The Pharaoh's Champion

It took a moment for her vision to clear, her knees still stung from the impact. A voice echoed off the walls, making her flinch as the throbbing in her head slowly subsided. Her gaze still studied the sand but she could tell she was surrounded by people. Thankfully, none seem too concerned about her kneeling. A cloak that draped all around her seemed to have shielded her. A comfort she was eternally grateful for as her body swayed unsteadily.

Picking up a handful of harsh, grainy sand, she rubbed it in her hands as she carefully moved to her feet, desperately trying to control her body that was still reacting from before. Rising to the sound of creaking leather she realised it wasn't just the cloak, but her whole outfit that had changed.

She couldn't contain her gasp as she realised where she stood. The room was vast, and it took her back to stories only found in history books. The ceiling seemed boundless as she looked up, only to see darkness. Her bare feet took in the freedom as she stood upon the sand.

Strange, she thought. A moment ago, she was frightened for her life, but here, she felt calm, exhilarated even. It didn't matter that this was a different place and time. Right now, she felt like an entirely different woman. Whatever was happening at this moment, she was excited about it.

The Speaker's voice boomed across the stone walls.

"People of our great nation. I present to you… the beginning of this Champion's Tournament! The strongest men from throughout the land have gathered here today to compete together in the games. The victor will be named, the Pharaoh's Champion…!"

He gestured, and everyone's eyes followed.

That was when she saw him. Sat almost lazily on his throne, surveying the room.  To his right stood a man a mere step away. This was no ordinary man, she knew him well and a proud smile grew on her face. He was the Pharaoh's most trusted advisor and organiser of this tournament Tadal. But he was more than that, he was her father. His body partially blocked the light of a flaming torch just enough to keep the Pharaoh's face in shadow, that was how he preferred it, she remembered that at least. Golden jewellery adorned his lower legs, wrists and forearms. His navy cape ruffled at his collar and spanned the whole of his throne, like a blanket of power.

He was royalty incarnate.

She folded her arms, waiting for the Speaker to finish.

Yes, this would be fun indeed.

****

The Speaker continued.

  "… Furthermore, the twelve men that are stood before you are some of the strongest in our great nation. There are no rules. Any form of fighting is permitted. The only goal is… Victory!"

The crowd squealed in delight. The Speaker had a way of commanding this mob of people, growing hungry for violence.

The tournament was to take place in one of the great pyramids. The tallest and largest areas in the magnificent structure. The golden stones that built the walls were a testament to the equally golden sands of the land they called home, Egypt. The room was huge and magnificent. Covered wall to wall with beautiful pictures lovingly chiselled into the wall. Recently this room and it's shallow pit was the setting for where they duelled with monsters, but today, there was to be another fight to grace the sands of this battlefield.

The Pharaoh begrudgingly admitted to himself, that this tournament intrigued him. Normally, his expertise lay in the powerful creatures that were sealed within the stone tablets they used to duel, a magic that few could comprehend. His advisor, however, had an irrational fear that someone would come after him with a not-so-magical agenda, so this tournament would not be fought with monsters, but with good, old-fashioned fists.

The twelve men that stood on the lower ditch looked ferocious. Most were large, burly men, the fighting skirts they wore looked like they would rip with one awkward turn. Their top halves were exposed and their rippling muscles were on display for all to admire, and fear. Some were a little more slender, but still broad in the shoulders, more fast and accurate fighters.

Then there was one…

The Pharaoh noticed him huddled in the back, with his arms crossed in a petulant manner, his foot tapping in impatience, desperately waiting for the tournament to begin.

He wouldn't last too long, he mused.

Unlike the others, this man was short and covered in a cloak that shielded his features. All he could see were thin lower arms. His bottom half was concealed in a leather fighting suit, the bare legs showed decent thigh strength, but nothing like the tree trunks of the other men.

In the back of his mind, he recalled tales of nations to the far North using fighting suits of a similar design. It apparently kept them streamlined and less likely to be caught when in combat. The material was said to be lighter than cotton, stronger than iron and more durable than leather. Most fighters were sponsored by various high-status people in the land. All of them hoped to gain some part of the Pharaoh's respect and gratitude, by winning the tournament.

The Pharaoh noticed the cloaked fighter nod towards him. The Pharaoh grimaced. Had he noticed him looking?

Then he heard a slight snigger from Tadal and saw him nod back in the corner of his eye.

  "You know that competitor, Tadal?", his voice was deep and curious.

  "That competitor is my own, my Pharoah. My most treasured possession, in fact."

The Pharaoh's lip curled in confusion. How could this man who was so much smaller and feeble compared to his competitors, survive such a deadly match? It had been Tadal's idea to make this a no-holes-barred tournament. Why would he risk his most treasured possession so flippantly?

He was more intrigued than ever. Tadal had been with him since he was a child and there was one thing he knew… Tadal treasured family above everything else.

  A realisation suddenly hit him. "I wasn't aware that you had a son, Tadal."

Tadal turned and gave the Pharaoh a secret wink. "No, my Pharaoh. You are correct. I do not have a son.".

Against his better judgment, the Pharaoh was more anxious for this tournament to start than the crowd.

  ****

The tournament was now in full swing.

The first round would be a straightforward one-on-one, decided by straws that were drawn by those who sponsored them. After that, the second round would see the remaining six battle it out in two rounds of three competitors. Then the remaining two would go on to battle head-to-head to become the Pharaoh's champion.

It was perfectly simple.

They had already seen three men unconsciously dragged away. The Pharaoh considered himself quite physically strong, he'd seen his fair share of violence, and even he winced at the battered corpse of a man who was dragged from the pit.

The first victor was a gargantuan man called Memnon. He spurred on the crowd with his ruthlessness. He was the favourite to win. Rumour had it that he scared an entire army of wild men who came to attack their town from the sea. As blood dripped from the gashes on his smiling face, he indeed had a presence that would leave men quaking in their boots.

The Pharaoh's Champion would be his personal bodyguard, he wasn't sure he'd want to have such a man following his every move. Subtly rubbing his face, he cursed himself for falling for his advisor's plea, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

The speaker announced the next round.

  "Up next. The famous fighter from Thebes… Theroux.".

The crowd erupted into screams.

The man was tall and his shoulders looked like they could hold the weight of an army. Muscles poked out with every move he made. Long, flowing black hair cascaded wildly down his body. He wore a slightly ripped white vest and a beige fighting skirt that clung tightly to his massive thighs. They were training clothes, as a taunt to the other competitors, treating them like he was just warming up for this entire tournament.

  "And he is up against our very own… Maahes.".

The crowd seemed to mutter, no one seemed to know who that was.

Maahes, named after the King of lions, he waited for one of the largest men to move.

The small cloaked man stepped into the pit.

The silence spoke volumes. It was clear who the favourite in this match was.

  "It seems the crowd doesn't have much faith in your fighter, Tadal."

Tadal kept his eyes on the cloaked fighter. "I believe, and have complete trust in my choice. You of all people should know, Atem, belief and trust can turn the tables on a seemingly, one-sided match.".

A small grin came over the Pharaoh's face. This was why they were friends. The Pharaoh always kept a distance between himself and his servants. Not always by choice, but by the rules of society. Tadal was different, he was one of the only people he could be truly honest with. A long time ago, he had helped him harness his power in a series of gruelling ordeals that left him feeling much like the man who had last been dragged from the pit. They got through it together.

The fight began.

The underdog, Maahes's cloak billowed in wake of their speed. Theroux snarled, taking a power stance and digging his toes into the sand, having failed each attempt to grab him.

With a loud grunt, he launched himself. There was an impact that lifted the sand in a frenzy.

The Pharaoh scoffed, it seemed that the battle was already over. He glanced at his advisor. There was no change in his features, he still grinned from ear to ear, as the sand settled.

The Pharaoh lunged forward in his seat.

Indeed, Theroux had delivered a devastating blow. Maahes had caught him with one hand. Somehow, he had kept himself rooted, leaving barely any drag marks in the sand.

Suddenly, Maahes sprung their other hand out from underneath the cloak and landed a punch straight into Theroux's abdomen. He flew back to the other side of the pit. The room shook as he hit the wall.

On unsteady feet, like a newborn lamb, he began to cough and vomit from the impact.

Theroux wiped the bile from his mouth, clenching his fists in anger. Maahes taunted him, daring Theroux to launch another hit.

Before he could move, his knees buckled, as he forcefully coughed and spluttered on the sand.

After a few minutes, the Speaker declared him unable to battle and servants from around the pit ran in to cover the blood and vomit with fresh sand. The crowd didn't know whether to cheer for their local fighter or hiss at the speed it had ended.

For the first time in his life, the Pharaoh was speechless. He had no answers for what just happened. No one seemed to have seen this coming. No one except Tadal, who still grinned from ear to ear.

Perhaps this tournament wasn't such a loss after all.

The tournament continued.

It was the second round, and the groups were again picked by their sponsors. Maahes would be facing off against two other fighters from a neighbouring nation in the first battle. They both seemed familiar with each other and it was clear from the way they looked at Maahes, that they were planning a coordinated attack. The gargantuan Memnon was in the second round, along with two other equally large fighters.

As the battle began, the two fighters slowly made their way towards Maahes, grinning and laughing with each other at what was to come.

Maahes stood his ground and stared down the two men, still draped in his cloak.

He watched and he spread his feet, digging them into the sand. A coiled cobra, waiting for the opportune moment.

The Pharaoh felt a breeze swish through the pyramid. Odd, considering there were no windows in here. The only light came from the blazing torches hung all around.

The atmosphere in the room changed.

One of the fighters had gotten too impatient and lunged towards Maahes.

Taking his chance, he swiftly leapt up and wrapped himself around the back of his opponent, landing several devastating punches to the back of his head.

The second came to his aid.

He gripped Maahes by the cloak and ripped him off his ally, flinging him to the ground with a hard thud.

Maahes stumbled to his feet before the sand had time to rest, and desperately tried to regain his balance.

  His opponent grabbed his cloak and pulled it off with such force that the freshly laid sand flew up into the crowd. "Time to see who you really are… King of lions!"

The Pharaoh gasped at the person who stood, de-cloaked, in the pit.

Instead of a man, in the middle of the pit, there stood a woman.

Her torso was encased in a fighting suit from the Northern lands. It was so streamlined, like a second skin. It was clear why she wore the cloak, it would have been too obvious that she was a woman.

The crowd began to stir…

A woman? It can't be.

Did you see the way they took out Theroux?

Surely this is a trick?

I heard Maahes was sponsored by the Pharaoh's advisor

The Pharaoh sniggered to himself, he did love a good plot twist. "So Tadal. I thought you said you had no children?"

Bare legs showed an impressive amount of hidden muscle as she took a power stance, unfazed by the sudden removal of her cloak. Hair as yellow as the sun flowed in a long, intricate braid down her back.

Tadal gave him another secret wink. "Atem, I told you that I didn't have a son. I never mentioned a daughter."

The fight continued.

The Speaker, with a face like thunder, stormed over to Tadal and began to urgently whisper in his ear. The pair seemed to have a heated exchange.

The two men continued their onslaught on Maahes. She fought and countered. Ducking and diving, carefully taking certainly blows. Her eyes darted between each man, she looked startled and stressed with their constant ambush on her.

After circling her, the two men lunged forward. Then one seemed to falter ever-so-slightly and her expression melted into a devilish smile. 

Maahes slid to the slide and kicked out with her foot. Her shin hammered into the first man's leg at the moment he put his weight on it. It snapped backwards. With a terrible scream, he fell.

The second lashed out, his fist grazing her cheekbone. His other fist came fast.

A bit too fast.

By the skin of her teeth, she countered with her forearm and brought her other arm up, straight into his chin.

His neck snapped back.

As the Pharaoh watched her, he could see her reflexes were like that of a cat. Quick, fluid motions. She was truly something to behold.

The speaker returned to his post after speaking with Tadal. Just in time to see Maahes sideswipe her downed opponent as he tried to jump to his feet. She picked him up by the leg, and spun him around and around, before launching him into her remaining opponent as he tried to hobble to his feet. They both lay lifelessly on the side of the pit, groaning in agony.

To the sound of an unsure crowd, Maahes was declared the winner.