Slash in the Shadows

The mist hung heavy over the cliff's summit, a damp curtain muffling the helots' fading cries as they bolted into the dark. Lysander crouched low, clutching her torn red cloak, the bindings underneath frayed but still hiding her secret—a girl in a boy's world, a disgrace to Sparta's honor if anyone knew. Her leg throbbed, blood oozing from the ravine's cut, her back stinging from Gaius's whip, but her grip on Linus's dagger stayed tight, its blade wet with his blood. Damon crouched beside her, his sword dripping, his green eyes sharp with questions after glimpsing her bindings in the fight. He's too close, she thought, heart pounding like a war drum.

"Reinforcements!" Felix rasped, slumped against a rock, blood soaking Damon's cloak pressed to his side. The herd—ten left, bruised and wild—huddled around him, swords up. Gaius limped nearby, his thigh wrapped but bleeding, his whip coiled like a snake ready to strike. His grin cut through the fog, aimed at her—he'd seen too much, his soft taunt a threat she couldn't ignore.

Hooves thundered, Spartan soldiers crashing through the mist—twenty shields, helms shining, their captain yelling, "Secure the herd!" A soldier grabbed Lysander's arm, yanking her up. "You—with me!" His voice was rough, his grip hard as stone.

"No!" Damon lunged, sword raised, but another soldier slammed him back, pinning him to the dirt. "He saved Felix—let him go!"

The captain—big, scarred, red cloak flapping—glanced at Felix, then her. "Saved him, huh? Name!"

"Lysander," she barked, voice low and gruff—boyish, she hoped, shoving down the panic. "Son of Leontius."

He nodded, sharp. "Stay near. We're moving." The soldier let go, and she stepped back, but Damon's eyes followed—too close, too smart. She had to keep him off, or he'd dig out the truth.

The herd stumbled down the cliff path, soldiers on both sides, Felix groaning on a shield. Gaius marched ahead, Thales whispering at his ear, their heads turning her way. They're planning, she thought, gripping her dagger tighter. Gaius had that binding scrap from the ravine—he'd show it, scream girl, and she'd be dead. She needed him quiet, fast.

The path squeezed tight, rocks slipping under her bare feet, the gorge yawning below. Damon stuck close, his shoulder brushing hers, his voice low. "You're bleeding bad—leg, back. That thing under your cloak—what's it for?"

"Shut it," she hissed, glaring. "It's a bandage—old wound. Focus, or we're both helot meat." She kept her tone rough, but his frown stayed, digging deeper.

A yell exploded—Thales, pointing down. "Helots!" Shadows surged from the gorge, spears flashing, their roars bouncing off the rocks. Soldiers slammed shields up, but the herd broke apart, chaos swallowing them. Lysander dove behind a boulder, Damon with her, as a spear zipped past, nicking his arm. He growled, slashing a helot's chest wide open, blood splashing hot.

She moved fast, dagger slicing a helot's leg—down he went, screaming. She yanked it free, guts twisting, but kept swinging. No more dead because of me, she swore, Pyrrhus's fall a kick in her ribs. Damon's sword flashed, dropping another, but his eyes flicked to her—too long, too hard.

Gaius cracked his whip up front, snapping a helot's neck, laughing like a mad dog. "Weak!" he shouted, then spun, locking on her. "Your turn, runt!" He charged, whip lashing, Thales grinning behind him.

Now or never. She bolted, dodging a helot spear, and went for Thales—he'd heard Gaius, seen too much. Her dagger aimed for his throat, fast and quiet. He jerked, the blade slashing his arm instead, blood spraying. He yelled, swinging his sword, but she ducked, ramming the dagger into his gut. It sank deep, wet and final—he choked, eyes popping, and crumpled. She ripped it out, wiping it quick. One down.

Gaius roared, whip cracking—her shoulder burned, blood dripping, but she rolled away, popping up fast. A soldier smashed into Gaius, tackling a helot, and he stumbled, cursing. Lysander darted back to Damon, the herd pushing helots off, blades flashing. The captain's shield plowed through, scattering them, and the helots ran, vanishing into the dark.

"Line up!" the captain yelled, voice like a hammer. The herd staggered together, panting, Thales dead in the dirt. Gaius glared at her, whip tight, blood seeping from his leg—but his grin said I'm coming. Damon grabbed her arm, pulling her back, his voice sharp. "You gutted Thales—why?"

"He came at me," she lied, staring him down. "Him and Gaius—they want me dead. You saw it." Her heart raced, but she kept it cool.

He squinted, not buying it. "You hit him first—cold. And that—" He pointed at her cloak, the bindings' bulge faint under the tears. "It's no bandage. I'm not stupid, Lys."

"Drop it," she snapped, yanking free. "It's my business—scar cover. Keep pushing, and Gaius wins." Her voice stayed low, hard, but his eyes burned—doubt, anger, too close.

The captain shouted, "Move!" and they marched, the gorge opening to a flat clearing, soldiers circling tight. Felix wheezed on his shield, blood pooling, and Gaius limped ahead, muttering to a soldier—his eyes stuck on her like a hawk.

Night dropped fast, cold biting her bare arms as they camped, torches popping in the dark. Lysander plopped on a rock, leg bleeding, arm stinging, her cloak a mess. Damon sat next, sword on his knees, quiet but heavy. The herd buzzed—Kratos wrapping his arm, survivors counting heads—but Gaius hovered, whip tapping, watching.

"We're talking," Damon said, low and hard. "No dodging. Thales, that cloak—I know you're hiding something."

"Not here," she shot back, glancing at Gaius. "He's waiting—wants us fighting. Trust me, Damon—just this once."

"Trust?" He leaned in, eyes fierce. "I've bled for you, and you're lying. What are you scared of?"

Gaius's shadow moved, whip uncoiling, and he stomped over, grinning. "Trouble, lover boy?" he taunted, cracking the whip near Damon's legs—dirt flew. "Or's your runt running again?"

Damon jumped up, sword out, but Lysander grabbed him, yanking him back. "Not now," she growled, voice low—boyish, she hoped. Gaius laughed, stepping closer, whip brushing her foot.

"I'll get you," he said, quiet, mean. "One slip, runt—over." He turned, limping off, but his words stuck, a rope around her neck.

Damon shook her off, glaring. "He's after you—why? What's he got?"

"Nothing," she lied, guts twisting. "He's a bastard—hates me. Stay out of it." She turned away, hands shaking—He's too close. Thales was gone, but Gaius had more—Linus's death, that scrap. She had to shut him up, or she was done.

A scream ripped the night—loud, wild—from the camp's edge. The herd bolted up, soldiers yelling, and Lysander spun, dagger ready. Kratos staggered out, blood gushing from his chest, a helot spear stuck deep. "They're here!" he croaked, dropping dead.

Helots charged, shadows in the torchlight, howling like wolves. The captain bellowed, shields slamming, but Lysander locked on Gaius—he grinned, whip up, coming straight for her. Damon swung at a helot, slicing its arm, but another tackled him, knocking him flat.

Gaius lashed out—her arm again, blood spraying—and she dove behind a tent, fast. He chased, whip cracking, snarling, "I'll rip you open—show 'em!" She popped up, dagger slashing for his neck—he ducked, whip hitting her leg, and she tripped, pain flashing. He grabbed her cloak, yanking hard—the bindings stretched, tearing—but Damon roared up, sword slashing Gaius's hand. Blood flew, Gaius yelled, and bolted into the chaos, gone.

Damon hauled her up, panting, eyes on her cloak—bindings peeked out, frayed but holding. "Lys—" he started, but a helot spear zipped past, nicking her shoulder, and she shoved him down, the camp exploding—screams, steel, fire.

A Spartan horn blasted—close, loud—and the helots scattered, darting into the dark. Gaius's laugh rang out, far but sharp. "Next time, runt!" he yelled, vanishing. Damon's grip tightened, his face a mess of questions, soldiers rushing in, the captain shouting, "Who's down?"

Her secret dangled, a bomb ticking louder, as helots faded and Damon stared—too close, too ready to pull the pin.