I see a glimpse of Lucius' white-blond hair, I'm so close.
I. Will. Not. Give. Up.
Sweat makes it hard to see, my muscles cramp and my breathing burns in my lungs. Stabbing pain shoots through my calf, the third blow.
An arrow grazes my leg and then bores into the earth. I fight messily, in a hurry, tired, soured. I dodge one blow, and then another one hits me in the stomach. A trickle of blood runs down my nose, I think I've lost a tooth, and I've broken at least one rib.
A path opens up to the circle. Lucius, I see him. I sprint towards him, into the circle. I shout his name. He turns his head and loses concentration. His face lights up as if the pain he felt earlier has disappeared.
But it is too late. I have killed Lucius with this.
I want to warn him, but a German sees his chance.
'No!' I shout. I hurl my shield at the barbarian, but it is already too late.
Lucius looks surprised, blood flows from the wound in his neck and then from his mouth. I sprint towards him and make short work of the barbarian. Lucius collapses, and I kneel beside him.
This cannot be happening. I was the one who would die on the battlefield. I was the one who would not make it. I was supposed to be the hero who died, not him!
Other soldiers shield us from the war raging around us, and it is as if we are alone. In another world.
His hair sticks to his face, his eyes only show me pain.
He lifts one hand up to my face, shaking, 'See you on the other side,' he says.
When his whole body goes limp, I cry out. I grab his sword, and with regained strength, I dive into battle.
I will avenge his death.