The creatures marched forward, a fixed grimace of death upon their decaying faces. With shield raised and spears pointed, they moved in unison toward the magically bound Medjai. Kalaros had already accepted his end. His failure. He only hoped the that his wife would find either escape, or a swift death. A cloud of smoke erupted from behind the wall of undead. The chosen of Set, Maia, had made her departure. Kalaros knew that she held her prize firm in her grasp. His wife, Miris, and her gift of communion with the gods.
“It is my time.” The Medjai whispered under his breathe and relaxed his struggle against his restraint. As he did, the swirling black smoke that bound him ignited. In a display of spark and ember, his binds dissipated.
“I didn’t have you for a quitter, Warrior.” A deep and snarling voice echoed through the room. Kalaros looked up from his position on the cold floor and could see that time had stilled. It was complete silence, aside from his heart thudding in his chest and his steadied breath. Across the room, studying the undead, stood a creature. It was twice the height of a man. Lithe and bestial. It wore armour of gold that shone with resplendence despite the dim light. The creature had the head of a jackal. “I’ve never liked these creatures. These things of Set.” It said, it’s clawed hand grasping the skull of one of the motionless undead. Without effort, the creatures crushed the aged bone into dust, letting it fall through its fingers like sand.
“Anubis?” Kalaros managed, his voice still a whisper.
“Yes.” The god said simply, turning his yellow eyed gaze to the Medjai.
“Are you here for my life?” Kalaros asked, finding his voice through tremble. “I have failed you. Beyond that curtain lays your lifeless son.”
Anubis laughed, a cruel boom that echoed though out the temple. The god bound toward the Medjai, his clawed feet cracking the stone floor beneath. Kalaros still knelt, looking up at the god as he came face to face. Frozen in fear and numb, he could now see the visage of the imposing figure. Anubis snarled, rows of pointed teeth twisted into a grin.
“That fool born of opportunity does not hold the title of my son. He was not worthy of such power.” Anubis began, then thought for a moment. “I need warriors… not fools.”
“Take my heart and weigh its worth. I have nothing left.” Kalaros pleaded.
“Rise!” Anubis roared. The Medjai felt a power surge through his being. A fire raged within him and he rose once again. “Do you not want the power to take back what is yours? To protect those who you love? To take back this place you call home? Answer carefully, Kalaros. I am not a patient god.”
“But why me?”
Anubis laughed once more, then answered. “You are my chosen.”
“Then… I accept.”
Anubis lunged forward with a clawed hand and reached into Kalaros’ rib cage. Gripping the heart of the warrior, the god bestowed a gift upon the Medjai. The gift of power. Kalaros could feel it flowing through his veins. Strengthening his muscles. Ebbing in the air surrounding him. Kalaros could feel the fury of the Jackel headed one as his eyes flicked to glowing orbs of yellow.
“It is done. And with your power, I grant you another gift.” Anubis said. With a sweeping motion of his arm, a blanket of dark mist covered the stone floor before them. Four figures emerged from the obscurity. They were no taller than a man, but lithe like Anubis himself. As the god that stood before them, the had the head of a Jackel. They wielded a shining sickle blade in each hand. Kalaros knew of them through myth. They were the guardians of the gods. An elite warrior caste commanded by Anubis. “They will follow you until the end and do as you command.”
The god began to walk away with his last words, then added. “Oh, and take the chosen of Sets head. I will be there to claim it.” Anubis vanished into a swirl of dark mist.
Kalaros strode through the temple, being careful not to step on the fallen. The guards and attendants of the Pharaoh had fought bravely that night, but none could have overcome the terror that descended upon them. The Medjai now possessed a power from the gods. He had never felt stronger. He would not waste that strength. Walking toward the exit, Kalaros could hear the screams of panic and the roars of battle. He quickened his pace to a run and his four unearthly warriors followed behind. Through the open doorway, the cold of night struck his empowered body. Before him, scrambling up the grand stairway, were the survivors of the attack. Valas, the prophet, leading them to the temple. Although bloodied and bruised, Kalaros could see hope in their eyes.
“Medjai, where is the Pharoah?” Valas asked, then turned his gaze to beyond Kalaros, where the Jackal headed warriors stood. The prophet dropped to his knees.
“The Pharaoh is dead.” Kalaros spoke simply. Looking to the town below, shadows began emerging from between the buildings. It wasn’t long before a few shadows became a shambling horde. “Rise, Valas. Take these people to safety.”
“You… have been… chosen.” Valas said, his sentence broken in disbelief, despite the evidence before him.
Kalaros looked to the prophet with eyes glowing yellow. “I am the chosen of Anubis, and now, I have a war to wage in his name.”
The Medjai charged past the surviving as they moved to safety, his bestial warriors beside him. Soldiers among the survivors, despite wounds, joined in formation behind the chosen. The Medjai and his small forced charged against an army of they undead. But the chosen of Anubis, liked his odds.
Hey everyone! This will probably be the last part of The Chosen Of Anubis, for now. This is due to having to prioritise other, larger projects. I hope that you have enjoyed it, I appreciate those that have followed the story.
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Thank you all for reading!