Legends of the Silurians: Ariana

Chapter One.

Adrenaline and blood rushed through my veins like lightning flashing through the sky. I tried swallowing, a feeble attempt to stabilize my excitement. The bubbling thrill of an oncoming battle surged throughout my people and made it hard to not feel the same thirst for revenge. Slowly breathing through my nose, I gained my composure, and lifted my hand to signal the sound of the trumpet.

At the blaring noise, my tribe took off and fought their opponents head on. Since I was their leader I stayed behind. Leaders were never to leave their post because they were the iron fist behind the tribe that had to keep them going. If the tribe lost their leader they became nothing. And so, I watched them in the dark murky forest surrounding the open meadow our enemies were traveling on.

Our goal was to place fear upon the Roman Empire by executing and entire border patrol. What we didn't know was that the patrol included four of the six Great Knights; knights whose specialty was assassinations. They were knights that were greatly feared by the Silurians and Ordovices. .

This battle was like any other throughout our long fight with the Roman officials, who one day shown up on our territory and claimed our land as theirs. Almost every tribe surrounding us gave in to the newcomers, but the Silruians and Ordovices would have nothing to do with the tribes' weak backbones. At that time ,over twenty years ago, the Silurians and Ordovices teamed up together and waged war against the “high and mighty” Roman soldiers. At the beginning there was no stopping us; we were unbeatable with our glorious leader Caratacus, or so I have been told. But, in 51 A.D. We had faltered; Caratacus had been captured. From then on our strength and might have been dwindling for the past twenty years of constant battle. However, there are still those, like my father and I, who refuse to succumb to the Romans. That was why we are here today.

The patrols that were sent out from Isca Silurum, also known as Caerleon, were usually composed of about twenty soldiers. These soldiers for the next week would continue to circle the edge of our border, daring us to pick a fight with them, and most times we did. There were at least three battles a week, mostly against patrols, but sometimes we assailed them right outside their fortress's walls, just to show that we weren't giving up any time soon. If the Roman's patrol was close to Caerleon they always had extra soldiers with them on those days, making it near to impossible for us to attack them. There were only a few spots on the border that were advantageous to us and this spot was one that was not. The only reason we'd chosen to fight at this place today was because we'd known that we'd recently started to back off, so, to show that we still had the fighting spirit in us, we chose this place, which meant that we were practically fighting on the Roman's terrain.

My father, the chief of the Silurians, Maddock, was not there today even though it was one of the biggest battles we've ever fought in the history of war with the
Romans, he had other places to be. Instead I, his daughter, Ariana, was here in his stead. This was the first time he'd ever let me lead my people into a big battle like this one, so, to me, if I didn't come back with good news I failed as a leader as well as his daughter.

The Roman soldiers were slowly decreasing in numbers and my hopes lifted. But, as I watched our men defeat the Romans four men on horses of an assortment of colors galloped their way in from the Western side of the meadow. They drew their swords and also began to slaughter my people. A man, who I knew all too well, on a big snow white stallion with a sandy colored mane slashed my best friend's stomach open. His name was Marcus and he was the leader of the six great Knights; someone you didn't want to cross paths with.

My eyes widened with shock and then they narrowed with blazing fury. I started to jump off my perch from the tree I was on when my comrade pulled on my arm.

“Ariana, I know how you feel, but you can't go down there. You're our leader right here, you can't abandon your post.”

There was no time for me to think, I bit back my pride and said to his face, “Watch me. If I don't return tell my father I died an honorable death during battle.”

Leaping off the tree, I sprang down the mountainside. Stones stung my bare feet as I slid down the slope, and I felt the red paint on my arms and face begin to dry as the sun beat on them. There were about fifteen of my people still fighting against twenty-five of the Romans when I finally reached the meadow. I rushed to where my friend lay on the dirt motionless. Her green eyes gazed up at the cloudy sky with a blank stare and I already knew that she was dead. Tears pricked the sides of my eyes, but I rapidly blinked them away. Looking up from my crouched position, my eyes found the form of Marcus as he stabbed his sword through one of my tribe members. I gave him a glare so fierce that ,if it could, would have killed him.

“Come on, men, fight with all you've got,” I yelled in a voice that engulfed the whole field. Some glanced over at me and I saw determination being renewed in their eyes. I returned my focus to my main target and ran towards him with a furious growl; anyone who got in my way dropped to the ground.

Men came at me from all directions, and I faced all of them with a fiendish glee that scared even myself. They stabbed at my swift moving body with slow, dull movements that couldn't compare to my own skills, and they knew it. Yet, they still tried to kill me. Deep down I felt a bit of pity for them, but on the battlefield there is no room for pity and I knew this.

Sweat poured down my cheeks and the numbing sting of new cuts and scrapes kept me company as I chopped down every Roman within eyesight. I was an animal. The human part of my conscious was void and my animal instincts were taking over my whole being. My only thought was of survival. . . . . .and rage.

Grabbing my hatchet from the bloodied chest of one of my victims, I looked around the field to find that my men had been killed while I had murdered their own soldiers. There were only five men left, and I growled in frustration. Blinded by searing anger as I charged towards Marcus, I had no time to react to the fallen body just a few feet in front of me. Stumbling over the body, I fell face first into the puddle of the man's blood. When I looked up my cold violet eyes were met by the sharp tip of a sword.

Slowly, I stood up and dropped my weapons. My eyes shifted to my sides as I spat out some of the blood, only to find that everyone of my tribe had died. No one was left. It was just me, my sword, and my will to survive. Reluctantly, I returned my attention to the man holding the sword and met the icy blue eyes of Marcus, the man who I hated most at the moment. As I recognized who he was my eyes hardened and I glared coldly at him even though I knew that I was at his mercy.

This seemed to surprise him and I saw something flicker in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it had come. I stood my ground and waited for the coming blow. I closed my eyes in anticipation, but nothing came at me. There was not the sound of a sword being swung or even of a sword being sheathed. Reopening my eyes in angry surprise, I saw that he was no longer in front of me, but, instead, walking back to his horse. His men stared at me with silent disbelief and confusion.

“Why did you not kill me?” the angry words spilled from my lips as I stared at my possible executioner, piercing him with my eyes.

He faced me as he mounted his horse and scrutinized my face before saying, “I know your people. To you, being shown mercy is worse than being killed if you lose a battle. Now, you must fend for yourself,” he told me plainly with an expressionless face.

My fists became balls of fury and I had the urge to punch him right in the face, but I knew that that wouldn't be of my best interest. I had to settle with glaring at him at a distance.

Standing my ground, I watched in silence as all of the remaining Roman knights mounted their horses and galloped out of the field without a last glance back to me. Once I could no longer see the silhouettes of the horses my tough facade faltered and then finally crashed all the way down. A tremor went through my body, which turned into mild shaking, which finally turned into all out body racking sobs. I tumbled to the ground and held my knees up to my chin as I rocked myself back and forth. There was no one left. Any remaining member of my tribe who had stayed up on the wooded mountainside was long gone by now, which left me all alone.

The sun had now dipped low below the treeline, but I didn't care. There was no one and no where for me to turn to, so why should I move myself? Even if I wanted to, I knew that I would not be able to. My foot had been badly sprained from the fall over the dead body. Another wave of self pity washed over me, and I curled into myself even more. It would have been better if Marcus had just given me my honorable death on the battlefield, I thought to myself as the comforting words of slumber called out to me.
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