Today is the day we leave this accursed Empire... by Patrick Kapera

Hekau powerfully strides through the Herculean halls of the Senpet capital, his commonly distant eyes wild and darting, yet leveled directly ahead of him. Those he approaches part for him, understanding immediately that he is a man with a destination, and a purpose. And as he passes through them, they suspect he may even be smiling.

"Hekau. Smiling. It's inconceivable," they mutter amongst themselves before rushing away to avoid drawing his attention, or wrath. His bald pate and gilded scabbard show brightly in the harsh noon sun between the massive sculpted columns leading to the central, and tallest, pyramid ahead. As he crosses the thoroughfare, he slows to avoid colliding with a passing cart. The mule leading it halts, and grotesque sounds emanate from it. His grin becomes a smirk and he turns to go around it, but only succeeds in coming face to face with its owner.

Plump is a word used to describe people this man eats, they think, looking down at his round body, gorged beyond human limits. He is a monstrosity, the reason we hate them all.

The merchant beams at Hekau, flashing a pit of crooked and stained teeth. He is saying something apologetic, but the Senpet only closes his eyes, hoping the freak will vanish to some distant hell where he will never be seen again among those who can stand under their power. When he opens them again, he sees that the man has indeed gone, apparently replaced by another. Shorter and more squat, yet nowhere neat the same bulk, the new man is of the City - quite far from home. His beard is full and well-groomed, and he wears extravagant (though not incredibly expensive) silks. A very tightly-wrapped turban tops his happy face. He is laughing loudly, sweeping away the last vestiges of Hekau's smile. The hacking sound is intolerable. And that is why we hate them, though they do have their uses... Blinking at the odd sight, Hekau finds himself facing the huge ebony-skinned merchant again, who is even now swiveling about on one leg to round him, bleating more excuses as he does. Hekau's eyes trail the waddling man for a few more steps before he decides that some things are better left unexplained, and he continues toward the pyramid.

Passing under the Great Arch and its flanking guards, he swiftly makes for the Royal Council Chambers. He is already late, and Queen Hensatti rarely tolerates imprecision. Two minutes later, he sees the blazing braziers outside the large chamber doors and the beginnings of a smiles creep back into his grimacing mask.

Today is the day we escape...

Outside the doors, sitting quietly within the hall, are the entourage of Ramontet. Hekau did not realize that the planner would be here. That would mean that this was a tactical conference, as well. That changes things. As he places his hand on the cool, gold-plated door, Hekau feels something heavy glance his ankle. Looking down, he sees that one of the Thinkers' scrolls has fallen out of his reach. Picking it up and handing it to the young man, he expects to see another of the endless line of uniformed assistants Ramontet is so proud of. But what presents itself to him makes no sense - not even in the frame of mind he was plagued with today. Sitting cross-legged before him is another City-dweller, though of a far darker shade. His clothes are voluminous, many more than any Thinker - and most Senpet - would ever wear. They are stupid creatures, hiding within sweltering shells when they should be screaming naked at the Sun for her betrayal.

His face is knowing, his eyes boring into Hekau like the tip of the sharpest lance of the Senpet Legions. And he is mouthing something Hekau cannot hear, silent words lost to the draft within the immense corridor. Their only words are drivel, and we choose not to listen.

"Ahhh... Hekau!" Ramontet's voice carries through the crack he has made in the doorway, his hand clutching the heavy portal's bar uneasily. "Is something wrong?"

The door opens, and the planner looks from Hekau down to the Thinker at his feet. Glancing back and forth from Ramontet to his assistant, Hekau cannot remember noticing where the foreigner had gone. At the invitation to enter, however, he hands the scroll back to the Thinker, and walks inside. Cut into the side of the structure, the room's far wall opens up into the clear sky, overlooking the whole of the Senpet capital. Ramontet is at his side, guiding him to the others gathered at its edge. Bekhten and Hensatti are speaking in low tones as they arrive, and turn to greet him. Bekhten is particularly cheerful, his arms opening wide to welcome his former student again.

"How are you, good friend?" he asks of Hekau, holding him at arm's length for inspection. "You look quite well!"

"I am well, Bekhten," Hekau answers calmly. He cannot reconcile the odd feelings of resentment welling within him now, only able to fight them down so that they do not show. But even that effort is telling, and Bekhten recoils a bit, drawing his arms back into a defensive, and judiciary, cross before him. Hensatti remains at the balustrade, gazing down into the streets far below. Instinctively, Hekau moves to her side, joining her reverie. He waits patiently for her to speak first, knowing not only his place, but also her intent in bringing him here. The conversation has to be controlled, and with the Pharaoh, this is a tricky proposition.

"It is majestic, is it not, Hekau?"

A vile prison, my warden. Release us, so that we may fly.

"It is the Great Eye of the Desert, my Pharaoh, watching us that we may see." "You are indeed eloquent, Hekau. You live up to all that has preceded you," she says, glancing to Bekhten.

He is uncomfortable with her eyes - the way they are accommodating and accusing all at once. "I have considered your proposal, highness, and I have made my choice."

When he looks on Hensatti then, he sees another, but this time he is prepared. He has seen this one before, with her long, flowing robes and golden tresses cascading upon them. The smile returns to his face at her image, and broadens when he sees a sleek cat perch upon the stone rail at her side. We are meant to be together, Hekau. We are joined now, you and I.

I am inside you, and you are within me.

We are unbroken, unbound...

Bekhten and Ramontet have come to face him as well, waiting for his answer. Hensatti looks on him expectantly, the phantasm upon her gone. But the cat remains.

The cat remains.

"I will join Abresax and Kepsat at the City," he said to them. "I am prepared for a greater, more active role in our Empire's future. I ask to be given the opportunity."

There is a moment of introspection before Hensatti responds. "Very well, then," and looking across at Bekhten, continues "Let us discuss how we shall deal with these troublesome raiders at the City, shall we?" Bekhten's concerned eyes follow Hekau back into the chamber.

The hours pass slowly, and by the time the sun's angry stare disappears beyond the horizon, the talks of troops and strategy is finally done. The four Senpet rise and prepare to leave when a small boy dashes into the room and perilously launches himself at Bekhten. The smiling general grabs hold of the little man, twirling him around in the council room and laughing. Among those who have paused to watch, Hekau looks on... ...remembering his own childhood, so many lifetimes ago.

The sun was bright and yellow overhead as Hekau raced through the hills.

Behind him, screaming as loud as he could, was his best friend, Kepsat. "Enjoying an afternoon away from the old, decrepit garrison once in a while is good for young boys," Bekhten had told Kepsat's mother. "They need the chance to run free, like the playful spirits they are."

She had been worried, of course, for both of them. Since Hekau's own parents had been killed by the Yodotai two years before, he had been raised by her. Kepsat's father was a soldier, like Hekau's had been, and was rarely home to see them, and so the three of them had formed a close bond, becoming as much like a family as could be expected.

"Wait for me, Hekau!" Kepsat called to him. "I'm not that fast, remember?" Hekau only laughed, stumbling blindly forward into the mesa, happy to finally be free of the ceaseless studying and swordplay. Ahead of him, rising into the sky like a lazy cloud, he saw a dark form. Not sure what it was at first, he turned to Kepsat, pointing before him, but found only miles of unbroken sand there. Kepsat's trail vanished some fifty yards away, within a low dip between the dunes.

Hekau could feel the presence of something gliding through the air behind him, and when he turned to look, he saw...

...nothing. He can remember nothing, not of the rest of that day, or any day after that for twenty years. His life sicne then has been a meaningless void, even though he is sure of where he has been, what he has done. Others tell him that he vanished for three weeks as a boy, only to return unharmed, untouched by the desert's wrath. They speak of his flawless performance as a soldier for the last two decades, and how he has come to be well-respected within the Senpet Legions, able to command any post he could want. Which is exactly what he has done. He is ready to act on the visions he has been having more and more often - for years. He is ready to hunt down the terrors that haunt his waking days and sleepless nights. He is ready to reclaim his life.

Bekhten's son, Gidirah, cradled within the proud man's arms, arcs his head to look at the blanching Senpet, yet when his face is seen, it is that of a scared, little girl. She is anything but weak, he realizes, but she is terrified of something very near to her, and as the tears stream down her lovely cheeks, he feels himself drawn to her.

"Help me, Hekau," she whispers.

He turns and walks out of the room, uncaring or unwilling to say anything to those within.

They are no longer your family, Hekau. We, the ones you see in your restless eye... we are the ones you should call brother.

And as he races through the crowds at the thoroughfare, never turning to look at the hated monuments of a dying people, the same words continue to ramble through his mind, over and over again.

You are finally free.

We, the Qabal, await you...

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