Ro-man-tanuh looked down at the beautiful spectacle of his niece, Ro-tah, as she sat sedately in her acolyte robes, watching the contest before them. The high priest of Anubis, Ro-man-tanuh had demanded from the Pharaoh a boon of a guard for his niece, the only family he had left. At the height of Egyptian power, the high priest of Anubis was an enviable position, and Ro-man-tanuh knew his niece could be used against him.
The Pharaoh had granted him fifty slave fighters, and the last three slaves fought beneath the throne for the high priest's pleasure, for the right to guard Ro-tah. One warrior in particular seemed obviously blessed by the dark lord of the Underworld. He stood tall, two hand spans at least above Ro-man-tanuh, a towering man of sinew to six feet.
The warrior was using the claws of Anubis, four blades, thin and serrated, that attached to a wrist and palm band so that the blades would protrude from each knuckle. Across his back was a pair of butterfly axes, small and deadly hand weapons that he had yet to use. His long black hair was tied back in a warrior's tail, and his loincloth was stained with the blood of a wound he had taken on his thigh.
For two whole days this warrior had fought, and Ro-man-tanuh was impressed greatly, but each of the three had merit. The last to stand was awarded the sacred honour, by the law of the horde set down by Anubis himself.
One of the warriors gained a momentary advantage, and lunge forwards to impale the tall slave. He moved as a snake, and twisted his limbs around the lunging slave to strike at his throat. The floor again was showered in blood as the slave fell. One of the warrior's claws was torn from his hand as the slave twisted away, and he quickly discarded the other.
The last two stood face to face, the tall one reaching behind him to loosen the axes. With a quick spin, he flashed the sun's rays off of the gleaming head of his weapon and blinded his opponent. The man stumbled back, weaving his sword back and forth to try to ward off his wily opponent. The slave had wit, and skill, and once again Ro-man-tanuh was impressed.
The sword danced back and forth, and the tall warrior watched it, almost entranced, until he darted forward, twisting and contorting his body as he moved. The high priest frowned at the absurd manoeuvre, until the slave screamed as the axe tore apart his chest and the feeble armour that was his only protection. There was a moment of stunned silence, then Ro-tah stood.
Ro-man-tanuh stood as well, and the rest of the court followed suit. The warrior knelt down and reverently closed the eyes of the two men he had just slain. The high priest exchanged a quick glance with his niece, and she shrugged. Ro-man-tanuh cleared his throat.
"By the law of the horde, you have earned the right to guard my niece. Name yourself, warrior." The man looked blank for a moment, and the high priest stepped down from the dias. "Slave you are no more, warrior. What were you called before your capture?" The man bowed low to the dias, and his shoulder's moved minutely as he shrugged.
"I was known as Kah Mohan, my lord." The high priest narrowed his eyes as his memory flashed.
"Of the Bear clans to the south of the great river-lands?" He bowed low again.
"My master is wise." Ro-man-tanuh grunted, and looked to his niece.
"Will the son of the land of the Bear be to your satisfaction, Princess Ro-tah?" Kah's eyes lifted up for a second and then he ducked his head again in obeisance, but the fire of curiosity raged in him. Ro-tah's eyes regarded him with an unmistakable allure, and her expression was superior. She stepped down to stand beside her uncle.
"Lord Anubis must first approve of his skills. The law of the horde will prove his entrance, but the final ritual must appease the Jackal God." Ro-man-tanuh nodded and bade Kah to rise. "Should he live, he will be worthy."
Kah stood, his bloodstained loincloth sticking close to his sun-browned skin. His weapons dropped to the floor as the jewelled priestess strode past him, beckoning him with two crooked fingers. Kah looked back at the high priest, but Ro-man-tanuh merely inclined his head in curiosity. Kah turned and followed his master's niece.
A heavy curtain fell across behind Kah as he strode into the priestess's private chambers, and he eyed her warily. Her raven hair, as black as his, but with a wealth of silken curls, fell to one side as she appraised him. "Disrobe yourself." Kah blinked in surprise.
"My priestess?" She reclined on a golden bench, her dark smoldering eyes raking over his tired muscles.