Author's Introduction: This is something I've been thinking of for awhile. The Golden Eagles, are my own Space Marine chapter, and this is all about them, their history their background, but more importantly, it's about Conner, one of their warriors. This story is about his beggining. The first chapter is short, don't worry longer better chapters ahead.
An Eagle's Baptism
I
Fists of Manhood
Conner looked at the brilliantly bright blue sky. It was cloudless, unmarred by pollution or weather, and a bright yellow sun whose light and warmth covered the entirety of the planet. There was no breeze and the heat beat down on Conner's body. Sweat ran down his bare torso, muscular, though he was only thirteen years of age. He held his shaven head tilted slightly forward, to avoid getting the sun in his eyes and to keep his sight on the other boy before him.
The sand was hot and coarse beneath his feet, and around him the dull brown walls and stands of the stadium stared down at him, like the eyes of the adults who filled those stands. They watched, judging the two boys who were about to cross the threshold into manhood. A bitter fight until one of the boys was either unconscious, or dead.
They called it Agium, a ritual that all boys of Calthor must go through if they are to be considered men, if they are to become citizens. More importantly, it was a sacrifice of blood to the Emperor, and the lords that lived in the distant Golden Mountains.
The crowd was hushed as the two boys circled each other, like a pair of wolves, each hungry for the other's blood. Their eye's never left the other, each reading the movements of the other boy. Only thirteen and already fighters, ready to hurt, to kill.
The other boy let out a roar and charged forward towards Conner, fists raised above his head to pummel the slightly smaller child. Conner rushed forward, under the fists, receiving the other's forearms beating down on his head. He could hear ringing as the other boy found the mistake and pulled back to use fists.
Conner was unrelenting, even with the punishment to his head he began to lash out at the other boy's much weaker gut, unprotected by bone, just mere fleshy weakness. For every hit he received to his skull, he delivered three just as strong strikes to the gut in front of him.
The other boy screamed out, and gave Conner a resounding punch to the side of the head that sent him sprawling into the dirt. The boy howled, thinking victory was upon him. Everyone in the bleachers leaned forward to witness Conner's defeat. His father sat and shook his head, ashamed his son was beaten so easily.
So the boy walked confidently over to the still form of his adversary laying face down in the dirt. Small clouds of dust were kicked up with each of his footsteps. He smiled, he had proven himself the better fighter. Conner would live his life in shame having been beaten so easily.
As he went to kick down into Conner's back, the boy was surprised when Conner suddenly rolled to his side, even as the foot descended. Conner jumped to his feet and lunged to the inside of the boy's legs. As shoulder connected with knee a loud snap echoed through the stadium, soon overwhelmed by loud screaming.
Conner stood, and grabbed his opponent's neck, and began to punch him in the face. He could feel the concussion running up through his knuckles and the bones of his forearm. The first blow split the other boy's lip spraying blood across Conner's fist. The second punch landed square in the boy's nose, while the third broke it. Blood immediately began to stream from the injury, spraying as the fourth connection smashed into his face. A fifth blow struck the boy in the eye, nearly shattering both Conner's knuckles and the bone that protected the boy's eye.
Conner didn't stop, his fist continued to pound into his opponent's face, despite the skin peeling from his knuckles with each strike, causing his own blood to fleck across the boy's face, almost unrecognizable through the beating. He was held up only by Conner's hand wrapped like a claw around his throat. Pain coursed through the snapped bones around his knee, his remaining foot struggled to keep his weight off of his injured leg, while Conner mercilessly pounded his face. Tears began to mix with the blood and the boy began to shake.
The adults watching watched with fascination, while Conner's father was beside himself with glee. A cloaked figure standing in the shadows merely nodded with approval.
In the ring, Conner didn't stop, the boy was still conscious, though just barely. Each fist shed more of the boys blood which now stained the sand around the two. It sprayed across the boy's face, dribbling down his chest mark his eventual defeat, while more still splattered across Conner's body, who wore a mask of fury on his face.
The boy tried to say something, but when he opened his bleeding mouth, multiple punches smashed his teeth into small fragments, cutting Conner's fists up. Conner merely growled in anger at the injuries he received, and let go of the boys throat to use both fists against him.
Without a hand to help hold him up, the boy screamed as most of his weight was put on his broken knee. He fell on his back, and Conner descended upon him, using both fists to pummel into him. The boy tried a weak kick with his uninjured leg, but it just bounced off even as fists began to rain down on his chest and neck. He couldn't breath; he could feel his windpipe closing as Conner relentlessly pressed his attack.
The boy's parents looked away, knowing what was soon to come, Conner's father leaned forward amazed at the comeback and the ultimate victory and honor that would come to his son. The cloaked figure stood with crossed arms, wondering if the boy would go as far as necessary to finish the fight.
No longer aware of everyone else watching him, Conner merely beat his enemy. He didn't stop until he felt the last vestiges of life slipping away from the other boy. Finally Conner let the broken body fall into the bloody dirt of the stadium floor. To him it seemed to be falling in slow motion, before landing with a dull thud and creating a small cloud of dust.
Conner stood above the corpse of his Agium opponent, feeling the boy's blood run down his face. His chest heaved with the exertion, and his hands stung from the cuts and scrapes he had received. In his mind though, Conner was unfazed by the killing he had just committed. He had heard of others going insane after beating their opponents into a pulp, and others taking great pride in their bloodshed. Conner however, merely stood, knowing he had merely done what the ritual called for.
An elder walked into the stadium ground; Elder Brandon, an old man but one of the most respected in the community. He put a hand on Conner's shoulders.
"Welcome to citizenship my child, you have fought well and brought honor to your family," Brandon spoke loud enough for all to hear, his old voice carrying surprisingly well.
The adults, the citizens, of the community all stood, applauding. Conner felt pride swell within his breast, until a figure stepped out of the shadows. Everyone in the stadium stared at him, wonder and awe filling their minds. He was huge, easily much taller than anyone within the stadium, and with impossibly broad shoulders. His white cloak covered what looked like black armor trimmed with a brilliant gold. His head was shaved, and his face held a pattern of deep scars.
"One of the Golden Lords," Elder Brandon muttered in awe, half to Conner, half to himself.
The Golden Lords, those who ruled Calthor from the distant Golden Mountains, those who were the Emperor's voice on this planet, and those who were protectors of the communities across its surface.
Everyone in the Golden Lord's presence knelt on a knee to show their obedience to the immortal Emperor. The Golden Lord stepped up to the two men in the middle of the stadium. He set a giant gauntleted hand on Conner's shoulder.
"You have shown promise young Conner, come with me to fulfill your destiny and serve the Emperor's will," the Golden Lord spoke, his voice deep, echoing through the stadium, his words heavy on everyone present, for every once in awhile, the Golden Lords descended to take the young back to their home, unseen by anyone on this planet. Those taken are never seen again. The honor of being chosen however, is the greatest any could ever ask for.
Conner didn't look up as he responded.
"Yes my lord," he said simply.
"Then listen to these words young one. As you are now, you must travel to the Golden Mountains, and scale the tallest peak to find our monastery. We shall be waiting for you Conner," and with that the Golden Lord lifted his hand and stepped away, and disappeared once more into the shadows.
Conner stood in the giant's wake, even as the others stood and took in all that had just occurred. Elder Brandon looked down at Conner.
"You have been chosen young one, and your trial given. Go now you are no longer of this community, you are above it," he said.
Conner looked up at him, and simply nodded.
It was within a few hours that Conner left his village, dressed only in the brown loin cloth of the Agium and without food or water, he walked out into the harsh badlands of the Calthor wilderness. The village had gathered to watch him leave, his father with tears in his eyes.
Conner did not look back once… nor would he see any of them again.