Word of the conflict reached Smenkhkare almost as soon as the noise of the onrushing battle. He tore from his tent and charged into the open. Outside, the two guards assigned to watch him lay dead and a flank of sympathetic warriors led by his compatriot Galil awaited him.
“What is happening?” Smenkhkare asked, as he was ushered round one of the many small disturbances raging all over the camp.
“Miriamne has returned and is leading an assault on the Tabernacle. It is our last chance to rescue the artefacts, my lord.” said Galil, as they ran at full tilt through the carnage. “We are beset on all sides by our enemies and have but a few thousand men. If we do not succeed quickly, we shall not succeed at all.”
Smenkhkare’s heart skipped a beat. Miriamne was not dead. “Who is with her?”
“Korach and the last of the Akkadian warriors who escaped the purges of Akhenaten, my lord. He is a strong and brave leader, well versed in the tactics of his enemy.”
As they came out from behind a row of tightly packed tents, a group of several guards loyal to Akhenaten met them. Instantly, their escort moved to engage the group, allowing Smenkhkare and Galil to continue unhindered. As they turned again, drifting around yet more bloody pockets of fighting, they spied the hulking Tabernacle.
“Did you bring what I asked?” said Smenkhkare, through tired lungs.
“I did indeed, my lord.” said Galil, handing over a small collection of jewellery and a knife. “It is all we could gather in the limited time we had.”
“You have done well, Galil. My brother possesses the artefacts, but he is a novice in understanding how they work. This should assist us in turning the tide.”
As Smenkhkare ducked between larger tents and entered the square in front of the Tabernacle, fighting was all he could see. He scanned the sea of faces, desperate to find his wife amongst the multitude.
After only a few moments, he found her. Miriamne and her forces were no more than fifty strides away, battling hard against the growing number of reinforcements streaming into the area. Yehoshua’s forces formed a circle to protect Akhenaten, who stood in the Tabernacle’s entrance. He was wielding the staff and the uraeus, indiscriminately using either on all who came close.
Smenkhkare dodged between outcrops of fighting, trying to get to the position Miriamne held in the centre of the battle. As he ran, an Akkadian almost double his size erupted in a brilliant orange glow. He twisted toward the blast and could see Akhenaten looking directly at him. He ducked low, trying to get out of sight, as another blast ripped apart a warrior in front of him. He instinctively tucked into a roll as he continued forward, crashing through the embers of the man. As he stood, another bright flash engulfed Galil and sent his flaring ashes spraying out over the crowds. With no time for remorse, he careered onward, crashing through the knife play of the men around him. Occasionally, another hapless combatant would explode in brilliant fury, as Akhenaten levelled off blast after blast.
Miriamne twisted from her fighting and glanced over at him with a smile that warmed his heart and quickened his step. They would defeat his brother together.
With no more than ten strides left to bridge, the ground began to rock underneath Smenkhkare’s feet. It started as a tremor, building to a crescendo that knocked people off their feet and flung others through the air.
Smenkhkare was trained in the balance disciplines required for display riding, but still found his footing unsure as the ground heaved and swayed. He frantically looked toward Miriamne, as a deep chasm opened in the ground between them. The sheer drop fell into eternity. Searing flames boiled out of the fissure, as men, unable to hold their balance, toppled into the massive pit. They flailed and screamed as they fell, their bodies incinerating. All around him, cracks began to appear, swallowing entire pockets of fighting. He looked back at Miriamne. For an instant, he fell into her distant gaze, his pain drifting away and the sounds of the on-going horror melting to nothingness. A deep feeling of understanding washed through him, as a fire of purpose descended like a wall across her eyes. He smiled, more out of pride than hope, as she turned and began to sprint toward the Tabernacle.
-
Miriamne was a skilled warrior and a trained acrobat. She glided toward the Tabernacle with an elegance befitting her short-lived status as Queen of Egypt. She bounded, gracefully leaping over the cracks in the ground and easily avoiding the attentions of those who attempted to prevent her progress.
Miriamne reached Yehoshua’s wall of men at a canter and sprung at the lead guard. She feinted to strike the man in the face, as she barrelled down. As his arm lifted in protection, it exposed his side. In an instant, she changed the angle of her attack, thrusting her knife sideways and plunging it deep into the man’s bowel, piercing one of his kidneys. Withdrawing the knife, she placed a foot against the man’s hip and somersaulted over him, as he collapsed behind her. She sidestepped the next guard’s clumsy attack, as she began to move forward again, dodging first left and then right, the guard faltering in his stride. She ducked low, twisting her body sideways, and rolling through the dirt, as another warrior flashed a sword above her. Another two guards charged and Yehoshua ran at full tilt, a brass-tipped spear held out in front of his body. She headed straight for the guards, stopping dead and dropping to the ground when almost on top of them. Yehoshua slammed through the gap and plunged his spear straight through the chest of one, as the other struggled to halt his momentum and clattered into his general, sending the two of them crashing to the ground. Righting herself, she could see Akhenaten just a few strides ahead. This was her chance. She leapt into the air, hurtling toward her father, deathly intent in her eyes.
-
Akhenaten watched as Miriamne approached, all his effort placed into continuing the onslaught he was driving from the uraeus. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the uraeus continued to fret against his consciousness. It itched at the edges of his thoughts as he utilised its abilities. Miriamne closed fast, guard after guard failing to stop her, and for a moment, his fear took his concentration away from the artefact.
The switch in focus gave the uraeus all the opening it needed. It deciphered the code of his language, erupting like a volcano in his mind.
Akhenaten froze, numb to the world around him as the uraeus delivered him its knowledge. In the blinking of an eye, it showed him his Gods. He saw the land of his ancestors, as if from above, the mountains on its borders capped with snows. The snows melted and a lush garden grew in its fertile valleys. His Gods arrived, building their towns and cities as their children played in verdant fields. The population grew, flourishing in the abundant lands they found. He heard their language, saw their writings, and listened to their music. Filled with amazement at the unfolding joys of their existence, he was horrified when the images began to sour. Without warning, the snow caps returned to the mountains. The crops in the fields began to spoil. The sea retreated from the shores, leaving the fragile civilisation’s fishing boats stranded and useless. It began to rain so hard the mountains themselves began to wash away. Landslides, like giant cascading downpours of death, rolled off the hillsides and destroyed farmlands and outposts. Food became scarce, the ground no longer capable of supporting crops. Still it rained. Eventually, the great cities, vulnerable by the sides of the overflowing rivers, became swamped and slowly eroded. He saw bodies floating in the waters. He saw mothers cry for lost children, as fathers desperately tried to save possessions. The last of the crops finally disappeared, as the downpour continued, the people evacuating their lands and deserting the remnants of their towns. He saw the elders, those known to him as the Elohim, gathering the Ark and the artefacts. They began construction on the Great Monument and the Great Protector, as the waters swirled around the plateau, codifying their knowledge in the intricate constructions, every angle, line, and alignment, a delicately proportioned attempt to capture their understanding of the stars. When it was nearing completion, he saw the Ark placed in the security of the storage chamber at its heart. When t
he final stone, the majestic Ben-Ben was placed atop the structure, the elders and the last of the people boarded twelve massive boats. As the waters rose, they were lifted to the shore, before dispersing to the four corners of the world. He saw the shattered land begin to dry and the desert encroach upon the once fertile valleys. Slowly, the waters at the coast returned and a less-advanced civilisation entered from the south. With a sudden chill, he realised the new civilisation was his own.
As its final gift, the uraeus taught him about the source of its power and about the Ark. With a foul indifference, he finally knew everything he needed.
-
Smenkhkare watched, as Miriamne flew through the air toward the vacant expression of her father, the knife she carried held high above her head in preparation for the strike. He watched as his brother’s hand, the one bearing the uraeus, twisted sideways with impossible speed. With horror, he saw a golden jet of light shoot from its tip and strike Miriamne in the chest. She yelled in pain, the energy contained bristling over her skin and grasping her motionless in the air.
“Not I think today, my daughter.” said Akhenaten, with unbridled joy. “For today I am as a God!”
The bolt continued out from Miriamne and began to zigzag its way between the surviving men in the plaza, friend or foe, each splaying out their limbs and howling with delicate agony.
“Today you all prepare your master for Godhood! Your sacrifices will be noted down for the generations!”
The bolt struck Smenkhkare in the chest and took the wind from him. It sent a wave of shock through his body, which removed all but the basest thoughts from his mind. He struggled, desperately trying to hold on to his failing consciousness, as he fought through the pain. He dragged the Havilah gold from his pocket and tried to move his hand to the shaft of fire that pierced his soul, the extremity seemingly weighing more than his body. A tear trickled down his cheek when he saw Miriamne. She was as good as dead, her skin cracked and lifeless. With horror, he saw his own skin was beginning to wither, as he gave one last effort and plunged the gold into the stream.
The explosion ripped through the congregation before the Tabernacle with almighty force. The shockwave blasted down the tents surrounding the plaza, flipping men through the air. The discharge rippled back to Akhenaten and tore the uraeus from his grasp, sending it scuttling down into the silt and flinging him backwards.
Smenkhkare slumped to his knees, his body broken and his flesh seared to within an instant of death. Around him lay the charred remains of thousands of men. Some still moaned lightly and yet more attempted to right themselves from where they lay. Yet, even through the pain and suffering that enveloped his world, he could only focus on one thing, Akhenaten.
Smenkhkare stared at his fallen brother, his hope finding a singularity of thought upon a lone prayer: Do not rise.
He slumped forward, as Yehoshua stood up and began to stumble over towards the prone form of his master, fear wracking his face. Holding on to the last fleeting embers of his existence, Smenkhkare’s mind filled with a deep hope his brother’s tyranny was finally over.
Chapter 46