Chaos Rising

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. For millennia, the swath of land beside the river had been sacred, a place where the kings and queens of this life could freely pass into the next.

Times had changed.

Omari lay on his belly, muscles taut with anticipation, eyes darting from one sandy knoll to the next. It was his job to keep them safe, but the ever-present gloom made it difficult to pinpoint threats. For the thousandth time, Omari cursed Apep, demon god of chaos, and the unholy cult that unleashed his malice upon the world.

“I don’t see them,” Ur whispered. “Let’s make a break for it.”

Omari shook his head. He couldn’t see them either, but every fiber of his being commanded him to vigilance. “They’re out there. Keep looking.”

A gust of wind swept through the Valley and ruffled Khepri’s sheath dress. Omari wondered if the priestess was cold. Three days ago, the land had been hot and arid. Today, devoid of sun and cloaked in darkness, it was frigid. Omari doubted Khepri’s garments did much to warm her, though she showed no signs of discomfort. Her body, thin and delicate next to his powerful frame, was still, her eyes closed. If Omari hadn’t caught the faintest twitching of her lips in the moonlight, he might have thought she was asleep—or worse. “She’s praying,” Omari thought. “Good. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Something glimmered at the edge of Omari’s vision. He trained his eyes on the entrance of the tomb, but saw nothing. Had he imagined it? No, there it was again, pale light dancing off the reptilian hide of a dragon, one of Apep’s evil minions. The beast slithered into view and Omari heard Ur’s breath catch in his throat. The man was afraid. Omari didn’t blame him. The dragon was 15 feet long from head to tail, with spear-like fangs that could easily skewer a camel. Its cylindrical body undulated over the sand with impressive ease and deceptive speed, like a King Cobra, only bigger—much bigger. Omari was an elite Medjay warrior. He’d received the best combat training in the Kingdom, but the creature still made him shudder beneath his leather armor. He couldn’t imagine what Ur, an architect who’d never seen battle, was thinking.

“Now that we know where the creature is, we can plan our approach,” Omari whispered, doing his utmost to instill confidence in his companions. “I’ll sneak around to the left, keeping to the shadows. If I can get close enough, I’ll attack the beast from behind. If not, I’ll do my best to distract it while you two run for the tomb’s entrance. Once inside, stick to the plan.” Neither of his companions responded. “You remember the plan, right?”

“Ur will lead us through the tomb,” Khepri replied, her voice low and methodic, as if she’d just emerged from a trance. “Once we reach the burial chamber, I will begin the ceremony and attempt to summon the pharaoh’s spirit. Gods willing, he’ll tell us the location of the amulet.”

“What if someone falls behind?” Omari asked.

“We keep going,” Khepri said. “The future of the Kingdom is more important than a single life.”

Omari nodded; then turned to his left. “Any questions, Ur?”

Ur licked his lips. “No, no, I understand the plan. May the gods protect us.”

The world had never known darkness before. Not like this. Since the dawn of time, man had relied on Ra to shepherd the sun across the sky. The great god had never failed to accomplish this task, though Apep was relentless in his pursuit to thwart him. Three days ago, Apep finally succeeded. The sun remained hidden. If the royal priesthood was to be believed, it was because the sacred amulet, the one given to each acting pharaoh, was missing.

The amulet, known across the Kingdom as the Eye of Ra, increased Ra’s power and gave him the ability to defeat Apep in battle. Without the amulet, Apep had overcome Ra, unleashed eternal night, and ordered his legion of dragons to wreak havoc upon the earth. If Omari and his companions couldn’t commune with the recently deceased pharoah, ascertain the location of the Eye, and return it to the palace…

Omari couldn’t think about that now. The warrior gathered his feet beneath him in a low crouch; then backed away from the ledge and into the deep shadows behind. Shrouded in darkness, Omari made his way, slowly, so as to not make noise and draw attention, to the south. The terrain was uneven, rising and falling at random intervals, and turning his quarter mile trek into a half hour venture. Eventually, Omari found himself at the other end of the small basin in which the pharaoh's tomb was located, a mere 15 yards from the dragon’s tail. Omari took a deep breath and willed himself forward.

10 yards.

Despite the cold, a bead of sweat trickled down Omari’s forehead and into his eye. He blinked it away, refusing to relinquish control of the bronze penetrating axes he held in his hands.

5 yards.

Omari paused at the edge of shadow. One more step and the dragon would be able to see him in the moonlight—assuming it turned around. At the moment, the beast was still facing the opposite direction, its massive head angled at the sky, its tongue licking the air between its bloodthirsty fangs. Why had the creature remained in plain sight for so long? Omari didn’t have time to contemplate the question; it was time to strike. “For the Kingdom,” he whispered. Then he leapt at the dragon, axes flashing through the air with practiced precision.

The blades never found their mark.

The dragon’s tail heaved to the right. Before Omari knew what happened, he was on his back. Every inch of his body ached. Blood rushed from a gash on his head, soaking the sand beneath him. Only his training saved him. Rolling to the side, he narrowly avoided the dragon’s hungry jaws.

Omari sprang to his feet and took the offensive, charging the beast. A guttural scream exploded from his throat, which he’d later come to regret. In the moment, the barbaric outcry seemed to unleash the god-like power he needed to face the dragon.

Omari leapt at the creature once more, which seemed to take the dragon by surprise. It cocked its head in confusion, offering Omari an unimpeded path to its neck. Omari swung his right arm with all his might and felt his ax cleave through scales and flesh before emerging out the other side of the beast’s body. The dragon’s head landed in the sand next to Omari, a surprised expression forever immortalized on its face.

Omari took a deep breath and turned around. Ur and Khepri were sprinting towards him, their eyes wide. Omari felt a sense of pride course through his body. If he inspired that kind of awe in his allies, he could only imagine the sheer terror he imbued his enemies.

The triumphant feeling was short-lived.

Omari glimpsed movement behind his two companions. There was movement on either side of them, too. In fact, the entire basin seemed to be alive with commotion. He could hear the splash of sand and the scattering of rocks. Worse, he heard hissing.

Dozens of dragons emerged from the shadows, summoned by Omari’s battle cry. Their demon eyes glowed red with anger. As one, the creatures rushed towards their human prey.

“Run!” Khepri screamed.

Omari turned, intending to sprint towards the entrance to the tomb and the safety it promised. Before he took a step, his leather sandal caught on a stone and he tumbled back to the earth.

He felt small hands tug at his armor. Khepri. “Go,” he shouted, pushing her forward. Then, summoning the depths of his strength, Omari propelled his body after hers.

The dragons closed in, their ear-piercing shrieks echoing throughout the basin. Hate radiated from the giant reptiles like heat from a fire. It was palpable. Omari felt a kind of terror he’d never known before and harnessed it to run faster.

Ur reached the tomb first, though Khepri wasn’t far behind him. Together, they strained to open the door. It barely budged. If they couldn’t open it, they’d be eaten alive, the Kingdom would fall, and chaos would reign.

Omari joined his companions and pulled. The heavy door swung open a foot. “Good enough,” he hissed. “Get in.”

The three of them squeezed through the crack and into the darkness beyond. Omari turned to close the door behind them, but he never got the chance. A dragon slammed into the door, forcing it closed with a deafening slap.

The companions were thrust into a darkness so complete, Omari wondered if they hadn’t escaped the dragons at all. Perhaps they’d been caught, murdered, and sent to the afterlife. No, that wasn’t right. As the adrenaline wore off, the pain in his head returned.

He was alive.

“Is anyone hurt?” He asked.

For a while, Omari heard nothing, save for the ragged breathing of his companions. Finally Khepri said, “I am unharmed.”

“As am I,” Ur offered.

“Then we carry on.” Omari said. He fumbled in the dark until he found an unlit torch on the wall. “Khepri, can you conjure a flame?” Omari heard a shuffling—the priestess rummaging through the small leather pouch slung across her shoulders, no doubt. Then he heard her strike two pieces of flint against each other. Sparks flew through the darkness. After a quiet word from Khepri, a spell, perhaps, the sparks grew into a flame, which she used to light the torch in Omari’s hands.

Omari handed the torch to Ur, its orange glow illuminating the entryway to the tomb. “Lead us.” As chief architect of the tomb, Ur was uniquely qualified to guide them through the labyrinth of corridors that stood between them and the late pharaoh’s final resting place.

Ur took the torch and walked deeper into the underground structure. Khepri set her shoulders and followed him. Omari brought up the rear. “The only way out is through,” he thought to himself. Then he followed his companions into the darkness.