More may be needed
From those who embrace him.
Marai knew he himself had been reasonably healthy when the Children of Stone improved him, but the women had hosts of physical problems. Djerah had been dead for a few moments. A gentle but instructive voice, part Akaru and part his own sound, spoke in the middle of his thought clearing process.
The Djerah you knew
He who traveled with you,
Becomes another.
The one bonded to him,
You name this Yah
Which he chose,
had made a wise choice.
He is strong enough to function,
When his path is chosen, he will rise
He must sleep now with the new one
You must protect.
Thought so, he nodded silently.
“Here, help me bind his head, but keep the bandages off his nose, so it won’t mash down again. If it looks bad tomorrow I may have to brace it open with reeds as it heals.” He whispered in Naibe’s ear, then pressed and kissed her. “We need to keep him still and asleep for a while to let his own life force restart. It was already gone. Ari, you and your prince were right. He was dead. We just brought him back.”
“My prince? My prince? I should slap you,” she gripped her arms, vaguely nauseated.
Marai shrugged, but then noticed Deka had scooted back toward Maatkare. The sojourner was about to say something to her, but Naibe suddenly gripped his head and pulled it down to her breasts.
“Ohhh, my sweet love. This has weakened you. Come to me now.”
Marai trembled involuntarily. He barely noticed the way she looked over his head at the prince. He gasped, trembling and panting, still dizzied from the expansion of his thoughts so closely after the spending of his energy. He knew she didn’t realize she was using her command voice, but he was so spent from the transfer of life force that his thoughts couldn’t organize themselves. He had no defense against her softness and gentle way, her intoxicating scent, the curve of her belly, her firm and exquisitely shaped legs. She held his head and wove her fingers through his silvery hair while Ariennu gently bound Djerah’s head with the last of the clean linen.
The young man’s breathing was still very slow and shallow, but even.
Almost forgot, Marai noticed Prince Maatkare had regained his seat on the sheepskin rug. The general grabbed Deka as if he owned her when she moved within his reach. The moment he touched her, her brown-green eyes popped open wide; but glazed in a combination of horror and delight. The closed box lay in her lap, but suddenly opened on its own. Sixteen of the seventeen stones that had participated in the young man’s healing rose from Djerah’s body. They hovered a hands breadth above him, shimmered and began to emit an orb-like light. It was as if they were waiting on Marai to instruct them.
“Thank You, little ones. You’ve done so well. I’ll see he lives up to you; that we all do,” Marai looked up, smiling through his weariness as the orbs rose and began to migrate toward the box Deka held. He watched the anguish filter over her face when she heard his words: I’ll see he lives up to you; that we all do. When they had all returned, she snapped the box shut, set it down and turned to seek comfort in the prince’s arms.
Marai turned his head to look at them for a moment, still unable to shake off the feeling of re-kindling rage. He returned his gaze to his own armful of Naibe and then over to Ariennu who wearily pulled some cool, clean sheeting up over the resting young man. Marai wanted to hold her too and let Maatkare find his own way out of the tent without even bidding him the slightest courtesy. They were all exhausted.
“You all right, woman?” He saw Ari blinking and weaving a little.
“Yeah, Marai,” Ariennu whispered weakly, as if she was on the verge of collapse. “I do have to rest. You go be with Little One and I’ll be with Djee here. If he starts to fail, I guess our stones will wake me up.” She didn’t wait for the big man to answer, but folded Djerah’s left arm gently over his belly, then patted it affectionately.
How like a gentle mother she is, Marai thought for a moment. Too bad she never got to really be one in her life. Maybe… he started, but shook his head to stop the thought.
The woman lay beside the young stonecutter, then shuffled her position for a moment so she wouldn’t accidentally hurt him if she moved in her sleep. Soon, she drifted to sleep.
Marai cuddled Naibe-Ellit, then turned to stare quietly at Maatkare for a moment before he spoke. He didn’t know what possessed him to choose the topic other than his fatigue but all he could think of when he touched Naibe and felt her trembling in his embrace was how she had been mistreated by the man in front of him.
“You knew she carried a child, and still you…” Marai started, still dizzy and very weak, but in need of some kind of excuse or explanation.
The prince’s face took on a stoniness he didn’t expect.
“I’ve known that for a while… and that you presume much of goddess Tauret to think it’s your seed sprouting in her,” he affirmed, not wanting to look at Marai’s expression. “Perhaps she put her gifts to work in your absence, knowing the son of a prince or even a king would have more value than the son of a peasant.”
Don’t… even… start that with me or I swear to all the gods you will choke on the next words that come out of your mouth before they finish forming in your heart, Marai’s eyes silvered with evil.
Deka heard his thought and knew the prince must have heard it too. She sucked in a gasp and cautioned him, then turned and gave an apologetic glance back at the sojourner.
“If that, or whoever’s child it was even mattered to you, you’d have treated her better, but I know you merely sought to rule her as you do anything in your sight.” Marai continued, but added more quickly before the insult sank in.
“So, our demonstration of this ‘power’ and how the stone works has opened your eyes?” Marai’s voice lilted sarcastically. “Us… it has weakened,” he started, but noticed the sly smile that crept into the prince’s mouth. He knew exactly what Maatkare was thinking.
“Very well. Go ahead and have your men kill us while we rest, if that’s your wish,” Marai saw the prince shrug slightly as if to say he didn’t care if they lived or died. The sojourner looked in the direction of a jar that had held the women’s daily ration of honey beer. Without looking in it, he guessed it was empty. Ari had always a fierce drinker. Being made to participate in some killings would have given her a thirst that would have taken her to the bottom of the urn some time earlier.
“I don’t think you will kill us, though. We could use a little more beer, if one of your men could bring it…” he saluted, fully humble.
Maatkare rose with Deka in tow. An attitude of disgust radiated like a dark aura from him.
You will pay. Ask me for refreshment when you should be begging for your life? His thoughts hissed. He stuck his head out of the tent and motioned for one of the guards outside to enter and fetch the empty jar for him.
Child. Spoiled Child. Marai thought and knew the prince heard it because he paused and turned slightly, that same curled pout on his lips before he left.
In a few moments, the two guards placed the re-filled jar inside the tent. Marai tried to understand what Deka murmured to them in a language that was even further removed from the one the people of the Akaru used. She entered the tent alone and dipped a cup of beer for him, but blocked her eyes and her emotions from Marai as she served it.
Yet another tongue? Something she has remembered? Marai bent down to take the cup and sought her eyes again. He felt all of her torment instantly, but let her know he forgave her again. He still felt disappointed she had never tried to welcome him after he shied away from her in the Children of Stone’s sleep pod.
Go where you will, woman, his thoughts gave permission once again. Poor Deka, I wish it had been meant to be, but…
Don’t go from me, Man-sun. It’s not over. I just don’t know what’s next any more. I knew I wa
s to come here. I told you my reasons were not known to me. I still don’t know, but without you I had to choose another way, her eyes flashed.
It’s alright. I just want you to be happy, woman… that, and to stay beautiful as you are. He sighed and shook his head.
Nefira Sekhet Deka, he mentally repeated the name the prince had given her. Beautiful Sekhet; Sekhmet the Goddess whose birth was in Ta-Seti or Ta Netjer. But not her, after all, are you? Blood is familiar to you. So is the hunt. Your men say Menhit, the lion.
She shook her head “no” as if to say ‘not yet, I cannot overthink. I must be silent and allow truth to come; for my and his purpose to be learned.’
Stay a moment, Deka, Marai touched her shoulder. I always did know you were different.
Her stone was one of the different ones in the original group. It had been special from the start. He remembered fishing it out and holding it up to the light to start a fire that would cleanse the corpses of the thieves lying in the sand below his cave porch. It’s as if the Children knew of her before I started finding everyone. Maybe they knew of Naibe, Akaru, probably Wserkaf, oddly they allowed Djerah… all lost sheep for me to find?
The answer whispered in his thoughts below her recognition.
You have learned much
And we bear much sadness.
Remember, man of Ai
Whose race is of the stars
Learn from She
As she has taught ones in high places
Death is only part of a greater life.
Changes come to all,
Have great courage, and do not fail.
The prince interrupted the Children’s transmission when he stuck his head inside the tent to check on Deka. Her stay had been too long to suit him.
Marai smiled his gratitude, sipped the beer from the cup, and then offered Naibe some. Next, he offered it back to Prince Maatkare, half out of expected courtesy and half to see if he reacted to possible poison in the cup. That’s Old Hordjedtef’s trick, Sweet Horizon in the cup. But you would rather challenge me with your body and your heka, Marai mused.
The prince put up his hand to show disinterest, still lost in thought over all he had seen during the healing.
“Problem is;” Marai began, “and what irks you the most, is that you want to see and know so much more. You want to learn what the priests were afraid to teach you. You know they were afraid you actually might be king past the chosen ones. I believe that has always been your elder’s problem, too; that he was and is feared instead of respected. But, if you try to kill me and succeed…” his shoulders slumped.
Marai didn’t really want to welcome the prince into another discourse. He wanted to sleep.
Maatkare blinked again, frustrated that any witty response had abandoned him and that cruel or terse ones had also become air. Uncommonly, he looked at Deka’s downcast features and felt a strange sense of her aura beginning to surround and protect him with her power and grace. It drew him in like tentacles of need.
“So sleep. Don’t try to leave or take your things, though. I have guards on this tent who will wake the camp if you do anything more than piss in the night,” he towed Deka to his tent. Marai saw that her walk had become stumbly, but thought nothing about it for the moment. There was so much more he wanted to think about instead.
PART 4: RETURNINGS AND REVELATIONS
CHAPTER 24: REGROUPING
Marai drank in all of Naibe-Ellit’s beauty. The straw and wool-scrap-stuffed barrier between the shabby floor rug and their bodies had become the most luxurious bed on which he had ever rested. They were both exhausted, but neither of them could sleep. As he lay facing her, his hands cupped her breasts. He felt how hot and firm they had grown in his absence. She felt so good to him after so many months of remembering and dreaming of her. He wanted her, but worshipped her too deeply at this moment to enjoy the limitless passion of her body; to feel so full of her that he might burst.
“Are you well, Sher-ellit?” he asked, worried that this glory of a woman who had his child in her belly might somehow be snatched from him the way Ilara had been taken eons ago. He inspected her glorious ripening nipples with his mouth and tongue. His hand traced her slightly rounded belly, feeling its new firmness and knowing how much it begged for more of him inside it. He wanted her as recklessly as she wanted him, but knew they both needed to rest. The bottom of her wrapped shift had pulled apart just enough to admit his hand. He gently stroked her mound, feeling the lips of her kuna open wetly like the dewy petals of a flower. She sighed against him, then held his head to her breasts.
“I missed you so very much,” he whispered. That late afternoon, they both wept for joy, kissed, and held each other until they slept.
In the royal tent, Maatkare watched the woman Deka as she slept. He sensed she carried his child.
Perhaps it is her child by me that I have sensed, but my thoughts placed it in young Naibe’s body. Still, it would be good to claim a child of hers even though it could be my silly cousin’s w help or, from what I understand, the king’s or crown princes. There will be time enough for Nefira if I’m wrong, he thought. I know she has a fertile belly. She gave birth long ago, though she no longer bears the tattoos for it. She has the scent of a woman with a bud unfolding. These women, her and Naibe, seem to forget I am enough wolf that I can smell their changes, even through washings and perfumed oils. He checked on her again. Good... a nice deep sleep. I won’t be stopped, then. Even so, he spoke some words.
I have inquiries, gentle ones.
I must learn, if you would teach.
Maatkare sat cross-legged beside his bed, opened the box and studied the gentle shimmer that emanated from the stones. This way, with everyone asleep and too worn out to speak against me, perhaps I can convince these little god-stones that I have respectful intentions. He took two or three stones out at a time and examined them, then reflected on everything he had witnessed in the women’s tent. That led him to consider one more thing: Nefira Deka, though… I saw how she was when this sojourner showed up, suddenly alive and healthy. Is she safe from his influence now? Will she be drawn to return to him? Maatkare’s thoughts raced.
The other sojourners had worn themselves to their limit when they restored the life to his prisoner. His own reaction had been different. Maatkare felt oddly invigorated for having watched the process.
The distant squeal of sound from the tent where the prisoner lay intermittently reached his sharpened sense of hearing. It was evidence that the healing of the prisoner continued. The prince stuck his finger in one ear to wiggle it, but the sound remained the same.
Heka. It’s just Sekhem. I studied this in priestly schools and used touch on the woman Naibe when she drowned. I know there is also healing Heka with light, color, and sound vibration, but this was so much stronger when these little ones boosted it through all of the others. They caused this worthless piece of trash to live. Whatever for? Their sense of mercy for him makes a problem for me now. My men will wonder if I let him go. He still killed my men and led a raid. Ntr stones notwithstanding, he must still pay for his crime.
He looked back at the sleeping woman sprawled on his bed, exhausted from her part in this. They needed you, Nefira Deka, didn’t they? He considered that she had brought the box of stones when they came to the tent to watch. If she had left these stones, or if we hadn’t gone to their tent, would any of this have worked? Once I have learned what there is to know of them, I can deal with the other matters. She’ll rest now. When she wakes, she will speak to me of the son she will give me. If not, perhaps I shall grow weary of her, as well.
While he waited for her to wake, the prince picked up an impossibly good malachite patterned with some lighter waves. He’d been told his own eyes looked a dark olive green with amber lights although the clearest mirrors or water never reflected such a cherished color.
That green stone was the one the sojourners had first placed on the prisoner’s brow. As if it hadn’t been the right fi
t, they had moved it to his cheek to absorb the blood and fluid during the healing. The prince held it up to the light to see if it still held blood or did anything further on its own. When it remained silent, he whimsically placed it on his brow.
An immediate flash of light and heat, followed by coolness, assaulted the place where he touched it to his head. He fumbled with it in a rush of both fear and excitement. His breath quickened as he held it in place with his left hand.
When he chased animals in a hunt or even when he charged into a battle with his men, he felt the same thought-numbing feeling. At any moment, he knew he might make a fatal mistake. It was what the thrill of hunting on foot with bow and spear, just as the ancestors had hunted was all about.
Fear? he asked himself. No. Not fear. This is more than that; a lot more, he felt desperate. His breath came in hiccoughing gasps of joy that bordered on mad laughter. The stone settled, causing a slightly painful sensation in his brow, as if it was biting him. His eyes rolled back in his head from the combination of pain and ecstasy. The taste of blood in his throat filled him with ravenous hunger, but he choked on its thick salty warmth. Another fit of trembling left him feeling stronger, but intensely aware of sounds and smells. A growl that began in his throat and swept through his entire being formed. His lips slavered and foamed. The claws on his right hand went to his mouth to find that his teeth had grown sharp and long. With a silent howl he pitched backward on the reed matting covering his tent floor.
Wepwawet! Anpu Wolf! The Dog god. Son of Sutek. Animal within. My animal. My little one. My black dog, he breathed. He had tried to access that ravenous energy in every part of his life and study with only limited success, despite the warnings of his teachers against fully taking beast form, unguided.
Ha! Like telling a child who makes an ugly face that it might stick that way… Amazing! He plucked the stone, which had nearly attached itself, and flung it away.
In a moment, when he came to his senses, he sought it from under his camp bed, then gently picked it up and returned it to the box. He froze at the sound of an echoed, growling voice.
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