The First Ark: Deathless Prequel Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue- Zep Tepi

  Chapter 1- The First Ark

  Chapter 2- Tragedy

  Chapter 3- Chamber of the Gods

  Chapter 4- Ka

  Chapter 5- The Conduit

  Chapter 6- The Mutagen

  Chapter 7- Ka-Ken

  Chapter 8- Salvation

  Chapter 9- Damnation

  Chapter 10- Hope

  Chapter 11- Despair

  Epilogue

  Note to the Reader

  THE FIRST ARK

  Chris Fox

  This novel is fiction, except for the parts that aren't.

  Copyright © 2014 Chris Fox

  All rights reserved.

  To Kathy. You are and will forever be The Mother.

  Prologue- Zep Tepi

  Ancient Egyptian ruins speak of Zep Tepi, a time in the distant past when gods walked alongside mankind. It began in the wake of a great flood that drowned the world, leaving but few survivors to reclaim their world.

  They speak of mighty Osiris, the king of the dead. His wife and sister Isis, mother of Pharaohs and goddess of magic. Their cruel brother Set, god of violence and chaos.

  Legends speak of Set's treachery, of his anger and jealousy at all his brother Osiris possessed. In his infinite rage, Set ambushed Osiris and struck him down. He butchered his brother's body, scattering its pieces to the corners of the world.

  Isis was horrified by the death of her beloved and used her potent magic to gather the pieces of his body. She returned Osiris to half-life, a state where he was neither living nor dead. He became the Lord of the Underworld, the guardian of the distant west. Osiris took his revenge on his brother Set, driving his treacherous kin into the wilderness where he seethed with ever more rage and jealousy.

  The Egyptians believed that these three gods were directly responsible for the creation of their culture, that they led the first tribe to the river of life. The Mighty Nile. They do not know from what faraway land their gods came from, or just how old they were.

  That mystery has been lost to time. One can only guess at the truth.

  Chapter 1- The First Ark

  24,000 BCE, Central England

  Isis huddled in a small gully with the last survivors of her tribe, shivering beneath layers of crudely stitched fur. Fat flakes of snow fell from the sky, dusting them all in a thick layer of white. They needed to find shelter soon, or they'd no longer need to fear their pursuers. The land would claim them.

  "How much longer will that take? We cannot be here when night falls, or we will leave nothing but our own corpses for our pursuers," Sobek growled. He was short, but stocky. Arms thick with muscle from launching spears on many hunts. He cradled one such in his right hand, the flint still as sharp as the day he'd shaped it. The snow had painted his bristly beard white and Isis could not help but smile. His appearance made it difficult to take his words seriously, despite their dire situation.

  The man he'd spoken to looked up calmly with gray eyes, Osiris, her mate. His hair was also dark, though it was more brown than black. His beard was shorter but just as tangled as the other man's. It too had been painted white. He struck deftly at a flint core with swift, sure, strokes. It was nearly complete, a perfect fit for the yew shaft propped against the rock face next to him. If Sobek's words alarmed Osiris, he did not show it. "If Set and his followers catch us and we are unarmed then we will be just as dead. My last blade was lost saving your life, Sobek."

  The heat in his words worried her. Osiris only showed anger when he was afraid, and in this instance he had cause. Set had abandoned their ways and joined with the flesh eaters. If they were caught it meant more than death. It meant being eaten alive.

  "Patience. We have time yet," Isis said, hoping her words would cool both men's fire since the snow would not.

  "Precious little of it," Sekhmet said, rising from a bundle of furs piled between two rocks. She towered over Isis's comparatively tiny form. Her long, red hair bound with a simple leather cord. She too carried a spear, one of the few women accepted into the hunters. She was Isis's near sister. More than that, she was her closest friend. "They've dogged us for many days now. I still do not understand why Set is so persistent. Osiris, you are chieftain now. We will follow where you lead, but Sobek is not wrong."

  "I know, Sekhmet," he said, without looking up to meet her gaze. "That is why you will head to the top of the ridge and see if we are still pursued. Silently, like a cave lion."

  The flame-haired warrior scrambled up the hillside in near silence, kicking loose little drifts of snow as she ascended. She was out of sight in seconds, moving with a grace Isis knew she could never possess.

  "You know as well as I that our pursuers have not given up. What did you not wish her to hear?" Sobek rumbled. He folded his arms and stared a challenge at Osiris.

  Osiris didn't answer, didn't address the challenge in any way. He turned to Isis, meeting her gaze. The love was fierce there, the need to protect her. Yet it was suborned by his need to protect the tribe, as well it should be.

  "Isis, you speak for the spirits. The Valley of Hidden Voices is close. Will the spirits protect us if we enter?" Osiris asked, striking a final flake from his new blade and then affixing it into a notch cut in the top of the spear shaft. He applied a thick glue she'd blended from amber and animal fat, then wrapped the shaft in a leather strip.

  "You cannot mean to enter," Sobek hissed, eyes narrowing as he took a step toward Osiris.

  Osiris uncoiled like a viper, the tip of his new spear resting against Sobek's throat before the smaller man could react. "I am chieftain now, Sobek. Not your rival. Not your far brother. Your chieftain. You will abide by my decision, or we will take your meat to sustain the tribe."

  "I am sorry, Osiris," Sobek said, shrinking away from the newly made stone blade. He was a strong warrior, but there was a reason Osiris had become chieftain and not he. "But surely there is another way. If we go there, we will be damned. No one returns from the Valley of Hidden Voices. It is cursed."

  "Yes," Osiris said, pulling his weapon from Sobek's throat. He began wrapping furs around himself, clearly preparing to depart. "Isis, I would hear your words on this."

  He turned to address her. Isis considered carefully before answering. The Valley was a dark place, one even the spirits feared. They held no power there. "The spirits will offer us no protection. If we enter the Valley, we do so at great peril."

  "If we do not, then we are all dead," Osiris snapped. He seemed on the verge of saying more, but Sekhmet's silent form dropped into the camp.

  "They pursue us still. They will be upon this place not long after the sun sleeps," she said. She studied Osiris's preparations for departure. Then she began gathering her own furs.

  "All of you need to decide right now if I am truly your chieftain," Osiris said. He straightened, his gaze roaming their assembled faces.

  "We go where you go," Sekhmet said simply.

  Isis answered by reaching up and squeezing Osiris's arm. The flesh was cold and she knew hers was just as cold. They had bare hours before they succumbed to the land.

  "You are my chieftain," Sobek snarled. He seized the last of his furs and threw it about his shoulders. "If you wish to doom us with this madness, that is your right."

  The long, low trumpet of a horn split the gathering dusk, still distant but far closer than it had been just a day before. That silenced the assembled group. They moved into a loping run as one, departing the gully and winding their way between two hills. How long they ran, Isis wasn't sure. She gave herself fully to the activity, loping through the foots
teps pressed into the snow by the others ahead of her.

  Clarity returned when the assembled group reached the crest of a tall hill. Isis turned in a wide circle, looking out over ring of hills covered by mighty glaciers. In their center stood the Black Mountain, the very reason the Valley was so feared. It towered over the glaciers, each slope unnaturally smooth and bare of snow as if the unholy place refused to accept winter's touch. Her mother's mother had told her stories, but they captured neither the majesty nor the foreboding of the place.

  "Spirits below," Sekhmet breathed. She raised a trembling finger, pointing at the mountain.

  Osiris began picking his way down the icy slope without a word. The others followed, with Isis bringing up the rear. Her gut knotted as she darted quick glances at the Black Mountain. Even staring at it seemed wrong, as if so doing might draw its attention.

  Her heart beat more swiftly as they reached the Valley floor and moved toward the mountain. It loomed before them, still visible as the last light of the sun fled the sky. The moon cut a hole in the clouds, bathing the awful structure in her light.

  Osiris had stopped near a cave in the side of the mountain, its walls cut at sharp angles just like the slopes. Sobek and Sekhmet drew up short next to Osiris as Isis forced herself forward. She yearned to flee as she drew even with the others, but loyalty to her tribe restrained her.

  The shadows at the mouth of the cave stirred as a figure emerged. It was short like Isis but much broader of shoulder and had a heavy brow that overshadowed its eyes. Thick, dark eyebrows gave it a brutish look, though its eyes glittered with intelligence.

  The stranger approached slowly, raising a hand to beckon them forward. Its other hand clutched a staff that shone in the moonlight, a magical thing that could not be more different than the carved branch Isis bore. The head of the staff bore strange symbols, etched into the body of a golden scarab with wide wings arcing smoothly over it. It was unmistakably an artifact of the gods, though Isis had never seen one before. No one had. But the legends had survived.

  Set into the center of the scarab was a gem the size of her fist, the color of ice. Perhaps she was snow-blind, but it seemed to pulse with its own light. Curious.

  Osiris was the first to move, taking several steps closer. He clutched his spear tightly, keeping himself between the stranger and his companions. "Greetings, Old One. Your kind is rare. I have not seen one such as you since I was a child."

  The stranger said nothing, instead taking several steps back into the pyramid and beckoning for the others to follow. Osiris did so, then the others. Isis forced her feet to obey, taking a step into the horrible cave. She felt as if she were entering the throat of some great beast, and some part of her knew that if she emerged she would never be the same.

  Chapter 2- Tragedy

  Isis had only made it a few feet into the strange cave with its too smooth walls before her body betrayed her. She could not force herself even a step further, despite seeing Osiris and the others disappear into the gloom. She darted a glance over her shoulder, wondering if she should take her chances with the cold.

  That glance saved her life. Figures moved in the gathering darkness, trotting closer through the swirling snow. The lead figure was familiar, tall and strong like his near brother. Set mirrored Osiris in nearly every way, but where compassion and duty could be found in her chieftain's eyes these things were simply absent in Set.

  Set gave a snarl, cocking his arm and hurling the spear in one smooth motion. Isis's eyes widened as it streaked toward her like a diving hawk. She tumbled backwards as the weapon passed a finger's width from her face. The weapon continued its flight, drawing a line of sparks from the wall of the cave as the flint tip exploded.

  "Kill them," Set roared, turning to some dozen followers. "Kill them all."

  Isis sprang to her feet, holding her staff protectively before her as she backed further into the cave. Then she turned and ran. Whatever terrors this place held paled compared to death at Set's hand. His warriors were starving, and right now she was the closest prey. They would divide her flesh and crack her bones before her blood had cooled.

  Osiris and Sekhmet were already making their way cautiously back toward her. Both cradled their spears, ready for combat. Sobek lurked behind, reluctant but still armed and ready.

  "Set?" Osiris asked as she skidded to a halt near him.

  "Yes," she said, stepping behind Sekhmet and Osiris. She would only make their job more difficult if she were involved in the fighting. As a shaman, she'd never been trained for such things. "They'll be on us in moments."

  Isis gasped as she spotted movement further into the cave, but relaxed when she realized it was the stranger that had guided them inside. He stood silently, face impassive as he watched them. Either he didn't have a language or didn't understand theirs, but he looked as if he wished to say something.

  "Ready yourselves," Osiris called.

  Isis stepped closer to the wall, kneeling as she withdrew her belt knife. The cold flint was reassuring, worn smooth from years of use. It had been one of Osiris's first courting gifts.

  Sobek moved to Osiris's left. Sekhmet stood resolutely on his right. The three took up most of the corridor, but it was still possible someone might slip past them. That was where she came in. If anyone made it past she would have to deal with them, or the others would be encircled. Given their opponent's numbers that would mean certain death.

  If they could hold Set and his men, they might kill enough to drive them off. At the very least they could sell their lives dearly.

  "Osiris," Set's voice boomed through the strange cave. He stepped from the shadows, eyes glittering in the near darkness. A knot of figures waited behind him. "You have nowhere left to run. You should have accepted my rule, near brother. There is no need for you to die. Even now I would accept your allegiance. Kneel. We will take Sobek's meat to sate our hunger, but you and the women will live."

  "You rule through terror and intimidation," Osiris replied, feet sliding apart as he raised his spear. "It is not the way. Father's spirit watches, Set. He knows what you have become. That you have discarded our ways. We do not take another's meat, unless there is no other way for the rest of the tribe to survive. You killed a man for a feast. His life snuffed out so you could host a celebration."

  "My rule, or death. Last chance, Osiris," Set said, tone deathly cold. He too had raised his spear, and with that motion the knot of figures divided. Men and women advanced up the corridor, each cradling a spear or stone axe.

  "Death," Osiris said. He rolled his neck, unlimbering for combat. "I will not meet it alone, once brother. You will join me."

  "Will I?" Set asked, eyes twinkling as he stepped aside. He turned to his followers. "Kill them and eat your fill. All I require is the heart of Osiris. The rest is yours."

  Then the chaos began. A dozen feral warriors rushed them, mad with hunger and bloodlust. Osiris glided forward, spear darting out to take a man through the eye. Sobek's broad shoulder caught a woman in the stomach, knocking his taller opponent back into her fellows.

  Sekhmet merely waited, languid and unconcerned. It wasn't until her first opponent was close enough to strike that she began the lethal dance that had earned the respect of every hunter. It happened so quickly Isis didn't even see the blow that caused the man to stumble back clutching at his entrails.

  It was a valiant defense, but their foes were numerous. The horde pressed forward and a wiry man with gray in his beard ducked past Sekhmet on the right. He paid no attention to Isis, a fatal mistake. She crept forward, ramming her blade into the small of his back again and again in quick thrusts. The man tried to turn, but she moved with him, thrusting twice more before he collapsed in a pool of his own blood.

  She looked up when Sobek gave a bellow of pain. The stocky man spilled to the ground with a spear lodged in his thigh. Another warrior surged forward to capitalize on his weakness, but Osiris leapt over an opponent's low thrust and rolled toward their downed compa
nion.

  He brought up his spear just in time to block the attack that would have claimed Sobek's life, then kicked hard at the attacker's groin. The man stumbled backwards, but not quickly enough. Sobek lurched to his feet, ripping the spear from his thigh and shoving the tip deep into his opponent's gut.

  Just like that the press was over. Set's warriors fled, disappearing back into the darkness. Isis and her companions labored to catch their breath, the mix of cold and hunger having rapidly sapped their strength. It would have affected Set's men just as fiercely, though they'd fed more recently.

  "Are you hurt?" Osiris asked, turning to face her.

  He never saw the spear and she wasn't quick enough to cry out a warning. The weapon bit deeply into his back, punching through his chest near the heart. Osiris collapsed to his knees with a groan, hands gripping the blood-slicked haft.

  Isis caught one brief flash of Set's triumphant smile, then the treacherous snake retreated into the darkness with his cowardly men. She was dimly aware of Sekhmet darting past on her right. Her near sister snatched up a discarded spear, skidding to a halt as she brought it to her ear. The tip was absolutely still as she scanned the retreating shadows.

  Then she lunged, hurling the yew shaft in the direction Set had retreated. It disappeared, immediately followed by a roar of pain. She knew that voice, knew it like the name of death.

  "It was not a killing blow," Sekhmet said, snatching another fallen spear and moving to aid Sobek. "We must move swiftly before they gather their courage. They are hungry. They will return soon, once they are sure we have retreated."

  "I can't leave him like this," Isis replied, knowing she had no other choice. A single hot tear slid down her cheek as she knelt next to Osiris. His mouth worked as he met her gaze, but he was incapable of speech. She pulled his head to her bosom, blood soaking through her furs. It was already cooling. "Oh, my love. I am so sorry."