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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

WWXIV: The Valley of the Kings.


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Khaires quickly slinks back to his own grave. As quickly and quietly as he can he pulls the heavy stone back over himself.

 

It was all well in hand now, the centuries could continue to pass. Not for Khaires. He had no want of amature heroics. All he wanted was his rest.

***

 

"But that is not your fate..."

 

"Pharoh?" Khaires looked upon his surroundings, this was not the tomb. This was not a museum. This was... Paradise.

 

"Khaires, my steward. I have found you fit to serve me from this day forwrd. Now come, keep my glass full and bask in the glories of my court."

 

Kharies smiled. It had finally come, that moment. Above all others he had found his king, and he was thirsty.

 

Eternal life was looking pretty good...

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Pamui is tired. He has served his Pharoh faithfully for more than two thousand years in any capacity that was required of him. It was time for sleep, a TRUE sleep, with no cumbersome visions to disturb his rest. Finally, the last of rebels was gone and he could lay down his burden. Or could he.... :huh:

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He had the look of a fanatic.

That was what first attracted Moses to him.

That and the fact that he'd stare at Moses' face for an hour each day.

The name of the fanatic was unimportant. What was important was that he was from egypt (though he looked like no one from the two kingdoms that Moses had ever seen before) and that he had influence.

The fanatic met with the leader of the establishment where Moses and the others were kept, and had a disagreement.

The fanatic must have won because several weeks later, the fanatic had a similiar arguements with the boss of the leader. Then with the bosses' boss.

Weeks turned into months turned into years.

One day, the fanatic led more of his kind into the display room and they sat there for serveral hours until city guardsmen carried them off.

The guardsmen were quite restrained because no blood was spilled. The fanatic must lead an influential group of people.

Finally, craftsmen came and sealed up Moses again for another trip.

Where and how long Moses was moved he did not know, but when he was unsealed he saw that it was in an exact replica of a tomb.

The workmen left, there was no one around, so Moses went for a walk about.

He noticed instantly that it was not just a replica, but a real tomb, and that more so, it was his old tomb. He was home.

The complex was worst for wear, having been opened and exposed to the air and wind of the outside for a time, but it was still very liveable.

'Heh, heh,' thought Moses.

The only real change was the tombs of the traitors.

Instead of bodies and artifacts, there were containers, floor to ceiling, with runes upon them.

And a scroll.

Expecting a trap, he examined the area and found no danger.

Taking up the scroll he opened it and found it was written in the ancient languages, but with horrible grammer.

It was also of most cheaply made, and would not last even a hundred years in even in these sheltered conditions.

It read:

 

Servents of the Great One.

I am a servent of the past.

I have used influence, guile, and bribery to bring you back from the foreign countries you were stolen to and returned to your resting place.

To ensure that you remain undisturbed, I have arranged the storage of certain nuclear and chemical materials in your tomb.

The geological stability and lack of water table, as well as an overabundance of these dangerous materials, made it easy to convince those in power to do so.

Any who would disturb your rest now would die of a wasting disease within days.

There is no cure and no hope.

All above the ground know this and this is the way things will remain for 5 times the times you were undisturbed before.

Maybe in that time we will know to respect the past, or maybe your location will be forgotton by all.

 

There was a signature at the bottom, some sort of title.

Moses put the scroll back, making look like it was undisturbed.

Now to tell the others.

It had been a long time since he had seen any dancing.

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Rahotep held Nehrathi as her very spirit trembles with the shock and pain of betrayed love... he could do no less and knew well that she would likely have done the same for him were their positions reversed.

 

As the hours turned to days, the days to weeks and time passed slowly back into years Rahotep remained. The betrayal had left it's mark on him as time could not. He was less trusting, more resolute in his duty, but time passes and there were those who needed him to be strong. Particularly Nehrathi...?

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Esaneh's betrayal left deep marks in Nehrathi also. She would never again be so open, so ready to trust others. With the passing of the years, the wound in her stopped hurting, and the presence of friends made her laugh again. As Esaneh's memories fade somewhat, though never to be truly forgotten, she notices small things that her love had made invisible.

 

Nehrathi once again observes the dancers. Her head rests lightly on Rahotep's shoulder, fingers threaded on his. She notices Imhotep looking at them, and she nods with a serene smile, as Rahotep's arms close around her in a protective embrace.

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After Esaneh's crypt had been emptied by the egyptologist, the searches slowed down and had stopped completly. However, Esaneh and Khe's betrayal left marks in many of the remaining mummies, who had lost a friend, a lover, a companion.

 

Maesha and the remaining four dancers resumed their daily rituals in Osiris' name. During the dance, Maesha's sadness shrouded her voice, turning a song about joy into a haunting cry of despair. She still sees Hemahibe's and Nerebe's dancing along them, while knowing that they are no longer around them.

 

Although the threat seems gone, Maesha knows that someday, someone else will look for them all and will bring them away from everything they all cherished. The lead dancer prays for the safety of those who are already away from them...

 

THE END

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