142
" I gave him a sideways look and vowed in that moment I would learn—and not only learn, but master—the gladiatorial style of the dimachaerus: the double-sword-wielding warrior who fought with a blade in each hand. Mael had been the Cantii equivalent of a dimachaerus, an absolute genius with two blades. Growing up, he had developed a series of drills for himself. For two years he’d tried to get me to fight two-handed with him, but I’d been happy with my sword and shield and spear. And the other young Cantii warriors soon tired of getting themselves beaten black and blue fighting against him. So, mostly, he fought the weathered stump of an ancient, lightning-blasted oak. Mael used it as a practice post, and the old forest guardian bore the scars of its encounters with his blades graciously. I thought about all the times I’d sat in the grass watching him practice, and wondered if I could reproduce those patterns from memory. There was only one way to find out. "
― Lesley Livingston , The Valiant (The Valiant, #1)
144
" Thalestris stepped forward to join my sister, her deep voice ringing out with the words that we, as initiates, were compelled to echo back. “Uri . . . vinciri . . . verberari . . . ferroque necari.” I will endure to be burned . . . to be bound . . . to be beaten . . . and to be killed by the sword. It was the sacred gladiatorial oath, sworn by men and women alike when they joined the ranks—willingly or no—of the gladiatoria. “I don’t really care to endure any of that,” Elka muttered, “given a choice.” But there was no choice. That was the whole point. “Simple words. Simple promises,” Sorcha said as Thalestris’s voice echoed to silence. “This oath is the oath we all swear. Not to a god, or a master, or even to the Ludus Achillea . . . but to our sisters who stand here with us. Our sisters. This is the oath that binds us all, one to one, all to all, so that we are no longer free. We belong to each other. We are bound to each other. In swearing to each other, we free ourselves from the outside world, from the world of men, from those who would seek to bind us to Fate and that which would make us slaves. We sacrifice our liberty so that, ultimately, we can be truly free. "
― Lesley Livingston , The Valiant (The Valiant, #1)
146
" And more than one lad here tonight seems to have noticed finally that you are a girl.” I rolled my eyes and reached for a platter of honeyed oatcakes and apples, too nervous to eat much. I shifted on the low bench seat near my father’s left hand and wondered where Mael had gotten to. Clota might have been joking, but in truth, I could almost feel the looks from all about the hall—glances that traced the lines of my limbs, the planes of my face. But when I sought them out, there was only one person who was bold enough to return my gaze. And it was not Maelgwyn Ironhand but his brother, Aeddan. I grinned and raised my hand in greeting, but Aeddan did not smile back. Instead, he just raised his cup to me. "
― Lesley Livingston , The Valiant (The Valiant, #1)
150
" On the ship, I saw something in you.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “And that was?” “The absolute need to fight. To be free. That’s something I can understand.” I wasn’t so sure he could. “Some years ago,” he continued, “there was a revolt. A gang of slaves—gladiators, in fact—rose up and challenged the might of the Republic. They fought the legions for a very long time, and they very nearly won. But it took one man—a man named Spartacus—to ignite the spark that turned to flame. I’ve always admired him, even though he went against everything I’m supposed to fight for as a soldier of Rome. I thought, on the ship, that I saw that same kind of ember glowing in your eyes. I suppose I wanted to see if it was still there. "
― Lesley Livingston , The Valiant (The Valiant, #1)
153
" So here we were, racing at breakneck speed across the floor of the Forgotten Vale. Because at the break of dawn that morning, I, Fallon, youngest daughter of Virico the king, chief of the Cantii tribe of Prydain, would turn seventeen years old. Old enough to be made a member of my father’s war band, just like my sister before me. And I was determined that before that moment came, I would master the Morrigan’s Flight. "
― Lesley Livingston , The Valiant (The Valiant, #1)
159
" By barely measurable increments, the days became less grueling. And through it all, Elka was there to lift my spirits with her blunt humor and fierce friendship. As much as I hoped that I would make it all the way to the oath ceremony, I hoped just as fervently that she would too. “You’re getting good, little fox,” Elka said as she ambled over, wiping the sweat from her tall brow with the back of one arm. “You could almost pass for a Varini, the way you fight.” I grinned at her. “And you could almost pass for a Cantii.” I nodded at the spear she held in one fist. She’d been practicing her throwing all morning, and she had a sharp eye. “Only we throw our spears from the decks of racing chariots. "
― Lesley Livingston , The Valiant (The Valiant, #1)