by L M Adams
I wish to tell her I’ve learned how to be a good man, that I try at least. That I’ve learned to walk with the axioms of our people:
“We respect and care for our elders… for they are our past.”
“We respect and care for our young… for they are our future.”
“We respect and care for one another… for we are our present.”
I wish to tell her that I have been a dutiful son, I wish to know if she would be proud of the young lion. I wish so many things, things I do not understand how to feel or how to say all the wishes I have.
“Can I do anything to help?” The Wench whispers.
I shake my head and it’s then I realize… I’m crying. I clear my throat and wipe my face quickly.
“I’m okay,” my voice deep and gruff.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” Capaneus whispers.
I shake my head no, “I need to maintain control.”
“You’re repressing, you know you need to express your emotions. Organize your thoughts.”
“I am doing the best that I can! I do not know if to be happy, or sad, or angry… and if I am angry, should my rage be directed at my people or yours!” I snap and Capaneus lets go of my hand.
Immediately I am filled with deep regret, “I’m sorry, Capaneus, I know you have nothing to do with Set.”
He turns to move away.
“Capaneus, please don’t go,” I hiss.
“I don’t have any magic to help you anyway…” he whispers and moves away from us, to the other side of the barge.
I would like to say I didn’t mean those harsh words, but I’d said them. Somewhere inside of me, those words were waiting to come out.
86
Jaevia
Lucien isn’t okay, he’s nothing close to being okay. Jack is even worse. Our love is strong, I know that. We have faced everything that the world has thrown at us, yet for once, the threat isn’t from outside, it’s within us, between us.
I know that Lucien is unhappy with Jack. He doesn’t understand why his love isn’t enough to replace the missing parts of Jack’s heart. But that’s not how love works. Lucien can’t fill those missing pieces inside of Jack. No one can.
The more I learned to accept myself as what I was, even the ugly parts of me, the easier it became to let go, and to love what I had instead of mourning what I had lost. But this isn’t something I can explain to Jack, this is something every victim has to discover in their own way, in their own time.
Lucien is impatient. We’re married, it was supposed to fix everything, make everything okay. But now he realizes, it didn’t. Jack losing his powers isn’t the cause of the discourse, it simply exacerbated an already bloody wound. Jack’s stepfather methodically destroyed Jack’s self-esteem, trained him and raised him to only find worth in himself from other people. If someone else doesn’t assign him a worth, think he’s good for something, then he has no worth and he’s not good for anything.
Jack can’t process Lucien’s kind of love, the kind of love that just loves you, not as a sacrificial lamb, or a slave, or a pain slut, or a housekeeper, or an assistant, or a source of power… it has left Jack lost in a land not his own, where everything around him is a reminder that he comes from the god that will destroy it all.
So even if he sees beauty, he feels sadness, all happiness is flavored with the taste of sorrow.
The only thing I can think to do is pull away from Lucien, as horrible as that sounds, force him to lean on Jack more and more… and in Jack’s mind, that will give him worth. They need to depend on one another, know that they can, with or without me. They just have to remember that.
Henenu’s future self warned me – they must remember they are lovers before the world reminds them that they are enemies. This time is crucial if we want to make better choices than the gods of before.
“Go to him, Luey,” I whisper and squeeze his waist before I let him go and return to Nyrobi.
The woman of Ishtar that serves Atum, sits waiting for me on the large chaise beneath the white canopy. Her muscled body stretched out, dark skin glistening with golden undertones. Even in the pretty patterned dress she is more huntress than seductress, but I would imagine there isn’t much difference in a woman like her.
I can’t really tell who is the more dominant between us. To be honest, she doesn’t seem overly concerned with it. Right now she seems to simply enjoy my company and I have to admit I’m enjoying hers. It has been a long time since I’ve been with a woman for the joy of it. Not to establish a power base, or in a bid to get close to them so I can kill them.
She smiles as I join her on the thickly cushioned chaise in the center of the boat. Everyone seems to keep clear of the area, knowing we probably want our privacy.
“How are they,” she nods towards the profiles of Lucien and Jack as they talk to one another in hurried whispers.
I sigh, “Troubled.” I tuck my feet under me as I sit beside her and pick up my goblet of wine.
“Male energy can be troubling,” she shrugs a shoulder and takes a sip of her drink.
I smile, “You don’t like men?”
“I like men very much, but male energy in women or in men… can be troubling.”
My forehead wrinkles, “Why?”
She sighs, “It is centered in the… I? Yes? I am strong, I am powerful, I am right, this is mine… this does not… What is the word?...” She opens her arms and brings them together like she’s hugging herself.
“Connect?”
“Yes, connect, it does not… bind! It does not bind all, that is our power, yes? Our…”
“Connectivity?”
“Yes!” She smiles nodding.
“But doesn’t possessiveness bind?”
She huffs, “It is a weak glue, better love and acceptance to bind. I see you, and wish you, as you are, I wish you.”
I think I understand what she’s saying, not sure I agree… but I understand.
“Male energy together is troubling, but beautiful.”
I huff smiling, “Yes.”
“It is this way between my third and fifth husband…”
“Third and fifth?! How many husbands do you have?”
“Seven and three wives,” She smiles at me like she wishes to make me her fourth.
“How do you manage all of them?”
“There is no… center?”
“No center?” I ask confused.
“No one is above the other? We all love and care for one another.”
“Do you have sex with all of them?”
She shakes her head no, “My seventh husband only enjoys male energy in bed.”
“Then why did you marry him?”
“Is love only sex? Is sex the only reason you would enjoy spending your time with another?”
“Well no, but why isn’t he just your friend?”
“Because he is very much in love with my first husband, and my first husband is very much in love with him and I love who he loves and my heart opened to the beauty of him even without the sex,” she smiles.
“It just seems like… a lot.”
She shrugs, “Perhaps, but I am three-hundred and twenty-six, having ten mates in all of this time… it does not feel so strange, they are pieces of my life, of my heart-song.”
“You’re how old?!” I hiss.
“I have seen three hundred and twenty-six revolutions.”
“Wow,” I breathe out trying to wrap my mind around that number.
She chuckles low, “Do not fret, I still have enough energy for you.”
I smile shaking my head, “Tell me about them, your mates.”
She settles back on the chaise, “Zuri was my first, we grew up together in the lands of Ishtar. He a son of Ishtar and me a daughter and our energies mixed in perfection when we, and us, and all was still more than what we are.”
“Before the fall of the gods?”
She shakes her head no, “I was not so blessed. I have only known what w
e are, not what we were, but it was before the splintering between the peoples.”
“Before they killed Lucien’s mother?”
She nods, “The people have not been the same since then, and perhaps we can never be what we were again.”
We float down the Nile as Nyrobi tells me of her husbands and wives. Her eyes light up in different ways, with a smile here and a gentle roll of the eyes there… she loves them all in different ways. No, it’s not all about sex, in fact lust seems to be a secondary thought to her… even as a daughter of Ishtar.
Emmani, the youngest of her mates, the man Zuri fell in love with comes from the lands of Isis, with a gentle heart. He loves poetry and painting and follows a heart-song of beauty and has more feminine energy than male. He loves and worships Nyrobi as a beautiful thing, but his loins only stir for Zuri.
“Emmani came when Zuri and I were having difficulties. We had changed so much from what we were and could not seem to make the journey back to one another. We both thought we would have to set our marriage to the side and find new heart songs to sing… but then Emmani came.”
“He helped you back to one another, even without wishing to have sex with you?”
She nods, “He was what we needed. How could we not open our hearts to him, wish him to join in our union? He gets along well with our other loves. When it fits and it is right, let it be right and good.”
I lick my lips looking at hers and I throw care to the wind as I move in towards her, wanting to know if this thing between us is right and good.
She tastes familiar, citrus but with honey. Sweet and tangy. I probe her mouth with my tongue wishing to probe her other lips with my tongue as well. Yet I feel her pull back and respect her wishes not to increase the heat.
“We will have time, Jaevia,” she murmurs low and brings a hand up to cup my cheek gently.
I smile, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to seem impatient.”
“No apologies sister, I feel your need to heal.”
I sigh, “It has been… difficult.”
“It has been some time since you have had feminine energy, yes?”
I nod and sigh, “My last… it didn’t end well between us.”
“Why not?”
I shake my head a bit lost on how it all really went wrong between me and Valentine, “I could sit here and say she was more interested in our power than our love. But the simple truth is, I always knew what she was. She never hid that from me; I guess I didn’t understand that there wasn’t a bottom to it, or a line she wouldn’t cross.”
“You did not love her as she was, you did not see her and love her?”
I shake my head no as I look out to the green lands stretched to our right, “I guess I didn’t.”
“I find this happens often. We wish for people to be a certain way and then become angry with them when they are not.”
And I wonder if that will be the thing that destroys Lucien and Jack; as it has ended so many tales of love in the past.
87
Jaevia – Seeing Atum
I join Lucien and Jack at the front of the boat as we reach the city's edge of Atum. The ground is laid with massive pavers made of stone and clay, done in beautiful designs with painted shapes of red and gold turned into a beautiful mosaic.
Large statues that seem to graze the edges of the heavens loom above us every forty feet or so.
“Guardians,” Henenu whispers behind us.
The statues all have the heads of different animals. Falcons, lions, crocodiles, snakes… and yes, even jackals. This sits perhaps as a reminder of what they once were, and what was once betrayed. Something of before, when the old gods walked the earth and splintered it in two.
Some of the statues are feminine, instead of well-formed bare chests, there’s a gentle hint of a bosom covered with a cloth. My eyes keep coming back to the one with the head of a lioness.
The boat comes to a gentle stop right at the pier that juts out into the black river. The two statues on the side of the pier are both of Ra, muscled forms with the head of falcons.
Standing on the large expanse of pavers done with a painted mosaic – are soldiers, guards, all men – dressed in black shendyts; knee-length skirts wrapped around their waists and belted. Large strong dark muscled chests glistening in the sun. Simple black leather sandals tied around their ankles and calves with dark black leather straps. Half masks covering the tops of their faces, painted in the design of falcons as well. Each of them holds a long golden spear, the blades gleam in the sunlight and even from here I can tell they are deathly sharp.
“Goddess,” I breathe out lightly.
Lucien grunts, “Please try to keep your lusts contained, Wench.”
I sigh, “I’ve got it under control.” I wrap my arm around Luey’s because I know he’s feeling insecure. He has nothing to worry over, I love him. Yes, fine, I’m a succubus and I’m not blind – but I know how to appreciate a fine-looking man without needing to take him to my bed… Luey and Jack are it for me when it comes to matters of the heart. Yes, more than likely, at some point, I will probably have sex with another man, but it will not be now… I won’t dare mar Luey’s homecoming by taking another man to my bed. He has enough to worry about.
The boat comes to a stop and the guards spring into action, filing down the pier in a perfect maneuver, two by two they march until they’ve lined each side of the stone pier. They turn, facing one another, making an aisle in unison their spears hitting the pavers together.
Each of them bows their heads, takes a knee, and begins hitting the end of their spears on the ground in rhythm.
“The palace guard – the gold spears,” Henenu murmurs gently behind us, “they take a vow of silence and celibacy for twenty suns as they serve… they welcome you, Hari.”
I feel a gentle nudging at my side and see the young Keyon trying to get a better look. I smile and draw him closer to stand in beside me, draping an arm over his small shoulders.
“Come Hari,” Henenu clasps his arms behind his back and walks down the ramp to the city of Atum.
We follow behind them, Keyon staying close to me, knowing he’ll have a great view if he does, Jack is behind me, trying to pretend everything is okay.
But there is no doubt, the people of Atum are happy to have Luey home. Colorful dresses on the women, with smiles that could dazzle the world. The men are good looking as well. The people in general are of all heights, and shapes, and sizes – there are even a few fairer skinned people mixed about, but not many. Piercings and tattoos, some with scars branded into their flesh, reminding me of Lucien’s back. It’s easy to see these people do not come from the same place. They’re all from different tribes, different lands, yet all and one see Lucien and call him god-king.
The crowd cheers as we make way through the throng, they chant again and again ‘Raja! Raja!’ with drums that beat along with the sound. If not for the gold spears – we’d be overrun.
The presence of the silent deadly soldiers gives us a bit of breathing room and I find myself thankful for it – it may be some time before I’m truly comfortable with crowds again.
I look up at the massive palace of Ra, it blocks out the city. We are dwarfed in its shadow. Rectangular and tall, with a taller square tower on the opposite side of us. Large windows and causeways in the building show plenty of people clamoring to find a spot so they can watch their king return. They rain flower petals down on us, as they cheer us on.
A deep rumbling starts in Lucien’s chest, he’s worried, he doesn’t like this attention, why are they so happy?
“Because their king has returned,” I murmur low.
“That is not enough reason for all of this… I do not deserve all of this…” he grumbles, being as stubborn and as pensive as ever.
“Let the people decide who they want to love.”
He sighs, “Yes, Jaevia.”
Luckily, it’s not a far walk from the dock to the palace door we’re lead to. Lucien isn’t settli
ng down and we need to get him alone. He doesn’t like attention… hell, the man freezes up anytime someone’s nice to him. As if he doesn’t trust it; or is afraid of becoming used to kindness.
This is too much for him.
We make it into the safety of the palace, and I feel the tension in Lucien lessen, a bit at least.
The hallway we step in to is dim, I pull away from his arm so I can walk further into the building. The hallway spills into a large center chamber of the palace. There are two floors, but each floor is thirty feet at least. In the center is a large grass area with bushes and date palm trees that stretch up to the clear sky above us, open to the elements. The second floor is an open mezzanine, a walkway around the edges of the openings to allow the trees to grow up towards the sun. It reminds me of the Magi side back home on Ra’suá.
“Oh my,” I whisper and turn to look at Luey so I can gauge his reaction.
I’m not disappointed. His eyes fill with wonder as he looks around. There is magic here, deep and old magic – the magic of the builders. Even I can see the skill that went into building a place like this. The brick walls laid without a bit of mortar; the stones carved to fit perfectly against one another. The walls are a golden sandstone, with intricate relief art and hieroglyphs chiseled into the surface of them and then painted with gifted hands.
Stories of the harvest, the birth of the supernaturals – the children of the gods. Stories of love between those children and man… stories of life and of death. Stories of the people.
I can feel the echoes of time in my bones, smell the majic in the air. A mix of old dusty books and the first sweet notes of spring. Birds fly about inside, and people are walking in the corridors, most of them men, wearing greens and browns, a few rust colored reds with golden Ankh arm cuffs – they are children of Isis.
They steal glances and give us smiles as they hurry about their work.
“Are all of the workforce children of Isis?” I ask looking to Henenu.