Together

Cathbar tried to hold his ground. But, spell after spell had failed and without magic no man could stand and face the gray tide alone. So, with his spirit crumbling like dust, the young warrior too fled into the woods with fellow clansmen. Deep amongst the trees, they thus avoided being cut down by victorious Roman cavalrymen, merciless in their pursuit of any surviving Tribesmen.

A chieftain quickly took command of the ragged band and proposed that they return home. He declared omens for the battle had been wrong and the gods had not intended the Tribe to fight that day. Where this not so, then the Celts would have been victorious and the Romans the ones to have been routed. His colleagues were too dispirited to argue.

Gyptis’s mother lay in her bed, moaning about this, that and life in general. The old woman’s illness often caused her pain and today it had been worse than usual. The daughter tried a few healing spells to soothe the pain, but to no avail. Without any explanation, there was a dearth of power. Of course, any battle would have consumed a great deal. Still that should have been days ago and the magic flowed back into the shrines. So, with no other recourse Gyptis fell back on herbal remedies. Not as potent as earth magic, but better than nothing.

The clash of metal on metal and the cries of the village folk pulled her from her daydreaming and housework. It also broke the silence that had ringed the village since its men folk had departed. Something was wrong, she sensed, something badly wrong. So she doused the fire with a pint of good milk, seized a boar spear, then peered outside.

The street was unusually bare and devoid of life and the girl saw that the gate at one end had been torn off its hinges. Then she glanced in the other direction and saw a line of Romans, inhuman in their armor and with their backs to her. Beyond them, but visible over their heads were village folk, women, youths, and graybeards, all fighting for their lives.

Gyptis tried to summon power to give her greater strength with which to fight the Romans, but to no avail. The only feeling that she received was a slight tingling in her body, not the normal rush followed by the sense of omnipotence. So she cast the spell again and added a prayer to the gods for good measure, but still nothing flowed. Then the fighting reached its climax and her neighbors disappeared under the gray line.

For a moment, Gyptis stood there shocked. Then, a bark brought her back to reality. From one of the other houses a Roman emerged, sword in the other. Blood from one of her neighbors dripped from its blade. The soldier stared at her for a moment, barked again then started to come towards her. As any vestiges of earth magic drained away, she replaced them with good old Tribal anger. Her charge carried her past the Roman’s defenses and her weapon buried itself in his belly.

Then moment that she felt him collapse Gyptis released the spear and stepped back. She ignored the mortally wounded man on the ground. With the village was all but lost there was no point remaining there just to fall into enemy hands. Quickly, she dragged her mother out of their house and the two women fled into the woods, the girl almost carrying the old woman. Behind them rose screams of anguish and pain from those unfortunate enough to be captured by the Romans.

The warriors stayed together as they slunk through the forest for home. However, one of them, more seriously wounded than the rest, dropped out of the column. Cathbar alone turned back for him. When he found him, the young warrior knelt beside him and apologized for being unable to help.