Decided to post this one early ;) This will be my last chapter before my last summer class starts next week YAY! Thank goodness I got at least 5 chapters typed up in advance ;) But it means I will have to start using a writing schedule to stay on top of everything (Phew) hope I can pull it off.
As always read, review, comment, critique and ask questions! I REALLY want to read everyone's comments. I'm having so much fun writing this story! it just flows and comes so naturally to me! I think cause it combines a lot of the ideas I've wanted to portray in other stories just never fit ;) And Timaeus is just a joy to write!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Depictions of historical characters and places are all fiction and I in no way claim they are real. Characters belong to Takehashi and Koonami.
Enjoy!
Chapter V: Invasion
It was against his own will. He could pretend the decision was made for him. That he had no choice and this was the only way, but he knew that was a lie. Nothing he rationalized could or would convince him that he was doing the right thing. Right, he chuckled, dark and bitter. There was a dry irony in that obnoxious word.
And yet here he was—as if the morning's breakthroughs were only a faded dream. And that was the most painful irony of all.
Yugi could've cursed the Gods for their cruel games and insane plot twists—he could just picture them snickering in the Afterlife, weaving fates and hopes with the careless laughter of gossiping seamstresses. Only his devoted upbringing and respect for his divine parents kept his tongue behind his teeth. It would've been hypocritical of him anyway. He'd made his choice, and he'd known the answer the second he realized it was an army marching towards Waset and not a single ship. It didn't matter how much he detested it, it didn't matter how both his brain and heart knew it was the wrong choice, it didn't matter that it would cost him everything: it was his choice and that was all that mattered.
Yugi stormed through the pillars of Hypostyle Hall and hollered just loud enough for his voice to echo, "Get out of here now!"
Servants and hem-netjer alike stopped and stared at him with bewildered faces, torn halfway between confusion and shock. "We have to leave!" he warned, "Atlantis' army is coming!"
"Atlantis!" A servant dropped the tray she'd been carrying and scrunched her fingers to her cheeks in horrified shock.
"Yes!" Yugi confirmed, nodding and frantic. "They're coming across the desert as we speak."
"Atlantis!?" a scribe repeated, terrified nails sinking into the still-drying stele he'd just created in desperate comfort.
"We have to get out now!" Yugi ordered.
"What lies are this?" a hard voice spat.
Yugi spun around—violet eyes blazing with rage and glared at Siam so fiercely, the bullish man flinched. "You accuse me of false words!?" Yugi screeched, low and dangerous. "You, who lines your belly with substance while others starve?!"
"Enough of your lies!" Siam shoved forward, his voice full of cowardly triumph rather than any actual conviction. "Causing trouble for the Divine Servants, are you?" he accused, harsh and derisive. "We all heard your biting words to their kindness."
Yugi wanted to protest, but one glance at the steadying calmness on their waning faces, and he swallowed a retort. Even the most paranoid of the temple advocates relaxed their stressed shoulders.
They reminded Yugi so much of his hopeful, innocent self. So naïve and overconfident that things would work out in his favor that Yugi wanted to scream. He wanted to shake them, throttle them, hurt them before someone else did, and far worse than he would.
He spun to Siam with savage eyes and biting words. "You think I'd lie about something so severe?" He thought what Pas would say in that incident, born leader he was, and imagined his proud and encouraging smile. "So you choose to believe my words are some nasty tricky rather than accept the possibility of the truth? What purpose do I have in speaking such a lie? What reason? If all I wanted was to cause trouble for the Divine Servants, why would I involve the whole precinct? Why would I claim the world's greatest nation is coming to invade us were it just a trick? Why would I claim something so outlandish and cruel unless it was the truth? Would you really risk the lives and safety of everyone in this House if you were wrong? Ha!" He gestured to the crowd with an arm, his laugh short and sharp, and his words spoken with the authority of a king.
Muttering began to fill the walls, echoing against stone; even Siam no longer looked confident. Yugi just stared at him, smile curling when Siam cowered under the sharpness of his glare. "You've always been a fool Siam, but even I never thought you a coward to this extent."
"Be silent!" Siam shot forward and struck him hard across the cheek. The unexpectedness, more than the force, sent Yugi spiraling to the ground. Siam laughed victoriously, the way the local bully in town laughed after picking on a small animal. "I've had enough of your rebellion! When our Divine master and mistress hear of this—"
"What?" Yugi snapped, standing and made no effort to nurse the growing bruise on his cheek. "You still don't believe me?" Yugi stomped forward and Siam's mouth snapped closed with a click of his teeth. "Go outside and check! Though chances are, you'll be dead before you return."
Siam stared in horror. "Y-Y-You dare?!"
"Yes, I dare!" Yugi shouted. "Because it's true, we need to evacuate now!"
"What's going—Ujalah?" Yugi span around where Menkheperre and Maatkare both stood in the threshold—the commanding tone softening to hopeful surprise. They stared at him with blank expressions rather than smiles; some awful mixture between happiness and victorious certainty.
"Good to see you've come to your senses and return—" He reached a hand towards the boy but Yugi wrenched his arm away, glaring—a silent gesture that he'd yet to be forgiven. It was cruel, and Yugi knew it, but any other action would've given them hope and that would've been even crueler.
"The Atlantis army is invading the temple. Timaeus' ship is on its way as we speak," Yugi announced, his voice dangerously grave and with no trace of humor.
"This is lunacy!" Siam screeched.
"Enough!" Menkheperre shouted, silencing all, but his expression was one of annoyance and anger. It was all Yugi needed to know that it was a mistake to come back, even if it did clear his conscience.
He was still glaring at the Divine Servant when a terrible heart-wrenching scream broke the silence. A shaking servant girl pointed a trembling finger at the crowd clamored in the direction she pointed, where they stood stupid in the threshold and frozen in curious shock. Yugi shoved his way to the front, his small stature weaving between the forest of bodies. He barely registered the sight when a thunderous crash shook the walls. Dust rained overhead, stinging Yugi's eyes. Several people dropped, screaming and covering their heads. Another high-pitched scream echoed, and Yugi saw why.
The bow of a massive ship dominated Sphinx Avenue, then rammed into the gap of the massive sandstone pylon. The nose tore through the sands of the forecourt, splashing up canal water like a mini wave. The force sent a second shock reverberating through the temple and another rain of dust from overhead when the Hypostyle Hall walls shook. Screams echoed and occupants ducked to their knees, arms shielding their heads.
"We're under attack!" Someone screamed the words, the trigger that erupted in chaos. The spell of curiosity broken, fear sank in and panic soon followed. Someone crashed into Yugi and sent him flying; he slammed onto his back and curled into a ball as terrified, trembling bodies ran screaming in a stampede of panicked terror.
Yugi crawled to his feet, catching a glance at a temple servant crying in the corner; dirt-caked dress and hair, her tunic was stained pink where a shoulder wound bled shallowly. Her hands obscured her wet face, her lips the color of a bruise. To his shock, neither Menkheperre nor Maatkare had moved. Menkheperre just stared forward, face blank and looking foolish while Maatkare was shaking more from disbelief than fear or shock. They just stood and stared looking foolish, as if not understanding. Not quite able to grasp the reality, even as it happened right in front of them. Unable to accept, for all their power in Kemet and their hatred for the Per-A'Ah, that they would be powerless and broken by a far more powerful third party.
They couldn't accept that they had been attacked first—that they were truly being invaded.
"What do we do?!" A hem-netjer with a bruised face and a cut arm pleaded over the broken sobs of girls hiding in the corners. All looked desperate and scared.
"Attend to yourselves," Maatkare told the wounded, but she spoke dazedly and lacking all her previous authority.
Yugi shivered, eyes falling once more on the invading army. Soldiers poured from the ship like a shining flood, more savage than the Nile. One shining figure preceded the rest. He led, not marched, and they followed—no one dared pass him. Unlike his men, he wore no helmet and exposed his face in all its grotesque beauty to his victims.
Yugi didn't need to be told who he was. Lines of description from rumors and stories painted a clear image: wild hair blazing black like a giant fire with highlights that shifted from the deepest of blue-violets to the most striking blue. A silver forelock framed his chiseled face: sharp with angles and a strong chin and a sinister, singular smirk that morphed into a unique set of eyes—one wide, angular, and bright with emerald fire, and the other perpetually shut with a harsh scar indented across from brow to nose like the claw mark of some hideous creature.
Yugi's heart stopped beating and breath froze in this throat. Even though his thoughts were muted in his mind, he'd known it was coming—known who was coming, but faced with the happenings, he was unable to accept the sheer reality of it.
Conscious thought abandoned him like a helpless cub left to fend for itself. His subconscious mind, sensing danger, screamed at him to run but his treacherous body betrayed him. Another scream broke the silence and Yugi raced from the Hall.
Having lost the advantage of surprise, the soldiers fractured and so did the House of Life, but while Amun singers and hem-netjers, servant girls and God's slaves ran screaming in chaotic patterns, the soldiers separated into ordered fractions—blocking escape routes and circling additional housing. The ship blocking the canal, the barracks sealing the outer pylons and the soldiers infiltrating the structure—suddenly, Yugi realized their intent.
The capital was never their prize. It only took Yugi a fraction of a second to realize that it was Amun's House of Life. His heart and body were in revolt. His limbs were light, ready to flee, but his heart was paralyzed by fear and the screams of horror. A handful of hem-netjer and servants darted past him; some panicked and screeching with terror, others silent and covered in dust. Girls and scribe apprentices were huddled on the floor, staring at him with wet eyes. He wasn't following the crowd deeper into the confining halls of the House. They could hide, but they'd be found and they'd be trapped. Escape was impossible. Too late to evacuate, all Yugi could do was run.
Fear moved his feet, his heart hammering, desperate and hopeless. Wetness pricked his eyes. Prayers and pleads that didn't reach his voice echoed in his mind. Prayers to his fathers. Pleads to his mother. Please, came the desperate plea his voice was too weak to repeat as he ran blindly through the precinct. Please help me.
Suddenly, his feet became entangled and he stumbled face-first into wetness. Panic seized him at first, but once he surfaced, his mind cleared. Reeds tangled at his feet, and lotus blossoms floated about him, spinning like little fairies dancing on the surface of the water. They spiraled in a single direction, beckoning Yugi to follow them. He obeyed, and then he saw it. The southern gate next to Amenhophis II's temple just adjacent to the Sacred Lake, where an avenue of sphinxes led to another precinct—and the House of Life of Mut-Sekhmet.
His mother's Goddess whom she served so faithfully.
The ferocious and fiercely protective lioness who his father praised every morning with gifts of wine and blood, and prayed to for strength and the protection of his family.
And it was open. No soldiers blocked its path or occupied its entrance. Would they even think to look for him there? The hem-netjer wouldn't. Why would Atlantis soldiers, naïve to its importance to Kemet's religion even think to go there?
With a prayer of hope to his deceased parents, Yugi fled as fast as his calloused feet could run. The hot sand stung the soles with fierce blisters, but the sacred waters had worked their magic and suddenly, he felt lighter. The wind blew south, offering a small push. He could almost see the ram-headed sphinxes bow their heads in approval. The House of Life shined in the light at the end of the avenue, beckoning like a faded mirage with none of the heart-wrenching disappointment when it revealed itself false.
Soon, he found himself under the watchful gaze of hundreds of Sekhmet statues, lioness-headed, and both her ferocity and loyalty immortalized in perfectly carved granite. Instantly, Yugi felt a wave of relief and maternal protectiveness wash over him. He found himself swaying into Mut's House of Life and collapsed to his knees at the base of her statue.
Her precinct was small compared to Amun's; only a small square by comparison and contained only a single House of Life and its heart dominated by Isheru, the enormous crescent-shaped spring glittering like lapis lazuli. In her temple which her very ka called home, she stood commanding and daunting in the sculpted body of a woman, an ankh in her hand, a vulture headdress bejeweled her hair and a double-crown of sovereignty adored her head. Her face, the flawless beauty of a woman: her eyes kind, her smile warm, her hands clever, and all around her the granite statues of her lioness alter-ego.
At its heart stood the Goddess herself, the heavenly mother, who embodied a mother's love: gentle, warm and doting, but the fiercest of the earth's forces. The regent of kingship, protector of women and mothers, and lover of children… At her fiercest, she was Sekhmet, the lion goddess: ruthless in battle and dangerous to the Per-A'Ah's enemies, but fiercely protective of his allies and family, and a healer who brought with her the wrath of the sun and the demons of pestilence that served her faithfully and fled without question when her priests invoked her to command them. Her duality won her the heart of Amun-Ra, Kemet's Imperial God, and mother of the moon, and only she would be his consort—the throne at his side was hers alone.
Yugi collapsed at her feet, exhausted and out of breath, but immediately overcome with relief, as if the wind sweeping through his hair were the goddess' loving hands. He pressed his forehead to her feet and whispered a prayer of thanks and a praise of solace. Her protection and love fluttered throughout every inch of the House, and he felt it in his bones… his heart… his soul.
Free.
His heart jittered like an agile cat's: light and alive with hope and promise. Free.
His earlier ponderings has brought it into fruition, but in the aftermath of a war—having escaped capture and evaded a battle—it felt alive. True. Real.
He was free—only the distant hope of a foreign dream that tittered on the edge of possibility. It was a real thing now. It was real, and it was happening. His years of hiding and daydreaming, and fate had won him the most unlikely chance of freedom.
And he'd taken it.
It wasn't over, of course; there was still work to be done. He'd have to gather supplies and wait out the Atlantis invasion for however long it took. He'd have to board the bark to Waset and from there, perhaps join a caravan to Djanet, or get a ride on a supply bark or a merchant galley. He could dance and play instruments and when asked, he could sing. He'd be useful. He'd even earn his keep and do something. He'd find his brother and sister. He'd decide his future. Perhaps he could be Pas' ambassador and see all those exotic places he'd dreamed about. He'd join Mut as a Hem-netjer. She was Divine Priestess of Mut, he would come again. Or he could travel with a caravan through Kemet and beyond, as a dancer, or a doctor as the Sekhmet priests were called outside of Kemet.
He had choices. He had options. And he was just beginning to make them real with such passion and hope that, in that moment, he was certain all his dreams would come true.
And they might have—had he not been followed.
X X X
Timaeus was a warrior seasoned for battle, and in the short time he'd been trained in its service, he had mastered the arts of war—and its horrors. Having witnessed the massacre of blood and death all his life and not just in war, he prided himself on his men's swift work. The temples were emptied and even the deepest bowl and darkest corners of Amun's massive halls had been discarded and emptied. It wasn't elegant and it wasn't slaughter, but it was quick and bloodless.
From each corner, his soldiers returned ushering slaves in simple shenti, girls and singers in fine silks, and priests donning fancy headdresses and robed of heavy pleats. Their hands were bound and gathered in the forecourt where Dartz was waiting. Physicians waited on the ship, unmoving without the order.
Timaeus scanned the bodies. No casualties, but a slave boy had a scraped cheek and shoulder. A girl had her hair tussled and blood on her thighs. Seeing her, he walked over and knelt in front of her. She shivered when he stopped, and made no effort to stop her tears. As gently as possible, he asked, "Are you injured?" She stopped shaking and looked up in surprise, and he smiled gently and gestured to the blood. She blushed and wiped it away, shaking her head no. Next to her, a soldier carried an unconscious boy with a strip of his cape wrapped around his head. Red splotched from a gash on his forehead, and she said she'd been holding it in her lap. Timaeus nodded and made a mental note to have the physician check her report of findings only to him.
A bald priest with a fat stomach threw himself at Timaeus' feet and pleaded for mercy, even offering all in exchange for his freedom. Timaeus shuddered in revulsion and hooked his toe under the man's chin and kicked him away, not so quietly calling him a worthless coward.
They'd surrendered without a fight. Only the High Priest and Priestess refused. The Priestess had attacked him in a blind rage, but he'd easily dodged her blade. He'd drawn his sword, but not unsheathed it, and slammed the butt onto her hand and she dropped her weapon. He'd slammed his sword into her thigh and she faltered, grabbing her wrist, he'd had her hands bound before her knees hit the floor. But she didn't go quietly. Even restrained, she kicked, screamed and thrashed until her beaded wig flopped off, revealing cropped hair. She was still damning him and threatening Kemetic curses upon his house and descendants when he'd had his men drag her outside.
The High Priest had been less of a challenge. Braver than his sister, he didn't hide. He'd attacked Timaeus face-to-face: honorable, but foolish. Timaeus slammed the sword into his belly and the man gasped and slumped over Timaeus' blade. He dropped when Timaeus pulled away his sword, momentarily stunned that he was still alive. Only when his hands were bound did he see that Timaeus' sword was still sheathed in its protective leather.
The Dragon General searched each group, scrutinized each face, but none bore flame-shaped black hair in three colors or violet eyes, not even blue. They were a monochromatic bunch, all with black hair, dyed or natural, while bald priests donned cloth headdresses or covered their baldness with beaded wigs; and their eyes were a boring palette of gold, brown, or black. It was like waking up and suddenly realizing you'd lost the ability to process and see colors.
"Is this everyone?" he demanded, displeased and unimpressed.
"Sir!" The soldiers stood straight. "We've evacuated all the lesser temples. Men are still searching the larger structures."
"That doesn't answer my question," Timaeus barked, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing to slits. "Is. This. Everyone?"
The soldiers remained stoic. "We are certain."
Timaeus whirled to the High Priest and Priestess and caught them whispering. Realizing they'd been caught, the conspirators silenced and shoved away, shivering under the intensity of Timaeus' glare. Timaeus marched over and dropped to one knee.
"I will ask you only once," his glare was mild, but his smile and voice were victorious, almost mocking. "Where is the boy called Ujalah?"
The Priestess spat at his face and the Priest elbowed her harshly, but the deed was done. His suspicions were confirmed.
"I see," Timaeus smile curled. "So he's here, then? Thank you for that confirmation—however inelegant."
The Priestess seethed with rage and looked at him with hate in her eyes, but there was no less rage or hate when she looked away, mumbling furious insults to herself.
"I'll ask again." He glared down at the bound High Priest who met his eyes, stoic and neutral, but he was not as mastered in the art as Timaeus. Deep in the black pools, Timaeus saw the seething rage of defeat, the devastated frustration of failed work and the sheer annoyance of wasted planning and the absolute end to such carefully-plotted and perfect scheming. Timaeus' eyes betrayed nothing.
He let all his brutality and rage bleed into his voice. "Where. Is. Yugi?"
The name, more than anything else, caught him off guard. Timaeus knelt and met the High Priest's eyes and forced the High Priest to stare at him.
"I don't know," he admitted, defeated and furious at himself because of it. "We lost him in the chaos."
Timaeus pulled away. He checked the crowd again, then his soldiers. All were accounted for—except two. "Where are Haga and Rex?" The demand was quick and clean.
The soldiers looked among themselves, just now noticing their missing comrades. No one answered.
Timaeus roared with a sharpening, "Well?!"
"They left to investigate the southern gate, General," one of them spoke up. "There was a temple there and several outer walls. They volunteered."
Timaeus arched a brow. Haga and Rex were boys more interested in glory and blood and playing soldier rather than the actual responsibility of it, and their mischief had earned them Timaeus' scorn many times before. He trusted them to investigate a temple like he trusted a leech not to suck his blood.
He strolled to the dais steps and found the south pylons in the distance. Sharp eyes scanned the lakes to the so-called temple and the avenue of sphinxes until a faded structure caught his attention. In the heat, he could almost mistake it for a mirage because it was so distant, but his instincts taught him better.
Beyond the parallel row of ram-headed lions, he saw the outline of a large wall and beyond it, the faint structure of a house, more ornament than some of the smaller complexes here and large enough to house something grand. He stepped towards it and felt the wind roaring in his ear, rough and loud like the warning call of a mother lioness to an intruder.
"Tell me," he looked at the High Priest when we spoke, but addressed the crowd as a whole. "What lies beyond there?" The casual tone was that of a foreigner asking for directions and the Priest growled with rage. The rest bowed their heads in obedient silence.
"The Precinct of Mut-Sekhmet," a soft voice spoke. Timaeus blinked and spun towards it. The girl he'd spoken to earlier shrank away under his gaze but continued speaking. "It is the House of Life dedicated to her Divine Heavenly Regent Mut-Sekhmet, consort to his Divine—"
Timaeus listened as she listed the titles, but one caught his ears.
"Sekhmet," he breathed the word, testing it on his tongue. A smile slit his face.
"Thank you, my dear," he bowed low and spoke so graciously that, for a moment, she forgot who he was and blushed.
"Take them to the ship," Timaeus ordered his men. "See that the wounded are attended to and place everyone else in the holds." He paused and met the glares of the priest and priestess, then ordered evenly, "Take them to the brig. And tell His Highness to meet me at Mut's precinct."
With that, he marched away and started through the many pylons of the south entrance. The soldiers looked at him with confusion and curiosity. Questions formed on their lips but none of them spoke. Silently, they ushered their captives towards the ship. Physicians and medics arrived to treat the wounded. Like the Priestess of Sekhmet, he thought, recalling Dartz's explanation. His knowledge of Kemetic religion was limited, but he knew enough about Mut-Sekhmet to put the pieces together.
In Kemetic stories, if he remembered correctly, Sekhmet was the goddess of destruction and war. She was the sun's fire, the instrument of his vengeance and the embodiment of his wrath. But she was not unkind, nor was she wholly savage. She is battle and war: it was she who drew the blood from the fallen in battle so they may die peacefully. She, who chased pestilence from her children and summoned its demons upon her enemies. She was the desert's heat who squashed invaders under the harshness of Kemet's sun. Her blessings were protection in battle and the ferocity of the slaughter, but also the liquid life of each warrior slain in war, each child spared death from disease. Her temples were few, but her cult so dominant that when the capital changed, she moved with it. Her rituals were daily to placate her rage and her festivals were held in annual bouts of drunken wildness mimicking how Amun-Ra mollified her bloodlust against disrespectful men. And when her rage was placated and her blood lust sedated, she became Mut.
Mut was the Lady of the Heavens, the divine, doting, mother associated with the waters from which everything is born. She was the vulture who was conceived by the wind herself. It was she who filled wombs, protected children from danger, and filled women with strength and in her was all the tender affection and ferocious protection of mothers. For nothing was fiercer than a mother's love. Rulers worshipped her as their heavenly Queen who chased away shadows and filled the night with stars. Her temples were less and her worship more subtle, like a mother's watchful eye after her children were all grown and she sent them off into the world with words of encouragement and the promise that they were never alone. Her true temple, it was believed, housed her ka in its heart surrounded by statues with the face of her more ferocious self.
Mut and Sekhmet: duality at its finest. The duality of all women, of all mothers, and of all warriors: one, the doting and loving inspirer; the other, a fierce and savage protector.
He had no illusions that Yugi would seek shelter there.
Hope the goddess description isn't too wordy. I did a lot of editing on them and they actually looked a lot shorter on word.
But its all set up now...anyone wanna guess what's gonna happen next? I guarantee it won't be what your thinking ;)
Historical Note: The Precinct of Mut is connected to the Precinct of Amun via Amun's south gate through an avenue of sphinxes. Sadly, it's not open to the public (though I'd love to see it one day if they do) but unlike Karnak, it contains only Mut's house and a HUGE crescent-shaped sacred lake famous for its beautiful water. And the Statue within the temple is believed to house Mut's Ka or soul. Also, during the New Kingdom, Sekhmet became associated with Mut and thus Amun's consort, when Ra was associated with Amun. In fact Mut's temple is flooded and outlined with Sekhmet statues. In a retelling of Sekhmet's myth, after Ra placated her bloodlust, she became united with Mut, Hathor, Ma'at depending on the story, but she become associated with Mut, because Sekhmet's cult and worshiped moved with the capital, thus when Amun and Ra were fused with the union of the North and South, Sekhmet became known as Mut-Sekhmet, which also played on the duality aspect famous for Eyes of Ra, and Goddess associated with the royal family: this included Baset, Wadjet, and Mut and Hathor who were both associated with or fused with Sekhmet.
NEXT TIME: The unthinkable happens at Mut's House of Life. Timaeus and Yugi finally meet, but in a way no one will expect. (Queen of plot Twists sips her wine)