Akhenaten lounged on plush cushions laid out next to a long feasting table, the food before him prepared and delivered by his followers as a sign of respect. He had spent the last few days recounting the story of their great march to their promised lands to Michaenas, ensuring its legacy for all time. It was incredible to think by first light he would complete the transformation and ascend to Godhood. He was on the verge of becoming immortal.
“My lord.” said Yehoshua, his head bowed as he entered. “You asked that we should join you. I will return when you have finished.”
Akhenaten could see Yehoshua and Michaenas slowly backing out of the tent, and spoke to prevent their departure. “Do nothing so foolish my general. Please sit my friends and enjoy.” He patted the cushions to his side, waving the men forward. “I did not have this feast prepared for just myself.”
The two men cautiously walked over to the table and took up positions to either side of Akhenaten; Yeshoshua bolt upright, his eyes facing directly forward as if he were attempting to guard the food.
“Must I order you to partake of the fruits of our harvest?” asked Akhenaten, surprising himself with the frivolity of his words.
Michaenas was the first to move, carefully beginning to pick at the fare. Yehoshua, still clearly uneasy with the situation, bowed his head before reaching over and taking a handful of roasted lamb, consuming the delicately spiced meat with gusto.
A little while later, wine flowing and tales recounted, they were laughing and joking, talking to each other as equals. It would be the first and last time in their lives it would happen, and Akhenaten wanted to savour the simple pleasures of such commonly acquaintance.
At the end of the night, Akhenaten hugged both his most loyal subjects and thanked them for their help. As they left his tent, he wondered if they knew that by the next evening they would be leading the army themselves.
The sky was a dark hue of blue as Akhenaten rose groggily from his bed, a maidservant bringing him a jug of warm water and some honey with which to refresh. Even though he was ready, now the end was upon him he could not shake the doubt and uncertainty that lingered. What would it be like to live forever? In all his wanderings, in every single moment spent on his quest to understand how immortality might be achieved, he had never spent any time considering the ramifications of it. What would hold meaning if tomorrow was not precious? How would events unfolding in his new life be experienced when each was as inconsequential to his eternity as the last? He pushed the thoughts from his mind and strode outside. Answers would only be found in doing, never by meaningless musings.
Already stood proud and waiting, Yehoshua, Michaenas, and their escort of guards bowed as he approached. The group exchanged pleasantries, as Michaenas went through the details of the imaginary ceremony given as an excuse for their departure.
Akhenaten found himself staring at the Ark. This box of gold, this gift from a forgotten people, would soon be his salvation. He reached into the pouch slung over his shoulder and ran his fingers over the artefacts. What were their origins? How were they made? Perhaps in his many years to come he would find an answer to those questions.
Darkness was an unwanted companion, as the group set off toward their goal. The message from the uraeus was clear about what was required: Enough souls and first light.
Akhenaten thumbed at the diamond-shaped container in his pouch and allowed his fingers to roll over its surface. It was not until its nature was explained by the uraeus that he realised its true value. Imbued with the energies of three times more souls than required, he reasoned he should not fear the artefacts would be ready.
This was Akhenaten’s first venture so far from his homeland. As they rounded the side of the mountain that faced Retenu, he stared into the valley beyond. Through the gloom of the slowly brightening sky, it was possible to pick out a lush plain stretching out toward the horizon. The sounds of life, multiplied by the availability of fresh water that abounded in these fertile valleys, rang out from below and filled his soul. It was a fitting vista from which to say goodbye to the confines of his existence.
When they reached the small shrine facing the ruined city of Jericho, the fragile dawn was nearly upon them. In the exquisitely polished alabaster paving, a blue granite slab with a central hollow shaped like a pyramid lay surrounded by a series of concentric circles picked out in white. Akhenaten took the diamond, the barely contained energy it possessed tickling his fingertips, and gently placed it into the slot. It fit perfectly. He ordered the guards to position the Ark behind the paving, facing the location from which the sun would rise. He carefully removed the uraeus, balanced it between the wingtips of the cherubim adorning its lid, and took a step back.
Akhenaten stood and faced the singularity on the horizon; the infinitesimally small point from which the first shaft of light would emerge and set him free. Here, finally, all that remained was the cold resolution of action that had driven him for so long.
Emotions ran through him as his life’s memories flashed by. As the scenes played, he realised death and destruction were his companions for too long. The visages of those killed, their number into the thousands, tore through his mind. Images of family members, of lovers, and finally of innocents, each swam by and then drifted away, until finally, the only one remaining was that of Smenkhkare.
Akhenaten laughed, as he remembered Yehoshua tying his brother to the olive tree. He could see the anger in his eyes and could almost taste his hatred. He never once thought of sharing this moment, but staring out over this valley, he wished his brother were here to see it. It would have broken his heart to realise he wasted his life for nothing. His failure to right what he saw as wrong would soon be total.
The sun crept above the lip of the horizon and the first ray raced across the desert. As it crossed the edge of the granite slab, it began to shine from within. The diamond flipped open, and a white ball the size of an eye drifted up from its heart, hovering in the air. Casting a shimmering golden light, which smothered the surfaces around it in a billowing sea of ripples, the orb meandered lazily forward.
Every one of Akhenaten’s senses fired, as he grabbed the staff instinctively and touched it against the uraeus, opening his mouth in anticipation of the consumption.
-
For Yehoshua, the next sequence of events happened in a blur. A guard fell to his right - Michaenas screamed - A slender foot flashed in front of his face - A whirlwind of pain exploded inside his mind - An arrow embedded in his master’s back - The cruel edge of a knife plunged through the soft tissue of his side - A flash, like the doors of the underworld tearing asunder, engulfed everything - A blackness, so deep even Horus could not have lit his way from it, enveloped his soul – Then silence - Nothingness - Oblivion.
Chapter 50