Christopher Buckner - Swords of Rome

Out from the dust and clamoring of bodies Gaius saw him, the only man among this enemy army he had been searching for, Calfax.

The former gladiator seemed to notice Gaius at the same time. They were both still on their horses, less than fifty paces from one another. For just a moment their eyes locked, and then Gaius roared as he encouraged his horse to charge.

Calfax soon did the same as the two men galloped through the fighting that was taking place all around them, and readied to face the other, picking up where they had left off.

As Gaius neared the man, he had faced only once before, that night, five years prior, just days after the battle of Cannae, he could see the horrors in his mind’s eye that Calfax had overseen in his camp — the murdered, and tortured Roman captives whom he had tried to save. Those images had forever stayed with him, haunting his nights, pushing him to the brink of insanity at times. He swore some nights, as he lay awake in his bed that he could still smell and taste the cooked human flesh of his countrymen. What Calfax had done was inhuman. His hatred for everything Roman boiled over into the rage that had sustained the old man for decades. When he was finally given the chance to break the bonds of his slavery, he did not seek freedom, but revenge for the injustice that his Roman captives had done to him for more years than Gaius had been alive.

He knew without a doubt Antony had died at Calfax hands — the man wore the medallion that had become the symbol of two boy’s brotherhood — a lifelong promise that they would always be there for one another, fight and defend the other from anything, man or monster. Gaius wanted that broken half of the medallion back more than anything, and he was just seconds away from rejoining the two pieces.

When he was within range, Gaius threw himself forward, off of his horse and right at Calfax, who had no time to react as the younger man’s body hit him with all the force and speed that Gaius had been traveling before his daring leap of faith.

The two men fell to the ground. Gaius hit hard, landing on his side and rolled several more feet before he finally stopped.

The hard earth beneath him did nothing to cushion his fall, but his armor had saved him from any serious injury beyond the gash to his head as his helmet was knocked free.

The old gladiator fell onto his back and rolled once before he stopped.

As Calfax stood to his feet, it was painfully clear that he had broken several ribs on his right side, but despite the pain, he stood his ground and reacted quickly as Gaius charged at him once he was back on his feet.

Gaius’ blows came savagely. Years of built-up rage poured out of him as he struck at the old gladiator time and time again. He forwent any form and any practiced training, and just attacked with all the force his younger body could bring.

Calfax, with decade’s worth of experience expertly dodged or blocked Gaius’ savage beating, but the younger Roman was, for the moment, too quick for him to counter against.

The two men covered several meters in a matter of seconds since the first blow had been struck. Both ignored the battle that was happening all around them. Neither man cared at this moment which side was winning the battle even though both knew what should happen if one faction should faultier and collapse.

The world was just them, which was just as Calfax wanted — this was his arena — man to man with one possible outcome.

Gaius charged again, swinging high, hoping that the tip of his finely crafted sword, the very sword that had once belonged to Valerius, would contact Calfax’s throat. However, the experienced warrior dodged the oncoming attack with ease, and then quickly struck low.

Gaius felt it; a fast and painful sensation as the tip of Calfax’s slightly longer sword sliced right across his lower thigh.

Instantly, he felt the weight on that leg gave way, but he forced himself to counter balance and remain standing. Calfax, however, had a clean shot if he took it. Gaius’ defenses were down for a fraction of a second, yet the old gladiator did not attack. He instead stood back and allowed Gaius to regain his footing and level his defense.

Calfax attacked this time. Gaius tried to hold his ground but the older man was surprisingly faster, stronger and now enraged with the memories of what Rome had done to him long ago.

Calfax cut into Gaius’ sword arm. The blade sliced deeply into his biceps, which splattered blood across the already soaked battlefield.

Gaius had no time to even scream before another savage attack hit him — this time Calfax’s blade cut across the side of his neck. He had only managed to turn just enough that the blade didn’t tear more than an inch into his flesh, but still, the damage was done.

“Rome made me the best — a better fighter than I ever was. And for that, I thank you. For it has given me the means to slaughter your kind for years now.”

Gaius couldn’t lift his right arm as it dangled down to his side; his fingers just barely gripping the hilt of his sword as he back stepped, trying to put some distance between, he and Calfax, who advanced slowly on him.

When Calfax attacked again, seeing that Gaius was all but done for, his sword found flesh two more time, and on the third attack, even as Gaius’ blood continued to flow out from his numerous wounds, Calfax slammed the butt-end of his sword up against the back of his skull.

Gaius slumped forward, falling to his knees, but still strong enough that he didn’t drop completely to the ground.

Calfax circled him, as he did not get up — did not seem capable of getting up as he bled and breathed heavily — his eyes staring up at the superior warrior as Calfax stopped before him and looked down at the young Roman, who had challenged him.

“You, young one, represent everything that I hate about your people — what you have done to me. You may win this war, but you will not stop me from fulfilling my destiny. I will at no time stop until I see your city and its people burnt from this earth and blown to the wind, never to be remembered.”

The image of Julia flashed across his mind as Calfax said his last words. He swore long ago to protect her from the monsters of the world. And while that promise had been made by a boy who dreamt of myths and legends, Gaius had found that monster, and he was very real.

He failed to live up to his promise.

Unable to move or raise his weapon to defend himself, Gaius was going to give in. He sat where he had falling, on both his knees before Calfax, but somehow, Gaius found what little strength he had left, and spoke.

“I pity you, gladiator. I’m sorry for what we did to you.” His words were barely audible, but Calfax seemed to understand them good enough as his expression changed suddenly to confusion, and then pure rage.

“I am sorry for everything we did to you.”

Calfax stared at Gaius with a dumbfounded expression on his face, as his mouth closed and his eyes seemed to widen.

For a moment, Gaius saw the old man for who he was, what had happened to him, and what he had been forced to endure. He seemed ancient; a warrior from another era when men lived with honor and dignity.

He could see through Calfax and knew that he had once been a man very much like himself — a man who had loved someone as much as he loved Julia. However, that man was gone now. He had died the day his wife and children were taken away from him. He was something else now; a product of Rome’s own dark soul.

“And I forgive you,” Gaius finished.

Then, that small moment had passed. Calfax’s anger boiled over as he leered down at Gaius and cried out with a bellowing voice, “I do not want your pity, Roman! I just want you to die!”