The avenue to the palace was a testament to the wealth of the pharaohs. Four great golems stood, two on each side, clusters of palm fronds in their hands. They towered over the wide street, waving the makeshift fans back and forth, stirring the air with a gentle, cooling breeze.
A legion of the Pharaoh’s soldiers, spearmen, archers, and the fearsome firefighters, who carried tanks of flammable liquid on their backs and could spray a rioting crowd with a deadly fire that would cling to flesh and burn even hotter when doused with water, guarded the entrance to the palace.
“Halt!” the nearest guard called out as they approached. “No slaves may approach the palace.”
“We are not slaves, we are emissaries from Canaan,” Aaron called back.
“You look like common Israelite scum,” the guard replied.
“W-we have t-t-t-travelled a long way and mu-mu-must speak with the Pharaoh,” Moses said, clutching his staff and wishing it would become a serpent, or even better a steam-driven mechanical gun that could slay a hundred men in a few seconds.
The guards laughed, and bowed with an exaggerated respect, “By all means your eminences, please come this way.”
Aaron and Moses entered the Pharaohs gate; the air inside the palace was cool and fresh. Moist air flowed around them, driven by hidden fans and channeled through pipes cut into the block work.
“Tell Pharaoh that Moses and Aaron have come to speak with him. It is a message of grave importance,” Aaron commanded.
“Sure, we will tell him that two beggars came to offer their wisdom to he who knows all. You stink of the field and of the sheep you lay with!”
Buckets of water tipped from high on the wall and doused the pair in a deluge that left them gasping and shocked.
“But first you must bathe!” the guards roared with laughter as they closed in, drawing the stout batons they used for beating recalcitrant slaves.
The beating put both men on their knees, arms over their heads, crying out for aid. The shouts and laughter of the guards was overheard by the Pharaoh’s sister and consort, the Princess Nefteri who entered the gates reclining in her litter, carried by four Nubian slaves.
She stopped her procession, seven litters carrying handmaidens, an honor guard of 100 riflemen, 30 virgins and an orchestra of musicians proclaiming her passing.
“Who are they?” she enquired from behind the silk drapes.
“Israelite slaves,” the captain of her guard reported a moment later.
“No slave shall be beaten to death within the confines of the palace walls,” Nefteri declared. “I cannot abide the smell when their bowels loosen.”
Nefteri’s word was law, only the Pharaoh himself could over rule her, so the beating ceased and Moses and Aaron were allowed to stand up.
“Princess Nefteri!” Aaron called to the litter, “We are emissaries from Canaan, and we crave an audience with divine Pharaoh.
Being in a pernicious mood, the princess waved her hand, “Allow it,” she told her captain. So Moses and Aaron, bearing their message from God were escorted into the presence of the great pharaoh.
The audience chamber was the largest room Moses had ever seen. Pillars of polished white stone rose up and spread into perfect arches that created open windows to the outer-gardens. The fresh breeze carried with it the scents of date palms, jasmine and scented oils. A line of guardian golems stood behind Pharaoh. Giant men clad in hardened iron, strong enough to resist a shot from a steam canon and armed with axes and swords that could split a boulder and reap men like wheat.
“Pharaoh!” Aaron declared, startling the royal court with his sudden outburst. “Yahweh, God of Jacob, of Isaac and of Abraham, commands us to your presence!”
The face of Pharaoh was gilded in gold and lapis-lazuli, each of his eyes were a hand span across and glittered with the facet of a single, giant, polished emerald. With a slow and ponderous turn the eyes turned from their gaze at the morning sun and regarded the two dripping wet men that stood in the wide audience chamber.
“Who speaks to us? We who are the sun and the moon? God of desert and water? Father of all the people of Khem? Giver of life to child, beast and machine?” the voice that boomed from the giant head was the voice of a god. The courtiers of Pharaoh bowed their heads.
“M-m-my n-n-name is Mo-mo-muh-moses,” the mechanical sheepherder stuttered. The pharaoh led the laughter that echoed around the court.
Aaron scowled and stepped forward, “Quiet!” he bellowed, sending the guardian golems shuffling in iron-footed agitation.
Silence fell over the gathering and the pharaoh’s eyes moved to regard Aaron more closely. No one had commanded him in such a manner in his entire life. “Who dares speak in our presence?” The pharaoh demanded.
“I am Aaron and this is my brother, Moses. We are ordered by Yahweh, the one true god, to command you, great pharaoh, to release the Israelites from their bondage!”
“Our people are not in bondage. We hold no slaves,” The head of Pharaoh nodded and the gathered court tittered in unison.
“L-l-let my p-up-up-puh-people go!” Moses blurted. The roar of laughter from the court crushed him into a blushing silence.
“Will you obey the word of the Lord God?” Aaron addressed the Pharaoh.
“We shall not; your god has no power in Khem.” Pharaoh’s gaze returned to guiding the sun in its course, indicating an end to the interruption.
Aaron’s grip on his staff tightened until the wood creaked, “You must free the Israelites from their endless labors. Allow them to travel into the desert, there to give thanks to the Lord God for three days and nights.”
“And let the machines fall idle? Let the stones remain uncut and the bread unbaked?” the magicians of the Pharaoh’s court came forward. Modification of their bodies elevated them towards the essence of divinity. Their bodies were a tapestry that defined the Khemites mastery of the spring and the machine. The first mage’s legs were gone and he sat embedded in a stove like engine. With a small chimney at the rear for the boiler smoke to escape and four wheels at the bottom that he steered by twisting his torso to adjust the tension of guiding cables.
The second had replaced his left arm with a simulacrum of ivory and red glass. It was beautifully crafted to resemble the musculature of a natural limb, with the skin pared away. The third wore crafted goggles with glass lenses that whirred in and out melded with the flesh of his face. A dozen flexible tubes of unknown purpose ran from the top of his head, down his back and returned to his flesh in the lower region of his spine. The third mage wore only a simple loincloth and his skin was a tattooed pattern of machina artistry. His entire body was an illustration of the cogs and clockworks of a complex automaton, as if he himself were not a living creature of breath and blood, but a constructed mechanical driven by Hebrew technology.
“Throw d-down your staff,” Moses muttered.
“What?” Aaron said.
“Throw d-down your st-staff.”
Aaron shrugged and tossed the stick on the floor. As it struck the marble slabs, the staff changed into a writhing mechanical serpent. Screams of shock and fear rang out across the court; the face of Pharaoh did not tremble. Fear was for mortal souls, not the living incarnation of Ra.
The crowd pressed back from the rearing snake. In unison the trio of sorcerers of the Pharaoh raised their own staffs and cast them to the floor. Three writhing machina sprang up from where the sticks fell. The face of Pharaoh twisted into a mechanical smile and he spoke with the delighted of a child, “You see!? Your god has no power here!”
Humiliated, Moses ducked his head and started for the exit, Aaron stood his ground. “Your wizards are powerful Pharaoh. But they cannot match the power of the Lord God.” Aaron’s serpent whirred forward and struck at the nearest conjuration. As the court watched, terrified of the magic being played out before them, Aaron’s snake devoured the first sorcerer’s staff and then the second of the wizard’s serpents was swallowed whole. The snake of Aaron grew l
arger and snapped its fangs at the final staff. The sorcerer desperately waved his hands and poured his power into the living staff. Aaron’s power was greater and his snake struck down the remaining serpent. The court fell silent as the last serpent fell. Aaron’s staff then returned to his hand and he switched it back to stick mode once again.
“Let m-my p-puh-people go!” Moses demanded of Pharaoh again.
The ruler of Khem was humiliated in front of his own people, “Never!” the great head shrieked.
Aaron watched the distant rooftops, near hidden in the haze. Somewhere out there a light flashed. “Moses,” he said, striding over to where his brother stood trembling with fury. “Watch this.” Aaron walked to the nearest fountain where pure water cascaded, cooling the desert warmed air. Plunging his staff into the torrent, the court watched as the water turned to oil, the stinking black liquid that lubricated the great machines, now gushed from every spring and fountain. The ebony torrent spread to every container, well and watering hole, until even the mighty Nile herself thickened and turned black. A foul stench fell over the palace, the buzzing of flies and the cries of horrified people reached the ears of the court.
“W-will you listen to the w-wuh-word of God?” Moses called to the Pharaoh.
“Get out!” the Pharaoh roared. Aaron and Moses shrugged, and with a confidence Moses did not feel, the brothers strode out of the Pharaoh’s court.
“How l-long do we w-wait for him to c-c-c-come to his sen-senses?” Moses asked.
“It can’t take long. Even a great kingdom like Khem cannot survive without water,” Aaron replied.
Moses nodded, the streets were filled with panicked citizens, men and women ran from well to well, crying out to each other as each bucket drawn up from the cool depths was found to be filled with the blood of the mechanicals. The two brothers wandered towards the shore of the Nile. The hundreds of barges, freight boats and fishing scows that lined the stone docks had been abandoned by terrified crew fleeing the black water. White shapes bobbed to the surface along the length of the sluggishly flowing river. The sailors and fishermen still thronging the bank and docks in a terrified mob, cried out to Pharaoh as the tide of oil brought dead fish washing up in their thousands on the mud beach.
“I h-hope this w-works,” Moses said.
“And quickly,” Aaron added. “We’re going to be stoned if the word gets out we are responsible.”
They made their way through the city to the Hebrew quarter, which at this time of day was mostly empty, the inhabitants hard at work on the worksites and pyramids of their masters. The few people Moses saw cowered in the shadows and the splashes of oil from knocked over water containers raised a stink that covered the squalor of the inhabitants.
“Wait here, I’m going to scout around,” Aaron said. By the time Moses had found the words to ask where his brother might be going at a time like this, he had already vanished into the smog.
“Brothers and sis-si-sisters!” Moses called to the mud huts. “I am Mo-Mo-Moses.
My b-brother Ah-aaron and I have been sent by the Lord God to dem-mm-mand that Pharaoh release His cho-cho-chosen people from their slavery!” A few people came out into the afternoon sunlight, watching with suspicion the stranger who stood in the street and preached.
“Go away!” A woman called, “You will bring the Pharaoh’s guard down upon us!”
“Have faith in the L-Lord! Your d-d-d-deliverance is at hand!” Moses shouted back. “The p-power of Yahweh has come to K-k-khem in the sign of the waters! The black wa-war-water you see is God’s c-c-command to Pharaoh!”
“How do you know that?” A man on a crutch hobbled out of a hovel and glared at the sheptech.
“I am G-g-god’s messenger. My brother struck the water with his staff and it turned to machine blood!” Moses forgot himself in his excitement to deliver the Lord’s message to the Israelites.
“You? You did this?” The cripple lurched forward, the others took up the cry and soon a small mob was forming around Moses.
“W-w-w-we are he-here to set you f-f-f-ree!” Moses shouted over the angry voices. “The Lord God has sent us!” he cried out. The first stones flew, snatched from the dusty ground, and within moments a hail of rocks were crashing down around his head.
Aaron made quick time through the narrow streets, he knew where he was going and after knocking on a rough-hewn doorpost he slipped past the ragged curtain and into the gloomy interior.
“Aaron,” Ben stood up from the table where he had been drinking wine, his hands were stained black with oil.
“Good to see you again brother,” Aaron embraced the man and grinned. “Your timing was immaculate,” he added.
Ben shrugged, “We are but the hammers that struck the blow. The true credit goes to you and the Elders for concocting such a diabolical plan.” He poured two mugs of wine and handed one to Aaron who took it and raised the goblet in salute.
“To the success of Operation Exodus,” Aaron said. They drank together.
“It went off without a hitch.” Ben said, swirling the remaining wine in his cup. “We broke into the main oil pipeline and diverted enough of the flow into the city’s reservoirs to foul the water supply for a couple of days.”
“Timing and a good dose of luck were on our side this time,” Aaron said.
“Is it true that your own brother is taking the fall?” Ben asked.
“Yes, Moses, the burning bush and voice of God convinced him.”
“Your b-b-brother fell for it?” Ben asked, mimicking Moses’s stutter.
“Do not underestimate him. Moses may be slow of speech, but he is a wise and devout man. He truly believes he is doing the Lord’s work. We must ensure that he never stops believing that. Without Moses suspicion could easily fall to us.”
Ben nodded and sipped his drink, “Our people will be free. We have the next plague lined up.”
“The frogs are ready?” Aaron asked.
“Yes. Berel has been overseeing the breeding program. We have millions of frogs in hidden cages up and down the river. At your command we unleash green hell.”
“I will bring Pharaoh and Moses to the river in the morning. Now I must get back to by brother. I left him soaking up the local ambience in the market square.” Aaron took his leave and hurried back through the narrow streets. An angry mob was forming where he left Moses and it sounded like someone was being attacked with stones and angry curses.
Fearing the worst, Aaron pushed his way through the crowd and found Moses dodging missiles and stuttering so badly he could not be understood. Seizing his brother’s arm, Aaron shouted, “As a wise sheptech once said, let’s get the flock out of here!” Moses nodded and arms over their heads, they ran through the crowd. They lost the stone throwers among the narrow streets between the mud-brick hovels. Haggard looking people watched them from the shadows, their lips already dry and cracked from thirst. Babies suckled at withered breasts and young children wept salt on their grime streaked cheeks.
“Wh-wa-what have we d-d-d-one?” Moses asked, gasping for breath as they stumbled to a halt.
“God’s will,” Aaron replied. “The Israelites shall suffer, not from the Lord’s hand, but from the cold-heart of the Pharaoh. The lesson learned will be harsh, but it will remain with us forever.”
“Our p-p-p-people’s suffering is increased te-te-ten-fold, how c-c-can the Lord heap this upon them when they are already in such p-p-p-pain?” Moses turned away from the dying children and with Aaron on his heels he hurried back through the city towards the Pharaoh’s palace.
“Your God has no power here,” the head of Pharaoh intoned from its throne. The hand of pharaoh moved with a smooth mechanical grace as he gestured for his sorcerers to come forward.
They each demonstrated in turn that they could cleanse the oil-filled containers with a simple process of filtering and distillation. The trio of sorcerers sneered at the brothers and Pharaoh’s golden face contorted and shook as he giggled in a girlish way.
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br /> “You’re god is nothing!” he shrilled.
“Now w-what?” Moses whispered to Aaron.
“Have faith,” Aaron whispered. “Oh great Pharaoh, the Lord God commands you to release his chosen people. If you refuse, you shall feel his wrath again.”
“Do your worst,” Pharaoh said.
“Come with us to the Nile,” Aaron said, “Bring your courtiers and your sorcerers.” Moses and Aaron led a strange procession. When the Pharaoh travelled outside the palace walls a vast army of supporters swung into action. Musicians, guards with rifles and flamethrowers, the towering golems, and a village of courtiers and slaves were all swept along in a grand clanking parade.
At the water’s edge, the fishermen of Khem fell to their knees and worshipped Pharaoh, giving their thanks for his divine power, which had cleansed the water of the Nile.
“Is the Lord speaking to you now?” Aaron asked Moses. His brother had a distracted look on his face, one ear cocked as if listening to a distant strain of music.
“Moses?” Aaron said again.
“Aaron, pass your staff over the waters, this is the command of the Lord,” Moses spoke in a voice that echoed with a power he did not possess. “Pharaoh, again the Lord God calls upon you to let his chosen people go into the desert to worship him. If you do not let my people go, a plague of frogs will rise in the land of Khem. The frogs will come into your homes, your ovens, your beds. Your halls and your kitchens will teem with them. The Lord God commands you once again, let my people go.”
Pharaoh merely sneered, “Your words have no power here Hebrew.”
At Moses’s nod, Aaron waved his staff over the waters of the Nile. The conspirators of Operation Exodus had been breeding frogs for over a year. As Aaron’s staff waved, they opened the pens and cages and freed an amphibian horde along the riverbank. A buzzing sound rose in the distance, and then from the mud and the rushes came a slithering and a croaking. The chorus rose and became a deafening roar. The water seethed and rippled, frogs burst from the mud and the papyrus. The ground itself heaved with the passing flood of the small animals. People laughed and cried out in mock disgust. Still more frogs poured out of the waters of the Nile, they were crushed underfoot and people began to slip in the slime of their smeared bodies.
The Exodus Conspiracy: An Old Testament Steampunk Adventure Page 2
