Clay Legionary (Clay Warrior Stories Book 1)

by J. Clifton Slater

  He was saved from deciding when Corporal Gratian arrived.

  “Sergeant, Recruit Sisera is in transit to the Eastern Legion,” he explained. “He has no prior experience in competition. Put him in the first round.”

  “His gear looks well used. Plus, it’s in superb shape,” the Sergeant voices full of suspicion. “You better have not brought in a ringer, Gratian.”

  “He just arrived yesterday from the western region,” the Corporal explained. “The gear’s old and on loan from our quartermaster. He’s definitely a first rounder.”

  The Marshal of the competition moved his hand from the short stack to a taller stack of parchment.

  “What’s you name again?” he asked as he picked up a quill.

  Chapter 18 - The Tournament

  Recruit Sisera watched the first three fights. All the competitors used basic Legion fighting moves. The difference between the winners and losers were simply strength and endurance. When his name was called, he fitted the helmet on his head and drew his gladius.

  The man was short and thick through the shoulders. Although he delivered powerful strikes, he lacked foot work. Alerio shuffled in and out and from side to side. The powerful strikes soon became weak taps as the man wasted his energy in the first few flurries. Alerio parried the man’s blade and drove the point of his gladius into the man’s midsection. The armor prevented physical damage but didn’t stop the embarrassment of him being pushed down on his butt.

  The Marshal stepped in and declared Recruit Sisera the winner. Some of the crowd groaned while others cheered halfheartedly.

  At the entrance to the corral, Alerio was met by Corporal Gratian. To his surprise and delight, the NCO handed him a roasted turkey leg and a pouch of coins.

  “Thought you’d like the money and you looked hungry,” came the explanation.

  “Who’s next?” asked Alerio as he ripped off a section of the bird with his teeth.

  “There are seven more matches in the first round,” the Corporal explained. “The Marshal will select the matches for the second-round from the winners.”

  “Where are the competitors for the top brackets,” Alerio inquired.

  “They wouldn’t fight for another three rounds,” the NCO said. “So they’re over behind the supply tent.”

  “I’m going to take a look at them,” declared Alerio.

  He strolled away as the next fight started. Behind him, he recognized the rhythm of basic sword strikes. In his mind, he matched the clash of blades with the moves required to deliver them. It was all basic.

  On the far side of the supply tent, an area had been roped off. In the area camps had been set up for the top swordsmen. Alerio walked to the rope and glanced from camp to camp. At one, two men were sparing. One left handed battled against a right hander.

  They didn’t restrict their moves to basic sword strikes. They leaped and danced while fainting and parring in fluid motions. Their blades blurred and flashed so quickly, Alerio couldn’t follow the path until the blade tip stopped on an opponent’s chest.

  He walked back towards the makeshift arena knowing his short career as a competitor was doomed to end. Though, a positive thought crept into the negative idea. He turned it over in his mind.

  His name was called and he faced off against a thin, quick man. While his footwork made Alerio’s seem as if he were dragging his feet in the sand, the man didn’t have enough strength to power through Alerio’s blocks. On the third pass, Alerio hooked the man’s blade and sent it flying across the corral.

  The Marshal rushed out and declared Recruit Sisera the winner. Around them, the boos had more venom while the cheers grew in intensity.

  As he marched from the corral, Alerio took the purse and the meat pie from a grinning Corporal Gratian.

  “Make it through one more round and you’ll walk away with a tidy profit,” the NCO informed him.

  “Suppose I make it to the fourth round?” Alerio asked. “And win?”

  “What makes you think you can win against an experienced swordsman,” the NCO asked puzzled by the farm boy’s confidence.

  “That depends on the Marshal’s selection,” Alerio explained. “If he matches me against the left handed swordsman, I think I can win.”

  “You want to fight Daedalus?” the Corporal asked in horror. “He’s with the City Guard and, on occasion, he fights in the arena. Nobody wants to fight Daedalus.”

  “I do. If the Marshal sets it up,” Alerio said.

  He and Corporal Gratian wandered around looking at the items for sale while munching on baked goods. Finally, the NCO stopped and faced Alerio.

  “What makes you think you can beat Daedalus?” he asked looking to see if the teen was drunk or had a head injury.

  “He’s left handed but practices against right handed sparing partners,” Alerio said. “What he’s doing is reinforcing his advantage. Take that away, and he’s at a disadvantage.”

  “And you can counter his advantage?” inquired the NCO.

  “I believe I can,” Alerio confirmed. “If the Marshal gives me the opportunity.”

  “No one wants to fight him anyway. I can’t imagine the Marshal getting merda from the gamblers for setting up the match,” the Corporal said softly as if he were thinking out loud. He stared at the farm boy for a few intense seconds before speaking, “I’ll set it up. You win the next round and you’ll have your match.”

  Chapter 19 - The Arena

  Round three was easier than Alerio anticipated. His opponent possessed good skills with the gladius and adequate footwork. But, he’d fought two long battles and he was exhausted. With no stamina, it wasn’t long before Alerio trapped the man’s blade. Once the man was stationary, Alerio drove a knee into his chest. A backhand strike with the flat of his blade sent the man to the sand.

  The Marshal strolled out with his arms extended playing to the crowd. A hush fell over the spectators as the Sergeant turned from one fighter to the other.

  When a murmur of impatience ran through the audience, the Marshal shouted, “The winner of round three, Recruit Sisera.”

  This time the cheers drowned out the boos. Recruit Sisera had picked up a following. There were five winners who’d survived the first three rounds. These five amateurs would face off against five ranked fighters in round-four.

  To encourage betting, the competitors for the round four battles were paraded into the corral. Corporal Daedalus of the City Guard led the procession of ranked fighters and the Marshal placed Recruit Sisera at the head of the amateurs. No cheering greeted the procession; the spectators sat in weighted silence.

  Starting at the rear, the Marshal pulled the last man from each line. He guided them to the center of the arena and announced the contestants. The crowd cheered. As he continued to make his way up the line, pulling out men and calling out the match ups, the cheering grew louder.

  When the Marshal stood between the last two fighters, the audience knew the final matchup of round four.

  “Corporal Daedalus, of the City Guard, five wins and ten second places, plus six appearances in the city arena.” the Sergeant shouted over the screaming crowd. “versus Recruit Sisera, of the Eastern Legion, no record.”

  Most of the time round-four was a formality. The amateurs would lose quickly and the ranked fighters would move on to face people more in their class. Even the gamblers knew the odds so, betting was usually light.

  Chapter 20 - The Betting

  Corporal Gratian wandered through the crowd trying to get a read on where the money flowed. People discussed the matches, mostly discounting the amateurs, yet, there were a few who seemed pro Recruit Sisera.

  He had coin from the first three rounds and was confident the Recruit would lose in round four. Yet, the more he heard and the more he thought about the lad’s confidence, the less sure he was about betting on Daedalus.

  The gamblers were sitting quietly having taken all the bets before the start of round-four. Despite the attractive odds, few had pla
ced coin on any of the amateurs. Recruit Sisera was different and a few people had bet on him. But the bookies ignored the bets figuring his backers were simply caught up in the hype of three lucky wins.

  Corporal Gratian strolled casually up to the bookies.

  “This hurts,” he said. “but I’ve got to place a few coins on my guy. Support the home team, you know.”

  The six bookies understood a Legion Corporal tossing away coin to show backing for one of his men. His bet was more for morale than a chance to win. Five turned away while the sixth bookie held out his hand for the few coins he expected.

  Corporal Gratian swallowed hard, creased his brow and, hesitantly, pulled a full purse from his belt. The bookie’s eyes shot up when the heavy pouch landed in his hand.

  “Recruit Sisera for the win against Daedalus,” Gratian whispered so people in the passing crowd wouldn’t hear.

  A piece of parchment with the odds and the amount of the bet was passed to the Corporal. He walked away feeling like a fool for throwing away his money.

  Chapter 21 - The Conspiracy

  There had been little blood spilled during the first three rounds of fighting. When round four started, the ranked fighters needed to put on a show so they intentionally wounded the amateurs. The crowd loved it and the cheering reached a high pitch as each amateur fell to the more experienced swordsmen.

  After each bout, Medics escorted or carried the injured from the corral. Then, Legionaries rushed out to throw sand over the red spots and rake the sand.

  “They’re being especially brutal,” Corporal Gratian explained. “Usually, the ranked fighters are satisfied with a display of swordsmanship. But this, this is butchery.”

  “What’s different?” Alerio asked.

  “I don’t know,” the Corporal admitted. “Let me go ask around.”

  He left Sisera at the corral and disappeared into the crowd.

  Gratian avoided the usual gambling circles and moved to the edges of the spectators. He spoke with a few of his Legionaries asking them to mingle to see why the fighters were drawing blood in every match. His men spread out and he waited at a central location for their reports.

  A few minutes later, two of his men returned and both looked troubled.

  “There’s a bounty on Sisera,” one reported.

  “Five Republic Golds, dead or alive,” the other added. “The fighters are drawing blood so when Sisera falls, it’ll look like an accident during a rough tournament.”

  Corporal Gratian was troubled for two reasons. A Legionary was about to be executed legally. As a Corporal, he couldn’t abide losing a man. The other reason was the large bet he’d placed on a targeted fighter. Both thoughts turned his stomach, as neither outcome was satisfactory.

  He raced back to the makeshift arena and approached the Recruit.

  “Sisera. Don’t fight him,” the NCO ordered. “There’s a bounty on you and Daedalus plans on collecting it.”

  “Who did you bet on?” Alerio asked. The teen was running a grinding stone down the blade of his gladius.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, I bet on you,” Gratian said. “It’s only coin and not worth your life. So forfeit and we’ll get you out of here.”

  The big farm boy smiled and shook his head, “Can’t do that to you Corporal. I’m going to fight him.”

  Just then the crowd erupted in cheers as an amateur gushed blood and fell to the sand. In the deafening roar, Gratian motioned sharply for them to leave the arena. Sisera shook his head no and continued sharpening the blade.

  Chapter 22 - The Corral Fight

  Corporal Daedalus of the City Guard had thin legs, long arms, and the beginnings of a gut. With his left hand, he spun the gladius putting on a show for the audience. A few knee bends while the blade whirled brought applause and a few cheers. There was no doubt he was an expert swordsman and a crowd favorite. During the exhibition, he never looked at his opponent.

  He didn’t have to as he’d received reports on the boy’s fighting style. Better than average foot work, strong defense, but basic striking skills. And he was decidedly right handed. Overall, Sisera shouldn’t have a chance against a left handed attack.

  Daedalus had resisted when the gang member approached him. Still, he was City Guard and had to live with all elements of the Capital’s population. Not only would he receive the five Republic Golds, the gang would owe him a favor. In a crowded city having friends in the underworld would prove useful. So, when the other fighters began to bleed the amateurs as cover, he agreed to kill the boy.

  Alerio watched the swordsman preen for the crowd. His response was a few swings of his gladius and a shrug of his shoulders.

  The Marshal walked to the center of the corral waving his arms to silence the spectators.

  “This is the final match of round four,” he announced. “Corporal Daedalus and Recruit Sisera will fight to see who moves on to round five. Gentlemen, are you ready?”

  Daedalus raised his gladius and bounced the hilt off his chest. Sisera copied the salute and the Marshal backed away while motioning for the fighters to begin.

  Alerio assumed a guard stance as Daedalus raised his blade and moved to the boy’s left. The movement was designed to entice a right handed fighter into taking a swing at the blade.

  Two right handed fighters would face a mirrored foe. With one being left handed, his opponent couldn’t deliver a powerful sweeping blow. It would leave the lefty’s blade inside his guard, opening a path to the righty’s side. This was Daedalus’ advantage. He continued to circle.

  Alerio ignored the opening and moved counter to his opponent. The crowd groaned as the fighters circled but didn’t engage. They didn’t realize the duel wasn’t a tournament competition. It was a life and death sword fight.

  Daedalus attacked first. He came in hard with swift strokes designed to confuse Alerio. Their blades connected time and time again. Alerio used only defense as he backed away from the expertly delivered strikes. Stepping back and to the side, allowed him to stay away from the blade while moving around the corral. Daedalus grew weary of the flurry and let Alerio put distance between them.

  “For a tall man, you have small hands,” Alerio teased. “You know what they say about small hands.”

  “What?” Daedalus asked. He’d been taunted and threatened many times over the years but no one had ever commented on his physical attributes.

  “I bet you have a huge set of cōleī,” Alerio said as he raised his blade. “The gods are kind like that. Compensation for a small mentula.” Then he relaxed his guard and looking confused asked, “Is that the correct wording? Or did I get it wrong?”

  Daedalus went from amused, to angry, to feeling the need to reply. For a second the boy’s quizzical look and stupid ramblings caused him to lower his guard.

  Alerio circled his blade inside Daedalus’ low guard and knocked the man’s blade to the side. For a split second, he had a clear path to the man’s unguarded chest. He brought the blade back using the power of his chest muscles and just as the tip reach Daedalus, the experienced fighter leaned back. A deep cut appeared on his armor.

  Taking advantage of the wide swing, Daedalus reached out and ran the tip of his gladius through Alerio’s armor and into his deltoid muscle. He was aiming for the shoulder joint to cripple the lad, but Alerio rolled the shoulder forward. The blade only skewed the meat of his shoulder cap.

  Daedalus was incensed. The blow was supposed to be a double move. One to cripple the shoulder, then as he withdrew the blade, he’d angle it to cut the boy’s throat. Simple one, two and this fiasco would be over. But the boy rotated inward instead of exposing his neck by leaning away from the blade.

  The crowd screamed and howled as blood began running down Alerio’s right arm.

  Above the roar, Alerio heard Corporal Gratian yelling, “Walk away! Walk away!”

  All the Corporal could see was the lad’s blood soaked right arm dropping seemly unable to support the weight of his gladius and t
he Recruit’s eyes looking down at the sand. Daedalus also noted the weakness and lack of focus.

  Instead of waiting for the muscle to full cramp and for more blood lose from the shoulder injury, Daedalus stepped in close to the boy. Three inches closer and he’d have the boy’s right arm trapped. There was a problem with the maneuver as he couldn’t use his own gladius. He’d have to shove the boy away in order to finish him off.

  Alerio noticed the foot as it snaked between his feet. Coming in from his right, the foot would hook his heal and send him tumbling helplessly to the ground. Just as Daedalus’ foot reached the point where he could trip the boy, Alerio moved.

  He clamped his legs together trapping Daedalus’ leg. Then, he jumped and twisted. The rotation forced the experienced fighter off balance and he found himself slammed into the sand on his left arm. While Alerio spun in the air, he reached across and grabbed the gladius from his injured right arm.

  Both men ended up on the sand, their legs intertwined. Daedalus began to roll away, confident he could gain his footing, and kill the injured boy. He never made it.

  Alerio flexed his stomach muscles and twisted to a sitting position. With his strong and able left arm, he struck Daedalus in the head. The fighter collapsed. But Alerio didn’t notice or care, he continued to pound the unconscious man’s helmet until the Marshal pulled him away.

  Unfortunately, the boy’s shoulders were slick with blood. The Marshal lost his grip. The gladius began to swing towards the off balanced and unarmored Sergeant. It was half a body’s distance from the man when Corporal Gratian tackled Alerio.

  “At ease Recruit Sisera,” he said while twisting Alerio’s head around so he could look into the lad’s eyes. “Stand down. It’s over. Steady.”

  “Am I dead?” Alerio asked looking up at the Corporal. “Because you’re the ugliest Valkyrie I’ve ever heard of.”