Last Stand

This is truly it.
Looking around him, the siege has gotten to his legionnaires. Although he wanted to sit, he stayed up, discreetly leaning into his long time friend Brutus. It was silent and the mood was grim. Although his mind felt foggy, his eyes were alert enough to notice the men around his camp. Those far enough had dark lips because of the dried blood that came out from the flaking of their lips. Moans of pain could be heard around the encampment.
Water.
Food.
Mud.
A cool wind.
It was painful and right now he wanted to go on his knees to beg the gods for even a light mist.
Hearing the unified march and shouts of the tribesmen outside their fortifications broke him out of his lethargic thoughts. He closed his eyes and pushed off of Brutus. Brutus gave no reaction, only slightly stumbling, it seems like they were both leaning on each other. While stumbling he used the last of his strength to walk tentative steps towards the gate.
There is one more ring that the barbarians have to get through to get to this one final gate. He felt everyone’s gazes on him. His blood, everything moved slowly as if his body was like a bubbling creek that could barely even move a child. Taking a deep breath of the crisp, warm air it was like his mind cleared once again. He turned back to his men who seemed tense, almost frozen in place. Although he tried to stand tall, it only happened for a second before he fell back on the wooden gate. Pulling out his sword was torturous, but was done quickly. His men started to shakily get up. Brutus turned around to face the men who were stumbling to formation.
“Form!” Augustus was wobbling before he steadied himself on his pilum so he ended up having his lower body straight as his upper became diagonal. Julius was holding up his friend, both limping, breathing hard using their pilums as staffs, their gladius hanging in their other hand at their side. Although they looked weak, just like the soldiers who were purposely licking their lips to keep themselves up, all had a death grip on their weapons.
“Up!” Brutus said, his voice betraying his form as it echoed enough to probably reach Jupiter. His men were all formed up and Brutus nodded and turned back finally using a pilum as a support. He nodded and pushed his hand back onto the wall. His mind wasn’t functioning, he didn’t know whether to turn into a turtle formation, or to simply hold a line. But one thing rang through him.
Fight to the death. For Rome. He finally brought his hand down to his side and grabbed his gladius.
“For Rome!” His voice rang through his head, his ears. It took his breath away, like he was about to fall of exhaustion any moment now. His arm slowly raised, as his men raised their hands to the air as they echoed his call.
“For Rome!” Echoed through the air as the world turned black, a searing pain like thunder running through his head, his heart pounding like it was flying.