Ahkmenrah: The Fourth King of the Fourth Kings

Chapter 23: Dark Horse

It seemed as if the muscle on his palm, right under his thumb, was tearing away as he signed his name on a few official papers. A 'few' was probably an understatement. Now if it was said that there were stacks of papers that have been read and signed and stacks that haven't gone through this process, that would be a lot more accurate.

Ahkmenrah threw his quill on the floor in frustration. Being king was boring! There was no excitement. It was hard. And for the love of the Gods he didn't even want be Pharaoh. He didn't even care a whim for damn politics! Damn you Isis! He thought to himself.

He swiped the ink holder from the desk. There was a clatter, then the sickening sound of ceramic shattering. The ink spilt all over the white marble to make a rather pretty contrast between the black puddle and the white floor.

"Immature" muttered Sabra as she helped him clear up the mess. That was probably the thousandth time this week that she had uttered that word. The memory of the nosebleed was still fresh in his mind. He smiled at it. It was the only action he had all week.

Another surge of recklessness coursed through him. Pharaoh or not he wasn't going to stop it.

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Sabaf stared at his sister. He had heard about many things about Kahmunrah. Most of them were great things, but there were a few things that set him on edge. When Ismara told him that she was getting married to him, Sabaf could barely contain his disapproval.

"You can't be serious?!" he growled.

"I am serious. It's..." she stopped and bit her lip. It's to protects you. She had almost said that, but she refrained from doing so.

"It's what Isma?"

"I love him" she whispered. It was true though.

"Isma he's..."

"What is he?" she asked. "You don't know anything about him."

"Maybe I don't. But if he does anything to you..."

"He won't. Trust me." she had seen him with Ahkmenrah. Kahmunrah wasn't as dangerous as people sought him out to be. And besides there love was strong and deep.

"Will this be kept a secret?" asked Sabaf.

"Yes"

Silence ensued. A blanket of tension fell over them. Ismara walked out of the room in a cloud of fury. Sometimes she wished that Sabaf knew what she was going through. But that would make him feel guilty. She didn't want him to feel that way.

Sabaf sighed. Whatever Ismara was getting herself into he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

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Kahmunrah waited on the steps at the temple of Hathor. Hathor was the goddess of love and fertility, any couple married at her temple was said to have a good married life. As he waited he thought about what Khufu had told him.

Ahkmenrah? He couldn't believe it, but everything added up. The vow he silently made yesterday was actually rather stupid. But the throne meant everything to him. He was tearing apart inside. This was torturous. Horribly torturous. He would rather have had his flesh torn apart bit by bit than have this problem eating away at him.

And the Tablet? Father never told him it was named after Ahkmenrah. It was true that this tablet was made after Ahkmenrah was born. But he though his father would be better than this. He thought his father was a man enough to not pick favourites.

He didn't know why but thinking about the Tablet had filled him with some sort of...sensation. A twinge of power had coursed through his veins. He felt it when the crown of Upper and Lower Egypt had been placed on Ahkmenrah's head. He knew Ahkmenrah had felt too, he could tell from his expression. What was it? He also noticed he had gotten stronger and swifter in the last few days, he had also been having strange dreams. A lot of them it was as if he was hanging above Egypt as a ghost. Then he would enter a home, any home. He would hear the shallow breathing of sick children, the prayers of the parents. On the streets, the dying breaths of beggars, harsh and hollow as it left the mouth and escaped into the night.