He strode off, though to prepare what, Cade had no idea.
“Don’t you think it’s a coincidence that he knows how to use a sword?” Eric said, breaking his long silence. “It’s not exactly a common skill set.”
Cade realized Eric was right. He furrowed his brows.
“Then we’ve got you, almost an expert on Rome. Spex with his general knowledge. Now Yoshi with his sword skills.”
“And you?” Cade asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Eric said. “Maybe for my size—I was a linebacker after all. But don’t you think it’s strange?”
Cade sighed.
“I think we were chosen for a reason,” he said. “Maybe all of us know something useful.”
“So, they got us sent to the school?” Eric asked, twisting his hands. “You think they have that much power? That they went to all that trouble?”
Cade stared at his hands, thinking back on his false conviction. Was it possible that these “gods” had planted the laptops?
“Maybe,” was all Cade could say. “I am innocent.”
He paused.
“Could they have done it to you?”
For a moment, Eric didn’t reply. He stared into the rushing water of the waterfall.
“I know the rumors at school,” Eric said. “That I’m a murderer. The truth is … I am.”
Cade was speechless. Somehow, in getting to know the boy, he had convinced himself it was just a rumor. It seemed impossible a killer would be at school with them.
“I killed my best friend,” he said, and to Cade’s surprise, the boy’s eyes were shiny with tears. “I never spoke at school because … I didn’t want to make friends. I didn’t deserve them.”
“What happened?” Cade asked as gently as he could.
“We were celebrating winning the playoffs,” Eric said. “Best season of my life.”
Cade nodded, even as Eric’s voice cracked with emotion.
“We went out drinking. Stole a keg from my older brother, threw a rager in a friend’s house…”
Eric paused, then let out a long, shuddering breath.
“I made a choice. To drive. I don’t remember making it. I only remember leaving the party and waking up in the hospital. But it was me in the driver’s seat. And my best friend in the morgue.”
They remained silent for a while longer, a lone tear trickling down Eric’s face. Clearly, he had wanted to tell someone about it for quite some time.
“After that, I started drinking more,” Eric said. “Lashing out, letting my rage get the better of me. My parents thought I needed a change.”
Cade put an arm around Eric’s shoulders. Together they stared out at the waterfall, letting the mist cover them like a cool balm. There was so much to do, and they would need to start soon. But there was time for this.
There was time.
CHAPTER
42
Yoshi had been busy. He had wandered around the tree stumps, collecting smaller pieces of lumber that the Romans must have discarded. Now, he had cobbled together several of these logs into two makeshift mannequins, held up and together by stakes in the ground and a rat’s nest of loose twine he had taken from the storage room.
Quintus was off preparing his slinging lesson, but the rest of them lined up beside the waterfall, watching as Yoshi paced back and forth in front of them. He held his sword loosely in his hand, looking at them as he rubbed his chin.
“Today, I will not teach you to block any attacks,” Yoshi said, half to himself and half to them.
“Why not?” Gobbler whined.
“I haven’t been trained in how to block a rabid dog or a…” He flashed Amber a grin. “What did you call them? Piranha-chimps?”
“I think that was Cade’s description,” Amber laughed.
“Isn’t that what they look like?” Cade groaned. “Tell me that’s not accurate.”
Amber nodded grudgingly.
“They don’t look like ‘vipers’ though.”
“That’s because—” Cade began, but Yoshi stopped him with a raised hand.
“What I will teach you is how to hold a blade,” Yoshi continued after taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “And how to swing it.”
He turned to the side and held up his sword so they could see his grip.
“See how the hands don’t touch each other,” Yoshi said. “But instead the dominant hand holds the upper half of the handle, while the weaker hand holds the bottom. Your thumbs must never be on top of the hilt—only on the sides.”
The group followed his example, extending the swords in front of them. Scott gave his blade a flourish as he did so, and Cade stepped away, wary of losing an eye. Yoshi caught his expression and grinned.
“Spread out,” Yoshi called. “Let’s not do the vipers’ job for them.”
They did so, and Yoshi now held the blade up, so that the sword was outstretched in front of him at 45 degrees, the point just below head height, his arms almost fully extended.
“You must keep some distance from your opponent,” Yoshi said. “Our reach is our advantage. A viper must come close enough to touch you, while we can strike before they do—the farther away the beast is kept, the harder its work will be.”
Again they followed his lead, and now the blade felt far heavier in Cade’s hand. He was sweating already.
“Now, the first strike, and the simplest. It’s called men.”
Yoshi lifted the blade above his head and chopped down, stepping forward as he did so.
“Don’t hesitate in your blow. Commit, or don’t do it. There’s no in-between,” Yoshi said. “Step forward as you strike; close the distance with both the blade and your body, while keeping out of their range.”
In unison, the group moved forward, bringing their blades down. Scott swung his so hard, it buried itself in the dirt. He chuckled and shuffled his feet as they looked at him.
“I’m more used to a baseball bat, you know?”
Yoshi had them repeat the move several times, adjusting their grips and how far they stepped. In particular, they all seemed to have trouble with how far back they swung the sword above their head before striking, and stopping the swing before their swords reached the ground. They were quick learners, and Yoshi was a good teacher. Soon, even Scott had the hang of it.
“Now, the diagonal downward cut,” Yoshi said. “We call it kesa-giri, or monk’s robe.”
He stopped at their puzzled expressions.
“Because the cut follows the line of a monk’s robe, down and across the chest,” Yoshi explained, demonstrating the cut with his last syllable. “I would advise that you use this move when you can, instead of the men cut. It is less likely to trap your sword, or break it, in the skull.”
Together, they followed his lead. It was much like the previous cut, but with a slight angle to it, entering where Cade envisioned the viper’s shoulder might be and exiting toward the opposite hip. It was hard to do; even though the vipers were as large as humans, they were often hunched over or crouched, meaning that they had to aim lower than a swordsman typically would.
Yoshi nodded with approval as most of them got it right the first time, though he made them alternate between going top left to bottom right and vice versa. This time, it was Eric who was slower on the uptake, finding it hard to maneuver his far-longer sword. Cade caught Grace eyeing the Hotarumaru blade jealously. Of all the group, she was the only other one who might be able to wield it, matching Eric’s considerable height and strength.
“Okay, say you’ve committed to your men or kesa-giri cut,” Yoshi said. “And say you’ve missed, or only injured the beast. What do you do? Spex, please demonstrate.”
Spex immediately stepped forward, cutting down, stopping his blade a foot from the ground. Swiftly, he raised the blade once more for a second attempt.
“See how he’s left open while he raises the blade,” Yoshi said, smiling. “This is when we do the kiriage, the diagonal upward
cut. It is the hardest cut for a beginner, especially when recovering from a downward cut.”
Yoshi imitated Spex, slicing down with a powerful grunt. But instead of stopping the blade, he allowed it to swing down and past him before he reversed his blade and swept it up, following the same path he had swung down on. Then his blade was reversed and positioned in the air once more, just as he had started.
“In the same time it took Spex to cut once and ready himself for a second strike, I completed two. Now you try.”
This technique took the longest to master. Cade struggled to reverse his grip, for to do so, he had to cross his arms at the bottom of the downward swing. Still, they eventually managed it, though Cade could hardly imagine himself doing it in battle with a snarling viper in front of him.
Finally Yoshi taught them the simple do, a horizontal slice that could be reversed, much in the same way as the kiriage. When they were finished, Yoshi said, “That’s the teaching part done. Any more, and it will be too much to remember. I only hope it’s enough.”
“Thank you, Yoshi,” Cade said, and there were a chorus of mumbled thanks. “Let’s practice a bit more, then Quintus will teach us how to sling stones, and we’ll be done for the day. The rest of the preparations can be made tomorrow.”
“You know,” Gobbler said, “maybe we should focus on the sword stuff, have the girls learn the stone slinging.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Are you kidding me?” Amber demanded, rounding on Gobbler. “Why?”
“Well, we’re stronger, right?” Gobbler said.
Grace cleared her throat, crossing her muscled arms.
Gobbler hesitated. “Um, maybe not her.”
Cade shook his head in disgust, unsure if this was misplaced chivalry or downright sexism.
“Gobbler, we’ll need every—”
But Amber cut him off with a glare.
“All right, then,” she said. “Let’s see who’s stronger.”
Gobbler laughed.
“What, you wanna arm wrestle?”
Amber shook her head, a sly grin on her face. She strode forward to stand next to Yoshi, her blade in hand.
“Everyone hold your sword out straight,” she said, extending her arm, the weapon’s tip pointed directly in front of her.
The girls immediately did so, and Cade had a sneaking suspicion that they had done this before, with their hockey sticks. Regardless, the boys followed their example. Gobbler was the last to obey, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.
“First one to drop is weakest,” she said, holding the blade unwaveringly ahead of her. “They’ll tire fastest. Give up earliest, swing less. Right, Yoshi?”
Yoshi was grinning.
“That’s right, Amber,” he said.
He wasn’t taking part in the game, and now he strode forward, tapping swords up and down the line with his own when they began to droop.
Cade looked over to Gobbler. His arm had the most meat on it, and Cade had seen him use his weight to his advantage before, barreling forward to crush other kids against the wall or floor. But now, it worked against him.
They stood there in the blazing sun for another few minutes. Cade’s body ached all over, more because of the beatings it had taken than the exercise, but his month of hard workouts had prepared him well. He was proud to see that he was faring better than most.
In contrast, Gobbler was now soaked with perspiration, shaking his head to rid his nose of the droplets that hung there. His arm shook and shook. Finally, his face beet red, eyes bloodshot with effort, he let it fall.
“Fancy that,” Amber said, turning to point her sword at him. “Maybe we should have you on sling-stone duty. Or you could be the water boy, bring us drinks when the real fighters get parched.”
“You’ve made your point,” Gobbler growled.
One by one, more swords dropped. It seemed to Cade most of the boys had only been waiting for Gobbler to go first, letting their arms fall with relieved groans. The girls, on the other hand, were still going strong. Soon it was only Cade, Eric, and the girls left.
Bea went next, and Cade saw a flash of annoyance on Amber’s face. Then Eric let out a long groan and dropped his sword. Cade’s arm had almost lost all feeling, and slowly, ever so slowly, his sword tip drooped to the ground.
Grace and Trix dropped theirs moments later, leaving Amber undefeated, a grin on her face. To make her point, she swished it twice through the air before burying it in the ground.
“We play hockey,” she said. “Every evening and most weekends. So don’t talk to me about strength.”
Grace leaned over to Cade.
“You don’t poke mama bear,” she whispered.
Cade grinned at Amber. Mama bear indeed.
CHAPTER
43
The last of the afternoon had been spent taking turns chopping at the wooden targets that Yoshi had made. It was a satisfying exercise, if a tiring one. Yoshi had explained that the vipers’ bodies would be far softer and easier to cut, but it was good to practice with a target to aim for, rather than swinging at the air.
Buoyed by their apparent success, their jubilance was cut short as Quintus led them to the wall. Now they surveyed the killing fields, the bone-littered canyon of flat, muddy earth, bordered by two curving cliffs. It was as long as four football field and half as wide. At the very end, the great glowing barrier remained, sealing it from the desert. And behind it, a hundred monstrous beasts sat patiently, watching with eyes like black pits.
Beside him, Cade could hear Spex whispering under his breath.
“As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”
“Psalms?” Cade asked, thinking back to the long stints in chapel at his old school.
“Coolio, ‘Gangsta’s Paradise.’” Spex grinned at him. “What can I say? I like old-school rap.”
“Oh, right.” Cade grinned back.
Still, the valley of the shadow of death was an apt description. The bones of a thousand different creatures must have been scattered throughout, and if the vipers were not still waiting at the canyon’s end, Cade might well have gone to inspect them to see what form of enemy they would face. But there was no need now—he knew what was coming. In less than two days, at least a hundred of the things would be unleashed on them.
Whatever those things were. It was all still a mystery. Not prehistoric creatures from history. Then what? Mutants? Mythical creatures? Demons? It was strange, but at times his desire to understand the truth of this strange world distracted him from his desire to save his own planet. With each clue he had unraveled, the mystery of this place only seemed to get deeper. But now was not the time for such contemplations.
The monsters sat patiently, staring at them through the translucent force field. Cade was sure they were unintelligent, savage creatures, but he still felt a twinge of worry that his crew would be giving away their strategy by practicing here. It was too late now though. The sun was already making its way toward the horizon.
There was another mystery, one made all the more obvious as he looked at the timer.
01:01:47:51
01:01:47:50
01:01:47:49
It seemed to Cade that the days were passing in close to twenty-four-hour increments.
The coincidence of that seemed extraordinary to him. Although, so did everything else. Was it possible that this world had been designed to mirror Earth? Were the “gods” truly that powerful?
On his other side, Quintus cleared his throat, stirring Cade from his thoughts. The boy mounted the parapet, balancing there so they could all see. It was Quintus’s job to demonstrate—Cade had already explained the basic principles of slinging for him, having read about them in his own studies of Roman warfare.
Luckily for the contenders, the storeroom had held plenty of rope, though it was somewhat ragged and moldy. Quintus had gone to the trouble of making a sling for each of them. And that was not all he had been up to while they
were sword training.
Out in the valley, Quintus had created three piles of bones, marking out distances, though how far or for what purpose they served, Cade had no clue. Atop of each, he had placed what looked to be a viper’s skull—eerily similar to human skulls but with jaws full of needle teeth, and wide, gaping eye sockets.
The legionary took up his sling and placed one of the lead weights from the storeroom into the leather pouch at its center. It was a weapon so old, it predated archery, its earliest instances used by Paleolithic shepherds to ward off hungry wolves. The same weapon David had used to kill Goliath. Simple. Deadly.
Cade looked at the sling. A rope with a leather strap in the center, a finger loop on one end and a plain knot on the other. Quintus let the weapon dangle, his finger in the loop, the knotted end clutched in his palm. Then he whipped it in a circle around his head, releasing the rope at the apex of his throw. The rope unfurled, hurling the lead bullet, then snapped taut as it caught on his finger. The projectile moved so fast that Cade couldn’t see it, then he saw a tuft of earth burst, the stone skipping along the ground halfway down the canyon. It looked like it had missed the second closest bone pile by a hair’s breadth.
Swiftly, Quintus caught the loose end, dropped another weight into the leather and repeated the movement. There was a veritable thrum as the bullet tore through the air. This time, it cracked home, smashing into the very nearest pile. A direct hit.
The viper skull shattered, needle teeth flying like splinters. The legionary whooped, throwing his hands in the air. He turned to the others, who clapped with amazement.
“Holy cow,” Jim shouted. “These things can do some damage!”
But Quintus wasn’t done. Now he dropped a third stone in, a look of grim determination on his face. He whipped the sling around his head and let out a grunt of exertion, sending the projectile high into the air. Cade lost track of the small black dot, but it was clear where it hit when the force field flickered, a crackle rippling from the impact site at its center.
Cade gaped at the sight. He had heard that slingers could throw their stones even farther than archers could shoot their arrows, and now he saw the proof of it. Quintus had thrown it the length of the canyon, as far as four football fields, end to end.
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