By now, Cato and the other instructors were coming toward the one-sided fight. The men all stood around and Dean noticed that there were a lot of smirks on the faces around him. Apparently, Philo had pissed a lot of people off. Dean knew his type, a blowhard and a bully. He picked on the wrong man this time. When Cato came up to the pair, he watched for a long moment. His face was devoid of any emotion, but there was a small lift on the side of his mouth and it twitched, as though he wanted to laugh.
Cato turned and walked over to a water bucket and picked it up. Walking back over, he upended the water and drenched Marco and nearly drowned the prostrate Philo. Marco stopped, stood and stepped back, his face a stone mask, the rage simmering behind his dark eyes. Dean could now see Philo, whose face looked like bloody hamburger. There was a tooth stuck to his forehead and Dean looked at Marco’s hands, that were relaxed at his side. He walked over to Marco and patted the man on the shoulder, then picked a tooth off of Marco’s knuckles and handed it to him and grinned.
That had been three weeks ago and Philo was still out of commission, minus four teeth, a broken nose and fractured jaw. They saw him from time to time in the chow hall, eating bowls of soft foods. Dean laughed at the memory and his opponent in front of him looked at him closely.
Dean brought his attention back to fighting and he hammered away at the man before him. He didn’t remember his name. He was the man who had tried to intervene with Marco and Philo. He had a rat face with bulging eyes. He always stank like shit and Dean wondered about his hygienic habits. Dean went at him viciously and drove the man back. It made him furious since Dean was shorter than he was. The man cursed savagely and tried to attack, but Dean neatly stepped out of the way.
Besides learning the language, Thad was also teaching them curses. Sometimes the curses didn’t make sense, but when you used one, the response was as expected and swift. Thad had also been teaching them Tae Kwon Do in the evenings. All had agreed that they wanted some kind of edge over their opponents. There might come a day when it could mean the difference between life and death. They only practiced for an hour or so, before the light faded into night. They were all exhausted by the end of the day, so martial arts training didn’t last nearly as long as they needed it to. But they were progressing and sometimes used it when they sparred with their partners.
Dean did a jump snap kick that he was perfecting and knocked the small shield from his partner’s hand. The man’s face suffused bright red and he snarled angrily and went to pick up his shield.
“Why don’t you go fuck a goat,” he snarled.
“Sure, just tell me your mother’s name, and I will,” Dean said and grinned widely. The man froze and his eyes grew enormous and his mouth moved. Then his face turned purple and he screamed something unintelligible and Dean heard a few of the men around him snigger. The man went wild and launched himself at Dean. Dean stepped back and did an open palm thrust to the man’s solar plexus. The man’s feet shot out in front of him and he dropped to the ground. His face reflected shock and his mouth opened and closed, trying to take a breath. Men stopped what they were doing and walked over, several laughing and pointing at the downed man. There was no compassion here in the training fields nor out in the arena, Dean was sure. He stood, hands on hips waiting for the man to catch his breath. Panic now filling the man’s face, his eyes wide and rolling around.
Cato walked over and looked at the downed man and then his eyes slid sideways to Dean, who shrugged and grinned. Cato shook his head and turned and walked away. Dean reached down and grasped the man’s hand and jerked him to his feet and then pounded the man on the back. There was an immediate and loud intake of air, as the man seemed to drink in the air around him. When he got his breath back, he eyed Dean and perceived no immediate threat and went to get his weapons.
“Fucker,” the man whispered and Dean laughed softly and went to take up his place again, ready to fight.
Θ
Zaza brought her sword down on Etta’s shield. Etta was on the ground and the people above her in the stands were going wild. She had put Etta down to the ground in a coordinated and rehearsed move. They did this, though not frequently, to the pleasure of the men. They wore nothing under their short tunics. Today, one of her breasts was exposed. She didn’t like it because there was a chance of injury, but it wasn’t up to her and she had no choice. She jumped out of the way as Etta swung the sword. It wasn’t sharp like the men’s weapons, still, she could be injured all the same.
Etta scrambled up and both women crossed swords and the sound filled the air. Shouts and catcalls rained down on them. They were good at what they did, the audience had to believe there was
