Apocrypha Sequence:
DIVINITY
Shane Jiraiya Cummings
Copyright © Shane Jiraiya Cummings 2011.
ISBN: 9780987076847
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All characters in this book are fictitious.
No reference to any living person is intended.
* * *
CONTENTS
Introduction
Sobek's Tears
Virgin in the Mist
Memoirs of a Teenage Antichrist
Blasphemy on Eight Wheels
Genesis Six
* * *
Introduction
Welcome to the Apocrypha Sequence, a collection of themed stories outside the continuity of my 'regular' collections, Shards (flash fiction) and the forthcoming The Abandonment of Grace and Everything After (short stories and novellas). The stories in the Apocrypha Sequence lie somewhere in between. There is some overlap between the Apocrypha stories and those in my collections, but this is because I have cherry-picked stories from my body of work to suit the themes present within the Sequence. For each book in the Apocrypha Sequence, I chose a story or two from my collections, a couple of previously uncollected stories, and the odd original or two. Each volume in the Sequence is a remix. You might find a story from this volume elsewhere (by itself or in one of my collections), but its inclusion in the Apocrypha Sequence gives it a more appropriate context—and in some cases, demonstrates its place in a shared world of directly-linked stories.
Apocrypha Sequence: Divinity explores the fallibility of the gods. The realms of mythology and religion are often open to interpretation, and humanity's belief in wise, benevolent, and all-seeing deities is sorely put to the test in these stories. Imagine the story of Moses and the exodus of the Jews from the perspective of an Egyptian commander who has lost everything to the ten deadly plagues. With the gods themselves using humans as pawns, who can claim true righteousness? Can solace be obtained from a religious manifestation that appears only to mock? And in a world of shifting moral values, who is to say the Antichrist isn't just a decent guy dealing with his own issues? The gods are here, right now, and their goals may alarm you.
Read on and enjoy this volume, and if you crave more, please seek out the other three volumes that comprise the Apocrypha Sequence. Details about the rest of the Sequence and my other e-books can be found at the end of this volume.
— Shane Jiraiya Cummings
* * *
Sobek's Tears
"On that same night I will pass through Egypt and strike down every firstborn—both men and animals—and I will bring judgement on all the gods of Egypt. I am the Lord."
— Exodus 12:12
I suffered through the plagues of Moses's God. Boils scourged my skin. Locusts and frogs invaded my house and destroyed my fields. I drank unclean blood in my thirst while praying to the Gods for fresh water to return to the Nile. I have endured hail and darkness and the rotting of my animals.
All this I suffered in the service of my Pharaoh. Despite my suffering and the suffering of the people of Egypt, I obeyed Pharaoh and offered sacrifices to the Gods. Then Moses and his Hebrews took the last shreds of my life away.
That tragic night, his God ravaged my house and stole the life of my brother and father. My brother Tol-Ahnet was a captain of Pharaoh's army. Face down in his sleep he died, not knowing the chance to face the honourable death of a brave man. Father was old, a soldier in his first autumn of retirement—a retirement he had earned through blood and sacrifice. Many more seasons should have passed before their hearts were to be judged by the Gods.
The God of Moses was complete in his work. My young son, Annan, also died that night. His green eyes, which had once burned with life and laughter, were empty, abandoned by the light. His eyes were blessed by the Gods, the priests had once told me. The blessings of Ra and Horus and Thoth became dust to me as I watched his naked body taken for embalming.
The sight was too much for my beloved Netra. Heartbroken, mad with grief, she stole my dagger and plunged it through her breast.
Nothing was left to me but my grief and the sword in my hand.
I barely noticed the slaves leave the city, for my grief overpowered thought and sense. When the order came to ride with Pharaoh, to run the slaves down, that haze of grief narrowed into a ball of rage.
With vengeance in my heart, I rode out to butcher the murderers of my family and cast down their God.
#
"Not all the Gods had abandoned you, Makhet. I was watching." The words resonated from the murky waters beyond the shore, words filled with menace and reassurance.
"Yes. Yes you were." Makhet absently rubbed the mud from his shins.
"Misery is etched into your heart. Tell me all." A large midnight-black eye bobbed out of the water and stared at him as he continued his tale.
#
I was an officer of Pharaoh's rearguard and had ridden with him to many victories over the Libyans, the Canaanites, and the tribes of the sands. We charged in well-practiced formations after the Hebrews and cornered them on the banks of the Sea of Reeds. My heart rejoiced when I saw the vile, ragged mass of Moses' people. As Pharaoh led his army—thousands of chariots and bowmen—striking for the heart of the Hebrew encampment, my orders were to lead one of the last companies onto the battlefield.
Two hundred chariots I commanded, fierce and loyal men all. We were to crash into the foe as fresh reserves, to slaughter the last pockets of resistance. With blood and grief staining my heart, I yearned for butchering. My sword was eager for retribution from these heretics.
I thought my eyes betrayed me when the sea parted for Moses. In turn, I prayed to the true Gods for strength, to Set for savagery in battle, and to you to shield me in the shadow of those strange waters.
The God of Moses unleashed a ravaging storm and a wall of fire that held us at bay while the Hebrews escaped. Even these acts of sorcery could not stop us. As the wind and fire abated, we rushed across the sea bed in pursuit of the cowards.
My company was but half a league from the shore when the wall of water collapsed. Before the torrent struck, I heard the cries of thousands of doomed men. Water engulfed the shrieking horses strapped to the chariots. Man and animal alike were battered and pummelled by the seas and pulled down by the weight of the armour entombing their bodies.
Having cast my armour aside, I was carried off by the turbulence. For endless hours, I floated between life and death until I was washed ashore. Hundreds of bloated bodies, already turning blue, washed up beside me. I struggled through the mud on hands and knees, clambering over the corpses of once brave men, until I collapsed in exhaustion and despair.
The God of Moses denied those men the valour of dying in battle, as he had denied my family and every family in Egypt whose firstborn sons were stolen. Five-fold had I been cursed yet the Hebrew sorcery had failed, at last. I alone had survived.
It was the next morning, as I lay huddled in a muddy grove, surrounded by corpses, staring at the far-off fires of the slaves as they cooked and laughed and sang on the other shore, that I first met you.
#
"Of all those drowned men, you were the only one who prayed to me, Makhet."
Nodding, he said nothing.
"Did my appearance
frighten you?" The voice drifted from beneath the lapping water.
"Fear had fled my heart by then. The nightmare of Moses' sorcery left me nothing but sorrow and rage." He plucked dried mud from his fingernails.
"How do you remember our encounter, Makhet?"
He sighed, casting his thoughts back to that day and the ramifications that followed.
#
The crocodiles puzzled me. Dozens of great crocodiles, larger than any I had ever laid eyes upon, crawled up the bank. I lay there numb, drained of fear, ready for their jaws to drag me under and end my torment, my failure. That they did not touch the fallen Egyptians clogging the shore bewildered me. Staring at me with their blank eyes, not claiming my sorry life was even more bewildering.
All became clear when you appeared in their midst, immense in size and as pallid as the corpses of my drowned brothers-in-arms.
I beseeched you, great Sobek, Crocodile God, sentinel of dark waters, for my vengeance. I renounced the other Gods in your favour, supplicating you for the means to exact my retribution.
And you answered me. For my father, for Tol-Ahnet, for Netra, for little Annan, and for all the men of Egypt who died in the dark waters, you answered me.
#
"Those were my last tears, Makhet. No more will the crocodiles weep for the actions of Gods and men. Our hearts are as stone."
"No stonier than mine." Makhet opened a clawed hand. Inside his palm, already scaled and leathery, two pinpoints of brilliant silver glimmered.
"Egypt is waning." Sobek raised his pale, ridged head from the water to regard Makhet. "Like men, the fortunes of Gods rise and fall. The God followed by Moses knew this. His betrayal has scarred us both."
Standing on the river bank, covered in mud and dried gore, Makhet's eyes were as blank as the crocodile's.
"Tell me the fate of my tears. Tell me of your revenge," Sobek said.
Makhet clenched the remaining tears in his taloned fist, shut his eyes, and remembered.
#
Your tears sparkled like jewels as I plucked them from the water, dozens of rare and beautiful gems. I stuffed them into my pouch to keep them safe for my journey.
Your servants took me across the sea, landing me not far from the slave encampment. I bided my time, planning to hunt for food to gain strength before I fell on their camp. My fortunes departed with the crocodiles, as food and clean water were scarce. By the time I reached their camp, the Hebrews had gone.
It was not difficult to track them. They numbered in the hundreds of thousands. A vast host that scoured the land as it went. I could not kill them all, but I only sought the deaths of their leaders—in particular, Moses. For his crimes, I vowed to parade his head on the altar of his God.
My strength waned as I trailed their exodus. The Hebrews left nothing in their wake. Soon, maddened by sun and thirst, I drifted back to the shores of the Sea of Reeds. There, remembering your words on the power of your tears, I devoured two of them.
#
"You knew the consequences, even then," said Sobek.
"I cared not for the consequences. In time, I will be judged in the Underworld." He looked at the scaly skin on the back of his hands.
"That may not come to pass, disciple."
Makhet stood silent, perplexed by the cryptic Crocodile God, watching the sun ripple across the Nile.
"My tears invested strength into your human body. More than you had ever possessed," prompted Sobek.
"Yes," he whispered, losing himself in the ripples on the water.
#
I awoke that night, stronger and more refreshed than I had felt in a hundred moons. The power coursing through my body contrasted with the emptiness in my heart. I walked along the shore, shadowing the slaves. Soon I was running, running for hours without end.
As dawn approached, I arrived at a sand-blown oasis. Behind me, far off on the horizon, I beheld the sight of thousands of campfires. In my frenzy of haste, I had outpaced the slaves.
I tested the water knowing this oasis to be an ideal encampment for them. It was clean and invigorating. Drawing my fill of the water, I then cast another of your tears into the oasis, with a foul and ruinous desire. The tear was dazzling as it struck the water but soon dissolved. Moments later, I took another draught but spat it out. The water had become bitter and undrinkable.
As I bent over the pool, I caught sight of my reflection. No longer was my face my own. Skin that was once tanned and smooth was distorted into greenish leather. I knew, then, the power of your tears. In spite of my ugliness, my dead heart held no pity for myself.
I retreated nearby and waited for the Hebrews to arrive. A day passed before all the stragglers settled at the oasis.
Sneaking to the outskirts of their camp, I killed one of their outriders and claimed his robe. Disguised thus, I freely wandered amongst them, my rage seething with every step. Eventually, I found Moses and his advisers near the oasis. Much to my satisfaction, the people complained to him about the water and tore their hair in frustration. They named the oasis Marah, meaning 'bitter' in the tongue of the Hebrews.
Moses invoked his God and hurled something into the water. Soon, the people surged forward with their buckets and bowls, praising Moses and their Lord. It was then that I knew my plan had been undone.
#
"Yet you stand before me, covered in Hebrew blood," rumbled Sobek, tilting his immense head.
"Moses took everything from me," Makhet spat. "My vengeance had been delayed, but I remained undaunted."
#
Swallowing my wrath, I infiltrated their camp. Remaining on the outskirts, I travelled with them to the oasis of Elim. Every night, I stalked the dwellings of Moses and his henchman Aaron, but they were always zealously guarded. Watching them and listening to the campfire talk of the slaves, I came to understand more of the nature of the Hebrews. Your tears provided insight and clarity. Their hopes, fears, and deepest desires were as clear to me as fish in a shallow pool.
With the tears sustaining me, I grew quick, agile, and voracious. By day, I learned their secrets and how to survive amongst them. By night, I claimed a victim at a time, dragging them away and tearing them apart. A scourge was I in their midst, a black shadow sowing fear and reaping death. My sword, once my faithful defender, was unsuited to the savagery I craved.
I grew insatiable. Fed by revenge and bloodlust, I consumed more of your glistening tears. The more I devoured, the more I yearned to devour. For a time, the power of the tears and the taste of blood was all I knew.
#
"You acquired the hunting instincts of the crocodile, that is clear." Sobek dipped low in the water again.
The sun drew close to the horizon, lengthening the rays rippling across the river. Chirping insects started their dusk mantra, hidden amongst the reeds.
"It was inevitable." Makhet was still intent on the shining water.
"I sensed your kills—I savoured each of them. Rarely does the crocodile's reach extend into the barren desert."
Makhet stared beyond the river, watching the sun as it slowly ebbed from the afternoon sky.
#
I remained lost from myself for weeks, no better than a cunning predator. The Hebrews travelled further into the desert, eventually settling at Rephidim. My bloodlust peaked when the Amalekites attacked the encampment. Fighting like an animal, I cared not for tribe or bloodline, only prey.
The sun set on that day with the sands stained red and the Hebrews victorious. As night fell, I crawled among the dead and dying, eating without prejudice the corpses of men from both sides. I clambered over a sand dune, bloated on human flesh, as much a carrion eater as the vultures that had descended on the battlefield. I had become the creature that stands before you.
Seeing my blood-stained fingers in the moonlight, now iron-hard talons, covered in scales, I realised, then, that the justice I craved was slipping away—as remote at that moment as my humanity.
The next day, amid the aftermath of the
battle, I slipped back into the Hebrew camp. I curbed my animalistic ways and returned to studying my foe, travelling as close as I could without arousing suspicion. The temptation to slaughter was near-overpowering, but I kept it controlled. Justice for my family, for the sons of Egypt, was paramount. Soon enough, the camp moved on from Rephidim to Mount Sinai.
Moses' adopted father, Jethro, joined the Hebrews before we reached Mount Sinai. With him, he brought Zipporah, the wife of Moses, and their two sons, Gershom and Eliezer. For me, they were the final pieces of the puzzle. At last, I hatched the plan to exact my bloody vengeance.
I watched and waited, praying to you for the opportunity to strike true and avenge my family. With impatience threatening to drive me mad, I practised my craft by killing Hebrews under the cover of night. Many deaths marked the passage of days before my chance appeared.
Moses vanished up the mountain to commune with his God, remaining there for many nights. In his absence, the people grew restive and faithless. Strike the head from the serpent and its body writhes and twitches, just as these slaves did. They fell into anarchy and debauchery.
I claimed my chance while the people fornicated and drank themselves into a stupor. I picked off the few remaining guards around the tent of Moses. As a crocodile, I lurked, motionless in the shadows, close at hand to the young wife of Moses.
Not long after, Moses returned from the mountain. Furious at the idolatry and disobedience of his people, he gave no thought to his family as he set about punishing the slave tribes. Amid the chaos of that night, the jaws of my trap closed tight.
#
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