Does a God Dream? [M]

[Tearen Wover]

Tearen stood at the threshold of the initiation chambers, the feeling of anticipation bouncing up and down his spine.

"No...no..."

He shook his head. He was no longer Tearen. He had been given a new name, and a new body, though it looked the same as his old one. Granted, though this body had the same dark brown skin and flowing silver hair as his previous one, it also felt...different. Tea...Nealaphh looked down at his bare hand, opening and closing it slowly. It was if he could feel more than he used to. Every sensation was vivid and invigorating. He could smell the fresh, cool air of the night sky overhead, the sweetness of the long grass around his feet, and the constant breeze of the flirtatious wind along his totally exposed body.

It was Initiation Night, the night when all of the new followers of The Master were gathered into the usually sealed chambers of the same name that had so long been the curiosity of he and his other thirty eight conscripts. For months, they had undergone rigorous mental training and deprogramming, learning to shrug off the inhibitions of the civilized world from which they had been pooled. They had asked their mentors, perpetually clad in their brown, monkish robes what initiation into Enigma meant, but only ever received warm smiles or coy chuckles. Needless to say, the rumors of some kind of sexual congress were rampant, but otherwise, they were in the dark.

The Initiation Chamber itself was an immense sandstone building, colored a chocolate brown and covered in the inscrutable hieroglyphics of the Enigmas. It was one hundred twenty seven yards in diameter and was a perfect circle, which was rather odd for a building built in the Nameless City. Regardless, each of the Initiates had been positioned at the entrance to one of the countless doors that ringed the perimeter of the Chamber and stripped of their clothes. To his left, Nealaphh could see Nobin, a man he had little familiarity with, and to the right Nerendaf, one of his closest friends since coming to the Nameless City on the Nameless Planet. The two offered nervous smiles at one another, before turning their attention back to the simple wooden doors set into the stone walls in front of them.

All at once, there came the sounding of a loud blast of horns and pipes; a discordant sound that raised goosebumps across Nealaphh's skin. It was clearly a signal to finally enter the Chamber. Swallowing his apprehension, as he had done many times since his training had started, Nealaphh pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the chamber.

Inside, a dome arched high into the ceiling, where a single, round aperture let moonlight onto the soft, loamy dirt that was the floor of the interior of the chamber. A high wall ringed the circumference of the large clearing, and ensconced torches offered a warm flickering light to the scene. All in all, it would be quite underwhelming if it wasn't for the fact that every single Enigma was seated in stands that rose high up into the recesses of the dome. Their ritualistically scarred faces stared down at the initiates with a great spectrum of expressions, ranging from solemn melancholy to malevolent glee. Normally Tearen would be feeling quite self conscious about his nudity, but the teachings of the Enigmas had taught him not to care. However, now that he was able to see the female initiates' own exposed flesh as they too entered the chamber, his body took notice.

"Initiates." said a loud voice, that none of them recognized.

"You have all failed the first test of initiation."

They looked at eachother, confused. Some of the Enigmas laughed.

"You were forbidden from entering the Initiation Chamber, and all of you obeyed until we granted you permission. Have the mores of civilization been so ingrained into you? Have we taught you nothing?"

Nealaphh's heart plummeted. Of course. The most important part of being an Enigma was to simply do what felt right, and ignore rules and laws. In this regard, they had all, indeed, failed. Other Initiates expressed their outrage and shame in due fashion before the voice continued.

"Do not despair, because there is yet hope to ascend to the next level of Awareness. The first task; Eat."

On cue, a great feast suddenly appeared in the middle of the Chamber. A great, round table covered with myriad dishes of decadent preparation. Sets of silverware and flutes of champaign were set at places for each of the the naked hopefuls. Normally, such a thing materializing out of thin air would be startling, but the acolytes had come to expect this kind of thing. A moment passed, before many of the collected acolytes surged towards the banquet with crazed looks. Nealaphh himself launched into a full sprint, his eyes locked on a particularly sumptuous looking haunch of meat, dressed in berries and herbs. Nealaphh slammed his hands onto the white linen tablecloth and vaulted over the place setting for himself, snatching the food im midair with his feet before landing back into the dirt and immediately burying his face into the utterly delicious fare.

Other Initiates who stayed against the wall were in shock; they had just been scolded for blindly following orders. Why would anyone dare to follow another one? The answer was made clear in a moment, when the Voice called out to one of the diners.

"Nudralea, why did you obey the command?"

Nudralea looked up from the large flat pan of roasted tubers she was gorging herself on and spoke loudly, flecks of half-chewed sustenance flying from her mouth.

"Because I want to!"

Nealaphh nodded to himself as he took another ravenous bite of succulent meat. Exactly. They had been scolded for obeying orders, and then were given an order. The expectation, the unspoken order was to then not follow what orders would come next. It was almost a catch twenty two, but in the face of such things, it was simply a matter of doing whatever felt best, and there was no way he was passing up on food this good. The Voice asked another question, this time to one of the Initiates who had not dashed forward to sate themselves.

"Nafadk, why did you not eat?"

Nealaphh glanced over at the tall man; he had always been the most full-bodied initiate in their group, and now that his genitals were laid bare, it was clear to see that the state of his musculature was contiguous with his assets. The deep-throated man answered in a relaxed voice.

"Because my body compels me to feed, and I am not a slave to my physical form."

Nealaphh elicited a small chuckle from behind the rim of the fifth flute of champaign he was guzzling down. It was also a good answer, and one he had honestly not considered. After a time, once those Initiates who had opted to eat were finished with their conjured fare, they stood back up and returned to their original stations, though a few deigned to relieve themselves first. The now disheveled table and banquet disappeared with as little ceremony as it had come, and The Voice came again.

"Now for the next test. Kill."

At this, two ceremonial looking daggers appeared in the middle of the arena, dressed in gold filigree and glinting in the combination of moon and fire light. At this, everyone balked. Was this an order to obey or ignore...or something else? Some of the intiates lowered into defensive stances. Suddenly, a small voiced woman by the name of Nytelano spoke loudly.

"I refuse to take the lives of-"

Her preaching was cut off as the woman to her right, Nhazwa, sprinted over to her and snapped her neck with a vicious snarl. There was a beat, and suddenly blood started flying and spraying all across the floor of the Chamber. One man, Nuripad, was the first to reach the knives in the center, but rather than turn them on the woman who was rapidly approaching, he took both daggers and buried them into his own eyes. He let out a shrill roar before collapsing to the moist dirt.

Meanwhile, Nealaphh had already managed to dispatch two of his colleagues when a man named Nohone, smaller than he, jumped on to Nealaphh's back and began to try and throttle him. With an enraged huff, Nealaphh stumbled backwards against the rough stone wall of the Chamber and pressed into the skinny weight of Nohone, trying to crush the strength from the man's thin arms, but it was to no avail. Nealaphh hunched to the ground and grabbed the hands clasping his neck and yanked them free with a desperate grasp before he felt a white hot pain in his back. Nohone slumped off of Nealaphh with a gurgle. Nealaphh looked up in panic to see Nerendaf dashing away, knife in hand. It was clearly apparent that he had meant to run Nerendaf through with the ceremonial blade, but had he also intended to kill Nealaphh? Or had it been a gambit to save his friend? This mystery would never be answered, and Nerendaf was promptly tackled by four other initiates desiring the weapon.

Nealaphh felt the wound on his back, watching the melee as he gauged his health. The wound was mostly superficial, but bleeding badly enough that it would need attention soon. Still, he knew he had to capitalize on the adrenaline still in his system, and joined the frenetic dogpile for ownership of the knife as well.

Everything was sweat, blood and elbows at the five initiates tumbled and competed for their lives. All of a sudden, Nealaphh saw a glint out of the corner of his right eye, and slammed the arm holding the knife to the ground with an imperious grasp. Another initiate, Nealaphh had no idea who, tried to snatch it from the vulnerable hand, but they were grabbed by the legs and thrown away. Nealaphh had only a quick second to take advantage of the opening, and with vicious intent, he arched his back forwards and sank his teeth into the neck of the initiate he had pinned.

The taste of warm metal filled his clenched jaws as he thrashed and tore at the soft flesh with his teeth. Nealaphh had never dared dream that it could be so easy for human denticles to rend the skin of another, but in this melee of the survivor, he learned. Once the victim beneath him had ceased their forlorn heaving, Nealaphh rose from the pile of carnage, blade in hand and swallowed the mixture of foreign and self-made blood in his mouth. With dark eyes, he spied the other knife wielder stalking towards him, a man named Nikgolc. He was known to be rather proficient with bladed weaponry, but they had all been trained. Nealaphh too adopted the Enigma stance and they circled each other amidst the ever present screams and snaps. An embattled pair of initiates tumbled past between them, and they charged at eachother, silence the only sentiment to be exchanged.

Nealaphh inmediately sustained a long cut up his left arm as he smacked Nikgolc's blade away with the corresponding hand. Nealaphh tried to feint his blade to the right before thrusting at Nikgolc's ribs, but the superior fighter shifted his weight forwards and stepped on Nealaphh's right foot, causing them to both collapse to the floor, with Nikgolc controlling the pin. Nealaphh could hear the battle crazed acolyte muttering something over and over between his seething, bared teeth. Die.

Something shifted in Nealaphh at that moment. He had already suffered through mortality's final act once before, as they all had. The second time held the same fear, the same panic that he had felt the first time. And just like the first time, Nealaphh was held immobile, unable to move and change his fate. He could hear the final words he ever heard from his wife and daughter, muted and distant. The constant beeping of the heart monitor. The helplessness.

"NnnnnnnoooOOOO!" Nealaphh screamed, the strength of panic flooding his limbs. He smashed his head into Nikgolc's nose, causing the man to flinch but not relinquish his grip. Nealaphh proceeded to wriggle and throw his weight around in frenzied throes of denial, forcing Nikgolc to maintain his focus on Nealaphh and Nealaphh alone. He did not anticipate Nyeikon, a normally meek female, to wrench Nikgolc's dagger from his hand and lop his head halfway off with a two handed stroke. Nealaphh immediately rose up and drove his own blade up through her jaw and into her frontal lobe. The blade was withdrawn with a gut turning schluck before Nealaphh turned around, surveying the Chamber. All other initiates were either dead or dying, muted gasps and whispers echoing all throughout the blood spattered, torchlit house of carnage. All, except one. Nudralea. She stared at him with vigorous fire burning in her eyes, complete confidence in Nealaphh's death emanating from every twitch of her sweat speckled frame. She was unarmed, but unafraid. Nealaphh looked down at his two daggers and back to her. He should just stab her where she stood and be done with it. That would be the smart thing to do. That's what he should do. But that's not he wanted to do. Nealaphh wordlessly tossed the knife over to the bloodsoaked woman, where she picked it up with a lithe, swooping motion. There they stood, staring at eachother, preparing to die.

"Hold."

Nudralea and Nealaphh both froze on the spot and looked around, eyes wide. Now what?

"Mate."

They both looked back at each other, eyes still wide. It was neither of their first impulse to do so. Obey? Disobey?

Do what you want.

Nealaphh could feel the urge rising from his mid section, a slowly inhaled breath that spread a tingling chill through his limbs and up to his head, where his mouth began to salivate. A sensation somewhere between imminent nausea and exuberance, it ricocheted through his body, forcing him to its will.

Mate.

Nealaphh could not see the Chamber. He could not see the carnage. He could not see the torches, nor the thousand eyes staring at him. He could see only Nudralea, and her body, painted with the sacred life force of their friends and rivals. He flung his blade to the side and they melded together coupling with deep intensity and synergy. Their embrace was that of unbridled passion, and the kiss was that of empathy, sweet upon the soul.

There, in the middle of the unspeakable horror, they sank to the ground and tended to one another's overpowering need. Their breathing matched, their bodies in rhythm, they performed the ancient rite of those who held a pulse within their hearts and minds. Existential barriers faded away as they gave in to eachother, all the varied efluence of passion concocting a heady aroma which drove the imperative even further...

...

Once the final test had been completed, Nudralea and Nealaphh rose from the dirt and grime to be heralded as the newest Enigmas. Cacophanous applause and the ever-dissonant hooting of horns and pipes lauded them as they staggered from the floor of Life, victors in the Rite of Primality. The lessons would last for eternity, and perhaps, one day, they would ascend beyond the status of Enigma, the station they now occupied, and join the Echelons of the Unbodied.

One could only hope.

No other reward would suffice for what had been done.