought here that he knew it as well as his own hand. This he hoped would give him the advantage against the foreigner.
Quickly, Gaius ran around a large boulder that he knew stood several dozen yards down the side of the road. It was just barely big enough to conceal him from view, and perhaps provide the opportunity to set his own ambush.
Gripping his sword tightly, Gaius struggled to control his breathing as his heart raced. The chase was exhilarating, despite being so near to death. A warrior was at most at his peak when faced with his equal, or so he had been taught to believe. Only then could the true test of a warrior’s mettle be proven, and if he survived, he would be greater for it.
Gaius heard the Greek approaching. The man no longer cared for stealth as he was slashing through the wheat with his blade.
“Show yourself you cowering girl!” The taunt might have worked in the past, but Gaius kept his nerve as he waited, ignoring the spiteful comments that the Greek bellowed.
As Gaius peeked over the top of the rock, planning to give the Greek what he was asking for, he steadied his breathing, opened his mind to his surroundings, and waited patiently.
Gaius felt a calming peace come over him. The kill was near. Soon he would be allowed to complete his mission and claim his reward from the honorable king — a prize that would make him a very rich and celebrated hero.
He readied as the Greek neared.
Gaius placed one hand around the hilt of his sword, while the other slowly inched over the top edge of the rock, making sure he had a firm grip on the stone before leaping over; he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, not when he was so close.
The Greek turned abruptly as he heard Gaius’ war cry, as he rose over the edge of the bolder and leaped with his sword held high over his head.
There was nothing the Greek warrior could do, he was completely defenseless, his eyes opening wide as he knew without a doubt that this would be the last thing he would ever see before the end came. However, death did not come as Gaius had planned. Instead of driving his sword through the Greek’s chest, the mud that had yet to dry on his feed caused him to slip. There was nothing he could do as he fell, landing flat on his back, on the ground with a loud
The Greek took advantage of the situation and ran forward. Gaius didn’t have time to regain his footing before the sandaled heel of the Greek’s crashed down onto his chest.
“A valiant effort my opponent, but alas it was a vain one. Now, you shall die,” the Greek yelled as he drove his sword through Gaius’ stomach.
He screamed as the blade was driven through the soft flesh of his belly, twisting as it tore through his entrails. It was not a quick or painless death, but slow and agonizing as the villain laughed, enjoying his victory, at last.
Death was not what troubled Gaius as he breathed his last, as his thought drifted to his failure to complete his vital mission, knowing that the kingdom, he had sworn to protect would fall to the foreign hordes. It was bitter knowledge, worse than the agony he was in now.
The world grew dark as death overtook him. Then, as the Greek roared his victory, Gaius left this world as a defeated hero, slain by his enemy, who would now claim the greatest prize in the known world.
However, darkness did not linger as his eyes opened once more, and his lungs filled with fresh air. He tried to stand back to his feet but could not as the foot of his murderer was still firmly planted on his chest, keeping him pinned to the ground.
“I, Achilles, have defeated the powerful and mighty Hector of Troy. I am now the greatest warrior on the face of the Earth! No man can stand in the path of the great Achilles!”
Gaius tried to stand to his feet, but the would-be-Achilles pushed him back down onto the muddy ground — the same wide grin still evident on his face as he turned his attention to someone else.
“Now I shall claim my prize, my queen, Helen of Troy,” Achilles said with a sinister smile as he stepped over Gaius’ body, walking over to a girl who sat across the road, watching the whole ordeal with wide eyes and a bigger grin.
“Ewww!” the pretender who played the part of Helen of Troy cried out as she sat on the top of a wooden fence, swinging her legs back and forth.
