The Lost Throne(59)

As expected, the first blow came from behind. He heard the crunching of stones as someone lunged forward, followed by the snap of a whip. He tried to block it with his shield, but before he could, the leather nicked his thigh. Soon a rivulet of blood was running down his leg. A rush of adrenaline dulled the pain as he focused on the task at hand. He charged toward the nine-year-old boy, who had used the whip, and clubbed him across the forearm. The wooden sword didn’t slice skin, but it shattered the boy’s wrist.

Despite the fracture, he didn’t scream or cry. He just stood there, whip at his feet, waiting for the exercise to end.

Meanwhile, all the instructors beamed with pride over the actions of both of the kids.

Leon inched backward toward the center of the ring, waiting for the next strike. This time it was someone his own age. He was armed with the same weapons as Leon: a small shield and a wooden sword. He crept forward quietly, hoping he wouldn’t be heard until after his first blow had landed. But it wasn’t a sound that gave him away, it was his shadow. Leon spotted it on the rocky ground and immediately turned toward his opponent.

Two boys, both aged twelve, each hoping to bludgeon his peer.

Their shields came together with a mighty clash, followed by the sweep of their swords. Leon blocked his opponent’s strike with the corner of his shield, and the reverberation forced the boy back on his heels. Using his body weight and momentum, Leon knocked the boy to the ground. Instinctively, the boy raised his shield to protect his face, so Leon aimed lower. He slammed the broad edge of his sword against the boy’s chest.

The maneuver was a kill strike, one that guaranteed Leon’s victory.

Disappointed, the defeated boy scrambled up from the ground and hustled to the edge of the ring, where one of his instructors was waiting for him. The teacher grabbed a whip from one of the youngsters and used it on the twelve-year-old’s back. Several lashes later, he pulled the boy aside and showed him what he had done wrong. It was a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.

Meanwhile, Leon had a final challenge to overcome, which would be the most difficult one of all. He would face off against an older boy. Someone unarmed but physically superior in every way. He would be quicker and stronger and outweigh Leon by several pounds.

This battle would determine Leon’s fate.

Leon glanced over his shoulder and spotted his opponent the moment he stepped into the ring. He was the biggest boy in the agoge, a seventeen-year-old man-child with large muscles bulging under his scarred skin. There would be no stealth with this assault. The teenager would come right at him, crunching over the rock-strewn ground, forcing Leon to counterattack.

And Leon would be ready.

He adjusted his stance, just as he had been taught to do, and waited for his opening. The large youth waited until he was five feet away, then lowered his shoulder and charged forward like an angry bull. Leon held firm for as long as possible, trying to remember the techniques his father had shown him long before his formal training had begun.

At the last possible second, Leon dived to the ground, using his shield to help him spring back to his feet behind the older boy. Then, while his opponent whirled back around, Leon cocked his sword and thrust it forward with every ounce of strength he had. The sound of wood meeting skull was unlike any sound he had ever heard before. There was a loud crack, followed by an echo that he didn’t think was possible from the human head. A heartbeat later, the teenager dropped to both of his knees with a solid thump yet somehow remained upright. He swayed back and forth as though he was going to fall, as if a single gust of wind would knock him over.

And Leon just stood there, sword in hand, watching his opponent teeter.

It was an act of weakness that could not be tolerated.

Leon’s enraged father pushed his way through the ring of kids. With a mighty wallop, he smacked his son across the face. The boy fell to the ground, spitting blood. He remained there for several seconds, which was a few seconds too long in the eyes of his father. Bubbling with rage, he grabbed Leon by the neck and yanked him to his feet. Then he shoved Leon toward the large teenager, who was still reeling from the earlier blow.

His father screamed, “There is no mercy on the battlefield. Finish him now!”

Leon nodded, picked up his sword, and did what Spartans were expected to do.

He finished the job without mercy.





33




After breakfast they moved to the living room, where they would be more comfortable. Each of them sat in the same spot as the night before. Payne and Jones were on the couch, and Allison was on a chair. Once again, she held a pillow in her lap.

Payne said, “In my experience, it’s much easier to solve a problem when you’re emotionally detached from the situation. It allows you to consider options that would otherwise be difficult. Part of our training as soldiers was to acquire that skill. We learned how to compartmentalize our emotions in the harshest of environments. We learned how to analyze data calmly despite the threat of death. Without that ability, we wouldn’t have been able to function.”