Page one of infinity
The waters of the blue Nile lapped up against the sides of the moored ships. People and cargo departed and arrived on regular basis driven by the slow sloshing of the life of Egypt. A young girl, one who could have only been five or six ran a hand though her short curly locks, a glow of purple hit the bright African sun as the plum colored strands slipped over her stout adolescent fingers. She sighed and bit her lip as a new ship docked, this HAD to be the one. She had been waiting for her father for an eternity. In reality it had only been 30 minuets but time moves slowly around the form a child waiting for their one and only parent to return. The ramp opened and two soaking men grunted as they drug the heavy form of a mangled Nile crocodile down the incline. The girl’s teeth dug deeper into the flesh below them turning her lip white. The crocodile was followed by another equally mangled body, her father. The man who raised her, who taught her all about language (his art) in just the short time she could understand and the time she now stood on the docks shaking her head in disbelief. Her teeth suddenly clamped down suppressing a scream and the blood came spilling to the surface.
****
“I want that rug. He PROMISED that to me!” A voice rang drudgingly though the wall the young girl had her ear press to.
“Yes, well, take your rug and go, this house is MINE!” another spat out followed by the hollow echo of a fist against wood.
“We shall see about that!” Yet another rang out so loud the young girl’s eyes screwed shut. “Well just see who takes all.”
“You want the house??? FINE! Take everything in it, everything, even the girl, Nefret. Save me the hassle of marring her off when she blooms.”
“No brother, you’re not placing that burden on me.” A man’s voice hissed. “Now lets be reasonable about this all. We’re family, we should look out for one another’s interests. None of us will be saddled with the child.” He breezed.
“Then who? We can’t throw her away, if the courts found out all the estate would go to her and her upbringing!!!”
“Than we make ourselves look charitable. We make a gift to the local temple.”
10 years later……
~High jinks on the high~
The alabaster halls of the temple of dendera blazed like thick cream in the open sunlight. Columns held up the vaulted ceiling like strong arms of the gods, each one was decorated with the loving face of the Goddess Hathor as hieroglyphics and pictures of the goddess herself spilled down the columns and walls in a comforting wash of religion. Mutters of priestess praising the glorious “golden one” echoed around as trained priestess danced and played out praise in song and the clang of sistrums. Nefret was among their ranks, her plum hair under the press of a plated black wig. Her now graceful and hippy 16 year old body twisted and turned, arms stretched behind her as her neck fell to the side in a lulling turn, feet leaving the ground in limber flips and cartwheels, stomach twisting and undulating, all in the worship of her goddess. Nefret smiled as she limberly caught the arm of a fellow priestess, they both turned as their arms snaked together reaching up their shared goal, the heavens. But the young priestess had another goal, as soon as her fingers had snaked up enough to touch the wrist of the other woman she bounded up on her toes and took possession of the sacred rattle she held, the sistrum.
Laughing Nef took the corner into the hallway in a slide griping fiercely onto her prize as the true owner gave chase. “Lose something?” She shouted back.
“Nef… come on… I know you lost your sistrum….. but….. oh come on!” Nefret’s pursuer breathed out between taking corners of the temple in sharp turns.
Nef laughed harder as her wig blew off. The woman caught it just before she tackled the plum haired teen. “Lose something?” She asked as Nef howled at her defeat. The other priestess let her grip loosen as screams started to bounce off the wall. “Neffie, stop screaming like that! Did I hurt you?” She spun her younger friend around to stare in her face.
“It’s not me screaming.” Nefret shook her head, her lined eyes grew large as the screaming intensified. One priestess ran to get help as the other ran in the direction of the blare.
~Taking it out in trade~
Mozenrath’s lip pulled back in a snarl as he let a charge bolt to a nearby column toppling it and sending dust and shrapnel everywhere. This only exaggerated the shouts from the crowd of high priests and priestesses. “One last time, tell me about the power of Hathor’s Apocalypse!!” He grabbed the nearest priest and put his gloved hand to the fat man’s throat. “tell-me-or-you-all-die.” The sorcerer hissed in a deadly clear whisper. The heavy man only watch the man looming over him with a wide-eyed, paralyzed stare. Mozenrath growled and closed his hand over the man’s trachea.
“NO!!!!” the shout was so loud Mozenrath was forced to look up as a young plum haired girl burst though a cloud of dust. Her shoulder length hair was a strange shade of purple and her wide mocha tone face shone with anger. Her shout was the only comprehendible word Mozenrath had heard since he had gotten there. Everything else had been screams and wordless crying. She stopped short as his eyes meet hers. “What do you want here?” She half snarled.
“How to bring on Hathor’s Apocalypse again.” Mozenrath let the fat priest back on his feet but the man was to scared to run away from his death.
“You won’t get it. The last one to hold that secret is a secret himself.” She shook her head.
Moze nodded as if agreeing it was a fair statement while his hand jutted back to the priest’s neck. “Than I take it out in trade. I’ll trade in bloodshed.”
He suddenly felt the something heavy slash his hand down knocking his intended victim to the floor. He looked down to see the girl hanging on his elbow, her eyes meeting his in a blaze. A wild fire roared beneath those eyes, a scorching wild inferno lived under the cool soft expansion of her skin. It was a spirit he had only seen in a few people, and even less wrapped in the form of a woman. He slowly let his arm down without harming her, a spirit like that commanded some kind of respect. At least the respect to be extinguished in a dignified death.
Nefret’s heart was beating wildly. What was she doing? Why did she never THINK before she did these things? To late now, it was die if you do, die if you don’t. Stepping away from the strong aura this deadly stranger radiated she posed a question. “What else will you trade?”
Mozenrath regarded her blankly for a moment, but his mind was far from blank. She was strong, brave or stupid he didn’t know, but she was strong. This little one had a spirit ablaze, youth, intelligence in her eyes, and a none too plain exterior. She was a wild horse, spirited and seemingly unownable. Possession was everything to him, a challenge to that was always appealing. What an ego booster it would be to take that wild mare and chain her, break her when no other could. Take her self-pleasing will and form it into a spirit of servitude, a slave. “What’s your name?” He finally broke the silence.
“Nefret Anuxanamoon of Dendera in Egypt, priestess of Hathor.” Nef shoved her nose in the air hoping to intimidate him with a long sounding title.
“Well Nef, how would you like to add to your title? How’s ‘Nefret Anuxanamoon of Dendera in Egypt, priestess of Hathor and servant of the lord Mozenrath’ sound?”
~Deafening click~
His domain was the very last thing to be expected. Nefret knew enough of Lords to know they lived in light opulent manner houses with hundreds of servants to perform any task that could ever present itself, and a village just outside the manner gates was a must. Busy, hassling with the battles of commerce and the tasks of everyday life. Instead The Land of the Black Sand was utterly empty of life. No plants, no animals, no people, ANYWERE. It must be said there was a village, but it had been abandon many years ago with only the shell of homes to speak of the ghosts of life that had once roamed there. Another amendment must be made, there were servants, but none lived or breathed. Only dead corpses animated by his force. Soldiers, domestics, lookouts, all of them had breathed their last many years ago. Now they were only mindless servants, mumluks. He ruled over nothing, only empty buildings (beautiful as his manner, the Citadel, was), waking dead, and darkness, dark sand, dark skies, and dark rooms. Perhaps that’s why this sorcerer talked so much of dominating other kingdoms. One animal did roam feely around the lonely halls of the Citadel. If he was an animal. Xerxes, as the fly and talking eel was called, showed his jealousy right away with a nasty comment on her virtue and a smart slap. It didn’t speak well as to what her treatment would be here as the young Egyptian walked behind her apparently new master. She had in mind what to expect, chains, shackles, a dark dripping cell to sleep in and regular beatings to keep her in line. She stopped a few steps away as Mozenrath opened a door and led her inside.
“This is the Red Room, your new chambers.” Nefret looked up not expecting and was meet with a shocking surprise. The Red Room was large with a high ceiling and a long wall of windows. Crimson velvet hung in tapestries and curtains down the marble walls and the bed was decked out in silk pillows and bedding in shades of red and complimentary colors. This was better than she had had at the temple. “Does it suit you?” Mozenrath asked in a monotone voice.
“It’ll do.” Nefret scoffed as mumluks set her belonging on the bed followed by the bounding presence of her dog, Anubis, who Nef had somehow convinced Mozenrath to take along with her. Mozenrath motioned for his new servant to sit. When she did he took her ankle and snapped something heavy around it with a foreboding ‘click’.
Nefret looked over with interest as he retreated. A heavy gold anklet encased her ankle. A large oval ruby was held between the fangs of twin snakes as their bodies slithered around each other along the circet of the anklet. “What’s this?” Nefret asked trying to hide the nervous edge in her voice. “A gift to make up for my ruined life?” she scoffed sarcastically.
Mozenrath turned before leaving the room. “It’s the shackle you’ve been expecting.”
~Midnight run~
Silk sheets smoothed over a female body as Nefret shifted in bed, the day’s happenings running in her head. Mozenrath had briefed her on her new responsibilities. Mumluks bore the grunt work, she would make sure they ran smoothly, that they knew what they were to do and when to do it. She was to keep the Citadel a well-oiled machine so he could focus on his studies and his pursuit of power. Her more “imperative” duties came in the form of bookkeeper and lab assistant. She was to keep the manner logs, to know what was in the Citadel and what wasn’t, what they needed on the next supply run and to record important events, to be a gofor in the lab, getting whatever he needed, stirring, mixing, and assembling potions, to be at his beck and call for that ever task he needed another pair of hands for. His all around “little minion” as he so referred to her during his orders.
“To hell with that!!” Nefret whispered as angrily as she could without creating an echo. The flutter of her sheets a she flung them off was replaced a few moments later with the flutter of her nightgown in the harsh black desert winds. Anubis whined as he followed her. “Just a bit further boy, I see the tan sands ahead!” seeing her freedom in the normal brown hued sand dunes that loomed just feet away she took off at a fast gait. Her happy cry as her toes breached the barrier between black and brown sand quickly turned into a scream of absolute horror and pain as the anklet ruby glowed bright and an electric storm surrounded her, pulsing though her in white hot fingers of pain. Words echoed in her burning mind, “this is the shackle you’ve been expecting.” Nef gave a last gasp as she fell back into the black sand to lie there stunned and unable to move. Her breath was labored as her eyes slid shut.
Mozenrath dismounted at the sight of something fluttering and white dancing above the black sand at the very border of his domain. His guess that it was his new servant was proven as he noticed a dog pacing. The sorcerer crouched down at her side and pressed his fingers to her throat. Good, she was alive. It had been no real surprise to find her gone from her room, he would have been suspired if she hadn’t tried to escape. He had only hoped on his ride to the edge of his Kingdome that had survived. Carefully he gathered her in his arms and lifted her to his horse. Nefret, feeling her back leave the ground opened her eyes to meet those of her master, she muttered something incoherent but sounded like “It was a good try.” Before slipping back under.
Mozenrath shook his head almost amused and muttered one thing as he mounted the horse, making sure Nef was securely bent over the dark animal’s neck. “Foolish Girl.”
~Dinner conversation~
Everything in the young girls body hurt after that, she had spent most of the next day in bed lulling in the crimson sheets and refusing to see anyone. But by noon the pain was gone and the kick in her stomach made her reminded she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. Her quick trip to the pantry was successful and soon she was snacking on fruit under the sheet and refusing to answer the knocks of the mumluks as they wished entrance to make her bed.
Evening fell in the already dark day sky and Nef was still shut up in her room entertaining herself with a few books she had found while on her food raid.
*Knock knock*
Nefret looked up, she knew who that was. It was a strong commanding knock, not like the halfhearted taps of the mumluks. She scowled and made an obscene gesture to the door before answering. “Go away I’m not well.”
“Your coming down for dinner.” Came a firm male voice.
“No I’m not. I’m not hungry.” Nef replied boredly. The girl bolted upright from the chair as the door flung open. “Hey, I could have been naked for all you’d know!” Nefret yelled at Mozenrath as she hide the book.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, and it looks like you don’t have much of it.” Moze jibed as he grabbed his servant by the shoulder and pulled her downstairs.
Mozenrath rolled his eyes up from his plate to look at Nefret. She sat back in her chair at the opposite end of the table as his with her arms crossed flatly refusing to even lift the cover off her plate.
“Eat.” Mozenrath commanded.
“Like I said, I’m-not-hungry.” The girl answered back as if she was talking to a two year old. Mozenrath growled lowly as he clutched his fork harder trying to remind himself he expected this from her. It would be all the more conquest when he broke her.
“Well, I doubt you’ll waste away anytime soon.” He retorted. “Especially with your secret trip to MY pantry.” He added for effect. Nef winced a little, she thought no one had see her, how did he know? “You just better be ready when I put you to work tomorrow.” Moze punctuated the statement by bringing his whine glass down a bit to hard.
~Brake!~
Mozenrath sat in a lofty chair flipping through a book in the study. The sun had rose on another day, not that you’d know it though the ever-present clouds. Nefret sat by the active fireplace writing something with careful strokes of her pen. Mozenrath hummed as he fell upon an unfamiliar spell mentioned in his studies. He half rose to his feet to retrieve his trusty spell book when he suddenly remembered he had a live servant now. He grinned realizing he’d finally put his newest toy to work.
Xerxes slid under his master’s hand wanting to be the first to see the girl’s forced obedience. “Nefret, my minion,” Mozenrath added to remind her of her signed promise. “Get me the large back book on that shelf to your left.” He pointed to the book as Nefret looked up blankly. The sorcerers face fell as she just as blankly turned back to work. “Nefret…” came his low warning voice. “obey me. Get the book.” He clenched his fist at her unresponsiveness. Nefret’s pen continued to scratch across the paper. Taking a deep breath Mozenrath raised from his seat pushing his hands on the table. Still nothing. With determined and weighty steps he made his way to stand in front of her. His shadow landing on her in a sued angle by the yellow firelight. She remained locked in her writing. A hand found its way to tangle in the hair behind her head. Mozenrath tugged back, careful not to be too harsh and rip the strands from their roots but enough to force her head back so their eyes meet. He lowered his head so their noses almost bumped. Nefret felt fear surge in her stomach, anyone would have to be stone cold crazy not to be afraid of him, but she determined to keep her face straight. It still might have shone in her eyes, just a bit as the pupils retracted and her eyes rolled a bit to take in the look of his face. He had no real readable look, only a straight line for a mouth and cool black eyes. A one-word breath swept over her face from his mouth. “Brake.”
It was an order, a demand, not a request. The word held power as if it was meant to reach inside of her and magically snap any resolve she owned rather than a word to be heard. Nefret felt the fear surge up her limbs, but her mouth obviously wasn’t affected. “No thanks.” she breathed back.
With a sigh Mozenrath withdrew his hand and took the seat opposite her and stared. “I gave you a comfortable room, good food (that you refuse), I intend to make you comfortable here, a well treated servant. You could have anything, within reason, alls it would take would be your request and your service to me.” He promised solemnly. “Just do your job and I’ll see to it your life is contented.”
Nefret rose from her seat. “The promise of material possessions angle wont go far Mozenrath.”
“You will address me as Master!!” He ordered.
“I will call you master when, or more likely if, you deserve it, when I find some respect for you!” She half yelled. Before he left the room she added one last penny for his thoughts. “If my servitude is to be, I’ll be like no other servant you’ve had.”
~Things uncovered~
Days when on like that. Nefret had made a new code for life, there in body, but not mind. She sat in the study with him, at his dinner table, at this side in the lab but never did she lift a finger for his benefit. She was a useless appendage, there, but unworking. However, Mozenrath never gave up on his orders. He still gave them hoping she’d obey, but she didn’t. Soon he came to the point he only asked once. After her inevitable silence he’d do it himself. Not that he’d given up, oh no, he wasn’t one to do that. He’d find a different approach. EVERYONE can be broken, you just had to find the right cracking surface. So along with his orders he’d make seemingly idle conversation, asking of friends, her favorite food, her most loved possession, her upbringing, all the while he’d look for something he could use to take her down a notch of two. Something in her that was a weakness.
Her answers were simple one-sentence responses. “I had nice friends at the temple, not you’d know of friends.” “Sweet bread, I like sweet bread alright.” “You so kindly left my favorite possessions at the temple.” “I raised myself from age 6.” Those were bare bones answers, empty of anything useful for his purpose.
Mozenrath looked at her over the dinner table one evening thinking of more questions. Her last answer popped in his head “I raised myself from age 6.” ‘And before that?’ He questioned himself. “Nefret, what about your parents? You must have had parents.” He retorted as her face darkened. Was this it? Maybe she had some horrible family secret. Maybe her mother was a prostitute, or her father a thief, that would take her pride down! “Someone you were close to before you lived at the temple? Mother, aunt, uncle, father?”
Nefret dug into her meal more furiously than she had since she had gotten there. She knew her silence didn’t look good, it might look like he’d gotten her cornered and scared, even if she was she wasn’t going to let him know. “My mother was a noble woman. She died in my birth.” Nefret said flatly. “My father was a scribe. He was killed on the Nile when I was 6.” Her voice was even flatter. Mozenrath’s lips pulled to the side, that wasn’t what he was hoping for, no dark dirty skeletons in the closet. Only a girl of half noble birth, educated, and a priestess. Her pride would be iron clad.
He sighed as he picked up his whine glass. It fell to the floor as he howled in unexpected pain. Nefret’s head shot up to see him clutch his right arm and coil into himself. “Ahh damn, not again!” He managed to hiss only vaguely aware Nefret was at his side now. He could only acknowledge her when he felt her take is gloved hand and slide the leather covering off of it. As bone reviled itself Nef dropped the appendage and slammed her hand to her mouth in horror. Mozenrath’s hand fell limp for a moment allowing the gauntlet to slip to the ground. He clutched the bone back to his chest and looked up painfully to her face. So filled with horror, disgust even. He suddenly became very angry, angry at the pain, the deformity, her unacceptance, his entire misfortune. “IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE IT GET THE HELL OUT!!!!” He ordered, but like so many of his orders she didn’t comply. He looked away to coddle his burning arm.
“What do you do?” Came a surprisingly firm voice. “What do you do about the pain?” Nefret narrowed her eyes.
Moze managed a slight rueful sneer. “I drink.” He reached for a whine glass with his good hand. At the last second it was pulled away from his grasp.
“Not anymore.” Nefret ran out of the room careful to take both his and her glasses with her. Clatters and bangs ran out from the pantry as Nefret franticly searched for her goal. In a bowl she threw a jar of lanoline and her final find, a bundle of powder opium. Saving time she filled the bowl with water boiling for tea in the kitchen and grabbed rags that were used to polish the silver. By the time she got back to the dinning room the water, lanoline, and opium had set into a smooth paste. Lathing a strip of cloth in the mixture she held out her hand to receive Mozenrath’s bone one. He looked at the mixture she had set before him then at her firm face to her outcast hand. Slightly doubtful she would even let his horrid limb get close to her he slowly lifted it. To his surprise she reached out to meet him halfway and carefully, almost caringly wrapped his hand in the rag. He hissed in pain. “Easy now, It’s feel better in a moment, just let it soak.” She whispered intent on her work. She was right, after a while a lovely warm numbness overtook his pain. Seeing him relax back into the chair Nefret spoke again. “What did this to you?”
Mozenrath looked into her face wanting to judge her reaction. “I did, by wearing the gauntlet.” He saw he eyes narrow just a bit.
“It meant that much?” she asked.
Mozenrath nodded. “It’s everything, it gave me everything.” He unwrapped his hand and stared at it.
Nefret bit her lip and grasp for the hand and examined it. “I tell ya, I’ve seen a lot in the birth houses of Denera, babies missing all sorts of parts, even twins stuck together. None lived beyond a few days of pain. I never knew anyone could live this way.” She mumbled.
Mozenrath wondered how she could be so rock steady handling his freakish appendage. Not many people had ever been able to lay eyes on it much less hold it for a closer look. His fingers instinctively crooked down to grip her palm a bit, but just a quickly loosened and pulled back. He replaced his leather mask and stood. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, I never thought of such a treatment. I th…..” He shook his head unable to say it and headed for the door. “Good night Nefret, I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”
That night before he fell asleep several thoughts ran in Mozenrath’s mind. One, Nefret was going to be hard it not impossible to break. Two, did he really want to break her now anyways? A broken woman would never had had the spirit she showed tonight as she flew though the pantry like a storm. And three, she had accepted him, she had almost been…. like a friend. Could she rise above the level of slave? ‘no, no’ he to told himself. ‘She’ll be my servant nothing more. Nothing more.’ He desperately assured himself as he slid into slumber, a slumber filled with strange words. Most notably the phrase, “little sister.”
~”……when I find some respect for you.”~
Mozenrath meet Nefret in the lab the next day. She was thumbing through some of his sketches and figures. “I never gave you permission to do that you know.” He sighed as he took down some needed books.
“I know, I wanted to know what we’re up to. No good I see.” She smirked and set the papers back.
Mozenrath’s eyebrow arched at the word ‘we’re’. Must have been a mistake he assured himself. Wearily he flipped though a book, finding the place he left off yesterday. With a deep sigh he asked, “Nefret bring me the blue bottle.” He knew it was a fruitless effort, but by now it was routine to ask before he did it himself. A moment after asking her turned to retrieve the bottle and was nearly knocked off his feet to see Nefret at his side bottle in hand. He stared at her for a moment.
“Not what you wanted?” Nef waved the bottle a bit.
“No no, that’s it.” he regained composure.
“That’ll be all my lord?” she asked nonchalantly.
Mozenrath almost fell down. “My lord? Didn’t I tell you to call me master?” he knew he was pushing it, hey, he wasn’t going to let he set her own rules!
“I will not be your slave, I chose this, I’m to good for that. I will be your personal servant, your assistant, your right hand woman….”
“My little minion.” He butted in.
Nefret gave a sarcastic smirk. “So sweet of you to find a pet name for me.” Nefret glared for a moment, a strange glare as if to say ‘this as good as you’ll get.’ “Are you going to take the bottle or what?” She waved it annoyingly.
He thought for a second then carefully took the container out of her hand, sealing their deal. He couldn’t help the small grin that spread over is his lips. He hadn’t broken her, oh no, that fire was still in her eyes just as bright, maybe brighter than before. She was far from tamed. He had a feeling she never would be. Rather she was offering her service on her own free will now rather than having it forced out of her later. He knew she would still be obstinate at times, that they might clash at every corner. But even wild horses run in packs.
~(Not) the end~
That little voice inside the dark Mozenrath could never be suppressed, no matter how much he wished he could block out its truthful tone. It was always right, on every occasion. Nefret did become a little sister in his heart. Someone he watched out for, someone who annoyed him at times, someone he argued with, but never the less someone that little voice inside him grew to care about deeply. He never let that little voice speak outside his own soliquies. But Nefret knew, she knew because she had taken Mozenrath as a big brother, someone she knew she could depend on, someone who exerted control over her, control she resented, someone she rivaled with and like to make angry and enjoyed seeing him uncomfortable all in fun a games, but loved all at the same time. They went on as such, having too many stories to retell now, here. Too many twists and turns, ups and downs, new people, both welcome and loathed. But they remained in unspoken friendship thought it all. After all, wild horses do tend to run together.
But rather struggling and under attack but strong in each other for all time.
(not) the end………….
*warp*
“And so that’s how it happened huh?” a green haired demon inquired as she braided her friends hair.
“Yep, the whole ugly story.” Nefret sighed as she picked out a polish to paint Chroias’s toenails.
“Aww that so sweet!!!!!” Chroias pinched Nefret’s cheeks teasingly. The girl growled.
“It was not sweet!!! ONE of us ALMOST ended up dead those first few days!!!”
“I wish I was there the when you fist arrived.” The demoness lay back as Nef applied fresh polish to her toenails.
“Why so you could have made me feel WELCOME?” Nefret smiled friendly.
“No, so I could have tied razors to your feet and thrown you two in the cock fight ring. It would have been interesting to find out who’d come out alive.” The demon squealed as the entire bottle of cold polish was poured over her feet.
The door suddenly burst open and Mozenrath stood there holding an old piece of paper practically fuming. “Who did this piece of art?!!” He pointed to the caricature of him with a rather large stick protruding from his rump.
“Oh, that’s what I was working on the day I was ignoring Mozenrath in the study.” Nefret whispered to Chroias. The demon broke out laughing. Mozenrath roared. Both girls took off yelling pursued by the mad man. “Oh come on Moze, pull the stick out of your butt!” Nef yelled back. Mozenrath yelled and lunched at her.
“Why you little…” Moze yellped as the hit the oil slick of spilled red nail polish. Screeching sounds are heard. “Get outa the way!!” he yells just off camera. There’s a loud crash followed by groans.
*end*