Chapter One: Chariots of Mischief

The quiet serenity of the temple was shattered as the sound of horses, chariots and joyful shouting filled the air.

"Faster you beasts you run like mules!" Crown Prince Malik shouted as he cracked the reins over the backs of his prized horses.

"Hey Malik, how would you like your face carved on a wall?" shouted Prince Atemu, laughing as they raced past the fresh painting of their father, Pharaoh Ahknemkhanen.

"Someday, perhaps, yes," Malik shouted as he turned for a moment to look at his younger brother.

"How about NOW?" Atemu shouted as he jerked his chariot towards Malik, whose chariot scrapped against the wall. He struggled to gain control of his chariot, as he shouted, "you almost killed me!"

"Aw come on! Where's your sense of fun?" Atemu asked innocently, as he gripped the reins tighter.

"Oh, so it's fun you want, is it?!" Malik shouted, as he steered his horses towards Atemu, who, in seeing what Malik was trying to do, reared his horses back, allowing Malik to race on the lower level.

"Woah! Atemu?!" Malik asked, looking around for his brother. He looked up and ducked out of the way in the nick of time, as Atemu's chariot launched over him, into the lead. "You sneaky bugger! Get back here!" Malik shouted as he raced towards his brother, who was gaining a fast lead.

In the merchant district, shop keepers and their scribes, who had been balancing the books, leapt aside as the princes rocketed through the district, crushing counting tables in their wake.

"You young whipper snappers shouldn't be racing where there are people trying to conduct business!" an elderly shopkeeper shouted as he and his scribe picked up the crushed pieces of their counting table, his complaint falling on deaf ears.

"Admit it, Atemu! You've always looked up to me!" Malik shouted as he looked down on his little brother.

"Sure I have, but it hasn't been much of a view!" Atemu shouted in laughter as Malik gained the lead, his kilt flapping up to reveal his loin cloth.

"Come on, let's go!" Atemu shouted to his horses, cracking the reins over their backs, in an attempt to catch up to Malik.

"Watch it!" shouted another shopkeeper, who stumbled out of the way just in time. "Hooligans!"

"Second born, second place!" Malik shouted as he rounded the corner in front of Atemu.

"Not for long!" Atemu shouted, laughing.

The boys whooped and hollered as they raced up the workmen's scaffold, causing it to sway dangerously under the weight of the speeding chariots.

"Whoa, that was close!" Atemu muttered as he turned his chariot, narrowly missing tumbling over the side of the scaffold, his wheel temporarily getting stuck. He rocketed past a painter who had been on a ladder putting the final touches on Pharaoh's statue. Atemu's movement caused the painter to lose his balance and fall from his ladder but catching the rope tied to his waist, painting a giant smile on Pharaoh's otherwise serious statue.

The high-speed movement of the princes' chariots caused the scaffold to sway violently before toppling over, breaking the nose off of Pharaoh's statue and joining the race down the scaffold.

"Jump!" Atemu shouted as he and Malik jerked their horses, causing them to leap just in time and pause.

Below the scaffolding, High Priests Seth and Mahado were slowly leading a procession of acolytes towards the Inner Sanctum. Seth, having heard a rustling behind him, looking over his shoulder, his face white in horror.

"Um, Seth. Seth…SETH!" Mahado shouted as he turned around. "What do you want Mahado?!" Seth grumbled as he turned to face Mahado.

"OUT OF THE WAY!" Seth bellowed as he and Mahado pushed past the other priests in an attempt to not get caught up in the sand storm.

"Yeehaw!" the boys shouted as they rode the sand wave, their chariots swaying before slowing down on the road towards the palace.

"You don't think we're going to get in trouble for this, do you?!" Malik asked, smiling.

"Nah, not a chance!" Atemu replied, grinning from ear to ear at their misadventure.

In the Audience Chamber

"Why do the gods curse me with such reckless, destructive, blasphemous sons?!" Pharaoh Ahknemkhanen demanded, his grip on the Crook tightening in anger, not turning to look at his sons.

"Father, please, listen to what I- "Malik began, as he stepped towards his father.

"BE STILL! Pharaoh speaks!" Ahknemkhanen shouted, as he whirled around to face the boys. "I seek to build an empire, and your only thought it so amuse yourselves by destroying it! Have you learned nothing?!"

"Please, your Highness, you mustn't be hard on yourself, you are an excellent teacher," Seth said as he bowed.

"Yes, Your Highness, it's not your fault your sons learned nothing!" Mahado echoed as he glared at Atemu and Malik, before taking his place next to Seth.

"If you think about it, they did learn blasphemy," Seth mumbled, loud enough for the boys to hear.

"That's true, they did. I wonder where they learned that from," Mahado echoed, equally as loud enough for the boys to hear before leaving the Audience Chamber.

"Father, please don't blame Malik. The fault is mine, I goaded Malik on, which means I'm the one who is responsible, not Malik," Atemu said, his hand on his chest.

"Hmm, 'responsible.' Do you know the meaning of the word responsible, Malik?" Ahknemkhanen snorted as he descended from the throne, glaring at Malik.

"I understand Father, I do but- "Malik began.

"And do you understand the task for which your birthright has destined you? The ancient traditions! When I pass into the After Life, you will become the morning and the evening star. The people will look to you!" Ahknemkhanen continued, ignoring what his son had began to say, throwing his hands in the air.

"One damaged temple doesn't destroy centuries of tradition!" Malik snapped angrily, stepping towards his father.

"No, but one weak link will break the chain of a mighty dynasty!" shouted Ahknemkhanen, who turned to face his son again. Pausing to take a breath and turn quickly to look at his wife, he said quietly, "You have my leave to go."

"Father," Malik said, approaching the throne.

"Go," his mother whispered, with her hand raised to stop him.

Angry and hurt, Malik stormed from the Audience Chamber, his footsteps echoing around the chamber.

Hearing the Audience Chamber doors slam shut, Atemu approached the throne. "Father, you know is was really my fault, don't you? Must you be so hard on him?" he asked.

"Oh Atemu. You will never have to carry a burden like the crown I will eventually pass to Malik. He must not allow himself to be led astray, not even by you, my son," Ahknemkhanen said, as he put his hand gently on Atemu's shoulder.

"All he cares about is your approval. I know he will live up to your expectations, Father. All he needs is the opportunity," Atemu said.

"Perhaps that is the case. Go now, your mother and I will see you both tonight," Ahknemkhanen said, as Atemu bowed and left his parents.

"Atemu is right, my dearest, Malik just needs the opportunity to redeem himself," the queen whispered as Atemu closed the chamber doors.