Caeru
05-04-2007, 08:06 AM
Lyric wanted me to post this :pottytrain5: Feedback welcome.
PART 1
Once upon a time, there was nothing but Nun: an ocean with no shore, the waves of which danced in their rise and fall in neverending darkness. Then, slowly, out of the waves started to emerge the original subtance, a mix of sand and slay, rising over the black water. And right on the top of this first island, an egg appeared… The egg cracked and cracked, until it broke completely and out of it jumped Re, the god of the Sun, in other name Amon, the father of all gods, and coated the world into his shining light. He did not rest for a while, put the entire world in order and created the god of Earth, Geb, and his sister Nut, the goddess of Heaven. Nut bent her enormous body in a vault, touching Geb with her hands and feet, and Shu, the god of Air and third child of Re, propped up her stomach, separating her from the Earth. The world as we know it came to existence.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egypt1-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egypt1.jpg
Amon rules over the gods and over the people, of which he especially favours the mighty kingdom of Egypt. Of course, he has too many duties to be able to be physically present on the Earth, therefore he had once chosen a representative, an incarnation of god on the Earth, to rule in Egypt and wear the symbol of Re´s eye. When he aged and left this world, kings of this first Pharao´s bloodline followed one after another. In the time when I was born, our kingdom was – safely, as I thought back then - in the hands of Akhenaton. Only his closest blood relatives and his wife, beautiful Djeserit, was allowed to call him by that name of course – for the rest of Egypt he was the Pharao, although some called him „Horus“ or „Mighty Bull.“
I called him father.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/savey-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/savey.jpg
It is said that royal children and wives are often the most uncared-for, and that seems to be natural, because the Pharao is very busy with watching over Maat in both Upper and Lower Egypt. Moreover, it was a custom if not duty for the Mighty Bull to spread his seed and grace the land with royal spawn. The Pharao would often keep a harem filled with hundreds of beauties from all around the world, sometimes several harems – one in each of the bigger cities along Nile where he liked to spend time, and it was not unusual for him to have several wives. My father differed vastly from this standard. In his wisdom, he knew that having more wives only leads to rivality and hathred in the family – certainly not an athmosphere one would like to live in, as well as having too many children is often the cause of wars, assassinations and courtly machinations as they fight for the throne. Therefore, he decided to keep our nuclear family small and it definitely did not seem like he suffered from the lack of fresh meat – quite on the contrary: after more than twenty henti spent together, he still loved my mother just the same and this love bound our small family together with ties that could never fall apart – or so I thought.
Already in my early childhood, I knew that as the only son, I would have to replace my father on the throne one day, for even the god on the Earth does not live forever and the bigger part of my day was always taken up by learning. At first I had to master the arti of reading and writing, given to us by Thovt, then I could be educated in history and geography of our kingdom. It is the fate of many sons of Egypt, to spend a big part of their childhood with preparation for the upcoming adulthood, but even so I was not denied the company of kids my age. Education with my tutor was avialable for everyone in the palace, and most of the children loved to learn.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egypt3.jpg
I grew up surrounded by love. Apart of the hours spent on studying and physical training, there was always time to make friends, go fishing or just sail down the river Nile, read in father´s scrolls, play with one of the many cats the palace was always full of, or spend an afternoon playing sennet and talking with my sister, Zahra. Her name means „flower“, but speaks nothing of her true beauty, which – at least for me – has always been undescribable. Zahra was born two years after me, but as far as I can remember, we have always been as close as twins, sharing every thought, every fear, every dream.
Of my parents, I´d always inclined more to my father than to my mother, mostly because of the interest in history that we had in common. Every since his teenage years, father had been nurturing the thought that it was his task to discover all the ancient tombs of kings of the Old Kingdom in Saqquara that had been robbed or damaged and forgotten in time, repair them and bring their owners peaceful rest and new fame. Usually, he would take a writer with him, several servants – those few that were not afraid of entering a place that belonged to the Death – and me. My mother didn´t approve of our trips into the desert, especially of the fact that I should obtain knowledge about death and afterlife as a mere teenager, but I was eager to learn and father was equally excited to gain an aide, a future priest, mage and historician just like himself.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egyptillusion1-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egyptillusion1.jpg
The tombs we were discovering lay in the middle of the desert, which alone made many a man want to avoid escorting the King on those trips. Myself, I loved the desert just as much as I loved the oasis or the Nile – another treat me and my father had in common. The heat was never too unbearable for me, and we remembered to always carry enough water, beer and a sheet under which we could hide over the noon, when Amon´s rays grew in intensity.
One day, walking a few steps ahead of our servants, we were enjoying a peaceful conversation, when my father suddenly stopped and pointed forwards towards the endless sea of dunes. I looked in that direction and my heart stopped beating in my chest… A woman was walking in front of us somewhere in the distance, her features clearly outlined in the shimmering, boiling air. „What is that?“ I whispered, grabbing my father´s arm, „fata morgana?“ Yet I already knew it cannot be a mere hallucination, because her tall, lean body was casting a shadow and sand behind her feet was rising in small dusty clouds as she moved. She was walking with such self-confidence and ease that one could spend ages just looking at the swaying of her hips and be heavenly happy. And, judging by the sight of father´s face, he was thinking the very same. Her dress was snowwhite, very old-fashioned in style, but that exactly made her so attractive because it tightly embraced her body, showing all curves and not leaving anything for imagination. I don´t know how long we were observing her, all I know is, that suddenly, the seductive figure disappeared – just like that, no smoke, no swirl of wind, no flash of lightening. She was simply there and a second later, she was gone, leaving no trace at all.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egypttomb.jpg
„The desert has its mysteries, Tumaini“, my father explained to me, „it is only upon the gods when and how it decides to reveal them to us. When it happens, you should not ignore them… They can help you discover the very meaning of your life.“ „But… who was she?“ „Who knows… Maybe a Goddess, maybe a ghost, maybe an omen. Let us follow her path!“
Our curiosity made it seem like ages of fruitless walking, during which we saw nothing unusual at all, just sand, sand and more sand… until finally my father tripped over something. When I looked down, I saw him brushing away the sand from something that looked like a large stone, yet it was too well-polished, too smooth to be one. I knelt down at my fathers side, helping him to clean more of the surface of that thing. A large stony area started to emerge under our hands, most likely the top of a tomb.
"She must have been a Goddess..." my father whispered, "a Goddess showing me the way..."
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/tombeg2-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/tombeg2.jpg
My father immediately gave out the needed directions and sent slaves into the desert to clean away the sand around the newly found tomb, choosing Afnet, his most dedicated servant, as the leader of the working group. Ten days passed before Afnet returned with the news that the Pharao´s find was now ready to be approached. Yet as he informed us about it, there was more fear than joy reflecting in his usually blank face. Father noticed it too and asked: „What is it, Afnet? Has something happened that I should know about?“ Afnet seemed to be hesistating for a while, shuffling his feet on the floor and coughing. „My King, it seems that the tomb has been untouched by robbers. We have found out that all the walls are still standing and there are no holes in them. Also the main entrance appears not to have been opened since the day when those dead inside had been left there. I have closely inspected the seal on the door and I dare to say that it is original. I would strongly advise to leave it as it is…“ „It´s not your place to advise, Afnet“, father said coldly, his eyes shining with a kind of passion only a devoted historician can know. „This evening, when I have finished all my duties, we shall open the tomb. Let everyone know. Those who are afraid can stay here, I won´t be forcing anyone to go against their beliefs.“
Those words were the caused that when darkness fell, me and my father were the only ones standing at the gate. I think he knew already back then that his doing was not entirely right, otherwise he would have simply ordered the members of our usual group to join us. After all, he was the Pharao. He had the power. Even I felt doubts eating me away from the inside, growing from minute to minute as we got closer to the tomb. The Death do not like to be disturbed. Fear was crawling to me across the desert sand like the demonic snake Apopis. „Dad, I´m afraid…“ I whispered hoarsely. „This is different than what we usually do…this place is untouched, still protected by the ancient magic. We should not commit the original sin. Please, let us go home…“
„Nonsense…“ the Pharao reached for his dagger and cut the rope with the seal in half, ready to open the door. „We are no thieves. We will simply look inside, then have the entire building repaired, and at the end we will seal the door again, leaving offerings for the Ka of whoever is resting inside and pray for the peace of his soul, as we always do. I promise we will do no damage.“
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/thomb.jpg
With joint powers, we started to push at the door, until finally it gave in and a little passage created itself on the side. Father used it to support himself and with a mighty push, we revealed the entire opening, out of which a greyish smoke started to rise in clouds, filling our lungs with its rotten stench and spiraling upwards: a bad omen. Carefully spying around for possible traps, we slowly entered and proceeded through the corridor, decorated with paintings of the gods, mainly Anubis with the head of a jackal – my patron, into the main room.
Father entered before me, and I could already hear his sigh as he stood framed in the door. Soon, I found out the reason of his disappiontment: the room was huge, with richly decorated walls – the paintings seemed to be from the age of the Old Kingdom – and a sarcophagus was leaning at the wall. Next to it, there was a massive chest – and that was that. „Apparently, the thieves did find a way to get inside, even though the door hadn´t been damaged…“ „Yes… Maybe a tunnel somewhere?“ I was pondering aloud, trying to get rid of other, very strange thoughts that were buzzing in my head like wild bees. The room didn´t look like if it had been robbed. It looked like if someone had left it empty for a reason… But what could the reason be? Noone wants to enter afterlife without possessions, without servants, without things he used to love when he was alive. Especially not a rich person who can afford all that and more - and this dead had been very rich. Inspecting the sarcophagus closely, it became clear to me that it must have been a princess... I run my finger over her name, written on the side: Meshhenet. Destiny.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egyptisss-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egyptisss.jpg
While I was bending over the mummy, my father walked up to the chest and opened it. I turned my head when I heard its creaking sounds only to see it was empty as well... but for a thing in the edge, which my father was already retrieving. A scroll. I watched his fingers wrapping around it and wanted to shout - careful, it might be too old, it might fall apart, but all at once, such a strong wave of nausea overcame me that I had to cover my mouth and stumble out of the tomb. Father emerged a while later, offering me his arm. "Are you allright? What happened?" "The air must have been too much for me..." I uttered, yet somehow I wasn´t sure if that was the case. "Let us go home then. This place was a disappointment. I will give orders for the works on the outer walls to start tomorrow, as soon as they are finished, we can do the offerings and close it."
The next morning, father was late for breakfest - a very unusual thing. Unexplicably worried after our night experience, I run to his bedroom to look if he was allright and found him crouched over the table, murmuring something under his breath. I did not understand the words, but as a magician-apprentice, I clearly recognized the mellodic rhytm that magic formulae often have. Father was not paying attention to me at all and it seemed obvious that he had spent the entire night in the same position. Unnoticed, I walked closer to the table, peering over his shoulder. "Oh no... Father, you did not!" As I spoke, he finally raised his head with a smile. "Tumaini! Maybe you could help me with translating this..." "Is this the scroll from the tomb? Is this it??" My question was mostly rhetorical, because I recognized too well, what it was. "You know how dangerous it is to take away things that belong to the Dead. Do you want us to be cursed?" "Tumaini, stop behaving like a supersticious old woman. I will simply make a copy of it, try to translate it and then I will return it where we found it." I just shook my head. This was the first time in my life when father was behaving illogically, and I didn´t like it one bit.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egmett.jpg
I questioned him about the scroll several times until he finally told me after a few days that he had returned it into its chest without being able to translate it completely. I happily forgot about it - sun was shining and my 20th birthday was approaching. I had all the reasons to forget about the Dead for a while and drink from the cup of life with big gulps.
One beautiful afternoon, father took me to the market place - we occasionally liked to visit the city and see its daily life and buzz, so different from the life in the palace. We spent a while talking about my possible marriage and buying a few needless fandangles just for the fun of it, when suddenly I felt a tug on my tunic. I looked at father and saw he was trying to make me focus on a woman who was crossing the market place, heading towards us. And we both recognized the figure, the accomplished style of walking, those hips, wrapped in a richer, yet still old-fashioned tunic, the hair, now revealing a face that matched the rest of her amazing body.
I thought that was it... I thought we would return home and talk about her during the meal, laughing as we usually did. How wrong I was! For the second time that month, father did something that came as a nasty surprise for me. He stopped her and asked her prize.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egwed-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egwed.jpg
Immediately, I forgot how charmed I had been myself when I first saw her and a wave of hate started to form itself deep in my heart. Apparently, she was no goddess or vision, but a mere widow of good bloodline who had moved into the city after the passing of her husband. A woman who used to live in a damp place and loves the desert sun... loves walking in it. A woman too proud to be a concubine.
Who would have thought that a single encounter in the sand could change so much? Father wanted her so badly that he did not hesistate to offer marriage, where money would not do. Instead of celebrating my birthday, we had a wedding to plan. No matter how much my mother, my sister and I disagreed, the Pharao had his way and the household forcefully grew in number. I did not recognize my father. During the last month, he was slowly mutating into a different kind of person in front of my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/TIL3.jpg
TO BE CONTINUED
PART 1
Once upon a time, there was nothing but Nun: an ocean with no shore, the waves of which danced in their rise and fall in neverending darkness. Then, slowly, out of the waves started to emerge the original subtance, a mix of sand and slay, rising over the black water. And right on the top of this first island, an egg appeared… The egg cracked and cracked, until it broke completely and out of it jumped Re, the god of the Sun, in other name Amon, the father of all gods, and coated the world into his shining light. He did not rest for a while, put the entire world in order and created the god of Earth, Geb, and his sister Nut, the goddess of Heaven. Nut bent her enormous body in a vault, touching Geb with her hands and feet, and Shu, the god of Air and third child of Re, propped up her stomach, separating her from the Earth. The world as we know it came to existence.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egypt1-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egypt1.jpg
Amon rules over the gods and over the people, of which he especially favours the mighty kingdom of Egypt. Of course, he has too many duties to be able to be physically present on the Earth, therefore he had once chosen a representative, an incarnation of god on the Earth, to rule in Egypt and wear the symbol of Re´s eye. When he aged and left this world, kings of this first Pharao´s bloodline followed one after another. In the time when I was born, our kingdom was – safely, as I thought back then - in the hands of Akhenaton. Only his closest blood relatives and his wife, beautiful Djeserit, was allowed to call him by that name of course – for the rest of Egypt he was the Pharao, although some called him „Horus“ or „Mighty Bull.“
I called him father.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/savey-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/savey.jpg
It is said that royal children and wives are often the most uncared-for, and that seems to be natural, because the Pharao is very busy with watching over Maat in both Upper and Lower Egypt. Moreover, it was a custom if not duty for the Mighty Bull to spread his seed and grace the land with royal spawn. The Pharao would often keep a harem filled with hundreds of beauties from all around the world, sometimes several harems – one in each of the bigger cities along Nile where he liked to spend time, and it was not unusual for him to have several wives. My father differed vastly from this standard. In his wisdom, he knew that having more wives only leads to rivality and hathred in the family – certainly not an athmosphere one would like to live in, as well as having too many children is often the cause of wars, assassinations and courtly machinations as they fight for the throne. Therefore, he decided to keep our nuclear family small and it definitely did not seem like he suffered from the lack of fresh meat – quite on the contrary: after more than twenty henti spent together, he still loved my mother just the same and this love bound our small family together with ties that could never fall apart – or so I thought.
Already in my early childhood, I knew that as the only son, I would have to replace my father on the throne one day, for even the god on the Earth does not live forever and the bigger part of my day was always taken up by learning. At first I had to master the arti of reading and writing, given to us by Thovt, then I could be educated in history and geography of our kingdom. It is the fate of many sons of Egypt, to spend a big part of their childhood with preparation for the upcoming adulthood, but even so I was not denied the company of kids my age. Education with my tutor was avialable for everyone in the palace, and most of the children loved to learn.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egypt3.jpg
I grew up surrounded by love. Apart of the hours spent on studying and physical training, there was always time to make friends, go fishing or just sail down the river Nile, read in father´s scrolls, play with one of the many cats the palace was always full of, or spend an afternoon playing sennet and talking with my sister, Zahra. Her name means „flower“, but speaks nothing of her true beauty, which – at least for me – has always been undescribable. Zahra was born two years after me, but as far as I can remember, we have always been as close as twins, sharing every thought, every fear, every dream.
Of my parents, I´d always inclined more to my father than to my mother, mostly because of the interest in history that we had in common. Every since his teenage years, father had been nurturing the thought that it was his task to discover all the ancient tombs of kings of the Old Kingdom in Saqquara that had been robbed or damaged and forgotten in time, repair them and bring their owners peaceful rest and new fame. Usually, he would take a writer with him, several servants – those few that were not afraid of entering a place that belonged to the Death – and me. My mother didn´t approve of our trips into the desert, especially of the fact that I should obtain knowledge about death and afterlife as a mere teenager, but I was eager to learn and father was equally excited to gain an aide, a future priest, mage and historician just like himself.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egyptillusion1-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egyptillusion1.jpg
The tombs we were discovering lay in the middle of the desert, which alone made many a man want to avoid escorting the King on those trips. Myself, I loved the desert just as much as I loved the oasis or the Nile – another treat me and my father had in common. The heat was never too unbearable for me, and we remembered to always carry enough water, beer and a sheet under which we could hide over the noon, when Amon´s rays grew in intensity.
One day, walking a few steps ahead of our servants, we were enjoying a peaceful conversation, when my father suddenly stopped and pointed forwards towards the endless sea of dunes. I looked in that direction and my heart stopped beating in my chest… A woman was walking in front of us somewhere in the distance, her features clearly outlined in the shimmering, boiling air. „What is that?“ I whispered, grabbing my father´s arm, „fata morgana?“ Yet I already knew it cannot be a mere hallucination, because her tall, lean body was casting a shadow and sand behind her feet was rising in small dusty clouds as she moved. She was walking with such self-confidence and ease that one could spend ages just looking at the swaying of her hips and be heavenly happy. And, judging by the sight of father´s face, he was thinking the very same. Her dress was snowwhite, very old-fashioned in style, but that exactly made her so attractive because it tightly embraced her body, showing all curves and not leaving anything for imagination. I don´t know how long we were observing her, all I know is, that suddenly, the seductive figure disappeared – just like that, no smoke, no swirl of wind, no flash of lightening. She was simply there and a second later, she was gone, leaving no trace at all.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egypttomb.jpg
„The desert has its mysteries, Tumaini“, my father explained to me, „it is only upon the gods when and how it decides to reveal them to us. When it happens, you should not ignore them… They can help you discover the very meaning of your life.“ „But… who was she?“ „Who knows… Maybe a Goddess, maybe a ghost, maybe an omen. Let us follow her path!“
Our curiosity made it seem like ages of fruitless walking, during which we saw nothing unusual at all, just sand, sand and more sand… until finally my father tripped over something. When I looked down, I saw him brushing away the sand from something that looked like a large stone, yet it was too well-polished, too smooth to be one. I knelt down at my fathers side, helping him to clean more of the surface of that thing. A large stony area started to emerge under our hands, most likely the top of a tomb.
"She must have been a Goddess..." my father whispered, "a Goddess showing me the way..."
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/tombeg2-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/tombeg2.jpg
My father immediately gave out the needed directions and sent slaves into the desert to clean away the sand around the newly found tomb, choosing Afnet, his most dedicated servant, as the leader of the working group. Ten days passed before Afnet returned with the news that the Pharao´s find was now ready to be approached. Yet as he informed us about it, there was more fear than joy reflecting in his usually blank face. Father noticed it too and asked: „What is it, Afnet? Has something happened that I should know about?“ Afnet seemed to be hesistating for a while, shuffling his feet on the floor and coughing. „My King, it seems that the tomb has been untouched by robbers. We have found out that all the walls are still standing and there are no holes in them. Also the main entrance appears not to have been opened since the day when those dead inside had been left there. I have closely inspected the seal on the door and I dare to say that it is original. I would strongly advise to leave it as it is…“ „It´s not your place to advise, Afnet“, father said coldly, his eyes shining with a kind of passion only a devoted historician can know. „This evening, when I have finished all my duties, we shall open the tomb. Let everyone know. Those who are afraid can stay here, I won´t be forcing anyone to go against their beliefs.“
Those words were the caused that when darkness fell, me and my father were the only ones standing at the gate. I think he knew already back then that his doing was not entirely right, otherwise he would have simply ordered the members of our usual group to join us. After all, he was the Pharao. He had the power. Even I felt doubts eating me away from the inside, growing from minute to minute as we got closer to the tomb. The Death do not like to be disturbed. Fear was crawling to me across the desert sand like the demonic snake Apopis. „Dad, I´m afraid…“ I whispered hoarsely. „This is different than what we usually do…this place is untouched, still protected by the ancient magic. We should not commit the original sin. Please, let us go home…“
„Nonsense…“ the Pharao reached for his dagger and cut the rope with the seal in half, ready to open the door. „We are no thieves. We will simply look inside, then have the entire building repaired, and at the end we will seal the door again, leaving offerings for the Ka of whoever is resting inside and pray for the peace of his soul, as we always do. I promise we will do no damage.“
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/thomb.jpg
With joint powers, we started to push at the door, until finally it gave in and a little passage created itself on the side. Father used it to support himself and with a mighty push, we revealed the entire opening, out of which a greyish smoke started to rise in clouds, filling our lungs with its rotten stench and spiraling upwards: a bad omen. Carefully spying around for possible traps, we slowly entered and proceeded through the corridor, decorated with paintings of the gods, mainly Anubis with the head of a jackal – my patron, into the main room.
Father entered before me, and I could already hear his sigh as he stood framed in the door. Soon, I found out the reason of his disappiontment: the room was huge, with richly decorated walls – the paintings seemed to be from the age of the Old Kingdom – and a sarcophagus was leaning at the wall. Next to it, there was a massive chest – and that was that. „Apparently, the thieves did find a way to get inside, even though the door hadn´t been damaged…“ „Yes… Maybe a tunnel somewhere?“ I was pondering aloud, trying to get rid of other, very strange thoughts that were buzzing in my head like wild bees. The room didn´t look like if it had been robbed. It looked like if someone had left it empty for a reason… But what could the reason be? Noone wants to enter afterlife without possessions, without servants, without things he used to love when he was alive. Especially not a rich person who can afford all that and more - and this dead had been very rich. Inspecting the sarcophagus closely, it became clear to me that it must have been a princess... I run my finger over her name, written on the side: Meshhenet. Destiny.
http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egyptisss-1.jpg
bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egyptisss.jpg
While I was bending over the mummy, my father walked up to the chest and opened it. I turned my head when I heard its creaking sounds only to see it was empty as well... but for a thing in the edge, which my father was already retrieving. A scroll. I watched his fingers wrapping around it and wanted to shout - careful, it might be too old, it might fall apart, but all at once, such a strong wave of nausea overcame me that I had to cover my mouth and stumble out of the tomb. Father emerged a while later, offering me his arm. "Are you allright? What happened?" "The air must have been too much for me..." I uttered, yet somehow I wasn´t sure if that was the case. "Let us go home then. This place was a disappointment. I will give orders for the works on the outer walls to start tomorrow, as soon as they are finished, we can do the offerings and close it."
The next morning, father was late for breakfest - a very unusual thing. Unexplicably worried after our night experience, I run to his bedroom to look if he was allright and found him crouched over the table, murmuring something under his breath. I did not understand the words, but as a magician-apprentice, I clearly recognized the mellodic rhytm that magic formulae often have. Father was not paying attention to me at all and it seemed obvious that he had spent the entire night in the same position. Unnoticed, I walked closer to the table, peering over his shoulder. "Oh no... Father, you did not!" As I spoke, he finally raised his head with a smile. "Tumaini! Maybe you could help me with translating this..." "Is this the scroll from the tomb? Is this it??" My question was mostly rhetorical, because I recognized too well, what it was. "You know how dangerous it is to take away things that belong to the Dead. Do you want us to be cursed?" "Tumaini, stop behaving like a supersticious old woman. I will simply make a copy of it, try to translate it and then I will return it where we found it." I just shook my head. This was the first time in my life when father was behaving illogically, and I didn´t like it one bit.
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I questioned him about the scroll several times until he finally told me after a few days that he had returned it into its chest without being able to translate it completely. I happily forgot about it - sun was shining and my 20th birthday was approaching. I had all the reasons to forget about the Dead for a while and drink from the cup of life with big gulps.
One beautiful afternoon, father took me to the market place - we occasionally liked to visit the city and see its daily life and buzz, so different from the life in the palace. We spent a while talking about my possible marriage and buying a few needless fandangles just for the fun of it, when suddenly I felt a tug on my tunic. I looked at father and saw he was trying to make me focus on a woman who was crossing the market place, heading towards us. And we both recognized the figure, the accomplished style of walking, those hips, wrapped in a richer, yet still old-fashioned tunic, the hair, now revealing a face that matched the rest of her amazing body.
I thought that was it... I thought we would return home and talk about her during the meal, laughing as we usually did. How wrong I was! For the second time that month, father did something that came as a nasty surprise for me. He stopped her and asked her prize.
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bigger, pls click: http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i222/pellaz_har_aralis/egwed.jpg
Immediately, I forgot how charmed I had been myself when I first saw her and a wave of hate started to form itself deep in my heart. Apparently, she was no goddess or vision, but a mere widow of good bloodline who had moved into the city after the passing of her husband. A woman who used to live in a damp place and loves the desert sun... loves walking in it. A woman too proud to be a concubine.
Who would have thought that a single encounter in the sand could change so much? Father wanted her so badly that he did not hesistate to offer marriage, where money would not do. Instead of celebrating my birthday, we had a wedding to plan. No matter how much my mother, my sister and I disagreed, the Pharao had his way and the household forcefully grew in number. I did not recognize my father. During the last month, he was slowly mutating into a different kind of person in front of my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
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TO BE CONTINUED