Gladiators of Rome:Short Stories

IX

IX

"Diomed!" Frieda called out, her voice laced with concern, "Diomed, it's me!" She continued cry out in anguish as he started to walk towards her. Frieda's breath caught in her throat as she looked around her and noticed she was surrounded. There was no escape and her fingers opening and closing around the hilt of her sword showed how anxious she was feeling. 

She could almost hear herself laughing in the back of her mind at the irony. She had kept Diomed out for so long for fear of being betrayed, like she had so often in her past, that when she finally began to accept him her fear became real. For that is exactly what was happening. But whilst the figure moving towards her looked like Diomed, it wasn't him. It wasn't the Diomed that she knew. 

She brought her sword back around from where it was hidden behind her and gripped it tightly, but she did not strike. A part of her was hoping that at the very last minute Diomed would stop, give her a wink and one of those annoying smirks he loved to send her way and let her know that it was all a ruse. That he had not changed. 

But he was getting closer and his eyes remained dark and shut off. 

"...Diomed?" Frieda's voice broke a little as she started to take a few steps back, increasing the gap between them; giving him one last chance to prove her wrong. But he kept coming. His brow was shining with sweat and the muscles in his arms were bulging as his lips started to draw back in a grimace and he raised his sword towards her. 

For the first time in a while Frieda felt something in her chest close to heartbreak as she raised her sword and it connected with his, the strike reverberating up her arm and - it felt like - into her chest. 

Their movements were harsh and strong. This wasn't the same as previous fights for Frieda. She wasn't prolonging the others torment by lightly dancing out the way, keeping them from ever touching her with their blade. She wasn't searching for the quickest kill. She was trying to keep herself alive whilst reaching for Diomed. She quickly began to realise that all her jesting of Diomed in the past had been wrong and he had been withholding the true measure of his strength from her. 

She wasn't sure how long they spent fighting but this wasn't a sparring match for fun. Freida was dripping with sweat and her muscles were calling out for a reprieve. The palms of her hand were calloused from how tight she was gripping her sword as Diomed brought his blade down towards the top of her head. Frieda managed to block it but Diomed kept pushing against her sword with his own until her thighs quivered, and she collapsed to her knees in front of him. Her sword was a mere few inches from cutting into her head. 

"Dio-" Frieda grunted, not able to finish the word as he exerted more pressure and she had to grit her teeth against keeping it from plowing into her skull. 

"Diomed!" Frieda cried out loud as droplets of sweat trailed a path down her face before hitting the ground, "It's me, Diomed," She looked between where their swords met and into his eyes as her arms began to shake from exertion, "It's me," Her voice broke, silently praying to the Gods for him to come to his senses. Her eyes searched his face but aside from the small arch in his brow nothing on his face changed. 

Frieda looked down briefly and took some deep breaths, steeling her body for what was about to come next. Maybe this was not the worst time to die, she thought as she looked out of the corner of her eye and saw her sister and her children. She was free. She knew her sister was alive. She had done what she set out to do. What else was there waiting for her in life? Maybe this was the right time to die. 

Frieda clenched her eyes shut as the sword inched forward slightly as Diomed found some hidden strength and used it. Her arms were screaming in agony for rest.