Ahkmenrah looked at the letter. Dated and signed three days ago. He could feel his heart beating erratically. It was happening then. The country was soon to fall in civil war. A powerful surge of anger rose up at him as he threw the letter to the floor, a low guttural cry escaping his throat.
The screams of frustration soon came out in tears as he kicked the edge of his bed.
Will misery ever stop following him around?
He heard a gasp behind him. It was the little messenger boy who had delivered the letter.
Great even children are going to fear you now. He scolded himself.
He took out two golden denebs from the pouch at his waist and handed them to the messenger boy who tremulously received them, fear evident in his dark eyes.
"Thankyou for delivering the message." said Ahkmenrah, he gave the sweetest smile he could muster.
"What did it say?" asked the young boy. Then with fearfulness, he added. "You highness."
"We are entering dangerous times." answered Ahkmenrah.
The messenger boy looked up at Ahkmenrah's miserable countenance. They had already gone through a war, how much worse could it get?
"Can you call for Kahmunrah?" Ahkmenrah requested. A sense of guilt swept over him as he absorbed the little boy's fear. "Please?"
The messenger boy nodded and ran out of the room.
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Kahmunrah looked across at his brother.
"We have to go there..." said Ahkmenrah quietly. "We have to go and help them..."
He reigned in the waved of emotions but in front of his brother, he couldn't hold the facade for long.
"Ahk have you seen yourself lately?" asked Kahmunrah calmly. "You can't go into battle again...not in your condition."
"But there could be another war."
"Not all battles are worth fighting."
"Stop throwing stupid meaningless words at my face!" cried Ahkmenrah in anguish. "I'll be deemed a coward for not going!"
Was it him or was there really a glint of madness creeping in his younger brother's eyes. Ahkmenrah can not. Ahkmenrah will not be like their maddened grandfather Kanefer. History will not repeat itself. But even so Kahmunrah felt as if these words were nought but the ashes of a once bright fire that billowed in the wake of a cold reality. They provided him not the warmth of comfort the fire once did.
The flames of love for his brother had gone, Kahmunrah realised. He was fruitlessly kindling at them but there was no spark left.
"You really think it's all about you?" asked Kahmunrah slowly and cynically. "I never thought you were this arrogant. Know this, if we lose you things won't be the same. Egypt will wither..."
"They will have you." said Ahkmenrah simply.
There it was that was all he wanted, all he ever worked for. The kingdom to be his. Just his. Oh but the beastliness of this all! The twisted games of snakes and ladders. He couldn't let his true intentions win out now.
"There is a reason why father chose you. There has to be," said Kahmunrah. "But even so I am older and wiser. You must listen to me. Send your troops. Don't go yourself. You can't throw the whole damned army in at once. Those who get things done are the ones who know not to bask in the glory of every war, they know when to stay out of the din of battle and when to enter it. This knowledge gives you a power. A power that could change the course of history completely."
Merenkahre had taught him that. A long time ago. But he had remembered.
He could see his brother going into a deep reverie contemplating his words.
"Oh and Ahk..." he started. The young king looked up. "If you even think of running off I swear I'll tie you up to your bed and keep you there for the rest of the war."
"I love you too Kahmun," Ahkmenrah replied laughing. As he walked out of the room.
Kahmunrah could still hear his brother's laughter ringing in his ears as he walked out of the room. The war in his heart raged on.
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Blood crusted the inside of her nails. It dripped from the ends of her dark hair as it flowed from her head. Her clothes were still warm from the vile red fluids. She couldn't tell which was hers and which was the enemy's.
It was the third time in the past two weeks that Seker's men had scaled the wall. And God they were ruthless.
Sabra sheathed her sword. It was the third time they had killed or captured the men. The battles were getting bloodier and bloodier. They smell of the rotting dead filled the air. The blood flowed through the streets. The dungeons and prisons were almost full. But it seemed Seker had more and more men under his command.
She hated this killing all of them. She hated how her body was slick with blood. She hadn't been in so much bloodshed since...no she couldn't think of it now.
She and her men made entered the hall which served as a place for healing. Nitocris rushed forward and when she saw Sabra she gave a mortifies look.
"Gods you look like a nightmare!"
Sabra flashed her a smile. Before sitting on the mat as water was brought to her. She drank gratefully.
Nitocris came to her with a larger bowl of water and a piece of cloth.
"You'll need this. To wash off all the blood. So I can look at your wounds properly"
"Pity," replied Sabra. "I was rather fond of the look."
Nitocris gave her a warm smile before she walked over to Sabaf. After that she will inquire of the health of everyone else. This was one of the reason's she had become so well loved. She need not to have fought alongside them in order to earn their respect. By merely lifting the spirits of the men. By being their sister, mother or daughter she had played a vital role in the siege. Sabra dipped the cloth in water and scrubbed away at the blood.
As she was doing so she watched Sabaf and Nitocris. She watched the way she would lean towards him. She watched as he smiled at her bravely. She watched as they almost touched and how they pulled away flustered.
It was in this dark time that Sabra found hope. Their love was a beacon of light to her, a symbol of a promise for a bright future.
By the time her body was clean the bowl was filled with more blood than water.
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Hey I am super sorry! I got such a bad mark for extension English that I lost hope in my writing abilities. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Remember to tell me your thoughts.
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Ahkmenrah: The Fourth King of the Fourth Kings
FanfictionHe was prepared to say his last prayer. But the blow never came. Instead his saw the Nubian fall to the ground. The desert sands absorbing the man's precious supply of blood that flowed from his headless body. The young Pharaoh felt himself being li...