Changing Lands
Chapter Changing Lands
About 180 BCE, Ancient Egypt
Roaring as the layer of rock that protected him while he healed, shattered and fell off his body like scales, Obion stretched. After the two-decades-long war to overcome the burning Devas trying to usurp the existing Devas' worship and killed more living beings than all previous wars in his memories of this land, Obion had let himself petrify and heal for three years. He hoped the conflict was over and there was still peace now, but he worried about the emptiness left behind by the destroyed Devas.
He noticed that his ruined Wesekh and Nemes had been replaced with new ones. He touched the Wesekh around his neck, then inclined his head. "My thanks."
Priestess Oracle Ahnahkt stood, holding a newborn wolfen child. "I am glad it fits... My brother and his mate spent two years crafting it and praying over it. The Priestesses of Hathor tanned the leather, and the Priests of Ptah and Udo made the plates in thanks for you saving their temples from the burning ones."
"I was only aiding the allies of your temples. Protecting them, protects you all from the madness consuming the Devas pushing the kingdoms into war and encouraging the slaughter and enslavement of the innocent." His hand rubbed over the metal plates, then he shrank to his much smaller mortal form and tightened the leather straps that held it.
"The Priests of the Serpent Ones sent word that they are leaving with stone skin Queen Udo and her clan to go to the far south. The armies of the Roman Empire have withdrawn to deal with rebellions in Judea and Samaria. War is everywhere in the physical and spiritual worlds. Only the gorgon queen Echidna and the siren queen Thalexpio of Neapolis remain on the shores of the Mare Nostrum."
"You use their names for places now?"
"All around the sea belong to the Romans and their deities; our old ones are withering."
Holding out the child to him, she said with a hint of sadness, "Congratulations, my lord protector Ouroboros, my brother's mate has returned your beloved's soul to you." Her eyes clouded with sadness and tears created lines of koal down her face. "His name is Amen-et-khons."
His annoyance at her use of the name Khons gave him faded. For over a dozen centuries, Obion had lived as the Pristess Idoferu warned, as a snake swallowing its tail. Living the same events over and over, waiting, hoping, loving, grieving. Holding the tiny child in his giant hands, he leaned down to confirm the sacred scent of the temple incense of Khons. His heart felt like it started beating again, but he knew when the Moon's oracles wept that only tragedy followed. "He lives... But you weep, why?"
"My lord Ouroboros, I have known since my first vision that his birth will be the beginning of the end of seven thousand years. Amen-et-khons' birth is the wolf's howl at dawn before this city falls, Khons and Wepwawet are fading, and Persians then Greeks and now Romans are in charge of the Upper Kingdom." Ahnahkt ran her fingers over the infant's black curls. "The pharaohs are only figureheads. In my visions, they are wearing clay masks and building temples of weak stone covered in cheap plaster. The days of our gods and great kingdoms are over."
He stood in silence wondering what he would do. Queen Udo and her clan were leaving the Upper Kingdom and in all his centuries dwelling here, he had never approached her or Queen Echidna for an egg. It was a three-year process that he did not want to wait through. He wondered how his sisters would greet him if he returned to the Western kingdoms without one from the Desert Queens. His shell-mate Nyxx would understand, but he worried that their half-sister Ino would scoff if he showed up with the refugees of a Deva's temple, and no offspring. His youngest sister felt all other species were beneath them and hated those who served the Devas.
He made himself ask, "How long do we have before they raze Lycopolis?"
"Two handfuls of decades and a few seasons, perhaps several decades less... but absolutely no more."
Her unusually blunt answer terrified him, but he vowed to save his beloved from the risk of dying young as he had so many times before. "I need to leave. I must travel to my sisters' territories far to the northwest. Perhaps I can get them to agree to give those under my protection sanctuary."
Moon Priestess Ahnahkt nodded then offered, "I will seek a vision. Not only from our gods but from the gods and goddesses of the northlands." She pressed a kiss onto the infant's head, then ordered, "Take him back to his parents at the Temple of the Wolves. Wait for me to send word before you leave... And Ouroboros, thank you for protecting our city for a thousand and half-thousand years." He was shocked when she bowed deeply to him before she retreated. He realized that his service to Khons was almost ended. In two decades, Amen-et-khons would begin to remember who they were to each other and then, Amen-et-khons would make his choice for what might be the last time. Rare tears fell onto the child he held.
Priest Menahkwet stood proudly when Ouroboros entered the lower level of the temple. After the previous temples of Wepwawet and Khons were destroyed two centuries earlier, those who lived and worshiped had built a grander, joint complex. The mingled scents of the incense of the two temples were his constant comfort while he waited between the lifetimes given to his beloved soul, a blessing and a bane mixed together. Now, it was ending.
"I am happy for you, night flyer."
"Thank you, old friend." Ouroboros reluctantly handed the child back to his father, a wolf priest and warrior he had personally trained from childhood.
"You look like my sister read you an unfortunate dream," Menahkwet observed after he returned the child to its mother for feeding. He pulled a cooled jar of bouza and a cooled jar of seeped tea out and led the temple protector up to the roof. "Talk to me."
"I may have to leave for four years or more," Ouroboros admitted.
"But Khonsu-et's soul has finally returned after four generations," Menahkwet sounded shocked.
"The temples will fall because the old Devas are weakened, and the city will be destroyed in your son's lifetime. I must find a place for those who live here beyond the reach of the Pharaohs and Romans. I will have to travel through the territories of three other clans to reach my sisters if I go through the lands conquered by the Romanis. If I go by sea, then it will only be one enemy clan unless I take the route through the desert to the west and then go north by sea it will take a few years."
"And you think there is a chance that by saving our bloodline in a far land that..." He didn't finish his question. He had always hoped to be the father whose son would carry the legendary warrior wolf's returning soul after his father and grandfather had explained the glory of their lineage.
"I do not know. Ahnahkt says Khons and Wepwawet are fading as is the nature of Devas. I do not know if the Wolf and Moon Devas of other lands will uphold this bargain." Ouroboros tried not to let his fear be heard but his friend was not fooled.
"So once Lycopolis is gone, the agreement would end." Menahket leaned on a column, tapping his chin with his knuckles. "We can only pray my sister will discern a solution. If you have to leave, you will miss his childhood."
"I know... I feel I do not have a choice if I am to save those I have protected for so long."He spread his wings and flew into the dark sky. Circling the temple city and then gliding into his wider patrol route. In the distance, he could make out the great cities. Flying closer, he noted the architecture of other lands mixes with those build by the pharaohs of previous generations. Things were changing and with change always came conflict.
Modern times...
One week after the Servants of the Moon left Lost Mine Pack near Las Vegas.
After her meeting with Delilah Ayala, Anjael glided to the small private airport at the base of Mount Mazama. The extinct volcano's collapse cone was a national park. Photographs of Crater Lake and Wizard Island were well known but what the vast majority of humans did not realize was that the whole thing was twice as large as it appeared and had been enchanted through the centuries to hide that it held one of the great temples of the Moon Deva of the Witches and Werewolves. She had bathed in the lake after her flirtation with the handsome Shogunate Wolf who protected the Delphi Oracle of the Moon. Her inner demoness had a thing for dark wolves, but she did not indulge in more than teasing, a kiss which was not returned, and a few flirty caresses. Beast was waiting at Lost Mine. Abel's wolf held her in mate-like affection while the human side hated her to the core of his being. She knew it was survivor's guilt. Abel had survived the slaughter of his pack, been forced to kill many himself, and watched his mate brutalized to death. It was something not many would ever recover from. He sought death but his debt for his pack's rescue force Abel to stay alive.
Lazarus... I must remember to call him Lazarus now, her thoughts reminded. She landed, shrank and walked onto her plane. "Take us back to Vegas." Sitting down, she looked back through the memories of Delilah Ayala.
Nearly an hour later, she looked up at her fellow daywalker. "Dart, we need to get all the deed for Crest Mesa and Ky'awe Yachunne pack lands switched to Western Queen Investments as soon as possible before those who killed them can seize our assets. Everyone we knew from them is dead in a way that their souls did not return to their Deva," she said as she accepted a plate of fresh salad and with a mound of quinoa and tomatoes from him.
"How is that possible?" The tanned male demanded in shock.
"The Delphi of this continent is trying to figure it out, but the wolves and vampires are facing an enemy that simply takes entire packs and covens with no trace. They simply leave, and leave everything behind," she took several bites. "It is exactly as the Servants told us."
Dart stretched out his legs as he drank a cup of espresso. "That is very unusual for lycani and vampyri. They are such sentimental species. Does she think it is witchcraft?"
"Yes. She has had visions of pale wicce burning censures of blood and bane to trap those they seek in their mortals." Her eyes flicked to him as he sat straighter.
A deep growl rumbled in his chest. "I'll go to Mexico and check the old temple. Don't tell your uncle. He'll drag that nuke he keeps in his hoard and stuff it into the volcano or bury it under the Snake Mother's Temple." They had learned at the end of World War Two than nuclear weapons could kill Devas. It was much faster than killing all their followers off, and convincing other Devas to trap them until they faded. It ended the last world war in three days.
"I won't tell him anything until we know for certain... After Nigel's death there, we thought we had lost his soul forever. At least, Ouro has him back again as Ethridge," Anjael agreed.
While Dart began working on his laptop, preparing to handle the legal documents for the deed transfers, she moved to put their dishes in the small cabinet in the back. She made a fresh cup of espresso for Dart and a glass of chilled fruit tea for herself, then carried a black and sweet Americano to Rick in the cockpit.
"Thanks... So how was your evening?" Rick asked as he sipped from the travel mug.
"Enlightening and disturbing," Anjael answered honestly. "After you've had some rest, I need you to take Dart to Michiacán-Guanajuato Volcanic Area. Guadalajara has the closest airport."
"What's in Mexico?"
"The temple-turned-tomb of an old enemy," Anjael replied as she looked out at the dawn on the horizon.
Turning his head toward her, Rick grinned as the history buff in him, demanded, "Tell me the real story."
"In the 1500s, a group of Conquistadors encountered a group who had twisted the beliefs of the Nahuatl into a true death cult. There had been a war between their younger Devas, particularly their moon and sun Devas which pulled in all their siblings on these continents. According to the myths, hundreds died." She rubbed her forehead. "Unlike the rest of the Aztec empire, these sun worshipers practice daily human and shifter sacrifices, insisting that a certain amount of blood be burned to allow the sun to rise every day. They also believed the souls of their high priest and his fellow priests and priestesses were passed from one generation to the next, claiming the souls would put on the skins of the young as their god had put on the skins of his brothers to gain their powers. They worshiped a Deva called Huitzilopochtli, a burning sun and war god. The worship of this Deva in the volcanic mountains was very different from the Huitzilopochtli sun god worship on the coast and plains. The monk who made the original observations had only escaped and survived because he was a vampire. He spent days observing the worship and practices of the cult before fleeing into the jungle. He escaped back to the Holy Roman Church and documented an empire that burned the hearts and blood of their victims."
"Sounds horrific," Rick shuddered.
"It was. The fire witches who acted as priests and priestesses killed all the shifters for hundreds of miles. The jaguar-shifters and human followers of their moon deva, Coyolxauhqui, retreated to the south. The northern indigenous human, wicce, and shifter tribes developed the myth of the skinwalkers from the actions of this second Huitzilopochtli Deva's servants. The Diné or Navajo still call them the Anasazi, or evil ones." In her memories, she could still see the giant mounds of insect and maggot-covered bodies. It was the reason the warriors of Britania and Spain had joined forces with the indigenous tribes to overcome the cult.
"King Montezuma of the eastern Aztecs begged the Conquistadors and Spaniards' Queen Isabella for help to end the threat before the entire kingdom was slain, claiming the evil ones had stolen the name of their god for their death cult after the war of the gods. We never figured out who had the name first or if the Deva had killed another Deva with the name and put on his skin as the legends claim. It didn't matter, the senseless deaths had to be stopped before the Nahuatl and Mayan people became extinct. But sadly, some humans were influenced by it as it faded, and became insanely greedy for treasure like gold, silver, and raw gemstones. They used the same name of the two Devas to justify genocide and spread the lies that the entire Nahuatl nation practiced daily blood and fire sacrifices."
'To the conquerors go the spoils of war, and the history written." Rick adjusted a knob as he spoke. "What happened next?"
"Ouro got me on a boat and we sailed back to Spain to beg Isabella to stop killing the Nahuatl and Mayan peoples, but she only cared about the wealth returning to Spain. Hundreds of thousands died in a few decades. So many that the entire populations of most Caribbean islands were replaced with slaves purchased from the Barbary pirates."
She closed her eyes against the memories of those horrific months on ships and her constant fear of being thrown overboard again and how futile it all was. "The Holy Church did nothing to stop it because of the wealth shared by Isabella. By the end of the first year back, I realized Pope Leo only cared about fighting the rise of Protestantism. He died and it was two years before Clement became pope. He sent his bishops to us and demanded we help purge all the colonies if the indigenous people refused to convert to Catholicism and help them exile Martin Luther's followers. When I refused, they tried to force me to join the Romani Cruor Clan outside Naples as a breeder for Queen Thalexpio in exchange for using her clan in the conflict."
"So they were just going to make you a slave?" Rick sounded disbelieving.
"Yes, and it wasn't the first time the Romani Clan tried to do that to me. Ouro, Dart, and I escaped to France, then Dart suggested we flee Europe permanently so I would be safe. We left for the colonies with some of our surviving werewolf and wicce allies from Britania. The witch and wolf hunts had begun. Religious and Royal conflicts were overtaking every land. Wars were breaking out all over the world as European countries engaged in empire building and colonization. They went so many places and took the wealth of so many people by force in the name of god and country. Humanity was no longer a common trait. It was a terrible time to be alive." Anjael fell silent.
As they were approaching Nevada airspace, Rick asked, "Besides World War two, did... did you ever go back?"
"I didn't, but Ouro and Dart went back in the 1760s to help save the rest of King Lycaon and Arthos lineage because of the Beast of Gérduvan and the abuses heaped on the French Lycani packs due to that vampyri-wolf hybrid. The descendants of my friends were in trouble, and I couldn't make myself get on a boat to go save them." Anjael admitted, sounding defeated, "I was such a coward."
"My queen, you are the bravest woman I know," Rick chastised her. "Don't say such things about yourself. Some kinds of PTSD cannot be overcome. No matter how much we want to recover." Rick squeezed her arm and then in a teasing tone, "Can you fly for a few minutes? I need to make room for more coffee."
His cavalier grin and easy manner made her laugh as she nodded, and turned in the copilot's seat. The autopilot was engaged but since his own trauma, Rick never trusted it.
Well, we are back for the last half of NoMo NaNo. Let's see how much we can get done. I really need to finish writing this and start editing Servants of the Moon so I can get them printed.
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