Subject:  CHAPTER 51 |
Author:
Kitkat
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Date Posted: 10:23:05 02/05/05 Sat
CHAPTER 51
Mikelle sat up straight in the saddle, gazing behind at the rows of armed men. The first line of defense, the snipers, had been sent out the night before, clearing the area in the rocks. Not all of them had reported back. The first rays of daylight were shooting over the horizon. Satisfied his men were ready and in place, he gave the signal to begin the march. In less than an hour, they were at the base of the camp.
A loud scream and the dull clanging of heavy swords awakened Nicadea. The fighting had begun. Dressing quickly, she grabbed her small knife and prepared to join the fight. She would have felt safer with one of the board swords, but the blade was too heavy for her to maneuver. She pushed aside the tent flap and stepped outside. For a time, she stood and watched—safe in the shadow of the tent. The mounted Romans looked unbeatable against the untrained, unhorsed Celts.
Dismayed, but determined to contribute, she pushed at the back of a Roman soldier fighting hand to hand with a middle-aged woman. The assault threw him off balance. Surprised and angered by the unexpected attack, he turned on her. She raised her knife, trembling in spite of her best efforts. He smiled, apparently amused at her puny threat. She swiped at him. He pulled back in an easy dodge. She struck again, getting closer. He responded with a sudden push, sending her careening backwards.
She sat down hard, but quickly recovered and rose to her feet, posed and ready to fight. She knew he was toying with her—cat to mouse, until she ceased to amuse him. They fought for several more minutes until she was panting for breath. Finally, he raised his sword for the kill. Just when she thought her life was over, a look of pain and surprise flashed across his face and he fell to his knees. Evian had killed her attacker. But before she had time to murmur her thanks, he, too, fell under the sword. Blinded by tears, she turned to run and found herself face to face with Mikelle.
“So, my little slave thinks herself a soldier.”
Surprise made her mute. Her mind rapidly searched for options. He wouldn’t kill her—she felt sure about that, but he would take her back as his slave. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a rider-less horse. If she could just make it to the horse before he stopped her, she might have a chance to escape. She lunged toward him, waving her knife menacingly. He stepped back in surprise.
“You want to fight me?”
She thrust again, sidestepping toward the horse—and again. She was preparing to hit at him a third time when the tall woman she had met the previous day joined in. He didn’t treat her with as much tolerance as he had Nicadea, and Nicadea saw her chance. As quickly as she could, she mounted the horse and rode from the camp. Fear spurred her onward, and she didn’t look back to see if anyone followed.
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