Due to the changes in Rathera's character, this story needed editing ;-) So here it is, totally changed!!!!
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Disclaimer:: The basic MA characters are not mine. By Bes, do I really have to say this??? They barely even appear in the story, for Seth's sake! Everyone else is my own creation, and I am very proud of them. So if you use them, credit me with their creation and ask my approval. OR ELSE!!!!!
Author's Notes: I'd like to think my writing- along with Rathera's character- has developed and matured since the original of this. Please take a moment to read through since the changes and tell me what you think!
PS: Contains quite a bit of disturbing imagery. If it were a movie, I believe it would be rated PG or PG-13.
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The wife of Arathak lay asleep in her chambers, her neck lifted on an ornate headrest carved with glyphs of protection. Her name - Sernra - was etched into a cartouche in the center, with the winged lady Isis depicted on either side, their arms spread protectively around it.
A woven mat of papyrus reeds was spread over the sandy floor under her, the match for another which lay in the corner. Arathak himself slept sprawled upon this mat, having surrendered to his exhaustion sometime during his midnight vigil over his pregnant wife.
Sernra's stomach bulged only slightly with the life within, where a male child developed quickly, demonstrating the impatience that would characterize him throughout his life. He was not to be a follower of Isis like his parents had been, and perhaps that is why the Lady of 1000 names withdrew her protection from him and his family on this night.
And indeed, great Isis's protection was lacking this night, for a white clad figure slipped into the room, easily breaking the barriers of magic and prayer that should have protected the sleeping couple. The man knelt beside Sernra, smiling with satisfaction. "Perfect," he murmured, "She shall be a fine host for my newest creation."
His eyes sparkled as he traced a symbol of magic over the woman's womb. Inside the sleeping woman, a small female, born with the spirit of the royal cobra, began her existence- exactly as the man had planned.
"Serpent born..." He whispered, and pulled a small amulet, black opal with a golden cobra entwined about it, from a pouch around his neck. Placing it near the lady's head, he watched as it melted into the rug, awaiting the call of the one it had been made for. Smiling, the man strolled out. There was no further trace of his passage.
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Four year old Rathera Mutemwiya fought back exhaustion as she hauled the next load of papyrus mats over to the wall. She methodically beat them against the clay, cleaning the sand from the rugs. Trying to ignore the yells of her mother, Sernra, from inside, she sat down on one of the mats for a moment of rest. As her hand smoothed out the rough surface, she felt her hand rest on something heated from the sun. Lifting it in her sunburned hand, she saw an intricate amulet of Merserger, the snake goddess. Hastily she let go of it, but it flew back into her hand of its own volition.
With a nervous glance back at the house, Rathera hastily concealed the amulet within the folds of her kilt. She returned to her work wondering what price the amulet might fetch in the market, if she could sell it- perhaps enough to feed her for days! But for some reason, she did not wish to part with it. It seemed meant for her, in a way she could not comprehend yet.
The shrill voice of her mother called her inside. Hurriedly gathering up the mats, she stumbled inside.
Hidden in the folds of her dusty kilt, the amulet emanated a dark glow...
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Rathera burst out the open entrance to her home, her bare feet imprinting on the desert sand as she ran towards the Nile river. Tears streaked down her sandy cheeks, and lines of blood drew across her back where her father's whip had made its mark. Her eyes, normally the black of the sky when Ra had withdrawn into the underworld, faded into a light brown that matched her tanned skin. A tattered kilt billowed about her weak, thin legs, crafted of the same rough linen as the ripped tunic she wore over it.
A gentle hand touched Rathera's arm. She turned, instinctively grasping her small sword. Her grip relaxed when she saw the face of her brother peering down at her, a sad smile on his fine boned features.
Sighing with relief, Rathera asked suspiciously, "What are you doing home so early, Rath? Surely you would not dare skip a lesson at scribe school? Father would beat you!"
Grinning with obvious pride, Rath replied happily, "Master Hor-aten dismissed me early today, he is so pleased with my progress towards becoming a true disciple of Thoth."
Rathera smiled tightly, remembering when the scribe teacher had refused to take her, an ignorant female, as a pupil. She was supposed to train as a priestess of Hathor instead- in truth, she should be at the temple now with the rest of the novices. But the dull career of a simpering devotee to the goddess of wine and music hardly interested Rathera, and she had opted instead to beg lessons from Rath in the way of the scribes.
Of course, all those dreams had come crashing down when Rathera's mother had caught her copying the spell for earth manipulation earlier in the morning when she should have been tending to her duties around the house. The sound beating which had ensued left her back aching even now, hours later.
Rath's green eyes bored into his sister. He murmured, "You shouldn't provoke her so, you know."
"I shouldn't provoke HER??!! It is she who tries to.. to squelch my spirit, to doom me to a life of mediocrity. She knows the magic flows through my blood as strongly as it does through yours. But she won't let me learn to harness it!!!!!!"
Regarding her sternly, Rath took his mother's side, "It is not a lady's place to..."
Rathera winced. "A lady's place, you say? Then what is a lady's place? Scrubbing floors in the temple of that drunken whore of a goddess, Hathor??"
"You will speak of the gods with respect, Rathera, else you will surely fall from their favor!" He sighed with exasperation. "Whether you choose to ignore this opportunity at the temple is your business, but you must find something to do with yourself. I don't have time to teach you any of the scribe's art."
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Latter that day, Rathera joined her friends in their games, but her heart was not in it. She wanted to feel again the power that she had stolen precious grains of in her hours of study late in the nights. She was only six years old, but her hunger for knowledge went far beyond childish imaginings. Why couldn't her mother see that? Why couldn't Rath?
Atken understood. He was betrothed to her, and had been since they were born. As much as she hated her parents dictating this most personal decision, she had grown rather fond of Atken. She wasn't sure she loved him. She didn't really understand what love was yet. She knew her father and mother didn't love each other- their arguments could last for days, and father left on trips to the pharaoh's court as often as he could.
But she thought she could grow to love Atken.
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Running nimbly across the burning desert sands, the eight children threw themselves into the excitement of a mock battle. Their expressions filled with innocent glee, the youngsters reenacted one of the famous conflicts between Seth and Horus. Atken, now a tall and rather gangly fellow for his age of eight years, had taken the role of Horus- and backed up his claim to this honor with the short sword strapped upon his back. Atken appeared to be having some difficulty concentrating on the battle, as his gaze kept drifting longingly to one of the four females engaged in the mock war.The girl whom Atken watched with such adoration had pulled away from her fellow combatants for a moment, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. Her black hair glistened with sweat under the stifling heat of Ra's light. At her side, a young, plainly clad girl wielding a sling and a bag of rocked turned around in concern. "Are you alright, Rathera?"
Although she looked exhausted, the girl, whose name was indeed Rathera, managed a twisted smile at her questioner, Raema. Inwardly, anger rose in her heart, for Rathera hated being reminded of her weakness; her inferiority to her comrades. Yet she forgave Raema for mentioning it, as they had been the closest of friends since both were but a few floods old. Rathera could not get mad at Raema over such a trivial concern.
Knowing well that Rathera had no intention of replying to her query, Raema turned back to half heartedly fulfill her role as Isis in the mock battle. Wiping her brow and drawing her own small but well crafted sword, Rathera did the same, falling into her role as Nephythys, goddess of death, as easily as if she had been born with the power and wisdom of the mighty goddess. Her only 'out of character' movement was to smile lovingly at Atken, who returned the gesture timidly.
Raema noticed the wordless communication between the pair with an emotion akin to jealousy. Atken and Rathera were to be married when they came of age, the arrangements having been made when both were barely out of the womb. Yet it was common knowledge that mutual affection bound the pair together as much as their parents' agreement. It wasn't fair!
Not nearly so lucky, Raema was to be married in three years, to an old noble who had served the pharaoh as Great Scribe before his recent removal from that position into a quieter life as a common temple scribe. Now, the vile man spent most of his time lounging about with his many concubines. Recently his wife had died, supposedly of sickness, but everyone knew she had been beaten to death. Raema was to replace her, a questionable honor.
A cool touch on her bare shoulder awakened Raema from her silent ponderings. Turning reflexively, Raema found herself facing the very man she had been thinking about. His calculating gaze bored into her soul, as he spoke one gentle word. Raema felt the ground give way beneath her feet, falling into a long tunnel while sounds of the man's laughter echoed in her mind. Closing the tunnel behind her, the man disappeared.
Wheeling around just in time to see Raema enveloped below the sands, Rathera gasped in astonishment. Beckoning for the others to join her, she rushed over to look for some sign of her friend. Atken was instantly at her side, followed closely by their companions.
Putting one ear to the ground, Rathera listened anxiously for Raema, her breath caught in her throat. After what seemed like hours to the nervous girl, a faint cry echoed out to her as Raema shouted irritably, "Isn't this just my luck? Everything always happens to me... I don't suppose any of you can get me out of here?"
Frowning in concentration, Rathera drew herself to her feet and took a step backward from where Raema had disappeared. She began to chant softly, her words flowing through her shaking body into the ground beneath her. Rathera's green and untainted magic slipped from her outstretched fingers to light the sand before her, splitting it neatly.
Unfortunately, Rathera still had little control of her powers. The hole widened, enveloping the entire group and wiping Rathera's self satisfied smirk from her lips. Rathera braced herself as she plummeted downward beside Raema, hearing muffled shrieks as the others followed her.
Recovering quickly, Rathera pulled herself to her feet, looking around at her friends. To Rathera's untrained eye they seemed to have been affected by some sort of magic, and were now drifting off to sleep before her. Feeling her own scant hold on consciousness slip, Rathera sank to the ground- and into darkness.
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In her mind, Rathera traveled through the kingdom of Osiris, prince of the dead. She came to face a strange being whose face was the towering cliffs; whose eyes were slabs of limestone; whose body was the land itself. Trembling in awe, Rathera sank to her knees before the overwhelming visage, writhing as his hollow laughter shook over her and bored into her soul.
The figure peered down at her curiously, apparently amused by her terror. In a softer, almost gentler tone than before, the creature said, "Greetings, daughter of Sernra. I am Geb." Rathera gasped, recognizing Geb as the name of the all powerful lord of Earth. Again Geb spoke, an undercurrent of sarcasm in his tone, "You seem to me to have run across a bit of trouble." A cool, confident smile crossed his stone features.
Narrowing her eyes but attempting to appear calm and subdued, Rathera dared to question tentatively, "Oh supreme Lord of Earth, why would a powerful deity such as yourself be concerned with me, a mere child?" She swallowed back her pride and managed to whisper the phrase which had haunted her throughout her short life, "I am no one of importance..."
Geb's angry look as she said this startled Rathera, sending her scampering backwards in a hopeless effort to escape his domain. Realizing the futility of her attempt, Rathera stopped, awaiting the blast which would end her existence.
Yet none came, for Geb simply stated conversationally, "That is true, young one. Yet it is your very lack of rank or importance which intrigues me. These next coming years are of particular interest to the gods, and all children with any talent have been snatched up by patron gods and goddesses to serve them in the coming situation. You yourself have latent Earth magic which, if trained properly, could become quite potent."
Rathera stared up at him in shock, stammering, "But... but my parents tested me for magic, and claimed I had none of worth..."
Geb's voice thundered over the mountainside, "Do you DARE doubt MY word?" Ignoring Rathera's frantically murmured apologies, Geb continued, "Now, it is true that most of the children destined for the coming fights have already begun their training. Yet I would be willing to take you into my service, and teach you myself in the ways of the earth."
Rathera's eyes widened, hope shining in the black pupils. "Truly?" The excitement in her voice was clear. "Why would I refuse? I would love to enter your service..."
Even as Rathera spoke, she felt herself being pulled back to consciousness. A small amulet was pushed into her resisting hands as she slowly returned to the mortal realm.
The last sound she heard was a warning cry from Geb, "Beware the games of the Council! Always they are to the death!"
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Rathera opened her eyes, overcome with dizziness. She sighed with relief as her gaze rested on each of her companions who stood around her, watching her nervously. She might be far from her home, trapped in some Ra forsaken cavern, but at least she was with her friends. And in her innocence, Rathera felt that was all that mattered. Atken touched her hand gently, whispering, "We thought Anubis had taken you! By Horus, don't scare us like that- don't scare me like that." Rathera nodded drowsily, still trying to come to terms with her surroundings. The alcove where she lay was cramped and poorly lit. No visible exit existed, and trying to draw upon her inner magic Rathera felt strong wards blocking her power. Footsteps sounded behind her- no, to the right of her- she could not tell where. Yet she sensed the approach of the masters of this place- and she did not trust them. Feeling a sudden pain in her hand, Rathera looked down and realized she was still clasping the amulet Geb had forced upon her. The amulet was very small, forged of gold in the shape of the Tree of Life. It glowed with a soft yet persistent light, and Rathera felt it mold into her flesh. It disappeared inside her hand, and again Rathera felt the words of Geb flow through her being. Geb's words were harsh, and imprinted upon her memory. "Sapling, you have much to learn in this short time. A group of warriors approaches to take yourself and the rest of your companions to battle for the right to survive. No matter what terms they claim rule the fight, remember well: the only winner; the only survivor; is she who destroys her companions and remains alive. Act on this and this alone! The fate of the others does not concern you, and you must not tell them of this- remember, you now answer to MY orders!" The voice faded, yet Rathera could not shake Geb's command from her mind. Some of her distress must have shown on her face, for across from her Raema's face was lined with confusion- and mistrust. Raema had seen the mysterious amulet appear in Rathera's hand, and took it for a sign that her companion had forged some deal with their unseen captors. For the first time in their friendship, Raema suddenly knew she could not trust Rathera. The realization fell over her, and she lowered her gaze, unable to meet Rathera's eyes. Her chest tightening, Raema wondered angrily if their friendship had merely been a hoax. Habitually reading her friend's expression and guessing the thoughts that lay behind it, Rathera shuddered. The mere idea of losing her closest friend and almost sister was nearly enough to set Rathera weeping. Yet she felt Geb's order run again through her mind, and, bowing her head, Rathera remained silent. Interrupting Rathera's contemplation, a group of heavily armored soldiers appeared and surrounded the cluster of children. Each soldier carried a sword and spear. Quickly hiding the amulet in her blouse, Rathera studied the nearest of their captors. Her gaze fell upon the amulet clasped tightly around the soldier's neck. Glancing about, Rathera saw that each of the guards wore one. When one of them accidentally broke formation, their amulet would turn an eerie red and the soldier would hasten to correct their stance. Two of the soldiers came up from behind Rathera and prodded her back with their spears. Fighting back a yelp of pain, Rathera rose to her feet, moving out the door at the soldiers' prompting. The others were in similar predicaments, and Rathera blushed at Atken's cursing from behind her, just out of sight. No words were spoken as the group began their journey through the newly revealed tunnel. Rathera longed to speak a word of comfort to Atken, but dared not- she did not want to test the patience of the tall guard behind her. "Stop here." The one female soldier ordered abruptly. Looking up, Rathera gasped in awe. They had emerged into a practical underground city! Scores of people, well dressed and all wearing the same type of amulet as the soldiers, milled about the large antechamber the children had been prodded into. A passage through the crowd opened before them, and the soldier gestured for them to continue. Herded towards the large platform in the middle of the room, the group of children were pushed into a large metal cage in the very center. Hearing the snap of a lock behind her, Rathera knew that they were trapped. Grasping the bars and peering out, Rathera looked over the vast crowd. She could not make out any individual faces in the sea of people. Abruptly, the crowd again parted, and Rathera craned her neck to see the man who approached. The man was unnaturally tall. Black hair rested about his broad shoulders, hanging down past the collar of his golden cape. In one pale hand he clasped a staff of pure gold, topped with a blood red crystal. Under his billowing robe he wore a strange robe of the same blood red. His eyes matched the gold of his cape, revealing nothing- reflecting everything. Rathera's whole body went tensed as that inhuman gaze rested upon her. Shuddering with fright, she backed away from the bars to huddle with her friends. The man laughed quietly, floating up to the platform beside the cage. Raising one ornamented hand for silence, the man shouted in a high, arrogant voice, "Chosen of the Council, today we again add to our ranks! From this group of pathetic *children* we plan to select another for our glorious army!" There was no applause, only muffled sighs and pained groans from the audience. The imposing man now turned his chilling gaze directly on the children. Quietly he commanded, "Fight, or suffer the consequences." None of the children moved. Rathera, Geb's message echoing in her head, still knew she could not send any of her friends early to Anubis. How could Geb expect her to slay these youthful companions, who had supported her through the constant cruelty of her father and the scorn of most others? A mocking smile crossed the man's face as he watched the children hesitate. Gesturing to the collared man at his side, he ordered, "Kill one of the weaker ones, they'd be no use to us regardless." Nodding harshly, the collared man knelt by a clay urn at his side. Opening the lid cautiously, he reached within and drew out a golden cobra. Holding it carefully aloft, the man moved slowly alongside the cage, studying each child intently. His gaze fell upon Rathera, and he met her eyes with a look that Rathera could only describe as pity. Yet he advanced, sinking to his knees and gently placing the cobra in the cage beside her. Folding his arms, he waited silently. Rathera froze in place as the cobra slithered near. None of her friends dared move to aid her, for fear of startling the cobra into striking. Sweat trickled down her forehead as she felt the cobra's scales brush past her leg. Her instincts screamed for her to move away, but she forced her body to remain still as the cobra's fangs grazed her skin. Moving her lips in a soundless prayer to Geb, Rathera felt a heat against her chest. The serpent charm she had found so many years ago glowed darkly as the cobra approached. Rathera waited for the cobra's venomous fangs to break her flesh. They did not penetrate, however, and the cobra seemed to hiss inside Rathera's mind. Words formed within the high pitched hiss, as if the serpent was speaking to her, "Greetings, kin sister." The cobra nodded to Rathera, or at least that was how it appeared to the girl. Nonetheless, it moved away. Sighing in relief, Rathera slumped back into the bars of the cage, tired from some unknown exertion. Her head drooped forward, and she closed her eyes to the harsh lights of the chamber. She did not see the cobra approach Atken. ------------- The alarmed cries of Raema alerted Rathera to Atken's plight. The boy sprawled on the cage floor, shaking with fear and pain. Looking at him in confusion, Rathera saw the cobra slither across his bare chest, leaving the cage to rejoin its master. The man picked up the snake warily, and returned it to its urn. Even the grandly attired lord who seemed to be the most powerful among them kept his distance from the cobra, fearing its poison as he feared no other. The door to the cage opened, but none of the children made a move to attempt escape. They were surrounded by armed men and women, and it was clear any such effort would be a waste of not only their energy but perhaps their lives. Two guards, whom Rathera recognized as having led the children to this place, strode inside and grabbed Atken roughly. They dragged him out of the cage and slammed it shut behind him, ignoring the soft cries of both Atken and Rathera. Atken, his body weakened by the poison of the cobra and his own exhaustion, barely moaned as he was dropped unceremoniously outside. Outside...? Yes, this was the familiar sand of the desert he felt beneath him. He was free, then- Not that it mattered. Once before he had seen a man of the village struck by a venomous cobra, and he had not lived out the week. Being much smaller than that man, Atken did not expect to live the day. Rolling over into a fetal position, he closed his eyes and sank into unconsciousness. ------------- The seven remaining children exchanged frightened glances, unsure of what they were to do but not wishing to suffer Atken's fate. Rathera sat shaking in the corner of the cage, not caring if she were next to die. But Geb's voice entered her mind, and she felt herself losing control of her own muscles. Standing up, she drew her sword and turned to the others. Rathera knew as the battle began that she was too frail to survive such an outright confrontation. Already she felt her strength lapsing and her sword strokes growing smaller and more defensive. Before she could consciously consider a plan of action, Rathera sheathed her sword, much to the surprise of the boy she fought. Drawing a dagger, a gift from Rath, from within the folds of her kilt, Rathera thrust it with the speed of a striking cobra into his heart. He fell without a cry escaping his lips. Tears filling her eyes, Rathera pulled her dagger from the poor boy's corpse and readied it bleakly. She was sickened by her own actions but filled with the insistence of Geb's commands. Looking at the dagger in her hand, Rathera sighed softly. Fangs, she thought sadly, fangs fit only for the cobra who strikes without warning in a cowardly manner. Yet that was unimportant now. With a calm and controlled throw that was so different from the anguish and disorder in her heart, Rathera threw the dagger into the heart of the girl- she refused to think of her as a friend, as a person, lest her heart waver- who fought at Raema's side. Only two other combatants were left, and Rathera felt too sick to go and again retrieve her dagger. Leaning against the side of the cage to watch this fight so she could deal with the victor, Rathera saw Raema knock her opponent to the ground with her staff. Raema turned, and suppressed a cry of horror at the sight of her fallen companions. She had not truly believed that they would kill each other! She had tried so hard not to hurt her friends, but they were lying around her... dead. All but one. Rathera. Driven wild by anger and sorrow, Raema lunged at Rathera with her staff, putting all the force of her rage behind the blow. The attack was ill aimed, however, and Rathera calmly pranced out of range. Moving quickly, Rathera danced around Raema, coming up behind her friend. Rathera's sword came into her hand of her own volition, and she struck Raema a glancing blow which knocked the girl off her feet. Rathera prepared to strike Raema through the heart and end the battle, but was frozen mid swing by her friend's expression. Raema's face was lined with agony. Her accusing gaze fixed unwaveringly on Rathera, filled with anger and unabating hatred. Seeing such loathing in the eyes of her dearest friend, Rathera realized too late that she had become a self serving monster. She would carry Raema's dying expression with her for the rest of her existence, that was clear. Yet even as these self reproaching thoughts ran through Rathera's mind, she felt her sword plunge into Raema's heart. Dropping to the ground, the sword still clenched in her hand, Rathera began to weep bitterly. Around her, Rathera's closest friends lay dead or dying. These silent witnesses to Rathera's shameful crimes would haunt her dreams forever. Rathera felt strong hands supporting her as she stumbled out of the cage. Her own hand was clutched around the brand on her right arm, which resembled three intersecting circles imprinted with fire onto her lower arm, stretching painfully with each jolt of movement. She did not know when this burn had appeared- presumably at the same time as the heavy metal weight around her neck. Yet Rathera barely noticed this physical weight, for she was far more restrained by the emotional burden of the deaths of her friends. The woman supporting Rathera whispered consolingly, "Come, young one, it will be alright... I know how you feel, but there is nothing to be done now. You must remain strong, if not for yourself than for the sake of those who are now dead..." Suppressing a sigh when Rathera did not reply, the woman gently pulled Rathera towards a darkened corner of the room, where two baby faced toddlers sat with unusual calmness for children their age. The woman helped Rathera to sit down beside them before gracefully settling down herself. Rathera stared numbly at her companions. The woman was shorter than Rathera, although the woman's weary expression and slumped figure made it clear that she had seen the rise and fall of many years. Her brown hair was tied back behind her head, yet loose strands fell before her matching eyes. Immediately after the woman had sat down, the two children had huddled close to her. Their brownish gold eyes focused on Rathera with suspicion. Finding Rathera unwilling to speak, the woman queried quietly, "What is your name, child?" Her tone was reassuring and gentle, yet it could not penetrate the dark terror that ran through Rathera's mind. It was all Rathera could do to stutter, "Rathera... yours?" Her grip on the bloody sword clutched in her hand tightened imperceptibly. Watching Rathera in concern, the woman reached out and, showing remarkable strength and dexterity, pried the sword out of Rathera's cold fingers and tucked it into her own belt. With a weak smile, the woman replied, "I am known as Izanu, Dark Mistress of Mishran. The two children are my daughter, Restna, and my son, Amuel." Each toddler smiled hesitantly as their name was spoken, then scampered off when their names were called in a louder and harsh male voice. Rathera shook her head in confusion and tried to gather her thoughts. Frantically she asked, "What... what do you mean by 'Dark Mistress'? What is this place? What is this... this brand, this necklace?" She tugged at the choker around her neck, annoyed to find it would not budge. Izanu sighed. So much to explain... she did not even know where to begin. Holding Rathera's gaze hoping to see some understanding light the new slave's eyes, Izanu began to speak slowly, "This is the underground realm ruled by the Council of Chaos- to which you have just been initiated as a slave. You MUST obey any orders implicitly if you wish to survive! The brand is a sign of your low status, as is the collar around your neck." A rebellious look flashed in Rathera's eyes. "How can they control me?" Izanu nodded towards Rathera's collar as her hand moved surreptitiously to touch the collar about her own neck. "This necklace allows the Twelve- that is, the twelve immortal men who have authority here- to cause you great pain whenever you act against their wishes. It is.. hardly pleasant." As an afterthought she added, "And yes, it is irremovable." On the verge of tears, Rathera whispered more to herself than to Izanu, "Then... then I am truly a slave. But... but what of my brother; my mother? I cannot abandon them to live in this nightmare!" Izanu tried to smile with what she hoped was a reassuring expression. "You can return to your home... but you must never tell them of this. You are to work in the Torturer's Ring, so you will be called back here for training and assignments..." Rathera's brow furrowed. "What is this 'Torturer's Ring'?" "How can I explain this?" After a moment's thought, Izanu lifted Rathera's right arm where the brand showed clearly. Ignoring Rathera's wince of pain, Izanu slowly traced over each circle, naming them in turn. "The Circle of Torturers. The Circle of Mages. The Circle of Assassins." Dropping Rathera's arm, she continued calmly, "These are the three divisions of the Council. You will learn more later. But for now, you must return home... we cannot allow your family to become suspicious!" Rathera nodded, yet she still had a few questions. "But what of the brand? It must be hidden..." Izanu removed two black wristbands from her own arms and passed them to Rathera. "Wear these, for now." Slipping them on, Rathera looked around helplessly. A bit embarrassed, she asked, "Ummm... how do I get out of here?" Laughing merrily, Izanu handed Rathera a small circular amulet to attach to her collar. "This will teleport you where you need to go; and return you here when it is time." Nodding solemnly, Rathera clasped the amulet and fell backwards- and was on the sand in front of her adobe. ------------- Rathera slunk into the adobe, her hair filled with sand and her eyes dark with sorrow. She groaned upon finding Rath there waiting for her anxiously. Avoiding his gaze, she lay down on the other side of the room, resting her head on the iron neckrest and closing her eyes to discourage any questioning. Watching his sister in concern, Rath waited till it seemed that Rathera was asleep before walking over. He winced at the sight of numerous bruises over her body. What had happened, he wondered inwardly. Around his sister's neck Rath saw a strange necklace. Reaching out to hold the attached amulet in the light, Rath saw a strange circular design with obviously magical properties had been engraved upon it. Yet Rath had never seen such a symbol before, and had not the slightest clue as to its significance. Shaking his sister slightly, Rath hissed in a whisper, "Wake up!" Rathera opened her eyes drowsily, pulling herself up to a sitting position and readjusting the band of the kilt around her waist. Not waiting for her to speak, Rath snapped, "Where have you been? What happened?" Rathera was tired, but she still kept her wits about her. "I was in the market, shopping... a boy tried to rob me of this necklace which I purchased, which is how I came about these injuries." Closing her eyes again, she tried to sleep. Frowning, Rath realized bitterly that this obvious lie was the best he was going to get out of his sister. Just this morning, she had claimed she was going off by the Nile with her friends, and had even invited Rath to join them- as if he would have. This new tale made little sense, for Rathera hated the marketplace as much as he did, and would not have gone and bought jewelry of all things. Standing up with a sigh for his sister's stubbornness and secrecy, Rath walked out of the room to inform his mother that his sister was finally home. ------------- The next day, Rathera left as the first rays of Ra's light glittered over the Nile. When she was safely out of sight of the adobe, she activated her amulet to teleport back to the Council's underground headquarters. As soon as she arrived, Rathera was taken to a small room, most likely a storage area, and handed a set of papyrus scrolls by a short and almost comically obtuse man. He ordered gruffly, "Study these... by the time you are finished, you will know where to report and what to do." He exited the room, leaving Rathera alone. Sighing heavily, Rathera opened the first of the papyrus scrolls. This one was entitled "A History of the Council of Chaos." She began to read... From these lengthy and formal documents, Rathera drew the knowledge that she was now a 'Chamber Assistant', or an apprentice torturer. Which meant that she would be expected to... to torment any who were captured by the Council. How could she do such? And yet... her hand went to the collar around her neck. How could she not? A fierce light entered Rathera's eyes. Perhaps the collar wasn't real, perhaps it was merely at technique meant to terrify slaves into submission. Rathera looked at the order to report to the next room to torture a child taken in battle a few weeks past. Here was her chance to test the power of these collars... Rathera stood up slowly, and turned to walk out of the room. She passed the room where she had been assigned to report... and doubled over in pain. Light flared from the collar around her neck as she stumbled back to the chamber and entered. The same man whom had given Rathera the scrolls waited there, a scornful expression on his face. "I see you've decided to tempt fate... not wise, not wise at all. But now, I am to instruct you in the arts of our craft." Rathera nodded bleakly as the man approached the young child whom was tied to the floor of the room. Choosing one of the many instruments hanging on the stone walls, the man began his work, calmly describing the details of each torture as he performed them on the child with chilling accuracy. Closing her mind to the child's screams, Rathera tried to pretend she was not affected by the sight. Instead, she asked absent questions about the precision required for each step, and absorbed each of his answers into her soul. When he handed her one of the implements and ordered her to repeat the process, she was able to do so with the detachment required for such a gruesome task. ------------- Three years had passed since Rathera had been initiated to the Council of Chaos. Already she had become a 'Tormenter', or intermediate level torturer. She was sitting with Rath eating her firstmeal when the amulet about her neck flared. Covering it with one hand, she excused herself hastily and walked outside to activate it. Left alone in the adobe with Sernra, Rath watched his sister leave in concern. Rathera immediately recognized the area to which she had been summoned. It was the same room that, years past, Rathera had slain her friends to take up life here. She bowed her head in sorrow as she stood in the darkest corner of the large chamber, barely noticing the crowd that filled the room. Peering above the other slaves, Rathera noticed that the cage at the center of the chamber held three figures. One was an adult, yet the others were mere children. Rathera's heart quickened when she saw that the adult was Izanu, her only friend among the Council's followers. Rathera could not make out the faces of the children, but she assumed that they were Izanu's two young ones, whom had just recently seen the turning of their fifth and sixth years of life. Catching sight of the bonfire behind the cage, Rathera gasped in fear. Surely they would not...!?!? She had not time to speculate, however, for one of the Twelve, the leaders of the Council under Ao, had materialized on the platform. This was one of the four Council Twelve that Rathera knew on sight, for he led the Torturer's Ring. His name was Mishran, and from what Rathera had heard he was a pompous- but powerful- torturer who took maniac pleasure in the pain of others. He clad himself in golden fabric with more jewelry than the Pharaoh's wife, a walking symbol of power and wealth. Mishran called the slaves to attention with but a wave of his hand. Speaking out over the tense silence in the room, he cried, "Greetings, Chosen of the Council! I am here to carry out the verdict of the Twelve against my Dark Mistress Izanu, and her two whelps. Izanu's crime was to repeatedly refuse her duty to assasinate three major threats to the power of our supreme Council." He paused dramatically before adding, "For this, her children shall die." At this pronouncement, Izanu let out a strangled cry and stuggled against the guards who held her fast. His expression demonic, Mishran activated her collar. Subsiding with an agonized moan, Izanu began to murmur over and over, "Not my children... please not my children..." Restra and Amuel did not seem to comprehend the pronouncement. Two other guards approached to drag each one towards the bonfire. Thrusting the screaming children into the flames, the guards watched impassively as the two were instantly caught aflame. Their agonized cries echoed horribly through the chamber. Several minutes passed before they finally collapsed into death, their bodies devoured by the flames. Rathera shuddered, her face pale as she witnessed the true horror of the Council for the first time. They were so young, only a few years younger than her... to have died like that... Rathera vowed that were she to have children, she would have killed herself and any around her before watching them consumed by fire. For her part, Izanu had collapsed on the ground weeping. Brutally pulling her up by the hair, Mishran proclaimed, "The Twelve have deemed Izanu unworthy of service to the Council! She is sentenced to be buried alive in the desert sands. Her succesor, the Lady Takhment, shall take over her duties as my Dark Mistress." He paused, than turned around to fix his golden eyes gaze upon Rathera, who squirmed under the cold look. "The Tormentor Rathera is appointed as Takhment's successor, when such an event occurs that requires her to have a successor." Rathera flinched. This was simply too much! In the same breath, Mishran had sealed the fate of both her friend Izanu- and herself. Rathera watched blankly as Izanu's limp but conscious form was dragged away, but she saw the pleading in her friend's eyes. Forcing her way through the crowd, she knelt at Izanu's side, weeping as her friend was dragged past. Her gaze looked up at Mishran and she leapt forward, wanting nothing so much as to kill him. Strong guards held her back, and she ran from the room, knowing there was nothing she could do. There is no arguing with the dictates of immortals. ------------- The End.
Rathera's life will be continued in an upcoming sequence, TBA.
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