The Other Side - Part 5
Unfinished lesson plan
Dr. Scott Weaver, May 1999
Tape 119 – dictated to Cecelia Adams for word processing
“Folklore vs Fact.
Folklore or legends have always fascinated me.
[note to Cece – *sighs* I’m having trouble coming up with a plausible paragraph to follow my opening statement. Use some of my educational experience as filler or whatever you think is best. This damn chemo is draining me.]
In my recent studies regarding the study of the mask of Iret-iruw, I find it fascinating that none of the archeologists at the University of Memphis elaborate on the spells that were carved onto the mask’s surface. The spells were derived from the Book of the Dead and the belief is that they were used as a means to help the departed navigate their way to the land of the dead or the land of Osiris.
While hesitant to criticize my fellow colleagues’ main objective of their research, determining the cause of Iret-iruw’s death, I’m still extremely curious as to why they chose fact over folklore.
Fact – Iret-iruw’s body provided an excellent subject to study the importance of mummification in Egyptian funeral rites.
Folklore – the spells taken from the Book of the Dead that ‘helped’ the deceased’s journey to the afterworld, and I believe they could offer us a rare opportunity for study.
Fact – the age of Iret-iruw at the time of his death was around thirty years old and it was concluded that a severe ear infection was the cause.
Folklore – the spells taken from the Book of the Dead exemplify the common beliefs of the Egyptian people.
[note to Cece – remind me to contact Dr. Barnes regarding my travels abroad. Don’t want to get the good cancer doctor angry with me for trying to live my life…sorry, digressed.]
Note to self – use slide show as examples for class. Get extension cord for projector.
[note to Cece – use my notes from yesterday regarding the roundtable discussion held last Tuesday as filler. There should be a suitable conclusion for this rambling dictation in there somewhere…]
How much of the Egyptian life was dedicated to upholding the tidbits of folklore we are finding so easily in our recent archeological studies?
Has our community decided to abandon the mythical aspect of this ancient race of people and focus on C.A.T scans to determine mummification processes and cause of death?
Folklore and fact go hand in hand, and I believe that one cannot exist without the other. If you approach the study of an ancient civilization with a narrow perspective, then it is my belief that you will miss all the cultural richness of those people.
[[tape stops.]]
[[tape starts]]
[Note to Cece – try to insert this interesting little paragraph that was found by Dr. Sydney Rambone a few days ago on a dig near Thebes into the lesson. I feel it truly captures the main thread of my lesson plan, especially when it talks about the Soulless Ones as warriors. Who were the warriors and who was their king? And why would someone want to control these beings? I really wish I could join his team there in a few days…this piece has me so intrigued.]
*Reads* Soulless Ones [Nafsaqall WaHid] ~ disgraced warriors that violated their oaths, and have been stripped of rank, and of their sacred marks. For hundreds of years they have lived in the shadows of the great tombs as outcasts from our people, their bodies returning to the earth from which they came, controlled by the one who wields the shards from the death mask of Iret-iruw.
It is written in the by-laws that control over the Nafsaqall WaHid can be obtained by using the shards, and the Elders have appointed a guardian to ensure that this does not ever occur.”
[[tape stops]]
~*~
Late June 1925
Outer courtyard that leads to Lady Dareejah’s private quarters
Later that night…
Dareejah’s descent down the steps that led out to the square was as regal as a queen’s entrance to court and just as dramatic. The long ends of her silken robe billowed out behind her as dainty feet clad in silk slippers softly padded across the tiled walkway. The long lush veil of her hair swung enticingly over the generous curve of her backside as errant tendrils floated around her face and shoulders, toyed with by a wayward breeze.
The moon, it seemed, even paid homage to this lady of noble birth, bathing her body in a soft, ethereal light, temporarily hiding the passage of time reflected on her face. Dareejah took great pride in her appearance and when she stopped in front of Khaled Harb, she arched one finely crafted eyebrow as her dark gazed raked over his disheveled attire.
“Do you have what we require?” A handmaiden mysteriously appeared by the Lady Dareejah’s side and Khaled curse under his breath. His instincts, honed from years of living as a thief and a killer, had not warned him. He hated to be surprised and a quick glance around the well built courtyard made Khaled curse again; it was the perfect place for an ambush.
Khaled grunted and motioned for two of his men to come forward, his dark gaze sliding from one woman to the other. Allah how his body tightened from the thought of taking those sweet, ripe bodies and pounding into them until their screams of pleasure brought his own release.
“You said it was going to be easy breaking into the alchemist’s home and stealing the mask,” he grumbled and kicked one bag with his foot. It rocked awkwardly for a few moments, revealing a large dark maroon stain that was spreading across the bottom of the fabric. “That crazy old man was not an easy kill and the price for my services has just doubled.”
The handmaiden’s eyes narrowed in irritation over her veil. “Killing the alchemist was not part of our agreement,” she hissed. “He was to have been kept alive so that he could decipher the incantations on the mask shards and instruct my employer on their uses.”
Khaled’s gaze slide back to Lady Dareejah; her gaze seemed riveted to the bloody bag in morbid fascination. “I altered the agreement at my discretion, especially when al Mahir seemed reluctant to accompany us here,” he clarified and held out one hand. “I am certain that your employer will be able to find someone in the court that will be of some service.”
“We are not pleased with your spontaneous decision,” the handmaiden snapped as she produced a large cloth bag bulging with coin. “And since you have failed to honor an important part of our contract, the payment will be half of the agreed price.”
Khaled waited until his men’s protests died down and then boldly addressed Dareejah. “My men and I will get paid full price,” he growled and motioned for one of them to come forward. As a second bag was dropped on the ground, he continued, “The good and clever alchemist had kept a journal and the pages pertaining to the mask and its potential uses are inside.”
Dareejah knelt down and touched one of the bags as a soft, feline smile graced her lips. “So it comes with instructions, how marvelous,” she whispered as she stood up. She clapped her hands and two more bags of gold appeared moments later. “I trust this payment is more than satisfactory for a night’s work?”
Khaled eagerly nodded, pacified from the pleasing tone and pitch of Lady Dareejah’s cultured voice. As he knelt down to check his riches, a few of his men rushed to his side, just as anxious as he to know the true amount of their payment. “If you are in ever need of us again, send your handmaiden to find us and we will gladly be of service,” the murderer offered with a sly grin.
Dareejah wrinkled her nose as her delicate sensibilities caught the pungent order from Khaled and his men. “Of course,” she murmured as she gave the pre-arranged signal. “One must always applaud the willingness of those who would steal and kill for royalty; your service to your queen is most appreciated.”
Khaled’s senses, dulled by the prosperity that had been suddenly showered upon him, only caught the word ‘queen’ and he reacted too late. His head jerked up as the first of several arrows slammed into his body, hurtling it backwards. When it came to a dusty rest, Khaled’s last rattling breath was to curse the treacherous woman whose maniacal laughter floated on the breeze and echoed through his mind over and over until the blackness claimed him.
Dareejah wrapped her arms around her body as the air was filled with hundreds of arrows, her dark eyes bright with an unholy gleam of delight. She glanced at the other woman and was quite pleased to see that her previous assessment of her handmaiden’s loyalty had been correct. The young woman was clearly horrified by the massacre she was witnessing but she stood stoically by Dareejah’s side despite the occasional tremor that racked her body.
“Ya sitti,” the handmaiden asked as she kept her eyes averted from the dark splotches that stained the ground. “Are you certain this had to be done?”
Dareejah gestured for two of the guards to retrieve the gold and the bags, and then turned to face the younger woman as a faint smile of triumph graced her face. “One must always be prepared for blood shed when changing the course of a nation; it is the art of warfare. You have just seen the first of many acts to come that will change our lives forever; you should feel privileged to have witnessed this momentous occasion.”
“Aiwa, ya sitti, I am most honored,” the handmaiden murmured as she gave a slight bow. She waited until Dareejah swept past her, but hesitated a moment before joining her mistress, glancing around the courtyard. The bodies were almost gone now, and as the guards continued removing the evidence of the crime, she wondered if this massacre tonight was heralding a new and bloody era for her people.
~*~
Ralon braced his arm against one of the stone columns that lined the upper walkway and shook his head in mute repulsion, unable to comprehend the atrocity he had just witnessed. His horrified gaze roamed over the last of Dareejah’s guards spreading sand on the ground to soak up the blood as he remembered all of the ‘little chats’ he and his step-mother had over the past few days.
She had prepared him for this…had given subtle hints about Ardeth’s lackluster role as their chieftain that his stubborn heart and mind had gladly embraced…Ardeth was always the one at fault…she could only do so much since she was a woman but if Ralon spoke in her place before the Elders…Ardeth never listened…she had promised him so much and had given nothing but lies…she had influenced him into believing she was the one who had been wronged…all lies…
“Oh hulu Allah, what have I done?” Ralon murmured.
In listening to the fabrications rather than the truth, Ralon had also ignored Dareejah’s questionable behavior, and had foolishly been her champion to those who had believed otherwise. As the guards swept up the last of the maroon colored sand and erased the tragic event that took place earlier, he decided he must act…he needed a confidante but knew to approach Ardeth at this point would not be wise. Through Dareejah’s skillful manipulations, she had driven them farther apart and sadly, Ralon realized that Ardeth no longer trusted him.
Filled with the desire to set things right as soon as possible, Ralon hurried from the walkway and knew there was one person he could go to and trust…one person who would judge him fairly and not be swayed from his foolish behavior of the past few days. And if he lived through the encounter, he swore he would tell his grandchildren about the day he confessed his sins to Kedar Ishaq, Ardeth’s best friend.
~*~
“Do you see?” Thias asked softly and glanced at the woman standing next to him. His dark gaze raked over her body, finding the strange combination of slave and lethal beauty arousing; he reached over and touched her chin, making her look at him.
“Is this necessary?” Itosh asked in a bored tone of voice. “Order her and be done with it. I fail to see why we…”
Thias waved off Itosh’s impatience. “Anyone can order a slave, and they mechanically perform their obligations,” he crooned as his grip changed and he caressed the slave’s cheek. “I want this…this woman…”
“She is Mequeadorian, the last of her cursed kind,” Itosh supplied.
Thias blinked at the unexpected news. “Are you certain of that?” he asked.
“She bears the brand of an assassin on her right hip, near the top of her thigh.”
“An assassin now slave, how interesting.” Thias chuckled at this unexpected good fortune. The woman, he noted, had been watching them both with the unblinking stare of a predator and for a fleeting moment, Thias believed she was already anticipating killing them both.
“She will murder you while you are asleep. It is what they excelled at the most,” Itosh warned as they continued to stray away from the topic at hand.“Do you see?” Thias asked the slave again, and waved off any further comment from Itosh. “This is what I expect you to keep me safe from - that…that woman down in the courtyard. Clearly she is losing the last shreds of her sanity and only I have been blessed with the ability to keep her calm. Or at least I had that talent until tonight. She is unstable, and unpredictable; I will not have her impetuous actions ruin the plans that I have carefully cultivated over the past several years.”
The incredulous look that flared up in the slave’s eyes made Itosh snort and Thias pulled his hand back, ready to slap the insolence from her face. When she failed to flinch from the threat and seemed to be expecting it, his hand dropped. Frustrated, he yanked on her chains and forced her to her knees in an obvious position of submission, and then jerked her arms up.
“I am your new lord and master,” he hissed, his face red from his anger. He rattled the chains. “You will obey me and no other. I will allow you a modicum of freedom within these walls but do not take my generosity as a sign of weakness, thinking to escape.”
The woman struggled for a few moments when the awkward position of her body pulled on her arms but she remained silent, a tactic Thias had to grudgingly admire. “All thoughts of flight will soon leave your mind when you see the new cage I have for you, my pretty bird. Now answer me properly and in return I shall grant you a restful night’s sleep, away from any amorous advances from myself or my friend.”
Dark, almond shaped eyes slowly wandered up Thias’ body in a bold and defiant stare as she obstinately pushed at the hands that held her down. She lifted her chin a fraction, but stopped struggling, daring not to provoke her new master any further than necessary. “I will obey, my lord Thias,” she declared in a husky voice void of emotion.
“Splendid.” Thias beamed. He handed the chains to Itosh and gestured for them to follow him along the walkway that led towards his temporary quarters within the citadel. “As you will soon realize, my little tigress, I am a man of great importance and my life is quite invaluable. Danger lurks all around me, and I feel the cold touch of death at every turn. The Lady Dareejah has become a dangerous ally and I fear that her poison has saturated every level of this hierarchy; it was only a matter of time before it reached our chieftain.”
“There is another task for you to perform, slave,” Itosh eagerly added on, delighted at the intriguing web of deception. No tactic was beneath his friend Thias in order to gain power, and they had both agreed earlier that Dareejah had grown reckless; she was beyond their reasoning. And both men feared that in her mad quest for power, Dareejah would gain control of the kingdom and rid herself of those she perceived to be her enemies.
Namely Thias and Itosh.
“How tragic that I must do this in order to keep our kingdom free from Dareejah’s tyrannical claws but I do what I must, as any good councilor would,” Thias said as they walked out towards the main grounds and near his temporary quarters, a pious expression on his face.
“You are good for our people, my friend.”
“And I will be an even better king.” Thias smirked at Itosh and then turned back to the slave. He stopped walking for a moment and tilted his head as he studied the woman in front of him with a critical eye. “Do you have a name?”
“My name is not for you to…” the woman started to say but Itosh’s slap rocked her head back. She struggled to keep her composure although her hands ached to drive her knife deep into his belly for the killing blow.
“The antiquated customs of your people do not apply here, slave,” Itosh snapped. “Tell him your name or else I will ignore his decree of abstinence for tonight and take you here on the ground like an animal.”
“What is your name?” Thias asked pleasantly, ignoring Itosh’s brutal treatment of the slave.
She refused to wipe the trickle of blood from her mouth as the sacred words stumbled past her parched lips. May her ancestors forgive her for this sin, but it only added to the thousands of others that she had committed during her lifetime. The failure of what she had become weighed heavily on her shoulders as she said, “Khorai-ahj-she.”
Thias nodded his approval as they started walking again. “An interesting name, but I shall call your Khori since it pleases me to do so. As Itosh mentioned earlier, you will be given another task to perform and the fate of kingdom hinges on your legendary skill as a huntress.”
“Who is the kill?” Khori asked, her heart heavy within her chest.
“We do what we can in the name of our people, do we not Itosh?”
“Aiwa, we do.”
“And in the name of our people, and for the fate of the generations to come, I hereby order to you assassinate Ardeth Bay, chieftain of the Medjai” Thias gave a dramatic pause, and pursed his lips in irritation when his declaration gained little response. Thias thrived on theatrics and Itosh’s almost comical reaction did little to appease his bruised ego. He continued despite Khori’s appalling lack of understanding. “I will advise when the time has come; do not assume or ignore my orders, my pretty bird. Have I made myself clear?”
Khori bowed her head in submission even as her heart cried out against the injustice that was her life. She wanted to escape, to flee from this horrid land and find solace and comfort back in the rain forests of her youth. She wanted a home and family…she had wanted so many things but the gods had given her a different path to walk and she was forced to walk it alone.
As the words of obedience slipped past her lips, she quelled any feelings of despair and latched on to the old hatred that burned bright inside. When the time came, she would feed it and use its energy to her advantage, perfecting her skill as an assassin with the ordered kills.
And when the arrogant Thias and pig Itosh were lulled into a false sense of security, she would strike in an attempt to gain her freedom…or die trying.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
a/n – sorry for the lapse in updates, I wasn’t feeling very well last week. Btw, the Mequeadorian race and the name Khorai-ahj-she are obviously fictional and if you need to, please revisit my disclaimer at the beginning of the story. No offense intended, and will the addition of Khori cause more angst and new problems for Ardeth and the boys…? You be the judge. And many thanks to Ladybug, Dawn and Serena for simply listening when my muse went wild with the idea of Khori thrown into the mix…shukran ya saHib!!! Shukran!!!
Khori-ahj-she – noble of the heart
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Other Side – Part 6