Cursed Times - What Now?

Chapter 31- The Truth

Iseret's willpower clawed at Metjen's ka, sending shots of pain through his mind. His blood welled up, trickling down his cheeks in tears of failure. She tore at his emotions; he realised what a nobody he was, unworthy of his noble ancestors... . He fought to suppress a sob, his limbs quivered in despair, and he could do nothing against the icy fire of the monster that raged through his being.

Her command boomed into his mind. I LET YOU OFF THE LEASH TO FULFIL MY GOALS: NOW YOU WILL OBEY AGAIN!

How dare she jerk him around like that?

I WILL NOT!

Fury and sun-flow exploded inside Metjen, hurling his ba into the tumultuous void of Beyond; a void that should ring with the voice of the Gods. It did not. He took a deep breath, sucked in the divine energy and dove back, to re-unite his ba with his body.

As always, eternity had only taken the blink of an eye.

Metjen focussed on his surroundings. Booms and crashes rang in his ears as the chamber erupted in a chaos of spells, curses and bolts, all cutting across each other. Trunks and baskets blew up, destroyed curses crashed to the floor together with the chunks of wall they had been encoded on. Yet nothing could touch the darkness still glowering above them. Pressure built in his cranium and he saw purplish stars blinking all around him.

You tried this before. I will not succumb! Metjen mind-shrieked. He got no answer.

He slammed up a shield composed of divine spirit. The pressure eased, and finally he could join the battle; just in time to stop Rani-Ra from engaging the darkness.

Metjen shoved his sister behind his back but felt her gathering power. He extended the protection around his team and confronted Iseret.

There was only one other person in the room who had remained calm. Trueth regarded him from the corner of her eyes, then she launched her soothing magic at the hovering horror. Iseret's eyes flickered. She raised her hand to ward off the sleeping spell. It slipped between her fingers and darted towards her chest. Trueth had used enough magic to send a hippo into an instant coma.

Not so their foe, she merely shook herself and flicked the flow towards Gebu, who threw himself onto the floor unceremoniously. Trueth's magic rushed into the veil and disappeared.

They were not doing so well.

Metjen reached into himself, exploded a golden ray into the monstrous face above—only to see the flash dog-legging into the shaft. A yellowish sparkle curved around him from behind and flickered into the plinth.

Now there was an idea.

Metjen stretched out both his hands, drew up the flow and his golden rush slammed into Iseret's power base—or whatever that thing was. The plinth cracked into many veins of light; it shook with a tremendous rumble and collapsed into a heap of broken stones.

Iseret winced, folded and deflated onto the floor.

Apart from Nefer's whimpering, the room was silent.

Stones rolled aside, as a shrivelled wraith with wisps of grey hair blowing around her skull dragged herself from the floor, her arms and legs spotted and quivering with age.

'Pray calm down,' Iseret cackled. 'You cause me much despair, and I am too old for this cow dung.' She staggered against the nearest wall, trying to hold on to tattered clothes together with her shredded dignity.

Iseret slumped onto an upturned basket. Metjen had never seen her like this, not even when they had battled back at the temple. The whimpering increased and Nefer was trying to put together another spell.