Prologue
Above him the sarcophagus lid scraped open, and flickers of blue light blinded his newly awakened sight. Tarreq waited until the sound of stone grinding on stone stopped before he lifted his body into a sitting position. When the last of the blue lights faded out he clapped his hands twice and flames whooshed into the torches bracketing the walls, extinguishing the dark.
The chamber was exactly as he’d left it: sacred engravings covered the stone walls and roof, artifacts jostled scrolls on the cramped table, the remains of a cup of wine was propped on top of the papyrus like a paperweight and it was as if he’d just stepped out for a moment. A sigh escaped his lips as he examined his hand. Unfamiliar lines crisscrossed the parchment-thin skin, and the hair which hung like moss past his breast was white; he’d been in hibernation for a long time.
He wriggled his toes, testing his strength before climbing out of the sarcophagus. He was a big man and the room appeared to shrink when he stepped into it. He stretched, popping underused muscles, but energy surged through his veins and a smile lit his face as his fears of frailty vanished.
Almost skipping, he rushed to the front of the chamber. Unbroken stones, perfectly aligned, sealed the entrance - a sign it was not yet time for him to return to the lands of Keymett. As a student of history he knew what he had to do; he would use this time to prepare by reviewing and memorizing the knowledge stored here, so when they came he’d be ready. Keepers had for many worlds been the last bastion against the loss of an entire civilization’s knowledge. Often the Keeper’s existence was unknown, ensconced within stone monuments, their locations lost to passing memories until they were called upon.
This was not his first world. He had learnt his craft on others but he’d been content to settle here, as there were many similarities in cultures visited or inhabited by the Gods and Goddesses of The Holy Way. He loved the deserts and monuments of Keymett. They reminded him of Egypt, a land worlds away; he’d been lucky enough in his youth to spend time there as a pilgrim.
He didn’t know how long he’d been gone from Keymett’s affairs or what events had hewn from the calamity that had thrust him into exile but the Goddesses had woken him and he knew that meant someone was coming for him.
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Above him the sarcophagus lid scraped open, and flickers of blue light blinded his newly awakened sight. Tarreq waited until the sound of stone grinding on stone stopped before he lifted his body into a sitting position. When the last of the blue lights faded out he clapped his hands twice and flames whooshed into the torches bracketing the walls, extinguishing the dark.
The chamber was exactly as he’d left it: sacred engravings covered the stone walls and roof, artifacts jostled scrolls on the cramped table, the remains of a cup of wine was propped on top of the papyrus like a paperweight and it was as if he’d just stepped out for a moment. A sigh escaped his lips as he examined his hand. Unfamiliar lines crisscrossed the parchment-thin skin, and the hair which hung like moss past his breast was white; he’d been in hibernation for a long time.
He wriggled his toes, testing his strength before climbing out of the sarcophagus. He was a big man and the room appeared to shrink when he stepped into it. He stretched, popping underused muscles, but energy surged through his veins and a smile lit his face as his fears of frailty vanished.
Almost skipping, he rushed to the front of the chamber. Unbroken stones, perfectly aligned, sealed the entrance - a sign it was not yet time for him to return to the lands of Keymett. As a student of history he knew what he had to do; he would use this time to prepare by reviewing and memorizing the knowledge stored here, so when they came he’d be ready. Keepers had for many worlds been the last bastion against the loss of an entire civilization’s knowledge. Often the Keeper’s existence was unknown, ensconced within stone monuments, their locations lost to passing memories until they were called upon.
This was not his first world. He had learnt his craft on others but he’d been content to settle here, as there were many similarities in cultures visited or inhabited by the Gods and Goddesses of The Holy Way. He loved the deserts and monuments of Keymett. They reminded him of Egypt, a land worlds away; he’d been lucky enough in his youth to spend time there as a pilgrim.
He didn’t know how long he’d been gone from Keymett’s affairs or what events had hewn from the calamity that had thrust him into exile but the Goddesses had woken him and he knew that meant someone was coming for him.
Return to read or buy page.
/archived-read-or-buy.html
