Nemesis (Sparta Online Book 1)

by J. F. Danskin

  The hoplites gathered near the center of the rectangular training area. There was still no sign of Canis, Leo or their two companions, and so only seven of the boys from the Elysian Fields had gathered. The captains could be seen in the distance, talking quietly together with another Spartan warrior that Troy didn’t recognize.

  “Think we should tell the others now?” said Plato quietly, looking around at the small gathering of their fellow hoplites nearby.

  But Troy shook his head. “Let’s not. Like Andros said, they should be capable of leaving at a moment’s notice. So let’s not give them all day to worry about it. Plus, let’s not kid ourselves – some of them might decide to rat us out to the captains.”

  “True enough.”

  The female hoplites had gathered at the far end of the training ground, and as Troy watched on, they were joined by their captain, and walked off as a group. He spotted Europa just behind Captain Semele, and Clio near the back. Both were carrying their spears, as were their fellow trainees.

  Around ten minutes later it was the boys’ turn to go, too. Captain Theseus didn’t line them up, or even come over to them properly. Instead the stocky bald warrior hollered from the center of the training ground, gestured to them to follow, and then began to head over towards the Bathhouse at a light run.

  The hoplites followed.

  At the back of the Bathhouse there was a path to the city that Troy had not previously used. There were no steps this time, but after they had crossed the roughly circular outer path which was familiar to them from the race of a few days before, the route led downwards, flanked by two chest-height walls, and winding through a built-up area of smaller stone houses.

  Troy and Plato were at the very back of their group. “What’s the chances that we’ll get a good view of the event, do you think?” asked Plato.

  Troy chuckled. “I hadn’t even thought of that, but now that you come to mention it, I would very much like to see what is going on.”

  “Perhaps we should hurry ahead and get good seats, then.”

  “I doubt that they put hoplites anywhere near the front. In fact, we’ll be lucky if we get seats at all. Captain Theseus probably thinks it would be good for us to stand in our armor all day.”

  He very much hoped that this wouldn’t turn out to be the case, however. Not only were his muscles still aching from the exertions of the day before, he was feeling very hungry again, too, and there had been no food available before setting out.

  As they came closer, the noise of the amphitheater soon caught their attention, a dull roar from the crowd punctuated by clashing of metal and the screeching of some unseen beast. The building was very wide but set low to the ground, and was located at the end of a long and hugely wide road paved with white marble. It was a route that was clearly suitable for large groups of soldiers or chariots.

  Down the center of this avenue there were statues of great Spartans of history, and Troy recognized some of the names that were carved into the marble plinths beneath them:

  Agis IV

  Leonidas I

  Gorgo, Queen of Sparta

  Lycurgus

  Arachidamia

  Princess Cynisca

  The latter figure was dressed in athletic garb, and was holding a discus.

  Looking around on the road itself, piles of horse manure could be seen in multiple places, and Troy also saw some raggedy villagers, not unlike the Helots from the nearby village in terms of their homespun robes, engaged in the job of sweeping these off the surface and into trenches at the side of the route.

  Soon the hoplites had reached the grand entrance to the amphitheater. This consisted of an archway connected to a tunnel that led through the outer wall of the arena and to the seats beyond.

  As they progressed through, Troy saw to his surprise that the floor of the arena was several rows below him; although the outer ring-shaped structure was only a couple of stories high, this meant that there were many more seats overall than he had first realized. The entire structure had been built upon a slight slope, it appeared, and the sandy central ground of the arena was hollowed into the earth itself.

  The source of the roaring and clashing that they heard became immediately obvious; in the center was a massive lizard, surrounded by ten warriors. These were no hoplites, but rather experienced and fully-armored Spartan warriors, both men and women who were holding spears and shields but wearing no armor at all, just loose white robes.

  The arena was around three-quarters full already, and the recruits were soon directed to seats near the back via a barked order from Captain Theseus. Not standing all day, then, Troy thought to himself. But certainly not good seats. The worst, quite possibly.

  As the assembled audience watched on, the gathered warriors on the arena floor landed one spear blow after another on the roaring lizard, and within a couple of minutes, the creature slumped to the ground in a pool of blood. The spectacle had been no real contest, at least during the part that the boys had witnessed.

  “That will be the warm up act finished, then,” muttered Plato, as half a dozen youths dressed in short blue robes emerged to drag the body of the unfortunate beast away by the tail, while the audience broke into applause punctuated by the occasional half-hearted cheer.

  Clearly the Spartan citizens wanted some real sport.

  As they waited for the next event, Troy glanced around. At the far side of the arena floor, far below him, there were sets of wooden blocks, baskets of ribbons, and on the far side, an enormous battle axe hung upon the stone wall. Could this be the Axe of Menelaus, he wondered?

  Closer, in the seats immediately below him, sat citizens of various kinds who looked more like merchants or scholars than the Spartan soldiers he was used to seeing. While he could only see their backs from where he was sitting, it was clear that most were wealthy, powerful individuals – not farmers or Helots, that was for sure. He saw rich fabrics, furs, and stitched clothing which was skillfully tailored and had gems set into the clasps and fastenings. There was little in the way of jewelry, however. Perhaps that was not the Spartan way.

  Skill boost! You have developed your knowledge. +5XP

  Looking further down, Troy could see that besides themselves, the only people in armor were experienced Spartan warriors seated in the foremost six rows of the arena: high status, good seats.

  Someone near the front shouted with excitement, and another round of applause and foot stamping began, this time with more fully-throated cheers, as the female hoplites began to file in through the tunnel to the left. They made their way down to the arena floor in a single line, their spears held high.

  The Trial of Hippolyta was about to begin.

  * * *

  “Are you looking forward to this, man?” asked Plato.

  Troy smiled. “I know I’ll be really nervous when it’s our turn to do the Trial, but for now we can relax and enjoy the spectacle. I hope that Clio does all right. She’s worried. But even if she comes last and is banished, well…” He lowered his voice and moved his head closer to Plato’s ear. “We’re leaving anyway. All of us are going to be banished by the end of the day.”

  With that, Troy sat back and folded his arms.

  The youths in blue robes had now brought the many blocks of wood – barricades, pedestals and the like – into the center of the floor, and were erecting them around the circular area. Meanwhile, the ten female hoplites had been directed to line up a couple of yards apart from each other at the far edge of the arena. There, each young woman embedded her spear firmly into the sandy ground, and then stood in front of it.

  As this was going on, a holy man walked into the center of the arena holding a struggling lamb in his hand and a dagger in the other. As the crowd began to cheer, he slit the throat of the innocent beast, and began to drizzle its blood around the sandy ground, yelling words that Troy was too far away to hear and covering his own clothing with blood in the process. He then turned and walked up the steps and out via the entrance
tunnel.

  “What was that about?” asked Troy.

  “It’s a sacrifice to the gods, particularly to Athena,” Plato replied. “Blessing the ceremony. The Greeks would do things like that before the Olympics, too. And not always just animals.”

  “Sick.”

  Plato had taken his bag of possessions with him, and was holding the golden circlet, turning it over in his hands. Troy nodded downwards at it. “Any luck with getting that thing to do anything useful?”

  In response, Plato shrugged. “A little.” He put the circled on his head, pulled out the small golden figure of a cow from his bag, and narrowed his eyes. The figure appeared to move slightly – or was it just Plato moving his knee? Then a pulsing movement, at which the cow seemed to get a little larger, expanding as if it was heating up. After which, nothing.

  “Did you see that?” Plato asked, lifting up the little figure, his eyes gleaming.

  “Uh… it moved a bit?”

  “Right? Yeah. There was a twitch of the leg, for sure. Or maybe not. I definitely got the panther to move when I tried it last night. But I tell you, it hurts like hell, a burning pain right behind my eyes. My mind gets tired just from trying it.” With this, the young man put both the circlet and the figure back into his shoulder bag.

  Soon the hoplites had begun their first trial. The wooden obstacles had been set up in the form of a circuit, and each trainee had begun to run around them, leaping over some of them, ducking under others, and lightly stepping on top of some of the small pillars of wood before moving on. Captain Semele watched on, holding her baton.

  “It’s a race?” murmured Troy.

  “Clio’s doing pretty well,” responded Plato.

  She was. The muscular Europa was crossing the obstacles with ease, but Clio was swifter overall, and had soon passed another of her fellow hoplites. It was hard to tell their overall positions, though, as each woman had begun in a different place. All the same, Troy felt confident that their comrades who had aided them against the hydra were doing better than most of the competitors.

  Soon it was over, and the girls were ordered to line up at the back of the arena once again, standing by the spears. Silence fell as Captain Semele walked along the line, and she pointed four times to participants, and woolen ribbons were attached to their spears by the young helpers.

  Then, as Captain Semele reached the end, she slashed down with her baton twice, striking two of the hoplites – one blonde and one dark haired – who both staggered backwards under her blows. The remaining hoplites bowed their heads, still standing by their spears, while the two who had been singled out – and who had presumably come in last place, Troy reasoned – were stripped of their light armor by the blue-robed helpers and sent from the arena wearing only their simple Grey under-robes. Their spears remained on the sand behind them.

  “Damn,” said Troy, as he watched them go.

  Plato looked around. “What?”

  “I knew that three hoplites were to be banished today, but I guess I thought that it would happen at the end, or perhaps back at the training ground. Those two don’t know about our plan, and they won’t have their weapons. They won’t know anything about going to the mountains with us.”

  Plato raised his eyebrows, pushing his long dark hair out of his face as he looked around at his friend. “I’m tempted to say ‘no great loss’.”

  “Come on,” said Troy, frowning. “Isn’t the whole point that nobody has had their proper chance to develop? We’ve been mistreated, underfed and denied our equipment, and those two are no different.” With that, he stood, and began to squeeze past the other spectators, realizing that this may be his last chance to ask the two banished girls to join them in the mountains.

  Skill boost! You have developed your valor. +5XP

  “Wait. Are you serious?” called Plato, still sitting.

  But Troy wasn’t stopping.

  He hurried down the steps towards the arena floor, hearing some jeers as he went. “Get out of the way, boy,” called out one citizen as he passed in front, obscuring the man’s view. Down below him on the arena floor, the female hoplites had now been formed up onto four pairs, and were ready to fight with staves, though this particular part of the contest had not yet begun.

  Troy, however, turned away to the side before he reached the center, making instead for the exit tunnel. Ahead of him he saw the hoplites who had lost the race. They were being escorted out by a pair of armored warriors, with one of the blue-robed youths standing behind, still holding the banished hoplites’ armor.

  Ahead of the group stood the holy man who had killed the lamb, together with an important-looking man of advanced years who was wearing very grand robes of green wool with white trim, and a mysterious long necklace that looked like it was made of small iron bars.

  Troy pulled over to the side, keeping out of sight as he listened in.

  Skill boost! You have developed your survival skills. +5XP

  Hmm. That suggested he had been successful in evading their notice. Unlike the previous night.

  The robed man seemed to be telling the girls that they would be guarded there until the end of the contest. Staying close to the edge of the tunnel, he crept closer. But this time, he had not stayed well hidden; the man in green woolen robes looked around at him. “Hoplite?” he said inquiringly.

  Stealth was now out of the window, he could see, and he instead stepped out into the center of the area. “Master, I am a loyal and willing trainee soldier of Sparta,” he said, mustering as much confidence as he could, “and I want to volunteer to guard these two women before they are banished. It would be a tragedy for any of our city’s experienced soldiers to miss the entertainment of the rest of the current contest.”

  The old man narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he looked at Troy, but when he glanced around at the pair of soldiers, one of them nodded eagerly.

  “Very well, then, Castor,” he said to the warrior. “You may return to the arena.” He looked again at Troy. “Hoplite, keep your weapon handy. We don’t want this pair fleeing, for before they are banished they must both be humiliated before the crowd, as is traditional.”

  With this, the robed leader turned and walked back to the arena with the holy man in his wake, while Captain Semele began to shout orders to the hoplites on the arena floor to begin their next trial.

  The remaining Spartan warrior had rested his spear against the side wall and moved a few paces back down the tunnel so that he, too, could get a glimpse of the proceedings. So much for keeping their weapons handy, thought Troy.

  He looked over at the two hoplites, both of whom looked entirely devastated. One had blonde hair which was longer than Clio’s and tied back tightly, and had pale skin. The other had short wavy dark hair and olive-colored skin. Both were an inch or two shorter than himself.

  “I’m Troy,” he said.

  “We know,” said the blonde hoplite coldly. “What are you doing here?”

  But the dark haired one put a hand on her comrade’s shoulder. “He’s obviously here to help, Ianthe.” She looked around at Troy. “I am Nyx. Thank you for coming, but I’m afraid it’s too late for us. Our captain doesn’t care. We will be banished from this place, and have to scrape a miserable, cursed living until such time as we are killed and returned to boot camp in Technoburbia.”

  “Better if they kill us now,” muttered Ianthe.

  Nyx glared around at her comrade. “That can be arranged.”

  “Listen, both of you,” said Troy, stepping closer, while keeping a close eye on the nearby warrior. “It doesn’t have to be this way. I have reason to think that the training system is broken, most likely undermined by our city’s enemies.”

  The girls looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then Nyx looked back at Troy and raised her eyebrows.

  “Go on.”

  Level: Hoplite (Level 4)

  XP: 1000 (unspent: 0550)

  Hit points: 27/27

  Luck points: 1<
br />
  Mana points: 10

  Equipment: belt; coin pouch; dagger; greaves; hoplon shield; iron hatchet; spear.

  Chapter 28: The Trial Continues

  Troy glanced at the nearby warrior, and then stepped even closer to Ianthe and Nyx.

  “The captains have been spotted speaking to the city’s enemies,” he said quietly, “and it appears that the way our training has been done is deliberately harmful. Look at what just happened to you! They are not trying to make you better soldiers. They are trying to ruin you. It’s a system that only benefits our enemies.”

  Nyx again seemed interested, but Ianthe was frowning at him, her arms folded.

  “This all seems really unlikely,” she said. “I bet the boys have just been crying about how tough it is, and came up with a suitable story. We’ve been here for weeks, you know. And there were another group before us.”

  “It’s not just that. I mean, I get what you are saying, and I know we shouldn’t just complain. But surely people shouldn’t be getting lost or killed quite so much? We’re all new and still learning. We’re not really being given a chance. They want us to fight among ourselves, and ultimately they want us to fail.”

  Skill boost! You have developed your interpersonal skills. +5XP

  “I hear you, kid,” said Nyx. “But isn’t the Spartan training supposed to be tough? That’s what Andros told us from day one.”

  “Right. That’s what I thought too. But even Andros is on our side now. He knows that the captains are evil – he’s just unable to stop them. We’re leaving, and he supports us.”

  “Really?” said Ianthe. She still looked suspicious, but she had unfolded her arms and stepped closer to the other pair.