Good Saturday Morning Everyone!
Today my #SaturdayScenes is from my upcoming WIP
Kill Match. It is a dystopian fantasy that takes you back into the days of the Gladiators while still having a touch of the world as we know it. Here's a little back story before I share the scene:
65 years before
Kill Match, during the ugliest and most destructive war the world had ever known, the world began knitting itself together. All formations of land shifted until finally they became one. The remaining humans were pulled together, different cultures, different religions, different way of life and the killing persisted. Seven leaders stepped up to claim their people and decided on a treaty, one that would keep the human race alive. The seven leaders helped to build colonies in seven plots of the new world, each given the freedom to run their people however they would choose.
And out of the sands, Kardia was born.
The leader of Kardia had two sons and a wife who were the only family who had survived the carnage. He held them in the absolute highest regard and he couldn't fathom losing them. When his youngest son found a book while exploring, life changed drastically. He became obsessed with the lives of the Gladiators and would recruit all other children to play with him, forcing them to fight. One day, he created spears and pushed his best friend into fighting him. He was being ruthless towards the other boy and out of sheer survival the child fatally stabbed the leader's son.
Torn with grief at the loss of her son, the leader's wife became ill and not long after his death, she too died. The leader of Kardia went into complete shock, agony, grief... He shut himself out from the people for days, reading the book that his son had been so fond of and his anger grew. To honor his son and be true to his wife he declared a new law... The Gladiator Law.
This scene takes place in current Kardia, with the main character Librarea who is a Gladiatrix (a female Gladiator).
Enjoy!
#Dystopian #Fantasy #Historical #Fiction
*
The training room is stark white, jagged stones are hidden under never ending paint. This is the only room in the entire home of my Lanista that is painted. He told me once that the distraction of color could only come after every other discipline was mastered. With nothing else to focus on as a child, I had to pay attention to the contours of my trainers face, concentrating on only the moves of my opponent. As I got older, I began to understand the brilliance in his insanity. I begin pulling out the dummies so that by the time he gets here, I will already be halfway through our session. We both like it better when we can leave shortly after he arrives. I hear the door creak and sigh quietly under my breath. He’s early, which is a rare feat and never good. I pick up my pace and begin throwing dummies into the center of the room, adamant to continue my pace and get out early enough to reach the Dust Bowl before dark. I swing back a flour sack mixed between beans and flour and hear a deep ‘Oof’ come from behind. My heel catches a little on the stones as I quickly spin around. Surely my Lanista would not be so stupid as to get hit while I’m preparing the arena.
Long black hair spills over a bent head, shining with purple hues in the darkness. His dark black shirt and jeans are completely covered in flour, smeared around by his dusting hands. His olive brown skin is contrasting terribly with the powder and by the pout of his lips I can tell he’s unhappy. He sighs deeply, finally giving up on trying to wipe his clothes clean. He looks up at me, startling green eyes pierce through me angrily. He couldn’t have been much older than me, perhaps in his early twenties, so instead of bowing down, I fold my arms across me and snarl right back. This is my training time slot and my home. This stranger has no reason to be here making any guilt I had possibly felt dissipate. From the door, Alexander steps in, stopping in the frame. For a moment I think he’s going to let out a laugh but then his face turns serious.
“What happened here?”
I open my mouth to respond, but am beat by the stranger.
“Well, it looks like your girl here doesn’t watch where she’s throwing things.”
I growled at the condensation in his voice.
“Excuse me? You are in my training room, during my scheduled practice. I thought you were Lanista Aelius who at least knows better than to walk into the center of my arena while I am setting up!”
Alexander steps farther into the room and before the man can react he silences us both.
“ENOUGH!” He strode to stand between us. “It looks as if this were truly an accident. On both parts. I say we call a truce and start over.” I nod my head in agreement, but the stranger was reluctant. “Good. Now, Librarea, this is Nero. I have been briefing him on you for sometime now. He is here to take over, to be your new Lanista.”
My mouth dropped. I scrambled for words, unable to properly process the information I had just been given. My new Lanista? That couldn’t possibly be true. Had I honestly been traded? My face turned from confusion to anger.
“Now, Librarea. I know you think the worst, but patience must be your friend now. You have not been traded. This, for once, has nothing to do with you. I have decided to retire and Nero is the best trainee Lanista there is. He’s been under my guidance for a little under a year. As such he has requested to train the best, which we both know are my warriors. Because you are my greatest and oldest, he will start with you.”
I looked the man over, not being discreet in the slightest. I sighed, finally nodding, knowing I had no choice in the matter.
“How much longer will you be in control?”
“Probably another year, maybe two.”
I sighed. “Fine. Let’s do this then.” I turned from the men, continuing to put together my station.
“Does she always have such an attitude?”
My shoulders froze for a moment, clenched in the need to say something snotty. I wasn’t usually so disobedient to those higher in the ranks than I, but this guy had stretched every respectful nerve in my body in only moments. I took a deep breath then continued what I was doing, tuning out anything further that might be said.
“Librarea!” Alexander shouted. I whipped my head back to him, unaware of how long he had been trying to get my attention.
“Stop. You will not be working with dummies today. We are going to have you train hand to hand with Nero. It is the best way for him to gauge your abilities and for you to gain respect of his knowledge.”
I groaned. The last thing I wanted to do was put my new trainer on the ground. Or worst, have him take me out and then live with his arrogance that had already made itself easily noticeable. My fists clenched and I picked up one of the bags already laid out in the center.
“Fine.”
We cleared what I had drug out, the three of us only taking a few heartbeats to do it. I geared up for the fight, needing to wrap my hands and feet for protection. The rules were simple in training; no face or groin shots and once someone was down you stopped. It didn’t keep fighters from getting hurt, but it would minimize the chance if only by a miniscule amount. Good thing I didn’t fear this guy. He was taller than me by almost a foot, but not as tall as Alexander. He was slender like me, but tight coiled muscles wrapped around under his skin. He flexed while pumping his fists, loosening them up. He was deadly in his movements and anyone who didn’t know people would be afraid. I, however, could read the signs as if they were boldly written on his face. He was arrogant, and probably up until this point, rightfully so.
He was calm, but the tiny beads of sweat showed his anticipation. He wanted respect and he knew this was his chance to earn it. I hid a smile as I dipped my face back down to wrapping my feet. Any good fighter knew that you didn’t win a fight if you were fighting for any other reason than to win. I was sure if he had trained under Alexander at all he would know that, but it was obvious the idiot didn’t listen.
I finished wrapping my feet and stood slowly, making sure to stretch every muscle from the ground up. All his jumping around made me tired just looking at him and I wasn’t sure if he had never actually fought a Gladiatrix before or if he had simply lost all his training in his excitement. We met each other in the center, where a tight circle had been carved out of the paint. Alexander took one of each of our hands and held them on top of each other.
“Be clean. Fight well. Stay honorable.”
He had said those words hundreds of times to me and never had I felt the zing of anticipation I did this time. He released our hands and backed quickly to the far wall. We circled each other slowly, each of us gauging the others tactic. I watched his feet pace with mine, right over left. Right over left. It wasn’t until the third crossover that I saw his weak point. It was a tiny tweak in his left foot, likely an issue with his left hip or possibly his knee. I wasn’t a doctor to know the prognosis but I was a fighter and weaknesses were how you won. He caught the tiny movement of my mouth and narrowed his dark eyes before reaching out with a punch to my right shoulder. I turned just enough for him to catch the side of my arm and the burn of his strength tore through me. A tiny hiss left my lips before I refocused.
I wouldn’t want to get hit too many times by him. His throws were powerful and he would be able to take me down easily with only a few kicks or punches. I swiveled my hips so I began leading with my left foot and his tiny limp became present again. I quickly kicked out, going for the hip and hoping my gut feeling was correct. He saw the kick coming, but had anticipated the knee, bending down so my foot landed in the soft spot of his side. He swallowed, the reality finally kicking in that I was the highest ranked for a reason.
