by Leena Maria
And there we lived with my kind, even though I found it hard to believe we were similar. I was the only one without color.
I loved the caves. There was no need for me to shelter myself from the sun here. And at night I could climb on top of the rocks and sit under my stars. I heard the song of the night easily here, in the total silence of the desert. Only storm winds could stop me from hearing the music of the stars.
During the days the lake drew me to it. At first Mut-Bity had been worried I would drown, but Seth promised he would teach me to swim. And he did.
The water was warm, and when we swam in it, we left a darker trail in the illuminating liquid.
I felt the water had an intelligence of its own. If I sat alone there, I could almost hear the water speak to me. Not in words, but in its own vibrating song. It resonated within me. Just like the song of the stars did.
Seth waited patiently for an answer.
"Yes, I do miss them," I said.
I was nine now, and three years had passed since Mut-Bity had brought me to safety. We received news of the outside world regularly, and we had heard that the great king Amenhotep Neb-Maat-Re was arranging his sed-jubilee to celebrate his thirtieth year on the throne. He had been building temples around his country for ten years now, to celebrate this occasion. It would be a great jubilation.
I often wondered whether my mother and sister were involved in the celebrations. Probably, as they were living with the king's Great Royal Wife, Tiye.
"What are their names? You have never told me them," Seth asked. "What is your sister's name?"
"Meryt-Neith," I said, "for she has a great temper and has even beaten the boys when they tried to steal her toys."
"Neith, goddess of war," Seith smiled, "she must have been a fierce child indeed to gain such a name. Beloved of Neith. Is she older or younger than you?"
"Same age. We were born twins."
"How interesting. They say twins are forever connected. If one dies, the other one will carry them along in their mind for ever."
That sounded strange. How could anyone carry someone in their mind?
"And your mother? What is her name?"
I lowered myself in the water, and turned to float on my back. Seth followed me, and for a while we floated together in silence. The water was so saline it held us afloat with little effort.
I felt the familiar buzz in my back. The water caused this to happen. It felt ticklish, and I giggled.
"Shall we?" Seth smiled at me.
"Yes, let's."
We spread our wings and floated as if on a raft, hand in hand. The silver specks in the water gathered around us like tiny insects, only they did not bite. They covered our wings, and hummed, and our wings answered them back.
"It is as if our wings were made of this water," I said to Seth, "the way the wings and the water sing to each other, they sound just the same."
"Hmm..." Seth floated in the warm water, eyes closed, his long hair spread around his face.
My colourless strands of hair were similarly spread on the surface. Silver specks gave them a greyish color as long as I stayed here, enjoying the total safety, warmth and friendliness of the water.
I knew Seth had not forgotten his question, and he knew neither had I. I wondered why I never had told him their names. He knew I had a mother, and a sister, but no father.
I sighed, and the cave softly echoed my voice, and the silver particles caressed my wings.
I looked at my wings, all relaxed, and open in the water. Seth's golden wings looked like electrum now, a mixture of gold and silver. His wings formed a clear half circle under him.
Mine were different, though. They were red in color, with silver pulsing in their veins, and they were in three parts, not one like Seth's. They made me remember the wings of the queen bee the yellow-eyed man had killed. My wings were of a rare kind, I had been told. Also it seemed I had got my wings very young. It had something to do with the water, I was certain. I felt proud of my beautiful red wings.
But it did not make me wonder why my wings were different. Not really. People had different skin colors, and came in different shapes and sizes, and so we had different wing colors, and our wings were formed differently.
We kept on floating, and the current slowly took us along the length of the water. I watched the strange illuminated drawings on the cave walls. They had always been there, I was told. Just like the lake. There were pictures of tall people, of swimmers, and markings I did not understand. It had to be some ancient language.
There was an island in the middle of the cave. The current took us near it, and lazily we turned around and swam ashore.
We sat there, dripping with water. The center of the island was flat as if tools had smoothed it. It was a nice place to sit, and the stone felt pleasantly cool under us. Soon we would need to leave, but not quite yet.
Seth turned his head at me and smiled. I smiled back. I trusted him.
"My mother's name is Merit," I said and he nodded.
"The beloved. A beautiful name."
We rose to our feet and he took my hand. Time to go, Mut-Bity would be searching for us by now.
#
Acknowledgements
I edited the story to the best of my abilities for eight months, and once the first edit was done I knew it was time to find a professional editor – someone who could find the mistakes I had made, and point out what needed ironing.
I found Miriam Bibby who had studied Egyptology at the University of Manchester just like me. I knew she had done editing before, and I knew that being a published author, she had an excellent command of English – I had read her Mistress Meg books and enjoyed them thoroughly (I do recommend them if you like stories of the Elizabethan age). I was lucky – she was busy but she agreed to edit my book.
The word schoolmarm comes to mind. She did not simply point out linguistic mistakes – she made me change the order of chapters, rewrite a lot, introduce some characters much earlier than I originally had, and made me write more chapters as a result. Her advice was straight to the point and made me see my story with totally different eyes. She did not let me go easy, and I am grateful for it.
Thank you, Miriam, I am in your debt.
Two people read the original story after my own editing and commented on it. Thank you, Sofia Lodi and Alex Fletcher-Jones. Your comments were appreciated and changes made accordingly. You made a very nervous first time writer believe the story was something people would want to read.
I am an artist myself, but I knew I could not do a professional looking cover for the book. I joined ALLi – the Alliance of Independent Authors – and on their Facebook forum I asked advice whom to contact. Cathy Helms of Avalon Graphics was recommended to me, and after spending a day on her website checking out the book covers she had designed, I wrote to her. I am most impressed at her professionalism, the speed with which she replied to all my emails – and the cover... Well, it speaks for itself. I love it. (The only problem was there were three wonderful options and I finally had to ask Miriam and my husband which to take. They both liked the same cover, so that's the one I chose.) Cathy is one of those people who worked in the corporate world, but quit it to follow her dream of graphic design. "Slow death" was the term she used of her previous job – I so know what that means... If you are a creative person at heart, any other job feels like a prison.
And then there is my darling husband. Not once did he protest when after a 9-5 job I sat all the evenings and weekends by the computer, typing and editing. He spent his weekend mornings getting up after six to read the pages I had written, encouraging me to write. When I lost track of time he reminded me there is such a thing as sleeping at night, and he made coffee for me in the mornings when I made my way to the kitchen half asleep, almost stumbling on the bags under my eyes. He massaged my shoulders when after hours of writing my posture resembled that of Quasimodo. He forced me off the computer and into the gym so I would keep fit, ignoring my mumbles ab
out lost time.
All I want to say to him is: I love you, you are the love of my life.
#
About the Author
Leena Maria is the pen name of Leena Pekkalainen. She holds the Certificate in Egyptology (2012) and Diploma in Egyptology (2014) from the University of Manchester. She is also an artist and has exhibited her Egyptological paintings in Tutankhamon's Golden Treasures replica-exhibition in Finland twice and her horse paintings have been exhibited in England and USA.
#
Copyright
Nephilim Quest 1
Shadowhunter
Copyright 2016 Leena Maria