Survivor's Ranks
Sweat dripped in my palm, increasing the amount of force needed to keep my hold. One arm gripped in a horribly painful fashion to keep my opponent in place. He yanked and yanked, seeing the pain bolting my vision, in an attempt to free himself. My other arm was crushed underneath the other's back, his shoulder blade ramming into its soft flesh with every recoil of his socket pulling wrenches.
I hissed, I cried shamefully. The elders saw my weakness, my heart sank in a vain attempt of self pity.
My opponent heaved his broad chest, flipping me onto my back, but not before snapping my arm backwards with the top of his shoulder. I screamed in the fruitless fashion of a woman giving birth. The sounds emanating from my mouth did nothing for relief, I was only showing my pathetically trifling amount of self control for hiding my emotions.
He came upon me, no mercy just disgust in his eyes. I was weak, I was pathetic, I was stupid. They might have as well enrolled a girl in my place, at least she would have been expected to cry after her first fight.
The sun lowered and sent a cast of shadows over me. The wind howled and snapped at my forehead, the Greek sun directing its last rays into my eyes. I squinted my eyes but letted them in and marveled at the beautiful array of pinks and purples that painted the sky. Amazement struck me hard as the pain seared through my arm once more. I could still enjoy beauty after I was abandoned in the middle of the arena without any medical attention. The hard stone bleachers blocked enough cold air but it eventually flowed over them and onto my body, zapping all little precious heat and energy I once had.
I shivered into myself, my fighting tunic unreliable in the harsh freezing nights. Then I heard her, her soft foot steps coming froward. My mother.
"Oh my dear boy..." she stated. My back was turned to her and her voice cut sharp and clear through the opposing wind. No hand or comfort was placed upon me, my mother was already breaking enough school rules by being in my presence as it was. I laughed in the irony, love was so close yet so far in this #lifeless place. The academy was training us to be the best soldiers possible and that meant no weaknesses. The constant cooing and grooming from a mother was quickly snatched away before the child could get used to it at age three. The only thing was, I remembered.
I turned towards my mother carefully on the ground. She smiled down at me with a knowing look. Her body was clad in a light tunic, light armor protected her arms, she must have abandoned the heavy chest plate. Leather sandals were strapped to her feet, leather winding almost all the way up to her knees, and then the scarf. She wore the heavy cloak of a general around her neck, the deep red flaps brushing the ground lightly. Yes, my mother was the Great General Adonia, the Night Wolf Slayer.
She was a wonder of her time, but of course our society despised most of the limitations on regards to what women could or could not do that were so common in other neighboring cultures.
"As your general, I offer you a hand," my mother stated, arm outstretched with hand open. I smiled, my mother could be as clever as a fox when need be. Surely one couldn't think she was born into her position of power.
I accepted her offer with my free hand and she slowly lifted me to my feet. Her arm was as strong as a man's but still retained some of the feminine softness of a woman.
Once she gave me a look over, she directed me with orders to the infirmary. I wholly obeyed and went straight to the healers. Perhaps I could make her proud and my father.
I had recently learned of my father's identity, for what I lacked in strength, I more than made up for in my sly nature. I was now determined to claim my right as his son no matter the cost. For who would ever again torment, ever again fight, ever again challenge, or speak up too, The Prince of the Spartans?
Oh yes, it only made sense the King would eventually be enticed by the strongest, most powerful woman in Sparta and my mind was only beginning to plan my claim to the throne. I would make my mother proud and prove them all wrong.
