Tears for Isis

By Michael J. Costa

Tears for Isis is about an Egyptian Pharaoh, whose quest for glory lands him in Mesopotamia. He stays there for a time, and returns only to find betrayal, love, and enemies at his gate. As the approaching Hittite Empire slowly swallows up his imperial ambitions, Pharaoh Nebakhre also pursues his own hidden past, and the true nature of his mysterious father, the high priest of Seth. This story is unique among other historical fiction titles, and even has an insightful look at the Egyptian afterlife on the other side. Those interested in making a film based on this novel are welcome. Tears for Isis was written by a reborn Ancient Egyptian."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 2, 2001
• ISBN: 9781462833559

Michael J. Costa

“M.J. Costa has written several books, 4 complete novels with 2 incomplete, some scientific books (Maatism I-II) and philosophy. He holds a B.A. in Anthropology/Archaeology from CSU Hayward, and is a practicing Kheri-Heb priest with an Internet Temple of AmonRa. His first fictional novel was Eye of the Pharaoh ©1990 (AKA The Flawed Emerald ©1995). This is his 2nd completed novel, and as most, is set in Ancient Egypt.”

Book preview

Copyright © 1993 by M. J. Costa.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

F O R E W O R D

1 T H E D A R K L O R D.

2 L U R K I N G I N T H E R E E D S.

3 E V I L D R E A M S.

4 S W O R D O F L I G H T.

5 R I V E R O F B L O O D.

6 T H E G O L D E N W H I P.

7 D A R K S E C R E T S.

8 A S I A N C O N Q U E S T.

9 T H E S E A R C H F O R S E T.

10 N E F E R B A.

11 U N F O R T U N A T E M I S G I V I N G S.

12 L U C K O V E R R U L E D.

13 T O T A L D O M I N A T I O N.

14 S U D D E N D E A T H.

15 S H O R T R E I G N

16 T H E H I T T I T E K I N G D O M

17 T H E B A R G E O F O S I R I S

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO: GLENN K. MAR (1972-1990).

MAY HIS SPIRIT LIVE ON.

F O R E W O R D

Time is the light that darkens all evils. One must be prepared to distinguish these evils, for time is limited in the presence of the gods. It is due to the gods that I now speak, for I have traveled over the light and have encountered all the possible demons that one must encounter when time has lost its virtue in the light of darkness.

Empires rise and fall, for they are not founded from the true light of time. Only those who are, will stand for eternity. My former home of the Dark Lands was once a mighty empire, though now it has met its destiny with the merciless wave that time offers to those who seek eternity.

Egypt, Atlantis and others sought to be eternal, but without the eternal knowledge of the light they are no more than castles in the sand. I have met my destiny in the land of the gods, and so my bitter story unfolds into the next light that Man will follow …

1 T H E D A R K L O R D.

I, Nebakhre, am a prisoner of my own actions. For the last decade I have fought a losing battle against the Hittite Empire. I have dealt with evil throughout my entire existence in the land of Kemt, and I have also lost more than just my pride and valiance.

Now, as I sit on a copper stool belonging to a local bar of the Duat and sipping a drink called the Blood of Horus, I can barely recollect my life story for anyone to hear. Across from my table, in the farthest corner of the pub, I can see my ancestors in a social gathering with some of the lesser divinities of the land of Kemt. There is no doubt that they are also awaiting the infamous Barge of Osiris, the master of the departed here in Duat.

I shall now introduce to my audience of divine viewers the painful memories of my past existence with those of the living.

Many generations after the death of the mighty Pharaoh Tutankhamon, there existed a powerful sorcerer and priest of Set by the name of Sethori. Originally he was the second-highest member of the Kher-heb brotherhood of the god AmonRe. A few years had passed before he single-handedly revived the ancient cult of the evil deity called Set. It became known throughout the land that there were such evils slithering in the darkness brought about by this powerful necromancer that even Pharaoh quivered in his golden sandals.

On one occasion, Sethori called upon the demons cultivated by Akhremto-Apopthis to carry out his mission of deterring the armies led by the hated Nasira-Ba, a general of the Persian chariot forces of the tenth Persian dynasty. The creatures consisted of large scorpions and four cubits worth of Asps. It took more than mere splashes of water libations to cure that plague, which spread across the desert sands like a tornado of locusts.

Another time worth reminiscing about was the time when he surgically removed the larvae of a dung beetle from a bull. The larvae was found encircling the heart of the bull, and was next allowed to grow into a full scarab beetle before Sethori blended it into a potion used to extract demonic humors from the ailing princess Neferumin.

During the annual inundation of the Nile, Sethori usually made sacrifices in the name of Set and of AmonRe. These sacrifices used primarily sterile peasant women and recent captives in place of the bulls normally used for dismemberment in the honor of Hapi, the Nile god. The victims were chosen at random and were executed by a direct blow to the head from a gilt mace, while later the appendages were removed and set on fire after the blood had quenched the parched soil of the desert floor surrounding the statue of the god. It is from here that my story begins …

I invoke thee who art in the void air, terrible, invisible, almighty, god of gods … started Sethori, O thou that hatest a household well established. He that destroyest all and is unconquered. I invoke ye to destroyeth all enemies of Set, and to become triumphant in the presence of the evil Horus-of-the-Horizon. The followers of Sethori chanted beneath the altar of their living god while he poured more blood from the coffers and onto the polished sandstone upon which he stood. According to a certain legend, by dumping blood on the ground it somehow arouses the attention of the minions residing in the underworld. These demons would, upon receiving the fluid of the living, leave the underworld and travel into the realm of the living to heed their master’s commands.

Four weeks later a small platoon of Hittite warriors marched past the border of the country and into the forecourt of the temple dedicated to Sethori. All were armed with swords, maces, daggers and poisonous articles about them. While Sethori remained unarmed, the soldiers surrounded him. With one swing of his right arm the sky darkened with ash and soot, thus blocking out the sun. As the army was watching the sky, Sethori quickly released five cases of jackals that dove into the flock of troops causing them to drop their weapons. Soon something bizarre occurred. A large funnel cloud, which had emerged from thin air (and believe me, the air in Egypt was very thin in that time), engulfed the soldiers and scattered their scorched remains about the temple. The corpses resembled the leftovers from a hungry vulture. After this episode, no further soldiers dared to enter the iron gates of Sethori’s temple.

The following week, seventeen captives were presented to the temple as a form of tribute. Sethori used them in one of his greatest, and perhaps one of his last, incantations yet to be challenged. He was attempting to enter into the spirit world and retrieve a souvenir of some sort and perhaps use it for his own purpose. The first captive was laid upon a funerary couch. Sethori gave the person a sedative and waited until it took effect. Next he used an iron razor to open the skin area surrounding the patient’s heart. Taking an aged scarab beetle from the sacred vessel of Amon located in a gilt shrine before him, he gently placed it upon the victim’s still beating heart. A stream of white smoke emitted from the scarab and upon witnessing that, Sethori clasped his hands over the body and chanted mystical words. A loud wail of ancient knowledge burst from his lips as he lurched backwards as if struck in the forehead by a raging animal. The crowd crept slowly towards him as he lay undisturbed. Suddenly, the smoke thickened into an emerald-white column. Sethori stood upright in a second attempt at his plot. He grasped the column of smoke and light and resumed chanting. After one full and impatient minute had passed, a mumble of astonishment escaped his dreary lips. One of his darkened hands had grasped something from the smoke. He revealed to everyone about him in the sunlight a golden ankh with hieroglyphic writing alongside its shaft and ending at the loop. Upon receiving this article, the smoke had vanished as mysteriously as it had arrived.

As Sethori rotated the golden ankh in his hands an idea came to mind: that he could wear this token to the grave and be assured of an eternal afterlife—even without the other priest’s blessings. He strung a linen cord through the loop and placed it about his shoulders. The captive was sown back together by another surgeon who had been standing over Sethori when he fell.

One month had passed. Sethori entered one of the unpriestly pleasure houses, what they call in Duat a bar, and purchased a drink from the tavern’s cellar. Sitting three seats to his right was a slightly beautiful maiden wearing some semi-royal regalia and a long silken gown. She was drinking a wine well known to the noble class as «The Serpent’s Tongue.» She had long flowing hair braided to the side with gold netting. When Sethori’s drink arrived, she glanced at his direction and subconsciously blew him a kiss. It may be noted that most of the girls of royal birth were seductresses regardless if they were aware of their actions at the time.

Upon receiving the aerial affectionate missile, he moved one stool closer to the enigmatic mistress whose eyes nearly drained themselves into the copper goblet she held. The bartender, along with the other customers, left the scene with their jugs of wine and beer.

«It isn’t often that a young and vibrant lass visits a street pub in this side of Thebes,» inquired Sethori.

«Nor is it often that one of the most feared priests of Kemt tries to brighten his day with Pharaoh’s daughter,» remarked the girl. A concealed smile broke across her lustrous lips as she spoke. «So, what brings the great Sethori to my doorstep, or does that actually matter? I would think that a man of your capabilities might resurrect a mummy to share his drink with rather than to interfere with a girl of royal blood,» taunted the girl.

«Would it surprise you that I, too, am of royal descent? I am the son of Set, not of AmonRe as the Pharaohs claim they are from. My family clings to the destructive power that Set brings to his enemies, the same power that Pharaoh wishes for, the same power all nations crave. Of course you need not fear me, for I’ll not focus my lord’s power on Pharaoh’s daughter,» stated Sethori.

«Let’s hope not … ,» she hesitated as four armed guards entered the tavern. The guards approached them, and one whispered something into the girl’s ear. She nodded and told them to leave.

«What was all that about?» questioned Sethori. He finished his drink in one draught.

«Father wants me to return to the palace now. Perhaps we will see one another again sometime. Good night, Sethori.»

«And you as well, my child,» remarked Sethori in a casual manner.

The girl left with the ornate guards to the summer palace in the western district of Thebes. Sethori chose to follow them. The night was closing rapidly over the western hills as Sethori followed the princess to her lavish abode. Two of the guards remained outside to watch while the remaining soldiers escorted her to the throne room to the north. With a quick spasm of his wrist two balls of chemical struck the floor where the guards stood. One guard attempted to investigate the balls when suddenly the balls exploded into a whirlwind of colored smoke. This blinded the guards temporarily, allowing Sethori to wander inside the palace gates.

To his right alongside the central hall was an alligator pit with a heavy bronze grating concealing it. Sethori speculated that this was their garbage disposal.

Sethori continued along the polished stone walkway and saw to his left the Pharaoh’s harem. Ten middle-aged women were inside either playing musical instruments, or dancing around large barrels of grapes. They wore long transparent gowns tied with gold wire and sleek headdresses decorated with colored glass and semi-precious stones. One of the girls held a gilded wooden staff in the shape of the power staves used by the gods. Her eyes were painted with green malachite which glowed by the torches. Sethori took a long glance at her and crept away slowly so as to not disturb them.

The throne room was only a few meters away so Sethori slightly pulled back a linen curtain to allow viewing of the thrones and their occupants. The princess approached her father’s chair of office and bowed slightly to protect her family’s honor. She stood alongside him as he spoke.

«Amummit, have not I told you not to wander outside the palace and go to those hideous houses of drink and mischief?» asked Apophotep.

«I only had one Serpent’s Tongue and I didn’t fall into any mischief,» declared Amummit.

«Ahh … One Serpent’s Tongue is enough for you my young calf. I have seen you try to seduce men upon drinking that hard brew. Did you bring home any men this time?» asked her father. Sethori became nervous at the king’s remark, so he closed the curtains and waited.

Amummit started