second. He clutched his wound, and fell to the ground, screaming in agony. The fear for my friend was surpassed only, when in an attempt to save his life, Helena, having lost her shield, killed his attacker, but had unintentionally turned her back on the last.
The remaining enemy leapt at her, smashed her sword from her hand, grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. Helena found herself starring eye to eye with a short, ugly Roman Praetorian who wore a smile of pure evil. Whether it was some remnant of the orb’s power, or just some sick fetish over knowing his foe was a woman, I’d never know. The Praetorian moved his hand to her throat, the other still gripping his sword, and he paused for a brief second, just long enough for my eyes to widen in terror.
Helena tried to struggle against his grip, fighting to pry loose his hand with her own, but as tough as she was, there was little she could do. I saw her try to kick the man in the groin, but missed, catching him on the leg instead. Maneuvering his body to make sure she didn’t succeed on her second kick, he looked up at her and smiled. She struggled and fought, but exhausted and outmuscled, the Praetorian cocked his arm back, and ran her through the stomach with the tip of his gladius. The sword made contact with her skin an inch below the protection of her combat vest, and with nothing to impede its progress, pushed its way straight through her back. Her green eyes ballooned open in pain and surprise, and her struggling ended.
I was already running before she’d kicked him, uncontrollable sounds of rage spilling from my throat, all feelings of fatigue or pain forgotten, Quintilius yelling after me. Adrenaline kicked my muscles into overdrive, but despite all my training, all my conditioning, I couldn’t make it, and I watched from five feet away, as the man moved to finish her.
He still held Helena on his sword, starring at her, looking as though he thought to further violate her in some way when, while still at a dead run, forgetting my legion training once again, I swung my sword with all my might and severed the man’s head from his shoulders. I released my sword as I finished my cut, allowing both head and gladius to sail through the air, not caring who they hit.
Helena was already falling with the decapitated Praetorian.
I wheeled around, and slid beneath Helena as she collapsed in my arms, the Praetorian’s grip still on the sword handle and her throat. I tore both away and kicked the body out of my sight. Cradling Helena’s limp body, I reached with a trembling hand to cup her cheek, while I pulled a bandage out of a pouch with the other. Knowing not to try and remove the sword, I put as much pressure on the wound as possible, a fruitless gesture, as I was completely oblivious to the mirror wound at her back.
She moaned under the pressure, but at least she was still alive. I turned her head so she could face me, and I felt tears welling in my eyes at the sight of her graying skin. I smiled down at her, trying to put on a brave face as I gently rocked her in my arms.
“What did I say about getting hurt?” I asked her, my voice faltering. “Only me, remember?”
She was so weak that when she tried to raise a hand to my cheek, it barely brushed it before falling to her side. A spasm of pain wracked her entire body, and she clenched each limb in unison, before going limp in my arms again.
“I’m sorry, Jacob,” she whispered. “So sorry.”
“Don’t be, you’ll be fine. Wang will be here any second now, and you’ll be fine. You’ll be… fine.” I looked up, frantically searching for Wang, but he was nowhere in sight. The only thing I saw was the battle coming to a close with Praetorians dying and surrendering all around us. If only Helena could have hung on a few more minutes. If only she hadn’t been so stupid. So brave.
If only I hadn’t left her side like I said I never would.
Santino wandered up to us a few seconds later, clutching a superficial leg wound. His eyes were glazed, a thousand yard stare so prevalent amongst battle worn veterans on his face. No smile in sight. When his mind caught up to what his eyes were seeing, a look of shock and confusion spread over his face as he stared down at the dying woman he’d come to call a friend.
“Find Wang,” I told him quietly, but Santino didn’t move. He just stood there transfixed, unable or unwilling to comprehend what was happening. “Find, Wang, Goddamn it!” I yelled, my voice cracking.
Hearing the pain and anger in my voice, he snapped himself from his trance and ran off to find our medic.
I looked back down at Helena, brushing dirty black hair from her face. “See? Everything’s going to be fine.” My hand shook uncontrollably and my heart pounded like a drum as I wiped blood from her mouth. “Everything’s going to be… to be…”
I couldn’t finish. I squeezed my eyes shut and held her as close as I could. I pulled her against my chest and tried to will life back into her, but all the fire in her eyes were gone. Eyes that had once been her most alluring and vibrant feature somehow seemed to be slowly dimming to a dull gray.
She tried to smile for me, but coughed violently as she did. “I…it’s okay, Jacob. I…” she said, looking back up at me, the quickest of sparks firing in her eyes, before another spike of pain forced her body into another series of spasms. “…I…” but her voice trailed off, her body fell still, and her eyes closed.
I knew what she was going to say. I knew because I didn’t need her to say it for me to know it. I wanted to say something back. Something funny. Something hopeful. Something redeeming. I wanted to tell her I loved her too, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t. All I could do was hold her close, feel as the last traces of life left her body, and for the first time since I could remember…
Cry.
Epilogue
Rome, Italy
August, 38 A.D.
Someone knocked on my door. It was a quiet sound, but the sudden and unexpected nature of it roused me from my thoughts. It startled me, and I pinched my nose and swore under my breath in response. I looked at my surroundings, trying to remember where I was.
The suites we had been given once Caligula reclaimed his position were luxurious, spacious, and far more comfortable than the dingy shack we stayed in those first few months in ancient Rome. I had a bedroom, a sitting room, a dining room, a study, and even my own bathroom, complete with running water for both bathtub and toilet.
Romans were so clever.
Lounging on a sofa shaped like a half bowl, my feet hanging over the one end, I had been sitting in contemplative silence for nearly an hour, the past year of my life replaying steadily in my head. I’d sped through most of it, skipping the boring stuff and the painful memories, focusing on the events just after the Battle for Rome, as Caligula had dubbed it once he had retaken control of the Senate.
Bordeaux had saved the day during those last few moments. He had spent the entire battle with the auxilia and their fight with the overwhelming plebeian army. The battle hadn’t gone so poorly for the German auxiliaries as everyone had thought, but it had been an excruciatingly arduous affair. As history could confirm numerous times, an undisciplined and under armed force of civilians simply could not stand against fewer men should they be better trained, armed, and focused.
Almost eight thousand of the eleven thousand strong militia had been wiped out, but of the infantry, cavalry, and archers of the XV Primigenia ’s auxilia, only three and a half thousand were lost. Once Bordeaux showed up, and seven fully loaded ammo boxes later, many of the enemy started surrendering, or trying to flee back to the city. I knew it had something to do with the orb’s disappearance, but in the end, it hardly mattered. With that part of the battle neatly wrapped up, Bordeaux had led the auxilia in a flanking charge. Their arrival had quickly tipped the scales in our favor.
Like their civilian allies, many Praetorians began surrendering as well at that point, confused expressions on their faces, with no idea where they even were. Their surrender occurred not a second too early. They had almost broken us. The only thing that kept us going was the thought of failing Caligula, who had been so brave risking his own life and killing his own uncle in open combat.
The knock came again, more insistently this time.
