Rise of the Boy King: Lost in Time (Beings Within the Myth)

By A. K. Solimov

Two boys discover their historical roots the hard way. Dominic and Sebastian are two twelve-year-old boys living on a hilly point of a bush-clad land in Coromandel, New Zealand. The land is abundant with wildlife and fruit orchards.

When a strange circular shape mysteriously appears in a local maize field, Dom and Seb investigate. But something terribly powerful occurs, and the boys vanish into thin air.

They find themselves not only on the other side of the planet but also over three thousand years back in time!

Egypt, the superpower of the ancient world for ten centuries, is in disarray. On the brink of invasion by the Hittites, the rebel Amarna king has begun his journey in the afterlife, leaving his son, a twelve-year-old boy to be crowned as pharaoh of all Egypt.

But he has also vanished.

Can Dominic and Sebastian prevent political assassination and survive the perils of ancient Egypt? Will they ever get home? Find out in this adventurous, action packed first edition.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris NZ
• Release date: Nov 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781499099461

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by A. K. Solimov.

Library of Congress Control Number:     2017905839

ISBN:                  Hardcover                978-1-4990-9948-5

                             Softcover                 978-1-4990-9947-8

                             eBook                       978-1-4990-9946-1

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 02/15/2018

Xlibris

0-800-443-678

www.Xlibris.co.nz

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CONTENTS

Prologue

2011 Home

The Crop Circle

Egypt 1333 Bce

Dominic

Akhetaten

Coromandel

29 March 2011

Lady Kiya

To Egypt!

Son Of A Rebel King

The Nile

The Coronation Battle

Leaving Egypt

1333 Bce

Chapter 14

Trouble In Paradise

Lost In Time

Hope

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Time present and time past are both present in time future. Time future is contained in time past. I am calling you, to fulfil unfinished works, to answer unsolved questions. You will acknowledge and address these till completion, so our generations can connect time past with time present and live on as whole beings within the myth

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Sebastian turned his head one way then the other. He was surrounded by a stark, flat expanse of white sand glaring with intense light. A yellow lizard scurried speedily across a small slope, legs splayed out in crazy angles. Although the landscape looked like sparkling snow and ice, the white sand was boiling to touch. What’s this? Where am I? Sebastian croaked, picking up the shard of pottery that had cut his now heavily bleeding leg.

It looked ancient, with faded marks etched on it. He put the shard in his shorts pocket and called out, trying to stand up. His voice sounded as dead as the land around him. Putting all his weight onto his good leg, Seb stood up shakily waiting for his head to clear.

He couldn’t define between sky and land, the distant horizon was obscured in a hazy white glare. A cough rasped his arid throat as he tried to call out.

Dom, Dominic . . . Dom?

The scream of a broad winged vulture high above was his only reply.

PROLOGUE

A lone human figure walks purposefully, silhouetted against pastel pink and orange near the horizon. Stark flat expanses stretch all around him, empty, lifeless. His lean muscular limbs swing as he strides like a cross-country skier. His round yet sculpted faced turns this way and that, dark chocolate eyes squint intensely, brow furrowed in concentration, slowly scanning, but he cannot detect a source of light overhead in the cloudless, ruby red atmosphere or anywhere.

He knows he’s in the right dimension but he really hasn’t a clue where to locate Almighty Solan. By habit he runs his olive translucent hands through thick dark hair. Tiny crystals beneath his bare feet reflect red hues from the empty sky in an otherwise flat and featureless landscape.

He used to look like this, maybe not as handsome, but this body is all an illusion. His eyes do not see, his feet aren’t touching the ground. Many souls make these light bodies, because they can.

He has been dead for three thousand, three hundred and forty years. What we think of as dead, but in reality he exists in a higher vibrational state or dimension.

A young man assassinated on the physical plane of Gaia, by people who knew him, evil people who conspired in deceit and crime to enable their own ultimate power. He knows it and it consumes him, even in death.

2011 HOME

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Opiki, Kirehe Point, Coromandel, New Zealand

I’m jumping! ‘jumping, jumping, jumping’

A deep, yet childlike voice echoes around the hills of an estuary. Sebastian stands atop a huge, round outcrop of rock resembling a trio of elephants. Frowning, he grunts angrily, striking the rock with a long stick. Golden afternoon sun glistens on the water far below. All is still and quiet, just twittering of birds and the occasional crowing of Nino’s rooster a hundred feet above.

A voice chatters inside Seb’s mind…

‘This is perfect, I’ll be totally mangled when I hit those rocks, They’ll be sorry they harassed me about homework, stupid chores and my lost jacket when all I wanted to do is be left alone, just chill out, for a moment!’

Assholes! His voice echoes around the harbor and Sebastian imagines his parents crying, feeling sorry they were nasty to him as they see his body crumpled on the rocks below.

He recalls the argument just minutes before, when he stomped out of the cabin, up the hill, passing his grandmother without so much as a Hi Nino.

He was doing fine, after a stressful day at school, proudly containing his anger, until mamma nagged him about homework and papà joined in, demanding that he do his chores before being allowed to play his computer game. Couldn’t they see Sebastian’s frustration level was at bursting point? He sits, chin resting on his drawn up knees, grasping his favorite fighting stick, the type he used to use to spar with his older brother Jordan. He misses Jordan, in his second year of an engineering apprenticeship in Wellington. He misses his old home, especially his old school mates.

He stands up on the edge and screams.

Why’d we have to move here anyway?

His echo croaks back at him, bouncing off high cliffs across the water; ‘anyway, anyway!’

In a fit of utter despair, Sebastian hurls the stick as far as he can, almost dislocating his arm. Struggling to regain balance, he stumbles, lurching forward towards the sheer eighty meter drop. Instinctively he drops to his knees, turning, grasping desperately to avoid sliding off the smooth basalt rock.

Blood roars through his brain, heart pulsating wildly as he lies on his stomach, legs dangling over the edge.

‘That was close.’

He thinks about calling his dog Ash but she obviously hasn’t followed him, sensing his foul temper. Breathing deeply and rapidly, heart thumping a drum solo, he slides carefully away from the edge.

A single tear drops down his dirty face and he suddenly sees himself from another perspective as a voice from Jordan, his big brother enters his head; ‘throwing tantrums are we, losing the plot, being hysterical, being . . . suicidal? Is life really this bad? Let it go.’

Hell, I would never really kill myself, would I? I just get so- Arrghh!

His roar echoes around the harbor.

Sniffing noisily, he holds out his bleeding fingers, shredded from grasping for life on the rock. He lets out a long sigh.

Sunlight suddenly breaks through a cloud and hits him in the face and he is aware of a strange sensation, like he’s being examined by someone, something. ‘What is it with these rocks? Who named them Opiki, was it really Nino?’

Standing there on the boulder Sebastian feels tears slipping out again and hears his brother berating him.

What are you doing man, wake up! Lighten up dickhead!

He sighs.

‘I suppose school in town is okay. He concedes. Teacher’s okay, I’ve got some decent friends in class, people with an IQ above 95, and Evita the Russian girl . . .’

He shuts his eyes and a smile softens his troubled face. He leans back, taking in the endless blue sky.

‘I just feel so powerless, wish I could grow up quick, get a job, own a car, hang out with my mates, freedom . . . at least own a cell phone. Mamma won’t let me have one, and all the kids at school have them, well, at least half my class. Not to mention X-Box. But I’m stuck way out here in the wop-wops with a crappy push-bike and a freakin’ long drop toilet!’

Another huge sigh emanates from his lonesome, trembling body.

‘I miss my brother is all… I’ll ask Dominic over when I see him on the bus.’

He climbs shakily down the steep backside of the boulder like a ladder, backwards and runs up the bush track, emerging from the bush where Nino is still in the garden, planting her vegetables. He greets his youthful grandmother with a kiss on the cheek and peers up through the open ranch-slider at the laptop sitting on her table.

‘Nah, Think I’ll go see if Dom’s home.’ He thinks.

Good idea, you’ve been living here for six months now, playing computer games and mooching around with us, ehh? Go on boy, see your old friend Dominic, time is of the essence.

What? Feigning nonchalance, Sebastian plucks an orange off a fully laden tree beside the cottage, biting through pungent skin to the juicy flesh.

Nino glances from bleeding fingers to facial wince at the sting of orange juice.

Another thing Sebby, stay alive, you’re much more useful that way my darling.

Sebastian chokes on the tart, cool orange.

Hmm, mm. See you later Nino.

Concern shines in her dark chocolate eyes as she gazes after his athletic figure, jogging away. She shakes her long black pony tail and continues to plant seedlings muttering.

I did name the giant boulders Opiki and I’m glad you didn’t fall. A true Egyptian throw-back that boy. Ooooh, so deeply he feels, what a temper! He needs to go surfing, with his friends in the cooling ocean.

Dominic lives in the next valley, a fifteen minute walk through the bush. They used to play together when they were little, when Sebastian’s family stayed at Nino’s cottage for holidays. The two young boys would ramble about the orchards and bush tracks, trying to keep up with their older siblings. A Fantail flits about, following Sebastian through the familiar orange and cherimoya orchards, past fig and walnut trees into a scrubby bush track leading into mature native forest. Down the shady track he follows a little stream cascading into pools of clear water. Shellfish and many good eating fish proliferate in the surrounding estuary and the Pacific Ocean beyond. The skies are ruled by majestic Harrier hawks and pterodactyl-like, screeching Herons. Sacred Kingfishers with aqua-marine plumes fish the waters and myriads of seabirds nest on mangrove islands, squawking late into the night. Possums, pheasants and wild pigs roam the bush as well as fat brown Polynesian rats and Californian quail. Numerous native birds such as comical woodpigeon, melodious Bellbirds, Tuis and White-eyes flit about the bush including the friendliest of all birds, the tiny Fantail. This is a veritable Garden of Eden, an Oasis.

THE CROP CIRCLE

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Bang!!

Dominic knows he’s made a hit when pheasant feathers fly and Ash leaps into the bracken to retrieve the colorful cock.

Cool Dom. Sebastian takes the rifle while Dom wrenches the bird from the growling little dog’s defiant jaws.

I’ll tie it to my pants with this flax. Dom pats the little black and white Fox Terrier and cuts a long sliver of leaf off the shiny flax bush with his new hunting knife.

"Good girl Ash! Good girl." He smiles with pride, both for Seb’s clever dog and his own sharp shooting. Seb carefully reloads the magazine and cocks the rifle on safety and leads up the track, physically aching to do what Dom has just done. With a raised palm he silently signals Ash to walk behind them.

This is their first hunt without an adult since Seb’s uncle Guido gave him the .22 bolt action rifle. Possums, stoats and hedgehogs all threaten the native birds’ existence but plentiful pheasants make good practice. They’ve spent hours setting up the sights and shooting targets. Real bullets now, not just an air-rifle, he’d better not blow this trust. Papà wasn’t keen on him having a gun. After the suicide attempt thing…

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Since his last outburst, Sebastian is learning to control his frustrations from burgeoning into explosive temper. At school if he’s stressed, he’s able to hold it in all the way on the bus, until he gets home. More often now before his parents can set him off he diffuses his emotions by playing outside with Dominic or his townie friends who often visit. You can’t be stressed out in nature.

They spend hours climbing trees, fishing, stick fighting, trying to catch wild turkeys at Trevor Brown’s farm, or sliding down the soft white papa rock stream and getting covered from head to toe in sticky white mud! They often see wild pigs walking across the mangroves at low tide. That’s Sebastian’s dream, to bring home a pig! Papà insists that they respect the fire arms rules he’s taught them; always treat a gun as if loaded, stand behind the shooter, always carry the loaded gun pointing straight down and identify your target beyond all doubt.

As they reach a clearing Ash runs ahead, flushing out another huge cock pheasant. Seb quickly takes aim as it flaps and clucks in noisy panic. He pulls the trigger. Boom!

Did I . . .? The pheasant screams in high pitched agony. Oh go on Ash, get the poor thing! Seb feels sorry as Ash drags in the struggling bird. A smaller brown female pheasant suddenly flies squawking out of the bracken, startling Ash who almost drops her quarry.

It’s hit in the wing. Dom frowns. What shall we do? We’ve gotta put it out of its misery . . . shoot it at this close range? I know, smack its head with the rifle butt, you do it.

Seb shakes his head. Nah no need, just wring its neck like a chook. He grasps the colorful pheasant’s neck with both hands and twists both ways hard. He feels and hears the cracking of bone and gristle.

"Yuck! I feel sick now. You got any more of that flax?"

They saunter proudly down a winding gravel road towards Sebastian’s home, a converted garage nestled on the edge of the sparkling blue estuary in the tiny bush-clad peninsula.

Helena, Sebastian’s tall, raven haired mother, looks lovingly at the two smiling boys as they approach and Ash leaps up, nipping at both dead pheasant’s swinging regal heads. She surveys Dominic, taller and meatier of the two, with thick, blonde hair, dimples and cheeky grey blue eyes. Then Sebastian, lean and wiry with shiny, straight, golden brown hair and intelligent dark chocolate eyes.

Darling rascals.

Out on the porch, the boys take the magazine out of the barrel, put the rifle in its lockable case and pluck some bright blue wing and tail feathers for arrows. Helena expertly slices the breasts and legs off the cock pheasants while they are still warm and drops one floppy carcass for Ash to devour.

The breasts and thighs are the only bits worth eating. She explains while chopping through a leg joint. Even then, you’ve gotta marinate them. Tasty though!

She washes her hands and brings a pile of pancakes out of the oven while Sebastian’s papà shakes off his gumboots and comes inside. He takes off a leather hat revealing kind brown eyes and a dark blonde mullet haircut.

Guess what papà, I shot a pheasant and Dom did too! Seb beams.

I was first! Adds Dom.

Great, we have too many males. That’s two less on the hill. Well done boys, take the males and leave the females if you can, it’s in the ethics code of great hunters. Papà checks that the gun is safely locked away, unloaded.

Yep, they have the best feathers for arrows anyway. Dom munches on his second pancake.

John helps himself to a pancake and sits down.

Mmm, delicious darling, strawberry jam and lemon. He closes his eyes, savoring a large bite, then stares wide eyed at the boys.

Guess what guys? We’ve got crop circles, well, one anyway. S’just a hoax, probably.

A Crop circle, really? Like those in England? Seb looks at his mamma expectantly.

Wow. Helena’s eyes widen. There’s a theory about visitors from outer space, alien beings known as ‘Greys’ who create crop circles to communicate with us. Another theory is that people from other dimensions use the circles as portals to travel back and forwards in time. Like the electro-magnetic anomalies in the Bermuda Triangle where people, even planes and entire ships just . . . vanish. She animates with a fork of pancake disappearing into her mouth.

Pfff. Dom wags his head. I’ve seen pictures of those aliens in a book. Short fellas with big eyes and small mouths, I wonder though, time travel . . .? Pfff

Helena is a proof reader for scientific literature and is obsessed with science fiction. Her eyes light up.

Perhaps it’s both Dom. Aliens from the future. Look, this is all just conjecture, we don’t know anything yet, it’s probably a hoax… but don’t go near it will you, not without me.

Helena regales her enthralled audience with scientific information she’s read.

Sure, some crop circles are hoaxes, created by people, you know, earth people of the present. But, many circles were so perfectly symmetrical and so large that they were only visible from the air or space even, with no sign of damage to the surrounding wheat. And the hoax ones were just bent stalks. The others were made by burning, like with a blowtorch. Hah, you’d think the whole crop would ignite. She gesticulates with her long toned arms.

But there are no wheat fields around here! Seb exclaims while wolfing down his pancake.

I know. Replies John who rolls his eyes at Seb’s apparent inability to chew. "It’s in the maize field down the