Secutor

Rian himself was used to rising with the sun. When the instructors arrived to wake the new Gladiators, he was dressed and ready. His companions, however, were not, and were subsequently awoken rather unpleasantly. Kieu had a loud voice.

"Come on, girlies!" He bellowed cheerfully, taking obvious pleasure in the role of drill sergeant. "Up with the sun, lasses, up with the sun!" Here he turned to Nadeia. "No offense to you. But these young bucks are lazy!" She smiled hesitantly, her blue eyes lighting up her dark, mysterious face. "Our farmer boy's up! Hurry up the rest of you! You'd think you lot were nobles!"

Eventually Sam, Thomas and Zacharel tumbled out of their rooms, sleepy and grumbling. "Glad you all thought to join us! Now, off to the mess hall!"

Rian and all of his cart-mates were very happy at this announcement. None of them had had anything since noon the day before.

"While in Ludus Kapurna, you will eat three solid meals a day. We need you all in top shape." Kieu said cheerily from the front of the line.

Rian's sore muscles groaned in protest. He'd never run this much before in his life.

"Yew know, farmers are slow an' sedate generally!" Rian yelled up to Kieu. "All this runnin'd be against m' nature... if I weren' as brigh' a boy as I am.

Someone replied with, "Aye, bright as the Sun Lord you are." Rian, startled, glanced at Nadeia in time to see her hide a smile.

The mess hall was not a true hall but, rather, a tent in the center of the compound, with tables set up out in the open under the sun. The compound was a rectangle. Rian had gathered that the mess hall, and the place the gladiators gathered to hear the Lanista speak were in the center of this pen. At the south was the main entrance. This was up against the coastline, making it harder to enter the compound, and forcing an attacker to spread out into an easily counted or killed line. The Lanista's quarters were in the northwest corner. The male barracks were in the northeast. The female barracks were in the southwest, and a large building someone had said was the infirmary was in the southeast. Along the northern wall was the arena Kieu had tested them in. Scattered about in various places were other training facilities. South, in front of the gates, were what Rian had come to think of as the punishment area. It was where the escaped slaves were hanging.

It was little things such as this that would give him an edge over his fellow students. He liked Thomas, Sam and... Nadeia. But he wasn't going to be the one to die, if it came to that. If he was nothing else, Rian was a survivor.

Breakfast that morning was eggs, sausage, bread and water. The cook said that they should eat up, because they weren't allowed much of a lunch. Unfortunately, said the cook, lunches eaten by new recruits usually came back up during the course of day. Wonderful.

As they were the newly oathbound – a term for someone that had taken the Gladiator's Oath - Rian and the rest of his cart were ignored by the other Gladiators. Not that the others did much talking to begin with.

Rian shoveled the food into his mouth as quickly as possible, his appetite having come back in full force over the short night. The others were doing the same. Gradually, the silent Gladiators stood and walked away, one by one. The newly Oathbound stood around, confused, wondering what to do. Kieu was nowhere in sight.

"Get to the training arena, gutter rats." Growled the cook from the tent.

They looked around at each other. "Well, I s'pose we 'ought tah take off, then." Rian mumbled. He went northward at a jog, despite the pain, trusting Kieu's experience. Rian fully planned on surviving this trial. Soon the other followed, and Nadeia caught up to Rian, her long, even strides covering more ground more efficiently than Rian's. He matched her pace and stride, and liked the results.

They arrived at the arena from the day before a good minute before the others to find Kieu. He was leaning on the outside of the railing surrounding the field, a grin on his face.

"You two look like a pair of thoroughbreds matching their paces on the parade ground. That's good – means you two will work well together. But where are the others? I see they don't run nearly as well as you two. Ah, here they come." He raised his voice to a bellow that an army general would envy. "Come ON you lazy gutter whelps! PICK up your FEET."

As they arrived, he began. "Now then. Today you will begin your training. I believe I explained yesterday how Gladiators are different than other warriors. You're trained to disable instead of kill. However, you would be a bore to the crowds if it were simply two armored men going in and trying to disarm the other. So, there are different classes of Gladiators, who wear different amounts of armor, wield different weapons, fight with different styles. Essedaria," he bowed to Nadeia, "I'm afraid you have the hardest lot of all of us. It's not enough for the crowd to see women fight as the men do – it's considered quite disgusting, actually. No, women must learn to fight with grace as well skill. Once you learn the basics, you will train with a specialist in this area. For now, though, you learn with us."

"The Essedaria fight unarmored, with only a single sword, or a bow. Generally with one breast exposed." Nadeia flinched and hugged her arms protectively around herself. Kieu nodded in sincere sympathy. "I know. But it's what brings in the largest crowds. Female fighters are a rare treat to the public. That's good for you, though – makes you more valuable, and thus less likely to be killed."

He turned to the four males now, all trace of sympathy gone. "The rest of you will have some sort of armor on. Thomas. You did not fight well yesterday. This is not just from lack of training – you don't have a true skill with weapons. You'll need to work hard to make up for that. However, you have some strength in your arms that will allow you to wear armor and a shield. You shall fight as a Thracian, wear chest and head armor, and wield a small shield and a scimitar."

Thomas nodded, his inch long hair waving in the breeze.

"Sam. I was impressed by your speed yesterday. You caught me off guard, something that doesn't happen very often. As a Dimachaeri, you will make use of that speed. You are allowed only a loincloth and a round helm of your choice when you go into battle, but you wield two swords. You will depend on speed to keep you out of harms way."

"Zacharel. As Auctorati, I assume you've had some swords training before this. You knew how to grip it properly, at least. With your height and strength, you shall fight as an Andabates. Fully armored, only one sword, your only weak points are your joints. Unfortunately for you, Dimachaeri's like Sam will run circles around you because of their speed. You'll never be able to catch them."

Kieu turned and stared at Rian for a long moment. At last he sighed and shrugged, his long golden hair sliding over his shoulders like a cloak.

"Perhaps I'm going senile. Wouldn't be surprising with all the blows to the head I've taken. However, I'm going to make you one of the light skirmisher types Rian. With your height and breadth, you'd be more suited to Andabates, but I think you have the speed it takes."

He paced around, thinking for a few moments. Finally he turned back and nodded. "Rian, you shall train as a Secutor. You'll fight virtually naked – Just a loin cloth, some leather bands on your wrist and elbows, and a round helm. However, you are allowed a large oval or rectangle shield – I'd recommend oval for single combat and rectangle when it's team oriented. You also have a sword... probably a long sword for your height."

Rian wasn't sure how to take this. No armor? But he was allowed a shield, and Kieu said that Rian would be fast enough. Rian trusted Kieu. He turned his focus back outwards, because Kieu was speaking again.

"Before any of you touch a sword, you have to go through the same thing every other gladiator of this Ludus has gone through. Take off your boots and give them to me."

The five of them looked back and forth, rather confused, but obeyed. Rian removed his boots, stood again, and handed the boots to Kieu. The ground was uncomfortably hot – soon Rian was dancing back and forth, from foot to foot, trying to keep them cool. Kieu watched them all with an amused, unsympathetic smile on his face.

"I had to endure this too, children. For the next month or so you are not allowed shoes. This will toughen your feet up, will build calluses, and will get them used to hot temperatures under them. You have to earn your boots back, just as you have to earn the right to a sword." Kieu grinned wolfishly, and something in his grin made Rian uncomfortable. There was an edge to the grin that had never been there before.

"That's where I come in." A light, lilting voice made the newly oathbound turn. A dark skinned woman, probably a mix of Carthaki and Bhazir stood behind them. She was dressed in tan linen breeches and a wraparound white top. Her black hair was pulled behind her in a braid, and she had soft features and large brown eyes. But even Rian could tell she was a deadly fighter. It was in the way she carried herself. She was confident, balanced, poised.

"And with that, I leave you in the capable hands of mistress Iras." Kieu whistled as he walked away, off towards the instructor's Quarters on the eastern wall.

Iras turned back to them. "What are you all staring at? We're starting your training." Her melodic voice turned stern, and Rian never questioned disobeying her, despite the fact she was only five feet three inches at the tallest. "Follow me! Move it, reds!"

Rian didn't have time to think – Iras had taken off. After the first hour, all he could do was focus on his breathing, which was coming in short, painful gasps. Now he realized why most new gladiators vomited up their lunches.

He did vomit his remaining breakfast around the second hour of strait running, but every time he tried to stop, a rough hand would grab him, haul him forward and say, "I didn't tell you to stop yet, Red. Now RUN."

By now everything was automatic – his legs continued to move on their own accord. Of the other five Nadeia seemed the least fazed, though her skin did have a slight green tinge. Rian's feet were burning and bloody. He could feel blisters on them. His arms and legs were cramping, his side was a burning slash up into his neck, and sweat streamed over his body. Finally, when Rian was stumbling, almost ready to collapse, the woman called a halt. They had arrived back at the arena.

"Sit." Thomas and Rian collapsed. Sam and Zacharel sat rather ungracefully as well. Only Nadeia was able to lower herself down carefully. Iras was not unfazed – she was breathing heavily, and sweat stained her white linen shirt. But she was certainly much better off than the rest of them.

"Now, then. That will start us off every morning from now until you earn your boots. You will get a break, and then you will train in hand-to-hand combat. After hand-to-hand combat, you will eat a light lunch. Then you'll come back here and spar with one another. After that, you will eat dinner. Then you are allowed two hours of free time, or you may go to sleep, whatever you choose. For the first few weeks at least, I'd recommend going to sleep. You'll need it."

Now she stood, and removed her linen top. Rian gaped, but underneath she had on a sleeveless tan tunic that matched her breeches. For the next two hours, she taught the five of them the beginnings of unarmed combat. She set Rian and Zacharel against each other because of their similar size, but nothing came of it. Both of them were too exhausted to even glare at one another.

The next three weeks were a haze of pain for Rian. He was barely able to pull his aching body out off of his palate every morning, and collapsed into it every night. Gradually, Rian began to notice a change in his body. By the middle of the second week he had stopped vomiting during their morning runs. By the end of the third, he had enough strength left during combat training to put force behind his punches. He and Zacharel were about even matched. Half the time he knocked Zacharel down in sparing, but an equal amount of time Rian ended up on his face in the dust.

Though he did not realize it, Rian's parents would hardly have recognized him. Where before there had been a boy of seventeen, still slightly gangly, there now stood a warrior. His muscles had developed bulk, and defined. His feet had toughened, callused over. His face lost all of its boyishness and took on the angles of adulthood.

After another three weeks, as the days began to shorten again, he had advanced well enough to land one blow in every three against Iras. She was impressed, and let him know it too. Zacharel only won one out of four bouts against Rian now.

After two more weeks, when autumn was well on its way, Iras declared the five had earned their boots again. She handed them out, and Rian slipped them on, pride overwhelming him. This was the first time in his life that he had worked this hard to achieve something. But when he slipped the boots on, they felt awkward and trap like.

Rian pulled them off and turned to Iras. "M'am. If it pleases yew, I'd as soon not wear th' boots. They don't feel right on mah feet anymore."

Iras regarded him for a moment, then took the boots from his hands. With a knife that appeared from her wrist, she cut a strip from the leather of the top of a boot. Handing it back to him, she said, "I don't blame you for not wanting to wear them after what training you've gone through. Wear this instead, on your wrist. T'will show that your bear feet are a choice and not a requirement."

With that, she turned her back on them, calling over her shoulder, "I'll see you lot later, to teach you advanced blade work once you've gotten the basics down. For now I've another new cartload to terrify."

A/N: "Reds" is a term used to identify those that have not yet earned their boots. The soles of their feet are red and burned from the hot sand, giving the newly Oathbound their names.

Pansgod- Rian is about 17 years old in the story.

YellowPost-itNote - Thank you for the review! I'm glad you like the story. There's some good ones in here and it feels good to be told my story is in that class.

Tandydwr – Hehe, I'll continue then.