Chapter One
Outside the large, sandstone building, all was a maelstrom of swirling, blistering sand as the terrible storm howled through streets and domiciles alike. But, inside the temple, all was still, all was calm. Not even the slightest breeze passed through, the torches lining the side-walls blazing brightly and tall, clearly illuminating the columns that likewise lined the outer temple room.
The large, timber doors groaned as they were pushed against the pounding wind outside, finally slamming shut as the men who had closed it collapsed against it, panting heavily. Dressed in nothing more than white linen that stretched from their waists to their feet, sweat glistened on their naked torsos, the heavy black eye-liner they ceremoniously wore starting to run with the beads of perspiration that dripped down their bald heads and into their faces.
"It's not right," one grunted, sliding down into a seated position on the floor, "To deny sanctuary, shelter, during a storm of such ferocity."
"It is the will of the gods," intoned the Hem netjer, the High Priest of the temple piously, "that worshippers, common peasants, should not be allowed beyond the outer courtyard. And now, more than ever – as the great day draws closer – that their will is law."
At this statement the rest of the priests bowed their heads and retreated, each making their way to their own little spaces of worship, leaving the Hem netjer alone with the outspoken priest. "You mean to question our gods?" he asked finally, eyes reduced to slits.
"O-of course not, High Priest Mepheses. Such...such foolishness would not be wise," the younger priest stammered, the last thing on his mind being to anger the gods of this temple as he eyed the man who now stood before him, more with fear than the usual respect. "Forgive me..."
"And yet you speak out against their will."
"Not against them, merely wondering why. Surely one is allowed to ponder the ins-and-outs of his religion?"
"Such wonderments would be best left to the heretics and philosophers. We live to serve the gods, Aruk," Mepheses snarled with unrestrained venom, his eyes rolling up into the back of their sockets, their whites glowing fiercely despite the heavy shadows falling upon his face. "Wordlessly. You have broken that silence, little man..."
Every torch in the temple dimmed, flickered and then roiled violently against the stillness as their natural light was quashed by that of an unnatural emerald glow that shone from the ceiling of the temple, gently pulsating and growing stronger with every pulse. Priest Aruk groaned, scrabbling to his feet to quell in fear under the High Priest's abnormal glare, his only hope escaped closed behind him, and impossible to open alone.
"P-please...please, no..."
"The gods have come to judge your insolence, Aruk," Mepheses threw his arms wide, his head snapping back to stare blankly at the high ceiling enshrouded in the green hues. "And you know they do no suffer fools...lightly."
"No!" but it was too late; before he could move, duck or bolt, Aruk's head was gripped tightly by the vice-like grip of the Hem netjer. His screams lasted a full five seconds.
Then, all was silent; Aruk was still standing, still alive. He was standing straight, arms hung limp at his sides. Only his eyes remained active, wide and filled with fear, rolling around as figures emerged from the shadows of the pillars all around him.
They were his beliefs made nightmarish reality and, upon witnessing them, Aruk's mind raced to find a logical answer as to why he had ever found the very idea of them something to be revered, admired, to be worshipped when they were so obviously monstrosities to be feared, avoided, left alone.
They were his gods made flesh, and there were four of them. Two of them had the bodies of men, dressed in a similar fashion as the priests. But there, the similarities ended, for the heads of these men – if that was what they were at all – were replaced with those of beasts; a hound as black as pitch, its muzzle long and dripped with saliva, and an owl with pure white plumage and a sharp, hooked beak that looked like it could tear through flesh. The third, although the smallest, was the most fearsome-looking, it's body a menagerie of three different, terrible creatures – it's head that of a crocodile, it's torso a lion and it's legs those of the hippopotamus. They were led by a fourth, a woman dressed in a flowing olive-green shawl. She looked completely human (there was that word again, thought Aruk's feverish mind, was it even the right term for these abominations?), and yet she exuded an aura about her that was far more bestial, more terrifyingly fearsome than any of her monstrous cohorts. Her face was sharp and pointed, almost serpent-like in its beauty, and heavily painted white, her eyes blazing like emeralds that matched the glowing far above her.
The first three Priest Aruk, still frozen in place by Mepheses, could easily identify from the animal-guises they each bore, but he also knew, deep-down in his cold gut, that the lady who led them was none other than the queen of the gods, and lover of Osiris. She was the Lady Isis.
"Is this him?" she asked with a cold hiss, pointing a slender finger at Aruk, its' elongated, sharpened nail scratching the tip of his nose – they were longer than his whole hand! Had he not been silently crying in fear already, then the intense pain alone would have brought tears to his eyes.
"Yes, Lady Isis," confirmed Mepheses, his head lowering to meet hers, his eyes still rolled back.
"The one who deems himself worthy of questioning his gods?"
You're not my gods! Aruk screamed silently, his jaws clenched shut against his will. I don't know what you are, but you are not those I worship. You...you can't be...I refuse to believe that!
"Yes, my Lady..."
"Well," the goddess drew herself up to her full height, which was towering, the other three gods behind her fanning around Aruk, "then he must be judged."
As one, the animal-headed trio closed-in upon him and somehow, for some reason, Aruk found himself in control of his mouth once again. Finding his voice for the first time in what seemed like a terrible eternity, he screamed as they fell upon him.
In their separate worshipping areas, the other priests cupped their hands to their ears, muttering their prayers and words of worship louder than usual.
...anything to drown out his death-screams...
She was eating sand (again) and, before it had a chance to burn her face, he was at her side, helping her to her feet (again). As she rose unsteadily, he helped dust her off, peering at her through those thin-framed glasses of his with subtle amusement.
"I make that four times, now," the Doctor informed her cheerily as she eyed the camel she'd just fallen from. "Care to make it fifth time lucky? And, if that doesn't work, I hear 'third time's the charm' also works for multiples of threes."
"Funny," she grunted, hopping up to mount the camel with grudging reluctance. Throwing a leg over, she grabbed hold of the reins and look back down at her alien friend; despite his advice as to her attire for the duration of their stay in Egypt, the Doctor had remained in his blue suit. "Well, it looks so much easier on –"
"On TV?" the Doctor finished with a good-natured wink as his nose wrinkled in boyish thought. He mounted his own camel with ease, almost like a pro which, given the space of time in which he had had to practice, he probably was – and hadn't he once mentioned something about trekking the Arabian desert with some guy called Lawrence? "Yeah, well, they also make it seem like you can walk with dinosaurs –"
"We have."
" – or fight vampires –"
"Ditto, and for the record? Not something I want to repeat any time soon."
"Ohh, yeah!" the Time Lord stroked his chin, remembering with a gleam in his eye. "Heh, Sherwood Forest! Last place I'd have expected to come across the Children of the Night...ah, variety! Don't you just love it?"
"I guess so," Martha conceded with a small smile, once again finding it impossible to remain in a bad mood around the man. Holding on for dear life as the camels took off again, she went on, "Just how did you get a hold of these monsters again?"
"Weelll," did he look guilty? "Once I'd assured the merchants that we weren't gods but, ah," yes, he definitely averted his eyes that time, "shamans, it was a simple task of acquiring these fine animals...as long as we meet with the gods and put in a good word for them ... maybe even wrangle a blessing or two...?"
"...you have got to be kidding."
"Nope," the Doctor frowned into the blazing sunlight, "but chances are it won't even be necessary to actually do so."
"Oh?"
"Because I'm pretty sure these aren't gods we're dealing with, or at least not the genuine article."
"What are they then?" Martha asked suspiciously, already wondering if anything the two of them came across would ever be as simple as it appeared to be in first light.
"I don't know," he began to answer as, with an anguished yelp, Martha tumbled from her camel for the fifth time. "But we'll find out, eventually...and, in the meantime, do you want to try and switch camels?"
What every Martha said may just have been as heated as the sand that filled her mouth.
"Okay," he feigned shock before jumping down to come to her aid, "I was only offering..."
"It is agreed, then?" Isis asked of the small gathering, now minus one member.
The four gods and the High Priest stood in a pool of dark blood that was slick beneath their bare feet. Priest Aruk was nowhere to be seen.
Well, that wasn't entirely true, for in the hands of Anubis was a small, purple, blood-drenched organ that was the focus of their attention, the squat, amalgam god snapping it's crocodile jaws impatiently as it eyed the heart. Snarling with disdain at his smaller cohort, the dog-headed creature returned his gaze to Isis', and nodded silently.
"The little priest has been judged," Isis went on evenly, "and he has been found guilty; render unto Ammut what is rightfully his."
Anubis nodded obediently and bowed, tossing the heart at the crocodile-headed god halfheartedly. Ammut opened his jaws wide to meet it, snapping it up with relish, chewing and chomping loud with appreciative growls.
"A word, Isis," the Hem netjer Mepheses sighed deeply, his scowling gaze drifting from the macabre sight at his feet to lock eyes with the fearsome woman. "I believe it is these people's belief that their heart is removed, judged and – as was the case here – eaten after they had died and passed onto the afterlife. Not while they're still breathing."
If the other three gods had been expecting the queen of them all to respond to this correction the same way she had dealt with the High Priest's subordinate, they were to be disappointed.
Instead, she smiled. "Yes, but you must it admit it is far more enjoyable this way."
Mepheses licked his lips with sheer delight; it had been fun.
"Our plans continue to go ahead without a hitch," Horus announced evenly, bowing a feathered head respectfully towards Isis as he interrupted. "The day is just over forty-eight hours away, and all is in place. When the flooding of their Nile takes place, we will be victorious, unstoppable..."
Isis nodded, her pinched features narrowing still as she pictured the moment. "And the waters shall rise up, consuming all! Old, young, rich, poor, sick and healthy, all shall be swept away and perish! The world will drown, and change forever...change so that it's new inheritors may live!"
A/N: Waaay too long since I updated this, sorry! I hope, with the new series well underway, that interest in this story hasn't vanished completely, as I promise to see it through. And what a story it will be! If you're curious or hooked now, you ain't seen nothing yet!