Curse of the Jackalmen

tolerating Ptolis

"Firstly, you must walk five strides behind Syn and I. You may not make eye contact with us unless asked to. You are not to speak unless spoken to. Understand, Slave?" Ptolis explains his rules to me, spitting the last word into a verbal lash. I glance at Syn who reluctantly nods. I force myself to bite my tongue and avert my eyes, nodding obediently.

"Yes, Sir." I reply quietly, my distaste dripping from my words. I Hate Ptolis. I hate his arrogant spoiled manner, the way he sees himself above everything, his disdain for other people and cultures. He infuriates me beyond measure.

"Good." He mutters.

Ptolis is accompanying Syn and I to market today for two reasons. One, their father is returning from Rome tomorrow at earliest, and Kyripatra wants us out of the house so she can prepare it; two, he and his mother are afraid of the beasts attacking him.

The moment we leave the house, my hands find the handles of my blades. My eyes shift constantly over the cityscape, the ever present fear of another attack dominating my mind.

I trod along obediently behind them, keeping with the erratic pace of their amiable stroll.

I try my hardest to keep envy out of my mind as I watch Syn's laughing figure. He and Ptolis do not agree on everything, but they do occasionally enjoy each other's company. I am merely the protective third wheel.

Almost as if the weather and desert has joined the scheme to ruin my mood. The wind is ceaselessly blowing rough grit at me. A scowl soon sets on my face. I wish I was anywhere but Egypt. I feel ill at ease here, the dust and mirages obscure vision, and strange statues, traditions and religious beliefs trouble me. I miss Greece, even Rome was better than here.

I stand awkwardly behind as they browse stands, remark on the attractiveness of passing girls. I try to occupy my mind by scanning the perimeter, and trying to look down alleyways, but soon am unsuccessful.

Soon after looking at most of the wares, they find the bustling marketplace too oppressive in the baking heat. We make our way to small section of riverbank surrounded by reeds. This area is a renowned swimming area; for reasons unexplained, crocodiles rarely come.

I settle myself on a rock near the bank with my feet resting in the cooling current. They pull off their outer layers and throw themselves into the water. Most girl would feel flustered, awkward, and self conscious around nearly unclothed boys, especially ones they personally are close too. Me, I'm uncaring.

Syn swims out to the middle of the flow. Treading water, he waves back to the shore. Ptolis wades in a few feet, his pale, almost pallid skin peppered with goosebumps. His eyes scour the water for fish, and, most.likely, rocks. His slow approach quickly bores me and I start swirling a stick in the water. Nothing happensfor such a long time, my mind starts wandering.

If I was not here, in Egypt, who would I be? At my age, I might be engaged, or married. I could also be passing the time weaving, like my.mother used to. Her tunics were renowned for their softness and intricate.patterns. My gaze turns downward to my homely tunic. It's rough brown fabric is worn and patched. It is nothing like what I grew up in.

Suddenly, my thoughts are disrupted by a splash of water across the face and Ptolis's annoying voice.

"Come in the water!"

"No." I refuse firmly. Much to my displeasure, Syn joins the conversation.

"Oh, C'mon Hem. You must be baking over there!" He calls from the water.

"No! I really don't want to! Look at all the fish!" I say, gesturing to the finger length fish that are watching the boys.

"Are you afraid of fish?" Ptolis accuses loudly.

"No!" I insist frantically.

"Really Hem? Fish? You've killed monsters, trained for combat for years and you're afraid of fish?" Syn starts wading back to shore, and incredulous look upon his face.

"I..............um.... I never said I was afraid of them!" I struggle to reply.

The discussion ends with the arrival of a group of Ptolis's friends. Some of them are friendly to Syn, but all ignore me. Ptolis leaves the water and the move higher up the bank. Muffled voices are all I can discern and soon my mind resumed wandering.

This time, my discordant thoughts are broken by many rough hands pushing and throwing me into the water. My eyes sting with water, and I choke for air. I push myself up, my elbow starts stinging, it must have struck a rocks. The only noise is the patter on the myriad droplets streaming off my soaked tunic, and the shrill laughter of Ptolis.

"Hemi...." Syn starts, trudging towards me.

I turn glaring, and storm out of the water, clearing a path between the boys with a harsh glare. I throw myself miserably onto the ground higher up the bank. Today has officially been one of the worst days ever. There is only one way today could be worse,and I care not to think of it.

My condition slowly turns to damp,and I begin to relax. My guard drops and I merely watch Syn race the other boys across the river. But, unprovokedly, a low, guttural growl comes from the reeds.

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the title is a shitty attempt at a pun. heh.