He was floating on fire and water. He knew he wasn't alive. But he hadn't passed on to the next world yet.
Will I ever? His conscience wondered. Kahmunrah opened his eyes, or what he thought to be his eyes and looked up. There were colours. Colours that he had no name for. He had never seen them. He believed no human had.
Suddenly a big black shape loomed over him.
It was the jackal-headed god Anubis. Perhaps it was time he passed on to the Hall of Two Truths. Had he been mummified then?
"Not yet..." said the God, as if he Kahmunrah had spoken aloud. "Your brother begged mercilessly, though there was nobody found."
"Ahk..."
"He will be well." Said Anubis. "I alone will grant him his wish. You will have an afterlife."
The god placed a hand on Kahmunrah's shoulders. Anubis's eyes narrowed as if in touching him he had sensed something curious.
"Strange..." Anubis muttered. "Very strange..."
But before Kahmunrah could ask what was strange he was lifted from the river of fire and water and he was blinded by a great white light.
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Her name was Kiya. She was old withered crone who had lost her two sons in the battle with the Sumerians. She was drawing water from the banks of the Nile when she saw a face floating up at her.
She let out a shriek and dropped the pitcher with all intent of leaving him there.
But a macabre curiosity took over her, so she leaned over and stared at the face. It was smiling, the sunlight caught a gleam of gold at his chest.
She reached into the water and dragged him out.
She knew the gold meant he would be important. She inspected the features. He was pale and there was a gaping wound to his stomach, yet he seemed almost blissfully asleep. She inspected him further, taking his dead clammy hands into her own. He wore a gold ring of the head architect and another to signify that he was the prince of Egypt. But she did not know that.
She looked at the scars on his torso like he had fought in a war very recently.
She had no reason to believe it was anyone but a dead comrade of her dear sons, who had fought and died in the battle with the Sumerians. Though the reader may have guessed by now, this indeed was Kahmunrah.
"Kafele!" She called to her husband. "Kafele!"
"Kiya what is it?"
"I found a body in the water!"
"Gods Kiya!" Her husband, an elderly farmer rushed up to her, staff in hand.
He knelt beside the body of the dead prince and touched his cheek.
"He's so young." He muttered. "He can't have been older than twenty."
"He looks like a soldier and nobleman," Said Kiya. "He may have been a comrade of one of our sons."
"He must be given a proper burial." Said Kafele. "Perhaps with our sons."
"All this gold," muttered Kiya. "It could..."
"Kiya we mustn't disturb the dead." Reminded Kafele. "He seems like an important man, beloved by the King no doubt. We can't anger the gods as such."
"My son." She whispered stroking a lock of Kahmunrah's hair. "I'm sorry."
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After days of countless bargaining, Sabra and Nitocris managed to extricate an agreement between the two fighting factions. The leader of the soldiers called himself Smenkhare, and he was more than willing to put an end to this little war.
So divisions were made, prisoners were released and the armies put down their weapons and picked up their chisels. It was time to rebuild the broken remains of Heq-At.
During the rebuilding of the city, Sabaf and Nitocris celebrated their wedding. Though it had been a quiet somber affair in the midst of broken shattered stone, it was the spark of happiness that gave the inhabitants life.
Soon Sabra found herself on a barge leaving the Heq-At, the journey to the royal palace took two days. Before long she found her way to the Palace. She had been waiting for this moment, to see them all again. The royal family had in a strange way had become her family. Thoughts of Ahkmenrah filled her with a sort of giddiness she never knew she was capable of. It brought a smile to her lips.
But she didn't see him, only a somber Montu and a silent Shepseheret who held a newborn in her arms. They seemed happy enough to see her and greeted her with embraces, though there was a stillness in the air and a sadness in their smiles.
"The little prince I gather," She asked gesturing to the baby.
"This is Ramses." Said Shepseheret. "I fear his birth is surrounded by much tragedy."
"Ismara?"
"I'm afraid yes...her funeral has been held."
Sabra remembered the brave young woman who had freed the women of Egypt from the depraved beds of the Sumerians. The woman who had despite being heavily pregnant spied on the Sumerians to give them information. The woman who had shot an arrow to save her husband. Yet she had never been a warrior. In her own way, Sabra had grown to love Ismara.
Ramses regarded her languidly. Shepseheret gave her a sad smile and offered her the child. Sabra took Ramses in her arms. She'd forgotten the feeling of a baby in her arms. It had been so long. She kissed his forehead before handing him back to Shepseheret.
"Where is Ahk?"
Shepseheret was silent. Montu looked at her gravely.
"He has locked himself up in his room and is drinking himself senseless." He said. "He's gone mad. You can hear shrieks coming from his rooms, sometimes laughter, often he sobs. We do not know. But Kahmunrah has not been seen for days."
"I must see him..."
"I wouldn't advise it..." suggested Montu.
"As commander-in-chief and guardian of Egypt, I must keep my country safe. That includes the life of my King."
My King. How those words sent chills down her spine.
"Very well, but you won't be able to open it. He has the only key."
"If he won't answer." Said Sabra. "I have my sword."
She made her way up the stairs to the room she had once guarded.
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When the light faded Kahmunrah saw he was walking down a gilded hallway with Anubis holding his arms.
"This is the Hall of Two Truths." Explained Anubis.
Kahmunrah looked around. The hall was of the like he had never seen before. On one side you had black Onyx columns lined with pure gold and on the other side pure gold columns lined with Onyx.
"You brought me here against the will of the gods." Said Kahmunrah. "My body was not supposed to have been found."
"It was found." Explained Anubis. "By a woman named Kiya who lost her sons in the battle against Sargon. She buried you with her sons."
"You orchestrated it all." Said Kahmunrah.
The jackal-headed god laughed.
"Let us keep that between you and me. Your brother begged so pitifully." Anubis grinned and for a moment he was a handsome man with rich mahogany colored skin with the most beautiful smile Kahmunrah had ever seen. If thoughts of Ismara and his child didn't fill him he was sure he would have bedded this god then and there. "You should have seen the look on Isis's face when he called her a whore in front of the whole court of gods."
"He did that?!" Exclaimed Kahmunrah. He groaned internally. Ahkmenrah could be such an idiot.
"He is quite forgiven. He did it in the midst of grief."
Kahmunrah bowed his head and they both walked through the halls in silence until they reached a line of people queuing before a doorway.
"I must leave you here. Someone else has entered." Said Anubis. "Join the line. Though I believe the next dead one will be of much more interesting to you."
"Ahk?"
"Not yet..." said Anubis. "You'll see."
Kahmunrah stood behind a little boy, who couldn't have been more than five. He grinned up at him.
"Are you the Prince?"
"Yes...yes, I am the prince."
"I remember you, you fought with Sabra at Heq-At while she was training us."
"And I lost." Kahmunrah reminded him.
"Yes, but I think you were brave, standing up to her."
Kahmunrah felt a warmth seep into his chest and he smiled down at the boy.
"She was quite fearsome." He agreed. "What brings you here?"
"There was a big war and the enemies won." Said the boy. "They went on a rampage on our village, I had been playing with my friends and one of the men grabbed me and pulled my kilt down and put his..."
"That's enough Neferu!" Scolded the woman before him. "Sorry your Majesty, my son talks too much."
Kahmunrah shook his head, there were tears in his eyes. Because all he could see was Ramses in the child's eyes.
"No will hurt you ever again." Said Kahmunrah. "You will be well looked after here."
The mother smiled at Kahmunrah, there seemed to be many questions she wanted to ask him but before she could do so he heard a voice call his name.
"Kahmun."
Kahmunrah turned swiftly and saw the dear image of his wife.
"Ismara..."
He rushed up to her and held her tightly in his embrace and pressed his lips against hers. Savoring the taste of her.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered over and over again. "I'm so so sorry."
"No Kahmun, forgive me I..." she started. "I didn't have the strength, I left him an orphan."
"Do not blame yourself." He told her. "There are things we cannot control. If anything it was my fault alone."
She touched his face and kissed him one more time.
"Yuck!" Cried little Neferu and Kahmunrah pulled away from her with a grin.
"Ismara meet my friend, Neferu." Said Kahmunrah. "Neferu this is my wife Ismara."
"Are you a goddess?" Asked Neferu seemingly enraptured.
"No..." answered a flustered Ismara.
"No," agreed Kahmunrah. "She is much better."
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Sabra banged the door.
"In the name of God open up!" She roared.
"It's no use." Said a servant girl. "We've tried many times."
Sabra drew her sword. They say if you couldn't untie a knot if was often simpler just to cut it. She wedged it in between the door and drove it through the wood unhinging the lock and kicked open the door with her foot.
The first thing that hit her was the stench. She looked around to see piles of vomit lying as carelessly as someone strews clothes across the floor.
She found him lying on the floor his face in his own vomit a bottle of wine spilled, staining his kilt. He was shaking uncontrollably. He skin was almost blue, he looked up at her. His eyes were yellow and bloodshot.
He breaths came out in wheezes.
"Go away!" He drawled hoarsely. "Let me die!"
Sabra's eyes caught the empty wineskins and bottles. He had poisoned himself or at least tried to. She moved towards him and tried to pick him up, but merely turned and buried his face in her breasts.
"He's gone..." he whimpered.
"Who's gone?" Asked Sabra. Though she had a good guess.
"Kahmunrah." Moaned Ahkmenrah. "He's dead!"
She knew Kahmunrah had gone missing. But dead? She had never thought that possible. And little Ramses an orphan?
"It's my fault!" Cried Ahkmenrah. "I could have saved him!"
She held her in her arms and soothed him like one would soothe a baby, stroking his thick mass of curls in a calming rhythmic manner. He stopped shaking enough for her to help him stand so she could lead him to the wash basin, she motioned to the servant girl who stood aghast at the doorway.
"Fetch Shepseheret, and a few more servants to clean up this mess, send for blankets, as many of them as you can. Make sure you bring two pitchers of water, one scented one for drinking."
"Is there anything else?"
"That will be all."
She turned her attention to Ahkmenrah and proceeded to remove his vomit-stained kilt. He didn't seem to notice the change but continued whispering.
"Don't leave me Kahmun..." then he laughed.
"What's the matter Kahmun? Scared?" he sadi again.
He paused as if someone replied.
"You're scared of Father?" He asked no one in particular.
He paused then he laughed.
"Come one, Kahmun, just a small race..."
It pained her to see him like this but she proceeded to wash him down first with the pitcher already in the room. Second when the servant girl came in with scented water. And when she washed him again and noticed the scars fresh to his chest and torso. It seemed as if he had tried to drive a knife within himself in his inebriated form.
His eyes seemed to focus a little now and he beheld her.
"Sabra..." he said. "Is it really you?"
"Yes." She answered.
"When I imagine myself naked with you I often thought it would more romantic."
It's the drink speaking. She told herself. Indeed he voice was still slurred, his eyes still unfocused.
Then he started laughing again. "Oh forgive me, I don't know what I'm saying."
A sob choked at his chest and he began a fresh bout of weeping.
"He's gone Sabra..." he whimpered. "And he's never coming back. He's dead."
He grabbed her hand with a fierceness that should not have been his.
"Stay with me, Sabra! Promise me you won't leave me!"
"I won't." She said. "I swear."
He relaxed his grip and sat back in the basin.
"Thank you..."
"Come on, Ahk." She said as the servants handed her woolen blankets. "It's time you got up."
"Yes, you are right." He yawned. "I'm tired and cold."
"Yes, look here's a blanket you'll be alright."
"He liked honeyed dates." Said Ahkmenrah quietly. "He liked archery. He liked it best it was sunset and the moon was on the rise. His favorite animal was a falcon. He loved his women until Ismara snared him."
He gave a wistful smile.
"He said he'd always be here for me, like the moon will always be here, no matter how the light shines on it." He lowered his head. "But he's not here. He's gone, Sabra. He's gone."
And he had left behind a broken shell that was his brother.
Sabra wrapped him up in the blankets and lifted him up guiding him to the bed.
"I'm thirsty," he said. "I feel so thirsty,"
She raised a pitcher water to his mouth.
"Then drink."
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Yes more updates! And yes more Kahmunrah! I told you he would back, no ressurections though. Poor Ramses!
Let me know what you think!
- Sargun