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“You are lost?”
“No,” Agron denied, though he knew it seemed that way to the small group he lead towards Vesuvius. He had his bearings, at least physically. But his heart and his head were at war with one another and he could not deny it had been many years since he had last been so torn.
A dark nymph played on his senses, one which in only days had managed to capture his thoughts and send them fleeting. It was as if rains had poured onto the drought of his soul, quenching a thirst he did not know he had suffered.
“We rest here tonight,” He said, to save himself from further questioning. His resolve was wavering, an invisible bond drew him back to his brothers, but it was not only his loyalty to them that pulled at his heart, but the dark nymph who toyed with his thinking. Even sleep would not let him escape Nasir and he gave it up in hopes that being awake, he could at least banish him from thought by making plans for further advancement to the mountains.
But the longer they tarried to rest and gather their strength, dwindling like their supplies, the pull to his brothers - to Nasir – gripped him like an unbreakable chain. Spartacus’ words also haunted him, had it been Duro he would have searched for him to the ends of the Earth and beyond to have him back by his side. His heart clenched for his lost kin who had followed him faithfully, his loss an empty shadow unfilled.
He knew Duro would have seen what others had failed to or simply ignored. His interest in the Syrian had grown deeper in the short time of knowing him. Agron had found his manner surprising, a slave so long in bondage usually had the spirit beaten out of them, but Nasir’s seemed to have merely festered and grown from the moment of freedom. It was true he was like a pup, a curious, inquisitive, surprising beast with full spirit and seemingly fearless nature. That Nasir would follow the brothers into the mines, without prompt or call had appeared foolish to him until he had given further thought to the situation. Agron could no longer ignore the guilt that chewed at him within, feasting and festering.
“We’re going back,” He announced when they were rested.
Nobody gave voice of complaint.
~
“They passed through here.”
Agron nodded his agreement, the evidence lay before them, the battered empty shells amidst pools of blood.
Roman scum.
As they moved through the forest, they found further evidence of battle, fallen brothers who had died by the sword. Agron took comfort in knowing they had died free and fighting for that worthy cause. The Romans had strung up the bodies and as they came upon each, he felt guilt for being pleased none of them were Spartacus or the dark nymph that had overtaken his senses.
They moved quickly but quietly, gathering what they could from the Romans, as quickly as they dared before continuing. The numbers had dwindled considerably and he was hailed in a hushed tone the deeper they sank into the midst of the trees. Moving shadows had been spied ahead, but they did not know if it were friend or foe.
As he drew near, Agron sighed out a breath of relief, knowing Spartacus’ form even in shadow, that proud stance as he waited, ready to take them all on if he had to. He saw the relief and thanks in Spartacus’ face and Mira’s but he looked past them, searching for others from the party. Had they lost so many in the risk of going to the mines?
What of Crixus? Nasir?
Nearer still and there, beyond Spartacus and Mira, two others. A young woman he did not recognise – was it possible? Had the actually succeeded in their task? Was this the woman whom had pierced through Crixus’ hard shell? Beside her, a mere shadow of the young pup, skin blanched pale with sickness – he was hurt, but he breathed and Agron thanked all the gods he could name that his nymph still lived. He bent on one knee and reached out to touch him, to assure himself that he was real and the small smile returned to him from that brief touch gave him strength.