We finished in silence and when midmeal was over, we headed back to the sand. As we began our exercises, I tried to mimic the movements of the other gladiators, but my body felt sluggish and weak. Despite my determination, I struggled to keep up. My legs trembled beneath me, and sweat dripped down my face, blurring my vision. Fear and frustration churned within me, threatening to overwhelm my resolve.
Just then, a sharp pain shot through my arm as a gladiator landed a blow on me. I cried out, stumbling backwards as the others closed in.
"Looks like we got a weak one," Priscus sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "Can't even handle a simple strike."
I gritted my teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of them. But as the blows continued to rain down on me, I felt myself slipping further and further away from my goal.
"You're never going to make it as a gladiator," Maro taunted. "Might as well give up now."
I glared up at them, as I shielded my head from the blows raining down on me.
"That's enough. I mean it. That's enough." A shadow fell over me and the other gladiators fell back. I squinted up at the silhouette, and reached out to take the hand I was offered. My muscles tensing in pain, I gasped as Antonius jerked me to my feet. I didn’t know him much, he kept to himself, much like Marcus.
"Hey, thanks," I said, my voice trailing off as he turned and walked away. "Alright then, guess we're not going to be braiding each other's hair either."
I glanced across the arena, but Tarshi was occupied with two opponents, each trying to take some pretty savage swings at him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcus stepped forward and the gladiators ceased their fighting. He nodded to each of themin turn, his face stern and unyielding. Then he stepped into the center of the training ground.
"Form up!" he yelled loudly.
We did, forming a circle around him, most of us hot, sweaty and breathing hard under the harsh glare of the sun. He looked around at us all.
"Some of you think you're seasoned warriors. You've lived through a few fights, maybe even a few years of the arena. You think you're strong, fast and pretty damn special, and you may well be, but even the most experienced fighter has a weak spot. Antonius, forward."
Antonius strode into the centre where Marcus stood, his sword swinging loosely at his side, a grin on his face. He had barely reached the centre when Marcus attacked.
"I have been a gladiator trainer for six storms, a gladiator for eight before that, and a legionnaire for five years before that."
Marcus dodged Antonius's defences and cracked him across the temple with his sword, sending the huge man to his knees. A look of surprise on his face, Antonius quickly got back to his feet, raising his blade.
“It's not always your physical strength that will get you through a fight," continued Marcus, on the last word, slamming the pommel of his sword grip into Antonius's chest, sending him back to his knees again. He waved Rena forward, and she went for him, but it was as though he were a shadow. Each strike missed, and then Marcus was there, slamming his elbow into her face. I winced as she staggered back, blood dripping from her lip. She narrowed her eyes, bending her knees and launching herself forward, but in a moment, her sword was spinning away across the dirt and she was disarmed.
Septimus stepped forward next, his sword and a rough wooden shield at the ready. Marcus jabbed forward and Septimus blocked easily. I smiled at my friend.
"Speed is important too, faster combat can make a difference in wearing your opponent down," Marcus said, striking forward three times at Septimus. Septimus blocked the first two, but the third slipped behind the shield, catching him hard in the stomach and he doubled over suddenly, gasping for breath. Marcus swung down from above, cracking down on Septimus's back and he went down. I winced but ignored the whispers and jeers that came from some of the gladiators watching.
One of them grinned and ran forward, clearly hoping to take Marcus unaware. Marcus simply sidestepped, and struck the man across the head, sending him crashing to the floor. I grinned at that.
Marcus's eyes met mine and he gestured to me to come forward. I went, shifting my blade nervously in my hand. I was already exhausted, I just silently begged the gods to end it quickly. I approached him, but hung back, stalking him.
"If you want to be a great fighter," Marcus said, suddenly closing the distance between us in a couple of strides, his blade meeting mine in a loud crack. "You must practice fighting until you cannot think of anything else."
The blade met again and again, and my confidence rose a little. I saw a gap.
"Sword forms, sparring and listening will increase your speed and power. Relying on strength only will make you slow."
I lunged forward suddenly, aiming my sword at Marcus's unprotected chest, but had barely got halfway there, before I felt Marcus twist his blade around mine, flicking his wrist and sending my sword flying off to the side.
"Gladiators do not have time for slow." Marcus reached over and grabbed my leather armour, dragging me forward over his suddenly outstretched foot. I went down hard, my knees hitting the ground hard enough it would leave bruises. His sword whirled round, and stopped a hair's breadth from my throat.
"Too slow in the arena and you're dead," said Marcus, his eyes burning down at me.
He looked around the ring. "Your body must be fast, and so must your mind. Remember that when you are out in the arena, and you will be able to face whatever comes at you." He sheathed his sword and stepped back.
"Training is finished. You may take your leave." The men turned, and made for the barracks, muttering between themselves, some sending some snarky glances back towards me.
I ignored them, walking over to Tarshi.
