Gauntlet Rite of Ascension

by Marcus Abshire

  “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “I’m not looking, I’m feeling.” He answered.

  I took a few deep breaths and forced my thoughts to focus. I closed my eyes and shut out the sounds of the environment, a bird in the tree, a small mouse hiding in the leaves, Abaddon’s breathing and heartbeat. I shut out the smells around me, the strong aroma of sap that oozed from the trees, the fresh perfume of pine from the leaves, the faint traces of car exhaust that still lingered on the slight breeze.

  I tapped into the Beast and channeled it to help me radiate my awareness outward, focusing it on the source of the power that thrummed in the air.

  I felt my senses zero in on the source and it drew me towards a non-descript part of the forest off to the side of the road. As I concentrated on it, it began to change. The thrumming took on a slightly different feel and became more concentrated and fast paced, and then it rolled off into the surrounding area in waves. Like the ripples in the water after dropping a rock into it. When the waves moved away, all that was left was still calm, the same as the rest of the forest.

  I opened my eyes and was stunned to find a turnoff from the main road into the forest. Laid out before me was a stone path, wide enough for a car and framed on each side by large trees laid out evenly along the road.

  I smiled broadly and turned to look at Abaddon. He kept his gaze forward, looking at the road before us.

  “The entrance to the Den.” He said with an air of ceremony.

  We got back in and drove along the paved road. The path continued straight and rose with the land. We made our way up to the top of the hill and my mouth fell open as I saw what awaited me.

  Reaching the summit allowed for an open view of what lay before me. The hill dropped and smoothed out into a large open valley. A wide river flowed through the middle of the valley and the Den was situated, not next to the river, but over the river. The Den was a massive stone structure. Built from the surrounding granite of the mountains its deep dark color blended in with the forest. My first impression was that it was a castle, but calling it just a castle didn’t do it justice. A more apt definition would be to call it a fortress.

  It was square in its shape, having four tall towers at each corner. The Den was three levels, one on top of the other and each higher level consisted of a smaller structure than the one below it, giving it a shape that best resembled the large stepped Mayan pyramids.

  On the top most level sat a small arena. It reminded me of a smaller version of the coliseum found in Greece. Bench seats surrounded the open area at the center of the space. They rose one row above the next in the same design as modern football stadiums. There was no mistaking what this place was. It was the gladiatorial arena.

  A deep fog lay at the bottom of the valley, covering the forest floor in a white ethereal covering, slowly shifting and moving with the slight breeze. Our S.U.V. easily parted the white blanket as we drove down towards my destiny.

  Our arrival was met with little fanfare. In fact, it was met with absolutely no fanfare.

  Abaddon pulled up to the side of the structure where a young man in a nice suit met us. Abaddon gave him the keys and received a slip of paper, just like a concierge. We got out and watched as he drove off and turned back towards the building, entering by a large bay door, disappearing.

  I turned to Abaddon, but he already knew my concern.

  “He is taking it to the Den garage where it will be inspected for anything threatening, like a bomb or other device. Our things will be fine.” He said.

  “Paranoid much?” I asked.

  “Remember, most of the Pack grew up in times and places that were rife with war and they have developed a healthy understanding of precaution.” He answered.

  “Your definition and my definition of healthy precaution must not see eye to eye.” I mumbled.

  I realized I was rambling because I was nervous, more so than I thought I would be.

  Abaddon looked at me and let the barest of smiles show on his face, knowing what I was going through.

  “C’mon, we have to announce your arrival.” He said.

  “I feel like the princess come to dance at the royal ball.” I joked.

  “That is a more accurate assessment than you may know.” Abaddon said.

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything.

  We entered the Den and I quickly realized this place was old. Not because it had cobwebs in the corners or dust an inch thick on the furniture. If anything, everything was too clean, too immaculate. The sense of age came from the rocks themselves. This place had been hand built by werewolves over hundreds of years and it held the aura of ancient strength.

  We walked down a large hallway that had a very deep and lush carpet. Every step felt like I was sinking into the floor. The walls were decorated with beautiful paintings and pieces of armor. The collection was an eclectic mix of old, outdated pieces to modern protection. On one wall I saw a medieval suit of armor, on the other a Japanese Samurai suit. The paintings and artwork also crossed the spectrum. I passed a framed section of animal hide that had ancient depictions of animals in the hunt, similar to drawings found in Australia on cave walls. Across from it hung a modern pop art piece that depicted an iconoclastic image repeated over and over only each one having slightly different colors and shading.

  We rarely passed anyone, but the few people I did see all held the same strong, wild aura associated with the Ascended. Most nodded to Abaddon in passing, showing him respect, while ignoring me. We wound our way through the Den, keeping to the hallways; we stopped at a large wooden door.

  “I don’t know who will be waiting for you to announce yourself. This is ceremonial and the Pack leader need not be in attendance. Word has already spread upon your arrival, so don’t be surprised if the hall is filled with some people interested in seeing you. Keep in mind, most don’t live here, they just visit to catch up with old friends or to gather and share information on Descended.” He said.

  I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves.

  “I’m ready.” I said.

  “Remember, I am your sponsor and I will do the talking unless I indicate otherwise.” He added.

  I nodded and he opened the door and strode up a wide set of stone steps, each one had a symbol inscribed on it in a different language. As I reached the top, I finally saw the one inscribed in English and wasn’t surprised at what it said. In swirling beautiful script the word “WILL” was carved into the hard rock step.

  I entered the second level behind Abaddon and saw him tense upon seeing what lay before him. I stepped up beside him and looked around. Almost the entire second level was an open hall. Placed at symmetrical intervals were large square stone pillars. Four wall sconces decorated the pillars, one for each side. The sconces lit up the hall enough to give it a dark, but cozy feel.

  My heightened senses picked out bundles on the floor here and there that moved with lazy abandon. Upon closer scrutiny I saw they were people engaged in different acts of intimacy covered in blankets. Some were just laying, holding each other in post coital bliss, while another group moaned in the throws of sweet sexual release.

  There were areas of large bench seating where food was laid out on the tables. Some if it looked as though it had already been torn into while other areas looked untouched. The smell of food and sex were strong. Abaddon growled deep in his throat at the state of the Hall. As we walked towards the center of the area we had to go around a group of writhing bodies. A woman looked at me as I passed, her body covered in a sheen of sweat that accentuated her curves. She smiled at me and I saw the look in her eyes of drugged detachment, her pupils dilated by her sexual arousal, the tips of her breasts stood out in clear detail as she arched her back in ecstasy. The intimacy of the acts they were committing gone, replaced by pure animal need and satisfaction.

  I turned my head, seeing nothing more from her than a desire to feel pleasure. It made me feel tainted, somehow.

>   I had to step over a large form who lay on the floor, snoring loudly, an empty bottle lay near his hand. The scent of alcohol permeated the air around him.

  There was a small group of people sitting at one of the tables, away from the others. It was a differing assortment of men and women. They sat in the Hall and kept their eyes averted from those on the floor. I could feel strong disdain coming from them at what they saw around them. One of them, a large red haired man, looked directly at me and nodded once.

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, so I gave him a quick nod back and we soon passed them. Abaddon led me to the center of the large Hall where an expansive area of the floor rose above the rest. It was maybe two feet higher than the surrounding surface and covered a circle fifty feet in diameter. A large throne occupied the center of the dais. It had a wide stone back with armrests that were also carved from stone. The design of the throne was simple, but strong.

  The throne itself wasn’t as interesting as who sat in it. I knew without being told that it was Vicktor. He looked at Abaddon, never once turning to me.

  Even sitting down, I could tell he was big. His frame was easily as large as Abaddons and his forearms showed the thickness of wielding something heavy and often. His hair was dark black and cut short in a modern style. He wore a dark suit that looked more appropriate in a courtroom or a board meeting than in this setting. His jacket was hanging on one side of the throne while on the other rested a large double bladed axe. His sleeves were rolled up and his tie was loosened. Deep green eyes stared at Abaddon with intelligence and at the same time boredom.

  On his right, slightly behind the throne, stood Jameson, his right arm wrapped in the silver chain that ended in his mace. He looked at me and smiled. It was all I could do to not rush the platform and wipe the smile off his face.

  He was flanked on the other side by a dark figure. The man stood a foot taller than me, but his frame showed a thinness that bordered on skeletal. He wore a dark brown robe whose hood covered his face. The only thing I could see from the shadowy depths were the occasional reflection of the light off his yellow eyes. He possessed neither the physical power of Vicktor, nor the wildness of Jameson. Instead, he radiated a different kind of power, one that was hard to pinpoint, but had the same tint of what I felt at the entrance and from the Altered. This man was a sorcerer and his talents lay in the arcane, not in the physical. I noted him as very dangerous and made a mental note to keep an eye out for him. He was the kind to go unnoticed until his knife plunges into your heart.

  Sitting in front of Vicktor, at his feet, were two women, each beautiful and barely clothed. They sat there in adoration of Vicktor, clearly as a statement of his control and meant to show dominance.

  Anger welled up in me. Not just because of seeing Jameson, or at the man who sent the bears after us, but at the way Vicktor ruled the Pack. It was clear that this Hall was a place for indulgence, a place where the animal nature of the Beast was allowed to be unleashed and encouraged. That was against everything the Pack stood for. The whole purpose of a strong Ascended was his mastery over the base emotions the Beast urged on us, it was in the control of those desires that gave us true strength.

  I had been here only a few minutes and I knew the corruption Vicktor allowed. My anger doubled along with my caution. Vicktor was dangerous and I needed to be on guard. This whole thing was not only meant to show how far he had defiled the Pack’s ways, but it was also an effort to distract me, keep me from being ready for when he made his move.

  Abaddon stopped in front of the raised platform and put an arm on my shoulder. He gripped it tightly, almost to the point of pain and tugged on it as he went down on one knee and bowed his head slightly. I took his cue and followed suite.

  “Greetings, Pack leader, I bring before you Eric Brightenham, son of Thomas Brightenham, former Pack leader, seeking entrance into the Pack by Rite of Ascension.” Abaddon said, while kneeling.

  “So, Thomas’ boy has come to us wanting to gain member status.” Vicktor said.

  Abaddon raised his head and stood up, allowing me to do the same.

  “It is a shame, is it not, that his father isn’t here to witness his son’s growth.” Vicktor said, keeping his eyes on Abaddon.

  I knew he was talking to me and his words fueled the anger that was already building within me.

  “A father should be at his son’s side in times like this, when he goes from a boy to a man. Don’t you think?” Vicktor added, looking up at Jameson.

  “He is ready, is he not? You don’t have a perfect track record when it comes to preparing young men for their Rites.” Vicktor said, staring hard at Abaddon.

  “He is prepared, my lord, he will succeed.” Abaddon said.

  I could hear the hate in his voice at having to show Vicktor even the smallest amount of respect.

  “That is all we can hope for, really. Be careful where you put your clothes, I hear there are shoe thieves around.” Vicktor said.

  He turned to me for the first time and with a small knowing smile, winked at me.

  My blood boiled and my anger reached the breaking point. I knew he was taunting me. I didn’t care. I was an instant from lashing out at him when Abaddon’s hand clamped down on my shoulder and the pain cut through my rage and I was able to control myself.

  Vicktor watched us with gleeful intensity. He seemed disappointed when it was apparent that I wasn’t going to attack and dismissed us after we didn’t react in the manner he wanted.

  “His trial begins in ten days, at the height of the full moon. Your petition for his Rite is accepted.” Vicktor said offhandedly.

  Abaddon bowed once again and turned away from Vicktor. We strode with purpose out of the chamber, passing a very curious group of onlookers on our way out.

  Chapter 26

  I followed Abaddon down the steps and through the same door we came in. I closed the door behind me as Abaddon slammed me into the wall. His face was an inch from mine.

  “Do you think this is a game? Do you think you will get a second chance if you screw up?” He said, anger blazing in his eyes.

  “I did as you asked, I said nothing.” I argued back.

  He pushed me harder against the wall.

  “You came an inch from attacking him. He wanted you to! This is not training anymore; if you make a mistake it will kill you.”

  He let go and turned, storming off.

  “Where are you going? “ I asked.

  “Away. You are safe here, assuming you can behave like an adult. I have some things to do, as do you.” He said, never looking back.

  I stood there, stinging from his rebuke, deserving every bit of it. He was completely right and I knew it. I had to get my head out of my ass. I just didn’t expect Vicktor’s taunting to be so effective.

  I shook it off and started wondering around the Den. I soon lost myself to the maze of the lower levels halls. The winding corridors occasionally opened up to larger gathering areas where plush sofas and shelves of books lined the walls. I passed many closed doors that I dared not enter, for fear of crossing into someone’s territory.

  The familiar sound of metal ringing off metal drew my attention and I followed it for a few minutes, letting the ringing sound guide me.

  I followed it to a set of large double wooden doors. Inlaid on them was a depiction of two men in Beast form engaged in battle, each wielding a sword.

  I opened the doors and walked into a large, expansive room. On the left side of the room I saw an archery range, outfitted with multiple targets, some for throwing knives, others for axes, still more for a variety of projectile based weaponry.

  In the center of the room stood a large boxing ring occupied by two men, fighting. One swung a large curved sword, while the other, taller man had a two handed hammer. The ringing sound came from their attacks and subsequent blocks.

  To the right of the room sat the largest weapons rack I have ever seen. It housed everything anyone has ever picked up and used in han
d to hand combat. Standing in front of the massive display of lethal weaponry was a woman. She stood with one hand under her chin, her head at a slight angle, her other hand under the arm holding her chin and her weight was shifted to one leg. She clearly was thinking. Her hair was a rich red that fell to her waist in thick waves. She wore a leather jacket cut high to reveal her well-formed backside and muscular legs whose definition was clear in her tight jeans.

  I knew there were a lot of people in this place that wanted me dead, but I figured I wasn’t going to make any friends until I put myself out there and tried, the fact that she was clearly attractive and alone had nothing to do with my decision to talk to her, honestly.

  I walked up next to her and said, “You know they’re all basically the same, you just grab one and bash your opponent with it until they either give up or are dead.”

  She looked at me as I kept my gaze on the weapons.

  Tilting her head slightly she said with a strong Irish accent, “Is that what the Neanderthals are teaching the cavemen nowadays?”

  “I kinda liked the days when all you had to do was club a woman on the head and drag her back to your cave, saved tons on flowers.” I said, turning to her and smiling.

  She gave me a quick return smile and nodded towards the rack.

  “Tell ye what. Ye pick a club, I’ll pick a club and we can go see who bashes whose head.”

  “Let’s make it interesting, a contest to see who can pin whom first. I win and you have to eat dinner with me, alone.” I offered.

  “And when I win ye have to perform a service for me.” She countered.

  “Done.” I said.

  She turned back towards the weapons and picked out a short sword. Its width was the same as the handle and it only lessened near the middle then widened back out until it made a point at its tip. I recognized it as a Celtic short sword.

  “Coming, captain?” She asked, walking off towards the ring.