Omens of the Nile Chapter 5
Title: Omens of the Nile
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.
Words of Weneu
Perceptor dreamed. He could smell the hot sun on the golden grass outside the home he had been born in. The rich flavor of sea filled the air. A shuttle danced across the loom, humming in his father's tongue lilted across the breeze. The humming approached, the scent of wildflowers and ripe olives filled his nose. He smiled, and knew his beloved mother was bending over him.
Soft hands gathered him close to her soft breast, the shush of fabric against his fur comforted him. She was beautiful and gentle, like the morning sea. With a contented sigh he nuzzled into her soft furred hand -
"You're not my mother!" He fell from the soft lap that cradled him and scurried backwards, paws skittering across the polished stone floor. Eyes wide, he stared at the terrifying image of the towering pink jackal-queen seated on a rush bed.
"I am Great Queen Elita. You now are one of my sons, to stand by my side until the slave-priest Ratchet completes his miracle, or you grow into a warrior of Egypt."
"No!" Perceptor shook his head, eyes wide with fear. He remembered his uncle's voice from the shores of Crete sounding as a prophecy of Apollo telling him he would be forced to learn the art of war before his twelfth year. Now, those words were to come true in the form of this warrior queen staring through his flesh to the soul within.
"The slave-priest has left you no option." She spoke calmly, "Now, my son, come." She stood and strode to the door. Her shoulders were proud and strong. Long arms lean with muscle rippled with her movements. The pink fur adorning her flesh was healthy and shiny, yet laced with battle scars no woman of Hellas would ever proudly boast.
"If I do not?" He asked, afraid to follow, afraid not to. His words trembled, "What will you do to my father?"
"The white hare is slave to the forges. He is not mine to control, but my words could make his life less - difficult." Her words chilled him as did her one fierce amber eye staring over her shoulder at him. Perceptor had seen the slaves of the markets being whipped and tied in the hot sun to suffer. In each image it was his father to suffer and his uncle forced to use the lash across the sheltering broad shoulders to bring down such agony.
"I will follow, M-mother." Percy nearly choked on the word, forcing it from his lips like sucked venom from a snakebite. He felt ill, as if he had forsaken sweet Irnicleas, his own mother, with the vile word.
They traveled from the small room Percy had woken in, down a wide corridor, to a massive room built like a long hall. The walls were covered with baked clay decorations of strange black beetles, women made of stars and strange demigods of all descriptions mating like beasts. Perceptor averted his eyes, looking instead to the many sheer bowers that held beautiful women and the many young children that played around them.
"Sisters, meet my youngest son, Perceptor." Elita announced as she entered the harem and strode to a bower of purest white linen. She sat within, and bade with silent hands for her son to sit at her feet. Percy looked around once, smelled deeply of the incense that filled the massive room. The walls seemed to glow with memories of passions he was too young to understand and he shuddered. Finally, he sat at her feet and silently suffered as she deftly wove a black wig of ox hair over his head.
"Why do you braid cords into the hair?" Percy finally asked as she finished the first slender braids near his face.
"To hold the talismans prescribed to protect you. At sun's setting Priest Mirage will read of your future and know the evils to come for you." She spoke gently as she worked, her hands moving the false hair with experienced ease.
"When the curse is lifted, will I be allowed to go back to my father?" Percy asked softly, his heart trembling in the silence before the answer.
"Yes, you and your father will be released." Elita promised.
"But not Uncle Ratch." Percy spoke lowly, he understood that a healer priest was a rare find. All his life he had watched lords and kings attempt to win Ratchet to their palaces with promises of jewels and gold or threats of violence. Until now none had succeeded. None had thought to use his family against Ratchet.
"That is not up to me." Elita spoke. "Ratchet is for my sons, they will decide if he is to go free, if their curse is lifted."
"It will be." Percy replied, his young voice filled with a faith and devotion unshakable even by the force of the gods. "Uncle Ratch brought me to life, he will never fail."
Ratchet moved through the silent halls behind the massive human guard that served as his guide. After receiving his ear band back the guard had refused to utter another word. They had moved through the main palace, beyond massive doors and through several smaller buildings each resplendent with highly polished stone floors and painted motifs decorating the ceilings and walls.
"Halt," The guard murmured as Ratchet looked up to a massive set of burnished wooden doors set into the stone of the next building. They stood in the sweltering heat of the late afternoon. Surrounding buildings hid the massive river from their eyes but not the scent of the waters or the stench of the men and beasts that lived at its banks. Calls of fishermen and herders filled the air. Overhead birds took wing and temporarily darkened the deepening skies.
Without a knock upon the doors or any notice of their arrival a servant peeked from between the massive doors, opening them wide when he saw the white hare standing in the sun as a resplendent glowing figure of light.
"The slave-priest has arrived!" The servant bellowed into the building summoning more servants and their prince lords to the main room.
Ratchet stepped inside with a glower at the servant and stepped towards the twin princes before him. The princes were tall, one yellow, one red. Both had the same rich fur as their queen mother, both had the strong muscles and piercing eyes of their lord Pharaoh.
As Ratchet stepped into their view the princes had to keep their breath from catching. The slave wore only a sheer kilt about his broad red hips. A long woven loincloth the only thing between his manhood and their eyes. Long white ears reached to the sky bound together by a single jade adornment. Brilliant eyes the color of amber reflected glimmers of gold and garnet flame. Dark brows the shade of the storm cloud before the floods shaded his brilliant eyes. Long white arms bore hands of carnelian red, his body an equally shimmering white led to long, lean legs ending in massive hind paws with lethal claws stained carnelian red from his hocks down.
The slave was a walking idol. Sunstreaker's claws twitched ever so slightly. His fingers itching to discard the sheer kilt and ascertain if the same carnelian red stained the veiled hips. Beside him Sideswipe stared, long pointed ears swiveling backwards as he warred with himself.
The twins wanted to snarl at the creature before them. The adornments of ivory and carnelian had never saved them from their curse before. They yearned to rip the living hare before them into shreds and refuse the offering from the gods to their salvation. Yet at the same time, how could they? If they refused this living gift they sentenced themselves to death in less than a year. The season of flooding was almost done, only two seasons more then they would be eighteen - and dead.
"The Great Wife Elita bids me heal you of your curse." Ratchet spat, his eyes glaring furiously at the princes before him. "I must know of your afflictions, and of your souls to best know how to lift this evil."
Sunstreaker glowered at the slave's tone, lips curling up in a sneer. His eyes lit from within as his blood rushed with fury. "Know your place, slave. We are princes of Egypt, warriors of the Two Kingdoms and -"
Ratchet snorted as the princeling prattled on, instead of listening to the bragging whelp he discarded his ear band and kilt, disregarding his nudity and launched himself at the golden prince. The twins, mute as they watched the kilt fall to the ground in a pool of alabaster against the brown floor, failed to notice Ratchet's approach.
Carnelian red hind paws kicked into Sunstreaker's stomach, knocking the unprepared prince to the ground. Sideswipe could only look in time to see his brother fall before white ears blocked his view and a strong hind paw knocked his feet out from under him.
"I am a healer! I can best my brother in grappling. I have traveled the world and healed the greatest kings and chieftains in foreign lands. I am a free man of Hellas, and I bow to no one." Ratchet snarled as Sideswipe hit the ground and dogded Sunstreaker's attempt to grab him. He danced around the brothers his smaller frame and bulky shoulders dodging the failed attempts to grab him time and time again.
"Quit - running - and - fight!" Sunstreaker finally snarled.
"This is not your battlefield whelp-ling. There are no weapons to hurl at an enemy, no chariot to carry you to the opposing ranks before they can launch their arrows. You have only your legs, your feet and your breath nothing else will save you."
"Huh, I've never seen a man of Hellas wrestle a'fore." A deep gravelly voice rumbled through the anteroom. Ratuchet spun, for an instant his back to the brothers and suddenly he was pinned by four strong arms pressing him into the cool polished floor.
"Is this how the sons of Egypt win their wars?" Ratchet snarled, "You use old men to distract your opponent and take him when his back is turned."
"No," Sideswipe rumbled into Ratchet's ear his long fangs barely grazing the stiff edge, "in combat you would have been dead the moment you stepped into the hall."
"Release him." The deep voice commanded with a snarl, instantly the princes stood and stepped back.
"I'm Ironhide, chief trainer of these Set-spawned whelps. You've some skills, skills Egypt has long forgotten. I could use your abilities to better get these two battle field ready for their next rotation come planting season."
Ratchet stared down the strange faced demi-god before him, his flesh crawling at the sight. The creature was mud red, fangs thick and yellowed showed from his strangely formed maw. "I have been captured, drug across the sea, forced to make myself a target to keep my brother and nephew safe from our captors. I have been beaten, starved, lashed, chained and nearly sold. I have been covered in muck, buried in sand, doused with magically floating river water, and transported through a portal of ill magic. My brother is missing, my nephew claimed by a foreign queen as her son and now I am to be a present to whelps and told to train them in grappling when they will not even allow me to look at them to see the nature of their curse.
"You are their master, you train them. They can perish to this curse I care not. Let them be taken by this omen and the black serpents that writhe within them. Let them be eaten from the insides out and left as piles of meat for maggots."
"And what of your brother?" Sunstreaker asked lowly a faint smile twisting his long black lips sinisterly.
"He'll have his master panting at his hocks by sunset. I fear not for him." Ratchet snorted.
Ironhide chuckled, "Does he pass your test, my lords?"
"He does." Sideswipe replied instantly.
"If this was planned then I am the daughter of great-fanged Ladon hiding in your Nile." Ratchet grated flatly.
"Ladon?" Sunstreaker looked to Sideswipe, the pair shrugged in unison and Ironhide could only look askance of the hare.
"The god who bears the semblance of your guards." Ratchet pointed to several scaly headed warriors lining the halls.
"They are sons of Sobek, military guards and guardians against the Nile." Ironhide replied.
"So they are not of never-sleeping Ladon, guardian of the golden apples." Ratchet looked once more over the guards standing inside and finally noticed that one and all had swords, spears and bows at the ready - most aimed at him. He gulped, eyes wide and the grappling fury that had filled his breast fading as the swiftly melting mountain snow in spring to be replaced with the terror of how close to death he stood.
"Good, yer not completely brainless." Ironhide chuckled. "These two were ordered to not carry arms this day, and it is good - else you'd be gutted the instant you attacked the princes."
"And my punishment?" Ratchet demanded, he knew now that the princes either carried arms or were guarded or both. He would never have the chance to attack them again.
"Your punishment, is for the twins to determine - after they submit to your inspection." Ironhide smirked with his hideous mouth and turned from the slave-priest to stand before the massive entry door blocking all entrance or exit.
Resigned and with a hint of trepidation filling his heart Ratchet looked to the princes. "Just hold still." He rumbled, massive ears stately and tall as he stiffened, his whole body tensing as his eyes began to glow. The small specks of gold and red filling his amber eyes seemed to jump and dance like sparks flying from a forge. The twins were mesmerized, their eyes riveted to the dancing flames held within the healer's eyes.
Ratchet looked through the twins and into the core of their bodies. Within each brother a serpent of deepest shadow writhed through their guts. The shadow consuming the brothers was a curse, wicked and heavy set before their births. Hooks of the fisherman barbed through their internal flesh pinning the curse deep within. Neither of metal nor bone the hooks were barbs of darkness created to anchor the shadow serpents to the hearts of the twins.
Ratchet blinked, letting the stinging pain in his eyes ebb behind his lids. "The curse can only be lifted by killing the dark priest that set it." He pinched the short, stubby furred bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb pads with a tired sigh. "If I am allowed herbs and access to an observatory I will search for tho one who cursed you and seek its source."
"What of the Great Queen?" Sideswipe demanded, eyes hard and mistrusting despite the highly perked cant to his ears.
"Her curse was placed after your conception, before your birth. I will need to look into her." Ratchet finally ceased to massage his brow and looked to the twins, and their disturbed looking master. "What is it?"
"How can we know you speak the truth?" Sunstreaker demanded, eyes slitted dangerously.
Ratchet huffed a tired sigh, his head aching from using his god-sight once too often this day. "You do not. You can ignore my words and die, or you can heed them and let me do my job." Hard eyes met jaded twin amber orbs.
Sideswipe stared a moment longer, then nodded. "Do as you like, Sunstreaker." He turned and left for his quarters, ignoring his brother, once his best friend and the healer entirely. Left standing before the golden prince and growing increasingly uneasy by the moment Ratchet held himself still as hard amber eyes stared as if seeing through his very flesh to his soul within. Finally, Sunstreaker reached up to the black wig adorning his head and tugged at a single braid.
"When we were born the priest Mirage foretold of a hare of ivory and carnelian to save us from this curse. Great Pharaoh in his eternal wisdom ordered a hare carved for each of us on the eve before our birth every year since. Never has a talisman halted this curse." Sunstreaker looked to his hand as he dropped an item from his lethally sharp claws to the ground below. "We will not survive another worthless idol ordered to save us by Pharaoh's feeble command."
Ratchet watched Sunstreaker warily until the prince followed his brother from the room. When the regal figure had vanished from the hall Ratchet finally looked down to where the item Sunstreaker had dropped lay. There, lying upon his discarded kilt was a small talisman, a hare of carnelian and white. White shoulders, thighs, chest and head, red paws, hind legs and hips. The trinket was old, worn with the worrying of a little hand begging salvation from a mere trinket.
"So, some priest prophecies something like me and now I'm supposed to destroy a priest with ill magics. Great." Ratchet sighed and once more wrapped his kilt around his hips, hiding their carnelian hue. Undaunted by the many guards surrounding him or the vile appearance of Ironhide Ratchet turned towards the exit doors. "How do I request an audience with the Queen?"
"You don't, she summons you." A priest in long robes pushed through the doors. Crimson head of the osprey looked with golden, cunning eyes at Ratchet. "I am Mirage, you are to follow me to the seat of the Great Queen."
... to be continued.
Chapter: 1: 2: 3: 4 and at 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.
Words of Weneu
Perceptor dreamed. He could smell the hot sun on the golden grass outside the home he had been born in. The rich flavor of sea filled the air. A shuttle danced across the loom, humming in his father's tongue lilted across the breeze. The humming approached, the scent of wildflowers and ripe olives filled his nose. He smiled, and knew his beloved mother was bending over him.
Soft hands gathered him close to her soft breast, the shush of fabric against his fur comforted him. She was beautiful and gentle, like the morning sea. With a contented sigh he nuzzled into her soft furred hand -
"You're not my mother!" He fell from the soft lap that cradled him and scurried backwards, paws skittering across the polished stone floor. Eyes wide, he stared at the terrifying image of the towering pink jackal-queen seated on a rush bed.
"I am Great Queen Elita. You now are one of my sons, to stand by my side until the slave-priest Ratchet completes his miracle, or you grow into a warrior of Egypt."
"No!" Perceptor shook his head, eyes wide with fear. He remembered his uncle's voice from the shores of Crete sounding as a prophecy of Apollo telling him he would be forced to learn the art of war before his twelfth year. Now, those words were to come true in the form of this warrior queen staring through his flesh to the soul within.
"The slave-priest has left you no option." She spoke calmly, "Now, my son, come." She stood and strode to the door. Her shoulders were proud and strong. Long arms lean with muscle rippled with her movements. The pink fur adorning her flesh was healthy and shiny, yet laced with battle scars no woman of Hellas would ever proudly boast.
"If I do not?" He asked, afraid to follow, afraid not to. His words trembled, "What will you do to my father?"
"The white hare is slave to the forges. He is not mine to control, but my words could make his life less - difficult." Her words chilled him as did her one fierce amber eye staring over her shoulder at him. Perceptor had seen the slaves of the markets being whipped and tied in the hot sun to suffer. In each image it was his father to suffer and his uncle forced to use the lash across the sheltering broad shoulders to bring down such agony.
"I will follow, M-mother." Percy nearly choked on the word, forcing it from his lips like sucked venom from a snakebite. He felt ill, as if he had forsaken sweet Irnicleas, his own mother, with the vile word.
They traveled from the small room Percy had woken in, down a wide corridor, to a massive room built like a long hall. The walls were covered with baked clay decorations of strange black beetles, women made of stars and strange demigods of all descriptions mating like beasts. Perceptor averted his eyes, looking instead to the many sheer bowers that held beautiful women and the many young children that played around them.
"Sisters, meet my youngest son, Perceptor." Elita announced as she entered the harem and strode to a bower of purest white linen. She sat within, and bade with silent hands for her son to sit at her feet. Percy looked around once, smelled deeply of the incense that filled the massive room. The walls seemed to glow with memories of passions he was too young to understand and he shuddered. Finally, he sat at her feet and silently suffered as she deftly wove a black wig of ox hair over his head.
"Why do you braid cords into the hair?" Percy finally asked as she finished the first slender braids near his face.
"To hold the talismans prescribed to protect you. At sun's setting Priest Mirage will read of your future and know the evils to come for you." She spoke gently as she worked, her hands moving the false hair with experienced ease.
"When the curse is lifted, will I be allowed to go back to my father?" Percy asked softly, his heart trembling in the silence before the answer.
"Yes, you and your father will be released." Elita promised.
"But not Uncle Ratch." Percy spoke lowly, he understood that a healer priest was a rare find. All his life he had watched lords and kings attempt to win Ratchet to their palaces with promises of jewels and gold or threats of violence. Until now none had succeeded. None had thought to use his family against Ratchet.
"That is not up to me." Elita spoke. "Ratchet is for my sons, they will decide if he is to go free, if their curse is lifted."
"It will be." Percy replied, his young voice filled with a faith and devotion unshakable even by the force of the gods. "Uncle Ratch brought me to life, he will never fail."
Ratchet moved through the silent halls behind the massive human guard that served as his guide. After receiving his ear band back the guard had refused to utter another word. They had moved through the main palace, beyond massive doors and through several smaller buildings each resplendent with highly polished stone floors and painted motifs decorating the ceilings and walls.
"Halt," The guard murmured as Ratchet looked up to a massive set of burnished wooden doors set into the stone of the next building. They stood in the sweltering heat of the late afternoon. Surrounding buildings hid the massive river from their eyes but not the scent of the waters or the stench of the men and beasts that lived at its banks. Calls of fishermen and herders filled the air. Overhead birds took wing and temporarily darkened the deepening skies.
Without a knock upon the doors or any notice of their arrival a servant peeked from between the massive doors, opening them wide when he saw the white hare standing in the sun as a resplendent glowing figure of light.
"The slave-priest has arrived!" The servant bellowed into the building summoning more servants and their prince lords to the main room.
Ratchet stepped inside with a glower at the servant and stepped towards the twin princes before him. The princes were tall, one yellow, one red. Both had the same rich fur as their queen mother, both had the strong muscles and piercing eyes of their lord Pharaoh.
As Ratchet stepped into their view the princes had to keep their breath from catching. The slave wore only a sheer kilt about his broad red hips. A long woven loincloth the only thing between his manhood and their eyes. Long white ears reached to the sky bound together by a single jade adornment. Brilliant eyes the color of amber reflected glimmers of gold and garnet flame. Dark brows the shade of the storm cloud before the floods shaded his brilliant eyes. Long white arms bore hands of carnelian red, his body an equally shimmering white led to long, lean legs ending in massive hind paws with lethal claws stained carnelian red from his hocks down.
The slave was a walking idol. Sunstreaker's claws twitched ever so slightly. His fingers itching to discard the sheer kilt and ascertain if the same carnelian red stained the veiled hips. Beside him Sideswipe stared, long pointed ears swiveling backwards as he warred with himself.
The twins wanted to snarl at the creature before them. The adornments of ivory and carnelian had never saved them from their curse before. They yearned to rip the living hare before them into shreds and refuse the offering from the gods to their salvation. Yet at the same time, how could they? If they refused this living gift they sentenced themselves to death in less than a year. The season of flooding was almost done, only two seasons more then they would be eighteen - and dead.
"The Great Wife Elita bids me heal you of your curse." Ratchet spat, his eyes glaring furiously at the princes before him. "I must know of your afflictions, and of your souls to best know how to lift this evil."
Sunstreaker glowered at the slave's tone, lips curling up in a sneer. His eyes lit from within as his blood rushed with fury. "Know your place, slave. We are princes of Egypt, warriors of the Two Kingdoms and -"
Ratchet snorted as the princeling prattled on, instead of listening to the bragging whelp he discarded his ear band and kilt, disregarding his nudity and launched himself at the golden prince. The twins, mute as they watched the kilt fall to the ground in a pool of alabaster against the brown floor, failed to notice Ratchet's approach.
Carnelian red hind paws kicked into Sunstreaker's stomach, knocking the unprepared prince to the ground. Sideswipe could only look in time to see his brother fall before white ears blocked his view and a strong hind paw knocked his feet out from under him.
"I am a healer! I can best my brother in grappling. I have traveled the world and healed the greatest kings and chieftains in foreign lands. I am a free man of Hellas, and I bow to no one." Ratchet snarled as Sideswipe hit the ground and dogded Sunstreaker's attempt to grab him. He danced around the brothers his smaller frame and bulky shoulders dodging the failed attempts to grab him time and time again.
"Quit - running - and - fight!" Sunstreaker finally snarled.
"This is not your battlefield whelp-ling. There are no weapons to hurl at an enemy, no chariot to carry you to the opposing ranks before they can launch their arrows. You have only your legs, your feet and your breath nothing else will save you."
"Huh, I've never seen a man of Hellas wrestle a'fore." A deep gravelly voice rumbled through the anteroom. Ratuchet spun, for an instant his back to the brothers and suddenly he was pinned by four strong arms pressing him into the cool polished floor.
"Is this how the sons of Egypt win their wars?" Ratchet snarled, "You use old men to distract your opponent and take him when his back is turned."
"No," Sideswipe rumbled into Ratchet's ear his long fangs barely grazing the stiff edge, "in combat you would have been dead the moment you stepped into the hall."
"Release him." The deep voice commanded with a snarl, instantly the princes stood and stepped back.
"I'm Ironhide, chief trainer of these Set-spawned whelps. You've some skills, skills Egypt has long forgotten. I could use your abilities to better get these two battle field ready for their next rotation come planting season."
Ratchet stared down the strange faced demi-god before him, his flesh crawling at the sight. The creature was mud red, fangs thick and yellowed showed from his strangely formed maw. "I have been captured, drug across the sea, forced to make myself a target to keep my brother and nephew safe from our captors. I have been beaten, starved, lashed, chained and nearly sold. I have been covered in muck, buried in sand, doused with magically floating river water, and transported through a portal of ill magic. My brother is missing, my nephew claimed by a foreign queen as her son and now I am to be a present to whelps and told to train them in grappling when they will not even allow me to look at them to see the nature of their curse.
"You are their master, you train them. They can perish to this curse I care not. Let them be taken by this omen and the black serpents that writhe within them. Let them be eaten from the insides out and left as piles of meat for maggots."
"And what of your brother?" Sunstreaker asked lowly a faint smile twisting his long black lips sinisterly.
"He'll have his master panting at his hocks by sunset. I fear not for him." Ratchet snorted.
Ironhide chuckled, "Does he pass your test, my lords?"
"He does." Sideswipe replied instantly.
"If this was planned then I am the daughter of great-fanged Ladon hiding in your Nile." Ratchet grated flatly.
"Ladon?" Sunstreaker looked to Sideswipe, the pair shrugged in unison and Ironhide could only look askance of the hare.
"The god who bears the semblance of your guards." Ratchet pointed to several scaly headed warriors lining the halls.
"They are sons of Sobek, military guards and guardians against the Nile." Ironhide replied.
"So they are not of never-sleeping Ladon, guardian of the golden apples." Ratchet looked once more over the guards standing inside and finally noticed that one and all had swords, spears and bows at the ready - most aimed at him. He gulped, eyes wide and the grappling fury that had filled his breast fading as the swiftly melting mountain snow in spring to be replaced with the terror of how close to death he stood.
"Good, yer not completely brainless." Ironhide chuckled. "These two were ordered to not carry arms this day, and it is good - else you'd be gutted the instant you attacked the princes."
"And my punishment?" Ratchet demanded, he knew now that the princes either carried arms or were guarded or both. He would never have the chance to attack them again.
"Your punishment, is for the twins to determine - after they submit to your inspection." Ironhide smirked with his hideous mouth and turned from the slave-priest to stand before the massive entry door blocking all entrance or exit.
Resigned and with a hint of trepidation filling his heart Ratchet looked to the princes. "Just hold still." He rumbled, massive ears stately and tall as he stiffened, his whole body tensing as his eyes began to glow. The small specks of gold and red filling his amber eyes seemed to jump and dance like sparks flying from a forge. The twins were mesmerized, their eyes riveted to the dancing flames held within the healer's eyes.
Ratchet looked through the twins and into the core of their bodies. Within each brother a serpent of deepest shadow writhed through their guts. The shadow consuming the brothers was a curse, wicked and heavy set before their births. Hooks of the fisherman barbed through their internal flesh pinning the curse deep within. Neither of metal nor bone the hooks were barbs of darkness created to anchor the shadow serpents to the hearts of the twins.
Ratchet blinked, letting the stinging pain in his eyes ebb behind his lids. "The curse can only be lifted by killing the dark priest that set it." He pinched the short, stubby furred bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb pads with a tired sigh. "If I am allowed herbs and access to an observatory I will search for tho one who cursed you and seek its source."
"What of the Great Queen?" Sideswipe demanded, eyes hard and mistrusting despite the highly perked cant to his ears.
"Her curse was placed after your conception, before your birth. I will need to look into her." Ratchet finally ceased to massage his brow and looked to the twins, and their disturbed looking master. "What is it?"
"How can we know you speak the truth?" Sunstreaker demanded, eyes slitted dangerously.
Ratchet huffed a tired sigh, his head aching from using his god-sight once too often this day. "You do not. You can ignore my words and die, or you can heed them and let me do my job." Hard eyes met jaded twin amber orbs.
Sideswipe stared a moment longer, then nodded. "Do as you like, Sunstreaker." He turned and left for his quarters, ignoring his brother, once his best friend and the healer entirely. Left standing before the golden prince and growing increasingly uneasy by the moment Ratchet held himself still as hard amber eyes stared as if seeing through his very flesh to his soul within. Finally, Sunstreaker reached up to the black wig adorning his head and tugged at a single braid.
"When we were born the priest Mirage foretold of a hare of ivory and carnelian to save us from this curse. Great Pharaoh in his eternal wisdom ordered a hare carved for each of us on the eve before our birth every year since. Never has a talisman halted this curse." Sunstreaker looked to his hand as he dropped an item from his lethally sharp claws to the ground below. "We will not survive another worthless idol ordered to save us by Pharaoh's feeble command."
Ratchet watched Sunstreaker warily until the prince followed his brother from the room. When the regal figure had vanished from the hall Ratchet finally looked down to where the item Sunstreaker had dropped lay. There, lying upon his discarded kilt was a small talisman, a hare of carnelian and white. White shoulders, thighs, chest and head, red paws, hind legs and hips. The trinket was old, worn with the worrying of a little hand begging salvation from a mere trinket.
"So, some priest prophecies something like me and now I'm supposed to destroy a priest with ill magics. Great." Ratchet sighed and once more wrapped his kilt around his hips, hiding their carnelian hue. Undaunted by the many guards surrounding him or the vile appearance of Ironhide Ratchet turned towards the exit doors. "How do I request an audience with the Queen?"
"You don't, she summons you." A priest in long robes pushed through the doors. Crimson head of the osprey looked with golden, cunning eyes at Ratchet. "I am Mirage, you are to follow me to the seat of the Great Queen."
... to be continued.
Chapter: 1: 2: 3: 4 and at FF.net