The Dark Evolution Chronicles
Book 1
by
Cassandra Di Rossi
A Wild Wolf Publication
Published by Wild Wolf Publishing in 2020
Copyright © 2019 Cassandra Di Rossi
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales, or any other entity, is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
www.wildwolfpublishing.com
For Paris
With thanks to Gabby for all her advice.
Historical Note
I have tried to be historically faithful to the theology and archaeology of ancient Egypt.
The names and locations of the cities, and many of the people involved are as accurate as can be recalled. Though I have taken a liberty with some of the descriptions of both people and places, especially that of Homer, and the catacombs at Alexandria.
Contents
River of Blood
Book of Darkness
The Dorian
The Iliad
Empires
Arsinoe
Author
River of Blood
The nation was great, and its name powerful. The Gods had made it so. Yet with great power does not always come respect.
The mighty king did not take care for all his people equally. One God raised his voice above all others, and spoke against him. And told the king’s son to turn upon him, and lead the lowly people to the Promised Land. Thence they fled across the River of Blood.
Book of Darkness C1000 BCE
Chapter 5 Paragraph 1
The scurry of tiny feet caught my ears. I was so hungry I could not resist the hunt. I listened carefully. Teeth crunched down upon a stale morsel of grain. I waited, eyes closed, pinpointing the exact place where it was sitting. The poor thing knew not what I was, nor from where I came. In one swift silent move, I was upon it. I did not open my eyes, for I hate to see fear in any creature.
The hunger had been biting into me for many days, driving me deeper and deeper into the recess of my darkest memories. Though my heart ached for all that I had lost, the thinning blood pumping through my veins was all that I could feel. No matter how desperate situations may seem to the mind, the body will always fight to survive. And so I sank my sharpened teeth through the damp fur into the animal's scrawny flesh.
The ship jerked. I slipped forward, biting harder. The rat squealed until its very last heartbeat. I pitied it, but the hunger is stronger than pity. I threw the exsanguinated corpse on the pile of others behind the wine vats and waited hopefully.
I shall always hate travelling by boat. It felt as though months had passed since we had last walked upon dry land, though it was only a matter of twenty days. I had counted them with each sunset and marked them with a fishing hook into the wood behind my makeshift bed.
My companions and the ship's crew slept on deck. When the sun dropped below the horizon I would creep out from my hiding place behind the stack of grain jars, and climb up above to breathe in the fresh night air, walking among their sleeping bodies like a ghost. Sometimes Paris would wait for me. Once he took my hand, just for a moment.
I missed daylight, even that of the shadows to which I was always confined, but I knew the crew must not see me. Better they did not know they carried a goddess on board. Paris knew a young Egyptian boy on the crew who had covered for us well. It was not easy to hide my heritage. I had camouflaged my hair with dark herbs that made it brown. As we had stepped on board I stooped to disguise my height, kept my eyes lowered, and wore a long robe to cover my pale skin. Below deck I had gone, and there I had stayed. The oarsmen even forgot my presence after a while.
The ship jerked again and I could hear the sound of the heavy anchor rope land on a jetty. My heart leapt. We were finally there. Men above scrambled about, and I knew it would only be a moment or two before someone came down to the hold. I needed to get out before I was seen. I peered up through a gap in the wooden planks above. The crew was everywhere, hauling cargo up and down the gangplank and onto the jetty. More men were counting and marking dockets. I took my chance, climbed up on deck, hoping that I would not be noticed amidst the bustle, and leapt from the back of the boat into the shallow water. I stood there for a moment taking in the scene as the cool waves lapped against my skin.
The Egyptian city rose up behind the docks in neat rows of large square buildings. Even at the late hour it was buzzing with activity. Large torches were staked into the ground all around, lighting the streets. The lime-washed walls shimmered yellow behind the flames. Somewhere nearby horses were whinnying and clopping, and the air smelled of manure and straw. This was my home now. I drew a sharp breath and ran swiftly up the beach.
A moment later I was standing quite still by a tall palm tree at the far end of the jetty. I looked around, but there was no sign of my friends. My heart sank as I considered that now we were safe we might all go our separate ways. I often have dreams that transpire to come true. And though I experienced many such visions in the confines of the ship, I had not once been able to see what would become of Paris after our arrival in Egypt.
"Lord Zeus! What a place!"
"Zoe, there you are." I gasped in relief. I looked down at the young woman and noticed, perhaps for the first time, just how much she had grown since we had first met almost two years before. Back then she had been a scrap of a girl, brave and observant, but a child non-the-less. Now she was standing almost to my shoulder in height. She still wore her hair in a plait that trailed down her back, but her features had grown soft and more feminine, and her mind was sharper than ever. She grinned at me,
"Of course Mistress, where else would I be?"
I smiled gratefully.
"You know, you are not my maid anymore Zoe, you do not have to be formal now," I said. But she wasn't listening.
"That must be the palace," she said, pointing to a vast building in the distance."
"Yes," I sighed, feeling the weight of my past. "I still cannot believe Troy is gone, that they are… all gone." I mumbled. I saw that Zoe too was fighting back tears. Two homes I had lost to war and destruction, two families I had said goodbye to. I could only hope that this new beginning would not end the same.
"These must be the refugees," a deep round voice bellowed close by. His accent was noticeable, but his Greek clear to understand. For a moment I looked around to see whom he might mean, and then it dawned upon me that he was referring to us.
"Yes, sir. I am Alexander Paris of Troy."
I near choked from the shock of hearing Paris's voice, so certain I was that he had left without us. I turned to look at him. His leonine hair was bright beneath the light of a flickering torch. I wanted to reach for his hand, but I did not.
"This is my sister, Cassandra, and our cousin, Zoe," he added.
"Cousin?" whispered Zoe.
"Shhh, perhaps it is best they think we are all family," I hissed back.
Standing with Paris was the young boy
from the ship and a very large Kushite. So muscular was he that I imagined he could take on a God in a fight and win, and I had never seen a man so dark before. Vampyr have no melanin in our skin, leaving us pale and susceptible to extreme burns when in contact with direct sunlight. I found it difficult to tear away my eyes from the man. His skin was so black he blended into the night and his features so smooth I wanted to reach out and touch him.
"Prince Paris?" The man said with his gaze shifting from my friend, to me.
I turned away and hoped that he had not noticed me staring. Paris looked dismayed for a moment but then forced a smile.
"Yes, sir. I was once a prince. But now I am just Alexander Paris, at the service of your good king," he bowed as though Ramses were right there.
The man looked me up and down with curiosity. It must have been quite confusing to see a creature such as me dressed as a humble servant, with tattered hair and dulled eyes and skin.
"I thought all your family were killed?"
"Almost all, sir. But as you see, we three remain," my prince replied.
The Kushite looked at Paris, then back at me.
Paris cleared his throat.
"Cassandra was adopted by my parents’ sir." His explanation sounded awkward, despite the truth of it. He rolled his shoulders a little, and I wondered if the scar that cut across his back was still painful.
"I see," said the Kushite with a somewhat doubtful tone. "Very well. Exiled or not, you are royal, and therefore I should take you to the palace. My heart sank. I glared at Paris with annoyance. I had hoped for a quiet existence far away from court life and the public gaze.
Paris shrugged at me apologetically. With nothing to eat but rodents for the past three weeks, my head was not clear enough for any argument, so I acquiesced.
A few moments later we were standing in the back of a small ox cart and hurtling along the bumpy road. We were jammed together so tight, gripping on to the sides as we swung about, that I expected at any moment we would tumble out.
But then we made a left turn and there we were, on the Kings Road of the famous Pi-Ramesses, the vast palace gate looming up before us. The entrance was marked by two huge statues of what I presumed was the pharaoh. It was hard to tell in the darkness, for the statues were so high.
"I think his heads must be in the clouds on an overcast day," Zoe grinned.
"I think you are right," I agreed.
Suddenly we came to a stop and we three crashed forwards onto the dusty wooden floor of the cart. Prince or not, there was no grand entrance for Trojan refugees.
A guard came to speak with the driver in Egyptian, which I understood little of back then, and before we knew what was happening we were hurried away through the palace doors and into a little anti-chamber. The only light was from an oil lamp placed on a low offering table in front of what I presumed was another, much smaller statue of His Highness.
"The king sure likes to see images of himself," Zoe whispered with a giggle.
"Well he is a great king," Paris replied with a nod towards the door to the main chamber. "He might be listening," he mouthed.
He need not have worried, for, at that moment, shouting could be heard coming from elsewhere in the palace, and the voices were drawing closer.
"Parameses, how many times have I told you, these people are heretics? We cannot condone their religion, it is against everything that is the Egyptian way of life!" The voice was near as round and booming as the Kushite customs officer's back at the docks.
"But father, they are following the teachings of a king, a pharaoh like yourself. One born to be king from the old dynasties."
The men stopped walking.
"What are you suggesting?"
There was an awkward pause.
"Nothing father, merely that this religion is as Egyptian as yours."
There was another even more uncomfortable pause.
"Are you trying to tell me that you have converted to this…what are they calling themselves now?
"Hebrew."
"What? Where did that come from? Are they not the followers of the Aten? It was a ridiculous notion created by that terrible heretic to make an utter mockery of our society?"
"I…Yes, and no, father. The faith is older than Arken… the heretic. It is believed his ideas were based on the teachings of a chief god brought here by Canaanite nobles in his grandfather's day. The heretic just used them to his own end," his words trailed away.
Footsteps began again.
"You did not answer my question. Have you or have you not converted?"
"I…a voice from the heavens spoke to me and…I think this notion of monotheism makes sense sir. I…erm…it seems to me that…"
There was a loud thump, followed by a gasp and stumble.
"If I ever hear you speak such nonsense again I shall have you removed from the palace and dispatched to some foreign outpost, do you hear?"
"But father, all I am asking is that you allow these people to practice their faith." There was another thump and a much louder thud as though someone had fallen to the ground.
"Do you hear?" The older voice bellowed.
"Yes, father."
We three looked at each other with horrified expectations. I was quite certain that the Great Ramses the Second was going to be so terrifying on site that I would wish to run back to the horrible confines of the boat and sail away again.
The footsteps finally drew to a halt outside our anti-chamber. There was a muffled conversation, and finally, the door creaked open to reveal a slight man with a beaky nose, hair near as red as my own usually is, and barely a finger taller than Zoe.
For a moment we stared, unsure if this was Pharaoh or some emissary he had sent to greet us. But then the guard at the door looked so nervous when we did not immediately bow that we settled that it must be the man himself.
I dropped a courtesy and offered him my hand.
"So, you are what remains of Troy?" As soon as he spoke I knew he was indeed the king. His voice was just so much bigger than his stature.
"Yes, Your Highness. I am Alexander Paris, and these are my…"
"Yes I have been informed," he butted in, "though, you, you are quite…"
He was staring right at me in a way most humans would not dare to. His affront took me off guard and I had to fight myself not to draw him into my mind, though he seemed to have no trouble keeping me out of his.
"My, my, why did they not tell me you are a Vampyr?"
The king's eyes were as bright and round as a hawk. His gaze darted over my face and body with sharp curiosity. No human had ever referred to me, or any of my kind, by name before. Not to me anyway.
"Perhaps you prefer the term goddess," his face broke into a smile so suddenly I stepped back in surprise. "Forgive me, Your Grace, it must come as quite a shock that a human should know what you really are."
Paris was staring at me. He rubbed a hand over his damaged shoulder nervously and Zoe was looking down at her feet. Both my friends had come to know my true nature: Zoe because I shared it with her through a vision, and Paris because his kindness toward me had led to observation.
"Oh, my dear." The king was still holding my fingers in his. He raised them to his lips and kissed them. "Do not fret. I have no intentions of causing you any distress."
"I…Your Highness is our…" I swallowed over the words uncomfortably, "nature…common knowledge in Egypt?"
At this, he threw back his head and gave such a hearty laugh that I thought his stomach might burst.
"No, no, of course not. But I am pharaoh, and I know everything. My grandfather may not have been born to a royal line, but the gods created his spirits. I am as divine as you are my dear."
His affectionate term, my dear, reminded me so much of our beloved Trojan King and father, Priam, that I could have wept. Paris felt it too, for I saw him quickly wipe a tear from the corner of his eyes.
"All I lack is your physical immortality."
For a moment
, I thought he might ask me to ‘turn him' into one of us. But then he added,
"Not that I would wish for that. Believe me, I have connections that could arrange it at the click of my fingers, but no, I prefer a more earthy immortality, that of the spirits, not the body." His lips curled into a wry smile.
"You know of our home; Vampyr?" I spluttered.
"In a galaxy far across the sky. Yes, my dear. As I said, I am pharaoh, I know everything."
"Oh," was about all I could manage in response.
"Now, the palace, as you might well have heard, is not the most peaceful place to be at present. You will be best served in a home of your own. I am sure we can find you a nice little villa."
"You are very kind Your Highness, very kind." Paris bowed and went to kiss the Pharaoh's hand, but Ramses was already through the door and instructing the guard to find us lodgings.
"What an extraordinary man," Paris said a few moments later when we were back in the oxcart and on our way to Zeus knew where.
*
Pi-Ramesses was an island of near-mythical status, situated at the point where the Nile Delta was at its most lush and fertile. Fields surrounded around the city, Sacred Ibis waded between the reeds that rose up from the river in thick clumps, and trees swayed in the breeze along the riverbanks. Many of the larger homes had gardens crammed with plants and flowers that filled the air with sweet scents. It was beautiful by all accounts. Ramses had built a grand and elegant city. Even the more crowded streets of the west and central districts were majestic. At first glance it appeared we were in a most prosperous and happy place. Yet, we quickly noticed that the palace was not the only seat of tension. Though no one seemed to want to explain why there was a dark oppression hanging over the people of Egypt's capital like a great storm cloud waiting to break. Eyes looked tired, jaws gritted and tense. People walked with their heads hung down so no one had to look each other in the eye.
The Dark Evolution Chronicles Page 1
