FEATHER OF MA'AT
Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here’s the fourth chapter. Hopefully you all will like it.
Balrog: And why would we do that, pray tell?
Celebwen Telcontar's answer for the Readers: I don't know what to put here, so this is it! Please reply with your answer to what to say!!
Readers: (Silence)
Celebwen Telcontar: Alright, alright! I get the point! Here’s the story.
Alas, my love, you do me wrong, to cast me off discourteously,
And I have loved you so long, delighting in your company.
Green Sleeves was all my joy, Green Sleeves was my delight,
Green Sleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Green Sleeves?
I have been waiting at your hand, to grant whatever you would crave,
I have both wagered life and land, your love and goodwill for to have.
Green Sleeves was all my joy, Green Sleeves was my delight,
Green Sleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Green Sleeves?
Oh, I have prayed to God on High that you my constancy may see,
And that yet now before I die, thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.
Green Sleeves was all my joy, Green Sleeves was my delight,
Green Sleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Green Sleeves?
The song rang from the throat of the camel rider, sighing over the dunes.
“Will you be quiet?!” his companion snarled. “You’re making me sick with your moping about like a lovelorn idiot!”
“Sorry, Mahmud,” the man said softly. “I miss her, though.”
“Of course you do, Senakhtenre. We all do. She was as one of us, and a rare friend to our leader. But we must be silent.” The Medjai had taken Senakhtenre in without a fuss at all, and treated them as one of their own, after teaching him their ways. For some time, he had been in lessons with the Medjai children, learning of Imhotep’s inherent evil, how to speak, read, write, and even think in Arabic, and how to move about unseen. The shadows on the dunes in the early morning and mid-late evening were used to keep cool and to learn how to move about without being noticed. Senakhtenre had also learned how to ride a horse front, back, and sideways, trick riding to keep in the saddle under any circumstances, and means of escape should he need to. “Come, my friend. Let us be on our way.” The two of them rode to the oasis near them, and rolled out their bedrolls. “What did you learn today?” Mahmud gazed impassively at Senakhtenre, his deep eyes fathomless and not judgmental.
“The world is our responsibility to protect and care for. We are the keepers of secret knowledge, that if let loose, will destroy the world. Many myths and legends of different cultures are true, and we are the keepers of them.”
“Very good, Senakhtentre. But, tell me of the Mornor, their Master, and his defeat.”
“The Mornor were ancient… tribal leaders?” Senakhtenre asked.
“Tribal leaders is adequate. Go on.”
“They were leaders, and were gifted magical objects by the Ancient Ones. The magical objects kept them alive for an indefinite amount of time, but their Master had made a different object that called to the Mornor’s objects. They became his slaves, and ruled the world, far more than the Scorpion King or the Army of Set would have. Then, a farmer disabled the object, faught and killed the Mornor’s Master, and died in the process. The Mornor were killed when their Master died.”
“Good, very good.” Mahmud lit his pipe, and let the smoke drift up. He then lit a stick of incense, and began to speak, reciting a tale about the Ancient Ones, their Sun and Moon of the Earth, and the being whom had destroyed them. “The Scorpion King is of the same blood as the Destroyer, for when the Scorpion King became a servant of Set, he was given the blood of the Destroyer to make him invincible.”
“So this Destroyer is some massive creature?”
“It is written that it was said to be a spider the size of an elephant.”
“A…” Senakhtenre couldn’t speak; a spider that size would have to be absolutely massive, and was bound to be deadly. No wonder the Medjai called the beast The Destroyer! He would destroy all he walked on!
“Do not abuse this knowledge. Should the Destroyer ever come to seek our lands again, we shall not survive, Senakhtenre. Do you hear me?”
“Clear as crystal,” Senakhtenre said solemnly.
“Come, then. We must sleep. The night grows old, the morning ever closer, and on the morning we will travel to greet your bride.”
“My bride?!” Senakhtenre sputtered. If he had been eating or drinking anything, he would have died from asphyxiation. “What do you mean, my bride?!”
“Just that, Senakhtenre. We must consult with your wife for land purposes. She holds much land, and must be given proper bounds for her land. She also holds many buildings, and from what we can see, lives within one of them. Our leader is also there, speaking with her.”
“Ardeth Bay is there?”
“Yes, Senakhtenre. Be at peace, no harm shall befall you.” Mahmud leaned back on his pallet before smiling at the younger man through the smoke that wreathed his head. Senakhtenre nodded. If the Creature was there, then he could defend himself and Nefertiri well enough. Now if only he could get some sleep… he didn’t want to face a murderous undead priest and priestess on a sleep shortage.
Alex stood slowly, letting his gun drop to his hand. He lifted the weapon, sighted down the barrel, and slowly eased back on the safety release. His target lifted her head, looking his way. The shadows masked his presence, making it impossible for her to see him. Alex pulled back on the trigger, feeling the weapon buck in his hand as the bullet exploded from the gun with a roar. The gazelle flung its head up, rearing in shock and pain, and the herd scattered, leaving only dust in their wake.
The gazelle was fat, meaning a good store of meat for the coming dry season. Since his aunt Jezebel had been killed in a London raid five years ago, Alex and his uncle Jonathan had moved to Morocco to live in the desert in seclusion. Two years before that, Alex’ parents had vanished for unknown reasons.
“Scham,” Alex called. The bay stallion he had commandeered from a trader came silently at his call, waiting for the young man to hitch the dead gazelle to his travois. “Good boy. Now let’s go home.” Alex jumped onto Scham’s back, and the two rode off.
When Alex got to the tiny oasis the two of them called home, he quickly skinned the gazelle as his uncle began a fire. Strips of the meat were hung on the drying racks to make into jerky in time to come, and pieces were placed on spits over the fire to cook for the evening meal. Then, Alex came upon an interesting find. The doe had been pregnant with twins. The supple skin of the two fawns would make good soft leather, possibly for saddle blankets.
“Tomorrow, we’re going to the next oasis over. We’ve nearly removed the vegetation here, and the Germans will find us if we don’t move.”
“And if we do? They’ll find us out in the open,” Jonathan replied.
“We need to get one of the Medjai to help us. Possibly that Muhammad fellow that gives us food for the water. The spring is also slowing, Uncle. If it stops completely, then there will be consequences. Animals won’t come here again, and a valuable water source will be gone.”
“The spring could be clogged,” Jonathan put in.
“It could be. In that case, the natural water pressure will force the water out and the clog with it in time. Until then, we need to keep going.”
“Alright,” Jonathan replied. He began to fix up his bedroll for the night, getting ready to sleep against an early morning.
Running from oasis to oasis in the desert slowly making their way Eastward was telling on the two men. Their bodies were leaner and harder than ever before, and a diet of high protein and low vegetation was slowly sapping their resistance to diseases. Jonathan’s eyesight was failing slowly but steadily, most likely from a lack of vitamin A. Alex had caught scurvy once, and the Medjai in the area had made him eat leaves of an unknown plant which had been found in every oasis so far, staving off scurvy after then.
The two of them fell into a deep sleep, rolled in blankets and hides to stave off the icy nocturnal chill of the desert.
Alex and Jonathan crossed the desert slowly, the Medjai leading them to the small oasis they were going to live in. The camels were being stubborn, groaning and making a fuss about moving at all, much less moving faster than a walk.
“Come, travelers,” their guide said, motioning to the line of green on the horizon. “Travel, we must, the cursed lands.”
“Oh no,” Alex moaned. Jonathan looked ready to turn back. Their guide urged his camel, and thus the other three and the bay stallion Scham, into a rocking gallop.
Suddenly, a white camel raced out in front of them, a boy on its back. He and the Medjai began to speak in Arabic, the Medjai going pale rather swiftly. As the boy looked on, the guide turned his camel.
“Eat with child, we must. Come.” The three of them followed the boy, the Medjai’s words having been spoken as though they were a portent of doom, and his paler-than-usual complexion making Alex fret. Jonathan looked ready to bolt, so the younger nomadic international traveler broke the very tense silence.
“Don’t worry, Uncle Jonathan. I’ll protect you.”
“Thanks, pal,” Jonathan whimpered.
“Interesting,” the boy called back in English that seemed accented with a combination of British, American and Arabic flavors. “The elder seeks shelter form the younger. Worry not; my father is a good man, and my mother is a good woman. You will stay the night, then we shall lead you to your rest on the morrow.” The boy apparently translated for the Medjai, who began to fervently pray to Allah.
A line of brown fuzziness was obscuring the oasis, and the Medjai’s eyes widened.
“Sandstorm,” he said to the two English-speakers. Alex cursed in a way that would have given him a thrashing had his parents been around, and Jonathan closed his eyes and whimpered again.
“Come on, hurry up, Mohter’s got food waiting with Ardeth Bay and Senakhtenre as house guests,” the boy said, urging th white camel into a swift jog.
“Senakhtenre?!” the former guide exclaimed. He began babbling in Arabic, the boy not translating for the two younger men.
“Come!” the boy said imperiously, speaking over the frantic Medjai. A biting wind not ten minutes later brought tiny, needle-sharp grains of sand to the four, burrowing into folds of their clothes. The storm had come upon them faster than they had anticipated. Cliffs arose before them, dark and ominous in the swirling sand. The camel seemed to know its way though, for it guided the troupe into a large cavern. They went up a ramp, a rock wall falling behind them and locking out the sandstorm.
“Wh—where are we?” Jonathan asked.
“We are in my home. Good girl, Jasmine. Come on, there’s a good feed waiting for you in your stall,” the boy said to the camel in ancient Egyptian. “Come, follow me.” The boy used an ancient flint striker on a piece of iron pyrite, lighting a torch and filling the dark corridor with a flickering, eerie light. They rode into a deep chasm, windows to the outside being boarded up to keep the sandstorm outside. Camels and horses were in stalls on the walls, and the boy slid off of his camel. The other three followed his example, and a silent, bald and shaven man came to take the camels. The white one went directly to a stall, obviously used to this routine. “Come, all of you, The welcoming feast awaits,” the boy said in English and Arabic. He led them to a large chamber where precious water was stored in several cisterns. One of them was filled with steaming water of a deep green, the water smelling strongly of rotten eggs. “Do not worry, the water here is of natural springs. The hot water is good for your body and soul, the cold for afterwards where you must bathe to remove the heat. Your clothes will be cleaned and returned to you on your departure. Such garments are impractical within walls. I am called Seti,” the boy said, finally saying his name.
“I am Alex O’Connell, and this is my uncle, Jonathan Carnahan.” The four of them were soon bathed and redressed in clean, ancient style garments, smelling of a pungent banana like smell that came from the beautiful periwinkle blossoms that were brought in and soaked in the wine that they drank.
“Seti? Is that you?” a voice called in ancient Egyptian. Jonathan’s eyes went wide, and Alex gasped in recognition.
“Mum!!” he screamed, racing u pthe hall and into her arms. “A-Alex?!” she gasped. “Oh, Alex!”
“Mum, why’d you leave us?”
“Hold on, baby, Jonathan needs to hear this as well. Is he here as well?”
“Evy!!!” a voice screamed.
“Jonathan! Oh by the Gods it’s good to see you two!”
“Alex!” a voice screamed. Alex’ father came barreling down the hall, tanned almost beyond recognition and in a Medjai robe. His forehead was tattooed and his forearms were scarred and pockmarked as if he had taken up falconry.
“Rick!” Jonathan cried.
“Jonathan! It’s Senakhtenre now.”
“Se-huh?” Jonathan replied, obviously confused.
“Call me ‘Tenre. Evy’s name is Nefertiri now, or ‘Tiri.”
“’Tenre, let them breathe,” a new voice said.
“I am, Ardeth. Muhammad,” Senakhtenre said, touching his lips and forehead to the Medjai. The two began speaking rapidly in Arabic, Nefertiri jumping in with a snarl once.
“Mum?” Alex asked, unused to this new side of her.
“Ardeth?” Jonathan asked.
“Hello, Jonathan, Alexander. Seti, you have lessons.”
“What?!” Alex asked. “Mum! Is Seti Ardeth’s son?!”
“No,” a new voice said in ancient Egyptian. “Senakhtenre, Ardeth, and the children, including you, Alexander, you have lessons.”
“Father, I can write!” Seti burst out.
“Imhotep, I must speak with Alex for a bit,” Nefertiri said.
“You—you—Evy—you—” Jonathan spluttered. Alex swallowed hard.
“Mum, you’ve bedded this—this—thing?”
“Alexander Michael O’Connell! Watch your mouth or you’ll be getting a mouthful of soap!” Nefertiri replied. “Imhotep and I are married now. You’ll just have to get used to it.”
“Dad!”
“Get used to it, Alex. Imhotep asked me for your mother’s hand, so I’m okay with their marriage. Now, how are you with a calligraphy nib?”
“Calligraphy? Fancy writing? Isn’t that for medieval manuscripts?”
“I’ll take that as a ‘not proficient’. You’ll have lessons in calligraphy, stealth, religion, and what Imhotep calls the ‘arts of knowledgeability’. Don’t worry, son, you’ll learn fast.”
“A—alright,” Alex blinked a few times. “I still don’t trust him, though.”
“That’s okay, son. I trust Imhotep as far as I could throw this cliff, but no farther, so we are in accord here. But we will be living here for some time, making sure that we can support ourselves. If the Germans decide to attack the desert, they’ll have a nasty surprise waiting for them. Imhotep can be very powerful, and your mother isn’t a weakling either. If she feels that people need to be protected, she will beseech Osiris, her god, and if He answers, then all of the gods will get into this conflict. From what I understand, the Hebrew god is going to get involved in any case with the way that the Hebrews are being treated. Your mother is sickened, and she was one of the people who used to find the slavery acceptable!”
“Mother… Mum… She found slavery… acceptable?” Alex gasped. “How… how could she?!”
“She didn’t know any different, son. With the lessons, I’m going to ask Imhotep and your mother to teach you history from their viewpoints. It’s very… eye-opening. Yes, the Hebrews were slaves, but were they treated badly? From what I have heard and read, the Hebrews were treated no worse than a house-servant, not a slave, in the 19th century Southern United States. A lot of times they were treated better. I have also reclaimed my memories. I was Senakhtenre, one of Pharaoh Seti I’s bodyguards. I owned more slaves that I care to repeat, but I treated them well.”
“I… that… how… you… Mum… ?” Alex stammered.
“Don’t worry, Alex. You’ll learn soon. Come on, let’s have some supper.” The two of them walked up the hall before sitting down and eating the good, filling food. The doe that Alex had killed the day previous and the fawn meat was on the table, as well as a paste of what looked like chick peas, round, flat bread, something made from eggplant, and a bunch of round, flat cracker like biscuits that were covered in herbs and spices. A bowl filled with a white and pale green substance was in the middle, and people used the sauce to cover a piece of flatbread then layer meat, the chickpea paste, the eggplant dish and some lettuce in before eating it like a Coney Island hot dog.
Alex loved the taste. It was complex, unlike anything he had ever had before. The wine made him slightly giddy, and he noticed that more of the periwinkle flowers were infusing the fruit drink.
“Dad, what are those?” Alex asked, pointing to the flowers, unconsciously reverting to ancient Egyptian.
“Those flowers are blue lotus. They give longer life and greater enjoyment of the length of life, Alexander,” Imhotep replied in the same language.
“They’re not poisonous?” Alex asked.
“Would I poison you?” Imhotep retorted. The table had gone silent, waiting to see where the conversation would go from there.
“Yes,” Alex replied without a pause.
“I see no reason for your death, and besides, I do not wish to make my sleeping couch the desert sands.” The ancient Priest’s face was completely serious; however there was a spark of what Alex surmised to be humor in his eyes.
“I certainly can,” Alex said, feeling very vindictive. This was the man who had stood calmly by as his mother had been killed. This was the man who had very nearly killed her himself. “One word. Anck-su-namun.”
“Kiron son of Senakhtenre!” Nefertiri cried. She was obviously in a rage. Imhotep pushed his way away from the table, and left the chamber to somewhere else. Nefertiri stood, grabbing Alex’ ear and hauling him away from the table, protesting and whining in pain the whole way to a new room, throwing him down onto a couch.
“Mum, who’s Kiron?”
“You. What by the Gods possessed you to say that, Kir—Alexander? You will apologize to Imhotep tomorrow morning. As for you—you will be spending tonight away from here. I cannot judge you fairly, for you tore me from Heaven and then just now severely hurt both me and my husband.”
“I… I tore you… Oh my God… I tore you from Heaven?” Alex asked, unable to comprehend the fate that he had subjected his beloved mother to. He would make this up to her, he had to. If he had to throw himself off of the cliffs and make himself a human sacrifice, he would. His mother’s Heaven would be avenged. He would not hurt her any more.
“Go, Kiron. Have dinner, then have your father take you to a room.” Nefertiri turned and walked out, by her carriage, she was beyond fuming. Alex couldn’t see a time when he would talk with his mother again. He had really messed things up, and he would be leaving in the morning to go to who knew where. Maybe back to England to be a RAF pilot. They always needed more fighters for the war against the Germans. He would die in valor and in service to his country. He had done enough running.
Celebwen Telcontar: Oh dear… Alex running away.
Balrog: (Grunts)
Readers: I don't know what to put here, so this is it! Please reply with your answer to what to say!!
Celebwen Telcontar: I need to fill in the faces and punctuation! Someone review, please! Please!
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