Rain of the Blade

Rain pounded the hollow, a cold, relentless sheet soaking the camp, fires hissing into smoke under the storm's fury. Lysander gripped her dagger, blood flaking off the steel, her torn cloak sodden and flapping. The bindings beneath clung tight, frayed but hiding her secret. A girl in the agoge was Sparta's shame, a death blow she'd silence with blood. Her leg throbbed, blood soaking Damon's rag, her shoulder raw from Gaius's whip. Every breath burned, but she stood firm, masking it all. Damon stayed close, his sword crusted with helot blood, green eyes sharp and steady. He'd seen too much in that last fight, her bindings stretching, her stagger, and Gaius's Next time, runt! still echoed. She thought, He's too close, but I can't ditch him.

Spartan soldiers hunkered around the hollow, shields glinting wet, their captain barking orders. The scarred giant in a red cloak shouted, "Storm's cover, helots'll strike! Hold the line!" The herd, five left, soaked and wild, shuffled into place, Felix wheezing on his shield, blood mixing with rain. Gaius limped at the edge, whip coiled, his slashed chest oozing red. His laugh from the dark lingered in her skull, a vow of ruin. She knew he clutched that binding scrap from the ravine, his weapon to end her. She thought, He's still alive, fury simmering. I'll gut him if I get the chance.

They braced in the hollow, rain slashing their bare legs, the storm a roar of wind and water. Lysander's leg pulsed with each shift, blood seeping fresh, but she stood fast. Damon shadowed her, his presence solid, too solid. His hand brushed her arm as she swayed, steadying her just enough. He muttered, "Hold up," voice low, rough with worry. Her stomach knotted. She thought, Not now.

She snapped, "Hands off," forcing her voice gruff, a boy's tone she prayed held. He lingered, eyes searching, too warm, but she turned away. Gaius grinned across the hollow, whip tapping his thigh. She thought, He's waiting, ready to pounce.

The hollow tightened, a bowl of rock and mud, storm clouds black and boiling above. The captain barked, "Eyes out, they're close!" Soldiers tensed, Felix slumped against a stone, pale but glaring, watching her every move.

Lysander squinted through the rain, scrub swaying, shadows blurring in the downpour. She thought, They're coming, grip tightening. Gaius limped up, grinning through blood-streaked teeth. "Runt's soft, won't see 'em," he sneered, cracking his whip near her boots. Mud splashed, stinging her shins.

Damon stepped in, sword twitching at his side. "He's tougher than you, bleedout," he growled, voice hard, protective. She felt heat flare. She thought, For me, too much.

Gaius laughed, shoving her toward the hollow's rim, hard. Her leg buckled, pain spiking, but she caught herself on a rock. "See 'em then," he taunted, loud and mean. She growled, "Watch me," keeping her voice low, a boy's edge, dagger up, glaring. She thought, You're dead meat.

The captain shouted, "Line up, now!" She crouched at the edge, peering through the rain, wind ripping her cloak, blood dripping from her leg. Damon knelt beside her, too close, his breath steady. "You're bleeding bad," he hissed, worry sharp.

She snapped, "Quiet," eyes on the dark. She thought, He can't know. A flash, lightning, helots moving fast, spears glinting wet. She thought, There. She pointed, quick. "Left flank, closing in." Damon nodded, too near, his arm brushing hers, warm, real. She thought, Too real.

The captain barked, "Hit 'em! Out the hollow, go!" Soldiers grabbed weapons, the herd scrambling, five, soaked, ready. Lysander leapt up, charging fast, mud sucking her feet, leg throbbing. She thought, Move. Damon ran beside her, swift, sure, his eyes on her. "Stay with me," he said, voice firm, too firm.

She lied, "I'm good," hitting open ground, rain blinding, rocks cutting her feet. Gaius slogged behind, whip out, grinning. She thought, He's here. A yell, helots bursting in, torches dim, spears flashing. She thought, Now! She dove in, dagger slashing a helot's arm, blood sprayed, he dropped, screaming.

Damon fought beside her, sword tearing a helot's chest, red gushed, hot and wet, he shoved the body off, blocking a spear from her. "Stay close!" he yelled, voice fierce, his shoulder brushing hers. She thought, Too close. She nodded, slashing another helot's leg, down fast. She thought, He's got me, heat creeping.

Gaius roared, whip cracking, a helot's throat split,blood pouring, he locked on her, charging. "Runt's mine!" he shouted, lashing out. The whip hit her arm, pain flared, blood dripping, she ducked, lunging low. He swung, missing, and she slashed his thigh, quick, deep, red flowed. He roared, whip cracking her shoulder, fire exploded, old cuts tearing, but she rolled, dagger at his gut.

He twisted, whip snagged her wrist, yanked, bindings stretched. She thought, No! She kicked his wound, hard, blood gushed, he cursed, dropping. She slashed his arm, red poured, he stumbled. She thought, Down. Damon yelled, "Lys!" sword slashing a helot off her. She thought, He's mine.

The captain roared, "Push 'em!" Soldiers slammed in, shields crashed, herd surged, helots broke, scattering, rain pounded. She thought, Gone. Lysander panted, blood dripping, five left. She thought, Still here. Gaius crawled back, grinning. She thought, Not dead.

Damon grabbed her, steadying, his hand too warm. "You good?" he asked, eyes on her cloak. She thought, Bindings safe, searching her face, too soft.

She snapped, "Yeah," pulling free. She thought, Secret holds, but her leg bled, shoulder wept. She said, "Watch him, he's alive." He nodded, eyes deep. She thought, Too deep.

The captain barked, "Back in, hold!" The herd slogged back, slow, drenched, Felix glaring from the hollow. She thought, Alive. Lysander trudged up, pain roaring, Damon behind, pushing. She thought, Stay back. In the hollow, panting, she slumped, Damon beside, quiet, watching.

Rain lashed, cold, endless, fires died, soldiers tossed bread, soggy, small. Damon sat close, his knee brushed hers, voice low. "You took Gaius again, damn tough, Lys." His grin flickered, real, warm. She thought, Stop it, chest thumping.

She muttered, "Had to," splitting bread, half to him, his fingers grazed hers, slow. She thought, Too slow. "Thanks, for sticking," he said, rough, deep, eyes locked. She thought, Too much. She froze. She thought, Not yet.

She hissed, "Shut up," pulling back, voice low, boyish. A yell, soldiers up, "Helots!" Lightning cracked, helots back, spears gleaming. She thought, Again.

The captain roared, "Hold 'em!" Soldiers charged, herd jumped, Lysander stood, dagger out, Damon beside, tight. She thought, Always. Gaius limped up, whip ready, grinning, blood dripping. "Runt's dead!" he shouted, lashing out. The whip hit her leg, blood sprayed, she ducked, slashing his arm, red flowed.

Helots rushed, spears high, screaming, she spun, dagger in one's gut, fast, dead, blood sprayed. She thought, Keep going. Damon yelled, "Lys, right!" She turned, spear at her, dodged, slashed throat, red gushed. She thought, Down.

Gaius swung, whip missed, Damon tackled, sword slashed, Gaius's chest, shallow, blood seeped, he cursed, bolted. She thought, Gone again. A horn, Spartan, blared, helots scattered, rain pounding. She thought, Out.

Damon grabbed her, panting, arm around, too tight. "You hurt?" he asked, soft, eyes on her cloak. She thought, Safe, he's looking.

She lied, "No," shoving off, voice rough, leg bled, shoulder wept. She thought, Secret holds. She said, "Gaius, he's still out there." Damon nodded, eyes burning. She thought, Too much. The captain yelled, "Hold here, now!" Soldiers moved, herd limped, five. She thought, Less.

Gaius's laugh, far, sharp, "Next time, runt!" Damon's hand brushed hers, quick, warm. She thought, He's mine, as helots faded, her secret ticking, louder, closer. She thought, Not now.