Fire & Ice: War Games

‘Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.’
Albert Einstein (1879-1955)



Absorbing the words written beneath the pool’s surface, he washed his face silently. As the water dripped from his face, he traced the ugly, thin pink scars running diagonally down his face and disappearing at the edges of his left eye and the left side of his chin. He smiled as the memory of the scar’s source fluttered in his mind, the image of the albino tiger was one he wouldn’t soon forget.

He glanced over his shoulder at the shaking form of his guide and sneered. Abdul was huddled in the corner near the painted image of the dead figure’s head and was whimpering softly, his eyes closed as he rocked himself. He shook his head in disgust, the dirty boy reminded him too much of his own weakling nephew. Cracking his neck, his thoughts returned to the task at hand. Despite the almost legendary intelligence of his family, he feverishly hoped this was the last of Ravenclaw’s clues.

Fingering a button on his jacket, he studied the scenes depicted on the walls and searched his mind for the scraps of information he retained on the ancient land. “Hey, muggle, what’s an Anhk-Osiris?” He growled at the filthy boy who served as his guide.

“God of the dead.” Seeing the other’s raised eyebrow, his voice steadied a notch before continuing. “Him,” Abdul said pointing to the figure lying on the primitive cot. “After his body was dismembered by his brother, Set, because of jealousy, it was scattered throughout Egypt. His wife, Isis, collected and retrieved his body parts with the exception of his penis. Set had thrown that into the Nile and was eaten by fish. Bringing them to Anubis, his body was reassembled. Mummified and reanimated.”

“Set?”

“God of chaos and the embodiment of evil.”

Smirking, “must’ve been a Slytherin.” He studied the scene before him mumbling, “only Anhk-Osiris can see.” Frustrated and knowing he was missing the obvious, he growled. “Anhk is ...?”

“Life or living.” Abdul replied automatically.

“Only living Osiris can see.” Turning he stared at the opposite wall, his eyes widening. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s It’s the opening of the mouth ceremony. Ancient’s believed you had to release the spirit in order for the soul to travel to the Afterlife and back to their tomb at will. Opening the mouth symbolically of one’s proxy statue, the deceased’s soul was able to escape the eternal entrapment of the body, the shell being discarded as they ascend to the next plane of life.” Abdul shrank back as his companion’s face was suddenly illuminated with a cold smile.

A predatorily gleam flickered in his eyes as he advanced on Abdul. He raised his hand slowly, calling forth the ebony wand from his sleeve once more. “Stupefy,” he hissed and smirked as the boy went suddenly stiff before collapsing into a limp pile on the floor. “There’s a price to be paid and seeing as I must return to my master, logically I cannot pay it myself.”

He leaned over a now conscious Abdul, “thank you ever so kindly for volunteering.” Pulling off three buttons from his jacket, he transfigured them quickly. Picking up the knife, he watched the torch light reflect off the weapon’s blade. “Though I admit, I’m not as intimate with the books as my dear, sweet nephew is. I am quite sure I’ll be able to fumble through what anatomy knowledge I am in possession of.” As an afterthought, “I suspect it’ll be improved by the time the night is done.”

As Abdul’s eyes watered and plaintive whimpers increased, the man slowly raised the sharp edge of the knife towards the guide’s throat. Like a viper, his hands struck Abdul’s head and grasped a fist full of hair before yanking the head backwards, exposing the throat. Abdul cried out as the spell wore off, thrashing his arms in front of him and clawing at the man’s chest. The man laughed, the curdling sound echoing in the chamber and mingling with the crashing waterfall.

His body jerked stiffly as he suddenly froze. Terrorized eyes stared helplessly at the other man as his unresisting body was dragged across the chamber floor by the roots of his hair. Abdul could do nothing but watch helplessly as the man rummaged through his breast pockets. For a moment, Abdul was certain the man would pull out something far worse then the knife. He sighed, for once it seemed Ali had not forsaken him as the man withdrew a small book cased in aged leather no larger then the size of a deck of cards. Abdul felt sick, as though his worst nightmare had suddenly been brought to life as the man began to explain.

Tapping his wand on the miniature text, he muttered an enlargement charm. “Beautiful, is it not? Over several millennia young and passed down through the generations of my family. Actually it’s one of the most prized of our possessions and most dangerous.” His fingers lovingly caressed the leather bindings, “one of my ancestors ‘rescued’ it from Alexandria sometime before the Ptolemaic reign. Most wizards, including the Dark Lord, would kill to get their hands on this.”

Brushing the surface across Abdul’s face, the guide would’ve gasped with surprise if he was able to. Where the eyes told him the leather would be rough, worn from years of use and of existence, his flesh told him it was actually soft and silky smooth. As if reading his thoughts, “smooth as a newborn’s bottom. But then again,” he smiled as a dry laugh escaped his lips. Leaning over Abdul’s head, the ghostly fingers of his hair brushed the guide’s cheek as he whispered in his ear. “As I recall, it was a newborn at that.”

The man snickered as Abdul could feel the sickening nausea rolling in his gut and saw his paling reflection in the other man’s fathomless eyes. The guide shivered inwardly as his companion slowly leafed through the large volume resting on his knee. “While I am not in possession of the greatest memories, the text does however.” Abdul watched as the other man’s fingers caressed the gold-flaked edges of the text’s pages. “As you can sI caI came prepared. Which is always helpful when dueling one’s wits with a Ravenclaw.”

Seeing his captive’s puzzled eyes, “the Book of the Dead.” He said, holding the book high enough for Abdul to see the gold engraving of a familiar eye. Flipping the pages of the ancient tome, he smirked finding the passage he sought. He retreated across the chamber and retrieved the forgotten objects. Once more kneeling next to the frozen form of the guide, his eyes followed the hypnotic tracing of his fingers as he read from the book.

Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes as though preparing himself for an ardors task. “Flesh of old, blood of new.” As he spoke, he carved an eye into his bared wrist and let a generous amount of the crimson liquid flow into the clay bowl. Mumbling a quick healing charm that would only stop the blood flow and not close the incision, he continued. “Osiris, heed my prayer.” As he spoke, the torches flickered throughohe che chamber.

Turning his attention back to the petrified guide, he ripped the other man’s shirt down the middle. “Some prefer seeing their subjects withering, but honestly, I believe you can create more terror and increase the suffering by simply restraining a body. What do you think?” As he spoke, the knife cut into the guide’s flesh, crimson spilled from the incision running the length of Abdul’s body from the collarbone to the pelvis. He pointedly ignored the sunken flesh of the guide’s body as the knife cut. Setting the knife aside momentarily, he slipped his fingers through the slit in the flesh.

Eyes closed, his breathing slowed as he searched through the mass of organs. His face twisted in concentration as his fingers sought their goal. A small smile slowly worked its way onto his lips as the guide’s heart pounded within the confines of his fingers. “So easy,” he whispered opening his eyes. For a brief moment two pairs of eyes met, one full of fear and the other devoid of emotion. The knife sliced through the veins and arteries connecting the organ to the body and placed it in the clay bowl.

For a moment, he watched the life slowly fade from Abdul’s eyes. Retrieving a slender object from beside the bowl, he stood over the body. Touching the balled-end of the slender rod to the guide’s mouth, his eyes lingered on the pages of the text balanced in his left hand. “You are young again. You live again.” Turning to stand before the mural, he placed the balled-end on the mural’s proxy statue. The bowl rattled on the chamber floor as he pointed his wand, “accio.”

Fingers traced the painted statue’s lips with the blood from the clay bowl as he spoke, “thy mouth was closed.” The rod-like implement replaced his fingers at the painted mouth, “I open for thee thy mouth.” Stepping backwards, he smirked as a section of wall shuddered and frowned as the wall remained intact. Grumbling scrascratching his head, he studied the open pages. Sighing, he shook his head in frustration.

“What did I miss?” Rubbing his face, he groaned. His eyes lit up as he noticed the last few lines. Smiling, he placed the instrument onto Abdul’s unseeing eyes. “I open for thee thy two eyes.” Turning to face the mural, he lifted the implement back to the lips of the painted proxy. “The deceased shall walk and speak, and his body shall be with the great company of the gods in the house of the Aged One.” He smirked as the torches flickered before their flames were extinguished. A bright white enthral glow illuminated the chamber.

He watched in pleased amazement as the guide’s body jerked to life before his eyes. Dull eyes watched him as internal organs and blood spilled from the slit in his body. He retrieved a small length of rope from his suit jacket pocket and whispered a transfiguration spell as he flicked his wand over it. A smooth oval amulet on a braided gold chain dangled from his fingers at it was looped about the guide’s neck. The amulet’s engraving burned, illuminating in an intense flash of white before dulling and cooling as it rested on Abdul’s chest.

Ignoring the mess of gore piled at the now zombie’s feet, he smirked. “Bring me what I seek,” he hissed knowing that the ancient spell wouldn’t last long. The guide’s body moved with clumsy jerks as it passed through the unresisting chamber wall.

Black sand crunched beneath the feet of the guide as the automated body stiffly marched on it’s master’s errand. The smooth oval amulet around the guide’s neck glowed, burning the flesh beneath it. Red light illuminated the engraving of the Eye as dark silhouettes crept from the shadows, slowly stalking the lifeless walker. Ghostly apparitions crawled across the sand, strips of rotten flesh clung to their charred skeletons amongst the shredded rags glued to their restless remains. Hollow eye sockets followed the progress of the monotone body staggering through the abyss. Soundless voices, trapped in yearning, pleaded to the unhearing ears of the undead guide.

Yellow eyes calmly followed the stiff movements of the new arrival as a sensitive nose sniffed the stale, putrid air. A canine growl whispered above the rushing waters of the sacred river as black furred ears twitched, catching the softest sounds of the bleak oblivion. Human fingers scratched underneath the furred jaw line of the canine face. Instinct told the slumbering guardian to resume the dust covered duties of a former life, but the arrival’s scent revealed the bittersweet taste of the Eye and the truth, the arrival was undead and therefore beyond his reach. Black furred lips curled back, revealing a row of canine incisors as he snarled with frustration, watching from a distance as the guide passed unscathed.

Black flames, outlined in white, licked the air from their perches hovering above the black sand. Abdul’s body lurched across the spacious abyss, oblivious to the shifting scenery. Bleak darkness gradually gave way to dim rays of light, illuminating the inhabitants of the Black Land huddling in the waning darkness. Sallow, malnourished bodies of young children, many sporting patterns of black and purple spots over their gauntly strewn flesh, tracked the stumbling form frm their perches at the fringes of oblivion.

Vultures lazily watched the reanimated guide trudge past from their perches constructed of wayward bones. Abdul’s numb feet slipped into the steady roar of the flowing waters of the life-giving river, the murky waves quickly swallowing the lifeless guide. Crocodiles swam casually by, oblivious to the guide’s body as it staggered across the river bed.

Abdul’s walking corpse slowly emerged from the murky water, brushing through the reeds the body’s numb feet touched the dry bank. Water cascaded down the length of the undead’s body, pelting the red mud clay of the earth below. The guide’s body lumbered across the unrelenting landscape as the quest drew slowly to a close. The spacious air before the automated corpse shimmered, shuddering as it gave way.




He paced back and forth, impatiently waiting for the guide’s body to return. Knowing only what the book had told him of Egyptian magic, he had taken Abdul’s heart as instructed. He snorted at the thought of the ancient’s believing that the heart housed one’s soul. But seeing the effect on Abdul, he gave that thought a second consideration. The wall shuddered as the guide’s body reappeared in the chamber, his hands held a small silver box the size of a matchbox. Blue and bronze stones outlined the image of a eagle on the box’s lid.

A piece of yellowed parchment fell from the pages as he closed the book. Retrieving it, his eyes widened as he read the writing before stuffing the fragile parchment into his pocket. As his fingers closed around the match sized case, a feeling of pride coursed through him. A warm, almost leering smile stretched across the pale features of his face. Beetle-black eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement as he drew the prize to him, the words scribbled on the parchment flowed back to him.

Though all the world seeks what Atlantica took,
Life goes on without me.

Past where night is day,
In a land were no map can find.


A/N

mother:

*blushes* thanks for your review. I try to do my best and not tell the readers everything, but give them clues. So if the conclusion of one “problem” comes at as a surprise to a reader, then I’ve done my job. But if the reader can predict what the writer is going to write, then the story needs to be re-written. My best advice concerning my writing is this, it comes from a quote that I have. “Life is full of false assumptions.” Mortuary caretaker, Tales From The Hood.

Kemek

Translation from Ancient Egyptian to modern English: The Black Land

Ptolemaic reign

Lasted from 323 - 30 B.C. The founder of this dynasty was a Macedonian who was a general of Alexander the Great and after his death, joined in the division of Alexander the Greats territories. This lineage produced the last Pharaoh of Egypt, the infamous Queen Cleopatra.

Book of the Dead

Was the ‘manual’ for Egyptian mummies and provided spells and prayers for the deceased to enter the Afterlife. So Egyptologist scholars theorize that there once existed a companion piece, The Book of Life. But such yet templates or inscriptions on temple or tomb walls have yet to be found.

Opening-The-Mouth Ceremony

The spell used to reanimate Abdul, is piece from the ceremony the priests would perform during a burial. It can be found in the Book of the Dead.

Horus

Falcon-headed son of Osiris and Isis. Living King God (until Ra was given that title), protector deity and god of justice. Fighting his uncle (Set) after his father’s death (Osiris), he lost an eye. Anubis recovered it and gave it back to Horus, but instead of accepting it, Horus was said to use it to heal the injured and ill. The Eye of Horus became the symbol of physicians and was used to ward off evil.