Once again, they felt the platform shift as it was lifted off the
ground. Standing close together, the four men were silent and motionless.
Amidst the thudding cranks of the gears below them, their thoughts were
quite clear.
Lance was apprehensive. He knew this round would be more complicated, and more dangerous, than the one before. They just had to make it through this one. If they could just get through this round…no, no it wouldn't matter. Even if they survived this attack, and even another one, the emperor wouldn't allow them to win no matter what. If they were going to get girls and get out of this alive, then they'd have to make a move before the final round. Yes, that's what needed to be done. The only question was, how in the world they would be able to reach the balcony, rescue the women, and still have enough time to escape before every soldier in the city came down on them?
Nick was thinking along those same lines. Although, he couldn't stop thinking about how strong their fourth member had proven to be. How was someone his own age so much greater than he was? But for whatever jealous reasons he had, there were many more reasons to be grateful. One of them was waiting for him up on the balcony. Jackie did mean a lot to him, and he wanted her safe and in his arms.
Mark could only try and shake off the fear he was experiencing. He'd never even lifted a real sword before the training session earlier today, and even then he wasn't any good at it. How was he supposed to fight off huge gladiators? How he wished he could be back at the dig site in modern Rome. The coliseum was nowhere near as imposing as it was right now.
And then there was Kenshin. Though he pushed his thoughts about the past few months back to the farthest reaches of his consciousness, they kept coming back to haunt him. Despite his face rising into a beam of sunlight, he didn't squint his eyes. Instead he could only see her face, blood running from her mouth. Her eyes were so full of pain, and yet never had glowed with so much peace. Could she have finally found peace, even in death by the one who she loved? For Kenshin, it was her who gave him peace. But he destroyed it when her blood dripped from his hands. His life was full of pain now; a pain so deep that he doubted time could ever heal it. But it was her last words that gave him the urge to go on living.
"…My love…" Kenshin whispered to himself.
Lance was the only one of the men who heard the whisper. The others were too preoccupied with the rising sight of the fifty thousand shouting Romans. But instead of being drawn into the terror of what was to come, Lance was seeing the pain in Kenshin's eyes. What had he gone through before they had met on that road outside the village?
"People of Rome!" came a bellowing shout from far in front of them.
Lance Thatcher looked up to see the publican, standing with his arms wide as he faced the crowd. The fat man snickered as he soaked in the cheers and shouts. Standing behind him, next to the sitting emperor, was General Marcus. Even from fifty yards away, Lance could see the pride on the soldier's face. Again the uncomfortable feeling swept over Lance. There was something very different with about that guy. Again the publican spoke.
"These spies," he said with a jeer, "have proven quite the competitors."
The crowd cheered again. Through the tiny transmitters in their ears, the three archeologists could hear the crude remarks by the Roman mob. Kenshin couldn't understand their words, but then he didn't need to. Their emotions said it all. He could feel their thirst for more violence.
Lance, Nick, and Mark each picked up one of the swords lying on the ground.
"But now," the publican continued. "Let us see if they can match the remnants of the southern kings!"
The roaring mob became loud with shouts. As they screamed, Kenshin focused his mind. He somehow found the ability to push back his emotions, seeing nothing but the doors around the arena.
Herodius smiled when he saw the four men in the arena. The one with the sword wouldn't be so lucky this time. No matter what power he might posses he couldn't dodge everything. Content with his plan, the emperor nodded to General Marcus. With the go ahead from his commander, the general gave the order.
Lance tensed when the gargantuan wooden doors yet again burst open. From out of the gaping maw came golden chariots, with archers onboard. Two horses pulled each ornate cart, both masked in decorative coverings. The iron wheels were fitted with razor-sharp spikes that protruded out to the side. To make matters worse, ten soldiers on horseback sprinted out past the chariots and began to circle the arena at full speed. Dust clouds trailed behind them, as the chariots too began to circle the four men in the arena's center.
Kenshin turned to Lance.
"You three stay here in the center," the samurai said. "And try to dodge them as best you can."
Before Lance could even say a word, Kenshin had gone. With as much speed as he could muster, the longhaired samurai charged one of the circling chariots. The whole world seemed to flow in slow motion when Kenshin traveled at this speed, or at least it seemed that way to him. He had enough time to study the chariots a moment ago, and quickly saw their weakness. As an archer was preparing to fire an arrow at the group of men in the center, Kenshin launched from the ground, slicing the unwary man cleanly in half. Before the torso hit the ground, Kenshin had landed, shifted position, and sprinted alongside the chariot.
Lance saw the intestines of the archer's body splatter as they hid the sand. The massive amount of blood immediately painted the ground in crimson. Luckily, something else caught Lance's attention. The chariot the archer was on had come to a dead stop, upending itself and flipping over. Now Lance understood Kenshin's strategy. The chariots couldn't move anywhere without horses. He could see the two thoroughbreds galloping together to the arena wall. But where was Kenshin?
From his balcony, the emperor felt sweat role down his forehead. It was just one chariot. He couldn't possibly escape them all. But then, what if he could? No, the odds are far too much against him. There would be no conceivable way.
The girls, on the other hand, were watching eagerly. They were both praying, hoping somehow God would give the men victory. Lisa found the gruesome sight of the archer's demise revolting, but encouraging nonetheless. Jackie cringed and shut her eyes. The sight was still engraved in her mind, but then so was the massacre in the round before. However gross the fight would be, it was necessary if the new man was to win at all. She glanced over at the general. He wasn't smiling anymore, but he didn't look worried either. The man gave her the creeps.
One of the soldiers on the horses saw Kenshin slice through the chariot's restraints. With a quick turnabout, he charged toward him. But Kenshin heard the hoofs of the horse beating on the ground behind him. Just as the charging soldier had his sword pulled back to make a strike, Kenshin let himself fall backwards, bringing his sword swiftly upward and slicing off the soldier's outstretched arm.
Without bothering to finish off the screaming man, Kenshin spun around and leapt to his right. Two arrows hit the ground where he had once been. He cursed, for he had gotten careless. Those arrows were very close. There were still three more chariots and nine horsemen to deal with, and that meant no slacking off. He'd have to take care of the archers first.
Lance tensed. Two horsemen were running straight for his group. Both men were wearing chest armor, but none on the sleeves or lower legs. But how could he get to them?
"Nick!" Lance shouted. "Stand about fifteen feet away from me."
"What?" Nick asked.
"Just do it!" Lance ordered. "Mark, get ready. When I duck to dodge the first rider's attack, you'll have an opening to go for his arm. I'll see to second rider."
"But Lance –"
"I don't care," Lance interrupted. "If you don't want to die, you have to do this!"
Mark swallowed hard. This was precisely what he didn't want to face. He was shaking so much he almost dropped his sword. His palms were sweaty, and his eyes were stinging from the sweat that had rolled down his forehead.
Lance, however, had used whatever fear he was feeling to energize his legs. The rider was almost upon him. Just a little longer…a little longer…now! He ducked, somersaulting across the ground just under the swipe of the soldier's blade. Keeping his momentum, Lance planted his feet and leapt forward. This caught the second rider off guard, allowing Lance the chance to strike. He swung his short blade just far enough to slice off the rider's leg at the kneecap. Blood splattered on his face, as the rider screamed in agony and fell off his horse. Lance unconsciously sprung back to his feet and ran the tip of the sword through the fallen soldier's neck.
Mark saw the first rider's arm swing over Lance. The momentum of the swipe was pulling the arm to the soldier's other side. There was the opening…but he couldn't move. Mark fought with himself. In split second's time, he battled against fear and doubt. He wanted to survive…he wanted to live. He prayed, closed his eyes, and swung his sword to where he thought the rider would be.
Not only did he not hit the soldier, but he also had swung too hard and lost his balance. He fell spinning to the ground. As he pushed himself up, he saw the rider turn to make another pass. Mark felt his adrenaline rush. He had attacked the rider and, though he had missed, had survived. The fear was still there, but it felt different. He had confidence to try again.
Mark stood to his feet and squared off to the charging rider. The sword gripped tightly in his hand, he looked up and down the soldier's body, trying to find an accessible weak point. The only places were the arms and lower legs…and the head. Mark had no control over his body as he pulled his arm high into the air and as far back as he could. With strength out of desperation, he swung his hand foreword, releasing the sword.
Lance watched in awe as Mark's flying blade struck the rider's face, piercing through the skull and out the back of the head. The sight was gruesome, but at least Mark had overcome his fear, and there were now two less riders to worry about.
Nick couldn't believe that Mark was capable of doing what he did. The man was always afraid of his own shadow. Now he can boast about taking out a Roman soldier, who was on horseback no less! Nick stopped his thoughts when he heard Jackie's scream.
"Nick!" Jackie screamed at the top of her lungs. "Behind you!"
Sure enough, Nick heard hoof prints behind him. What should he do? He turned slightly to see a rider charging right for him. Without thinking, Nick gripped his sword and sprinted to his left. The rider followed him sure enough. He'd never be able to outrun a horse, but at least he could outsmart its rider.
Nick saw two fallen chariots, both upended and laying parallel to each at about ten feet apart. He'd have to do some fancy footwork, but maybe he could pull it off. Nick ran to his left, leading the rider away from the chariots. When the hoof prints were close enough behind him, Nick made a sharp u-turn. Again the rider turned and followed. This time the rider rode even faster. He nearly managed a swing of his sword before Nick turned left again. With growing frustration, the rider charged as fast as he could in the direction of the running man.
But by this time it was too late. The horse stopped dead in his tracks right before the first chariot. The rider, however, was thrown clear, flying over the horse's head and through the air. Nick watched reluctantly as the man can down on the wheel of the second chariot. The spikes punctured the chest armor easily, sending a geyser of blood out from the man's mouth.
As Kenshin finished off his fourth rider with a single swipe, he witnessed the tall man's attack. He couldn't help but crack a smile. It was then that he saw the younger man's victory. These guys may not know how to use a sword, but they were smart when it came to tactics.
Speaking of which, he needed to figure out how to take out the one remaining chariot as well as the single horseman. Kenshin was standing in the center of the arena, facing the large wooden door. In front of it was the chariot, the gruff man at its helm frowning in anger. Behind the driver, two archers prepared to fire. Kenshin's eyes didn't leave their bows.
The second the bows were released, Kenshin brought up his sword. He swiped the first arrow in two, and…caught the second with his hand! Kenshin stood tall, his sword down by his side and a long arrow gripped in his fist. He had caught arrows before – even darts – but it was always a rush. But there was no time for recognizing his speed.
Kenshin shifted his stance, and prepared for an attack. With both hands on the hilt of his katana, he once again pointed his blade high into the air behind him. But this stance was different than the technique he had used in the previous round. This one was much stronger. His feet dug deep into the dry sand as he summoned his strength. Dust clouds erupted and his arms swung down and forwards with blinding speed. The shockwave of the blow shook the coliseum, as a blast of force rocked across the arena floor. Chunks of dirt and sand rocketed toward the chariot, until the line of eruptions reached the its horses. The entire chariot, horses and all, lifted off the ground in an explosion of wood and dirt. A giant dust cloud shot into the sky, while debris began to rain down on the spectators in the nearby stands.
It was after the explosion that Kenshin focused his attention on the last remaining opponent. A lone rider was trying to control his horse, spinning in circles. When the man finally did get the animal under control, Kenshin had disappeared. The man nervously searched in every direction, but saw no sign of the longhaired warrior. After a minute of frustrating searching, the rider gave in to his fears. He rode in a mad dash for the large wooden door.
"Open!" the rider cried. "Open the door!"
General Marcus glared at the petrified man. Retreat was a disgrace to all, and must be punished. The general motioned to an archer standing on the arena's perimeter wall.
Lance watched as the man took three arrows before falling off his horse. The crowd, who had been silent the entire round, now was roaring with cheers. But he felt no pleasure in being praised, for the blood of the man he killed was still wet on his hands. It was then that Lance noticed Kenshin, walking towards them from the body of the last man to fall.
Kenshin knew the emotions the rider was experiencing. He felt the man's fear. He felt guilty for using that fear against him. Apparently, there was still the hardened warrior in him that needed to be broken. Yet, such a cowardly retreat was certainly reason enough for the actions of the Romans. In his own culture, Kenshin knew retreat to be worse than death, even the death of your own hands. As he walked away from the punctured body, Kenshin muttered a word.
"Baka."
Lance was apprehensive. He knew this round would be more complicated, and more dangerous, than the one before. They just had to make it through this one. If they could just get through this round…no, no it wouldn't matter. Even if they survived this attack, and even another one, the emperor wouldn't allow them to win no matter what. If they were going to get girls and get out of this alive, then they'd have to make a move before the final round. Yes, that's what needed to be done. The only question was, how in the world they would be able to reach the balcony, rescue the women, and still have enough time to escape before every soldier in the city came down on them?
Nick was thinking along those same lines. Although, he couldn't stop thinking about how strong their fourth member had proven to be. How was someone his own age so much greater than he was? But for whatever jealous reasons he had, there were many more reasons to be grateful. One of them was waiting for him up on the balcony. Jackie did mean a lot to him, and he wanted her safe and in his arms.
Mark could only try and shake off the fear he was experiencing. He'd never even lifted a real sword before the training session earlier today, and even then he wasn't any good at it. How was he supposed to fight off huge gladiators? How he wished he could be back at the dig site in modern Rome. The coliseum was nowhere near as imposing as it was right now.
And then there was Kenshin. Though he pushed his thoughts about the past few months back to the farthest reaches of his consciousness, they kept coming back to haunt him. Despite his face rising into a beam of sunlight, he didn't squint his eyes. Instead he could only see her face, blood running from her mouth. Her eyes were so full of pain, and yet never had glowed with so much peace. Could she have finally found peace, even in death by the one who she loved? For Kenshin, it was her who gave him peace. But he destroyed it when her blood dripped from his hands. His life was full of pain now; a pain so deep that he doubted time could ever heal it. But it was her last words that gave him the urge to go on living.
"…My love…" Kenshin whispered to himself.
Lance was the only one of the men who heard the whisper. The others were too preoccupied with the rising sight of the fifty thousand shouting Romans. But instead of being drawn into the terror of what was to come, Lance was seeing the pain in Kenshin's eyes. What had he gone through before they had met on that road outside the village?
"People of Rome!" came a bellowing shout from far in front of them.
Lance Thatcher looked up to see the publican, standing with his arms wide as he faced the crowd. The fat man snickered as he soaked in the cheers and shouts. Standing behind him, next to the sitting emperor, was General Marcus. Even from fifty yards away, Lance could see the pride on the soldier's face. Again the uncomfortable feeling swept over Lance. There was something very different with about that guy. Again the publican spoke.
"These spies," he said with a jeer, "have proven quite the competitors."
The crowd cheered again. Through the tiny transmitters in their ears, the three archeologists could hear the crude remarks by the Roman mob. Kenshin couldn't understand their words, but then he didn't need to. Their emotions said it all. He could feel their thirst for more violence.
Lance, Nick, and Mark each picked up one of the swords lying on the ground.
"But now," the publican continued. "Let us see if they can match the remnants of the southern kings!"
The roaring mob became loud with shouts. As they screamed, Kenshin focused his mind. He somehow found the ability to push back his emotions, seeing nothing but the doors around the arena.
Herodius smiled when he saw the four men in the arena. The one with the sword wouldn't be so lucky this time. No matter what power he might posses he couldn't dodge everything. Content with his plan, the emperor nodded to General Marcus. With the go ahead from his commander, the general gave the order.
Lance tensed when the gargantuan wooden doors yet again burst open. From out of the gaping maw came golden chariots, with archers onboard. Two horses pulled each ornate cart, both masked in decorative coverings. The iron wheels were fitted with razor-sharp spikes that protruded out to the side. To make matters worse, ten soldiers on horseback sprinted out past the chariots and began to circle the arena at full speed. Dust clouds trailed behind them, as the chariots too began to circle the four men in the arena's center.
Kenshin turned to Lance.
"You three stay here in the center," the samurai said. "And try to dodge them as best you can."
Before Lance could even say a word, Kenshin had gone. With as much speed as he could muster, the longhaired samurai charged one of the circling chariots. The whole world seemed to flow in slow motion when Kenshin traveled at this speed, or at least it seemed that way to him. He had enough time to study the chariots a moment ago, and quickly saw their weakness. As an archer was preparing to fire an arrow at the group of men in the center, Kenshin launched from the ground, slicing the unwary man cleanly in half. Before the torso hit the ground, Kenshin had landed, shifted position, and sprinted alongside the chariot.
Lance saw the intestines of the archer's body splatter as they hid the sand. The massive amount of blood immediately painted the ground in crimson. Luckily, something else caught Lance's attention. The chariot the archer was on had come to a dead stop, upending itself and flipping over. Now Lance understood Kenshin's strategy. The chariots couldn't move anywhere without horses. He could see the two thoroughbreds galloping together to the arena wall. But where was Kenshin?
From his balcony, the emperor felt sweat role down his forehead. It was just one chariot. He couldn't possibly escape them all. But then, what if he could? No, the odds are far too much against him. There would be no conceivable way.
The girls, on the other hand, were watching eagerly. They were both praying, hoping somehow God would give the men victory. Lisa found the gruesome sight of the archer's demise revolting, but encouraging nonetheless. Jackie cringed and shut her eyes. The sight was still engraved in her mind, but then so was the massacre in the round before. However gross the fight would be, it was necessary if the new man was to win at all. She glanced over at the general. He wasn't smiling anymore, but he didn't look worried either. The man gave her the creeps.
One of the soldiers on the horses saw Kenshin slice through the chariot's restraints. With a quick turnabout, he charged toward him. But Kenshin heard the hoofs of the horse beating on the ground behind him. Just as the charging soldier had his sword pulled back to make a strike, Kenshin let himself fall backwards, bringing his sword swiftly upward and slicing off the soldier's outstretched arm.
Without bothering to finish off the screaming man, Kenshin spun around and leapt to his right. Two arrows hit the ground where he had once been. He cursed, for he had gotten careless. Those arrows were very close. There were still three more chariots and nine horsemen to deal with, and that meant no slacking off. He'd have to take care of the archers first.
Lance tensed. Two horsemen were running straight for his group. Both men were wearing chest armor, but none on the sleeves or lower legs. But how could he get to them?
"Nick!" Lance shouted. "Stand about fifteen feet away from me."
"What?" Nick asked.
"Just do it!" Lance ordered. "Mark, get ready. When I duck to dodge the first rider's attack, you'll have an opening to go for his arm. I'll see to second rider."
"But Lance –"
"I don't care," Lance interrupted. "If you don't want to die, you have to do this!"
Mark swallowed hard. This was precisely what he didn't want to face. He was shaking so much he almost dropped his sword. His palms were sweaty, and his eyes were stinging from the sweat that had rolled down his forehead.
Lance, however, had used whatever fear he was feeling to energize his legs. The rider was almost upon him. Just a little longer…a little longer…now! He ducked, somersaulting across the ground just under the swipe of the soldier's blade. Keeping his momentum, Lance planted his feet and leapt forward. This caught the second rider off guard, allowing Lance the chance to strike. He swung his short blade just far enough to slice off the rider's leg at the kneecap. Blood splattered on his face, as the rider screamed in agony and fell off his horse. Lance unconsciously sprung back to his feet and ran the tip of the sword through the fallen soldier's neck.
Mark saw the first rider's arm swing over Lance. The momentum of the swipe was pulling the arm to the soldier's other side. There was the opening…but he couldn't move. Mark fought with himself. In split second's time, he battled against fear and doubt. He wanted to survive…he wanted to live. He prayed, closed his eyes, and swung his sword to where he thought the rider would be.
Not only did he not hit the soldier, but he also had swung too hard and lost his balance. He fell spinning to the ground. As he pushed himself up, he saw the rider turn to make another pass. Mark felt his adrenaline rush. He had attacked the rider and, though he had missed, had survived. The fear was still there, but it felt different. He had confidence to try again.
Mark stood to his feet and squared off to the charging rider. The sword gripped tightly in his hand, he looked up and down the soldier's body, trying to find an accessible weak point. The only places were the arms and lower legs…and the head. Mark had no control over his body as he pulled his arm high into the air and as far back as he could. With strength out of desperation, he swung his hand foreword, releasing the sword.
Lance watched in awe as Mark's flying blade struck the rider's face, piercing through the skull and out the back of the head. The sight was gruesome, but at least Mark had overcome his fear, and there were now two less riders to worry about.
Nick couldn't believe that Mark was capable of doing what he did. The man was always afraid of his own shadow. Now he can boast about taking out a Roman soldier, who was on horseback no less! Nick stopped his thoughts when he heard Jackie's scream.
"Nick!" Jackie screamed at the top of her lungs. "Behind you!"
Sure enough, Nick heard hoof prints behind him. What should he do? He turned slightly to see a rider charging right for him. Without thinking, Nick gripped his sword and sprinted to his left. The rider followed him sure enough. He'd never be able to outrun a horse, but at least he could outsmart its rider.
Nick saw two fallen chariots, both upended and laying parallel to each at about ten feet apart. He'd have to do some fancy footwork, but maybe he could pull it off. Nick ran to his left, leading the rider away from the chariots. When the hoof prints were close enough behind him, Nick made a sharp u-turn. Again the rider turned and followed. This time the rider rode even faster. He nearly managed a swing of his sword before Nick turned left again. With growing frustration, the rider charged as fast as he could in the direction of the running man.
But by this time it was too late. The horse stopped dead in his tracks right before the first chariot. The rider, however, was thrown clear, flying over the horse's head and through the air. Nick watched reluctantly as the man can down on the wheel of the second chariot. The spikes punctured the chest armor easily, sending a geyser of blood out from the man's mouth.
As Kenshin finished off his fourth rider with a single swipe, he witnessed the tall man's attack. He couldn't help but crack a smile. It was then that he saw the younger man's victory. These guys may not know how to use a sword, but they were smart when it came to tactics.
Speaking of which, he needed to figure out how to take out the one remaining chariot as well as the single horseman. Kenshin was standing in the center of the arena, facing the large wooden door. In front of it was the chariot, the gruff man at its helm frowning in anger. Behind the driver, two archers prepared to fire. Kenshin's eyes didn't leave their bows.
The second the bows were released, Kenshin brought up his sword. He swiped the first arrow in two, and…caught the second with his hand! Kenshin stood tall, his sword down by his side and a long arrow gripped in his fist. He had caught arrows before – even darts – but it was always a rush. But there was no time for recognizing his speed.
Kenshin shifted his stance, and prepared for an attack. With both hands on the hilt of his katana, he once again pointed his blade high into the air behind him. But this stance was different than the technique he had used in the previous round. This one was much stronger. His feet dug deep into the dry sand as he summoned his strength. Dust clouds erupted and his arms swung down and forwards with blinding speed. The shockwave of the blow shook the coliseum, as a blast of force rocked across the arena floor. Chunks of dirt and sand rocketed toward the chariot, until the line of eruptions reached the its horses. The entire chariot, horses and all, lifted off the ground in an explosion of wood and dirt. A giant dust cloud shot into the sky, while debris began to rain down on the spectators in the nearby stands.
It was after the explosion that Kenshin focused his attention on the last remaining opponent. A lone rider was trying to control his horse, spinning in circles. When the man finally did get the animal under control, Kenshin had disappeared. The man nervously searched in every direction, but saw no sign of the longhaired warrior. After a minute of frustrating searching, the rider gave in to his fears. He rode in a mad dash for the large wooden door.
"Open!" the rider cried. "Open the door!"
General Marcus glared at the petrified man. Retreat was a disgrace to all, and must be punished. The general motioned to an archer standing on the arena's perimeter wall.
Lance watched as the man took three arrows before falling off his horse. The crowd, who had been silent the entire round, now was roaring with cheers. But he felt no pleasure in being praised, for the blood of the man he killed was still wet on his hands. It was then that Lance noticed Kenshin, walking towards them from the body of the last man to fall.
Kenshin knew the emotions the rider was experiencing. He felt the man's fear. He felt guilty for using that fear against him. Apparently, there was still the hardened warrior in him that needed to be broken. Yet, such a cowardly retreat was certainly reason enough for the actions of the Romans. In his own culture, Kenshin knew retreat to be worse than death, even the death of your own hands. As he walked away from the punctured body, Kenshin muttered a word.
"Baka."