Tales are told and weaved throughout time
to one day join the archive of all.
Listen to this tale told long after Queen Serenity
and her beloved Silver Millennium,
long after Uther's son and his violent descent to Avalon,
long after the reign of King Endymion and Neo-Queen Serenity and their precious Crystal Tokyo
and so long after the remembrance of time
in which our senshi have become mere shadows,
promoted to the wretched position of deities
from what they once were.
Where another figure of power is rising,
reborn in a time so familiar yet so alien.
Where the line of enemy and ally have been redefined,
where the rebirth of our heroes
is either a curse or a saving grace.
Temples of False Promise
Chapter Two: The Isis Clan
Retold by Hel
The boy knew he had escaped. He knew he was beyond the reach of the old monk and all the rest. He had lived his whole known life inside the temple and was confused about what was happening outside. He had never known that the temple was built smack dab in the midst of a great city. The number of people was suffocating, not to mention the unfamiliar scents of human body odor, strange brewing foods, and any other smell familiar to a city atmosphere. The sun was barely pass the horizon and hundreds of bodies were already up and going about their business; merchants, children, city guards and officials, and an assortment of other typed of people.
The dust and dirt disturbed by the hustle and bustle of many people and animals wandering down the city's streets put the boy into a strange unending coughing fit. This alarmed the boy and soon he was panicking. His lungs felt as though they were on fire.
"Calm down, boy, breath with your mouth just slightly open, it helps," a large man appeared out of the crowds of people walking to and fro. In one giant hand he could have held the boy's entire head and crushed his small skull without flexing a muscle. The man was not in any way fat, just muscular, with a tangled mop of curly black hair overgrown on his head and a long gray frizzy beard that reached down to his belt which held a sword buckle with a great broadsword encased in the fine leather and metal. His hands were decorated in calluses and his face was beet red from the unyielding hot power of the sun. His clothes were of a sensible, but fashionable cut and quality, though, at the moment any clothes other then those of the boy seemed fit for a king.
"Sorry," was all the boy had time to mumble as he turned and ran (yet again) from the giant stranger.
"Strange kids these days," the man said while shaking his head and walking off. He had business to attend to elsewhere, but all through the day his mind kept on wandering back to the small street urchin. He was curious to how the boy had faired and if he was even still alive in this harsh world.
Over the next few years whenever he looked deep into the flames of the fire he thought he saw the boy's face growing older and handsomer, nobler and kinder. His daughter thought it peculiar when he would talk about the dream child of the fires.
The boy ran and ran. He jogged around people and twisted to prevent colliding with many of them. He realized the huge city was a maze and he desperately needed to find his way out. He was getting slightly claustrophobic.
After what seemed an eternity he found a gate to the
outside. He zipped through before the weary guardsmen could even acknowledge the blur of drab colors.
The breeze and the openness surprised him, he had never realized that there was so much more beyond his tiny temple world, the sun rays warmed him and the noises of nature were awe-inspiring.
The rocks and pebbles were starting to irritate his worn out feet so he turned off the road and raced down into the ditch and then into the shrubs and trees. The soft green grass felt cool and wonderful beneath his aching feet.
He didn't stop until he reached a small creek that was when he realized how thirsty he was. His throat was rubbed raw by all the exercise and he proceeded to crouch down to drink on the small sandy bank.
Many might think it strange that nature to be so summer-like in the middle of the winter season, but the world was finicky like that. This was an area of the land that always felt like summertime, at least for the time being. The gods and goddesses tended to play with things, as they wanted. Their magic kept some places warm and some so cold that no human could live there. The deities could change their minds on a moment's notice and make some drastic changes. They liked to keep their mortal servants on their toes.
As the boy was drinking he knew he needed to find out where he was. Find work on a farm maybe. He knew he couldn't work in the city, too many people, but on a farm in this beautiful and perfect countryside would be ideal.
As he sat on the bank for a while in a sort of daydream, planning his future, the breeze picked up.
"Arthur!" a voice whispered in the gentle wind that blew into the boy's ears. He gasped in shock, what was going on could only be described as magic. The voice didn't stop there and was accompanied by others all whispered through the wind.
"Go back."
Like hell was he going to go back to the temple or the city. He'd take his chances out here before going back to those evil places. Not in a million years would he ever go near either of them again.
"Find your future."
"Stay strong."
"Search for love."
He was thinking about his future, but to think about love was unheard of, women were evil. He still believed this even after his escape from the temple, some things were cemented into his subconsciousness.
"Go away!" the boy shouted angrily at the wind voices.
"You need not be so harsh," a voice, this time not magical ones on the wind, but one issued from the mouth of a man standing directly behind the boy.
The boy whipped around and looked up into the face of a man most likely in his mid-thirties with long silvery white hair pulled back into a ponytail and with crystal blue eyes that danced merrily with amusement over the boy's surprise. He had on bright gaudy colors of a loose fitting silk material and in one ear had a large gold hoop. He was most likely somewhere in his mid-thirties.
"I did not mean you," the boy said quickly and was about to start running yet again when he was grabbed from behind by two strong, thick hands. The silver haired man had not been alone.
"Who did you mean then, that rock lying by your foot or maybe that small fish jumping out of the creek," a gruff voice said sarcastically from behind the boy, it was the man holding him. The silver haired man stayed quiet with a calculating look on his face. The boy met his gaze straight on, in the man's eyes he saw the truth, the man had heard the voice also!
"Let me go," the boy insisted pathetically. He knew that he could not escape two grown men.
"Hey, Byron, I think the widdle boy misses his modda," the man behind the boy boomed. He then twisted the boy around to be facing his captor that was behind him. What the boy saw was an incredibly fat man with dirty blonde hair, thinned around a bald patch in the middle and dressed as gaudy as his partner. He had a bushy mustache that matched his hair color that waggled whenever he moved his head.
"Cheech do not tease the lad, you'll only scare him," the silver haired man said mildly. The boy figured the man's name must be Byron as his friend had called him.
Byron turned to the boy and squatted down so the two were eye to eye. The boy looked into the man's eyes and saw a flame of life that rivaled his own.
"You are alone, are you not?" Byron questioned the boy softly so as only he could hear and not Cheech. The boy nodded as an answer.
"Family?" This time a shake of the head in a firm no.
"Can you sing?"
"I do not know."
"Can you dance?"
"I have never tried."
"Do you possess any magic?"
"None that I know of?"
"Can you captivate a crowd and keep them so interested that they loose the sense of time?"
"I despise crowds," the boy said venomously, this made Byron raise his eyebrows in questionment.
"Where do you come from that you have not learned anything of the arts? Even the common milk maid knows how to whistle a tune as she does her daily chores," the man said his voice filled with amazement.
"Sir, I have just been born today," the boy replied, which was technically true. In the temple his spirit had been dead.
"What did you do to be born?" the man's question was strange, but the boy smiled, the man understood.
"I learned to live," the boy said simply and wholeheartedly.
"You are clever minded," the man said loudly has he stretched back up to his full height.
"Your not going to do what I think you are, are you?" Cheech asked, his usually jovial face now somber with the moment. Cheech had known Byron since he was born and could usually predict what the younger man was going to do, usually before he even gave anyone a clue. Byron looked at his oldest friend and gave him a small smile, there was no way Cheech would ever understand what had happened between him and the boy. Cheech had no clue how special the boy was. The boy probably didn't even know.
"I can tell by that look on your face that you are going to do it, I advise you to walk away right now and leave this urchin behind. What will Marcus say? How about Aphrodite? Your not thinking about the faith of your own clan," Cheech begged. Byron just shook his head and then looked at the boy. The young lad gazed up into Byron's eyes so full of trust, but apprehension. The boy knew what Byron wanted to do, but was not sure that he would go through with it. Byron needed to for the boy's sake.
"The clan will learn that he is no threat," Byron said simply. "Now we should be getting back, many are anxious to get back on the road."
"I will follow where you lead and support you in anything you do, even if I don't agree with it," Cheech said reluctantly, his voice full of sorrow. "I will pray to the goddesses that all goes well."
Byron nodded with respect for the man and then turned to face the boy again.
"Would you like a home?" the man asked. The boy hesitantly looked back to where the city lay and sighed. He would be leaving permanently the only place he knew. He had never planned to enter the city again, but it would have been nice to just look at it from a distance every once in a while. He also knew where his heart was leading him.
"Yes, I think I shall," the boy said his voice not even wavering as he turned back to Byron. Byron smiled, a smile a father would give to a son he was proud of.
"Then follow us, it is not far. We are gypsies, wandering entertainers. Your home is as of this moment with us," Byron said and the boy followed the two men into the bushes and trees back to his new home.
Aphrodite was bored. Everything was packed and ready to go, but of course Byron was holding up the whole group. He had insisted on going for a walk when he knew everyone was in a hurry to be on the road and away from the city. They had arrived there a fortnight ago and had done their shows for nearly half of the city. It was always fun to entertain, but no one liked to stay cooped up in one area too long. It was in the gypsy blood to like to wander, they lived for the adventure and excitement that exotic places could bring.
"Don't frown like that, my dear, it only suits to give you wrinkles," a masculine voice purred across her earlobe. She looked up to see a blue haired man in his early twenties standing there. It was Marcus, his piercing gray eyes were rooted to her breasts.
"You should have been a women," Aphrodite said disgusted. Moving her chest out of his viewing range.
"Why?" Marcus asked, truly puzzled. "I think I look just fine as a man." She had to agree he looked more then just fine as a man, he was a stud. A powerful lithe body and a deep sexy voice were only two have his handsome characteristics.
"Then you could ogle your own breasts instead of mine," she explained with a sly grin on her face.
"Yah, that might be nice, but yours would still be more fun to watch, even if I was a woman," he teased.
"You'd be too busy with men if you were a woman, your a sex-crazed jackass," she shot her retort back.
"I'd probably be a lesbian," he said winning the argument and walking away with a triumphant smile on his smug face.
What a prick, she thought and then smiled, she had a perfect plan to get back at him, not sleep with him anymore. This sounded like a good plan for those first few seconds until she thought about it a little more, he was good in bed, very good, actually.
Aphrodite was just fifteen, but she lived in a very adult world. As long as she could remember people told her how beautiful she was and how her beauty could only be justly compared with Venus's, the goddess of love and beauty. Aphrodite had long blonde hair half way down her back that was the color of ripened wheat. She had round gorgeous eyes that sparkled blue and a body of perfect proportions. Not one scar, not one birthmark marked her creamy gold tanned skin. She was truly a sight to behold.
She was snapped out of her revere when Byron walked back into the clearing. He had Cheech with him, but the real object of everyone's curiosity was the small boy walking beside him. He was so grimy and filthy that Aphrodite couldn't even tell what color skin he had, hell, she wasn't even sure it was a little boy.
The four dozen clan members gathered around Byron, anxiously waiting for him to say something, which he finally did.
"This young man is going to become part of the clan," Byron said simply. Cries of exclamation and disbelief rang through the crowd.
Marcus stepped forward, his handsome face diminished by the angry expression he carried, "The boy needs a sponsor."
I will be his sponsor," Byron proclaimed to the gypsy clan. This brought even more cries throughout the crowd.
"Do you mean to tell me this is your named heir?" Marcus asked like he couldn't believe any of this was happening..
"Nothing of the such has been decided. Don't be foolish, Marcus," Byron reassured. Aphrodite knew Marcus had every right to be mad. Marcus was Byron's only living relative, he was his cousin, if something happened to Byron, Marcus would take his spot.
The boy listened to all that was going on and he was puzzled. Byron needed an heir, was he some type of leader in this clan?
"Does he have any talents," Marcus sneered.
"I promise that this boy has talent, but the nature of it is my concern. Does anyone doubt my judgment?" Byron asked looking around at the now silent crowd. None of them uttered a sound.
"What is his name?" one old woman shouted from the back of the crowd. The boy scrambled in his head for an answer. In his excitement at getting out of the temple he had forgotten to choose a name. Part of his new life was to have a name, but he could not think of the right one in these few seconds.
"Arthur," Byron said for the boy. The boy looked up at the man and then grinned. It was perfect, the right name, the name he had always longed for at the temple, but never knew about. Byron had named him, but how did he know? The boy then remembered the winds, Arthur had been the word the winds had said first.
"Since I know that all of you are anxious to be on our way we will wait until this evening to have initiation for the boy," Byron said and then added, "Let us be on our way."
Everyone started moving around to wagons and horses; men, women, and children. Byron grabbed the boy by the wrist and moved him over to a wagon. He motioned for Aphrodite to come with.
"Byron, you are crazy," she said when meeting up with the pair.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," he said venomously. "I want you to be in charge of this wagon and of Arthur. Talk to him, teach him what a gypsy clan like ours is all about."
Aphrodite was about to complain, but Byron walked away, he had other things to do.
"He should rot in the black soul of Saturn," she spat and then climbed unto the wagon. Arthur just stood there, why had she been so harsh to Byron? Was she judging Arthur just by his appearance?
"Well, what are you waiting for. If you stand in one place too long all the flies in the forest are going to get a whiff of your smelly skin and be on us in seconds," Aphrodite said cruelly. The boy immediately tried to climb up, but then realized he was too short. The girl sighed with disgust and grabbed him by the back of his shirt and practically threw him in the seat next to her.
"How old are you, five?" she asked.
"Over eight," he said lamely.
"I know six year olds bigger then you," she exclaimed. The boy didn't say anything, he knew that he was way too small, it was because of that damn temple and the way the monks almost kept the boys permanently hungry. Their treatment had probably stunted the boy's growth.
"Why are you being so mean?" he asked in a small voice.
"My name is Aphrodite and it is my duty to be a bitch, I am female," she said harshly. The boy looked up in surprise. She was a woman? One of the evil creatures who ruined men? The monks had taught him that, had the monks lied about women too, Aphrodite didn't look evil, just slightly crabby.
"Is Byron the leader of your clan?" Arthur asked, he had been wondering about that for a while, maybe she could answer it.
She laughed. He felt his skin grow hot, she was laughing at him. "Have you never hear of Byron of the Isis Clan?" she asked between laughing fits.
"No, should I have?" he was puzzled.
"He is only the king of the gypsies. The leader of the Isis Clan rules all other clans," Aphrodite exclaimed, her amusement still evident in her voice. "He is your sponsor, your protector, if he does this then he can lawfully name you his heir instead of Marcus, his younger cousin."
"I don't want to be king, I just want to live," the boy said seriously.
"Your a strange boy, Arthur, very strange," Aphrodite told him. "Many a person in your spot would sell their soul be given the opportunity to become the next king."
Arthur thought about this and wondered if he would make a good king.
"Forget about it, hopefully any type of decision made won't be made for a while," she said and began to talk about something else.
The rest of the day she explained to him different aspects of the gypsy life, from traveling around to putting on shows. He absorbed all this information and filed it away for later. He would make Byron proud someday, yes he would
"I hearby name Arthur as my responsibility, to teach him all the ways of a gypsy and especially of the Isis Clan," Byron's voice boomed over the crowd of people. It was Arthur's first night with the gypsies and the ceremony was taking place that would make Arthur a full blood member.
Byron nodded to Arthur. Earlier that evening he had taught Arthur the correct words to say and now was the moment to see how sharp witted the boy was.
"I, Arthur, pledge my loyalty and spirit to the ways of the Isis Clan. I will honor and obey all who are superior in rank to me and to live my life in the gypsy way," Arthur repeated word for word his voice filled with the emotions of having a family for the first time ever. Byron was proud of the boy, he was a fast learner.
No one would have realized how handsome the lad was
underneath all that grime and dust. He had dark red hair that one of the women had cut for him into a plain bowl cut and deep purple eyes that danced in the firelight. He face was round and pert with a chin that he lifted up proudly. His skin was pale, almost the color of fresh snow, but he was still way too scrawny. His new bright colored clothes of green and gold did some to help, but everyone could see that he just was much too small.
Marcus had the next part to say. Usually, this was said by the leader of the clan, Byron, butt since he was the sponsor his next in kin or next in line for the leadership took the part.
"Byron put out your wrist," Marcus ordered. Byron obeyed and Marcus took a small dagger and cut a shallow line on Byron's wrist.
"Arthur, hold out your wrist," Marcus then commanded the young boy. Without a flinch he was able to stand the cut of the knife. This would have reminded him of the sacrifices at the temple, but this felt purer, cleaner, then those ever had.
Byron clasped Arthur's small forearm with his and their blood mingled together over the raging bonfire.
"You two are connected by blood and word. Let neither of you act any wrong upon the other," Marcus said and then it was done. One of the women bandaged up Arthur's arm with herbs and clothe.
Words of congratulations and encouragement resounded from the crowd, they had accepted him. The only one who hung back was Marcus and he looked like someone had stuck a log up his privates.
As the evening dragged on Arthur was going bored, he wanted to explore the world around him. Byron noticed this and told him he could go and wander a bit if he stayed close by the camp. He agreed and hurried off.
Arthur had never had any time in his life to be just a regular boy so he didn't feel comfortable going over and joining the other children playing some type of game with a big leather ball, instead he wandered over to the river they had camped by.
It was a amazing to see so much water in one place. When he made a comment about that earlier Byron had told him that a river was nothing compared to the ocean. Arthur knew Neptune had created the beautiful water all around him and he was thankful to the goddess.
As he stood there praying he saw a movement in the water and then a light on the land. He crept over to the spot, careful to stay in the bushes. Someone had just gotten out of the water. There was a small lamp on the shore and the figure walked into the light. The person started dancing to unheard music only in their head. They swayed back and forth, twirling and spinning in some wild dance.
Arthur recognized the person as Aphrodite, but what truly left him at a lost for words was that the stunning woman was completely nude.