Birth of a Warrior by Michael Ford Page B

ground on his back, jarring his spine and knocking his breath out of him. The pain in his rib threatened to make him black out.Demaratos was already sitting at his feet, and had Lysander’s leg threaded between his own. He gripped Lysander’s foot with his hand. Lysander realised he was trying to apply the lock that Diokles had taught them.
    â€˜I think this might be the end for you, Lysander,’ came Agesilaus’ voice.
    Lysander had to do something – fast. He kicked at Demaratos’s head, but he couldn’t free himself. Demaratos found his grip and tightened the lock. Pain shot through Lysander’s knee and ankle as Demaratos twisted his foot. There was only one chance left … With his free leg, Lysander aimed a kick at Demaratos’s shoulder – the one he’d dislocated on the night of the Festival Games. His heel crunched home.
    â€˜Helot dog!’ Demaratos cried. Lysander felt his grip loosen. It was just enough. He pulled the foot free and aimed another kick, this time at Demaratos’s face. It connected with his chin. Demaratos’s jaw gave a crunching sound and he collapsed backwards. He was unconscious. Lysander stood over him. Blood trickled from Demaratos’s mouth.
    What have I done?
thought Lysander.
    A slow clapping noise came from behind. Agesilaus was climbing down from his rock.
    â€˜I’m impressed, Lysander,’ he said. ‘You exploited Demaratos’s weakness. That sort of determination and cunning will stand you in good stead on the battlefield. My tutor used to tell me: all is not lost until the blood runs cold in a Spartan’s veins.’ He tossed a piece of thedried meat at Lysander’s feet. Lysander didn’t care about the dust. He sank to his knees and grabbed the pork, stuffing it into his mouth. The salty tang tasted delicious – Lysander had never known something could taste so good. At first, he swallowed without chewing, but the meat would not last long and he knew he would soon be hungry again. He forced himself to savour the last precious bites.
    Agesilaus bent over Demaratos and gave him a sharp slap to the side of the head. The sound echoed away across the hills. Demaratos groaned and opened his eyes groggily. When he saw Lysander with the food, the disappointment was written in his eyes. Lysander swallowed, and his throat burned. He felt his face flush with shame.
    â€˜Here,’ he said, tearing off a piece of meat and holding it out to Demaratos. ‘Take this.’
    Demaratos stared in disbelief at the gift, but then snatched at the meat as though worried that Lysander might take back the offer.
    â€˜Thank you,’ he said hesitantly. The words clearly didn’t come easily to him. Agesilaus glared at the two of them.
    â€˜I was wrong about you, Lysander. You’re no Spartan, after all. Your heart is soft.’ He turned away in disgust, but Demaratos shared a secret smile with Lysander and Lysander found himself smiling back. He reached out a hand and helped Demaratos to his feet. For the first time since entering the barracks, Lysander andDemaratos stood eye-to-eye and neither of them turned away.
    â€˜I may have a soft heart,’ Lysander muttered as he gazed after the older boy, ‘but I have the sense to spy an enemy.’
    â€˜Me too,’ said Demaratos, flicking a glance at Agesilaus. ‘We would do well to watch each other’s backs.’
    Lysander hesitated, then nodded. Demaratos was right. The two of them would survive better as friends. They started to follow Agesilaus up the hill. Lysander’s mind was reeling.
Can I trust this boy?
he wondered. Lysander had no choice; he had to. But more than that – something had changed. Now, he wanted to.
    As they caught up with Agesilaus he turned and stopped them in their tracks. His lip curled in a sneer as he gazed at Lysander.
    â€˜So, boy, are you ready for your latest challenge?’
    â€˜I’m