OUTCAST : THE PATH OF A WARRIOR

8. BATTLE OF THE GLADIATORS

CHAPTER 8

The guard wasn't lying... It was a beautiful day to die.

A warm early spring morning, reminded me of home, but there were no aroma of fresh flowers, or the smell of the red earth, recently plowed and sowed under my feet, no birds whistling, or chirping cheerfully on the branches.

No, that'll be home on our little farm.

But instead, there was the stench of blood, the scent of perspiring unwashed men, wearing nothing but old ragged cloth, trembling at their ill fated predicament.

The resounding welcoming chorus, for us, the next victims, was at long last subsiding. The laughter and discourteous remarks thrown at us was more than enough to bear, like hyenas taunting their prey.

After all we were a bunch of strange mix of young, old, the weak, the strong, slaves, prisoners, black , white, the in between, and then.... there was me.... the monster.

We all stood there, like sheep to the slaughter, holding our weapons awkwardly, waiting for what's coming.

I looked around at our group and could feel the fear reflecting among all of us, men trembling at their knees, their empty sagging faces, praying to their Gods for a last minute reprieve, or a quick painless death.

"Hey..." Said one of the two bigger men, looking at me. He was one of two who occupied my cell earlier. "If you understand what i'm saying, just nod."
I nodded, with a puzzled expression.

"We need to stick together and fight together....do you have any fighting experience?" He asked, eyes wide, with expectations.

" No, but I was trained to hunt with my tribe!".... I said, hoping not to disappoint.
"Oh... right...! That's good!" He said as he turned towards the rest.

"Listen up everyone, my name is Morat and this here is Matsu!" He continued, pointing to his fellow strong clansman. " We are slaves to the house of Francesco." He explained, showing the letter 'F' branded on his upper arm.

" We were once soldiers, fighting across the seas,  before captured and enslaved!"

"Most of us don't even know how to hold our weapon straight, let alone fight!" Said a scrawny slave, shaking at the knees.

"I see, no training at all ha! And what does the M stand for on your arm?" Morat said.

"We were slaves to the Master...as he had no more use for us, he sold us off, for a small profit I gather, to fight and die in the Arena. "

" Well, pretty much our story too, only he didn't like his slaves making out with wife, so here we are." Said Morat, with a wry smile towards Matsu.

"So unless you don't have a mark on you, then you're either a prisoner or a professional madman...I quess." Then looked at me a moment, and noticed that I had no mark, and shrugged his shoulders. "Which are you?" He asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders too, and since I wasn't a professional, I must have been the former.

"Well, if any of you want to at least...try to defend yourselves!"Said Morat, holding his sword up to demonstrate,  swinging it in slow motion, slicing and thrusting at an imaginary opponent." Then I suggest you listen carefully!" He continued

"Whether you can fight or not, the only chance we may have to at least go out in style, is to fight back to back, in formation, and in a circle! Do you all understand?" He said, all fired up. "The strong ones..." He said, pointing to the three of us.

"We will be facing the enemy as they charge at us, the rest of you protect our flank." He said,

" And by the will of the Gods, may they give us the strength to fight well, and if we must die...Let us at least die with honour!" He said, whilst putting extra effort to be heard.