Omens of the Nile Chapter 3
Title: Omens of the Nile : Omen of the Hippo
Author: LediShae
Series/Verse: Transformers AU
Kink OP and/or Prompt: 's Egypt prompt and WOI #19: 2. AU
Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly not even the idea.
Summary: Akhetaton, capitol of Egypt, prays with each rising sun for a terrible curse upon Pharaoh’s sons to break. A prophecy from their birth tells of an idol the white and red colors of the Dual Crown that offers their only hope of salvation. With the time before their curse is complete running like the sands of the Sahara, will a slave of Knossos save them before it is too late? Quasi-human-formers, AU, slight OOC, historical fiction.
A/N: Historical fiction as in a lot of things happening at the same time that were really centuries or millinea apart in reality.
Warnings: violence, slavery, death
Sixteen times had the floods swollen the Nile. Sixteen times came the scorching dry season to bring forth the hippo and crocodile. Today, the princes' birth day, marked the last two years before the curse took their lives. Optimus prayed with the rising sun disk as he had since their birth for the blessing of the Gods to save their lives. Yet the prayers went unheard. Despite the many thousands of ivory and carnelian talismans the princes now possessed the carved hares had not provided any respite from the prophesy.
The twin brothers once had been so close, best friends and sparring-mates when they were young and the curse was but a dark cloud in the distant future. Now, hate festered between them, and all attempts to channel their ever present rage failed.
With the sun disk of Amun-Re finally in the sky Optimus left his palace moving with swift strides across the complex to the small barracks the royal guards were housed in. There, before the low mud clay dwellings guards and nobles practiced the arts of war. Chariots raced across the baking sands pulled by camel and oxen. Archers and swordsmen practiced their trade while nobles nearby performed the artistic blade dances suiting their stations. Among the soldiers training as Egypt's prized sons, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker battled with the guards.
"The sons of Pharaoh grow strong, my King. Sunstreaker has no fear in his breast. Sideswipe is cunning as the fennec. They fought well in Mesopotomia, your lands now reach to Hazor above Jerusalem." The Aquerhu* headed descendent of Seth praised.
"This is known, Kup" Optimus sighed, choosing to watch his sons practice with spear and sword rather than look at his best general. The aquerhu had long vanished from the desert their massive forms no longer hunted the people of Egypt, but once in the time of the Gods it ran rampant through the verdant lands that now held only the shifting red sands. They had eaten the flesh of man and beast rising from the underworld to feast upon the living.
Kup was one of the last. The reign of Seth's** descendents had dwindled long ago. Now, the aged general trained the best soldiers of Egypt. His praise was rarely given and never lightly. Optimus sighed as he watched his sons knowing soon the curse would manifest as it had each year on this day.
On the practice fields before them Sideswipe faced off against the jasper green guard, Springer while Sunstreaker faced down the similarly wolf headed Ironhide colored the hue of moist red clay. The guards were descended of Wepwawet, the scout-god of the heavens that seeks the path to Egypt's continued glory. And, like the wolf that hunts the deserts Ironhide and Springer were loyal, fierce and unrelenting; unquestionably the best in Egypt. Yet, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe seemed to dance around them this day. The brothers were agile and swift getting bruising hits on their opponents with ease.
Red and yellow the brothers shifted and flowed their bodies moving like dancers their weapons acting as part of themselves. Their sparring continued fluid and graceful as they continually moved faster seeming each to be in several places at once around their beleaguered sparring opponents. Tensing, Kup moved to call off the match when blackness descended.
Ironhide and Sunstreaker separated but twenty cubits from Sideswipe and Springer were enveloped in the annual haze of blackness. Silence reigned over the field as all stared at the ever darkening blackness. Optimus closed his eyes, praying to the Gods his sons and guards would be returned unharmed only to snap his eyes open once more as screams echoed across the field.
From the consuming darkness hovering upon the field strode Sunstreaker and Sideswipe with eyes glowing baleful red. Mindless as the sandstorm the brothers slaughtered all of mortal birth upon the field turning the sands into crimson mud. Springer and Ironhide rushed to them seeking to cease the slaughter only to be flung like the scattered droppings of the hippo to land at Optimus' feet.
Optimus closed his eyes tightly breathing in the stench of fear and death as he raised his arms high pulling the powers of Anubis that flowed through his veins to bend the land of Egypt to his will. Strong winds buffeted the rampaging twins backwards from the fleeing mortals while the bloody sand molded itself around their bodies clamping down on the red and gold figures like roughly hewn sarcophagi.
As he exhaled Optimus pushed the bloody moisture from the binding sand turning the fresh mud into rigid clay stronger than the bronze and gold weapons they bore. Finally pinned the brothers could only howl and rage sounding like the hounds they so resembled baying after deer on the hunt. Optimus finally lowered his arms, releasing the taxing powers his ascension to the thrown had endowed him with and sighed wearily.
"Last year many were injured when the curse revealed itself." Optimus rumbled unhappily, "Now fifty men are dead. My sons must be banished beyond the lands of Kush. Next time it will only be worse."
Silent and brooding Kup ordered the god-descended guards to gather the remains of their fallen brothers, lying the pieces for burial out in the desert sands. Optimus remained with his sons, standing nearby as the Fury of the Red Sands slowly left them. Eyes drained of their red color looking out once more with tired, jaded striated amber hues.
"Father?" The brothers asked in unison, seeming to once more be the little boys who had clambored onto his lap when they were small and innocent.
"My sons," Optimus rumbled, voice warm and soothing still despite the bitter anger they held for their impotent sire. "You are safe now, and Egypt is once more safe from the curse."
"What did we do?" Sideswipe demanded, frantically wriggling within his confines to be free.
"The curse made you mad with rage. Fifty mortal soldiers are dead."
"Only fifty?" Sunstreaker asked blandly, face impassive but the trembling of his lips and growing moisture brimming in his eyes gave lie to his seeming cruelty.
"Yes, fifty. When I release you, you will return to your quarters. The children of Egypt must morn their dead." Optimus flicked his wrist as if absently shooing a mosquito from his hand and cast the hardened clay from his sons' frames, "Go."
Wordless and brooding the twins stood tall, striding proudly through the palace complex to the small warren of interconnected rooms they called their own. A small room appointed with cushions and several scribes at the ready made their study that led into a split corridor that terminated in separate sleeping and bathing rooms. Each shooed out their scribes, slaves and servants shutting all doors and windows to their private sanctums - and screamed. The shattered silence of their austere rooms witnessed the proud princes breaking down knowing the fate of the men they had slaughtered was not far from becoming their own.
"It has gotten much worse." Optimus sighed sitting at Elita's side within their throne room. Alone in the silent chamber they had time before the duties of state demanded their attention.
"Moonracer told me. She was watching for the darkness this time. She is weeping with the other wives." Elita replied scornfully of the lesser wives and concubines kept by the Pharaoh in his harem. The women ranging from the lofty, god-descended daughters of past dynasties to the lowborn mortal daughters of lesser lords of Egypt were weak and timid. Even when allowed they rarely strayed from the cosseted confines of their bower.
"Do not judge them harshly, my love. They were never the brave war-lady you are." He caressed the side of her face tenderly, "My wives serve their duties as my Great Wife serves her own."
"Perhaps," Elita replied bitterly, thinking longingly of the slight swell in Moonracer's abdomen, how the youngest of Pharo's six wives glowed with new life growing within her. How the young goddess-born held the blessing Elita desperately longed for. "She also spoke of your plans to banish our sons."
Optimus froze at Elita's dark tone, self-preserving fear tingling along his spine. "In three seasons they have grown from being able to be controlled by their guards to having the strength of the violent hippo bull."
"And should they perish on this 'banishment'?" Elita demanded, "They are our only sons! Without grown heirs Egypt is in constant peril. There are barbarians across the Red Sands, pirates thrive beyond the delta and in the Sea of Punt. When one of them takes your life, who will protect Egypt?"
"I do not know. The great King of Osiris' get secured peace with Byblos and protection from Akkadia and Assyria. Our ally and our trade partners keep Egypt strong. She will protect her sons."
"Then you agree, our sons will not leave Egypt when the curse is upon them. They shall be taken to Faiyum and placed with the Imohag. Their gods may withstand the curse upon our sons." Elita decreed, daring Optimus to contradict her with arch narrowed eyes.
"And you do not believe they may perish by barbarians in Faiyum?" Optimus asked sadly, "Six attacks upon the waters there have been repelled since harvest."
Elita sighed, eyes glittering with tears she would never shed, "Then a miracle must be found before we lose our sons, and the Anubis Dynasty." She bowed her head, "As no solution shall come from my barren womb."
"Hush," Optimus soothed, holding her hand in the only display of affection he dared show in the open throne room. "We will find our miracle and bring Egypt continued greatness." It was a promise only Pharaoh could make an oath to cure their sons, her inability to carry a child since their births and to keep the Two Lands strong. As the living God only he held such power his oath was the oath of all the Gods of the heavens, earth and the underworld below.
"I think my fingers shall fall off." Wheeljack groaned in exhaustion when the slave vessel finally ground to a halt in whatever port they called their destination. "Two weeks surviving on watery millet and gruel shackled to the long benches across this pirate's vessel has worn us down, brother." The hunched, god-born hare of Spartan mother and Athenian father spoke lowly but true. Their arms long since burning beyond the point of agony could only tremble while the thick calloused pads of their animal-like hands slowly bled from broken blisters and open wounds.
Ratchet only glared lethally at their captors, willing the strange men of the sea to be taken by Poseidon to feed the Kraken or drug back across the sea to Aetokremnos, land of the Cyclops to be eaten as the brave men of Odysseus were by Polyphemus. Only the dark skinned men with eyes of amber continued to yell in their strange language as they scaled the rigging on their intimidating vessel. They hurried to tie down sails and moor the vessel before removing the slaves for market.
Wheeljack looked to his brother when the sound of wood splintering sounded over their captor's movements. Jack shuddered watching as flecks of wood poured from Ratchet's mouth in trickles of blood as he gnawed fiercely upon the bit keeping him mute and his teeth safely from damaging the hands of their captors further. Several still had their hands wrapped from his teeth, chunks of skin and flesh missing to the enraged god-born hare as he struggled, pulling all attention onto his muscular, compact form from that of his brother, keeping the sheltered figure of Perceptor safe from their greedy eyes. The beatings Ratchet took before the pirates could force him onto the oar were worth ensuring none noticed young Perceptor hidden under Wheeljack's robes filching food and water whenever night fell and the crew dozed on the ropes above.
"They say we are in Aegyptos to be sold in Rhakotis." Perceptor mumbled from under the thin covering of his father's robes. "Wherever that is."
"Hush, my son," Wheeljack shushed softly, "We are not safe yet we must disembark yet and be presented for sale. Only when we have entered the auction stockade may you come from my shoulders and hide at our feet." The three stilled on their bench Perceptor hidden upon his father's shoulders beneath the thin robes while Ratchet and Wheeljack sat chained to the bench and oar forced to transport themselves south across the vast Mesogieos south of the Aegean Sea.
Despite their silent prayers to the Gods wishing for the pirate crew to be slaughtered for the capture of their small family the god-born hares were freed from their seats with slaves from across the vast middle sea of Mesogieos to the sweltering land they had come to.
"By Hera," Wheeljack breathed once the sun blindness left his eyes, "We are in the fabled Two Kingdoms of the Black Lands." Forced with the others they crossed the proud docks from their captors' vessel staggering weakly in the oppressive heat as they were forced through the straggling tents of merchants and craftsmen, past stands of beasts for sale and slaughter, until they finally reached a massive stone walled stockade filled with the barbarians of the world for sale like common sheep and goats. Beyond the stockade the land stretched on splitting into shifting red sands that bordered the fertile black soil that bounded an oncoming river rich with small shallow keeled vessels plying goods upstream.
Wheeljack flinched when the sound of wood shattering sounded loudly beside him, wide eyed he stared as Ratchet spat out the broken remains of his bit, bloody spittle and froth flecking the pinkish edges of his lips casting a hue of madness across his white face. Dark doe eyes now shone like polished gems in the relentless sunlight flecks of crimson and gold danced in their depths as if imbued with the sparks of Hephaestus' forge high in Olympus.
"What godless place is this that the river runs north and men bear the heads of beasts like the fallen Asterion turned minotaur?" Ratchet finally demanded softly, hair along the back of his neck standing up at the sight of innumerable men and women dressed in strange garb all brightly hued as the flowers and bearing the heads of beasts familiar and unknown.
"I can see their words, father," Perceptor spoke from his hiding place, eyes glowing he took in the strange tongue of the man-beasts making it his own. Malachite hued eyes still glowing unnaturally Perceptor captured his uncle's gaze, giving the foreign tongue to Ratchet who clasped his brother's hand in his own allowing the gift to be shared. As Perceptor's eyes blinked unsteadily, the strange light leaving them the words of those around them transformed no longer a mass of alien sounds but now understood as if it were their own.
"Get the slaves into the stockade!" The captain of their captors drove the slave line into the towering mud brick structure. Curses and cries filled the air, and instantly Ratchet found himself longing for his prior ignorance.
As the first words to be understood since their capture rang in their ears Ratchet and Wheeljack were hauled at the end of their line into the cool shade of the stockade's processing entrance. Before them slaves were stripped naked, covered with white powder whose scent stung the nose and checked by healers for illnesses making them unsuited for sale. Mortal men had their heads shaved, then forced into the scorching daylight beyond with only their shackled hands to cover their modesty.
Wheeljack tensed, suddenly realizing his plan would not work. It was too late, the entrance leading into this shady haven from the sun had been sealed with heavy timbers. The only escape lay in going forward and that guaranteed Perceptor becoming a slave to be sold independently and never seen again.
Ratchet watched the swift movements of the clerks and scribes ahead, noticed the heavy rings in their chains being looped over standing bronze posts to keep the slaves in place. Two men remained before them until it was their turn to come before the scrutiny of their temporary holders and slowly Ratchet knew how to escape. He grasped his brother's hand squeezing twice then thrice then twice more again, their silent signal to follow the leader made up when they had come to their father from separate mothers of different lands, created when two boys knew not the other's language but still only had each other as friends.
Nodding Wheeljack loosened his muscles slightly letting Ratchet take the lead. His older brother had grown on Crete raised as one of the beautiful men of the labyrinth fearless and wily. The two slaves before them were brought up to the clerks, drug struggling but unable to break the binding shackles and chains. Only when the loop of metal linking Wheeljack to the mortal before him was placed over the standing rod did Ratchet move. He signaled his brother to run causing the chain to be pulled tight then grasped a heavy beating rod from a guard and brought it down heavily upon the taunt link shattering it.
Free, the brothers ran racing through the short corridor from processing to the stockade leapt over the line of guards and crossed the dense field of human chattel to leap mightily over the high stockade walls. Landing lightly they turned towards the nearby river bolting through crowds and screaming women. Animals panicked as guards chased them across the chaotic market until at last, the hares reached the river's edge and leapt for the safety of the water - Only to land in a waiting net just below the rippling surface. Falling into its weighted clutches they were instantly trapped and hauled up struggling like writhing river eels seeking escape.
Cursing as they were brought up coated with unknown black muck and reeking of decay Ratchet and Wheeljack wriggled and writhed until they could free Perceptor of his linen confines ensuring he would not be harmed when they were finally set down. Their efforts complete they stilled looking through the thick weave of the net they watched as two wolf-men and a cat-man approached, all glaring balefully at them in silence.
* Aquerhu - this is a completely made up word.
** Egyptian images of Seth show an animal that no one has been able to clearly define. Suggestions range from a camel to a dog and any number of possibilities. The suggestion I liked the best was of the aardvark. To my knowledge there has never been a gigantic carnivorous aardvark, but it looks good on paper. ^.^
Chapters : 1 : 2
Also on FF.net
Author: LediShae
Series/Verse: Transformers AU
Kink OP and/or Prompt: 's Egypt prompt and WOI #19: 2. AU
Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly not even the idea.
Summary: Akhetaton, capitol of Egypt, prays with each rising sun for a terrible curse upon Pharaoh’s sons to break. A prophecy from their birth tells of an idol the white and red colors of the Dual Crown that offers their only hope of salvation. With the time before their curse is complete running like the sands of the Sahara, will a slave of Knossos save them before it is too late? Quasi-human-formers, AU, slight OOC, historical fiction.
A/N: Historical fiction as in a lot of things happening at the same time that were really centuries or millinea apart in reality.
Warnings: violence, slavery, death
Sixteen times had the floods swollen the Nile. Sixteen times came the scorching dry season to bring forth the hippo and crocodile. Today, the princes' birth day, marked the last two years before the curse took their lives. Optimus prayed with the rising sun disk as he had since their birth for the blessing of the Gods to save their lives. Yet the prayers went unheard. Despite the many thousands of ivory and carnelian talismans the princes now possessed the carved hares had not provided any respite from the prophesy.
The twin brothers once had been so close, best friends and sparring-mates when they were young and the curse was but a dark cloud in the distant future. Now, hate festered between them, and all attempts to channel their ever present rage failed.
With the sun disk of Amun-Re finally in the sky Optimus left his palace moving with swift strides across the complex to the small barracks the royal guards were housed in. There, before the low mud clay dwellings guards and nobles practiced the arts of war. Chariots raced across the baking sands pulled by camel and oxen. Archers and swordsmen practiced their trade while nobles nearby performed the artistic blade dances suiting their stations. Among the soldiers training as Egypt's prized sons, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker battled with the guards.
"The sons of Pharaoh grow strong, my King. Sunstreaker has no fear in his breast. Sideswipe is cunning as the fennec. They fought well in Mesopotomia, your lands now reach to Hazor above Jerusalem." The Aquerhu* headed descendent of Seth praised.
"This is known, Kup" Optimus sighed, choosing to watch his sons practice with spear and sword rather than look at his best general. The aquerhu had long vanished from the desert their massive forms no longer hunted the people of Egypt, but once in the time of the Gods it ran rampant through the verdant lands that now held only the shifting red sands. They had eaten the flesh of man and beast rising from the underworld to feast upon the living.
Kup was one of the last. The reign of Seth's** descendents had dwindled long ago. Now, the aged general trained the best soldiers of Egypt. His praise was rarely given and never lightly. Optimus sighed as he watched his sons knowing soon the curse would manifest as it had each year on this day.
On the practice fields before them Sideswipe faced off against the jasper green guard, Springer while Sunstreaker faced down the similarly wolf headed Ironhide colored the hue of moist red clay. The guards were descended of Wepwawet, the scout-god of the heavens that seeks the path to Egypt's continued glory. And, like the wolf that hunts the deserts Ironhide and Springer were loyal, fierce and unrelenting; unquestionably the best in Egypt. Yet, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe seemed to dance around them this day. The brothers were agile and swift getting bruising hits on their opponents with ease.
Red and yellow the brothers shifted and flowed their bodies moving like dancers their weapons acting as part of themselves. Their sparring continued fluid and graceful as they continually moved faster seeming each to be in several places at once around their beleaguered sparring opponents. Tensing, Kup moved to call off the match when blackness descended.
Ironhide and Sunstreaker separated but twenty cubits from Sideswipe and Springer were enveloped in the annual haze of blackness. Silence reigned over the field as all stared at the ever darkening blackness. Optimus closed his eyes, praying to the Gods his sons and guards would be returned unharmed only to snap his eyes open once more as screams echoed across the field.
From the consuming darkness hovering upon the field strode Sunstreaker and Sideswipe with eyes glowing baleful red. Mindless as the sandstorm the brothers slaughtered all of mortal birth upon the field turning the sands into crimson mud. Springer and Ironhide rushed to them seeking to cease the slaughter only to be flung like the scattered droppings of the hippo to land at Optimus' feet.
Optimus closed his eyes tightly breathing in the stench of fear and death as he raised his arms high pulling the powers of Anubis that flowed through his veins to bend the land of Egypt to his will. Strong winds buffeted the rampaging twins backwards from the fleeing mortals while the bloody sand molded itself around their bodies clamping down on the red and gold figures like roughly hewn sarcophagi.
As he exhaled Optimus pushed the bloody moisture from the binding sand turning the fresh mud into rigid clay stronger than the bronze and gold weapons they bore. Finally pinned the brothers could only howl and rage sounding like the hounds they so resembled baying after deer on the hunt. Optimus finally lowered his arms, releasing the taxing powers his ascension to the thrown had endowed him with and sighed wearily.
"Last year many were injured when the curse revealed itself." Optimus rumbled unhappily, "Now fifty men are dead. My sons must be banished beyond the lands of Kush. Next time it will only be worse."
Silent and brooding Kup ordered the god-descended guards to gather the remains of their fallen brothers, lying the pieces for burial out in the desert sands. Optimus remained with his sons, standing nearby as the Fury of the Red Sands slowly left them. Eyes drained of their red color looking out once more with tired, jaded striated amber hues.
"Father?" The brothers asked in unison, seeming to once more be the little boys who had clambored onto his lap when they were small and innocent.
"My sons," Optimus rumbled, voice warm and soothing still despite the bitter anger they held for their impotent sire. "You are safe now, and Egypt is once more safe from the curse."
"What did we do?" Sideswipe demanded, frantically wriggling within his confines to be free.
"The curse made you mad with rage. Fifty mortal soldiers are dead."
"Only fifty?" Sunstreaker asked blandly, face impassive but the trembling of his lips and growing moisture brimming in his eyes gave lie to his seeming cruelty.
"Yes, fifty. When I release you, you will return to your quarters. The children of Egypt must morn their dead." Optimus flicked his wrist as if absently shooing a mosquito from his hand and cast the hardened clay from his sons' frames, "Go."
Wordless and brooding the twins stood tall, striding proudly through the palace complex to the small warren of interconnected rooms they called their own. A small room appointed with cushions and several scribes at the ready made their study that led into a split corridor that terminated in separate sleeping and bathing rooms. Each shooed out their scribes, slaves and servants shutting all doors and windows to their private sanctums - and screamed. The shattered silence of their austere rooms witnessed the proud princes breaking down knowing the fate of the men they had slaughtered was not far from becoming their own.
"It has gotten much worse." Optimus sighed sitting at Elita's side within their throne room. Alone in the silent chamber they had time before the duties of state demanded their attention.
"Moonracer told me. She was watching for the darkness this time. She is weeping with the other wives." Elita replied scornfully of the lesser wives and concubines kept by the Pharaoh in his harem. The women ranging from the lofty, god-descended daughters of past dynasties to the lowborn mortal daughters of lesser lords of Egypt were weak and timid. Even when allowed they rarely strayed from the cosseted confines of their bower.
"Do not judge them harshly, my love. They were never the brave war-lady you are." He caressed the side of her face tenderly, "My wives serve their duties as my Great Wife serves her own."
"Perhaps," Elita replied bitterly, thinking longingly of the slight swell in Moonracer's abdomen, how the youngest of Pharo's six wives glowed with new life growing within her. How the young goddess-born held the blessing Elita desperately longed for. "She also spoke of your plans to banish our sons."
Optimus froze at Elita's dark tone, self-preserving fear tingling along his spine. "In three seasons they have grown from being able to be controlled by their guards to having the strength of the violent hippo bull."
"And should they perish on this 'banishment'?" Elita demanded, "They are our only sons! Without grown heirs Egypt is in constant peril. There are barbarians across the Red Sands, pirates thrive beyond the delta and in the Sea of Punt. When one of them takes your life, who will protect Egypt?"
"I do not know. The great King of Osiris' get secured peace with Byblos and protection from Akkadia and Assyria. Our ally and our trade partners keep Egypt strong. She will protect her sons."
"Then you agree, our sons will not leave Egypt when the curse is upon them. They shall be taken to Faiyum and placed with the Imohag. Their gods may withstand the curse upon our sons." Elita decreed, daring Optimus to contradict her with arch narrowed eyes.
"And you do not believe they may perish by barbarians in Faiyum?" Optimus asked sadly, "Six attacks upon the waters there have been repelled since harvest."
Elita sighed, eyes glittering with tears she would never shed, "Then a miracle must be found before we lose our sons, and the Anubis Dynasty." She bowed her head, "As no solution shall come from my barren womb."
"Hush," Optimus soothed, holding her hand in the only display of affection he dared show in the open throne room. "We will find our miracle and bring Egypt continued greatness." It was a promise only Pharaoh could make an oath to cure their sons, her inability to carry a child since their births and to keep the Two Lands strong. As the living God only he held such power his oath was the oath of all the Gods of the heavens, earth and the underworld below.
"I think my fingers shall fall off." Wheeljack groaned in exhaustion when the slave vessel finally ground to a halt in whatever port they called their destination. "Two weeks surviving on watery millet and gruel shackled to the long benches across this pirate's vessel has worn us down, brother." The hunched, god-born hare of Spartan mother and Athenian father spoke lowly but true. Their arms long since burning beyond the point of agony could only tremble while the thick calloused pads of their animal-like hands slowly bled from broken blisters and open wounds.
Ratchet only glared lethally at their captors, willing the strange men of the sea to be taken by Poseidon to feed the Kraken or drug back across the sea to Aetokremnos, land of the Cyclops to be eaten as the brave men of Odysseus were by Polyphemus. Only the dark skinned men with eyes of amber continued to yell in their strange language as they scaled the rigging on their intimidating vessel. They hurried to tie down sails and moor the vessel before removing the slaves for market.
Wheeljack looked to his brother when the sound of wood splintering sounded over their captor's movements. Jack shuddered watching as flecks of wood poured from Ratchet's mouth in trickles of blood as he gnawed fiercely upon the bit keeping him mute and his teeth safely from damaging the hands of their captors further. Several still had their hands wrapped from his teeth, chunks of skin and flesh missing to the enraged god-born hare as he struggled, pulling all attention onto his muscular, compact form from that of his brother, keeping the sheltered figure of Perceptor safe from their greedy eyes. The beatings Ratchet took before the pirates could force him onto the oar were worth ensuring none noticed young Perceptor hidden under Wheeljack's robes filching food and water whenever night fell and the crew dozed on the ropes above.
"They say we are in Aegyptos to be sold in Rhakotis." Perceptor mumbled from under the thin covering of his father's robes. "Wherever that is."
"Hush, my son," Wheeljack shushed softly, "We are not safe yet we must disembark yet and be presented for sale. Only when we have entered the auction stockade may you come from my shoulders and hide at our feet." The three stilled on their bench Perceptor hidden upon his father's shoulders beneath the thin robes while Ratchet and Wheeljack sat chained to the bench and oar forced to transport themselves south across the vast Mesogieos south of the Aegean Sea.
Despite their silent prayers to the Gods wishing for the pirate crew to be slaughtered for the capture of their small family the god-born hares were freed from their seats with slaves from across the vast middle sea of Mesogieos to the sweltering land they had come to.
"By Hera," Wheeljack breathed once the sun blindness left his eyes, "We are in the fabled Two Kingdoms of the Black Lands." Forced with the others they crossed the proud docks from their captors' vessel staggering weakly in the oppressive heat as they were forced through the straggling tents of merchants and craftsmen, past stands of beasts for sale and slaughter, until they finally reached a massive stone walled stockade filled with the barbarians of the world for sale like common sheep and goats. Beyond the stockade the land stretched on splitting into shifting red sands that bordered the fertile black soil that bounded an oncoming river rich with small shallow keeled vessels plying goods upstream.
Wheeljack flinched when the sound of wood shattering sounded loudly beside him, wide eyed he stared as Ratchet spat out the broken remains of his bit, bloody spittle and froth flecking the pinkish edges of his lips casting a hue of madness across his white face. Dark doe eyes now shone like polished gems in the relentless sunlight flecks of crimson and gold danced in their depths as if imbued with the sparks of Hephaestus' forge high in Olympus.
"What godless place is this that the river runs north and men bear the heads of beasts like the fallen Asterion turned minotaur?" Ratchet finally demanded softly, hair along the back of his neck standing up at the sight of innumerable men and women dressed in strange garb all brightly hued as the flowers and bearing the heads of beasts familiar and unknown.
"I can see their words, father," Perceptor spoke from his hiding place, eyes glowing he took in the strange tongue of the man-beasts making it his own. Malachite hued eyes still glowing unnaturally Perceptor captured his uncle's gaze, giving the foreign tongue to Ratchet who clasped his brother's hand in his own allowing the gift to be shared. As Perceptor's eyes blinked unsteadily, the strange light leaving them the words of those around them transformed no longer a mass of alien sounds but now understood as if it were their own.
"Get the slaves into the stockade!" The captain of their captors drove the slave line into the towering mud brick structure. Curses and cries filled the air, and instantly Ratchet found himself longing for his prior ignorance.
As the first words to be understood since their capture rang in their ears Ratchet and Wheeljack were hauled at the end of their line into the cool shade of the stockade's processing entrance. Before them slaves were stripped naked, covered with white powder whose scent stung the nose and checked by healers for illnesses making them unsuited for sale. Mortal men had their heads shaved, then forced into the scorching daylight beyond with only their shackled hands to cover their modesty.
Wheeljack tensed, suddenly realizing his plan would not work. It was too late, the entrance leading into this shady haven from the sun had been sealed with heavy timbers. The only escape lay in going forward and that guaranteed Perceptor becoming a slave to be sold independently and never seen again.
Ratchet watched the swift movements of the clerks and scribes ahead, noticed the heavy rings in their chains being looped over standing bronze posts to keep the slaves in place. Two men remained before them until it was their turn to come before the scrutiny of their temporary holders and slowly Ratchet knew how to escape. He grasped his brother's hand squeezing twice then thrice then twice more again, their silent signal to follow the leader made up when they had come to their father from separate mothers of different lands, created when two boys knew not the other's language but still only had each other as friends.
Nodding Wheeljack loosened his muscles slightly letting Ratchet take the lead. His older brother had grown on Crete raised as one of the beautiful men of the labyrinth fearless and wily. The two slaves before them were brought up to the clerks, drug struggling but unable to break the binding shackles and chains. Only when the loop of metal linking Wheeljack to the mortal before him was placed over the standing rod did Ratchet move. He signaled his brother to run causing the chain to be pulled tight then grasped a heavy beating rod from a guard and brought it down heavily upon the taunt link shattering it.
Free, the brothers ran racing through the short corridor from processing to the stockade leapt over the line of guards and crossed the dense field of human chattel to leap mightily over the high stockade walls. Landing lightly they turned towards the nearby river bolting through crowds and screaming women. Animals panicked as guards chased them across the chaotic market until at last, the hares reached the river's edge and leapt for the safety of the water - Only to land in a waiting net just below the rippling surface. Falling into its weighted clutches they were instantly trapped and hauled up struggling like writhing river eels seeking escape.
Cursing as they were brought up coated with unknown black muck and reeking of decay Ratchet and Wheeljack wriggled and writhed until they could free Perceptor of his linen confines ensuring he would not be harmed when they were finally set down. Their efforts complete they stilled looking through the thick weave of the net they watched as two wolf-men and a cat-man approached, all glaring balefully at them in silence.
* Aquerhu - this is a completely made up word.
** Egyptian images of Seth show an animal that no one has been able to clearly define. Suggestions range from a camel to a dog and any number of possibilities. The suggestion I liked the best was of the aardvark. To my knowledge there has never been a gigantic carnivorous aardvark, but it looks good on paper. ^.^
Chapters : 1 : 2
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