Ascension

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. However, rumors abounded among the servants of the gods for weeks that one had been found, which meant that the time for ascension had come. Dusk began to set upon the small sandy village nestled at the base of the mountains and rocky caverns. The mountain caves were where those who sought the cavern deities blessing of immortality, went to die. Awaiting such an audience, Bahadur lounged upon his bedding of animal skin blankets. The rugs beneath him raised the bed off the sand. Low fires and incense burned within his tent, creating a heated musk which circled around him. Sweat glistened on Bahadur’s body in the low light, highlighting his bronzed skin, heavily muscled frame, and chest- length beard.

One of the women given to him for the evening began to stir, repositioning herself to bury her head into his chest as he lay with the two, raven haired beauties. He did not know their names, nor what would happen to them beyond tonight. This scene was the same every evening; the goddess Bastet would bring him two women to lie with to pass on his seed. There was no telling how many children he fathered; every enclave was kept to their own encampments and breeding was strictly dictated by the gods’ whims.

He stroked the hair of one of the two sleeping women; the only clothing either of them wore were the bandages on their wrists: a blood tithe for the gods to keep the demons at bay. The atmosphere was relaxed, but merely a calm before the storm that was to come. He soaked in the moment and reveled in his imminent ascension. He was known as Bahadur The Bull, and all would know his name across the lands from the sunrise to the sunset.

The tent flap rustled and opened, revealing the demonic escort sent to retrieve him. It was a gaunt faced creature, only up to Bahadur’s shoulder in height and who hid itself under rags of robes, only exposing the face. The haunting yellowing eyes and missing nose was unsightly, and his white pasty skin that never saw the light of day made him all the more grotesque. The women resting upon Bahadur gave a start; quickly, they scurried to the corner and covered their nakedness as best they could. Bahadur was unphased and went to retrieve his shendyt skirt, his necklace made from thick ropes of silver, and his khopesh blade. Without a word, he followed the demon from his tent to the mouth of the caverns that held the assembly of gods.

It had been fifteen seasons since the gods last performed a rite of ascension. His own father had been the first and only to be truly ascended. He was given the name Anhur and blessed as a son of Ra himself and bound to eternally hunt the Nile valleys at night. Bahadur had seen the gods’ thirst for blood firsthand, a terrifying sight for those unaccustomed to battle. Their physical strength did not frighten him though, he was named “The Bull” for a reason, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think his strength could hold against the gods’ magics.

Bahadur watched his escort and guide as he was led into the cavern. These demons were little more than those who feared death and somehow found favor among the gods. Bahadur found their existences to be pitiful. He wanted to snap the creature in two like the pathetic twig it was. In his trials leading to ascension, he had been pitted against a similar demon, and smiled inwardly at the remembrance of the sound of its bones being crushed. Bahadur’s dislike for the creatures was a reflection of his more intense hatred for the gods themselves. Instead of fleeing like his brother with just a promise to sting the gods, Bahadur stayed to bide his time. Bahadur was no fool, though, only a god would be able to slay another god. He would ascend and become chief among them, in time using the skull of Ra himself as his chalice to drink the blood of those who opposed him.

The caverns were nearly pitch black, save for the distant intermittent torches that lit up the pathways inside. Entrance to the gods’ lair was strictly forbidden, and even those who were invited inside rarely came back. The ones who did return either never spoke of what they witnessed or raved with madness until descended upon by a demon of the night. Bahadur knew the significance; this place would either become his home or his tomb, and there could be no other outcome.

Finally, the demon led Bahadur into a pitted chamber reminiscent of the arenas used outside by the enclaves. This one was completely enclosed by rock, save for a few portals in the stone where the gods stood in attendance above. There were several bone fragments interspersed in the sand, partial remains of skulls and ribs lined the floor. The rock faces near the entrance appeared to be covered in soot, despite the lack of torches.

Ra stood at the center above him in the portals, the chief among the assembly. Contrary to being the sun himself, his skin was pale as if he had never bore witness to his own brilliance. The old god was aged, slightly balding and his hair was speckled like that of an osprey. To his left was Thoth, his adviser, with pale brown skin, his features were sharp and pointed like that of a bird. To his right stood Neith, a striking and fierce woman. It was difficult to believe that she was the mother of Ra by her features and as the servants rumored. Beside Thoth stood both Bastet and Hathor. Beautiful, radiant, and every bit as deadly as the cobra headdresses they wore. Bastet had a feline grace to her, while Hathor wore an outfit that emphasized her impressive curves.

Bahadur wasted no time, moving to the center of the chamber before the gods above. He was not known as a patient man. “I am Bahadur!” he boomed into the chamber. “Chief among your warriors, and second to none in battle. I have come to claim ascension and to join my father before me as one who hunts the night!”

Ra visibly smiled, his venomous fangs protruding slightly from his lips. “We shall see, Bahadur. Your destiny is yours to claim… should you survive,” he chuckled. Glancing at Neith he continued, “We are all here to bear witness to the strength of your father’s seed.”

Bahadur responded immediately with two loud chest thumps in acknowledgment.

An awkward pause and silence descended as if they were in expectation of something more.

“Daemoc, stop toiling!” Thoth called out, seemingly to no one and as if embarrassed.

It wasn’t until that moment that Bahadur saw the eyes staring at him in the corner across the arena. The way the eyes reflected the light of the flames were like that of a lion’s. Bahadur had a brief moment of disappointment, he had already slain lions in trial, surely, they would have something more worthy of him, where was his dragon? Then he watched as the eyes rose, meeting his own from the shadows.

From out of the darkness emerged a boy, barely into his manhood. He was tall for his age, equal in height to Bahadur, who was a hands breadth taller than all the other warriors in his enclave. His hair was unkempt and long, draping below his shoulders. The patchy hair on his cheeks was only beginning to develop, hardly covering the dirt and soot that covered his face. The boy was lanky, like most of his age and of those who were just now learning how to wield the Khopesh. However, there was a definite confidence in his stride as he walked to meet Bahadur; he glided as a serpent would. Now in full view of the light, Bahadur could see that this child was not without muscle. The boy’s skin was tight to him, like a warrior made to march without food for several days. There was an intense focus in his eyes that accompanied such hunger. Looking at the boy… there was something familiar about him. He could not place to which enclave he belonged, but he could swear he had seen this face somewhere once before. The momentary strangeness gone; Bahadur’s ire began to rise.

“My trial is to slay a starving child?” Bahadur scoffed to the assembly. Turning to the boy he continued, “It matters not; I will make sure they sing of your sacrifice, boy.”

The boy, Daemoc, visibly smiled, and it made Bahadur’s blood turn cold. It wasn’t the teeth, which were a mix of the elongated fangs of the gods and the flat teeth of a man. Bahadur could tell the smile was the boy’s involuntary reaction, and it prompted Bahadur’s hackles to rise. It was the grin of someone who knew their opponent was overconfident and acting like a fool. Bahadur himself had given that smile to the boastful young mavericks who thought themselves capable of besting “The Bull.” His faith was momentarily shaken, his body screamed at him for caution. With godship just within his reach, Bahadur had come too far to fail now.

“Hold nothing back,” Ra’s voice echoed into the arena. “Prove that you are worthy of the life you have been bestowed and have a place among the most high!”

Ra’s voice and encouragement steeled Bahadur’s resolve, and he flourished his Khopesh as a sign of his readiness. Daemoc just flexed his hands, popping the joints in his fingers, sending ripples up the muscles of his arms as they stretched. Bahadur wondered why he was unarmed, but when the light glinted off his hands, he could see the unmistakable outline of claws that were nearly a knuckles breadth beyond his fingertips. Bahadur decided that a serpent was the wrong way to describe him, perhaps he really was the dragon the servants whispered about.

“The Bull who slays the Dragon,”… Bahadur hoped this battle would be worthy of such a song.

The two combatants began to circle each other slowly. There were no shields or armor during the trials, one mistake could quickly spell death for those who were careless. The boy was slightly crouched, but he kept his arms at his sides. Bahadur wondered if perhaps the boy was the one who was overconfident. Bahadur switched his stance to a more aggressive posture and led with his blade out in front of him. He shifted his feet and angled his blade in small feints to test the boy’s reaction time. Bahadur’s blade was longer and heavier than most similarly constructed weapons to accommodate his size and he used that to his advantage. Bahadur thrust the blade forward, an unconventional movement for the sickle curved blade meant for chopping. The boy simply twisted his body and lowered his center of gravity, allowing for the blade to glide past his head and bounded to the side. The child was extremely nimble. Bahadur was impressed, but the time for play was over. He intensified his attacks, leading his opponent to over commit himself in his agility. One always had to return to their center of gravity or abandon their footing, Bahadur pressed relentlessly for his opening. Finally, the boy bent backwards to avoid a thrust. Bahadur spun and used his khopesh for the use it was intended and swung to relieve the boy of his head.

Bahadur then witnessed time seem to slow. The khopesh crept towards the childs neck, then suddenly an invisible force yanked him forward towards the empty void where his opponent should have been. The boy simply wasn’t there anymore. Bahadur instinctively spun, looking for his opponent. He found him standing on the other side of the arena behind him, crouched in the darkness again, those eyes floating upon nothing transfixed on him. So, the boy knew magics as well.

It wasn’t the first time he had witnessed this ability. In their raids upon the neighboring villages Bahadur had witnessed their demon commander perform a similar feat. The warriors in his enclave had nicknamed it the shadow step, where the demon seemed to slip from one shadow to the next in a blink of the eye. This was his first time experiencing the invisible force pull on him, though. It was as if the boy had tunneled through the space between without actually moving. Bahadur was still unimpressed, magic had to be like anything else. Performing these tricks would inevitably take their toll.

He decided to teach the boy why he was named “The Bull” among his peers. Bahadur charged the floating eyes; he would pin him into a corner and force him to choose to fight or die tired. Again, the eyes blinked out of existence at the last second. Time had slowed again, this time the invisible force pulled him as he was mid swing and his blade clattered hard into the stone where the boy’s head should have been. Bahadur spun, using the rock face to protect his back to locate his opponent. He didn’t get the luxury this time of searching for his opponent, the space tunneling dragon appeared directly to his right, feeling that invisible pull draw him in as Daemoc’s claws went directly for Bahadur’s throat. Bahadur knew it had to be a feint, he swung to deflect and block with his arm as his own vice grips went to clutch on the scrawny boy. Time slowed, but Bahadur was ready. His back exposed as an irresistible target. Bahadur swung his blade backwards as the boy once again blinked from existence. To Bahadur’s chagrin, his blade once again crashed hard into the stone wall, the boy was nowhere to be seen.

He scanned the cave walls for his opponent once more and did not immediately find the familiar floating eyes. Continuing to search with his back to the wall, Bahadur looked upwards and spotted his opponent clinging to the rock face above like a lizard. The light from the torches below illuminated the boy’s body and his smile was unmistakable. It was a child’s smile, the kind where they are just so proud to have duped you. Bahadur looked at his khopesh, the bronze blade was completely bent, chipped, and rolled making it nothing more than a club. He became incensed and threw the weapon at the eyes, watching the boy drop effortlessly to the sand below as his blade clattered loudly in the background.

The boy was clever, likely too clever for his own good. The Bull was going to crush this child’s head beneath his feet like a bull smashes a slithering serpent for making a fool of him in front of the gods like this. Bahadur charged towards the boy, intent on exhausting Daemoc until he could finally place a single hand upon him and get him in his grips. This time the child did not disappear. Instead, Daemoc leapt aside and raked a claw deep into Bahadur’s thigh, tearing into the fabric of his shendyt. The fabric caused the boy’s hand to drag, and Bahadur used the opportunity to spin and twist on his now bloodied leg, catching the boy squarely in the ribs with the heel of his foot. The boy crashed to the sand, tumbling away after catching Bahadur’s full strength. To Daemoc’s credit, he stood, slowly, baring his fangs in silent pain as he winced. Bahadur had felt the crunch and the entire assembly heard the snap; he had broken the boys rib bone.

“Stop playing with your food!” Neith hissed into the pit, visibly upset and angry. Bahadur was momentarily shocked and confused by the sudden outburst. Daemoc simply rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed, like a child with his parent. Bahadur’s spirit began to waver. Why was the God who had protected his brethren on the battlefield, disciplining this abomination during his ascension? Daemoc was not going to give him time to ponder that question though, he stretched his lanky frame and readied himself for another round.

Bahadur stood as well, though limping slightly. If that strike had been any further in on the thigh he would have already bled out. The child was well versed in where to strike a man to see him dead. Even so, the angle he leapt to rake his thigh and had gone into his hamstring. There would be no more charging by The Bull in this battle; instead, he would have to corner and trample him like the serpent he emulated.

This time Daemoc was the one to approach, likely feeling the time had come to finish his prey. He paced forward slowly, the two beginning to circle each other looking for an opening. Bahadur intentionally stumbled, to make it seem as if the leg wound was to blame. The boy struck immediately, coiling to flank behind him again. Bahadur felt that once he’d seen one predator, he’d seen them all; if he opened himself to weakness they could not resist the opportunity. The predator always goes for the weakest point from behind until they are sure of a kill and strike for the throat. Bahadur dropped himself to the sand and his hand caught purchase on the boy’s arm, using his strength to yank him like a child’s shabti toy.

Instead of being able to clutch the child and crush him, Daemoc twisted his body in an unnatural fashion without regard for his arm. There was a loud pop as the boy’s arm broke, but to Bahadur’s panic the child seemed to have planned this move sacrificing his limb to use the momentum and rake his free claw into The Bull’s arm. He shredded the meat off the arm from wrist to bicep, leaving the flesh in ribbons and exposing bone. The flesh no longer obeyed him; Bahadur lost grip of the boy and the child tumbled across the arena in a heap once more.

Bahadur had never been grievously wounded before; he knew this would kill him if he did not act quickly though. The battle was not over, he needed to put fire to the wound immediately before he lost too much blood and lost consciousness. Limping to the wall Bahadur took a torch and spared himself no pain as he seared his flesh closed. The smell of burning flesh seemed to awaken the hunger in Daemoc, and it showed in his eyes. Bahadur tore a piece of his shendyt and bound the torch to his now maimed and smoldering arm. Undoing the heavy ropes of silver around his neck, Bahadur would not go out without a fight.

Bahadur tried using the torch to keep the demonic child at bay, along with the silver chains, but the boy seemed to care very little about either item in his arms. He flitted side to side like a locust, readying one last pounce. Fatigue was beginning to set in, so Bahadur would have only one shot at this. The child was beginning to act more like a starving animal than the cunning predator he once exhibited. Bahadur intentionally stumbled once more, knowing it’d illicit a reaction. True to form, the child attacked from the side opposite the fire perceiving it naturally as the larger threat. Bahadur was ready, and let the boy tackle him. The boy began to instantly convulse, Bahadur had slipped the thick ropes of silver around the child’s neck like a noose. To Bahadur’s surprise, the skin where the metal touched was instantly inflamed and swelling. Bahadur held on to the ropes in angered desperation. Daemoc began clawing at Bahadur’s arms and skull, but Bahadur did not relent. He would prevail in his trial and receive the God’s gift of ascension; The Bull would slay the dragon after all. The light went out in one of his eyes as he felt a claw dig into his skull, yet he did not relent.

“Disappointing,” Ra said flatly into the chamber below. Bahadur was instantly pulled out of his death struggle to find out what had caused such displeasure.

“Anhur’s bloodline is still the correct path, my Lord,” Bastet interjected.

“Remember, Daemoc is the first of his kind,” Thoth added. “Perhaps it was too soon for this trial.”

So. That was it. This ascension never was for him. Bahadur glanced down at the still struggling child, his neck swollen to the point where his breathing was barely a rattle. Blood seeped from his eyes and nose. The muscles in Bahadur’s arms gave up, the will to fight gone. As the disillusions of the trial faded, the vague vision of his father’s face overlayed the boy’s and it was now apparent why he had recognized Daemoc. He loosened his grip on the ropes of silver and Daemoc, his brother, clawed his way away from the one who nearly ended him.

Daemoc began coughing violently, his airways beginning to open back up. He coughed and sneezed repeatedly, blowing and hacking blood onto the ground. The severity of his allergic reaction made the sounds rushing from Daemoc seem unnatural.

Ra began laughing hysterically into the chamber from above, “A’pep!” Clearly amused by the dying sounds of the child. “A much more fitting name.”

Bahadur had never been one for compassion, the battlefield was not a place for such sentiments. Judging the boys age and the familiarity to his facial features, he could guess what the outcome was for his father and his “ascension.” This child was likely the last testament to Anhur’s memory. Bahadur felt pity for the boy now.

Looking at the child, Bahadur was not met with a grateful gaze. The child's eyes burned with rage as he continued on hands and knees coughing blood onto the sand below. Bahadur was no longer concerned with the sham of a trial and approached his brother with his hand outstretched. Daemoc recoiled violently; Bahadur then noticed the silver ropes where still wrapped around his hand. Daemoc backpedaled, then began shoving handfuls of sand into his mouth. The boy’s mind must have broken being so near death.

Fires from the surrounding torches in the arena began to be drawn towards Daemoc, as if he were a nexus for all things flame. Bahadur’s own torch began to burn in greater intensity as the air in the cavern was converging on the child. Daemoc’s eyes were locked onto Bahadur’s, no longer that of a wounded animal, but the very human stare of calculated and burning hatred. Entranced by the view before him, Bahadur watched as fire began to coalesce in the boy’s hand, encapsulated by an invisible sphere as it spun violently in his still working hand.

“Daemoc! Desist!” Thoth called out from above.

“Control him,” Ra said, not without a small sense of urgency in his voice.

Hathor stood with a large grin on her face, baring her fangs at the thrill of the show being put on below her. Bastet simply stood watching, observing. Neith was equal looks of both concern and pride.

Daemoc then seemed to compress the ball of flame and ingested it, immediately spewing a stream of red-hot liquid from his mouth as if he had just vomited the slag of a sword. His eyes never broke contact with Bahadur’s as his mouth began seething flame. Bahadur now saw the purpose of the sand the boy had ingested, it now coated the boy’s mouth in molten glass, highlighting his fangs in a red glow as the sand coating his mouth protected him from the violently spinning flame he ingested. Daemoc began stalking forward towards Bahadur. For the first time in his life, Bahadur felt dread. Utter helplessness. This was no longer a bull fighting a serpentine dragon anymore. The Bull was about to feel the burning alter of his sacrifice.

“Restrain him!” Ra snapped, Thoth beginning to panic and weave his hands before him. Sand began enveloping the boy’s feet, sinking him slowly. Daemoc responded with his free hand by ingesting yet another handful of sand and spewed it onto the ground before him, solidifying it in a single breath. Daemoc continued his slow stalk towards Bahadur, crossing his new molten glass floor.

The air suddenly began to whip more violently in the arena, again coalescing around the child. This time it was clear that Daemoc was not the source, and the wind began driving him down to one knee. The boy broke his eye contact with Bahadur for the first time to change his gaze upward, his rage clearly having full control of his actions. Daemoc spewed fire into the sand once more, a continuous stream that was being whipped by the air from above, creating a rampart of glass around him. No longer encumbered by the onslaught of wind, Daemoc launched a stream of molten liquid directly at Ra. The wind below subsided, and Bahadur was no longer being driven to one knee as his remaining eye focused on the carnage above. It was all Ra could do to keep the molten blast from melting the assembly, each of the gods stood behind him for protection. It was clear, though, that it was not the boy’s intention to slay the gods. Instead, the portal they had been viewing from unencumbered was now covered in a thick black stained glass.

Daemoc’s eyes once again met Bahadur’s. Fatigued at having lost so much blood and enduring the carnage before him, all Bahadur could do was smile as he witnessed his brother’s strength as Bahadur suddenly erupted into flame. The fires were nearly immediately extinguished as Bahadur hit the sand. In a hungered craze, Daemoc leapt upon the fallen body; he plunged his molten fangs into the heavily muscled trapezoid. The boy’s body coiled around the smoldering corpse, pinning him like an ankh as he fed.

The glass above shattered, revealing Ra and the assembly’s consternation. Ra’s face was painted visiably with anger, while Thoth seemed panicked at the sudden display. Bastet seemed to glare in appreciation at the carnage she just witnessed, while Hathor, again, had a smile of glee at the feast happening below. Neith stood stoically observing the aftermath.

“We will need to choose a suitable replacement among his lineage, father,” Bastet said, vexed. “Bahadur was of ideal genetic stock; I hope this experiment was worth it.”

Ra simply stood staring below, detestation evident in his gaze. “As clumsy as this battle was, we have no choice but to proceed. See to it that you double his meditative studies, Thoth. Neith, you are to find a place for him among one of the enclaves and see to his martial training. Bastet, see to it that we test the boy’s potency. The queen wants her prize, and we will not present to her an undisciplined child.” With that Ra and his entourage followed behind him out of the cavern, leaving Neith alone to observe. Daemoc no longer donned the molten fangs and had shed the glass mold, completely lost in his frenzied feeding.

“You truly are your father’s son, my clever, clever boy,” she cooed into the pit, proud of the raw display of power the assembly had just witnessed. “Our time to mock the daylight has finally arrived.”