Wings of Time

Unexpected Birthday Gift

The middle and foremost of the magicians stepped forward, sweeping his rich robes around him as he spoke. The robes themselves fascinated Atem as they were dyed in patches of every color imaginable and the affect was quite mesmerizing.

"People of the Great Land of Egypt! We come before you today to bring great and mysterious powers before your eyes. You will be befuddled, amazed, and perhaps even...frightened. But never fear! It is only for your entertainment! Please, relax, my friends! And enjoy."

A keening horn sung out from the corner, sending chills up the Pharaoh's spine. All three magicians stepped about in a circle, coats swishing in swirls of dizzying color. One brought out a sword, while the other a length of silk. They pranced towards one another, watched over by the third who began wailing out a strange, almost humorous chant. The Pharaoh smiled down at his friend.

"Let's not hope you get us cursed by your choice in entertainment."

Set snorted. "Please, I know magic when I see it." Then, quickly realizing the impropriety of his tone, tacked on a "your greatness," to the end.

Atem didn't answer, brought back to the magicians as the silk the one man was holding burst into flame, making his dark skin shine like bronze in its light. He swung it about his body, but the licking flames appeared harmless. As one, the two magicians swung their weapons around, one the great scimitar and the other the decaying snake of burning silk, and brought them clashing together. There came a great clang and suddenly the silk was hard as iron. The fire died and a long wooden pole lined with glimmering glass was revealed. The third magician brought more silk from his sleeves as the other two danced with each other, clashing glass staff upon gleaming, silver scimitar. Each hit scattered glass about the floor, but even as Atem watched the glass melted and vanished into the stone. He nodded, leaning back into his throne.

"Nice. I wonder how they managed that."

"What, your highness?"

"Ice. That man's staff is made of ice. Forget about how he pulled an ice staff from a flaming scarf, how did he get ice in the first place?"

Set frowned at the Pharaoh, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

"My Pharaoh, these men are doing mere illusionary play, you can't depend on your eyes."

Atem ignored him, his attention once more to the magicians.

As the two men came for an almighty clash and the keening desert horn lifted up to a climatic wail, an immense flash, like lightning, suddenly filled the room, momentarily blinding the watchers. The young king brought an arm to his face.

What in the name of...

Just as soon as it had come the flash vanished. In the middle of the floor with her pale legs sprawled about her and surrounded by chips of ice, a maiden sat, wearing a strange, blue girdled kilt and a bright yellow top. Straps of a rucksack (the likes of he had never seen), wrapped over her shoulders and under her arms. From Atem's distance her most noticeable feature was her peculiar, wavy white hair framing her tiny torso and pale face. He moved to clap with the rest of the nobles.

Set, however, jumped to his feet. The Pharaoh froze.

The magicians looked alarmed at the presence of the girl. She looked around hesitantly as they rapidly babbled to each other in their own language. Slowly, her eyes moved up and met the Pharaoh's gaze, wide and devoid of shame.

Atem ground his teeth. How dare she disrespect him with such forwardness?

"Set, what is the meaning of this?"