Thirteen Years Later 2567 BC

Sabra held the torch in her hands, Ramses now thirteen followed behind her trekking the ragged perilous escarpment.

"Mother where are you taking me?"

Ever since Ramses could talk, he had called her mother. Three years ago the guilt had overwhelmed her, this honor should have been for Ismara not her, so she had told him that she wasn't really his mother. She knew he had been burning with curiosity and was plagued by a mixture of disbelief and anger, but he had kept himself composed and quiet and excused himself to the fields. He was very much like his father in that sense, King like in being able to reign his emotions. When he returned later that night, his swollen eyes the only indication of his feelings, he didn't ask about his true parents and he still called her mother.

"You will see." She told him.

The continued in silence. Sabra thought about these last thirteen years. She and Montu had been given a farm near the escarpment at Heq-At. They had tended to their cattle and tilled the land, living a simple life. Ramses knew no life other than this. In his own eyes, he was a peasant boy, insignificant, his life had been nothing but herding cattle and looking after the animals. He knew not that his blood ran with gold and silver. Nonetheless, both Sabra and Montu took it upon themselves to educate him as well as they could. Their combined force had taught him to read, write, do mathematics, speak several languages. They taught him the art of fighting, the art of warfare, history, geography. All the things that a king must know.

A first Ramses had complained, none of the other boys his age were subjected to these lessons. He didn't like being stuck inside poring over old manuscripts of dead men while the other boys played in the streets, in this way he could be like Ahkmenrah. But as he grew not only did his passion for knowledge also grow but he also understood the value of this education and how he could rise with its benefit. Little did he know he did not need to rise.

Ramses grew tall and strong like his father. He had Kahmunrah's sharp eyes, his smile and his calm composure. He had his mother's internal strength and exquisite beauty. He had Ahkmenrah's keen humor and gentle heart. He had his grandmother's quiet courage and his grandfather's steely sense of justice. He could fight like a demon and suggested the best battle tactics when they made small games out of warfare. Yet she often caught him daydreaming as he tended to cattle, as well as reciting poetry to himself, or telling the baby calves of the legends immortalized in the history of Egypt. A prince in both looks and heart.

Finally, she arrived at a crevice, unnoticed to the many eyes that may pass through this escarpment but big enough to let them through.

"What is this?" Asked Ramses.

Sabra didn't answer him, she merely slipped through the crevice and beckoned for him to follow. The amber of the torchlight bounced against the walls, the cavern was small and as they walked further, Ramses noticed a small stone slab laid out in the middle.

He peered closer, reading the hieroglyphs.

Here lie the bodies of Merenkahre the Third King of the Fourth Kings, his wife the Mistress of Country, the Jewel of the Nile and their sons Ahkmenrah and Kahmunrah the Fourth Kings of the Fourth Kings.

"You're joking Mother," he exclaimed. "Everyone says their bodies had been stolen...when did you find this?"

"I didn't find it Little One," she told him. "I made it. Come and help me move the slab."

He suppressed the urge to ask the questions that were brimming up within him and helped to move the slab. Inside was a rocky hole, jagged enough to provide good foothold and bearing for both descent and ascent.

"I will go down first." She told him. "When I am down I will signal for you to come down."

He waited silently as she descended. He didn't fear for her safety, she was twenty-nine, still strong and energetic, he had seen her climb walls so smooth that one could see their reflection on them. Even he couldn't climb such walls. His heart beat with anticipation, why could this be so important? What was down there other than the bodies?

He heard a thud. She must have landed.

"Ramses," called out Sabra. "You can come down now."

Carefully he made his way down, discovering the descent was easier than he had thought. Once he landed he turned to Sabra.

"What is all this about Mother?"

"Do you remember what I said about your parentage?"

"You didn't say much," he reminded her. "Only that you were not my true mother."

"It is time you learned who you truly are."

She turned around the torch in her hands following to reveal a large cavern. Except this one was not rocky and craggy like the last one, but rather had smooth walls and columns, painted with scenes, as if they were from legend. Sabra's heart was seized with emotions she had held in herself for thirteen years. She painted this tomb, she remembered every stroke.

The realization hadn't truly dawned on the young prince. He had considered that this was all an elaborate plot, yet Sabra would never lie to him.

"You don't mean..." he started.

"I do mean it," she affirmed. "You are Prince Ramses, son of King Kahmunrah and his wife Ismara, the true heir to the throne of Egypt."

For the first time in her life, she saw that Ramses was shocked. He was never shocked, or at least he never showed it, not even when he had seen a man's head chopped clean from his neck at a public execution.

"Go on." She said. "Look around."

Tentatively he stepped forward to the very first scene depicting the birth of Ahkmenrah while his father Kahmunrah, a mere toddler, placed a hand on the baby's forehead. The looked through scenes of their childhood.

Sun and moon. Sun and moon.

The words repeated themselves in Ramses head. They were so different yet inseparable. He kept walking forward, seeing the horse race that had destroyed a pyramid. Kahmunrah's promotion to head architect. He walked further.

The travel of the royal family across the Nile. The death of the King, then Ahkmenrah's coronation as King. He ran further, the light of the torch revealing more. The war against the Sumerians, Egypt's rebellion, the drought, the rain. He saw his uncle and father, the epitome of what warriors should be, fight valiantly against the warriors of Sumer. He saw Ahkmenrah's re-coronation, he saw the siege of Heq-At. Nitocris's marriage to Sabaf, Sabra's return home, and his father's death.

He had sacrificed his life.

He walked further drinking in the pictures. He saw his own birth. He studied his mother, his real mother, she was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he had seen. But she had died to give him life. He held in his emotions driving further forward.

He saw Ahkmenrah race the sun to gain his people's trust. He saw the marriage of Sabra and Ahkmenrah. He saw his uncle's death. He saw the funeral and his grandmother's death at the hands of their current Pharaoh Khufu. He saw himself again still a baby being stolen away.

He turned to the sarcophagi. There were only three.

"Where is my father's body?" He asked.

"His body was never found." Answered Sabra. "It perhaps lies at the bottom of the Nile."

"Why does the slab say he is here?"

"Because your uncle and your father werein inseperable. Ahkmenrah and Kahmunrah were one."

He walked forward towards them and noticed a gold tablet lying at the foot of Merenkahre's sarcophagi. The mere occurrence of looking at it filled him with a sense of power.

"What is that?"

"Montu calls it, the Tablet. He says it is a dangerous object that brought death and destruction to the family." She stared at it for a while. "It is to remain here. We mustn't disturb the treasures of the dead."

Ramses looked at the sarcophagi, then back up at the pictures of his family. His eyes rested on Khufu.

"I will avenge them." He promised aloud. "I will kill the Usurper Khufu and free Egypt from his cruelty."

I will make my father proud.

Sabra clasped his shoulder "You will do all that and so much more."

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This is part one of the epilogue. I hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned.

- Sargun