Chapter I
Freedom had come at a terrible price. Both Agron and Nasir walked away, absent their friends. Agron never felt so depressed since he was captured by the Romans-ripped from his homeland. His feet felt like stones, as he walked away from the man whom he looked up to. Spartacus had been turned to nothing but soil. So had Gannicus, and Crixus. Navia and Oenomaus. Especially Duro, his brother. Agron stopped in his tracks, looking back once more.
"We must go, before the Romans catch our feet." Nasir said, gripping Agron's arm reassuringly. Agron nodded and began quickening his pace, catching up with the fleeing group. There, they made it through the mountain pass, into foreign lands. They were no longer slaves. They were free men.
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Hours had passed, not a word was spoken. Not between Agron and Nasir, nor Laeta and Sybil spoke either. The group they led did not even break words yet. All simply hung their head sadly, thinking of the hero's that freed them. The children whimpered, as some remembered playing with Spartacus in the camps during the war. Finally, after an hour, Sybil broke the silence with her pleas of sadness.
"How will I carry on?" Sybil began, tears wilting in her eyes. "How will my heart carry on without him in my arms?" She finished, thinking of the life she could have had with Gannicus. Laeta simply put her arm around Sybil, petting her hair. She was not sure she would have had a life with Spartacus. His heart always belonged to his late wife. He was most likely embracing her now upon the shores of the afterlife. She sighed sadly anyway. Despite that, she too wished for Spartacus' reassuring embrace. Agron could not help but look back every once and awhile. He felt in his heart that Spartacus and the others would be running behind, catching up with him, but that was not so. His friends were gone, and he was the only one left of the Brotherhood.
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Later that night, the group made camp. Agron fell by the fire-exhausted. His wounds from his wrists still ached him. Not only could he no longer grasp sword, but the simple things were taken too. He couldn't hold a spoon properly when eating stew, nor could he hold meat the right way without dropping it. He sighed in defeat, deciding to leave the meet on his lap, and pick pieces off little by little. Nasir never helped him, as he knew Agron could get along on his own. He did however put padding and twigs around spoons so he could grasp it when eating stew, just like the invention he made for him to fight on the battlefield. Either than that, he left him to his own. For that, Agron was filled with appreciation.
"Strength will return, you'll see." Nasir commented, resting his head on Agron's shoulder. Agron smiled weakly, resting his head on Nasir's in response. Both had no idea what was about to happen to them.
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Weeks passed. Their numbers dwindling as they went. Some died of injuries and old age, while others returned to their homelands. One child cried at dawn, his Mother had somehow died in the night. Agron knelt down and put his arm on the boys shoulder.
"She will receive proper burial. Come, let us help her." He said, to which the boy nodded. After burying his Mother, they carried on the journey. Soon, the Mountain pass had come to its end. Only a few more days until they reached the Rhine River, which would lead Agron home. Nasir already decided to not return to Syria. He was so young when he was taken. It would be nothing but strange land to him.
"Where you call home, I call it is as well." Nasir said to Agron that night after exiting the mountain pass.
Agron had no words. For once in weeks, he never felt so happy. He pulled Nasir down onto their wolf pelt, pulling him close. There, they drifted off together. Something would happen before they reached the Rhine River. This would change their lives forever.
