by Karl Ziegler
I was quite tempted to descend the pyramid and explore it further, perhaps a way inside could be found like in the great Pyramids to the north. Perhaps a treasure chamber, untouched by thieves, for who could steal from one such as He? Or vast murals to tell me more of my God’s plight? Yet whenever my thoughts moved from idle temptation to active consideration, I felt the roiling menace of Khaemakhet's disapproval, so upon the peak of His prison I remained.
Finally dusk and fatigue came to alleviate my boredom and after drinking as much as I could I laid in surprising comfort upon the warm stone and quickly fell asleep.
7
A great river, wide and lined by thousands of reeds. Above was the goddess Tefnut, a tempest of bubbling clouds that hammered thunder and threatened rain, how dare she! I could not explain why, but I hated her rain and cursed her for it.
“Drink... Drink of My water and become One with your God...” Khaemakhet repeated, now with great urgency, but I hesitated. The water was murky and brown, I could barely see my feet and while I felt Khaemakhet within the water, where once was gentle benevolence were now ripples of fear, and scalding greed. Greed for what? I wondered.
“Drink!” He yelled, and I was compelled to obey. The water was unpleasant and earthy, but not undrinkable, so I drank... drank... drank... until the taste of mud burned at my throat.
Night had passed and so had half the day when I woke with a horrid thirst. I hurried to the pool but despaired when I saw the water was now as murky as it had been in my dream! Too bad, my thirst demanded appeasement, and I drank. It tasted different to my dream but no less unpleasant. Sour, bitter tastes, and a hint of something disgustingly sweet, like no tastes that had crossed my tongue before.
Khaemakhet ignored my queries about the purity of His water. Had I offended Him? Overstayed my welcome? Having restored me perhaps it was obvious now that I should leave His side, seek followers who would help free Him and then return, just as I had envisioned.
It was suddenly obvious to me that I was stupid and should have left yesterday! Now He has turned His water sour to force His quest upon me. Maybe He could have just said as much, but who am I to question such as He? It's my own fault, I’m no child; Khaemakhet should not have to explain everything.
Continuing to silently berate myself, I stood and tried to decide which way I should head, where might be the nearest road or river. The Nile lay to the east, of this there was no doubt but as I had decided at the plane, heading southwest was still the best bet, back to the Dakhla Oasis or a road that connected to it. Perhaps with undue optimism I guessed it to be no more than forty or fifty kilometres away; still an extremely dangerous journey that would push me once again to my limits, but Khaemakhet was with me, He had chosen me, I was His prophet, I would not fail!
Deciding to leave shortly before sundown so as not to risk another fall in the dark, I felt my thirst return so I sat back by the pool and forced as much of the sour water down my throat as I could. I would need to be fully slaked before leaving and only now as I drank did I consider the possibility of overhydration. Consuming too much water can be fatal and yet I could have sworn by now that I had drank far more than my body weight without releasing a drop. The level of the water was somewhat lower than when I first arrived as well. Where it went inside me I cannot say, my dimensions were the same as they had always been, if anything I was a bit thinner. Such is the water of a God, any scientific reasonings seemed pointless before the miracles bestowed upon me.
Reaching the limit of what I could stomach I looked again at the mosaic. The scarab now seemed far more prominent than it had at first, almost glowing, standing out through the murk where the rest of the mosaic had become clouded and obscure.
The next few hours waiting for the sun to lower were concerning to say the least. Within minutes of drinking to my limit my thirst would return, and I could hardly go half an hour before the thirst was unbearable and I would rush to drink just as desperately as when I had first arrived. The water grew darker and even more disgusting the more I drank and so I convinced myself that Khaemakhet was ensuring I would not be tempted to stay, and once I was clear of the pyramid, I would remain sated enough to complete my journey.
Inevitably the sun reached the arbitrary point I had decided would be my time to leave. Ignoring my own thirsty plea for one last gulp of spoiled water I moved to lower myself down to the next row of blocks when a wave of Khaemakhet’s fury crashed over me.
I froze, confused. Did He expect me to stay? Was His wrath directed at something else? Nervously I continued leaning towards the ledge.
DRINK!
I whimpered. My throat screamed for more of the pool's foul water but with trembling bravado, I stood my ground.
"M-Master... please..." I begged. "If I leave now, I can free-"
His crushing will swirled around me, a boiling ocean of seething black malice drowning my words and all thoughts of resisting Him.
Oh, I will have My freedom, ‘prophet,’ and you will not defy Me again! Now DRINK!
His presence drained away and with it went the last of my sanity.
Obediently I scuttled back to the pool, its water so murky now that only the scarab was visible through it. Shovelling the putrid liquid into my mouth I begged Khaemakhet for His forgiveness, drinking well beyond what I thought I could physically handle even as each gulp was met with a gag. This continued into the night, until after several hours of sadistic slurping He grew bored and allowed me to sleep.
8
I stood in the black river of Khaemakhet as He devoured the Nile. Obsidian water flowed north and south, converting every unsullied drop it touched into another drop of Him. Thousands of thin black arms reached out from the water, some several meters tall, grasping at whatever they could. Horrified people by the shore and on boats tried to flee as the arms lunged for them, slicing them viciously if they were lucky, or grabbing and pulling them below if they were not. Plants He touched withered and died within seconds, and wounds He delivered blistered with toxic corruption.
Khaemakhet laughed at their terror.
A modern-day river cruiser, several levels tall and with over a hundred souls aboard floated defiantly, His arms just out of reach of the lowest deck. Khaemakhet heaved, and a great wave formed behind the ship. As the wave began to crash, I saw that what seemed to be white foam was instead the growing of thousands upon thousands of sword-like teeth. In all directions the teeth skewered, stabbed, and smashed as the wave curled like a horrendous mouth and shattered itself upon the ship, dragging the vessel below. Those who survived the monstrous bite tried leaping to safety, diving instead to their doom as His arms swarmed around those that splashed in the water. None who were dragged below breathed air again.
With silent sorrow I watched, powerless, imprisoned. The Nile was just the beginning; Khaemakhet lusted for every last drop of water on Earth to be Him.
Before my eyes had even opened, I felt my hand dipping into the pool to drink. The water of the pool was now glistening obsidian black, as it twinkled with reflected starlight it almost seemed beautiful, until I forced it into my mouth.
It kept the fluid viscosity of water yet had an unspeakably putrid taste. To drink from a cesspit would have been a welcome relief. I retched uncontrollably at every sip but none that entered me was ever allowed escape and my fragmented mind lacked the inclination to do anything but drink, drink, drink. And drink I did, losing all sense of time.
I held few tangible thoughts, mostly my mind raced from image to image of His atrocities, unsure if they were dreams or memories, unable to tell if they were committed in the ancient past or imagined for a very near future.
Khaemakhet, Scourge of the Nile they called Me... curse them...
I almost didn't notice the thought, first assuming it to be my own random babble.
Ra... Tefnut... Anubis… IMPOSTERS!
Khaemakhet was so close to me now. Close enough that His once guarded thoughts leaked into my own. Or perhaps I was so
utterly His at this point that He bothered not to hide them. Regardless, he stewed obsessively over an ancient defeat.
They pretended to be gods, but they were like Me, from between the stars, from beyond time...
My knuckles ripped as I dragged them over the mosaic, desperate to ingest more of His poison. This must have been happening for hours (days?) now that the pool was mere centimetres deep. Too shallow to continue drinking by hand. Before He could chastise me, I rolled over the edge and with a painful crack my head found the pool’s bottom and I continued to drink. I wondered idly why I had been too afraid to completely enter the pool before, but the thought was soon lost amongst His ruminations.
The worship of humans, and lordship over their tiny civilizations? Pathetic narcissists. Was that the limit of their vision? How dare they judge Me! Humans are practically made of water; of course I consumed them!
Sun then stars then sun then stars; I don’t know how long it took before all that remained was the final puddle gathered around a now-throbbing golden scarab. I squirmed greedily over to it.
Gone now, Tefnut's FILTHY, "cleansing" rain, Ra's despicable radiance, Anubis with his vile schemes, gone, gone, gone! Not for thousands of years have I sensed them. Gone, gone, gone, who cares where! My return is imminent, My vessel almost ready, and without them to imprison Me again I-
Finally, the very last drop entered my mouth as Khaemakhet's thundering voice shook my head.
DESTROY IT! DESTROY IT NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW!
Power radiated from the golden scarab, vibrating harshly in the centre of the pool. The ocean of Khaemakhet writhed inside me, and the scarab whispered to me desperately that if it were allowed to persist just a few moments longer then its power would draw Khaemakhet from me. I would vomit all of Him back into His prison, and the peace of death would be mine. All I would have to do to prevent calamity is resist Him for but a few more seconds.
A futile plea.
Without even a ghost of resistance remaining I dutifully reached out and grabbed the scarab, which was like grabbing the sun itself. Skin melted from my hands but with the strength of a God and a scream to match I tore it asunder and collapsed in a scorched wreck, shattering it before me. It disintegrated, gold dust blowing in beautiful, tragic spirals above me as I sighed in relief and closed my eyes.
But there would be no rest. Not for me.
Khaemakhet stood, my body now entirely His. Imprisoned behind my own eyes, my soul was bound to bear witness in eternal horror to His atrocities: my punishment for bringing Him back. He closed His eyes and took a great breath, then calmly exhaled. I felt the burns heal and a dark smirk grow across His face as He reopened His eyes and observed the world before Him.
Unbound by the curvature of the Earth, and supernaturally aware of the presence of water, He looked southwest at the Dakhla Oasis, just eighty kilometres away. Deep below His feet He sensed a great aquifer, and in the distance, but in all directions, oceans! Ignoring local temptations, He turned around completely to face His heart's true desire: the Nile, just over two hundred kilometres away. The gods and kingdoms that wronged Him had long since passed but it mattered not; He would have His reckoning.
Descending the walls of His tomb with righteous determination, I wept and Egypt trembled as Khaemakhet set foot upon her sands once again and surged towards His destiny.