Chapter 1

Memphis, Egypt - 3127 B.C.E.

A hot dry wind blew in from the west, making an already scorching day all the more unbearable. Sand from the Sahara desert normally scoured everything in Memphis, but today it seemed almost malevolent. Nerata’ari had to shield her eyes with her gold colored shawl as she lowered a decrepit, but watertight, bucket into the Nile river. Even though she was now her temple’s Oracle for her Goddess Sekhmet, the youngest ever, she still preferred to do her own chores instead of ordering one of the lower priestesses to do them. Leadership, to her anyway, meant leading by example. She refused to act like the last Oracle, always laying around ordering the priestesses to do everything. It got to the point that she completely neglected her duties to the temple. She had even taken a lover, completely forsaking all her vows. Nerata’ari was convinced it was Sekhmet herself that killed her former Oracle out of rage at her behavior.

She filled a second bucket of water then began she slow and careful walk back to her temple.

Memphis was the capital, both politically and religiously, of Egypt. It boasted some of the most grand architecture in the world, each building constructed for a different pharaoh trying to outdo his predecessor, all the way back to Menes. She made it slowly through the crowd in front of the giant alabaster sphinx guarding the Hut-ka-Ptah, the largest temple in Memphis. It was dedicated to Ptah, the Lord of Eternity. His temple behind the sphinx was a tall building with sloped walls resembling a pyramid with it’s top half removed. It was made of white limestone and had numerous vertical openings in the walls to flood its inner chamber with light. The interior was dominated by a thirty foot tall statue of the God while the surrounding walls were covered with painted hieroglyphics depicting the deeds of Ptah. The story of how he created the earth, Nerata’ari’s favorite, took up one entire wall of the structure.

She continued her walk toward her temple, passing through the market in the center of the city. Vendors yelled at every passerby, trying to hawk their wares as best they could. Nerata’ari could smell all sorts wonderful aromas coming from food and spice sellers, overpowering the smells of all the sweaty bodies around her. At the far end of the market were scantily clad women selling their only possession in the world. Nerata’ari pitied them. She and the oracles before her had tried to recruit these girls out of this life. Some had joined, others not. The ones that had all told the same stories about brutal treatment. Being robbed and raped was an almost daily occurrence. The women that continued in that line of work only did so for one of two reasons, she feared a man, or thought she was beyond redemption.

The crowd was thicker than normal with everyone preparing for the upcoming festival. Sekhmet had once come close to destroying all of humanity, but was stopped by Ra, who dyed beer the color of blood, getting her incredibly drunk. Every year at the beginning of the year all of the city’s inhabitants celebrated by getting incredibly drunk. People thought they were celebrating their savior from her, and this was partly true. Sekhmet was a warrior Goddess who did nearly destroy all mankind. But what they don’t realize is that her wrath, while horrendous in the end, was first meant to protect humanity from the evil that had begun to insinuate itself throughout all civilizations. Sekhmet is the divine protector of humanity, dispensing her judgement upon the wicked. She was always associated with the color red, from the red sandstone walls of her temple, to the ankle length red dress Nerata’ari currently wore, representing the blood of her enemies; the enemies of mankind.

Nerata’ari no sooner arrived at the outer wall of her temple grounds before she was nearly bowled over by a group of street urchins. She smiled as a young boy ran past, at play with his friends. In another life she would have loved to be a mother, but she had taken a vow of celibacy in order to serve her Goddess. It was a steep price, but one she was willing to pay. She always had her nieces and nephew to dote over when she had free time.

The temple to Sekhmet wasn’t as tall as the Hut-ka-Ptah, but it had a much larger footprint. It had vertical walls made out of red sandstone mined from the hills Gebel el Ahmar. Its main interior chamber stood twenty feet tall, and was five times wider. Statues of the Goddess, one for every day of the year minus one, lined the walls of the temple. Two rows of vertical columns covered in hieroglyphics held up the roof. Unlike other temples that had sections of wall missing to allow light in, the ceiling was missing large sections, giving it a lattice pattern. There was one main statue cloistered in a sealed room at the far end of the temple. It stood fifteen feet tall and depicted the Goddess in her most sacred form, a tall woman with golden skin, full length red dress, and head of a lioness. In each hand she wielded a solid gold khopesh, a nasty weapon, the first half of which was a typical sword while the bottom half was curved like an axe blade, with a blunt tip used for bludgeoning enemies. No one was allowed in this room except for a few days a year in preparation for the festival.

Nerata’ari was bringing the water to that statue now in order to wash it. She made it about halfway down the temple when she heard a scream. She dropped the buckets and ran as fast as she could. Columns of stone and sunlight raced past her as she heard another scream, but from a man this time. She would have thought it odd if she had the time to think. Men weren’t allowed in the temple at all, even during the festival.

She reached the back of the temple and found the double doors to the main statue room partly open and smeared with blood. The bodies of two priestesses lay in the opening to the chamber. Another scream came from within but was cut short by a gurgling sound. Nerata’ari slowly crept towards the doors. She had no way of defending herself, but it was her duty as Oracle deal with the situation. She hesitantly looked around the edge of the door and gasped. Bodies of men and women lay strewn all over the room, blood coating nearly every surface. Crumpled up at the foot of the statue was a man, still choking on his own blood. Standing above him was an exact duplicate of the statue he was dying under. Nerata’ari was sure it was her Goddess in the flesh. With her red dress, golden hued skin, khopeshes dripping blood, and head of a lioness she could be no other than Sekhmet herself in human form.

Before Nerata’ari could react Sekhmet spun around, fixed her oracle in her gaze, and let out a roar so loud it shook the entire temple.

Nerata’ari threw herself onto the floor, kneeling with her face inches from it and her arms outstretched before her, she began to recite the first prayer that entered her mind.

“Rise” Sekhmet commanded. Her voice seemed to ring from every stone and every bit of dirt and dust in the temple. It even sounded to Nerata’ari that it came from within her own head.

The young Oracle stood up and looked upon her Goddess. Sekhmet slowly walked toward her, lowering her swords. She shook her head and it morphed from that of a lioness into a beautiful woman with jet black hair down to her waist. He skin lost most of its metallic shine and changed to a more natural looking bronze hue, similar to Nerata’ari’s own color. Nerata’ari bowed her head as low as it would go, fighting the temptation to throw herself on the floor again.

“Do not fear me” Sekhmet said, her voice resounding throughout the great hall, causing Nerata’ari to flinch. “I’m sorry” the Goddess apologized in a normal sounding voice, “I forgot how powerful my voice is to a mortal.” Sekhmet let out a sigh, “We’re both lucky you were out gathering water just now or these tomb robbers would have killed you as well.”

The Oracle looked up in shock at the idea that she was still alive out of sheer dumb luck.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe now” Sekhmet reassured her. She looked around at all the carnage that lay before her, the look of remorse spread across her face. “I’ve watched you and this temple from afar for a long time. I wish I had been watching closer.”

Nerata’ari looked around her. She had known some of these girls since she was a small child. They had all grown up together in the temple, priestesses in training. They were like sisters to her. She began to weep uncontrollably. A feeling of guilt washed over her, but it wasn’t the guilt of a criminal. She felt as though she should be lying dead next to her sisters. She didn’t deserve to live due to some mistake, some twist of fate. Rage soon began to well up inside her. None of these women deserved to die, and for what, some gold! She fought back the urge to grab a khopesh out of Sekhmet’s hand and hack all the dead robbers to pieces. She saw the futility in this and began to despair again. She couldn’t do anything to help her sisters and there was no one left to punish. Nerata’ari collapsed to her knees, looking around at the carnage, she felt completely helpless.

Sekhmet kneeled in front of her Oracle and embraced her for a long time, just letting her cry on her shoulder. They released each other after what seemed like hours, looking completely disheveled. They both spent the time crying into each other’s hair and neck, their dresses testifying to the tears they shed for their fallen loved ones.