The Call of the Spartan: Part 1

Crossing the Line

The day was warm and comfortable.  A light breeze gently blew, stirring the dried grass and leaves, making them dance across the fields and hills.  The sky was clear and bright and would have inspired a day of imagination and wonder if those gathered today were here for any other reason than why they were.  There would be no time for adolescent frivolity today.  No time to smell the roses and who would want to.  Today they would smell of sweat and blood and... is that fear?  Or courage?  The line between the two is thin.

"Why are you here?" the Master of Games shouted over the murmuring of the crowd.  Faces turned toward the voice, some with trepidation in their eyes, others with a glint of perverse pleasure, most with a resolved stoicism that masked the turmoil within.  "Why are you here?" the Master bellowed again.  "Is it for fame?  For glory?  For mud?  Or is it for something else, something more?"

He paused, building the drama and raising the expectations, mostly for himself, before continuing.

"Are you here to prove your worth, your mettle... to friends, to family... to yourselves?  Why are you here?  Maybe, at the end, you'll know... if you ever get there!"  He laughed, amusing himself with the unveiled threat of failure.  "Look around you, at your fellow..."  He paused again, surveying the throng of people before him, packed in shoulder to shoulder, bodies pressed against bodies, breathing as one.

"What should I call you," he asked, "you who have put your personal safety at bay, you who have chosen pain over pleasure, the dangers of the unknown over the safety of your couch... The Foolish?  The Unwise?  Our Dearly Departed?"  He chuckled again, "Or are you feeling aggressive today?  Yes.  That's it.  Look around you at your fellow Aggressives.  Welcome them.  Embrace them.  Today they are your family, your friends... your Team.  They have come here together to battle!  To conquer!  To survive and to overcome!  And, if they finish, for free beer and muddy hugs!

"So be ready, Aggressives!  Your time in the sun has come.  Whether you shine or burn is up to you.  Your path lies ahead and it is ripe with danger.  If you choose to stop now before you've begun, then do so and be judged.  Your team will think no less of you than you will of yourself.  The beer still awaits but it will taste of cowardice and shame.

"Who here among you wishes to quit?" the Master shouted.  The group of men and women, these Aggressives, looked to each other and, with a supporting smile, a comforting hand, an encouraging nod, made their decision.  What was brief uncertainty was now quiet resolve.  They turned back to the Master and answered him with silent, unwavering confidence.

"Then go!" the games master cried, "Run hard!  Stay strong!  Become glorious and above all else, be aggressive!  Go!" and with his final remark came the resounding boom of the cannon, signaling the beginning of the race, starting the beginning of the end.

The Aggressives surged forward up the steep incline, hearts pounding, muscles driving, lungs breathing deep the smells of salt and adrenaline, and entered the fabled Field of Obstacles...

(to be continued)