Heir of Ra (Blood of Ra Book One)

by M. Sasinowski

  15 Nile Basin

  “Where is he?” I close my fingers around the man’s throat and lift him off the ground. Tears of pain and rage streak down my cheeks. My hand is an iron vise, squeezing each breath from the islander. Fear drowns his bulging eyes as he fights for air, a quivering rag doll in my hand. He may know the answer, but I shall never hear it. Life slips away from him as his windpipe collapses beneath my grip, and his stare turns to glass. I thrust him aside like a spent flask of wine, oblivious to the pounding of my heartbeat against my temples. He hits the ground, and the sound of death reflects from the high-domed ceiling of the audience chamber.

  Slowly, I raise my head and take in the crowd that surrounds me. The dread in their faces bears a stark contrast to the splendor of the magnificent murals on the marble walls and gilded columns that fill the hall. I look to my commanders and advisors, to the lords and lordlings who have served me for decades, yet not a single one of them will hold my gaze. Slowly, one person breaks their ranks. Horemheb, the commander of my armies, steps forward and sinks to his knees. His face is etched with pain and shame as he lifts his head toward me.

  “We had no warning, my lord. They—”

  I do not hear his words. I tear the golden helmet from my head and swing it at him. The helmet strikes hard, and he hits the ground, blood streaking from his cheek and lips.

  “They murdered my wife and took my son!” The skin of my face stretches into a snarl as I scream, white spittle flying from my mouth. I lift my arm again to crush the heavy helmet on his skull. Horemheb raises his head, fearless, willing to pay the price for having failed me.

  “Horus!” A voice rings out behind me. “Horus, my lord! My blood!” The voice quivers with old age, yet it is filled with power and authority. I hold the blow and remain motionless.

  “He speaks true!” I hear my grandfather’s voice through the red mist of my rage. “He was powerless to avert this evil. He would have given his life a thousand times over to protect your wife and son, but slaying your finest warrior now will not bring them back to you.”

  I keep my back to him, my chest heaving, and slowly lower my arm. “Do not presume to lecture me, old man,” I growl, my voice filled with poison. “For seventy long cycles I have listened to your every word. For too long, I have followed your teachings.” I pause, the pounding in my ears clouding my vision. “To what end?”

  I turn to him, straining to focus. His ageless eyes mirror the pain in my heart. His lined face speaks of hard life and labor. My breathing slows and my words now come in a whisper, yet each word strikes his ancient heart like a dagger. “The blame lies with you as it does with him. Was it not you who counseled peace between our people? They deserved death for killing our flesh and blood decades ago, yet you spoke of peace. They do not know the meaning of that word!”

  He studies me with a distant stare. When he opens his mouth, his voice is trembling and quiet. “I have failed you, Horus, my grandson. I have failed to protect you and your kindred blood. The night we fled our home, I vowed to keep you and all whom you shall love safe from harm. Yet I failed you.” His voice cracks as he remembers the night that will forever be engrained in our memories. “But my greatest failure is that I did not succeed in freeing you of your anguish—and hatred.” He pauses, taking a deep, pained breath. “For that night I also vowed never to kill again or wage war.”

  The memories awaken once more in my head in agonizing detail. Once again, I am haunted by the bleeding faces of the men as they died, their screams piercing through the night air. I stare into the distance, wrestling the memories from my mind. I am Horus, son of Isis and Osiris. A welcome numbness spreads through my body. I shall know no fear.

  “Return my son to me unharmed,” I command Horemheb, my voice flat, “or do not return.” I drop my golden helmet to the floor. “All of you—out!”

  Dozens rush out, only too eager to obey my command. I face my grandfather and stalk toward him, each step a trial of my inner strength.

  “The night in the harbor. When Mother… when we escaped. I have asked you about that night more times than I can remember, yet each time you have refused an answer. This day, you shall not deny me. You will tell me what you did that night. What cruel fate befell those men?”

  His gaze rests on me for a long time. His breathing comes in shudders as he stands before me silently, his shoulders slumped.

  Finally, he speaks, “A weapon, Horus. Savage and merciless. Unleashed, it slaughters your enemies and dooms those who shall draw near the dead.”

  “Yet you and I passed by them, close enough to touch!”

  “It was a living weapon, my grandson. Devised by our people, it was meant to protect us. The weapon could never harm you, or those with your blood. The others outnumbered us a hundred to one, but they knew of our power, and so the fragile peace was kept between our two peoples. Two cultures living side by side on our island.”

  “Pureans. The Pure Ones.” My lips curve into a grimace as I recall the name by which our enemies called each other.

  “Yes,” he continues, “and our people, the Hybrids, born to accept the gift of an animal sentinel and destined to live their lives as a cross between two species. A long time ago, there was respect between our cultures, but they grew jealous of our knowledge and fearful of our power. We knew there were those among them who wished us ill, but none could have foretold the extent of their hatred. They attacked us when we were most vulnerable.”

  “Why did they come here? Why did they not grant us peace after we fled?”

  For a long time he does not speak. He closes his eyes. When he opens them again I see shame… remorse.

  “That night, I did not merely slay the men in the harbor,” he says, his voice shaking. “I condemned those men to eradicate their kin, as the same curse that ravaged their bodies surged across the island. Eventually, the Pureans prevailed and contained the sickness, but not before it ended the lives of thousands of their people.”

  I stare at him, my mind refuses to grasp the words I am hearing.

  “Horus, I have raised you as my own son since we have arrived in this strange land. Your powers, the gift of the falcon, have crowned you a king—a god—among these people. The Pureans knew they could not capture you here, at the seat of your power, so they took your son.”

  He pauses, his face a mask of pain.

  “They seek to use him as a pawn against you, to provoke you into battle, so they can destroy you, for as long as you live you are a threat to them. You must not let them succeed. Enough blood has been shed. You must vow that you will not wage war.”

  I stare at him, my fingernails leaving bloody imprints in my palms. “This is your sage counsel to me? You, whose daughter was butchered by these savages? This is your guidance? That I vow to abandon my flesh and blood?” I slam my fist against the stone column, cracking its gilded frame. I ignore the searing pain in my hand as I speak through clenched teeth. “In the name of my first ancestor, in the name of Ra, hear this vow, old man. If any harm befalls my son, I shall know no rest until they have learned a hundredfold the anguish they have brought upon me.”

  His shoulders slump. “I lost a daughter, and I killed for it. And for the past seven decades I have lived with the memories of having extinguished countless lives because of a single moment of weakness. A single moment when I was powerless to control my rage. Not a day passes when I am not haunted by the memories of the terrible evil I unleashed. Every day I crave to undo what I have done. Slaying the islanders will not bring your wife back to life and it will not bring your son back to you.”

  His gray eyes lock onto mine. “There is another way to honor her memory. To remember your son. To preserve the legacy of our people. But it shall not be through war and annihilation, but through immortalizing her, your son, and every person you have ever loved—and you will ever love.”

  I stare at him wordlessly, my body rigid.

  “Since the night we left our island,” he chooses his words del
iberately, “I have dedicated my life to immortalizing our culture, our people, inside your mind. I have taught you about our history, tutored you in the arts, the study of the heavens, and the art of healing. I have shared with you nearly everything I know.” He looks at me warily. “But I have also kept secrets from you, my grandson. On this day, I shall reveal my greatest secret to you. On this day, you shall learn why I will be remembered as Thoth, the Scribe, for I have succeeded in not only creating records of words and images, but also records of minds.”

  He moves toward me until he is close enough to touch, his eyes a bright spark of hope against a sea of pain. He reaches inside his robe and pulls out an object. He holds it up to me with trembling hands.

  “This is the key, Horus.” He looks at it reverently, his voice growing stronger. “This is the key to preserving our culture, our legacy. Your memories of our people and of your life shall continue long after we are gone because of this, the monument to my existence. One hundred and thirty long years, devoted to a single purpose.” He takes a deep breath. “To scribe life.”

  I stare at the object, a crystal in the shape of a pyramid, smaller than a man’s fist. I shake my head, unable to comprehend.

  “Our memories, our most cherished thoughts, our lives… scribed into this crystal, stored for all ages, to be witnessed by others as if they had lived them. My perseverance shall be my final gift to you, Horus. This is the legacy I shall bestow upon you.” He stands taller, his back straight, his ancient eyes sparkling. “Immortality.”

  Slowly, I raise my hand to the crystal. The tips of my fingers graze the cool surface. A hot needle sears into my head, scalding my eyes. I scream.

  Alyssa gasped for air. She felt the helmet come off and a pair of hands grasping her face. Gradually the pain in her head began to subside. She slowly opened her eyes, the images of the past blurring with the present. She tried to hold on to her memories, but they were disappearing like sand drawings in the wind.

  Slowly, she focused on her surroundings. I’m in a hotel room. No. The hum of the airplane. Paul. She winced as Paul lifted her from the leather chair and laid her on the bed.

  She put her head back on the pillow and inhaled slowly. Gradually, the sharp pain was turning into a dull headache.

  Paul sat next to her. “You screamed,” he reached for her hand. “What happened?”

  She waved him off. “A pain in my head, but only for an instant. It’s gone now,” she replied. “I’m feeling much better.” She tried to smile.

  “I don’t want you using this thing anymore.”

  “But we’re so close to finding out what’s going on! We can’t stop now.”

  “It’s too dangerous. I won’t just watch while it’s continuing to hurt you.”

  “I’m fine. Remember, Clay even said that there might be some short-term effects. A little headache is a small price to pay for—”

  “We’ll just have to figure out what we need to do without using the equipment again.” He held up his hand. “I won’t argue with you about this—please don’t try to convince me otherwise.”

  Alyssa nodded slowly, too tired to argue. She stared at the ceiling trying to recall the memories. “I could use some water,” she said quietly.

  Paul reached to the head of the bed and pressed the flight attendant call button when Alyssa bolted up, pain and exhaustion forgotten.

  “It was his grandfather! Thoth, the Scribe. He is the one who developed the technology to capture memories!” Her eyes were glowing. “And Horus was a grown man,” she continued breathlessly, her voice trembling. “He must have been seventy, but he seemed half that age. I think he was in Egypt, a king or a pharaoh. My God, Paul, do you know what that means?”

  Paul stared at her, trying to absorb her words. “Alyssa, slow down.”

  Alyssa felt her pulse racing. She recalled the magnificent hall and people surrounding Horus. Her face darkened when she remembered his pain.

  “Something terrible happened. They killed his wife. I think they kidnapped his son. The islanders, the Pureans…” She was surprised at the sound of her voice, quivering, suddenly filled with Horus’s rage.

  “What? What are you talking about? Why would they do that?”

  “His rage was terrifying, Paul. He killed one of their spies with his bare hands. I felt his rage, his agony. He wanted to kill them all, but his grandfather…” She gasped, remembering the pieces. “His grandfather also developed the weapon. We were right, it is a bioweapon. It won’t harm Horus or his people, but it spread, killed thousands of the islanders. Paul… we have to stop it before it happens here.”

  He frowned. “And how are we going to do that?”

  Alyssa studied him silently, teeth biting at her bottom lip. She shrugged and swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in her throat.

  Paul pressed the call button again. “Where is Kaya when you need her?” he asked, impatient. He stood up. “I’ll get you some water.”

  She grabbed his arm. “No, I’ll get it. I need to stretch my legs. Besides, I think splashing some water in my face will help.”

  “Sure?”

  She swung her feet over the bed and stood, smiling reassuringly.

  Paul nodded. He walked over to the chair and sank into the plush leather seat, letting out a long sigh. “Then I’ll try to catch some shut-eye,” he said, bringing up the footrest.

  Alyssa opened the door and stepped into the aisle. The soft hum of the engines was the only reminder that she was in an airplane as she headed down the corridor to the lavatories. I guess Kaya must be catching a quick nap, she thought, glancing into the small kitchen area, her vision adjusting to the soft overhead lights that illuminated the narrow corridor between the two suites.

  Alyssa stopped in mid-stride. Just ahead of her in the luggage closet, Kaya’s face stared back at her, eyes glossy and unseeing, lips blue as if she had just eaten a handful of ripe blueberries.

  Her mind screamed a warning an instant before the hand closed around her throat. The other hand covered her mouth and she was shoved hard into the lavatory, her assailant close behind her in the rough embrace.

  A bolt of panic went through her, pure and undiluted. Renley! she thought but knew instantly that she was wrong.

  The vicious man wasn’t much taller than Alyssa, but his fingers and sinewy arms were unyielding as they covered her mouth and squeezed her throat. He closed his fingers around her neck, and she felt a needle attached to his ring press against her throat. She could hear his coarse and rasping breath behind her head.

  The rough stubble on his cheek scratched her earlobe as he brought his lips to her ear. “One push of this needle and you will die before you can count to five,” he whispered menacingly. His tone suggested that he would not hesitate in following up his threat.

  “No sound. Do you understand?”

  Alyssa nodded, paralyzed with fear and unable to breathe. The man moved his hand from her mouth and roughly twisted her left arm behind her back. Alyssa winced, but remained silent.

  “Back to the room.”

  She felt the needle press against her neck as she stepped out of the lavatory and back through the dark aisle, smelling the breath of Kaya’s killer behind her. She stopped in front of the suite, hesitating.

  “Inside, now!” the man said and twisted her arm harder.

  Alyssa bit her lip to stifle a scream and edged the door open. Paul was dozing in the seat. He stirred lazily, and his eyes drifted open.

  The sleepy expression on his face shifted into disbelief when he saw Alyssa and the man behind her with his hand around her throat. He leaped up.

  “One more step and she dies where she stands,” the man hissed.

  Paul froze when he recognized her attacker. Alyssa turned and gasped.

  “It’s you—”

  “Shut your mouth!” Gavriel spat. “Close the door,” he ordered Alyssa. She complied, and he faced Paul. “You know what I want. Give it to me. I will not ask again.”

&nbs
p; Paul glared at him but nodded his head and walked toward the LIDAR.

  “No, Paul—” Alyssa started, but the sentence turned into a loud scream when Gavriel twisted her arm high behind her back.

  “I told you to shut up, bitch!”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw his lips curl up in a sadistic smile as she felt the waves of pain from her shoulder to her little finger.

  “One more sound and I will break your arm.”

  Paul fumbled with the LIDAR, struggling to extract the crystal from the mount.

  “Get moving!” Gavriel yelled.

  Paul removed the crystal and turned to Gavriel. He stretched out his hand, the crystal in his open palm.

  “Here it is. Just don’t hurt her… please.”

  Alyssa heard Gavriel’s breathing speed up. Instead of relaxing his grip, she felt his hand tighten around her neck.

  “Do you know what it felt like to be blinded for hours? Not knowing if—”

  There was a tap on the door. “Is everything all right in there?” Alyssa recognized Renley’s voice as he cautiously opened the door. “I heard screaming—”

  Gavriel switched his attention from Paul to Renley, and Alyssa felt the pressure relax on her throat for an instant.

  She grabbed his thumb with her right hand and yanked it back toward his elbow until she heard the bone snap. Gavriel’s howl ended in another sickening crunch as Paul hurtled toward them and rammed his fist into Gavriel’s nose in mid-leap. She felt the hold on her left arm loosen. Spinning, she twisted out of his grip and brought her knee up into Gavriel’s groin with full force. His bloody face contorted as he doubled over. At the same instant, Renley lifted a bottle of port from the tray and shattered it on Gavriel’s head in one smooth motion.

  Alyssa watched the killer’s limp body slide to the floor, the pounding of her heart the only sound in her ears. Panting, she looked up at Renley, unable to speak. Paul grasped her, and she sagged into his arms.

  Renley’s lips curled downward as he looked from the man to the neck of the shattered bottle in his hand. “Damn fine vintage,” he muttered and dropped the remainder of the bottle on the tray. He used a white cloth napkin to wipe his hands. He turned to Alyssa. “Are you hurt, Miss Morgan?” he asked, his voice ringing with concern.