Micah

Chapter 10

Rain fell in heavy sheets, turning the grey of the pre-dawn world into a hazy blur before Micah's eyes. He was grateful for the rain. Not only was it refreshing to feel the cool of it against his skin, but the noise of rain spattering against the trees and tents covered the sound of their approach.

He walked a half pace behind Caesar, with a battalion of men at their rear. They all crouched low in the trees as the forest of tents that formed the rebel camp swam into view. At a motion from Caesar, they all stopped in their paces. No words were spoken, everyone knew the plan. Caesar waved a hand and the men fanned our around them and then with one sharp gesture forwards, they charged.

The soldiers roared and whooped and cheered as they cut through the first rows of tents with ease. Soon the grass at their feet was stained a dark red, awash with the blood of the rebels. The confusion and panic caused by their sudden attack had worked exactly as Micah had proposed it would, and they met no resistance from those that they slaughtered.

He could hear other battalions of their men who had approached from other directions letting out the same cacophony of sound. Yells of victory and swords cutting down lives in an instant. It was a bloodbath and Micah felt a savage sense of victory beginning to grow in his heart, this was his idea and it was working perfectly. With Caesar by his side and victory in his grasp, Micah felt unstoppable. Serena's prophecy was far from his mind as he rapidly cut down any enemies that came before him, taking no time to stop and see the faces of those that he killed. He could visit them all later in the Underworld. With this power, he could take the throne from beneath Hades and become ruler of the dead. He and Caesar would be the gods of life and death. They were incomparable.

The same fevered light that Micah knew shone in his own eyes, could be seen in that of his brother, and Micah watched in admiration as Caesar cut down rebel after rebel. This victory was all but handed to them. They only needed to find Spartacus in the melee and cut him down, and no one could contest them.

The rebels were beginning to fight back. Those that had been in the centre of the sea of tents had found time to arm themselves and band together; they were untrained and not soldiers, but they fought with a burning passion. The overwhelming wave of Roman soldiers began to slow as more battles were fought, and death began to come for them. Still, Micah was not concerned. He battled with the enemy, sword clashing against their own weapons. He had trained for two hundred years under the best swordsman to have ever lived, no mortal was a match for him. Especially not with the blade that he carried.

Onwards they fought. Through the rain and mist, Micah could see a giant of a man wielding two blades, a pile of dead Romans at his feet. Spartacus. Despite the danger that faced him, Micah abandoned those that he fought, trusting the men around him to keep him alive, and he grabbed Caesar by the shoulder.

"There!" He yelled to his brother, pointing with his sword. Caesar and Micah shared a serious look and then with a battle cry enough to chill the blood of Zeus himself, the pair pushed on, cutting down everyone in their wake.

They were only a few feet from where Spartacus stood when they hit a wall of rebels. They were different from the others that they had faced previously, it was immediately clear that they were the gladiators that had fought for their freedom by Spartacus's side and started the rebellion.

Micah and Caesar fought back to back, protecting each other. They had their own men with them, but against the beasts, they struggled. The fight began to fall into isolated groups and Caesar and Micah were left alone against their foes. For the first time since the battle had begun, Serena's words came back to him, ringing in his head as though she was stood beside him, repeating them directly into his ear.