Two years of training.
Highborn: 50
Lowborn: 8
The lowborn trainees rested in their dorm room in a rare peaceful moment. They were down to eight trainees. Four males and four females.
Tesdis, one of their female trainees, spoke. “Instructor Pnatis told me that when The Strongest killed the sand monarch with a spear, he cut it open and found egg sacs. That sand monarch was female. When The Strongest told the Klave about this, they ordered him to remain silent. The Klave feared it might cause problems with the city's women if they learned that the great, fearsome Sand Monarch is female, and that the male of the species is much smaller and rather timid. The Strongest is concerned about this. Only the weak fear the truth.”
Egidan, the largest, strongest lowborn trainee, currently reclining on his cot, seemed unimpressed. “So the sand monarch is a female? I don't see how that affects us, since we're all going to die soon.” The question for the lowborn trainees was not whether they would die, but when and how.
Stigda, their one-eyed thief, looked up. “If the sand monarch is a female, it's what, a sand monarchess? A sand queen?”
“Is Assp a male?” Anda asked. “Assp is a god, does he/it even have a sex?”
The others laughed. “Just don't say anything to anyone, ever,” Egidan said. “Questioning the masculinity of The God of Strength? The Klave would burn you alive.”
“It seems a reasonable question,” Anda said, a little hurt.
“Could you imagine if the highborn trainees found out they were with The Order of the Sand Queen?” Egidan asked. “They'd soil their pretty highborn undergarments. That puts a smile on my face.”
More laughter.
Pnatis began their lesson with a familiar chant. “We are the children of Assp, God of Strength. Unlike false gods, Assp does not take prayers. Prayers are a weakness. Our god has no symbol, no shrines, no place of worship. These are forms of prayer, and therefore weakness. We worship our god by taking him into our hearts and driving weakness from our minds, souls, and bodies. If you live a life of strength and courage, Assp will be with you. If you cry and beg for his mercy, you will receive none.”
Anda tuned her out.
Two years of training continued.
“How do you like the stew?” The Strongest asked. “It's one of my special recipes, and I'm quite fond of it.”
The trainees looked at the horrible-tasting stew, then at each other. “Most Revered Strongest Instructor, it has an unusual flavor. Perhaps you can tell us what's in it?” Egidan asked.
“It's a secret recipe. Guess,” The Strongest replied.
“Sand monarch,” Anda said. “It came from a sand monarch.”
“An excellent guess,” The Strongest responded. “But what part of the sand monarch?”
Later, when The Strongest had left. “That was an excellent guess,” Egidan said with a smirk that revealed missing teeth. “I think you're right. This stew came out of the hind end of a sand monarch.”
The relief of being separated from their highborn rivals dissipated quickly as their training intensified, including brutal exercise, combat, hunting, and fighting monsters from the upper levels of the caverns. Though forbidden to use weapons in combat, they had to defend themselves against those who did. They grew better at tolerating their punishments, but the punishments intensified. The tunnel that threw hard balls at them, for example, now required them to face away from the balls, to somehow sense the balls coming at them from behind.
They sometimes saw the highborn trainees from a distance, and it was obvious they were much further along in their training than the lowborn, lifting heavier weights and killing much larger monsters than their lowborn counterparts.
***
Two and a half years of training.
Highborn: 50
Lowborn: 8
The Strongest looked down at Anda. “Am I strong?”
Why The Strongest would ask Anda such a question, he couldn't imagine. “With respect, Most Revered Strongest Instructor! You are the strongest man in this city, so of course you are strong.”
“No!” The Strongest moved in an instant, grabbing Anda by the throat and lifting him to eye height. “You licked my boots with your words, trainee. Answer the question!”
Anda struggled to breathe, knowing better than to show weakness. “With respect, Most Revered Strongest Instructor,” he choked out. “Strength is not something we weigh or measure. I believe strength is defined by our ability to hurt or protect others. You have more of this strength than any other person in our city.”
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The Strongest's grip relaxed slightly. “What of the highborn? They are strong from birth.”
“That does not make sense to me.”
“Am I strong?”
“With respect, Most Revered Strongest Instructor!” he gasped. “Without knowing the true nature of strength and how much strength is required to be strong, I cannot answer your question.”
“So you don't know.”
“That is correct.”
The Strongest dropped Anda to the ground. “Report for punishment.”
Anda had to know. “With respect, Most Revered Strongest Instructor! What is the answer to your question? Are you strong?”
“If you spoke to the Klave, as you spoke to me, you would be burnt alive. Fortunately, I didn't hear a word you said. You will request double punishment.”
Sometimes, Anda couldn't win.
***
Anda stood at attention.
“Why doesn't The Order use weapons, Anda?” Pnatis asked.
“Because you don't need them, Esteemed Teacher!” Anda said.
“Not quite.” She pulled back the sleeve of her robe, revealing a surprisingly normal-looking arm. She picked up a sword with her other arm and swung it at her exposed skin. The blade shattered against her arm, doing no damage to her skin that he could see.
“Our flesh is stronger than any weapon we can make.”
“Why are the highborn training with weapons if the truly strong don't need them?”
“The highborn are training with weapons because they're strong. You are forbidden from training with weapons because you're weak.”
“That makes no sense,” Anda protested.
“It doesn't make sense to you because you are looking at it wrong,” Pnatis responded. “Report for punishment.”
***
Three years of training.
Highborn: 50
Lowborn: 8
They were in the colony amphitheater, surrounded, as close as Anda could tell, by every able-bodied man, woman, and child in the city. He'd heard The Order had provided plentiful free food and drink to the city's lowborn to ensure that everyone who could, would be in the audience to see the lowborn lose the upcoming fight.
This was the fight in which the highborn would prove to the city and their God that they were worthy of joining The Order. Though the odds of the lowborn winning were so small as to be nonexistent, forfeiting the fight was not an option.
A pretty young singer had performed for the audience at the pre-fight show. A highborn announcer told the audience she would spend the night with the most valuable of the winning fighters. What the singer herself thought of this, Anda didn't know.
At the opposite end of the fighting arena were the highborn trainees, looking dashing in their new red uniforms. They bristled with swords and other weapons, as well as shields and armor. The lowborn had no weapons, no shields, and no armor, and they wore the same kind of plain gray uniform they'd worn since the beginning, three years before.
Because they were weak.
This contest was so unequal that even the other highborn were unimpressed. He'd heard they wanted to empty the prisons to create a more even match, but The Strongest had refused.
Anda's group was unarmed and outnumbered, 50 to 8. The highborn trainees even had their personal healer with them.
To make matters even worse, their instructors had fixed the numerical discrepancy by drafting/kidnapping 42 of the lowborn trainees' siblings and relatives, mostly young girls.
This meant he saw his older sister for the first time in three years. One side of his sister Stitka's face was red and swollen. “It was the Overseer who struck me,” she said. “He was bragging to his cronies about what the highborn trainees would do to my stupid, weak brother. I told him my little brother was a trainee of The Order and more of a man than he ever would be.”
“I'm sorry,” he said. It was a brother's job to protect his sister, and as usual, he was powerless to do anything.
“It's okay. It doesn't hurt.” But he could tell she was lying.
The way the highborn trainees were eyeing the girls, there was no question they would rape them while the city watched, possibly along with fourteen-year-old Anda himself. And because they were strong, no one could or would stop them.
The Strongest addressed the highborn trainees in a voice easily heard on the other side of the amphitheater. “To become an initiate and learn the secrets of our order, you must pass this test!” He tossed slave collars onto the ground in front of them. “There are fifty slave collars and fifty of you. You must each enslave one of your opponents. If your slave is dead, it will count against you, but you will still pass.”
“Yes, Strongest, it shall be done!” the fifty highborn trainees said as one.
On the other side of the arena, things were less pleasant.
“And this concludes your filthy joke,” Egidan spat on the ground in front of their instructor, Pnatis. “I hope you rot.”
With inhuman speed, Pnatis stepped forward and slapped Egidan's face hard enough to force him back. “Do you hear me laughing?” she said. “Today, you will prove yourselves by using my teachings as befits a member of The Order of the Sand Monarch.”
“Pnatis!” Anda spoke up, knowing he'd never get another chance to ask. “Which member of The Order selected us lowborn trainees? Who is responsible for our three years of torment?”
“Was it you?” Egidan asked.
“No, it was not me,” she responded. “An important individual believes you are worthy of being trained for our order. He selected you for training and believes in you.”
“He chose weak lowborn, knowing we would die,” snapped Anda, struggling to control his rage.
“You are wrong, trainee. He chose you and the others because he saw strength in you. Today, you must prove yourself in combat. Protect what is yours, or die trying. That is all that needs to be said, and all I will say.” With that, Pnatis turned her back on lowborn trainees and walked away, joining The Strongest on the other side of the arena.
The lowborn stared at each other. Anda felt as scared as the others looked. Egidan spat on the ground a second time. “That bafbam spawn said we're going to die. I say, let the highborn come to us. We know they will, because they want to take us alive. When they do, we make them pay. Do anything you can to hurt them. And remember, it's best to be a dead slave. If one of you gets captured and enslaved, I'll do my best to kill you, and I expect you to do the same for me.”
This was the most words Anda had heard their large companion string together since they'd met.
Before the fight began, The Strongest went to the podium. His loud voice amplified by the acoustic effect of the amphitheater. “I told the people of this city that Assp spoke to me. But I only gave you part of His message. Assp told me to train potential initiates to form a mighty army. But first, to burn the rot of weakness from this city!”
