�������� �� Her body had learned to moved beyond the bounds of conscious thought and deliberation. It moved faster that it had ever before, not so much stronger as heedless of its physical limitations and it quivered on the edge of total collapse. At this moment it was the all-consuming need to excel, to conquer in order to gain ground and rank that drove her. Something had taken hold of her psyche and pushed her body beyond its limits and her mind beyond reason. She knew that the opponent that faced off and drew up to meet her was similarly driven -and perhaps without the fatigue that her body forcibly denied.

        It was called �The Ascension�. The legacy of the Adge Kruix, the warrior caste. All castes had a touch of �The Ascension� but nowhere else was the drive to rise in rank so prominent and so vital to survival within the caste as with the Adge Kruix. No reason, no hate, no fear fueled this eternal surge. It was a need beyond the confines of mind and body, but a relentless inherent magically induced urgency. Among the other castes it was the internal knowing that allowed you to measure yourself among the others in your caste. It was how you knew your place. The Ascension would tell you your station in relation to others. But for the Warrior caste, especially those of lowest rank, it became your lifeline. The inherent magic of The Ascension affected the psyche such that it was intolerable to have equals, or peers. You either submitted yourself to the will of those above you, or you exerted your rank on those below. To the other castes it was a subtle dance, but within the Adge Kruix it was internal warfare -until you raised yourself to the higher ranks where the game became wickedly underhanded and insidious. Like rats in a crowded cage, you would kill your brother, neighbor, friend to excel. That or be devoured alive. If not by your peers then by the gnawing drive that drummed in your head, making thought impossible.. until debilitating insanity brought you crashing down.
        She was halfway there before it embraced her. She was well aquatinted with her own splitting mind when the Ascension blossomed within and began to consume her as well. And so she fought, using her body as the only weapon between her and the entire Caste. And she was beaten down soundly by her peers. Though The Ascension caused them to fight among themselves, it seemed she was targeted for more than her share of beatings. No one wanted to be equated to a mongrel.
        Even when her will faltered and crumbled.. the Ascension would intercede and force her to fight when the body had nothing left to give. Only when the body completely failed and dropped would the will of the Ascension relent.. for the time being. As would her peers, the initiates to the Adge Kruix. Another day that the Mongrel fell under them was a another step they gained in their own rite of Ascension.
        There were times where she could not drag herself back to her quarters. The Warder would come to find her beaten senseless where they had left her. He would take her back and tend her wounds -preparing her for the next round. He would never allow her to miss a training cycle. If he needed to he would draw on what powers he commanded to accelerate her healing or boost her body with a hollow, temporary strength. All done with the indifferent attention of mending a weapon for the next clash. At times bones did not knit evenly or slashes would still bleed, but she had been repaired sufficiently enough to continue her routine.
        And such was her life. A routine of differing degrees of pain. The days dragged on. One day blended into the next. Time didn�t pass so much as did a cyclical rhythm. The training cycle superseded the diurnal cycle. And even within that cycle time passed as the Warder dictated. She was in constant training. When she wasn�t among the assembled initiates to the Caste training as a group, she trained with him on an individual basis.
        Her time alone with him was no better than facing the lot of her fellow initiates. The Warder was ever-present facet of her life. He was her shadow, her partner, her master, her healer. Whenever she found herself away from the crowd and crush of the others he was there. He had arranged for them to share quarters. Not Even the most private moments required for daily necessities where allowed her. Sometimes for apparently no reason that she could figure he would attack and strike her. Once she even woke to him throttling her. She was able to throw him off and the moment she was free he was sitting across from her crooning and talking calmly to her. She came to be intensely aware of him. Her sleep patterns arrested to the point where she never slept more than twenty minutes at a time. She no longer dreamt.
        When her dreams left her, she could no longer escape to the Dreamscape. Thoughts of the life she had before -of the ones she cared for were left behind. Her last refuge had been taken from her. It was no longer safe to think of them, let alone visit them in the Dreamscape. The only thing left to her now where the voices.
        Often times the cacophony was more than she could take. Such that she came to look forward to the training. And if the voices followed her there she would counter it by droning the tenets of the Shi�kul Lyeaz Immaculate Reach in an endless mantra meant to drown them out of her splitting head.
        Every so often the escorts from the Conclave�s labs would appear during a class training and take her for some odd test or interrogation. Upon her return from the labs she would throw herself further to the training. It came to the point where losing herself in preparing her body for the pursuit of the Ascension became a respite from all else her environment inflicted upon her. There had come the realization that to embrace her birthright as Lyeazic might be her only means of survival.
        So she made an ally of Pain and bore her wounds stoically. She surrendered herself to the routine, leaving smears of blood on the ground where she executed her exercises. The beatings and attacks continued, often several per day. She accepted it as part of her life. But as the cycles continued it seemed her injuries decreased if not in severity, at least in number. And at the assembly training a few other initiates began to show cuts and bruises of their own, compliments of the Mongrel.

        The one who was in her path now still bore a few marks from their fight a few cycles back. He accosted her now, ready to reclaim what ground he had lost to her. The other caste initiates drew forward, drawn to the impending fight like sharks to a feeding frenzy. She had already marked him and read his intention long before he saw her and glided into her path. Though she knew her advantage would soon be lost to the numbers around her, it didn�t matter. Her initiative carried the first strike and as they were all coming to learn, the Mongrel�s first strikes were vicious. Most likely because that is all that she would get in before being overcome by the others who also wanted a piece of her. She saw the briefest glimmer of doubt in his eyes as she rapidly closed on him and she smiled wickedly.

        The Warder stood before the Synod and the Conclave. Those who formed a regency from the elite of the Xuill�arun, and Zaidain, the mage and cleric castes respectively. If Shi�kul Lyeaz was said to have a ruling class, the collective of the Synod and the Conclave would be it. The regents of the Lyeazic looked on the Warder patiently as he gave his report.
        ''As we speak she is crawling her way up through the initiates rank. The Ascension has taken a firm grasp on her and its as if the training is not something her body is learning but recalling. There is hardly anything left of the person she was when we took her. She is half-breed but she is also Lyeaz. She knows this now, you can see it in her eyes. She realizes she is Lyeaz and this is why she survives. There is promise.''
        There was a the slight hushed murmur of whispers in the council chambers. Finally the Speaker for the regency nodded to those around him an signaled that he would now answer the Warder. The whispers stopped. ''Enough promise that she might justify the means of her existence?''
        The Warder paused to consider this question. He was not exactly sure what they meant but he had a feeling. He shook his head slowly and splayed his hands as he spoke, choosing his words carefully. ''If her rising within the Adge Kruix is not enough for you then I would ask what is your will. Tell me what she is to be for you and I will make sure she becomes it.''
        ''Show us she has the ability to be a Cadre-class assassin. We would very much like to know if the Zhellaron Project had any merit after all.''
        Making use of the skills he�d gained all those years in his work, the Warder regarded his superiors placidly, though the conversation was headed in a direction he was loath to pursue. Though he now knew what they wanted to hear he still chose to answer indirectly. ''She is not yet ready. She has yet to rise above her station as an initiate to the Adge Kruix. She is not nearly strong enough. Given time and my influence she will be an elite of the New Cadre.''
        A whispered conversation began between the Speaker and the two regents seated next to him. After a moment the Speaker nodded and turned his attention to the Warder. ''Where is she now?''
        He answered immediately, his fix on the passage of time and the initiates routine being second nature. ''The initiates are about to conclude the third training cycle of the day. They are in the East quadrant of the Kruix complex.''
        A handful of the regents rose from their seats and the Speaker nodded to the Warder. ''Come. Present us your charge, Warder.''
        Though he kept his confusion from showing outwardly he could not help but ask ''Now? You wish me to take you to among the Adge Kruix?''
        ''We want to see evidence. You promise of potential is not enough. We want to see the Mongrel.''
        He lowered his head in bow of reverence to the Speaker and select regents that moved towards him an then turned to lead them out of the council chambers. He moved with calm assurance, trying to leave behind the acute awareness that this was one of the extremely rare times that the regents themselves deigned to visit the Adge Kruix training centers.

        The Greater Court was were the initiates were often released in between their training cycles. It was one of the largest open areas of the complex. It was very much like a town square by size and function. It was a place where all ranks could congregate and intermingle. Except among the greater number of initiates, there was hardly any conflict because of the Ascension. Most could sense their rank in relation to each other and operated accordingly.
        Any discord among the higher ranks settled itself in a far subtler method than the tooth-and-nail fighting that the lower ranks were subject to. Still every so often watching the initiates �crawl�, as the higher ranks called it, gave them a preview as to who might be aspiring to their level. So it happened that on this particular day -even the higher ranked warriors felt the weight of this latest brawl and began to drift towards the riotous atmosphere surrounding the place called �The Cage�.
        This particular courtyard had gained its name by its location and the architecture that towered and surrounded it. It had become the unofficial proving ground for the lowers who �crawled�. And in the Cage several furious clashes ensued. But the one in particular that drew the observer�s attention to the very center was the fight that had started it all.
        The dance was one of staggered and unnatural timing. Not so much a rhythm as a study in chaos. It was not the strength and fluidity of a coursing river but the clash and froth of its rapids. First fast then slow. Hard and then Soft. Push then Pull. Direct and then Circular. Never the same, always changing.
        The Mongrel, standing over the broken and bloodied body of one, fought two others at the same time while a third had begun to circle in. Though the extended trauma of the fight thus far had taken her failing vision she moved to meet them, her senses were finely attuned to compensate. The metal bracer that cupped the stump of her handless arm was now gone. Early in the fight it had been hacked off by one of her opponents.
        The surrounding areas began to populate with watchers as the other fights on the periphery settled themselves but the one in the center drew on. There was no mistaking the importance of this last fight, especially when the Warder came upon the area in the company of the Synod and Conclave. For only a moment the attention of the observers were drawn to the balcony where the regents stood. Then all eyes were back on the last fight.
        In a flurry of blurred motion and a spray of blood another began to collapse. Before he was down, she had jumped over his body and was upon the next. With a wet hollow ripping sound the sharp splintered ends of radius and ulna punched through her peer�s throat. Kicking the third elf off her arm she turned vacant eyes on the last one who had been circling her. He had since stopped and was backing away. He felt as well as those around the shift in the Ascension. There was no longer the overwhelming need to fight on. Somewhere in the midst of this fight she had Ascended.
        She whipped her arm out in an arc, not to strike but to splatter his face with blood. She hissed flawlessly in their tongue,
        ''Is it enough to taste the pure blood of your brothers or shall I spill yours too, initiate?''
        The last elf dipped his head in a nod, a submissive gesture and continued to back away, along with the other initiates widening the circle around her. She sensed the weighted silence in the air as much as she smelled the area surrounded by others of all ranks. As her vision slowly cleared she turned a slow circle to see the ranks looking down on her. Her eyes fell on the Warder and some faces she recognized from the labs -scholars from the Synod & mages of the Conclave.
        Though she felt her Ascension, looking on the Synod, Conclave and all others above her she knew her place. In a daze she looked down on herself, both arms bathed in blood past the elbow. A comforting sort of delirium set upon her. She raised her eyes and then her badly damaged arm to her superiors.
        It started as a whisper but it was enough that they could hear her,
        ''I stand outside the sphere -but before all that threatens to taint you, Shi�Kul Ly-''
        She collapsed among the bodies of those she killed as the Ascension relented and her body shut down, but it was the Warder who took up the recitation of the Creed of the Adge Kruix where she had left off. ''...By your sacred will I keep you exhalted and pure. Mine is the hand that shall vanquish in your name...'' Though he spoke quietly it was still with enough presence and authority that the rest of the Adge Kruix close enough to hear joined and finished it ''...I am the strength that will keep you immaculate and just. I forsake the honor of life granted at birth so that I may be your instrument of purity, of truth, of deliverance.''
        While the rest of the Adge Kruix faced those it was intended for: the regency, the warders eyes alone were on the Mongrel as he delivered the Creed. That is until the Speaker came to stand beside him and with a nod and the slyest of grins.
        ''Promise, indeed. She will be taken to the her quarters to recover, while you will join us as we reconvene. You have done well, Warder.''

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''Ascention'' Copyright � 1999 Angelina Greenwood