Just to let you people know, this story contains some spoilers, but not too much since I don't know that much about the Egypt Arc myself. I only know names. Anyway, thanks for the reviews and I look forward to hearing your comments as the story continues.
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Chapter 1 – The Pharaoh's HolidayThe mid-day sun blazed upon a golden landscape that spread abroad in a sea of sand dunes. Against the rippling horizon, stood the city of Thebes, its white limestone towers glowing brightly, the shadows of the date palms wafting in the hot desert wind. Red dust whirled across the hard camel road leading off toward the north, as the thunder of galloping steed echoed off the glistening waters of the Nile. Upon its surface, the mighty river reflected a golden chariot thundering down the rocky path, its wheels blurring into the red dust. A pair of wild and powerful stallions pulled the graceful chariot into the desert, one the hue of the blood-red Nile waters at sunset, the other its follower the nightshade, dark as the onyx stone.
Racing across the desert sands, the rushing steeds turned down through the crossways at the command of the charioteer. A young man of sixteen years, his face shined with youthful vigor as he lashed the reins, urging the beasts into a speedier gait. His eyes were the color of ruby stones flashing in the sunlight; his skin a burnished copper, adorned with armbands, neckband, bracelets, and rings of the purest gold. Upon his forehead lay in gold carvings was the Eye of Horus, a crown of authority and splendor, its wings set through his streaked bangs the shade of sunlight, and his dark locks black as the heavens at midnight. A long cape of fine linen dyed reddish-purple, billowed behind his regal form. His bare chest glistened with streams of sweat from the heat of the day, and around his neck rested a golden pendant in the shape of an inverted pyramid, emblazoned with the sacred Eye of Horus. A skirt of dark purple and gold draped across his loins and clung to his strong legs, his ankles cuffed with bands of gold.
The chariot raced onward until it reached the summit of a rocky crag. The young man pulled hard on the reins and the fleeting equines came to a halt. As the dust cleared, the wondrous land spread out before his eyes, a realm of gold and water that stretched on to the horizon. The Nile River became as a stream of the purest gold, a glimmering pathway vanishing into the dark mountains beyond. A great throng of brick buildings surrounded the immense aura of the palace, a striking realm of gold statues and temples of white limestone, bordered by a protective wall, with watchtowers and balconies. The Jewel of Egypt, many had called the city of Thebes, and indeed, it was a beautiful sight, so much so the youth could not help but sigh in awe at the magnificent land that was his. Stepping off the floor of the chariot, the young man came to stand beside the scarlet stallion, placing a hand upon its neck. Gazing off across the land from his place at the top of the rocky dune, he watched as the fishermen floated downriver in their boats, and the farmers as they plowed their fields for the next harvest. The year had brought forth a great plenty, the rains in the south had filled the Nile, flooding the land and reaping much fruitage. He caught the scent of the freshly cut wheat and barely stalks, and the ripe grain being placed into the storehouses. Everything was green and lush with water and life. How he wished he could just stand there forever and gaze in awe at his beautiful home.
"Oh, I don't understand him. This is the fifth time this week that he's run off," an aged man of short stature mumbled to himself as he searched the great rooms of the palace. Dressed in a white linen robe, deep blue sash and domed headdress, Shimon, Chief Advisor of the Pharaoh's Court, picked up the cover of a beautifully decorated clay pot and gazed inside. "Surely, he is around here somewhere."
"Shimon, you look most undignified with your head in that pot," laughed another voice from across the grand hallway. The advisor looked up to see a young priest, tall and adorned in white linens; his shoulders lined with gold plates springing upward like wings. His eyes were a deep hue of honey, and shined from behind a golden headdress, a covering of fine white silk framing his handsome face. His skin was a deep bronze, bejeweled with articles of gold, cuffed to his arms and wrists. Around his neck, a mysterious and beautiful ring of pure gold, glimmering in the sunlight, the sacred eye of Horus gazing off from within the boundaries of a smooth pyramid, its diameter lined with six points hanging down and lightly tinkling against each other, as the priest approached the advisor.
"Mahaado," the elder huffed, brushing back his gray bangs and replacing the lid of the vessel. "I would think you of all people would be searching for the young Pharaoh."
"Has he fled from your boring lectures, yet again?" the young priest smiled.
"Unfortunately, yes. He plans his own undoing by running off when it is time for his lessons. This time, however, he has eluded me greatly. I have searched every pot in the palace, and have found neither height nor hair of the young Lord."
"Perhaps it's slipped your mind that he's grown out of pots and on to better things." Mahaado stepped over to the great balcony overlooking the Nile and the white dunes beyond. Stretching his hand out, the young priest pointed over to a rocky outcrop just at the start of the camel roads, a wave of stones and sand cresting over the sparkling river waters. There the advisor spotted the shadow of a chariot, led by two great stallions, and the form of his young master gazing off into the distance.
Sighing in relief, Shimon chuckled, "So, he has taken up horses. That's too bad. I will have to make my lessons more interesting, else I'll have to run after a chariot instead of peering into pots."
Mahaado laughed and replied, "What's interesting is that from what I've observed, he never goes any farther than that point in which he stands. I think he views it as the best place to overlook his kingdom, even more so than the balconies of the palace. I have gone there with him once, and indeed it is a glorious sight."
"But, what's this?" gasped Shimon. "Why is he out there alone? The Pharaoh must have an escort!"
"The Pharaoh refused to have one. He said he wanted a bit of time to himself. If I were in his place, and in his time of youth, I too would grow tired of the constant attention from attendants and guards."
"Still, out in the dunes are bandits and thieves, who may do harm to our young Pharaoh."
Mahaado shook his head in disagreement. "I do not believe that is the case. There is no one that I have heard of who has any ill feeling against the Pharaoh. He is loved by all, young and old, and tries his best to keep peace in the land. There should be no reason for anyone to wish an ill fate upon him."
Shimon crossed his arms in a huff and muttered, "He still should have an escort."
"Oh, would you stop worrying you, old crocodile. Look, the Pharaoh is returning, safely. You'll have your student to yourself soon enough."
Shimon looked over the balcony and watched as the golden chariot raced through the palace gateway, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. The advisor shook his head in dismay and went to meet the adventurous young lord.
Atem was the name given to the young Pharaoh, for he was born in the hours of darkness, however, he was not at all dark in spirit. He shined brighter than the noonday sun, and brought joy into the land. On this day, though, the youth had created strife in the palace at his sudden disappearance and was due for a scolding from his advisor. Foreseeing this, Atem decided to avoid contact with his teacher and stole into the palace through a rear entrance. The immense rooms of alabaster stone and granite stretched on forever in a great sea of silver and white, glistening in the hot sun. He caressed the smooth stone pillars painted with blue and dark purple motifs, gazing at the statues of late kings erect in every corner and paintings lining the high walls. He recognized pictures of the history of the royal family, the ancient wars against the Syrians and the Ethiopians, and the minor everyday events recorded daily upon the ever-growing palace.
As he neared the flight of stairs that led to the Nile waterway, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps tapping against the marble floors. He halted his step and leaped behind a pillar, sucking a breath of air through his tightly clenched teeth. His ruby eyes scanned the room and widened sharply as he saw a stranger running down the halls. He was dressed in peasant clothes, and left trails of dust as he ran. The fringe of his skirt was tattered, his hair matted with sand and blood. Dark eyes wide with fright, the man raced off in a panic toward the courtyard.
Atem leaped out from his hiding place and in a loud voice cried, "You! Stop there!"
The fugitive slipped in mid-stride and tumbled down the stairway and into the garden below. The young Pharaoh jumped down after him, and came to find the man nearly unconscious at the base of a date palm. His breath was quick and irregular, as if he was been running for quite some time. His face was covered in blood that trickled from a gaping wound on his head, his body shaking with fear. Atem kneeled beside him and said softly, "Are you all right? What happened?"
The fugitive partly regained his senses and in an instant was bowing before the young Pharaoh and pleading, "Please! Please, my Lord, forgive me. Forgive me!"
Atem, worried that the injury might've made the man lose his sense of reason, asked, "What have you done for you to plead in this way? Come. Stand up. Let me get you to a Doctor."
The man looked up at him, wild with fear and said harshly, "No!" Blood flooded his mouth and he coughed violently. Falling to the ground, he writhed with agony at the throbbing pain from his wounds. Atem reached out and caught the man as he fell, holding him in his arms, glancing around helplessly for assistance. There was no one in the courtyard but had gone in search of him. The young Pharaoh now regretted his recklessness.
"My Pharaoh..." the man spoke after he had caught his breath. "Please...take this." Weakly, he reached into his tunic and brought out a scroll, laced with gold and sealed with the head of a vulture. His hands trembling, the stranger lifted it toward the Pharaoh, who took it solemnly.
"Forgive me..." the man gasped. With his last breath gone, his body fell limp, and his spirit left him.
Confused as to why this fate had befallen the stranger, Atem remained at his side, closing the dead man's eyes and laying him gently beneath the shade of the palm. Addressing the gift that was given him, the young Pharaoh wondered what it contained. Was it so dangerous that the messenger had to kill himself or what is the guards that had struck him?
The Pharaoh's questions were about to be answered as a battalion of troops flooded the courtyard, flanked by the priests and his advisor Shimon. A flurry of commotion erupted through the palace as they surrounded the bloody scene.
"My Lord Pharaoh," shouted Shimon from behind the thick bodies of the guards. He pushed through and came to the youth's side. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I am quite fine. This stranger, though, has been dealt a grave injustice."
"Oh my," gasped the advisor. "Look at the wound on his head. It appears that he was struck with a dagger!"
Atem flashed his eyes upward to the leader of the squadron and demanded, "Tell me, did any of the guards strike him?"
"No, my Lord," said one of the sentries, bowing respectfully as he approached. "Our orders were to capture this intruder, but not to harm him."
"Guards, show me your swords!" the Pharaoh ordered, anger glistening in his ruby eyes.
At once, they rose from their kneeled positions and drew their blades. Not one drop of blood stained any of the shining silvery weapons, but all were clean and bright in the sunlight.
Troubled, the Pharaoh turned away from the horrid scene and whispered to Shimon, "Have this mess cleaned up quietly. Do not let word of this incident spread to the ears of my subjects. After you are finished, I wish to speak with you privately in my chambers."
Shimon bowed gravely. "Yes, my Lord Pharaoh."
Solemnly, young Atem stepped up the white stairway, his cape billowing in the wind, and disappeared into the palace.