Wulf the Eternal Warrior
Chapter 3: The Palace

“And what am I to do with this uncouth, white-skinned barbarian?” asked King Den. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the large form that had been thrown before him on the marble floor of the palace, and smoothed his ringleted, dark hair with soft dusky hands.

Amosis the priest spread wide his arms, his serpent staff held out widely to his side. Imploringly? Or commandingly- Amara the queen wondered, running her hands through her long yellow tresses. Intrigues such as infested this southern land of dark-haired, brownish folk of long civilization did not so infect her native land, beyond the sea to the north. She feared this strange priest of an ancient dynasty.

“My king,” quoth Amosis in a deep, commanding voice, “this barbarian of the uncivilized north has killed Kos, god of Kemet! Death is far too merciful for such a creature- Ma’at is the justice of the gods, to weigh the scales of truth and falseness equally, and determine the scales of justice in weighing the crime. The murder of sacred Kos is an ultimate crime- demanding ultimate penalty! Burning Alive is the will of Isis, and the justice of Ma’at!”

“Ah, well, I suppose it must be so,” said the king, looking at himself in a small glass, and adjusting his makeup of kohl into a more pleasing shape about his dark almond eyes. He smiled, briefly, at his reflection, and then continued. “Burn him, but I want to watch!”

There was an avidness about the king’s countenance that was repellant as he spoke, revealing how much he would enjoy such a spectacle. His race had been civilized for so long, even now in the infancy of civilization had Kemet been civilized, that even thus early on they were becoming decadent. King Den and his courtiers were already enjoying the shedding of blood- torture for its own sake- and were intent on punishing; especially doing so to those who were outside of their laws- Innocents were especially desirable!

Amara looked on this scene with supreme loathing. In her native land of the Hellenes, men fought for their own honor, man-to-man- her husband, the makeup-wearing, foppish King Den would have been flogged out of principal. She could not believe that her warrior father had sent her to wed such a lesser type of mankind, and resolved right then to escape and return to her birthright in a more northern land.

Amosis, making an imprecation that was unintelligible to such as the hellenic Amara, nevertheless gained the attention of her husband and those courtiers about him. They were awestruck, and placed their arms crosswise across their chests protectively, as the priest held out his staff, which raised the body of the unconscious barbarian up into the air, and then into a large, barred cage behind the throne of King Den.

The iron door slammed shut, and Den clapped his hands. “Oh- how did you do that? I loved it!” said the king.

Amosis the priest, enigmatic as always, looked at his king with ill-disguised disgust. “I have the barbarian saved for the morrow. For slaying Kos, his suffering will be prolonged beyond belief, and I shall offer up his pain to the gods of Kemet, who are surely sorrowing this night at their loss of Kos, as am I.”

The priest’s eyes narrowed even more, and their yellowish-brown light seemed to radiate outwards from their slanted orbs. “Tomorrow, pain and suffering will gain a new meaning! This sorry light-skinned, tawny haired carcass before us will be reduced to less than carrion- and then cry out for death.”

A bright golden light, suffused with shots of bright crimson shot out as he spoke, and then he left the chamber in a swirl of dark robes. King Den and his courtiers clapped in delight, and retired to their anteroom for drinking and repartee.

Queen Amara looked at the unconscious Wulf with burning green eyes, in his heavy-barred cage, and felt a strong calling to her native ancestral identity- he was not a Hellene, but he was probably, she surmised, the ancestral tribe they had sprung from…

Wulf awakened, instant consciousness flooding his brain. He was in a cage, bars surrounded him, and he was directly behind the throne of his enemy, the king of Kemet- King Den! He thought instantly of the dying Chara, the beautiful woman who had sacrificed herself for him, and felt only impotent rage- how could he wreak vengeance whilst caged like a beast?

He grasped the bars of his bronze cage, and pulled with all the power of his mighty frame. The heavy bars bent- but that was all. They were as thick as his forearm, and would not break, despite his mighty strength. Amosis had planned his prison well.

The light pad of feet approached, and Wulf looked into the face of Amara, the blonde haired queen of king Den. His blue-grey eyes blazed into her own of emerald green, with defiance.

She spoke: “You are destined for incredible pain, and then death.” Wulf looked at her with interest, he knew she spoke truly- but why?

Sweeping back her curling yellow tresses, she looked deeply into his eyes. “Will you live? Will you deliver me from this place, and so gain your freedom?!”

He stood erect. “Name your price, just so I be free!” He quivered in the intensity of his emotions, so desirous of escaping this bronze cage was he.

“I need to escape to my native Hellas- the land of my birth. My father had no idea of the true nature of these folk of Kemet- if you swear you will return me there, to my ancestral home, I will set you free- but only if you so swear. I am sick of this land of long-time civilization, where men have become as women, and women are even less- I want to return to a place where men are men, and women are women, and government has scarcely been invented! Will you help me?”

Her beautiful face reflected her agitation; in an instant Wulf realized the endless degradation, and humiliation she had experienced since she had been sold into the royalty of Kemet. A warrior woman inserted into a male dominated culture of quasi-males that were, well, not really true males such that she was used to.

“You are what I recognize as my own- not these soft-handed fools that my father foolishly married me off to!” She was looking intensely into Wulf’s eyes, and gripping the bars of his cage as intensely as he was himself. “Help me kill the evil priest, Amosis, and gain the shores of Hellas again, and I will set you free!”

Red highlights gleaming off of his shoulder length mane, Wulf nodded, briefly. But the sheer intensity of his burning gaze was all the reassurance that she needed. With a sure tread, she retreated behind the twin thrones, and retrieved a key, which she then turned in the lock containing the barbarian.

Wulf emerged from his cage abruptly, and confronted his liberator: “If you play me false, you will die as surely as your soft-handed husband.”

“Why would I have set you free, if I had so designed?” she said. “I am of folk such as you- we only need to be free of such over-civilized lands- such treachery is not in our very nature!”

The northman looked at her, and knew she spoke truly. She was of the fair-haired folk, and so was kin to him and his kind. Her beauty was of the plain-spoken, direct kind; not the twisting deceit practiced by those of the darker races- he trusted her as one of his own.

“Well, let us together kill the evil priest, and as many of the others as we can!” said Wulf. Amara gestured to him, and they both walked away from the cage in the throne room, and out towards the outside.

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