War of Mortal Gods

by Kipjo K Ewers

Ma’at’s face read that she did not like where he was going with this conversation.

  “Amun-Ra gave final instruction for you to deal with me after I made this offense, and you must carry it out when the time comes.”

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Minutes later, Laurence’s eyes reverted to normal as he awoke, returning from the astral plane. He gazed up at Ma’at, who also returned wearing the same sad, painful expression she had after the astral plane conversation.

  Her face communicated her feelings to him.

  “Please don’t make me do this …please.”

  A hardened Laurence knowing what was at stake, spoke back with just his gaze.

  “You must.”

  The other Council members subtly glanced at one another, understanding what was going on, while Anubis and Bastet stood oblivious to what was taking place.

  “Laurence Danjuma, our conversation behind the reason for your actions are deemed by my judgment to be inefficient, and you must be judged and sentenced for your actions.”

  Although they kept their composure, Laurence could feel the sinking of his cousins’ hearts, especially Bastet, who grew a sisterly attachment to him over the decades.

  “My only request from this Council is that we delay sentencing on the Eye of Ra for now,” Ma’at humbly requested. “The one accord we acquired from our discussion is that someone has been plotting and scheming from the shadows, and it is imperative we uncover who that is. The Eye of Ra will remain reinstated until then.”

  “Agreed,” Isis nodded.

  “Agreed,” Atum added.

  “Agreed,” Khnum grumbled in agreement.

  “Agreed,” Nephthys said, finalizing the consensus.

  “Laurence Danjuma, you Anubis and Bastet are free to return to active duty, awaiting judgment at the predetermined time,” Isis announced. “Carry out your onuses until then.”

  “Yes, my elders!” All three Eyes said in unison.

  Laurence, Anubis, and Bastet fell to their knees, smacking their forearms against their chest, bowing respectfully to the Council. As they rose once again before departing the Council Chamber room, the Eye of Ra stayed with his elder telling her everything would be alright.

  Ma’at’s sad gaze said something differently.

  “No …it will not.”

  The silence between Laurence, Anubis, and Bastet stayed with the trio as they exited the Chamber room, through the hall, and finally out of the building where the sun of Anu shined down on them.

  At that moment, Anubis spun Laurence around, grabbing him by the front of his armor, and slammed him against one of the capital's support columns.

  Bastet stood shocked at what just happened, only because Anubis beat her to the punch.

  “What did you do?” Anubis howled in his cousin’s face. “What are you keeping from us?”

  “Know me, cousin,” Laurence said calmly. “When have I ever done anything that did not have purpose. That was not for the greater good?”

  “I don’t question your heart, cousin!” Anubis shot back. “I question your actions!”

  “Actions that at this time, can never be known to you, either of you.”

  His eyes met with a frustrated Bastet, who looked like she wanted to step in and beat the truth out of him.

  “How do you expect us to stand with you if you keep secrets from us?” Bastet shot back at him.

  “This I can tell you,” Laurence said with a steely tone. “There will come a time where you cannot stand with me.”

  “Getting a bit dramatic now, aren’t we, cousin?” Bastet inquired with an irritated eye twitch.

  Laurence took in some air and slowly exhaled. He then grasped Anubis' forearm. The Eye of Set reluctantly removed his grip from his chest plate.

  “There are events taking place that will change everything,” Laurence began to warn them. “Including us. But our charge remains the same, no matter the outcome.”

  The Eye of Ra turned to walk away when Anubis grasped his bicep, stopping him.

  “And where are you off to?”

  “To stand by Ms. Dennison when she is acquired by Attea before I return to Earth,” he bluntly answered. “It is as Elder Ma’at stated, someone has been making moves in the shadows. We must flush them out. Earth may hold the clues to who we are looking for, and I intend to find them.”

  Anubis released Laurence, whose face became that of a predator on the hunt as he proceeded to walk away, heading to the Hall of Healing. Anubis and Bastet looked at one another and nodded before following him. They vowed to walk with their blood for as long as possible.

  CHAPTER 10

  Planet Thrace,

  Peace walked silently down the main palace's halls flanked by a male and female member of the Crimson Fang sent to fetch her from Merc’s home.

  Her attire for coming to court was a female Thracian garb similar to a Grecian style single shoulder lavender mini-dress. Six small ropes in the back of the dress around the waist were of the same color with metal weights similar to the color of gold poked out of ringlets. They were tied together, cinching in the abdomen as one would do a corset. She wore open-toe sandals with straps tied around her shins with black leather's texture on her feet.

  On her right arm, Peace was allowed to wear a single black forearm bracer that also had the texture of leather, making her feel like a gladiatrix.

  She sported her blonde dreads out, hanging down her shoulders and back.

  Peace wore her ice-cold assassin persona while her stomach churned with fear and nervousness.

  The fear and nervousness came from noticing that there was no soul around when she exited the carriage transport and was escorted into the palace.

  Her eyes searched for a guard at their post or a servant making the rounds. No one was in sight, confirming her stomach’s concern that she was walking into a dire situation.

  Her eyes moved about her skull, combing for a possible opening to make her escape but could find none.

  Judging by her escorts, they were on a more elite level than the other soldiers assigned to her. If they were on par with Merc or Attea, which she doubted, she would be dead before she threw her second punch.

  If they were on her level, it would be a useless brawl expending unnecessary energy until reinforcements arrived, either subduing or possibly killing her.

  She had to wait until the opportune time presented itself for her to escape.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Her mind briefly wandered to memories of the past few weeks spent at Merc’s palace to settle her nerves.

  Aside from being his paid assassin, she shared his bed and other hospitalities.

  The intimate time between them was primal and addictive as they fought to overpower the other with sexual euphoria.

  From her count, the score was forty to forty-one in her favor, which was openly disputed by the two.

  She always had a sinister smirk on her face when Embaro, Merc’s Manor Lord, gave her a glare of disgust every time he entered the room. He despised her for defiling his prince the night before.

  She remembered the time afterward when they laid around talking. She spoke mostly about her life before and after she became an EVO.

  Merc surprisingly listened to her with a tentative ear, making his opinion known when he felt like it.

  He informed Peace by Thracian law, her father would have been put to death. Violation of a youngling and inbred contamination of one’s bloodline was a capital offense on Thrace.

  Merc also pointed out to her where she went wrong with her attempted takeover of Earth.

  He answered light inquiries about Thrace and his life growing up as a prince. When she attempted to delve deeper, he gave her the same answer with a calm smile.

  “Your bedding skills will have to become much sharper if you wish to know my secrets, little one.”


  She did not show it, but she enjoyed hearing him call her “little one.”

  She also knew Merc was tougher to crack than Rosen.

  A smile accidentally slipped on her face as she remembered one morning getting up and proceeding to put her clothes on.

  “What are you doing?” He calmly asked.

  “Getting up …need to stretch my legs.”

  “I am referring to your clothing.” Merc gestured.

  “What? You prefer me to stay au naturel?”

  She struck a sensual nude pose as he sat up cross-legged on the bed.

  “When they are together, males and females dress one another,” Merc gestured her over to him. “It is a sign of respect.”

  With a scoff, she strolled over to him handing over her garments. He began wrapping her up in a sheer blue and gold flower pattern cloth the way the male Thracian did for her on his ship, making her underwear.

  Her heart sped up as Merc’s hands touched her thighs and in between her legs. As she looked down at him, she lightly ran her fingers, caressing his silk soft blue dreads.

  Finished with her underwear, Merc stood up, taking the matching sheer sky-blue laced camisole summer dress in his hand. She raised her arms, allowing him to put it on her, then turned around to lace up the strings in the back to properly fit her.

  She pretended to move her dreads from her face when she was wiping mist from her eyes.

  At that moment, she wished she had been born on Thrace and not Earth, and how different her life would have been.

  “All done,” He sighed, releasing her.

  Peace turned to Merc, looking up at him for the first time without her hardened shell.

  “So, I get to do you next?”

  He responded with the same calm smile he wore when he called her “little one.”

  “If you’d like.”

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Her senses returned to her nearing the massive throne room doors, which opened several feet before approaching them.

  The sick feeling in her stomach returned with a vengeance. The majority of the room was empty; there was no one in sight save for Merc standing several steps down from the throne. Furia was seated with her legs crossed in her respective seat while her hands and forearms rested on her chair's arms. She softly tapped her fingernails on her right hands against the stone armrest while her narrowed eyes locked on Peace, burning a hole through her.

  The second eyes on her were Nelron’s. He sat on his throne, casually, hunched over with his hands clasped together, wearing a dull smile. Unlike his wife, who appeared to want to tear her apart, he was less intimidating despite the enormous power coursing through him, dwarfing everyone within the room. For some reason, she both felt it along with its intensity the closer she approached.

  “So, this is what being in a friggin anime feels like,” she thought to herself.

  It was one of the effects of her abilities. The first time she felt it was when Dennison showed up at the Amazon rain forest months after her first resurrection and when Freedom unleashed her full power in Mexico, turning the tide to defeat her.

  It only worked with beings either unleashing or possessing massive levels of energy higher than her own.

  Nelron’s power output caused the hairs on her skin to stand painfully on end, the feeling as if her blood were on fire, while her muscles violently cramped up.

  What bothered her above everything else was the dismissive look Prince Merc finally gave her as she approached. She had seen that look concerning herself many times before.

  It told her that she was no one in his eyes, and once again by herself.

  As they stopped two feet from the first steps of the throne, the two Crimson Fang warriors fell to one knee while smacking their left breast with their heads bowed in servitude.

  “Thank you, Nero, and Kuji, you may return to your unit.” Nelron commanded, “We can take it from here.”

  “Yes, High Region!”

  Peace hid the throat swallow she made as her two escorts rose to their feet and departed, leaving her with the royal family.

  With her hardened shell back on, Peace turned to Merc.

  “Kind of early to introduce me to the parents. Don’t you think?”

  “Remain silent until spoken to,” Merc sternly ordered her.

  “Hold thy tongue, boy,” Nelron admonished his son. “You give no orders in this room.”

  A visibly embarrassed Merc lowered his head.

  “Yes, father.”

  His rebuttal of Merc did not make anything less easy as she did not know how to read the room. She was not brought to them in shackles and chains, so she was not a prisoner. However, something was wrong with Merc’s demeanor, and she had a clear idea of what it was.

  Somehow, they had gotten wind of his side project to acquire Earth and were not too pleased, most likely with the tactics he used to do it.

  So, she decided to play her only card. Save her own skin.

  “If I may speak your highness,” Peace began using a respectful docile tone. “I was contracted by your son to do some jobs which he and his sister devised. All I did was carry them out with the promise of proper compensation and my …”

  Peace was silenced by Nelron, who simply placed his finger to his lips for the universal request to stop talking.

  Furia had stopped her tapping but kept her body part ripping visage on Peace, which became more uncomfortable by the second.

  The High Region finally rose from his throne and proceeded to stroll down the steps toward her.

  Her legs began to buckle as he neared by both the sheer intimidation he exuded and the output of his unbridled power pounding her senses into oblivion.

  Peace used her only defense, standing at attention the way she was taught while training as a D.E.A.D.

  As he stepped off the final step and neared her, Peace realized he was only two inches taller than her.

  Nelron stood in Peace’s personal space, looking into her eyes with disturbed fondness.

  “The next tier of human evolution,” He grunted. “Not a huge improvement, but I suppose your species had to start somewhere.”

  Peace clamped down on her tongue so as not to have it pulled out by the root from a smart retort.

  It was maddening that she was incapable of reading the High Region based on reactions from his body or facial features.

  “Where is the attire you found her in?” Nelron inquired to his son.

  “Discarded, father,” Merc answered.

  “Can it be replicated?”

  “Yes, father.”

  “Do so, make its appearance as authentic as how you found her in it. You are then to dress and return her to the sink vortex whence you found her.”

  “Yes, father.”

  Amid the conversation, a wide-eyed Peace savagely shook her head to process what her ears picked up.

  “Excuse you, put who back where now?”

  Nelron continued to speak to his son, ignoring her series of questions.

  “Do not use a ship; a jump portal will suffice for transport.”

  “Yes, father.”

  Peace’s eyes blazed her rage that could no longer be quelled. She did not know what pissed her off more, hearing with her ears that she was being sent back to a blackhole or that she was being ignored.

  Being who she was, snapping was only a matter of time.

  “This is bullshit…this is fucking bullshit! We had a deal! Your son and I had a fucking deal! Now I carried out my end of this bargain, and I expect …”

  The rest of her words were choked out of her.

  However, it was not done by the High Region or Merc.

  It was chilling that she never even saw the Queen Mother leave her throne or descend the stairs.

  How she effortlessly wrapped her hand around her throat, hoisted her into the air, and held her there.

  Her hand felt like a mecha
nized vice grip applying pressure if Peace was still a regular human. She attempted to fly off to break free, but the Queen Mother simply increased her clutch, employing more force and digging her sharp nails into her throat, which Peace felt as she gasped.

  All Peace could do was to grasp her forearm to alleviate some of the pain.

  Furia’s deep red glowing cauldron eyes blazed her displeasure as she made her thoughts known.

  “You do not echo under my roof, human.”

  Nelron took his time sauntering back to stand by his wife’s side, looking up at Peace.

  “Have a care, my love; we need her in whole for this venture to be fruitful.”

  He finally addressed Peace.

  “Apologies, my dear, my son neglected to inform you that I have the will and authority to negate or alter any and all orders or dealings when it comes to him and the Empire of Thrace which you stand in. His ship that plucked you from that sinkhole belongs to me; the home in which you resided in, ate and bedded my son belongs to me, which means you belong to me.

  I hold no ill-will towards you, child. If I were a lowly commoner from a backwater planet with meager skills such as yourself, given the opportunity presented to you by my son, I would have done the same to survive.

  But as the High Region of the Thracian Empire, I must protect my people. And to do so, I must repair the damage my son has inflicted through his impulsiveness and greed, which is sadly unfortunate for you.”

  Nelron moved closer to Peace as Furia lowered her inches to the floor.

  “You see, the human you and my son framed will go on trial before the Dominion Council. Her defense’s counter for her innocent will be the claim that another is responsible for the assassinations. The Council will then send someone to fetch you from the sinkhole. If you perish before then, your body will be proof that the other human was solely responsible for the attacks.

  However, if you still cling to mortal coil when retrieved, you will stand and testify that you were within the sinkhole during the attacks. Unless the other human and her defense can find another angle, she will be found guilty. You will be set free as human laws and conflicts do not fall within the Dominion Council's jurisdiction.

  And the Empire of Thrace will remain blameless during this entire affair.