Gauntlet Rite of Ascension (27 page)

              “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 hand 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.

              “I guess that makes you Brenda, the teen angel?” I asked back.

              She laughed a hearty, joyful sound, making me realize I wanted to make her do it again and often.

              I scanned the rack, looking for something to use. I grinned and grabbed a long bladed katana. It was an excellent blade, its balance superb.

              I walked over to the ring and slipped through the ropes the same way I had seen wrestlers do a thousand times.

              The red-haired woman took off her jacket and tossed it out of the ring. She wore a dark green tank top that had a deep cut in the back showing a large Celtic style tattoo covering her muscular shoulders and back.

              I stood in a relaxed pose, watching her. As she turned to me I said, “I think it’s only fitting that before you eat dinner with me, I know your name.”

              She nodded once and performed a formal curtsy.

              “Eavan.” She said.

              I bowed slightly at the waist and mimicked her formal greeting.

              “Eric, at your service.” I said.

              She waited until I was bent over to rush in, attempting to catch me by surprise and end our contest quickly.

              I had anticipated a move like that and met her short sword with my own. The sound of our weapons clashing rang clearly in the air.

              She backed off and put some space in between us, slightly disappointed that her trick didn’t work. We circled each other, waiting for one of us to blink.

              I changed my grip on my sword and Eavan wasted no time as she launched a complicated series of thrusts and slashes at me.

              I recognized her tactic. It was the same thing Abaddon did when we began a sparring session. She was testing my skill; her attack was designed to find the chink in my armor. Abaddon opened up every session with it and used the results to attack my weaknesses, forcing me to strengthen them.

              She finished up and again retreated a few feet, getting some space between us. We circled each other again a few times.

              “Not too shabby for a caveman, huh?” I asked.

              “Yer skill is not totally deficient.” She said back.

              “Your turn.” I said as I came in and performed my own complicated routine of attacks, gauging where her skill level was.

              She countered everything I threw at her efficiently and effectively. I was impressed, her technique was sound and it would take more effort than I thought to beat her.

              We paused again and separated, I smiled at her slightly and she winked back, then rushed in and resumed her assault, this time she held nothing back and I struggled to keep up.

              She started adding kicks and elbows into her pattern and it was then that I saw my opening. Her skill with the blade was strong, but she tended to add more flourish than necessary to her kicks and punches. It reminded me of a dancer who adds extra style. Her movements were slightly more showy than needed, something Abaddon cured me of rather quickly.

              I continued to parry her attacks and block her kicks, waiting for my opportunity. She followed up a powerful backhanded slash with a wide arcing kick intended to bash my face in.

              She over extended slightly and with a push of will I planted my right foot, forcing it to shift and allowing the powerful claws of the Beast to rip through my shoe and dig into the ring, giving me more speed on my reaction than she had grown accustomed to.

              I dropped under her leg and rushed her, tackling her to the mat and pinning her arms to her sides and wrapping her legs with my own, stopping her from moving.

              She squirmed and struggled, which I thoroughly enjoyed when I heard a powerful voice bellow, “EAVAN!”

              The depth of the sound startled me for just a second as I was fully engaged in the contest.              

              Eavan was able to break my grasp on her arm and twisted around landing a solid elbow to my face, her Beast adding strength to the attack as her eyes shone a deep yellow.

              The distraction allowed her to continue her momentum and I found myself on my back with her on top of me. She smiled triumphantly.

              “I win.” She beamed.

              I looked over to the source of the interruption and saw the same very large fellow with the big red beard from the Hall, standing next to Abaddon, both of them with unapproving glares.

              “Okay, okay, you win.” I said reluctantly, holding both hands up palms open.

              She shifted her weight and got up, holding out her hand I took it and she helped me up.

              “I’ll be calling on ye soon.” She said in her strong Irish accent.

The words rolled off her tongue with a lilting cadence that I absolutely loved.

              She turned from me and went over to Abaddon and the other man.

              “What are ye doing? Ye know that it is forbidden to fight with anyone until after the Rite!” He fumed, his thick accent almost making his words unintelligible.

              “Papa, we were not fighting, we were exercising. There is nothing in Pack law that says candidates for the Rite cannot engage in exercise. Is there?” She asked sweetly.

              She looked to me for help. Abaddon stepped in.

              “Exercise, is that right? If one of you thinks it was a fight, then it’s a fight, but if you both agree it was exercise, then who can argue that?” He asked, looking to me to clarify.

              I knew what he was doing, there were probably eyes on us and he wanted to make clear we both thought we were exercising so no one could claim we had violated the rules.

“Of course we were just working out. I needed a partner to help me work up a sweat, the drive here was long and I needed the exercise.” I said.

“Well, nothing wrong with getting the blood flowing. Young people need to work off their excess energy once in a while.” Eavan’s father said, calming down.

Abaddon stepped up to me and said, “Oengus, this is Eric, my charge. Eric this is Oengus, leader of the clan O’Sullivan of Ireland and father to Eavan.”