Unshed Tears by Kade Jones (top 10 books to read .TXT) 📕

who, by the looks of things, had been singled out for punishment. As a man with a wooden stick circled him, he was made to crouch low on shaking legs and hold his heavy shield directly above him. He was forced to use the bronze surface to deflect the sunlight towards the females, and they each took turns to bath in the light that he provided. As they did this, they pointed at him and laughed.

Octavia picked up a little of what they were saying. Something along the lines of; not to worry, for when we give birth to true warriors, you can easily be replaced.

Humiliation, it seems, was also encouraged here.

Just before entering an archway leading to her destination, Octavia noticed a small child of no more than eight years of age. His mother was crouched beside him, and at first it looked as though she was trying to comfort him as he bravely fought back his tears. The child had many fresh welts across his skinny back where he had been beaten by one of the older boys. It was only as Octavia passed the boy and his mother that she heard, through the translator within her ear, what was being said...

“I bore you so that you might die for Sparta.” She was saying, looking deeply into his eyes. “If I had had a daughter, she would not have let her tears flow as you do. Be brave, for when you die, it will be because I wished it.”

The boy swallowed hard and lifted his chin as if to appease his mother and show her that he could indeed be brave.

Before Octavia entered the arch, nearly passing from sight, the boy looked up and their eyes locked as he gazed directly at her. Behind those unshed tears was a courage that she had rarely seen amongst even the most experienced of war veterans. In the moment that passed between them, Octavia discovered that she had found a new respect for these Greeks who called themselves Spartans. She saw now that she had a kinship with these people and that their hardships mirrored her own. It was a kinship that spanned millennia.

She looked around at her crimson clad escort, and knew that each and every one of them had been put through this grinding mill. They had survived and emerged as hard men, not only in body, but also in mind and in spirit. She decided that they were not so silly after all.

Eventually, she was shown to a practice area, where several trainees were ushered from the sand and she was directed to stand to one side. The general and his men gathered at the steps while many youngsters crowded between the stone pillars. This was not how things were supposed to happen.

Octavia had been told that she must fight Gylippus in order to reveal the Disruptor recruit, but she was now confronted with a young lad, no more than fifteen years of age as he entered the small arena and faced her; spear and shield in hand.

Gylippus was not in the mood for any more speeches. “If you will not tell me where Pausanias is, then you will die here.” He stated in a matter of fact way. “Begin.”

Immediately, the boy launched into an attack. Octavia was still recovering from her revelations from a few moments ago, and was nearly taken off guard, but she managed to parry his spear and glanced him to one side with her shield. She then adopted a very low and very defensive stance, and all that the boy could see of her was the top of her head and her dark eyes, glittering from behind the disk of bronze.

She did not have a problem killing men on the battlefield. It was either kill or die; the choice was simple. But she had not the heart to take this or any other boy’s life unless it was her very last resort. She could certainly be a nightmare to some, but she was not a monster.

He came at her again with a smile on his face as he attempted to prove himself before his general. This time, she was ready for him. He launched himself into the air in an attempt to drive his spear downwards and over her shield. Immediately she quickly rolled forward and thrust her boot upwards and into the boy’s groin, and despite the large crowd that had now gathered to watch the show, silence invaded the air. As the teenage warrior fell onto his side holding his tender regions, all that could be heard was his moans as he softly whimpered into the dust… he was not the one, but he would live.

For just a moment, the general looked shocked, but soon adopted a look of disinterest. He sat with one leg upon a large vase as he watched the proceedings. With a wave of his arm, the teenager was dragged from the arena while two more took his place. They looked much more wary than their predecessor had, but neither did they hesitate once the melee was joined.

For half an hour this went on. Octavia used the butt of her spear, the flat of her sword or her hard shield to dispatch these would-be exacters of justice. Each time her young opponents were defeated, Gylippus would demand to know where the prince of Sparta was held; and each time she refused to tell him, he would send more youths into the fray until eventually, she was facing six young adults at a time in a fight for her survival. She named him a coward many times among other, not so polite terms, but he remained un-moved.

She did not survive each round unscathed by any means. Many were her bruises and cuts. When she cried out in pain, the general would laugh at her discomfort whilst eating from a bowl of fruit. But she had become stubborn now. She had come to loathe this man for his flippant attitude and for sending in these boys, caring not if they were killed. Her stubbornness also ensured each of their survival as she refused to draw blood, even if they were used to the pain.

“AH, ENOUGH!” shouted Gylippus after what seemed like forever. “It is beyond me why you will not tell us where he is!”

Octavia stood, battered and bloody upon the sand, breathing heavily in the sun and drawing on all of her strength so as not to collapse in a heap. Trainees were hobbling away, nursing their own bruises after their individual defeats. She would not give in to this man. Her number two’s life depended on it and she would rather die than betray her.

“Fine!” The general stood. “Arbraxos, finish her off. We’ll find him ourselves.” As a man used to having his soldiers follow his orders, he was surprised that his captain hadn’t heard him. “ARBRAXOS!” he boomed.

“I’m here my Lord.” Arbraxos jogged into the arena with his plumed helmet and crimson cloak. He squared off with Octavia, standing tall and staring at her with those penetrating eyes. Fighting youths was one thing, but fighting a trained soldier who had some obvious experience and athletic ability was quite another. This one, thought Octavia, would be to the death, and most likely her own.

She managed to straighten herself and tried to show him that she was not nearly as exhausted as she felt. But she knew that her previous bouts with the not unskilled boys had taken too much of a toll. This, she realised, would be the end of her mission. However, Arbraxos made no move towards her. She thought that he was sizing her up after making such a good impression and that he was not taking her lightly.

Gylippus stepped down onto the sand with suspicion in his eyes. “What are you waiting for? Finish her.”

“No.” Arbraxos stood firm, much to the shock of his superior. “I have seen much in my time with you general. We have fought many times side by side. But I never thought you would have me murder a woman on her last legs. Under Spartan law, has she not earned her right to live?”

Octavia was shocked, and quite touched, but she would have rather died at the hands of Arbraxos than at the general’s. Her hope darkened as Gylippus made his way into the arena. “And what do you propose we do with her then?” he stood at the captain’s side and looked at Octavia. “Are we supposed to just let her go? And what of the prince?”

“Here is your prince!” a woman’s voice called out from the city wall. All eyes rose as one to see Octavia’s ‘number two’, standing upon the parapet with an almost unconscious man kneeling at her feet. To Octavia, she looked magnificent! She stood with her blonde hair blowing in the wind, with the sun at her back, wearing the same black armour as her with a great sword held at her side. She looked for all the world like a dark, avenging angel.

As the Spartans watched, aghast, she pushed the prince's feeble head and let him fall to the earth and out of sight into one of the empty pens; a drop of nearly twelve feet. “Now let her go!”

Bells began to ring from close to the training area and men started to rush past the general and the scene within the arena as if they weren’t there. Something was on fire close by, and soldiers confirmed this with their warning shouts. Smoke could be seen as it began to billow over the rooftops and from doors within some of the barracks close-by. Confusion reigned as choking fumes spread throughout the courtyard and people hurried to get water from where they could.

Only for a second did Gylippus take his eyes from the blonde woman on the wall to survey the encroaching chaos which she had obviously started. When he looked again, she had gone.

His rage had reached its peak. Turning to Arbraxos, he grabbed his captain’s sword from its scabbard before he could move. “DisoBEDIANCE!” He smashed him under the jaw with his great forearm, sending him crashing to the floor, “will NOT be tolerated!” Turning with murder in his eyes, he lunged at Octavia with a war cry and surprising speed.

Too exhausted to fight, she did the only thing she could. She moved into

the thrust, preventing him from fully extending his arm! His sword entered Octavia’s body just beneath her right breast. It went only half way in and would have pierced the other side had she done nothing. She screamed – a very vulnerable and womanly sound which echoed her pain, but surely, she had only delayed the inevitable.

The general and Octavia were now in a struggle, and the mightily muscled man was far too strong for her