Birth of a Warrior by Michael Ford

out of his lungs and rattling his teeth. A cry of pain escaped Lysander, but somehow he managed to find a handhold, grabbing hold of a slither of rock. He gasped for air while his legs dangled uselessly. Looking up, Lysander realised he had fallen about twenty feet.
    â€˜Help me!’ he shouted, not caring that raw fear filled his voice. He heaved himself upwards, until his chest was level with the edge of the ledge, but he didn’t have the strength in his arms to pull himself any higher. He sank back, defeated. ‘Please! Somebody! Agesilaus!’
    Come on!
he told himself. An image flashed before his eyes: Agesilaus telling Sarpedon that he had died in the mountains, that he wasn’t tough enough to prove himself.
You’re not going to die here!
He took a deepbreath and felt strength pulse into his arms and hands. He let out a cry through gritted teeth and pulled with all his might. A fraction at a time, he dragged his body upwards, until he got an elbow on to the ledge. It was enough. His other elbow followed as he hauled his body over the edge. He lay on his back, breathing hard, his heart knocking in his chest. His ribs were sore to touch, and he hoped he hadn’t broken one of them. He put a hand to his cheek. The skin was grazed and already feeling bruised beneath. Other than that, only his fingertips, torn with trying to stop his descent, and his bloody knees and feet were evidence of how close death had been. Any further to the left, and the ledge would not have saved him. Above him, the eagle circled in the blue sky.
    Lysander waited for his breathing to return to normal. Then he climbed stiffly to his feet and began to pick the peppermint leaves, one by one.
    Lysander arrived back at the shelter to find Agesilaus sitting on a rock, chewing on a strip of dried meat.
    â€˜Your feet look sore,’ he smirked, throwing Lysander’s sandals at him. ‘This is delicious, by the way.’
    â€˜Where’s Demaratos?’ asked Lysander, bending to fasten the sandals on to his bloody and filthy feet. He couldn’t afford to use his water to wash them.
    â€˜I sent him to get firewood,’ said Agesilaus. ‘Here he comes now.’
    Demaratos emerged from the trees near theirshelter, walking slowly with a handful of sticks clutched to his chest. They clattered to the ground when he saw Lysander.
    â€˜You treacherous swine!’ he shouted. Demaratos came running at Lysander and tackled him in the middle with his shoulder, knocking him into the dirt. Then he pounded Lysander with tight fists, punches landing in Lysander’s face and on his chest. Lysander lowered his elbow to protect his ribs and tried to ward off the blows to his face with his other arm.
    â€˜How dare you keep food from us!’ shouted Demaratos. ‘I’ll tear you apart.’
    Lysander bucked and managed to throw Demaratos off. His enemy didn’t move.
He feels as weak as me
, thought Lysander.
    â€˜I was going to share it!’ he shouted back. ‘I was saving it for when we were desperate.’
    â€˜No, you weren’t,’ said Demaratos. ‘You would have eaten it all. You only care about yourself!’
    Lysander was too angry to say anything. Instead, he stood up slowly and fetched his sack from where it lay on the ground. He took out the peppermint leaves and threw them at Demaratos’s feet.
    â€˜If I only cared about myself,’ he shouted, ‘why have I just risked my life to bring you these?’ Demaratos looked at the leaves silently, and then at Lysander. ‘Kassandra tried to tell me you weren’t a vicious thug. But she was wrong.’
    Demaratos’s eyes fell to the ground.
    â€˜Chew them,’ said Lysander in disgust. ‘They’ll settle your stomach. I’ll go and get the rest of the firewood before the sun sets.’
    â€˜No, you won’t,’ said Agesilaus, swallowing a last mouthful of meat. ‘It’s