Horror / Artificer
Chapter 2: Artificer’s City
Mshai’s camel planted itself and skid to a halt, throwing him to the ground. He stumbled to his feet and turned to face the animal with a growl. The camel stared back with puckered lips and appeared to be on the verge of spitting. Tripping over himself, he backed away.
“If you would use a saddle,” Djadao began, chuckling, “he'd be easier to control.”
“We would also move faster,” Remmao said, resuming his characteristic smirk.
“Perhaps if you paid better, I would be inclined to hurry,” Mshai retorted.
Mshai walked to where his camel had stopped and was resting. Gripping its neck with one hand and its hump with the other, he threw his leg over its back and mounted.
“You know, Djadao, you may make a better mount. A tamer one, at least,” Mshai taunted. “The smell is certainly the same.”
The fat forming his cheeks and neck creased together as Djadao glanced down and patted one of his daggers, flashing Mshai a glare. Unsheathing it, he gave the air a passing swipe before attempting to return it to his belt, only to have it slip from his greasy fingers. Instead of dismounting, he leaned over and stared at it. He shifted in the saddle with a grunt and spurred his camel, leaving it where it had fallen. The beast groaned beneath him and moved forward a pace before stopping again.
“I take it back,” Mshai said. “You’re too fat and lazy to even dismount.”
“Get off yourself, then!” Spit and fragments of the trio’s last meal sprayed the neck of Djadao’s mount.
Djadao pulled his leg over his mount’s back and dangled precariously a moment before his foot came free and he fell to the ground. Hard enough to make the earth tremble. He stood and dusted himself off before pulling a spare dagger from a strap around his upper arm. With a practiced, self-assured waddle, more amusing than threatening, he strode towards Mshai.
“Get off, I said!”
Djadao raised the dagger to strike, only for his arm, then body, to drop. The ground shook and a dust of cloud billowed into Mshai’s face. Mshai ‘s camel stood and threw him for the second time before trotting off, this time without stopping until it had crossed a small dune and was hidden by the crest. He landed on top of Djadao’s immobile body. No, corpse! His companion was dead!
The shaft of an arrow protruded from the back of Djadao’s throat, its head lost somewhere in his flesh. That extra padding did nothing to protect you, Mshai thought of Djadao’s fat neck and grinned, only for the thought to be replaced by disgust with himself. His face contorted and he threw himself off of the body.
“Most people would be thankful when they’ve just been rescued,” a soft voice said.
Mshai grasped the hilt of his scimitar and turned to face the voice. Fearing reprisal if he were to draw the blade, he kept it sheathed.
He could make out the newcomer’s masculine jaw line and the tip of their nose, but could see nothing more. Covered in a thick black robe dotted with fragments of sand, his entire body was covered. The robe’s hood was draped just right to move with the wearer and avoid revealing his face. In his right hand the man held a bow. On closer inspection, Mshai could tell that it was formed from an old, half-rotted wooden pole and the dried guts of an animal. He was surprised it had been capable of launching an arrow even at close range. A scimitar, finely made and sheathed in a jeweled hilt, hung at the man‘s side.
“Thankful that you killed our companion?” Remmao asked, still mounted and unarmed.
“Do traveling companions always attack one another in this part of the world?” the man asked. “Forgive me for referring to this,” he gestured to the sand dunes to either side of him, “without specifics, but I have no idea where I am.”
“You’re on the trade route to Memphis,” Mshai answered. “Thank you for dealing with Djadao, but there was no reason to kill him. I can defend myself.”
“Yes, there was no reason to kill one of my guards,” Remmao added. “I don’t have to pay corpses, but now I’m a man and a camel short.”
“A camel short, you mean,” the man said with a shrug. “I’m available for hire and would be glad to work for nothing more than the right to travel with you. You know these lands; I don‘t.”
“And I would hire you, as I can’t say I was fond of Djadao, but the camel can’t be so easily replaced.”
“If Djadao’s mount could carry him,” Mshai interjected, “It can certainly carry two normal-sized men.”
Remmao paused, eyeing the newcomer.
“Very well, but we don’t even know your name.”
“Amen.”
“The hidden one?” Mshai asked. “You name yourself as our light even as he watches? Have you been driven mad?”
“I would be more concerned with the madness of the sun, were I as superstitious as you. Wouldn‘t my own sanity be second?”
“Granted. You stand unpunished, but Ra never gifts mortal men audience.”
“I guess, then, you‘ll never meet him,” Amen said, smiling.
Amen grabbed the reigns of Djadao’s camel and coaxed the beast to sit before mounting and gesturing for Mshai to join him. Mshai tested his scimitar in its sheath before climbing onto the camel’s back behind him.
Remmao shook his head in disbelief before setting off towards Memphis.
###
Hidden on a small rise above the trio, a diminutive doll lay half-buried, its tiny hands clutching at the sand as if seeking foundation against the brutal wind that whipped the nearby dunes into a funnel.
“Follow them,” the storm’s voice howled.
###
The desert shifted beneath Kashin, almost with sentience, waiting for the moment it could fell him. Voices of the tempest whispered in his ear, each too shrill to be deciphered before passing. An endless field of sand surrounded him on all sides, dunes the only varying feature. A golden crown beset by darkness had already risen on the horizon. The sun was only moments from revealing itself. Phantom pain coursed across his flesh as he gazed upwards, precursor to the inferno that would soon come.
Taure? Is this your revenge? Am I to die by the sun?
With a violent shudder, the earth opened and grasped his foot, toppling him. Death’s stench burned its way into his nostrils. A hippo’s bloated corpse was unveiled as the wind cleared sand from atop it, its side ripped open to reveal a gaping cavity. A human skeleton lay curled into a fetal position in a corner of the animal‘s belly, its boney fingers pointing towards the corner opposite it as if to welcome company. The corpse had been stripped, its attire folded neatly beside it. Rotted flesh clung to its bones, sickly pink and dried from the sun--too far gone to tell whether it belonged to man or animal.
With one final, challenging glance in the sun’s direction, he crawled into the beast’s belly and the sand closed around him.
###
The streets of Memphis were crowded well into the early morning.
Amen had to shove his way through the mass of people to catch up to his companions, who had stopped outside a dwelling he took to be Remmao’s home. Made from stone, it stood out next to the mud brick hovels surrounding it. He imagined the flat roof of its second floor would provide a view of the city’s inner districts. From where he stood, he could see the imposing structures of the city’s palaces and temples, the largest of which was Ptah’s.
Following Remmao and Mshai inside, he closed the door behind him and secured it with a metal bar. In contrast to its plain exterior, the inside of the house was richly decorated, a testament to its owner’s success. While sparse when it came to furniture, the floors were tiled with black marble and the walls were painted with a detailed timeline showing the daily life of a priest. Amen stopped in front of a scene depicting the priest kneeling, head bowed in afternoon prayer. In the doorway behind him, the silhouette of a man stood watching. The eyes of the watcher were bright gold and glowed, though the rest of his body was cast in shadow.
“Who is the man in the door?” Amen asked, turning to Remmao.
“Ptah.”
“This is meant to be the avatar of the city’s patron, overlooking his priest?”
“No,” Remmao said, stepping to the wall and pointing. “Notice the blood on the priest’s robe? The tears in the cloth? That man isn’t a follower of Ptah. He murdered the true priests and Ptah is there to bring justice.”
“It took courage to paint something this offensive in the city where the Artificer is patron.”
“I’m a merchant, not an artist. This house was owned by a woman named Djeserit before I purchased it. She was lynched to death by a local mob.”
“Many find courage only in number,” Amen sighed, his voice cracking momentarily. “Why did they kill her?”
“Blasphemy. These paintings. She fashioned herself a prophet. Some believed she really had the gift of sight, but she went too far when predicting the slaughter of Ptah’s cult. Needless to say, she was wrong. No one has been brazen enough to even attempt massacring those in the temple.”
“She never said when it would happen?”
“Not that I know of. They were more interested in seeing to her death than in preserving her prediction.”
Nothing has changed, Kashin, a voice whispered in Amen’s mind. Those who dwell within Ineb Hedj still cling with single-minded fervor to Ptah’s teachings, accepting nothing that might contradict or threaten their beliefs. Enlighten them.
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”...skid to a halt.” = skidded?
”...face the animal with a growl.” ...the phrasing is awkward, because at first I pictured the animal having the growl – maybe another word work work better in this instance. Scowl?
“Gripping its neck with one hand and its hump…” is this really how camels are mounted? Plus, if you use this, you should probably be more specific about this particular ‘hump’ because they are all different and you want the reader to have a good image. I think losing this part and sticking with ‘he mounted his camel’ to keep it simple and the visual will remain consistent.
”..to make the earth tremble’ this feels unrealistic; I know what you mean, but everything is so straightforward that this impossibility stands out (as it does again later and ‘the ground shook’). Also, wouldn’t they be in the sand? Taking the camels into account and all, I’m picturing a desert; it would absorb the shock of these falls, and it would not tremble or shake beneath any manor camel.
“dust of cloud” = dust-cloud? Sand-cloud (sounds more abrasive)?
“No, corpse!” ...I don’t get this part. Did I miss something?
”...and he threw himself…” maybe rephrase?
”...his entire body was covered.” Maybe say ‘the man’s entire’...it took me a second to figure out who was covered.
“The robe’s hood was draped…” The hood of the robe? Also, maybe lose the ‘was draped’...just, ‘the hood flowed with the wearer’s movements, just enough to keep the face hidden.” or the likes…
“You know these lands; I don‘t.” maybe replace the semi with an em dash…maybe even a comma would work. Maybe someone should be more suspicious of a man who will work for free – after killing a man and opting to take his place. No-one sees an ulterior motive?
”...but the camel can’t be so easily replaced.” Why? Can’t they just use the dead guys? Yes, because they go on to decide that. This seems like a moot conversation. “Okay, grab that mount and let’s get moving.” would be so much easier. The ‘two normal-sized men’ comment confuses. Oh…so they are sharing a mount? Perhaps make this clearer in the opening. That was not the image I had in my mind, so that was all just shattered for me.
“Remmao shook his head in disbelief…” why?
“Hidden on a small rise above the trio…” this whole segment was very nice – ominous, foreboding, confirming…very well done.
I think the Hippo being in the middle of the desert causes the mind to wander. I am clear that Tauret was sometimes depicted as a hippo, but I’m not too sure if the common reader would be. A camel would be the more common animal to do this in, but…I think I like the risk and the symbolism. I’d probably keep it. Just thought I should discuss those thoughts with ya ;)
Love the skeleton welcoming the company bit!
“too far gone to tell whether it belonged to man or animal.” Not really; a human skeleton is a pretty distinct form. Also, if it had ‘attire’ sitting next to it…well, not many animals wear clothes (or remove them).
”...mud brick…” = mud-brick?
“In contrast to its plain exterior,...” I would have thought that a stone house would be considered extravagant. Either way, if it stood out from all of the other homes, it cold not be considered ‘plain’...’poor’ maybe, but not plain.
Another well-crafted chapter. I would prefer a bit more detail. A man is killed and it didn’t even cause a ripple in the events. He was replaced, so be it. Maybe they didn’t like the man, but that wouldn’t stop them from having a bit more of a reaction. It could at least be a good opportunity to add in some ‘thrill’ to this part of the narrative. A more clear picture of the setting in the beginning would also be desirable.
I don’t think this is too heavily dipped in mythology. Simple fact of the times in which your novel takes place: Myths were religion and everyone was religious. Plus, a lot of your novel appears to be based around mythos and, in fact, crating its own myth. So I feel like the amount of mythology used is necessary, even adds to rather than detracts from the tale. It is very symbolic of everything you appear to be trying to accomplish with this one.
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