The dreaded moment had arrived.

His consciousness fought its way up from depths as unfathomable as those below the seas the faraway ancestors of his people once sailed.

He tried to go back, tried to fall asleep again—but it was no good. The dark ones had promised him exquisite pain, until the last spark of his personality fizzled out. Physical discomfort was not what he feared. Pain had been his companion for a long time.

It was his failure that hurt. It had all been for naught.

Nothing stopped those lunatics, they continued their evil. Their numbers kept  swelling as others came to huddle in their shadow. When the Holy Council decided with Pharaoh to shift Kemet into the other world, during those months when the pylon was built—all this time the dark ones continued their burrowing.

If he believed the Lector Priests, there would be neither dark ones nor demons in the mirror world. Experience told him, though, not to believe everything they said.

And it appeared the dark ones were winning. They had captured him, dragged him along when they went forth to destroy the Device of Life. Pharaoh and the Guardians followed on their heels, and the dark priests feared them much. But they reached that hall first and he had to watch as they went into a frenzy of destruction.

When the bearers of the light exploded through the access in the ceiling, the dark priests threw him into the vessel that was to absorb the energy from the shift. There were many dark ones, with great powers. He had not harboured much hope for the light to prevail. And even if Pharaoh's warriors vanquished evil, how would they tell him apart from those criminals?

Should the forces of the light have won, they would go through the portal soon. That would be the end of him. Unless the device had been destroyed. Should he hope for that? How could he?

It all was too much. Any moment now. He waited.

Nothing happened. Instead, he realised he was breathing.

He could not do so before. Things had changed.

He opened his eyes. The next moment he wished he had not done so. There was no point, and if somebody watched him, they would see he was alive. Or was he?

He concentrated and noticed the Lady Nut stretching across the heavens among little five-pointed stars. A frieze ran around the ceiling, and he saw images of the gods on the walls.

A tomb then.

Had the warriors taken him out and laid him to rest after all? Was his ba—he dared not to harbour foolish hope, this happened too often. But if he had died and his body was still intact, his ba would not dissolve, the netherworld would be open to him.

No, this could not be right, for he was breathing. And hurting.

The afterlife was not supposed to be painful, but then the Lector Priests proclaimed a lot of things that hid the truth. People might not give donations if they found out they would hurt for eternity.

The hurt he could explain—but not the breathing. It made no sense at all. He tried to move and felt more pain. The dark ones stretched his arms and legs and beat him with a cudgel until something snapped; the memory made him wince. Still, he never told them about the others who plotted with him.

The air moved on his right and he sensed a presence beside him. He reached out with his ka and met an impenetrable wall. Only a senior priest posessed the skill to keep up such a strong mental barrier.

He winced and retreated.

Something appeared strange, though. He extended his ka again and mind-tapped at that rock hard presence. It did not remind him of anything or anybody he had ever met. A priest yes, but one who was too young to posess that much sun-flow. That bubbling golden power was barely contained, unstable. Better not to go there. He retreated again.

Who are you? The priest rammed into his thoughts.

A good question. The Lector Priests had admonished him many times; he was forever doing things he should not be doing. Or thinking. He ought to be grateful the gods granted him powers a commoner should not expect to enjoy. And the gods had welcomed him into their temples. But this never stopped him from being who he was and knowing what was right and what was not. So he fought for the Maat. And kept poking his common nose where it did not belong... .

Answer me.

He rallied his strength to project. I am Seisi, son of Thutra. I am a Pure One of Ra, may he shine on forever. Who are you?

You don't sound mad... .

Why did that priest slur his thoughts?

People had called him mad, more than once. His parents did so when he fought to be allowed into the House of Learning. The Seekers had found him but they had not been happy with their discovery. But father let him go and learn, instead of forcing him to continue in the pottery. His second brother took over instead. His family was truly proud of him. Had they known of his recent exploits they would more likely be horrified. But mad—no that he was not.

Maybe I should be, given the things I saw... .

Are you in pain?

This came from a second priest, no—a priestess, and he sensed the blue healing power of one who belonged to the Lord Thoth or the Lady Selket. Again something was not as it should be. He realised—this one did not even have the Blessing. How did the Seekers miss such a strong talent?

Yes, but I am used to it, Seisi projected.

That's bullshit.  

Something happened and eased his woes. 

Sorry, I can't do more. I'm still half knackered from this shit yesterday.

The healer woman too projected her thoughts in a truly garbled fashion. And she used unusual expressions. He did not know what a sorry was, and he did not understand why she had been with those who rendered the old animals. Sometimes those beasts shat themselves in fright. But it still made no sense. Was he being treated by a veterinarian? He had not sensed this particular blue. But her intention was kind, and her gift did him a world of good.

I thank you for your ministrations, he projected.

He would have to learn more about his strange place, so Seisi tried to sit up. He found it hard to do so and the Enlightened One helped him. At least he thought that young man to be a fourth-ranker, for a high priest he was not.

Somebody passed Seisi a broth which he drank gratefully even though it tasted of the waters that ran in the Nile. It refreshed his body and he stretched his mind to perceive who was in the chamber with him.

The healer was of a good size, slim—in most places—showing light skin with freckles on her arms and nose, shining hair of dark copper and deep blue eyes which regarded him with concern. She was like a ray of sunshine in the darkness. The man was of his people. He had the figure of a warrior and his Nile-brown eyes showed he was Blessed. Those eyes—

'I know your kind! But I never met you.' Seisi's voice came out with a croak, and he nearly choked on something tasting of peppermint.

'I am Metjen, son of Hassan. This is Trueth, daughter of...?'

'Asshole,' the healer said. 'Forget him. His involvement was short and has been a monk ever since. I'm Trueth Deveril.' She nodded at him.

Seisi found this even more bewildering. He was in a strange place indeed. But he knew both were nobles, despite their uneducated way of speaking. Otherwise the daughter of asshole would not have had a name for the high house she was born to.

Why she had claimed her father and not her mother as was the custom he did not understand. And what a name her father bore... .But the way she looked she came from foreign lands. There, they would do things differently. The other one had not stated his house, but he did not need to. He was a Prince of the house of Suka, and he looked like one.

At least as a holy man Seisi would not have to throw himself at their noble feet. Seisi tried to bow instead—and nearly fell off whatever he was sitting on. The Suka noble waved two of his long fingers, and he felt power flowing through his mind, his ka—his whole being. It was not polite. One did not do this even to underlings unless it was necessary. But he was a fellow priest, even if not a high-ranking one.

He coughed once more and addressed the nobleman. 'Why do you enter my mind like that?'

The healer noble grinned at him. 'Don't worry about Metjen, he does it all the time. He can't help it. He's just rude.'

The Suka boxed the other one on her arm which Seisi considered not to be a wise way of treating a woman. 'Be careful or I give you the spell of the day.'

He turned towards Seisi.'I wanted to be sure you're no dark priest, and your mind was a bit foggy to start with. I tell you one thing—I still don't trust you.'

Seisi inclined his head. This made sense. He would also not have been full of confidence, not under these circumstances. Especially as he did not know what a 'foggy' was. At least the golden intrusion left a morsel of strength behind so he could perceive more of his surroundings—and his strange companions.

The healer was dressed like a peasant. Even if the ill-fitting sheath dress she wore was proper for a priestess, she wore no sandals and nothing more than a small amulet with the head of Hathor around her neck. But she must otherwise wear different robes, her—throat—looked even milkier compared to the rest of what he could see of her magnificent body. Most likely she was industrious in her studies and stayed indoors all the time as they did in the temple of Selket.

But if she was one of Selket's, why did she wear an amulet of Hathor? And why did she wear a priestess's attire when she was not blessed?

The other one was attired in an even more outlandish fashion. Rumpled cloth of a make much too warm for the climate encased his legs. A thin short-sleeved top covered his upper torso. It bore illegible scribbles interspersed with skulls and bones—it gave Seisi the impression the demons had been all over the fabric. For sure, whatever this was, it did not resemble priestly garments.

Noticing another presence in the room, Seisi checked to his right. This one appeared to be a much older man, another priest, but this time clad in a long kilt worn with crisp precision. By his ornaments, Seisi could tell him for an initiate of the third grade serving the sun god.

The old priest was weary. Seisi did not blame him. But there was something else; something hiding under that calm exterior. Was it anger? Discontent? Jealousy? Seisi was wondering if he should enquire politely, as the braziers flickered. Yet another person entered, a priestess this time. She wore the horns and sun disk of the Lady Hathor on her head... .

'Iseret!' Icy shock caused his guts to cramp. Seisi would have soiled himself had she not intervened.

'Fear not, brave one. I am not who you think I am—or I shall better say I am this person no longer.'

'So is it true?' the old priest asked, but she ignored him and got closer to the braziers. In their flickering light, he noticed she was much more advanced in years than when they last had met.

Were even the Guardians under her thrall? He tried to shift backwards, but the night black stare he remembered only too well held him pinned.

'Pharaoh and the Guardians have overcome the dark priests. But they came too late. They left you behind... .' she fell silent and released him. Stillness descended, broken only by the crack of a coal in the brazier. 'In case you wonder—it was me who opened the door of your cell when they caught you the first time,' Iseret said.

Seisi shivered and the memory of that stinking dungeon came back.

'Don't spill the beans like that,' the healer intervened. 'He's still weak and you should've known he would go into shock when you pop up.'

Her words were truly extraordinary. Seisi saw no beans rolling around, had heard no popping. No priest should address a First Prophet the way the healer noble had just done. Especially not this prophet.

Iseret only smiled. It reminded him of a predator that had discovered where its sustenance would come from—but still, smile she did, and he had not seen the dark ones engage in any funning, ever.

'It is not my way of appearing that has shocked our friend. He beheld me before in circumstances different from this. He saw me when I still thought what I did was good.' She turned towards him, smiling no longer.

'Much has changed, too much for you to absorb at once. You must rest.' And the darkness again descended upon him.

===

Seisi is pronounced Say-see. Emphasis on the first syllable. If you enjoyed this chapter, please don't forget to vote and comment. This chapter is dedicated to @TomLichtenberg. I thought he might appreciate the change in voice XD. Tom has got a number of novels and short stories, which are witty, clever and very enjoyable. Try 'Renegade Robot', one of my favourites.