The moon was high outside and casting its cold glow on the exotic gardens and fountains of marble and stone.
Peacocks had finished their nightly preening and had settled for the night near the high walls built to prevent intruders from breaching the rich interiors. Marble and sandstone and without flaw.
Behind the grandeur, guarded by two large hounds, was an entirely different view.
A small path from a less kempt area led to landscape of fire when the blooms were tongues of flame and the waters were molten lava.
Even the grass seemed to hiss with infernal fury as heat rose through the charred earth into a rufescent sky. Only if one walked with the Gods or their guardians was is possible to bear such a vista.
Today the grounds were empty. Even in the world of the Gods the heat could get the best of them and Am Heh, despite with adoration of fire, was not immune to it.
The day had been warmer than normal and showering had been the only way to cool down. Water still beaded down his well-toned body, reflecting and shimmering on golden skin.
After a while that would wear off, leaving him in the same uncomfortable state, albeit far milder than some, as before.
Ishaq coped with the conditions somewhat better than most. The son of a farmer he was used to bearing the violent heat of the day, resting only when the sun had reached its peak in the sky and it became hazardous to one's health. Even then some had still persevered, often the labourers of unscrupulous owners who knew they were easily replaced.
He missed the fields. Those peaceful pastures of golden corn, even if it had been those that had led him here.
The drought had not been that unexpected. The spring and summer had been threatening a rough farming season and the animals were already weak from a bad patch during winter, depriving them of the food they needed and many having to be slaughtered to feed the humans.
The waters had receded and the crops were unable to get the fluid they required; the silty substance procured was not fit for even plants.
Desperation soon took over. Nothing any labourer or overseer did was making a difference and the only thing left was to offer the God and Goddess of the harvest a sign of their continued adoration, curry their favour once again.
Only a human would do at this stage and Ishaq, amid the tears of his mother and stoic silence of her father, had been demanded.
He was pure. Quiet and hardworking and, they had said, any God would delight in having him in their service.
"Renenutet would treat you well." They had told him as they took him into the wilderness, performing the ritual to alert the Gods to his presence. "Remember she nurses the great Kings from the day they take their first breath to the day he takes his last. And Min, should he see fit to be the one to take you, is a fair and just master. Many would envy you."
Many would envy him.
Had Ishaq been bolder he would have asked what was to envy. Indeed, to be taken, body and soul, to the world of the Gods was something children wondered about, playing in their spare time. Yet it entailed more than a simple trip and discomfort of the rituals.
It meant never seeing his loved ones again.
Ishaq looked down at the parched earth, hiding the tears that shimmered as bright as the stars above, silently bearing the chill of the clay paint pressed on his skin as the men continued their work. Crescent moons, twisted symbols slowly formed on the canvas of his skin, drying immediately in the warm air.
Offerings of lettuce were placed near him with some trepidation. Even the best was brown, small and wilting before they had been picked. Not even the weevils had taken interest.
"I hope you will represent us well," the elderly hem-netjer said softly. He lowered his wrinkled hand to rest on Ishaq's cheek, tilting his head. "None wish to give their child or their neighbour, even if the knowledge that they go to a longer life under glorious eyes." He smiled sadly. "Hold fast that you will meet your family again and, that until that day, you will have aided their survival and of so many others."
"Yes, wise one." Ishaq barely heard his own response, words choked by fear and unease. This was not dying but just as fear inducing for none had come back from this journey either. All he had to comfort himself with was the stories, and who knew if they were accurate?
The priest bowed, patting his head like he would a sorrowing puppy. The barely audible whimper only added to that image and brought sad or pitying smiles to the faces of those around him.
The air grew cooler when they left. Or maybe it was just more noticeable? It was eerie, sat there amongst dead and dying stalks, alone in the dark with only the shadows and sounds of unseen animals for company. Ishaq wrapped his arms about himself, shuddering from a cold he couldn't explain.
Everything felt different around him, hazy and unearthly.
Sounds around him were both enhanced and dulled, stirring his senses and causing his heart to throb in his throat.
He tried to pull his knees tighter to him but the position made it hard to breathe.
"Fear me not, mortal."
The voice was gentle, the sound of a soft lullaby sung to a distracted child but it was hard not to be fearful as the svelte form glided forward, walking between two worlds.
From the neck down she was the embodiment of the ideal woman. Her chest swelled from the thin confines of her cotton dress and her body curved smoothly to a trim waist. Not a flaw was visible on her skin, the colour of dusted cocoa and as soft as down.
Yet atop this glorious form was the head of cobra, the forked tongue accentuating the pleasant hiss when she spoke, the eyes betraying none of the kindness of her words.
"Goddess," Ishaq shifted, lowering his head and feeling his body tremble with fear enhanced by the awe of being in her presence.
A hand rested on his head, stroking the coarse curls soothingly. His muscles relaxed under the kind touch and warmth of maternal love and fertility that radiated from her.
"Fear me not," the voice repeated. "Did you not know that cobras are kindly to their young?"
"I have never dared go near one," Ishaq whispered. "They would not appreciate my being too close and my parents always taught me to respect those we live alongside. It is their homeland also; we must share it."
"Indeed, they are right. And that heart is why I shall aid your people and you shall be drawn to me as one of my children, even if I must send you to another. You will not be killed or cast away."
"Send me to another?" Ishaq looked up to meet the dark eyes, shimmering like onyx stars amongst a scaled emerald sky. "Great goddess, who do you send me to?"
Renenūtet smiled pityingly, continuing the empathetic stroke of his hair. "I have many servants; I need no more. I have others sent to serve elsewhere now. None have had any cause to decry that decision, for I should know if they did."
She held out her free hand, expecting him to take it. After a moment hesitation, Ishaq obliged, his fingers cold against her own. His head span and his consciousness flitted, sparks and shadow dancing madly before his eyes. A wind whistled piercingly as its music, enhancing the disorientation.
Then there was silence. Darkness. The latter, he soon realised, was due to his eyes being clamped shut.
He felt strong, yet feminine, arms embrace him. Picking him up with an ease one wouldn't expect from man or woman. He just allowed it, there was nothing he could do now except move with whatever tide took him. Fighting would only mean drowning.
He couldn't remember much after that. Only being fed a sweet nectar and bread at a stone table, far fresher and softer than any he had before, sating his hunger for longer. Voices whispered about him but the words were too muffled to decipher. Many eyes were upon him, scrutinising his every movement and judgemental as they decided his fate.
There was only one statement he heard clearly, the ominous voice of a man as his future was decided.
"Send him to Am Heh..."
Now here he was. Walking so nervously down the golden corridors towards his new master's chambers. It was the first time he had been sent there, having spent the first week learning the layout and his duties.
The jug felt heavier with each step he took towards the double doors, closed fast to avoid any unnecessary social interaction. It had been made clear from the start that Am Heh disliked company, holding small gathering reluctantly for the benefit of his higher employees. If one could believe the general chatter that passed between people, he rarely stayed long, seemingly finding the whole farce irritating.
Halting outside the door Ishaq adjusted his grip to balance the jug in one arm, knocking as loudly as he dared with the other.
'He won't answer to admit you. Knock to announce yourself and then enter after a short pause. Bow your head, go and place the jug on the table and then wait for him to dismiss you. Do not speak unless bidden to do so.'
The advice was fresh in his head and engraved deeply enough that he would not forget it.
He paused rather longer than required, waiting for the knock to fade completely from the room beyond and several seconds after.
As he was told there was silence from within.
Ishaq swallowed hard, pushing open the hefty door with his shoulder.
Am Heh barely looked up when he heard the knock, continuing to read over the scroll with even less interest. It was the pause before entry that caused him to lower the papyrus,his dark eyes observing the meek entrance of the young man. The face was not one he recognised but, unlike the others, the aura emanating from the mortal was calmer, perhaps nerves.He gestured to the table nearby, half judging each movement the new slave made."Put it there," he instructed placidly, unable to look back to the papers he was reading, the mortal having piqued his curiosity. "And wait for a moment, there may be other things I need you to do..."Ishaq opened his mouth to reply, snapping it shut quickly as he remembered his instructions. He gave an awkward bow instead, faltering under the weight of the jug again before making his way over and relieving himself of the burden. Automatically he rolled his shoulders, cramped from tens
Am-Heh kept to his word and, as the sun started to sink into its wearing bed, he entered the stone courtyard that housed the dogs overnight.The cobblestones were delightfully chill against his bare feet and the high walls gave shelter from both heat and wind should it ever blight the realm.A slim mist rose up from behind, the mighty structure built to hide the lakes that were beyond them. Hidden from view, they were not erased from the ear or other senses. The dull scent of brimstone flowed like a dying river about them and the hiss as the flames fought each other was often heard.The dogs were a fine sight.Elegant and athletic, their large upright ears heard every minute sound about them. They romped playfully, delighting in each other's company and few rounded stones that had been placed for their amusement.Eight pairs of amber eyes turned on Ishaq as he slipped through the gate, looking him up and down
As Isaac continued to dream, the world below continued to move. The shadow of Am Heh's anger was spreading further, his crow had given him a wide range of ideas and options.The ground shook, shattering any windows that still remained and cracks splintered weaker buildings, opening the earth beneath them. The lower storeys subsided, sinking dangerously and leaving the structures weak; impelling people to face the outside.The cemetery earth opened, and the scent of death and decay flowed freely. The groan of the tombs as they were forced apart resembling the cries and moans of those beneath them. It would be easy for any nearby to think that, as the newly deceased were exposed to the world, jaws slack and gaping in silent screams.A bolt of crimson lightening tore the sky, shredding the clouds and scattering fiery pebbles down below.Cowering in the shade of the skip a hapless vagrant moved as the co
The deluge had receded. The drains bloated with the copious liquid they had swallowed. Puddles lingered, the lasting remains that they couldn't digest.Kyle stayed some way behind Babi as they ascended out on the streets, feeling strangely self-conscious at the possibility of being seen with the dwarfish, misshapen brute.His own fair-weather friends had always pulled the eyes with their numerous tattoos and piercings, not the mention the coarse vocabulary they weren't afraid of using. But he had always blended well, it was a way of life and none of them were strange enough to belong to a sideshow, whatever his grandmother might have said.The humiliation of being put down was still strong also, slowing his step as he seethed.Babi didn't notice. His slaves always remained behind him on at his feet, the latter he made some allowances for considering his diminutive size. To tell someone they were not to be higher w
"Where are you going?"Marie sighed and hurried down the corridor as Mr Montford strode down. The tiles were cracked and the lights hanging dangerously from weak wires but he wasn't fazed."You wanted to move, didn't you?" He said bluntly, focused on avoiding the pits and on the concaved door at the end. "Well, I decided you were right and I shall take a few matters into my own hands. The papyrus might not have given much away but it has enough imagery for me to form some conclusions.""What conclusions?" Ash huffed. For a man who was so much older and whose injuries should have rendered him incapable of moving, he had an amazing endurance."Hieroglyphics can be interpreted many was," Mr Montford answered with a smile. "Sometimes just one picture can give you a lot of information. A picture does speak a thousand words after all. And why risk remaining like sitting ducks when we can perhaps help our d
Isaac tossed uncomfortably in the depth of his sleep. It was heavy, as though he was being pushed into the bed by some unseen force, pressing his heart to release the emotions of the life he was dreaming of.The memories too were weighty, painful when he finally awoke.That seemed to be some way away as he continued to see the ancient world play out before him, looking out from a body he knew but was not in control of. Not anyone, he was simply an observer, watching a replay and unable to change what had already passed.The dogs' coats shimmered as he combed them, rewarded by happy wags of their crinkled tails and the occasional excitable lick of their satin tongues.Ishaq chuckled, batting them away as he tried to brush their ears, feeling they were trying their best to distract him from his duty rather than show any thanks."I might prefer this to biting," he laughed, pushing the hounds head back gently a
If Ishaq was curious about his master's seemingly lenient nature towards him then Am-Heh was more so. The God who was feared by nearly all of Egypt, not to mention some of the other deities also. Ruthless and hard hearted when it came to ridding the living world of those who displeased him and condemning those in need of long-lasting punishment in the afterlife, it was almost obscene that he would show compassion towards a lowly human.He had little time to think of it though, his irritation over the next evening's proceeding grating his nerves and the news of a temple whose priests had insulted his existence.This was not the first time they had offended his ears and he had frankly informed Atum that this was the final slur. The creator knew there was little point in arguing. He could only hope his anger didn't spread like a dark cloud over the entirety of Egypt.Devotions to the Gods varied from temple to temple. His own following w
A sultry heat permeated the air in the room. The evening breeze was sparse but encouraged by the open doors. Not one remained closed, the warmth made more obvious by the gold surroundings that glowed like another burning sun.In the shady corner two musicians played the lyre and the shepherd's pipe, providing a lively tune for the scantily clad dancer who weaved herself skilfully into erotic and sensual positions. The heady scent of incense surrounded her. With the rhythm of her menit-necklace and the sistra it was an evocative display.The musicians also watched her, as if hypnotised or playing their music to suit her moves. They had no concept of musical notation. The tunes were passed down from one generation to the next and adapted along the way.The older servants, a motley looking crew of varying ages and appearance, watched her leeringly or with a half appreciation of the movement, focusing on the sweet, red wine