Omens of the Nile Chapter 4
Title: Omens of the Nile : Sons of Typhon
Author: LediShae
Series/Verse: Transformers AU
Kink OP and/or Prompt: Death Mustang'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: mentions of slavery
Wheeljack watched warily from the confines of the net they hung in, long arms holding his son close. Equally long legs tucked up to his chin hid Perceptor from harm and sight. He glanced, as much as he could, to Ratchet catching a fleeting glimpse of his brother's hard, amber gaze. Ratchet glanced back, the brilliant play of sun and shadow making the flecks of gold and garnet in his eyes dance like a burning flame hovering on the edge of eruption into conflagration.
Around them stood guards armed with gleaming swords or wicked spears. The men, much like Minotaur of the Labyrinth, bore the heads of beasts and monsters upon the bodies of men. Some bore the familiar visage of the cat, hawk, wolf, or crane. Others were far more terrifying to behold. The amassed guards of heathen demigods hemming them on all sides brought to mind the tales of the old ones, those eternal heroes dwelling in the stars who had fought the cyclops, Cilla and battled their ways into Hades and back.
Only here, there were no Gods to guide them. Ratchet and Wheeljact let their eyes meet for but an moment, exchanging with their stalwart gaze the volume of fear they held and dared not show. "Percy, stay strong, be silent and be brave my son." Wheeljack murmured above his son's red ears.
The little hare nodded his head silently into Wheeljack's chest, his eyes screwed tight as he fought not to let the tears of terror fall. Held in this dark, stifling heat within his fathers robes, he knew nothing of the terrors without, but knew all too well that his uncle's silence doomed them all.
Behind Wheeljack, Ratchet tensed, burly muscles bunching and broadening as he readied to attack should they be let loose from their confines. He stared, eyes that burned like the forge glaring balefully at the newest figures approaching sedately from the market area.
"Ma'jai, stand down." A deep voice commanded smoothly. Within the net Ratchet and Wheeljack froze, their eyes wide as the figures finally cleared. Before their net stood two god descended children of the dog. One hued a tawny gold, made Wheeljack think of Lelaps, the golden hound that guarded the great god Zeus as an infant. The other hued the red of rich lifeblood bespoke of faithful Argos, Odessyus' faithful hound. Said to have hunted all the wild creatures of Ithaca in its youth the dog had been cast from its home when Odesseus had been presumed dead. For both dogs their ascent to god-hood seemed like atonement for their mortal sufferings. Lelaps had been cast to stone when chasing an uncatchable fox, and Argos had waited loyally for Odesseus for twenty years before greeting his master from a bed of filth and manure with a weakly wagging tail only to die an instant later.
Despite the battle fury building hotly in Ratchet and Wheeljack's chests, the brothers felt that the glorious descendents of the Dog deserved their positions as god-born children, the pair's nearly identical features brought to mind Cerberus, the three headed guardian of Hades and Wheeljack wondered what type of godly hounds this pair was.
"They are of Typhon, brother." Ratchet murmured, referencing the Titan, one of the last who fathered Chimera, three-headed Cerebus, two-headed Orthus, Sphinx and Hydra. Ratchet's hard eyes raked over the assembled demigods marking the serpentine headed children of Hydra, the strangely hued human shaped children of Sphinx, the dragon headed sons of Ladon, and the strangely arrayed children of Chimera. All were demigods, men with Godly heads and mortal bodies. All were monsters bearing the claws and fangs of the like no mortal could claim.
Finally the god descended hounds stepped closer to the net, both were tall and broad of shoulder, their amber eyes bright and bold. They were beautiful youths, their bodies chorded with muscle and covered with smooth velvety fur. Youths who would make the proud mortal men of Athens lust for their shapely forms and the hot-blooded men of Sparta praise their glory.
Wheeljack glanced at Ratchet with a smirk hiding his growing fears, "Even great Zeus had bold Ganymede, the beautiful shepherd, to be his cup bearer."
Ratchet snarled at his brother, dangerous white teeth streaked bloody red and rimmed in vile black, "Do not goad me brother, you will not win against my rage."
Wheeljack only smirked, even as he held Perceptor tighter to his chest. They had to taunt each other in their native tongue, speak and know they each watched over the other. Despite the torment he received Ratchet shifted so more of his back pressed against Wheeljack's hoping to stick close together and be better able to attack the descendents of monstrous Typhon. Despite his readiness a raging despair filled his heart and worried at his mind. What if the descendents of Typhos had overrun the Land of Two Kingdoms?
"What are they?" The red hound asked, his voice light, almost amused as his head tilted slightly in avid curiosity. Amber eyes that seemed warm and light looked upon the filthy, revolting forms bound within the net. Black lips drew up in an impish grin, casting an amber glance to the brother at his side.
"Hideous," The golden hound replied with a sneer. The long muzzle of the golden hound creased as black lips drew back revealing long ivory white fangs filling his massive jaw. "Are they mortal?"
"My princes," the cat-son of Chimera bowed low, "They ran faster than the strike of the crocodile, none could see their forms. They are both white, and believed to be descended of unknown, heathen gods from beyond the known world."
"Ma'jai, send for Pharaoh. His wisdom will dictate the fates of the heathen god-born." The golden hound spoke lowly with a deep, musical voice, eyes glinting dangerously as his teeth once more were bared warningly to the figures trapped within the net.
Ratchet listened closely picking up the strange word, crocodile, which he had never heard before. The word translated in his head, but the meaning was not clear and now he looked for clues in their captors' faces but none showed any. Behind them, churning in the waters scaled monstrosities with the dragon head of Ladon and the body of Hydra slithered lowly on their bellies as they basked in the hot sun or rolled and snapped devouring prey in the murky river.
Ratchet looked to Wheeljack, fear glinting in his brave eyes and both brothers knew they were doomed to die in the land of the Children of Typhos. The brothers leaned closely towards one another, both waiting in silent excitement for the moment they were freed to face their captors. Within their minds memories of being schoolboys on their separate islands, learning the tales of Typhos, the father of all monsters, his wife Echidna and their many children. The monstrous children of Typhos had been sent long ago to bring down horror and despair upon all of Hellas.
Yet, in the Land of Two Kingdoms they prospered as the animals and very peoples of this river-split land. Despair filled their hearts even as their spleen burned with their ire. Ratchet and Wheeljack waited, fear a cold, heavy weight in their guts but was ignored. Their only concern was to be rid of this cursed place.
Then, towering above the heads of all, mortal and god-born alike, as a walking statue as great Zeus himself, they saw him. A hound approached, greater in stature than any others. He towered like a giant Cyclops coming out of the heat hazed distance stepping with regal, even strides. Head held high he strode, muscles rolling and bunching beneath his multi-hued hide. His face bore hazel eyes that seemed to look through the souls of men which stared from a pale grey face, eyes rimmed in blackest kohl. His massive muzzle seemed to be held even with the horizon making his great height seem equal with the blazing sun-chariot of Apollo.
Shoulders, red as the spilled blood of Troy, were broad and powerful. A pectoral collar of gold plates hung heavy around his neck, a long chain dangling strange, heathen talismans at his dark gray banded, white navel. A pure white kilt of transparent silk gathered around his narrow waist, highlighting the massive, powerful thighs and long legs that trod effortlessly across the dusty ground. At the front of his immodest garb a heavy loincloth richly embroidered with beads and gems tinkled and sparkled as he walked.
Ratchet blinked, his eyes mesmerized by this powerful figure of blue, grey, white and red. Belatedly he noted the smaller hounds of red and yellow bore similar outfits, their own heavily embroidered loincloths reaching to their knees. All three hounds bore finer clothes than any of the assembled monsters of Typhon's get, yet even they, the hideous man-beasts similar to Minotaur, were finely clothed compared to the mortal men of the land.
"Brother," Ratchet spoke lowly in their native tongue, "Die bravely." In stoic silence Wheeljack could only nod and send a silent prayer that their names would be remembered for the glory they would attain in their final battle. Two sets of grim eyes cast their gazes readily upon the towering pharaoh and readied themselves to take as many heathen god-born with them when they made their journey to Hades.
Pharaoh stood tall and regal in the searing midday swelter, his amber eyes stared through the net and into the souls of the captured beasts within. He watched them, as his men and heirs waited in tense anticipation for their captives to speak or move. He could see two, both stained a brackish dark grey from the Nile's silt. Yet, their fierce eyes hid something, a secret they dared not reveal - one he knew far too well. With a swift glance behind him, Pharaoh looked to his own sons, recognizing the desperate resolve in the strangers' eyes to hide a child. With hard eyes boring into those of his captives, Pharaoh sliced the rope suspending the net.
Ratchet cursed as the net fell out from under them, dropping them unceremoniously to the hard, dusty ground. Snarling, and furious, Ratchet leapt to his feet, still trapped within the net. He crouched before Wheeljack who curled protectively over Perceptor, and guarded them from the sons of Typhos.
Optimus stared down at the blackened figures huddling close within the slack, encompassing net. The rich, black mud of the Nile had dried upon their bodies, the thick, sludge below them congealed in to hardened clay upon the shimmering sand.
"Princes, sons of Pharaoh," Optimus finally acknowledged his sons.
"Pharaoh," the pair greeted, nodding their loyalty without bowing when possible threats existed around their lord father.
"Pharaoh," a wolf-headed man glanced with piercing eyes hued the brilliant orange of ochre and bearing pupils of perfect spheres in there centers. "These creatures bear the forms of strange beasts, heathen god-born of distant lands."
The pharaoh stepped closer to their net, observing their captives with a serene, piercing gaze. "You understand our words." It was not a question, and earned him two sets of widened eyes illuminated from slanting rays of light lancing through the net to constrict their large black pupils to mere pinpricks. The light dimmed beneath scudding high clouds, making those strange, large pupils that seemed familiar to the Pharaoh to enlarge. Optimus breathed in sharply as he recognized the fearful eyes staring at him. Those same large eyes had stared at him from the wild creatures during their hunts in the sands. Their captives were hares.
Ratchet began to tremble when the Pharaoh's eyes widened, a light of recognition brightening his gaze. A scream rent from Wheeljack's throat as the net burst into flames, the ground beneath their paws turned into quick sand that sucked them down until only their waists stood above the suddenly rock hard earth. While Wheeljack shrieked his fear for his son, Ratchet watched, his eyes disbelieving as the god hound king summed fire into existence with flick of a finger and snuffed it just as easily.
Behind the king hound, his whelped sons used their own gestures, one to make the earth soft, the other to summon water from the river that rained down upon them like a torrent from the clear blue skies. The many descendents of demigods and great deities alike stared and gasped as the dark grime of the river's silt washed out of their fur.
Ratchet felt exposed, despite being nude he had never felt his lack of clothing, but now buired up to his waist in sand he felt exposed as never before. The many guards stared and gasped, taking his his colors of white with red hands and his brother's white with blue and green tufts upon his chest. Behind him he could feel Wheeljack lean close.
"Tha koitás, o adelfós mou." Jack's voice rumbled next to Ratchet' ear. They are watching you, my brother.
Ratchet's eyes stared back at their many captors and met each one, his gut sinking as he realized the truth of Whelljack's words. Every misformed child of Typhon stared at him, but not Wheeljack. "Den mou, ta chéria mou." He glanced back to Wheeljack and caught the same bright fear in his brother's eyes as he felt within his own. Not me, my hands.
"Heathen God-Born, sons from across the sea. You understand our words, and you will speak them or your corpses will be fed upon by the Red Sands." The great hound spoke solemly, his eyes seeming to stare into the very souls of his prisoners.
Ratchet huffed, "Then speak, great king, your name so we may know how best to insult you." Behind him Wheeljack snickered.
"You will bow, heathen, and speak politely or I will slice your tongue out." The golden hound snarled, crouching to place his head at eye-level with Ratchet.
"Then how would we speak, pup?" Ratchet spat. Before he could blink the intimidating hound found himself on his butt, as Ratchet shook his paw after punching the hound in the jaw. The red hound cackled with mirth as spears from the demigod guards pointed fiercely at Ratchet's throat.
"My name is Pharaoh Optimus." The massive hound finally spoke with his cool, even voice, "If you lay a finger or paw on one of my sons again, I will cut out your brother's eye."
Ratchet froze, looking from the Pharaoh to his brother suspiciously.
Pharaoh smirked, "I have sons, heathen one. Despite your brother's silence bonds of flesh and blood speak without words." The hound nodded at Wheeljack as he spoke and Ratchet sighed.
'Damn his eyes,' Ratchet silently fumed. Of course Jack's kind eyes would tell the world anything these strange deities could wish to know. "I am Ratchet of Crete. He is my brother, Wheeljack of Athens."
A red demigod bearing the fearsome countenance of the wolf leaned forward, "Speak ill of our royal family again, heathens, and my Pharaoh's wrath will be the least of your worries." The guard leaned close, his face lined from years in the field, his breath feted, his wicked teeth sharp and brilliant white in the sun. Ratchet looked the guard over with massive eyes, wondering what god whelped such a beast as him.
"Make m -"
"Brother!" Wheeljack yelped, cutting Ratchet off, "We want no trouble." Wheeljack's wide brown eyes pleaded up at their guards.
"Because you have something to loose." The golden god-hound spoke, his nose sniffing the air. "Your son must be getting heavy."
Ratchet gulped, Wheeljack gasped, and from Wheeljack's tattered and sodden robe peaked the head of a small leverett, his ears damp and floppy. The amassed guards watched, all staring gasping, oaths sworn and warding signs written with their hands upon the air as they took in the leverett's human eyes.
"How can a god-born son bear the eyes of the mortals?" Optimus demanded. The fierce amber eyes stared at the child with fear.
"Let us out of our prison and I will tell you." Ratchet sighed, "The lad has not eaten in days, let him and his father have some food at least. It matters not what you do with me, but do not prolong their suffering, please."
"And what of you? You will not eat?" Optimus asked calmly, his hazel eyes scrutinizing the red handed hare of white.
"Hungry rabbits eat their own paws if captured, I could survive the same way." Ratchet replied calmly. The surrounding guards shared nervous glances, all sons of Egypt knew the pangs of hunger. To so easily accept them and contemplate eating one's own flesh was something none of them could do.
"Ratch!" Jack warned, "Do not heed his words, Great King. Ratchet is a healer, the best of all Hellias he granted my mortal wife the capacity to carry my son. Because of his great skill my son lives, though our gods claimed her life in trade for Perceptor's."
"She died!" Ratchet snarled. "What good is a healer who cannot save his own patients?"
"A miracle worker." Optimus intoned, "And one we are in desperate need of." The massive Pharaoh flicked his hand as if shooing a fly and the earth pushed the hares out of their prisons releasing them to stand on once more solid ground, though encircled by lethal spears on all sides.
"What sort of miracle can a failed healer provide that your magics cannot afford?" Ratchet asked with a sigh, ignoring the threatening blades around him.
"Do you see, healer?" the guard asked in a low voice, his muzzle twitched towards the Pharao's sons. Ratchet blinked, his eyes glowing a fiery amber as the flecks of gold and crimson flickered like flying embers. Around him the very air seemed to shimmer as his eyes glowed. Across from him the many demigod and god-born sons of this land seemed to glow. All the guards radiated a brilliant orange, the hue of vitality. Pharaoh's sons, however, glowed a dark, sickly green. Within their guts black serpents of evil twisted and coiled, moving sluggishly.
"What darkness writhes within your sons?" Ratchet asked softly.
"A curse, placed upon them and my Great Wife before their birth." Optimus spoke softly. "Come, we have bathing pools and food at the palace." The massive body turned, leading his sons and guards who surrounded the dingy hares. Pharaoh raised his hands, the very waters of the river rising like a disk to gleam in the sun. As the waters rose ever higher the disk shimmered and glowed creating a doorway into a palace of stone.
"Enter," Pharaoh spoke and stepped within to be devoured by the radiant light.
Ratchet sighed, the water was warm, not hot like sands beyond the stone walls, nor cold like the Aegean Sea in winter. He was finally clean, his white fur was white, his front paws were once more as red as the carnelian stone. The wounds on his and Wheeljack's paws were bandaged and Perceptor's soft, coral fur was once more red instead of the filthy brown it had become.
"The big king said they had food," Perceptor swam across the shallow bathing pool to sit on a raised step by his uncle. "Can we eat now?"
Ratchet rubbed the little head roughly. "Yes, we will eat."
"Yes, we," Wheeljack stood from the water, "That includes you, brother." Brown eyes turned hard as Jack stared down his brother.
Ratchet smirked sadly, "Yes brother, I will not chew my fingers."
"Good. Perceptor, come on." Jack left the waters, leading Perceptor out of the square room that held only the sunken pool.
Ratchet sighed, he had a bad feeling. He wanted to go back to Hellas, anywhere but in this strange land of hot sun and deadly waters. He huffed silently and rose, letting the water cascade from his fur and stepped from the pool. A small smile lit his features as he looked down. Side by side, Jack's and Percy's paw prints crossed the floor. Percy's little feet were the size of one of Jack's toe pads. The little one was still so small.
He pushed the thoughts aside and left the room. Stepping warily into the room filled with scented oils and raised tablets of stone where slaves massaged the nobles. No one was there. "Jack? Percy?" Ratch looked around the room ignoring his nudity. The warm breeze over his still sodden fur felt cold, and made him shiver. A premonition of fear tingled up his spine as only silence answered him.
"You are a healer priest, or so Pharaoh tells me." A woman's voice filled the room, her tone was gravelly, husky. Ratchet stilled, eyes wary as a dusky rose hued anubis hound stepped into the room. "I am Great Wife Elita."
"Where are my brother and nephew, Great Queen?" Ratchet asked hesitantly.
"Safe, they will be my guests until my sons are saved. I am barren, the curse upon my children was also placed up me." She smiled distantly, "I always wanted another son. Your nephew will serve nicely as a surrogate - until you lift the curse from my womb."
Ratchet blinked, his eyes glowing like amber flame. The queen's words were only truth. Within her abdomen, deep within her womb a dark serpent writhed. Ratchet blinked away the radiant image of the queen and looked at her once more. "The curse within your sons resides within your womb as well. It is a serpent of evil. Great Queen, I must see the stars this night, and seek my Gods. Their guidance will direct my healing."
"You are in Egypt, healer. You will speak with my Gods." With her last words Elita turned upon her broad, beautiful rosy paw and glided from the room. With her exit several mortal slaves entered, bearing robes for Ratchet. Behind them were their guards all armed with strong bronze swords and sturdy shields.
Ratchet sighed, he had no choice but to bend to the Queen's will. Swallowing his ire he held out his hands and accepted the gold bracers snapped around his wrists and equally demeaning gold bangles about his ankles. A simple kilt was wrapped about his waist as he looked up to the tallest of the guards, an ebony man wearing a simple wig made of the hair of the ass. "There is something of mine taken by the pirates who brought me, who must I speak with to get it back?" Ratchet asked the guard glowering at him.
But, as expected the towering human who was darker than the shadows and nearly equal to Pharaoh's great height remained silent. When the slaves had finished dressing Ratchet the guard turned half a step and waited until Ratchet moved to follow. Only when Ratchet had stepped behind him, and remained two steps behind, did the massive ebon skinned guard move.
"To speak with you before the slaves is death for both of us." The guard spoke softly once they reached the long sandstone hued hall. "This is what you seek, I believe." He held out Ratchet's jade ear ornament. The carved oval bore two slits that fit over his ears and a carved depiction of the Rod of Asclepius on the front. The serpent entwined about a simple staff was the common symbol of a healer in Hellias, but here in the Land of Two Kingdoms, Ratchet wondered if it would mean the same thing. With a huff Ratchet grabbed the ornament and slipped it on, for the first time in months, he felt a piece of his soul fit back into place. With a huff Ratchet once more followed his guide to whatever destination had been chosen for him.
Jack grunted as he awoke. It was dark, the air hot and heavy with smoke and molten metals. He blinked, head thick with the strange fume that had sent him into slumber. "Perc-"
"Be quiet, slave." Jack's eyes flew open wide as he looked to the voice and gaped at a haughty osprey-headed demigod. A blue feathered head stared at him with fierce yellow eyes. "Eat, your strength will be needed." Wheel jack took the bowl from the strange talon tipped claws of the priest standing over him. With great care he ensured his fur never touched a single black feather on the demigod's hand.
"The gods send signs that you follow the path of Ptah, the god of craftsmen." The osprey tilted his head to the side, "Is this so?"
Jack nodded once, his mouth full of a thick barely gruel flavored with strange herbs and shoots he had never tasted before. It was delicious. It could have been flavored of rot and it would have been savory from his journeys. He found himself licking the bowl clean despite the osprey's dispariging beak clack and disdainful sniff at his actions.
"There is more, should you still hunger." The bird priest gestured to a small pot simmering near a furnace heated by slaves pumping bellows.
"Where is my son?" jack demanded softly, eyes hardening now that he could through his hazed hunger.
The osprey sighed, and looked to his talooned hands as if seeking an answer there. "The healer priest has been detained by the Great Queen. She doubted his willingness to cure the curse ailing her and her sons. She has claimed your son as her surrogate and will keep him for her own." He held up his hands for silence in the common gesture for peace. "I have no say in this, son of Wenet. The pharaoh has claimed your services as a crafter. You are his slave. Only if the princes and queen are cured of their curse will either of you be freed."
Jack sighed long and hard, "Probably a smart move. My brother is proud and will not bend for any threat to himself, but he would do anything for us." He looked to the osprey tiredly, "What is a Ptah? Who is Wenet? What am I expected to do here?"
The osprey nodded regally, "Ptah is our god of craftsmen. Wenet is a hare goddess. You are expected to work. Your hands bear the scars and marks of great workings, the caloses tell of working with stone and metal. The Upper Kingdom faces threats from Nubia and Kush, they have created a bronze stronger than our own. The smiths of our forges cannot recreate the Nubian blades, but the omens speak of your skills."
Jack looked at the metal bracers binding his wrists. "I will be lamed should I work with these. Chain my ankle, my leg, but do not make me destroy my hands."
"The bracers are to be worn anytime away from the forge. When you sleep, when you eat, when others call on your skills bear them humbly, and you may have Pharao's mercy."
"What am I to call you, unless you like 'bird'?" Jack asked at last, less worried as the bindings were lifted from is wrists. A chain and manacle attached to his ankle clanked as he shifted upon the hard stone bench upon which he sat.
"Mirage," The osprey demigod nodded regally once more and left the forge. Jack looked around, his eyes bulging with disquiet as he looked upon a dwarf with the head of a beetle standing over an anvil. No, the miniature man's head was not that of a beetle, it was as beetle. Small antenna twisted and twitched; the legs writhed framing the dark blue bug's body. The hardened shell fused with the pale grey skin of the man's neck.
"Move slave!" The beetle demigod barked. Complex eyes trained on Jack as he carefully stood, not wanting to discover what dark powers the creature possessed. He approached slowly, unaccountable terror filling him at standing next to so grotesque a being.
Jack frowned and breathed deeply, eyes closing over his shame before he spoke. "Yes, master."
To be continued ...
Note: All Greek words are translations made in Google Translate. I do not speak Greek of any kind.
* 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 : 3
Also on FF.net
Author: LediShae
Series/Verse: Transformers AU
Kink OP and/or Prompt: Death Mustang'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: mentions of slavery
Wheeljack watched warily from the confines of the net they hung in, long arms holding his son close. Equally long legs tucked up to his chin hid Perceptor from harm and sight. He glanced, as much as he could, to Ratchet catching a fleeting glimpse of his brother's hard, amber gaze. Ratchet glanced back, the brilliant play of sun and shadow making the flecks of gold and garnet in his eyes dance like a burning flame hovering on the edge of eruption into conflagration.
Around them stood guards armed with gleaming swords or wicked spears. The men, much like Minotaur of the Labyrinth, bore the heads of beasts and monsters upon the bodies of men. Some bore the familiar visage of the cat, hawk, wolf, or crane. Others were far more terrifying to behold. The amassed guards of heathen demigods hemming them on all sides brought to mind the tales of the old ones, those eternal heroes dwelling in the stars who had fought the cyclops, Cilla and battled their ways into Hades and back.
Only here, there were no Gods to guide them. Ratchet and Wheeljact let their eyes meet for but an moment, exchanging with their stalwart gaze the volume of fear they held and dared not show. "Percy, stay strong, be silent and be brave my son." Wheeljack murmured above his son's red ears.
The little hare nodded his head silently into Wheeljack's chest, his eyes screwed tight as he fought not to let the tears of terror fall. Held in this dark, stifling heat within his fathers robes, he knew nothing of the terrors without, but knew all too well that his uncle's silence doomed them all.
Behind Wheeljack, Ratchet tensed, burly muscles bunching and broadening as he readied to attack should they be let loose from their confines. He stared, eyes that burned like the forge glaring balefully at the newest figures approaching sedately from the market area.
"Ma'jai, stand down." A deep voice commanded smoothly. Within the net Ratchet and Wheeljack froze, their eyes wide as the figures finally cleared. Before their net stood two god descended children of the dog. One hued a tawny gold, made Wheeljack think of Lelaps, the golden hound that guarded the great god Zeus as an infant. The other hued the red of rich lifeblood bespoke of faithful Argos, Odessyus' faithful hound. Said to have hunted all the wild creatures of Ithaca in its youth the dog had been cast from its home when Odesseus had been presumed dead. For both dogs their ascent to god-hood seemed like atonement for their mortal sufferings. Lelaps had been cast to stone when chasing an uncatchable fox, and Argos had waited loyally for Odesseus for twenty years before greeting his master from a bed of filth and manure with a weakly wagging tail only to die an instant later.
Despite the battle fury building hotly in Ratchet and Wheeljack's chests, the brothers felt that the glorious descendents of the Dog deserved their positions as god-born children, the pair's nearly identical features brought to mind Cerberus, the three headed guardian of Hades and Wheeljack wondered what type of godly hounds this pair was.
"They are of Typhon, brother." Ratchet murmured, referencing the Titan, one of the last who fathered Chimera, three-headed Cerebus, two-headed Orthus, Sphinx and Hydra. Ratchet's hard eyes raked over the assembled demigods marking the serpentine headed children of Hydra, the strangely hued human shaped children of Sphinx, the dragon headed sons of Ladon, and the strangely arrayed children of Chimera. All were demigods, men with Godly heads and mortal bodies. All were monsters bearing the claws and fangs of the like no mortal could claim.
Finally the god descended hounds stepped closer to the net, both were tall and broad of shoulder, their amber eyes bright and bold. They were beautiful youths, their bodies chorded with muscle and covered with smooth velvety fur. Youths who would make the proud mortal men of Athens lust for their shapely forms and the hot-blooded men of Sparta praise their glory.
Wheeljack glanced at Ratchet with a smirk hiding his growing fears, "Even great Zeus had bold Ganymede, the beautiful shepherd, to be his cup bearer."
Ratchet snarled at his brother, dangerous white teeth streaked bloody red and rimmed in vile black, "Do not goad me brother, you will not win against my rage."
Wheeljack only smirked, even as he held Perceptor tighter to his chest. They had to taunt each other in their native tongue, speak and know they each watched over the other. Despite the torment he received Ratchet shifted so more of his back pressed against Wheeljack's hoping to stick close together and be better able to attack the descendents of monstrous Typhon. Despite his readiness a raging despair filled his heart and worried at his mind. What if the descendents of Typhos had overrun the Land of Two Kingdoms?
"What are they?" The red hound asked, his voice light, almost amused as his head tilted slightly in avid curiosity. Amber eyes that seemed warm and light looked upon the filthy, revolting forms bound within the net. Black lips drew up in an impish grin, casting an amber glance to the brother at his side.
"Hideous," The golden hound replied with a sneer. The long muzzle of the golden hound creased as black lips drew back revealing long ivory white fangs filling his massive jaw. "Are they mortal?"
"My princes," the cat-son of Chimera bowed low, "They ran faster than the strike of the crocodile, none could see their forms. They are both white, and believed to be descended of unknown, heathen gods from beyond the known world."
"Ma'jai, send for Pharaoh. His wisdom will dictate the fates of the heathen god-born." The golden hound spoke lowly with a deep, musical voice, eyes glinting dangerously as his teeth once more were bared warningly to the figures trapped within the net.
Ratchet listened closely picking up the strange word, crocodile, which he had never heard before. The word translated in his head, but the meaning was not clear and now he looked for clues in their captors' faces but none showed any. Behind them, churning in the waters scaled monstrosities with the dragon head of Ladon and the body of Hydra slithered lowly on their bellies as they basked in the hot sun or rolled and snapped devouring prey in the murky river.
Ratchet looked to Wheeljack, fear glinting in his brave eyes and both brothers knew they were doomed to die in the land of the Children of Typhos. The brothers leaned closely towards one another, both waiting in silent excitement for the moment they were freed to face their captors. Within their minds memories of being schoolboys on their separate islands, learning the tales of Typhos, the father of all monsters, his wife Echidna and their many children. The monstrous children of Typhos had been sent long ago to bring down horror and despair upon all of Hellas.
Yet, in the Land of Two Kingdoms they prospered as the animals and very peoples of this river-split land. Despair filled their hearts even as their spleen burned with their ire. Ratchet and Wheeljack waited, fear a cold, heavy weight in their guts but was ignored. Their only concern was to be rid of this cursed place.
Then, towering above the heads of all, mortal and god-born alike, as a walking statue as great Zeus himself, they saw him. A hound approached, greater in stature than any others. He towered like a giant Cyclops coming out of the heat hazed distance stepping with regal, even strides. Head held high he strode, muscles rolling and bunching beneath his multi-hued hide. His face bore hazel eyes that seemed to look through the souls of men which stared from a pale grey face, eyes rimmed in blackest kohl. His massive muzzle seemed to be held even with the horizon making his great height seem equal with the blazing sun-chariot of Apollo.
Shoulders, red as the spilled blood of Troy, were broad and powerful. A pectoral collar of gold plates hung heavy around his neck, a long chain dangling strange, heathen talismans at his dark gray banded, white navel. A pure white kilt of transparent silk gathered around his narrow waist, highlighting the massive, powerful thighs and long legs that trod effortlessly across the dusty ground. At the front of his immodest garb a heavy loincloth richly embroidered with beads and gems tinkled and sparkled as he walked.
Ratchet blinked, his eyes mesmerized by this powerful figure of blue, grey, white and red. Belatedly he noted the smaller hounds of red and yellow bore similar outfits, their own heavily embroidered loincloths reaching to their knees. All three hounds bore finer clothes than any of the assembled monsters of Typhon's get, yet even they, the hideous man-beasts similar to Minotaur, were finely clothed compared to the mortal men of the land.
"Brother," Ratchet spoke lowly in their native tongue, "Die bravely." In stoic silence Wheeljack could only nod and send a silent prayer that their names would be remembered for the glory they would attain in their final battle. Two sets of grim eyes cast their gazes readily upon the towering pharaoh and readied themselves to take as many heathen god-born with them when they made their journey to Hades.
Pharaoh stood tall and regal in the searing midday swelter, his amber eyes stared through the net and into the souls of the captured beasts within. He watched them, as his men and heirs waited in tense anticipation for their captives to speak or move. He could see two, both stained a brackish dark grey from the Nile's silt. Yet, their fierce eyes hid something, a secret they dared not reveal - one he knew far too well. With a swift glance behind him, Pharaoh looked to his own sons, recognizing the desperate resolve in the strangers' eyes to hide a child. With hard eyes boring into those of his captives, Pharaoh sliced the rope suspending the net.
Ratchet cursed as the net fell out from under them, dropping them unceremoniously to the hard, dusty ground. Snarling, and furious, Ratchet leapt to his feet, still trapped within the net. He crouched before Wheeljack who curled protectively over Perceptor, and guarded them from the sons of Typhos.
Optimus stared down at the blackened figures huddling close within the slack, encompassing net. The rich, black mud of the Nile had dried upon their bodies, the thick, sludge below them congealed in to hardened clay upon the shimmering sand.
"Princes, sons of Pharaoh," Optimus finally acknowledged his sons.
"Pharaoh," the pair greeted, nodding their loyalty without bowing when possible threats existed around their lord father.
"Pharaoh," a wolf-headed man glanced with piercing eyes hued the brilliant orange of ochre and bearing pupils of perfect spheres in there centers. "These creatures bear the forms of strange beasts, heathen god-born of distant lands."
The pharaoh stepped closer to their net, observing their captives with a serene, piercing gaze. "You understand our words." It was not a question, and earned him two sets of widened eyes illuminated from slanting rays of light lancing through the net to constrict their large black pupils to mere pinpricks. The light dimmed beneath scudding high clouds, making those strange, large pupils that seemed familiar to the Pharaoh to enlarge. Optimus breathed in sharply as he recognized the fearful eyes staring at him. Those same large eyes had stared at him from the wild creatures during their hunts in the sands. Their captives were hares.
Ratchet began to tremble when the Pharaoh's eyes widened, a light of recognition brightening his gaze. A scream rent from Wheeljack's throat as the net burst into flames, the ground beneath their paws turned into quick sand that sucked them down until only their waists stood above the suddenly rock hard earth. While Wheeljack shrieked his fear for his son, Ratchet watched, his eyes disbelieving as the god hound king summed fire into existence with flick of a finger and snuffed it just as easily.
Behind the king hound, his whelped sons used their own gestures, one to make the earth soft, the other to summon water from the river that rained down upon them like a torrent from the clear blue skies. The many descendents of demigods and great deities alike stared and gasped as the dark grime of the river's silt washed out of their fur.
Ratchet felt exposed, despite being nude he had never felt his lack of clothing, but now buired up to his waist in sand he felt exposed as never before. The many guards stared and gasped, taking his his colors of white with red hands and his brother's white with blue and green tufts upon his chest. Behind him he could feel Wheeljack lean close.
"Tha koitás, o adelfós mou." Jack's voice rumbled next to Ratchet' ear. They are watching you, my brother.
Ratchet's eyes stared back at their many captors and met each one, his gut sinking as he realized the truth of Whelljack's words. Every misformed child of Typhon stared at him, but not Wheeljack. "Den mou, ta chéria mou." He glanced back to Wheeljack and caught the same bright fear in his brother's eyes as he felt within his own. Not me, my hands.
"Heathen God-Born, sons from across the sea. You understand our words, and you will speak them or your corpses will be fed upon by the Red Sands." The great hound spoke solemly, his eyes seeming to stare into the very souls of his prisoners.
Ratchet huffed, "Then speak, great king, your name so we may know how best to insult you." Behind him Wheeljack snickered.
"You will bow, heathen, and speak politely or I will slice your tongue out." The golden hound snarled, crouching to place his head at eye-level with Ratchet.
"Then how would we speak, pup?" Ratchet spat. Before he could blink the intimidating hound found himself on his butt, as Ratchet shook his paw after punching the hound in the jaw. The red hound cackled with mirth as spears from the demigod guards pointed fiercely at Ratchet's throat.
"My name is Pharaoh Optimus." The massive hound finally spoke with his cool, even voice, "If you lay a finger or paw on one of my sons again, I will cut out your brother's eye."
Ratchet froze, looking from the Pharaoh to his brother suspiciously.
Pharaoh smirked, "I have sons, heathen one. Despite your brother's silence bonds of flesh and blood speak without words." The hound nodded at Wheeljack as he spoke and Ratchet sighed.
'Damn his eyes,' Ratchet silently fumed. Of course Jack's kind eyes would tell the world anything these strange deities could wish to know. "I am Ratchet of Crete. He is my brother, Wheeljack of Athens."
A red demigod bearing the fearsome countenance of the wolf leaned forward, "Speak ill of our royal family again, heathens, and my Pharaoh's wrath will be the least of your worries." The guard leaned close, his face lined from years in the field, his breath feted, his wicked teeth sharp and brilliant white in the sun. Ratchet looked the guard over with massive eyes, wondering what god whelped such a beast as him.
"Make m -"
"Brother!" Wheeljack yelped, cutting Ratchet off, "We want no trouble." Wheeljack's wide brown eyes pleaded up at their guards.
"Because you have something to loose." The golden god-hound spoke, his nose sniffing the air. "Your son must be getting heavy."
Ratchet gulped, Wheeljack gasped, and from Wheeljack's tattered and sodden robe peaked the head of a small leverett, his ears damp and floppy. The amassed guards watched, all staring gasping, oaths sworn and warding signs written with their hands upon the air as they took in the leverett's human eyes.
"How can a god-born son bear the eyes of the mortals?" Optimus demanded. The fierce amber eyes stared at the child with fear.
"Let us out of our prison and I will tell you." Ratchet sighed, "The lad has not eaten in days, let him and his father have some food at least. It matters not what you do with me, but do not prolong their suffering, please."
"And what of you? You will not eat?" Optimus asked calmly, his hazel eyes scrutinizing the red handed hare of white.
"Hungry rabbits eat their own paws if captured, I could survive the same way." Ratchet replied calmly. The surrounding guards shared nervous glances, all sons of Egypt knew the pangs of hunger. To so easily accept them and contemplate eating one's own flesh was something none of them could do.
"Ratch!" Jack warned, "Do not heed his words, Great King. Ratchet is a healer, the best of all Hellias he granted my mortal wife the capacity to carry my son. Because of his great skill my son lives, though our gods claimed her life in trade for Perceptor's."
"She died!" Ratchet snarled. "What good is a healer who cannot save his own patients?"
"A miracle worker." Optimus intoned, "And one we are in desperate need of." The massive Pharaoh flicked his hand as if shooing a fly and the earth pushed the hares out of their prisons releasing them to stand on once more solid ground, though encircled by lethal spears on all sides.
"What sort of miracle can a failed healer provide that your magics cannot afford?" Ratchet asked with a sigh, ignoring the threatening blades around him.
"Do you see, healer?" the guard asked in a low voice, his muzzle twitched towards the Pharao's sons. Ratchet blinked, his eyes glowing a fiery amber as the flecks of gold and crimson flickered like flying embers. Around him the very air seemed to shimmer as his eyes glowed. Across from him the many demigod and god-born sons of this land seemed to glow. All the guards radiated a brilliant orange, the hue of vitality. Pharaoh's sons, however, glowed a dark, sickly green. Within their guts black serpents of evil twisted and coiled, moving sluggishly.
"What darkness writhes within your sons?" Ratchet asked softly.
"A curse, placed upon them and my Great Wife before their birth." Optimus spoke softly. "Come, we have bathing pools and food at the palace." The massive body turned, leading his sons and guards who surrounded the dingy hares. Pharaoh raised his hands, the very waters of the river rising like a disk to gleam in the sun. As the waters rose ever higher the disk shimmered and glowed creating a doorway into a palace of stone.
"Enter," Pharaoh spoke and stepped within to be devoured by the radiant light.
Ratchet sighed, the water was warm, not hot like sands beyond the stone walls, nor cold like the Aegean Sea in winter. He was finally clean, his white fur was white, his front paws were once more as red as the carnelian stone. The wounds on his and Wheeljack's paws were bandaged and Perceptor's soft, coral fur was once more red instead of the filthy brown it had become.
"The big king said they had food," Perceptor swam across the shallow bathing pool to sit on a raised step by his uncle. "Can we eat now?"
Ratchet rubbed the little head roughly. "Yes, we will eat."
"Yes, we," Wheeljack stood from the water, "That includes you, brother." Brown eyes turned hard as Jack stared down his brother.
Ratchet smirked sadly, "Yes brother, I will not chew my fingers."
"Good. Perceptor, come on." Jack left the waters, leading Perceptor out of the square room that held only the sunken pool.
Ratchet sighed, he had a bad feeling. He wanted to go back to Hellas, anywhere but in this strange land of hot sun and deadly waters. He huffed silently and rose, letting the water cascade from his fur and stepped from the pool. A small smile lit his features as he looked down. Side by side, Jack's and Percy's paw prints crossed the floor. Percy's little feet were the size of one of Jack's toe pads. The little one was still so small.
He pushed the thoughts aside and left the room. Stepping warily into the room filled with scented oils and raised tablets of stone where slaves massaged the nobles. No one was there. "Jack? Percy?" Ratch looked around the room ignoring his nudity. The warm breeze over his still sodden fur felt cold, and made him shiver. A premonition of fear tingled up his spine as only silence answered him.
"You are a healer priest, or so Pharaoh tells me." A woman's voice filled the room, her tone was gravelly, husky. Ratchet stilled, eyes wary as a dusky rose hued anubis hound stepped into the room. "I am Great Wife Elita."
"Where are my brother and nephew, Great Queen?" Ratchet asked hesitantly.
"Safe, they will be my guests until my sons are saved. I am barren, the curse upon my children was also placed up me." She smiled distantly, "I always wanted another son. Your nephew will serve nicely as a surrogate - until you lift the curse from my womb."
Ratchet blinked, his eyes glowing like amber flame. The queen's words were only truth. Within her abdomen, deep within her womb a dark serpent writhed. Ratchet blinked away the radiant image of the queen and looked at her once more. "The curse within your sons resides within your womb as well. It is a serpent of evil. Great Queen, I must see the stars this night, and seek my Gods. Their guidance will direct my healing."
"You are in Egypt, healer. You will speak with my Gods." With her last words Elita turned upon her broad, beautiful rosy paw and glided from the room. With her exit several mortal slaves entered, bearing robes for Ratchet. Behind them were their guards all armed with strong bronze swords and sturdy shields.
Ratchet sighed, he had no choice but to bend to the Queen's will. Swallowing his ire he held out his hands and accepted the gold bracers snapped around his wrists and equally demeaning gold bangles about his ankles. A simple kilt was wrapped about his waist as he looked up to the tallest of the guards, an ebony man wearing a simple wig made of the hair of the ass. "There is something of mine taken by the pirates who brought me, who must I speak with to get it back?" Ratchet asked the guard glowering at him.
But, as expected the towering human who was darker than the shadows and nearly equal to Pharaoh's great height remained silent. When the slaves had finished dressing Ratchet the guard turned half a step and waited until Ratchet moved to follow. Only when Ratchet had stepped behind him, and remained two steps behind, did the massive ebon skinned guard move.
"To speak with you before the slaves is death for both of us." The guard spoke softly once they reached the long sandstone hued hall. "This is what you seek, I believe." He held out Ratchet's jade ear ornament. The carved oval bore two slits that fit over his ears and a carved depiction of the Rod of Asclepius on the front. The serpent entwined about a simple staff was the common symbol of a healer in Hellias, but here in the Land of Two Kingdoms, Ratchet wondered if it would mean the same thing. With a huff Ratchet grabbed the ornament and slipped it on, for the first time in months, he felt a piece of his soul fit back into place. With a huff Ratchet once more followed his guide to whatever destination had been chosen for him.
Jack grunted as he awoke. It was dark, the air hot and heavy with smoke and molten metals. He blinked, head thick with the strange fume that had sent him into slumber. "Perc-"
"Be quiet, slave." Jack's eyes flew open wide as he looked to the voice and gaped at a haughty osprey-headed demigod. A blue feathered head stared at him with fierce yellow eyes. "Eat, your strength will be needed." Wheel jack took the bowl from the strange talon tipped claws of the priest standing over him. With great care he ensured his fur never touched a single black feather on the demigod's hand.
"The gods send signs that you follow the path of Ptah, the god of craftsmen." The osprey tilted his head to the side, "Is this so?"
Jack nodded once, his mouth full of a thick barely gruel flavored with strange herbs and shoots he had never tasted before. It was delicious. It could have been flavored of rot and it would have been savory from his journeys. He found himself licking the bowl clean despite the osprey's dispariging beak clack and disdainful sniff at his actions.
"There is more, should you still hunger." The bird priest gestured to a small pot simmering near a furnace heated by slaves pumping bellows.
"Where is my son?" jack demanded softly, eyes hardening now that he could through his hazed hunger.
The osprey sighed, and looked to his talooned hands as if seeking an answer there. "The healer priest has been detained by the Great Queen. She doubted his willingness to cure the curse ailing her and her sons. She has claimed your son as her surrogate and will keep him for her own." He held up his hands for silence in the common gesture for peace. "I have no say in this, son of Wenet. The pharaoh has claimed your services as a crafter. You are his slave. Only if the princes and queen are cured of their curse will either of you be freed."
Jack sighed long and hard, "Probably a smart move. My brother is proud and will not bend for any threat to himself, but he would do anything for us." He looked to the osprey tiredly, "What is a Ptah? Who is Wenet? What am I expected to do here?"
The osprey nodded regally, "Ptah is our god of craftsmen. Wenet is a hare goddess. You are expected to work. Your hands bear the scars and marks of great workings, the caloses tell of working with stone and metal. The Upper Kingdom faces threats from Nubia and Kush, they have created a bronze stronger than our own. The smiths of our forges cannot recreate the Nubian blades, but the omens speak of your skills."
Jack looked at the metal bracers binding his wrists. "I will be lamed should I work with these. Chain my ankle, my leg, but do not make me destroy my hands."
"The bracers are to be worn anytime away from the forge. When you sleep, when you eat, when others call on your skills bear them humbly, and you may have Pharao's mercy."
"What am I to call you, unless you like 'bird'?" Jack asked at last, less worried as the bindings were lifted from is wrists. A chain and manacle attached to his ankle clanked as he shifted upon the hard stone bench upon which he sat.
"Mirage," The osprey demigod nodded regally once more and left the forge. Jack looked around, his eyes bulging with disquiet as he looked upon a dwarf with the head of a beetle standing over an anvil. No, the miniature man's head was not that of a beetle, it was as beetle. Small antenna twisted and twitched; the legs writhed framing the dark blue bug's body. The hardened shell fused with the pale grey skin of the man's neck.
"Move slave!" The beetle demigod barked. Complex eyes trained on Jack as he carefully stood, not wanting to discover what dark powers the creature possessed. He approached slowly, unaccountable terror filling him at standing next to so grotesque a being.
Jack frowned and breathed deeply, eyes closing over his shame before he spoke. "Yes, master."
To be continued ...
Note: All Greek words are translations made in Google Translate. I do not speak Greek of any kind.
* 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 : 3
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