Four

For the second day in a row, Marcus found himself standing in the hot sun. The burning ball of fire was directly over his head, and no clouds were in sight. On either side of him were a dozen men just like himself, a Slave Seal branded onto their backs. They all held a single large rock in their arms and had been doing so since the sun crested over the horizon.

Franklin, the armored man he had met the night before, marched up and down in front of them with his hands clasped behind his back. He still wore his plate mail; Marcus had to wonder if he ever took it off. His face still held on to that indifferent look that seemed to stare through them, not at them. He had ordered them that morning to stand in a line and hold on to their stones.

That was it. That was the extent of their command.

It was simple enough, but for hours on end, it was nothing short of torturous. Marcus himself wasn’t having too bad of a time of it. Yes, the rock was heavy, and the sun brutal, but he still felt nearly as fresh as he had before he started. It was a little strange, to say the least, but ever since he awoke after finding that glowing stone, he had felt like his body was much, much stronger. He had to wonder what that stone was.

His fellow slaves, on the other hand, were barely hanging on at this point. Their bodies trembled, and sweat poured down their faces. Some of them had started to slouch under the weight of their stones, Franklin stopping every so often to order them to straighten up. This caused their faces to contort in agony as their seals activated, forcing their muscles to obey the command, all the while scorching their bodies with pain as punishment.

Eventually, the first of them collapsed. Naturally, it was the least physically fit of their group, a wiry man with a sunken chest and knobby knees that had been shaking fiercely for the last hour or so. He had lost consciousness before his body had crumpled to the soft sand below, but that didn’t stop his body from seizing as the seal activated. Marcus was only thankful that the man wasn’t awake to feel the agony his body must have been going through.

Franklin was quick to get to the man, canceling his original order. That command extinguished the crimson glow of the Slave Seal , sparing the man’s body from any further damage. Two attendants who had been standing silently by dragged the unconscious man back into the barracks, leaving a deep rut in the sand.

They continued to stand there in silence.

Another four men collapsed before the sun reached the opposite horizon, cutting their already small group down to seven. Franklin spoke only when canceling the orders for the men who had dropped into the sand; other than that, it was perfectly quiet—up until it wasn’t.

“Cancel my previous orders,” Franklin’s voice boomed just as the last rays of the sun disappeared. “All of you, you can relax.”

Seven distinct thuds echoed throughout the sandy courtyard, accompanied by just as many pained groans as the men fell to the ground. Marcus himself laid flat on his back, stretching his arms and rubbing his tired legs. He felt as if he could have gone longer, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sore.

“All of you, go get something to eat and get some rest,” Franklin said as he nodded towards the two attendants who scurried off to prepare the meals. “The real training starts tomorrow.”

“What ya’ mean?” One of the slaves said from his own little divot in the sand. “This ain’t right!”

A wave of murmured agreement washed over the rest of them, Marcus remained silent as he watched how this would play out. Franklin, who was on his way back to the barracks, stopped in his tracks. Not bothering to turn around, he replied to the grumbling man. “You are not to eat tonight, none of you. That is an order.”

Then he disappeared into the barracks.

“Way to fucking go…” Marcus growled as he got to his feet, glaring at the man who had opened his mouth. He was starving and was looking forward to the cold gruel that had been surely waiting for him inside. Now, he and the rest of them would go hungry, and the man to blame was splayed out in the sand in front of him.

“Shut it, ya big oaf!” The man retorted with a sneer on his face. He looked just as upset as the rest of them but would never take the blame for what he had done. “If ya know what’s good for ya! That goes for the rest of ya as well!”

Marcus pulled his leg back, ready to kick the man square in his unprotected ribs, then his seal activated and sent waves of fresh pain wracking his body. Apparently, they weren’t going to be able to teach the troublemaker a lesson.

“Damnit…” Marcus spat before stomping off back into the barracks, leaving the others behind. Just as he entered the building, the smell of freshly baked bread and roasting meat assaulted his senses, causing his stomach to twist and rumble. Franklin was sitting at a long table, enough food for a dozen men spread out before him. The armored man was stuffing his face with the delicious-looking food, and only paused long enough to give Marcus a smile.

Once again, before the sun ever thought about beginning its journey across the sky, Marcus found himself standing in the soft sand in a line with the other six slaves. Franklin stood before them with his hands clasped behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart. They hadn’t received any orders for the day, and Marcus had yet to see any large stones, so his hopes were high that today would be better than the last.

They had been fed a warm breakfast, so it was off to a good start, at least.

With a nod to the two attendants standing behind them, Franklin started the day. “Most of you already know how to wield a sword.” Marcus swallowed hard; he had no idea how to use a sword. He really hoped they wouldn’t have to fight someone; his inexperience would definitely get him killed. “Well, forget everything you think you know…” Oh, thank God.

“I will teach you swordplay from the ground up. Offensive, defensive, group tactics, and solo battles.” He paused as the attendants returned with iron swords, handing them out to each of the men standing in line. Marcus thought his was a little small for his frame, but then again, what did he know? “We will start with a basic stance for two-handed swords. Keep your feet shoulder-width apart… like this. Then, grip your sword with both hands, your dominant hand above the other. Keep the blade in the center of your body. This will allow you to react to your opponent’s movements more quickly.”

Marcus copied his movements the best he could. He was lucky that he hadn’t ordered them to do it because his seal would be killing him right now. His body just didn’t want to bend the way he needed it to. He knew he wasn’t the most flexible person in the world, but what the others were doing didn’t seem too difficult, but he couldn’t see the reason why it was for him.

“Once your stance is complete, you will execute a downward strike. You will do this until I tell you to stop.” There was the order Marcus had been waiting for. “Begin!”

It was a pretty open-ended order, so the seal on his back didn’t immediately activate. It only started to burn slightly if he took too long between swings. Marcus did the best he could, but he was still a prime target for Franklin as he walked up and down the line. “Shoulders back! Feet further apart!” He would bellow, Marcus’ muscles tightening slightly, pulling him into the correct position.

They continued like this until the sun beat down on them from directly overhead. Marcus’ hands and arms ached as his dull blade whistled through the air once again. He wondered if they would be out here all day, just like the day before. If that were the case, he would surely go insane.

“Stop!” Franklin yelled, some of the men instantly dropping their practice swords.

“You two! Pick those back up right now!” Franklin glared at the two men who had dropped their swords with eyes that could kill. “You never drop your weapon… EVER! You two get back into your stance and start over. The rest of you follow me.”

Marcus followed Franklin along with the other four men, walking by the two that had restarted swinging their swords. A smile found itself on his face when he saw that one of them was the man who had cost them their dinner the night before.

Seven straw-stuffed dummies stood in a line, much like the one they had all just been in. Franklin ordered them to each square off against one, getting back into the stances they had spent most of the day in. Thankfully, thick clouds decided to roll in, shrouding the sandy courtyard in much-needed shade.

“These will be your opponents for the rest of the day.” Franklin started, “Your goal is to defeat them with the strikes you have been practicing. It might seem like a simple task, but remember, nothing is what it seems. Especially an unknown enemy… Begin!”

Marcus stood there for a moment, mulling over the words Franklin had just said as he studied his straw-filled friend. It looked just like a plump scarecrow, nothing more. Was it going to come alive and attack him using some kind of magic? Marcus knew magic existed in this world; he had some unwanted experience with it himself, but there was still much he was ignorant of; anything was possible.

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Marcus looked and looked but couldn’t figure out the meaning behind his words. He knew he wasn’t the best at riddles and puzzles but had never thought himself stupid. Still, that didn’t stop the frustration from building up in his chest. He should probably just attack the dummy and figure out what it was as he went, but then what if the secret was fatal? They were slaves, and Marcus didn’t think Franklin would care much if a few of them died.

“Thwap, thwunk, snap!”

He turned his head to see the other men had attacked their opponents and the aftermath that followed. Only a few had managed to hang on to their weapons; those who had dropped them were in the process of being chewed out by the armored Franklin. Every one of the men was shaking out their hands or rubbing their arms, cursing as they did so.

Marcus examined the dummy closest to him that had been hit and saw that its skeleton was made of thick iron bars.

“What the hell…” Marcus let out a soft chuckle before gripping his practice sword tightly in his hands.

Bringing the sword up above his head, Marcus flexed his entire body and brought it down onto the dummy in front of him. He knew that he had no real skill in swordsmanship; maybe he would after many months of practice, but he knew one thing that trumped skill. Pure brute force. It wouldn’t matter if you blocked a blow with finesse and proficiency if you broke your arm in the process.

His sword hit the dummy right on the seam between its head and shoulder. He heard the snap before he felt the shock run up his arms. The thick wooden rod planting the dummy into the ground splintered into hundreds of jagged splinters as it was driven to the sandy ground. Its sawdust-filled head went sailing through the air, the straw-filling body exploded into a fibrous cloud of debris, and the iron bars making up its frame screamed in protest at their sudden rough treatment.

“It’s a sword, not a club!” Franklin yelled out as he jogged over from the end of the line. His eyes scanned the mess of straw and metal heaped onto the sand as he shook his head. “I can’t argue with results though… Give that thing to one of the attendants. You get the rest of the day to yourself.”

Marcus’s face split into a wide smile as he nodded toward Franklin. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “Thanks!”

On his way back to the barracks, ignoring the death glares from the other slaves watching him, he handed his twisted practice sword off to one of the attendants. Practically humming a jaunty tune as he did so, now he only needed to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his day.

The weeks went by, and Marcus fell into the rhythm of waking up before dawn and training all day. He had even started waking up before Franklin would sneak into their tiny barracks and start shouting at the top of his lungs. It made the day much better when one started it off by waking up on their own, not by having someone scream in their ear.

Marcus also quickly found out that if he was more proactive in his training, he was much more likely to be rewarded. Several more times, he was allowed the majority of the day off while the others were stuck training. Of course, there were times when another slave would be allowed time off for good behavior, but if this were back in high school, Marcus would definitely be the teacher’s pet.

More of the men dropped out over that time as well, their bodies not able to hold up to the continuous, Spartan training. They had just collapsed in the sand, one by one, only to be dragged off by the ever-silent attendants who always stood close by. Marcus and the others wondered where they were being taken to, but after the first man had mouthed off and with the punishment that followed, none of them were brave enough to ask.

One good thing that came from so many of them dropping off was the food. They were being fed much better now that only four of them remained. They had meat for breakfast and dinner, fresh vegetables, and soft bread. And they got to eat until they were full. Honestly, Marcus didn’t think the whole setup was too bad if he didn’t think about the Slave Seal branded onto his back.

“Today will be a little different,” Franklin said, marking the start of their day.

The courtyard looked the same as usual, the only difference being that the two attendants were nowhere to be seen. That didn’t worry Marcus too much. He had excelled at whatever had been thrown at him thus far and felt that whatever came next, he would be able to handle it just fine.

Marcus saw Franklin nod to something behind them and then heard a pair of shifting footsteps quickly approaching. The two attendants appeared, hauling a large chest between them. They plunked the wooden box in front of the first man, quickly opening it up.

“You each will be given a set of armor, along with a weapon. Enough supplies to last two weeks will also be handed out.” He motioned to the open chest that the attendants had opened, the gleaming steel plates smoldering in the pre-dawn light. “Your goal is to go out into the forest and bring back a trophy. It doesn’t matter what the trophy is. A rare herb, precious gems, monster parts… The one with the most valuable trophy will be rewarded, do you all understand?”

A long line of nodding replied to his words. “Good. Now, you will wait until everyone is equipped.”

The two attendants ferried out three more chests, placing them in front of each of them standing in line. Marcus’ chest was by far the biggest, having to hold armor that was nearly twice the size of the others. He had to wonder how much all of this cost. He had no idea the prices of things in this world, as he really hadn’t the opportunity to do much shopping, but from his untrained eye, could tell the armor wasn’t cheap.

As he dug through the chest at his feet, he quickly noticed something was missing. The others had all brandished their own longswords, their finely honed edges ready to cut through flesh and bone alike. His box contained no sword or weapon of any kind, and he couldn’t help but point that out to the waiting Franklin.

“Excuse me,” Marcus said, using his usual polite tone when dealing with the man. “My sword isn’t in here.”

Franklin looked over at him, a clear smirk on his face. “Just wait a moment. I got something special for you.”

Just as soon as he said that, one of the attendants came back over, grunting as he dropped a large warhammer onto the sand in front of him with a meaty thud . Its head was the size of a shoebox, with one side tapered to a point. A thick handle the length of his leg stuck up in the air, and when he wrapped his hand around it, he couldn’t help but appreciate the weight of it.

He felt like a kid on Christmas Eve when he picked it up and off the ground.

“Frankly, your swordsmanship is awful.”

Marcus’ burgeoning good mood was strangled in the cradle by Franklin’s words. He had thought he was doing a bang-up job during his training; at least, the amount of time off he earned had told him so.

“But you make up for it in sheer strength. Honestly, I’ve never seen someone with as much power and endurance as you. It’s incredible, really. Anyway, I thought it better to give you something more suited to your fighting style.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” Marcus said with an awkward grin. He couldn’t decide if Franklin was insulting him or not, but these ‘gifts’ got him thinking about what they were actually doing here, and he decided to use this as an excuse to ask. “So… what’s the point of all of this? I mean, what are you training us for?”

Franklin stared at him for a long moment, giving Marcus a blank look as he did so. “Alright, get your armor on and grab your packs. You need to get going within the hour.”

Marcus guessed he wouldn’t be uncovering that particular mystery today.

The armor Marcus was given fit snuggly against his body. It wasn’t the full plate like Franklin’s but a hybrid of hardened leather and smaller steel plates positioned over the more vital areas. It had enough flexibility that he could move around without any issues, and yet the weight of it told him he would be protected against most attacks.

During his first two weeks in this world, he had wandered the forest all by himself. Unarmed and almost completely naked, he had traveled close to a hundred miles without seeing anything more dangerous than those snot balls living in that bone-filled tower. He didn’t think there was really anything too dangerous living in the woods, but from the way Franklin was talking, he had assumed wrong.

It sounded like he was exceedingly lucky when he had first arrived.

“Well, where do you suppose we should head first?” Marcus asked the hammer slung over his shoulder. He hadn’t suffered isolation long enough to start talking to inanimate objects just yet, but he found his nerves settle slightly if he heard his own voice. “That way it is…”

He headed off directly away from the barracks he had been living in for the last several weeks, the other three men fanning out in different directions. Marcus had asked them if they had wanted to team up, at least for a little while, but none of them seemed too interested in the idea.

Their loss.

The forest was a familiar friend to him at this point, and now that he was actually prepared for his time here, he was a little excited. Or, it could have been the fact that for the next two weeks, he had a little bit of freedom. Either way, he was looking forward to whatever the forest had in store for him.