by L M Adams
At times he breaks his silence to point out bits of the palace, gives me stories of each part, “The gardens are of course gifts from the children of Isis, just as the children of Atum come to maintain and add to the palace, children of Ishtar bring order and design plans, schedules for services. Some spend their lives here, devoted to the care of the city Atum.”
“It is their heart song?”
He nods.
“Was teaching always your heart song?”
“No,” he shakes his head, “I was a high priest in the order of Isis. The majic of time had always been my calling… or so I thought; at least until your mother received the calling and came to power… she was the last incarnation of Isis. The betrayers did not know of what they did when they took her from us.”
“My father punished Jabari badly,” I whisper.
“Your father…” Henenu sighs, “he is an ancient thing, Hari. God power can tear mortal flesh apart. He acted with anger… you acted with anger, there with Ojore.”
“He provoked…”
“You are the son of a god and goddess, remember it!”
“Yes, Master Henenu,” I murmur.
“I apologize Hari, it is not my intent to chastise you.”
“You never wished me to be a warrior… you were afraid I’d hurt people… you were right.”
“I dedicated my life to trying to teach you of things other than war. But all your heart would sing of was battle. You did not understand the cost of life…”
“I learned…” I whisper.
“Far too soon,” he nods, “you learned.”
We walk in silence the rest of the way through the palace, he leads me to the west side of the palace. To the right of us is a large wood wall, made with small carvings that look more like puzzle pieces fitted together. The wall does not match the rest of the palace…
“That is your father’s place.” Henenu whispers.
I nod with understanding and follow him forward, past the gold spears stationed in front of the wall, silent and deadly they guard my father’s home.
“Nassor says there are no more Guardians.”
Henenu nods, “The mantles were ended after your mother. Apedemak is the last and still holds the mantle of the lion.”
“In the future, there are therians, child therians.”
“This is not possible Hari. The mantles are earned, never a birthright.”
I nod, “I speak the truth. The Wench… she and I made them, although they do not have one beast, they change to many types.”
“Your children?”
“No… no… they were the babes of the cursed therians. The men that killed my mother went north… they lived and passed down their power. A small goddess of the cold north, the wolf mother, will find them, and give them their power back… a twisted version of it at least. The Wench and I used our love to fix the babes, they were dying.”
“They were not sent away to live and have children and pass down their evil ways.”
I nod, “This I know, it took much for me to open my heart to them. But in the end, I did. The fallen ones did much evil in the future too…” I tell Henenu of the Sacred Bones and all that happened, but I also tell him of the man named Quinn Monroe and his sacrifice. All peoples are not one way or the other – there is good and bad in all. The Wench showed me that.
“And you welcome their children?”
I sigh with a nod, “I will not curse a child for the sins of their father.”
“Not as Ra did…”
I nod, “I cannot let such bitterness into my heart, there would be no end to it.”
“Then you are your mother’s son indeed.”
His words make me smile, “Why did the Raja let the betrayers live?”
“It is our law, Hari. After splitting the world – it is law, the people cannot slay the people. We may never raise our sword to our own kind.”
But we can burn them half to death? I do not ask this question because I fear the answer, I fear that my father did not mean to burn Jabari… but he could not control himself. As I cannot control myself at times either, and no one was strong enough to punish Apedemak for his rashness.
We step out into the bright sun and go down the stairs to a large open paver laid concourse. People are walking about the area lined with rows and rows of stairs going up to small temples.
“The walk of gods,” Henenu whispers as I look around at the grandness of this place. To our right, the tallest tower is Apedemak’s tower. A single window high up on the tower, to let only a bit of Ra’s sun inside.
Does my father starve himself of Ra’s power so that he may maintain control? Does he punish himself for my mother? For Jabari?
Still, there are people kneeling in front of his tower, heads bowed, praying.
“People still worship the gods?”
He nods, “We still love them.”
“Even after they tried to end the people.”
“Many fought for us, yes?”
I nod.
“And the war was our fault.”
“How…”
“It was the people who became jealous of the power of the gods and their scion. We became jealous of men like you and your father, became angry and vengeful.”
“The way Ojore is to me.”
Henenu nods.
“But I have never wished him harm, I only wish there to be peace between us. If he did not see me with such anger… I would open my heart to him as a brother.”
“You say this, but when he does not submit to your will… you pin him down and force him to call you his Master. You belittle him in front of others and make him small and take his pride to bolster your own.”
I sigh hanging my head, “You are right, Henenu. I have had a hard day with my mates, and I took out that anger on Ojore.”
“And now you have made an enemy, when perhaps there was a chance to make a friend.”
I shake my head no, “He has never wanted to be my friend… but I could have won the fight without need to shame him.”
“We need to mend this rift between the gods and the peoples, Hari. This discourse you have with Ojore is from the same rotten fruit.”
“How am I to do this?” I ask not understanding what he wishes of me.
“I do not know, Hari. Even if you believe I know all things… I do not.”
I smile, “I thought knowledge was your only god.”
He shakes his head, seeming sad. “It is always a child of Isis that betrays the people to Set, our thirst for knowledge can also be a curse. There are some things not meant for mortal minds… or hearts. But we do not believe any knowledge is bad, that is our greatest folly.”
He sighs deeply, “I know it is not fair that all of the sins, our sins… my sins, are now laid at your feet, Hari. I know you do not wish this, and this is not fair. But I believe that you can find a way to save our people, if not here, then there in our future – perhaps you are not the Raja of now, but that would not mean you are not the Raja of then.”
I shake my head no. “It is different in the future, Master. There are human laws and lands. They do not follow the ways of the old gods. Even if they did, the Kindred still holds the old gods and will not let them free, they still believe releasing them will cause an end to all things.”
“It is not the way for the Kindred to decide this, it is and shall always be the domain of the Almasa … the Eventides, to decide when god power should be returned to the realm of man – it is their karma, your karma.”
“How do you know this will not cause a new war?”
“I do not know, all that I know is that we are made in their image, and the way we have parted ourselves from their presence is like parting soul from body – it is a thing not meant to be or meant to last.” He sighs, “We were desperate Hari, the gods had found our people unworthy, they wished to end our existence and we wished to live.”
“There is nothing wrong with that.”
He looks at me, brown and go
ld eyes swirling with tears and time… “Yes, Hari, yes there is… when I think of the cost.”
Henenu witnessed the fall of the gods and splitting of the worlds, he was alive during the times of Horus and Set. He remembers what we were and cannot be again. At times, knowledge is a weight on the soul.
Henenu lets me think upon this as is his way as we walk down the open concourse, past the temples of Isis, Ishtar, Bastet, Oson, Mwari, Sekhmet, and yes, even Set… and so many more. The people leave small offerings on the steps. Fruits, coins, candles, other bits of this or that.
They kneel and pray and believe that the gods will hear them. But the power of the gods on their earth is dying, Apedemak will be the last of the true gods… the last for a long time.
93
Lucien – God of fire
Henenu leads me to the temple of Ra, it sits at the opposite end of the concourse, facing east towards the sunrise. Ra’s temple is the only one larger than the others, yet Apedemak’s tower is taller, casting a shadow on Ra’s reign. A curious choice for my father. Spitting in the eye of our father-god.
The temple of Ra is protected by two female stone guardians – both with the heads of the lioness.
“Sekhmet and Bastet,” I whisper as we walk up the stairs, the two statues positioned at the top looking out across the Walk of Gods.
“Daughters and protectors of Ra, it is good to see you have remembered your lessons.”
Sekhmet and Bastet, a mother and daughter pair, as Ra and Horus as father and son. Only female therians carry their mantle, the mantle of the lioness. Both caring and fearsome. It is said that Sekhmet was the one who hunted down the followers of Set during the wars of Horus and Set.
I feel their majic here… they guard this place still.
The temple of Ra is square, the doorway large and looming with a triangle at the top and the sun disc of Ra at the top of a triangle. On the walls of either side of the doorway, carved figures are adorned, telling the story of Ra’s creation, his battles and travels into the twelve levels of the underworld.
Henenu stops at the entrance, “This is for you and only you, Hari.”
I look at my tutor, unsure if I’m ready, “I have never been to a temple of Ra. I do not know the ways.”
“Your heart shall remember,” he turns and walks away, going back down the stairs.
The old man and more of his cryptic knowledge.
I look back at the temple, looming above me. I know of the stories of my father, the lion-headed god-king Apedemak. He who slayed a thousand monsters and then a thousand more in service to Ra, and so Ra blessed him, and called him son and made him sun. He would rise to be the next king of Atum.
His heart still burned with the fury of war and the only thing that could cool him was the light of his star, his Zahra. She was the daughter of Isis and a worshipper of Nuit, a time dweller. Until one night the Goddess Ishtar called her to service, for the men of Atum had been at war for too long and their hearts had forgotten about all else.
It would be my mother who led the Isis’s to the lands of Atum to cool the rage that had once protected the peoples from the gods who would have seen them ended – yet now threatened those same people.
I came from the love between Apedemak and Zahra. I am the young lion, descendent of Ra.
This is your place, my son; these are your people. I feel my mother’s support move in my spirit. My heart is steady as I walk forward. The temple doors open but I cannot see past the threshold, the inside a pitch black, where no sunlight will break through.
As I step beyond the threshold, my flesh prickles with majic. There is nothing but pitch black and the smell of frankincense. No sound, the air so silent I can hear the blood rush through my mighty veins.
I don’t walk any further, apprehension filling me.
Am I afraid?
I walk forward, trusting myself and my mother – that I am in the right place, at the right time. The darkness seems to swallow up my light. I turn but there is no door back to the Walk of Gods, there is nothing but the darkness.
Perhaps a normal man would fall to their knees and pray for the sun; but I am not a normal man.
I turn back around, letting my wings of fire unfurl from my stigmata. It is not a power I have to call to, it is always there. I am Hari, the young lion, blessed of Ra. I am the vengeance of god.
The wings expand up and out, spitting with red and gold fire. Sparks fly and fall down to the floor to hiss upon the stone. My back aches with the power, there is so much, always so much there, always ready to turn the world to burning ember.
I take two steps forward and the room explodes into fire. Rolling flame billows up from the floors, out from the walls… my heart trembles with the power of Ra.
Reality begins vibrating around me, matter shuddering with power. The flames reveal walls and pillars covered in the writings of my peoples… the stories of Ra – the ruler of the sky, the earth, the moon and the underworld. He, the I Am, the god of the sun and of kings.
My clothing burns from my flesh as I am purified in his fires. I close my eyes and hold out my arms, welcoming his flame and power. Letting the majic of Ra fill me and know me, as the naked flame rolls over my flesh… yet does not burn.
In my heart and mind I see the brilliance of the sun, so alone, so alone and so distant… too powerful to be close to the ones he loves; yet his power is never far – neither his love nor his might.
The weight of his majic is heavy, so unbelievably heavy. We the sons of Ra must always have control. Must always be sure to not hurt the things we love the most.
No one must know… no one could understand, there is a madness in our blood.
The power of Ra knows me better than I know myself. It is not a voice, it is an emotion – the people need me, even as they have forgotten me.
The people were not meant to live apart from the gods.
Is it then my responsibility – my purpose to bring about the ascension, to mend the brokenness of the lands and of the hearts?
He is the I Am, and I am his son.
Apedemak has lost his way. Closed inside a dark tower with only a sliver of Ra’s true power filling him. Apedemak lost control and he has forgotten what he is.
I shall remember, I shall remind.
I am Hari, the young lion, the savior of the people.
94
Lucien – The cost of love
The power of Ra left me and when I opened my eyes next, I was at the doorway that lead back out to the walk of gods, my clothing the same… even the hole in my shirt from where the Bloodsucker threw the knife into my chest. When I looked back into the temple, it was as dark as it first appeared.
Did I imagine that all?
No, it cannot be, I felt the raw power of Ra, I knew of him and we. I was reminded of my purpose.
I know why we are here…
We must stay. The gods must return – it is time.
I return to our rooms, ready to make peace with Capaneus and Jaevia. Ready to try and do something to make things right. What is my pride worth if I end up in a cold dark room away from everything and everyone I love like my father? I could win the war – but I would lose all of the battles that matter.
If I wish to see the gods returned from the clutches of the Kindred, I will need them like never before. But how can I convince them that this is right and just?
Perhaps I am preoccupied, I walk five feet into our bedroom before I realize what is happening in my bed.
My mates, fucking, with complete abandon.
The sight brings me up short, making my need erupt with fire. I love seeing the Wench in coitus. There is a sickness in me that I have never wished to gaze at too closely for fear of what I would see there.
She’s wild as she rides our Capaneus reverse, abs flexing, hips grinding, tits bouncing as she plays hide and go seek with his cock. Her juices run down his shaft and flow onto his tight sack. His need is wild in the link, he has no control when it comes to being
inside of the Wench.
Our wife has always played a vicious game with him, she withholds the joy of her kitten, when he’s finally allowed inside, he’s filled with a certain madness.
With me, she withholds her sweet filthy mouth, never sucking my cock often or long enough. I stare at her full pink lips, opened on a gentle ‘O’ as she lets the Bloodsucker know how good he feels inside of her.
I rub my hardening shaft through my pants, growling with pleasure on the edge of becoming unmanageable, something inside of me wishing to go to hunt. Temper Lucien, temper the flame that burns – I whisper to my own heart. But the desire is still there, the desire to take my vixen to the edge of death with my cock down her throat and her lying eyes full of tears, begging me to let her breathe. My need to plunder the Bloodsucker’s rose and drive out all thoughts of another man having claim to what I wish to own… even if I must destroy the thing I love, to have it.
They must never know the darkness in my heart – temper the flame Lucien.
For the first time in a long time, I feel jealousy as I watch them together. But it is not jealousy that the Wench is sharing herself with another. Instead, I feel jealousy that the Wench gets to have our Capaneus this way, in love and gentleness. No one is crying, no one is screaming or begging, even their auras glow with connection and peace and I cannot be joined with him in the same – and I feel… angry.
I need him too; I need his loving too.
Jaevia opens her eyes to look at me, a knowing look. She knows I like to watch her, “come Luey, we’ve been waiting for you,” she smiles gently, and I feel my anger dissipate.
“I’m dirty,” I whisper.
“We don’t mind,” she smiles and moans. The Bloodsucker’s hands grip her hips, his fingertips digging into her flesh.
“I’m close,” he whimpers.
“Not until Lucien joins us.”
“Please Lucien!” Capaneus begs for me and my heart pounds with longing, wishing to be wanted.
