Cries of anguish, bloody wailing and steel hacking through lamellar. Beasts roared as they gnashed and tore with their overgrown fangs. It failed to drown out the agony of the wounded. At least the dead had the decency to be silent, despite suffering their stink. Oozing blood, the deathly release of shit and piss overflowed her nose. Suffocated by her own stink of sweat and blood, she tasted it on her dry lips.

Nadiyya’s eyes were shut, her other senses set the scene. The picturesque Dhaar Province in the northeast was ruined by their violence. Sharp and perfect green grass stained with blood, shit and shattered steel. Aches hampered her entire body. Flesh between the gaps of her script strengthened scaled armour stung with closing wounds. Blood dyed her rich under silks. Her drenched khopesh weighed beyond what she was used to. It dragged her arm down, threatening to pull it out her shoulder. She refused to let the blade drop from her grasp.

A chilling early morning gust shifted the battered roaring Sinha helm on her head. It penetrated the script strengthened steel, caressing her cheek with an icy sting. She squeezed her blade’s moist grip and searched for calm with gritted teeth, easing her overstimulated enhanced senses.

Nadiyya trembled, dulling the aches and the taste of blood. The clashing steel, along with the endless anguish, faded to a whisper. Death and decay, blood and shit, the slowly arriving morning died in her nostrils. Her grip slackened and the khopesh slipped. Pride felt a world away in her mind. Here there was true focus, calmness far away from where she existed. A closeness to her Essence.

Blades of grass folded behind her, crunching beneath the weight of boots and lamellar armour. He grunted as he scaled the mound she stood upon, yet she remained focused. On his approach, on his scent, on his need to do harm. Cut off the head, succeed where the ambush failed.

Metal slid from his sheath and a smile stretched her lips, her focus bubbled her blood again. Adrenaline surged within her while he snuck closer, slow and methodical, but in vain. He might have been a hero were she not a Tamer. Worthy to be mentioned amongst Emperor Jun Da’s generals in the war, even if it went ill for the Tigers.

His heartbeat pounded beneath his chest. He paused, searching for his courage perhaps, to spur himself into action. The man stank now, a short charge away from her, through the chaos of death, blood and dying clashes. She suffered his sour musk, the blood his blade stole and the fresh soil his boots kicked up.

The Tiger charged.

Nadiyya remained still, her mind focused on every crunching blade of grass behind her. His armour chimed; his chest heaved with effort. The man had the sense to not scream, at least. It all meant nothing in the end, for his end was inevitable the moment he thought she was an easy target.

A sound spilled from his lips, a grunt before his killing swing. His blade whistled as it sliced the air, downwards into the right side of her neck. Nadiyya moved at last, faster than his eyes discerned, raising her khopesh to deflect. Their steel clashed like a sharp crack of thunder to her Tamer ears. Eyes still closed, she swayed from his forward tumble and sliced off one of his legs.

He gasped as he thudded onto the ground. On his back as the overwhelming scent of rent armour, flesh and fresh flowing blood came over her. Nadiyya’s eyes opened as she stood over him, khopesh raised over her head.

“No,” he groaned, eyes wide, courage gushing from his stump. Then he wailed, the gravity of his foolishness hitting him. “Mercy, by the Beast, mercy!”

Nadiyya’s khopesh came down with all her Tamer strength. Shattering through his lamellar breastplate, making quick work of his ribs and organs. It split his spine and burst through his back, stopped only by the grassy earth it buried itself into. Split in two, his mercy granted. His face was frozen, mouth agape, eyes wide yet lifeless. The pharaoh was remorseless.

She remembered that much.

Wait.

Nadiyya looked up and saw nothing but darkness. No battlefield, no endless death and violence, she saw no corpses of Tigers and Lions. Not even the bloodstained grasslands of the Dhaar, only blackness. The sounds of the coming morning were gone, the tainted scents and cool breeze non-existent. She glanced down at her last victim was gone. Her khopesh vanished it him.

This wasn’t how it was.

A grove sprouted in the distance, lit up by the sudden yellow fire of a morning sun. The tight-knit formation of darkwoods soared unnaturally high, surrounded by the same blackness that surrounded herself. Pride was non-existent, but the heavy deep breath of a Feline filled her ears. Calm inhalation, calmer exhalation, beckoned her towards the grove.

A hand tightened over her heart and squeezed, stealing her breath. Pharaoh Nadiyya shut her eyes when the realisation hit her.

No!

Nadiyya awoke to darkness, hand clutching her heart. She felt a faint thump, rather than chaotic drumming. Her hand floated towards her lips when they almost spilled her dream aloud. She tossed aside her silk blankets; the sheets below were no damper than normal. It was lonely in her vast room. Moonlight trickled in from open shutters, followed by the suffocating humidity. An instinctive hand snatched at her left to find nothing. She knew better, but hope always moved her hand.

The pharaoh stepped out of bed and enjoyed the cool stone floor with her bare feet. Her toes curled, until her own warmth dulled the coolness. A sigh escaped her as she rose to her feet. She rushed towards a brass basin filled with lukewarm water.

The first splash was a freshener, the second was damp humidity. Somehow the towel was worse, returning the fatigue she washed away. Every time she blinked the otherworldly grove appeared. These hauntings were becoming too frequent for her liking, haunting her beyond her nightmares even.

“How the mighty have fallen,” Pride’s voice swam through her mind, sprouting from their bond.

He slept outside, for Gawahir’s comfort, but she enjoyed having eyes outside the doors.

“Troubled by a dream.”

His mockery was ill timed, she wasn’t in the mood to entertain him. Nadiyya turned towards Gawahir’s side of the bed as she released her bulbous bun on the top of her head. Oiled and more coiled than curly, but still silky to her touch. The jewelled bone comb glided through it without effort.

Pride grunted outside, turning her attention towards the door. Soon after plated boots approached. They thudded while she rushed in search of a gown. She abandoned her loose waist length hair while she hid her sheer night silks beneath an unflattering gown. Nadiyya swung open the door before the knock came.

“Pharaoh,” the golden scale palace guard bowed. She whipped out a folded piece of parchment. “Words from the Tamer’s Council.”

“The Nau’Van you mean,” Nadiyya yawned. “Have you seen my husband?”

“In the war room, Pharaoh.”

“Thank you.”

The palace guard bowed again. Her hazel eyes glowed beneath her ornate golden helm. Nadiyya watched the gold and black cape stream behind her as she departed.

“Your eyes enjoy wandering,” Pride sent again, humorous, mocking, stirring.

“Just come inside,” Nadiyya snapped in reply.

The beast’s laughter echoed through their bond. He lounged across from the door within, his pristine fur of sienna gold glowed in the darkness. Pride was beautiful and he knew it, dragging his ochre brown mane along the floor while he strode, towering over her on all fours. She snarled when he winked his golden eye at her, huffing his warm breath onto her face.

“You are in an annoying mood.”

“You are dour, and it amuses me.”

“Dour,” Nadiyya scoffed aloud.

She broke the seal of the parchment and grimaced at the horrendous penmanship. Not long, but important.

“What does the ink tell you?” Pride asked.

Nadiyya turned towards her Tamed Sinha with a wide grin. His impatience soured their bond. She squashed the paper and sauntered towards a candle.

“Tell me girl!”

She sparked a flame on the fresh wick and savoured Pride’s growling. He loomed large on all fours, his golden eyes brightening in the darkness of her room. The Sinha snorted when she lit the parchment and waved the burning paper at him.

“Not so nice on the receiving end, is it?” Nadiyya drove her dagger deep.

Pride bared his overgrown fangs at her, which only won laughter from her. She waited until the flames tickled her fingertips before stomping the embers out.

“Old Nau’Van says the elders are days away.”

“Days, their vagueness annoys me.”

“Hah!” Nadiyya shouted aloud.

“Does it now? Hopefully you will remember that annoyance when I am suffering one of your many bouts of vagueness. Besides, it is a surprise the Order gave any sort of word at all.”

“The boys deserve more.”

Pride’s words trailed off. She frowned at the Sinha. He tilted his enormous head with innocence that failed to distract her.

“Say it.”

“Perhaps… perhaps they are ready to know?”

“No.”

Her rejection came out quicker than she intended. Panicked by her nightmare, she couldn’t help but suspect Pride knew that much. It was tempting now that they were older, though this war muddied everything. Despite the lack of a serious clash in years. Jun Da cowered in Bag’Jagaal without a whisper. Surrender was inevitable, but his supposed madness, and pride, must have kept the sane decision away. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, raising the boys made their inaction bearable, but now it troubled her. A knife in the dark seemed beyond the emperor she once knew. Maybe an open march south, or a plot to ruin the boys’ inductions.

“There is no need for such thoughts, girl,” Pride interrupted her creeping paranoia. The Sinha enjoyed his teasing, but he was always the father she was robbed of.

“I fear for him.”

“The boy is capable. It is a journey forced upon him; this was not of your making.”

“I could have done more.”

“There will always be more to be done, but there is still something to be done now, girl.”

Pride caressed her with his care, and she smiled at him. It took a moment longer to fight her quivering heart, but eventually she shoved the worry away and kicked her feet towards the doors.

“Where to girl?”

“I have a busy day ahead, the less time I spend working under the baking sun the better.”

Nadiyya opened the doors and spotted a grey ghost marching towards her.

A pair of servants told her the sunrise was still a few hours away while they busied with her hair. Grey ghosts, Nadiyya smirked as she walked through the passageways in open toed sandals. It was an easy name to remember, but its origins were beyond her. She wondered what or who gave them their ridiculous name. The red and gold beads hanging off the ends of her braids jingled when she yawned.

Her coiled curls were soft and organised, the oil was sweet, though they bumped against the small of her back, her irritation grew. She enjoyed the years of motherhood that allowed its growth, but now in the eighteenth year of the boys their use ended. The years affected more than her hair; with every step she took her once firm limbs jiggled with excess. It wasn’t unattractive, she enjoyed looking at herself in mirrors, and Gawahir’s greedy hands were excellent proof.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Being a warrior demanded rigidness of body and mind that made this pleasurable weight a subtle discomfort. She itched to join the boys when she watched them train. Especially now, when their talents soared beyond her own. Those days of being a general were not behind her, she was a Tamer, yet she feared her desire diminished.

Pride grunted behind her. His warm breath bore down on the crown of her head.

The passageway of pharaohs was a blur to her in the dim light. Endless eyes from the Atum Ra line glared down at her from the heights of their immortal glory. She learned to ignore them long ago. On this early morning however, they undressed her.

Palace guards nodded at her, grey ghosts were more formal, bowing low as she passed. They helped to remind her she belonged. Nadiyya impressed her warmness with a beaming smile at them, while adjusting the tight golden circlet wrapped around her brow.

Pharaoh Nadiyya passed many of Sanctuary’s gardens, which lifted her mood. A rainbow array of sweet-smelling flowers filled her nose. Evergreen plants bloomed eternal, sprouting from moist soil on the edge of the greenest grass. Never too long or too short. Snoring reached her ears from within a few gardens, hints of unfinished food as well. Someone stumbled out of a smaller garden nearby, smelling of wine and sex. He smudged his kohl with the back of his hand and raised his head. She bit back a chuckle.

“Master Kalim, what a surprise,” Nadiyya said.

The man blinked a few times, then his eyes widened.

“Pharaoh Nadiyya,” he cracked his knee on the ground just as two others exited his garden. Their cloth was poorer than his, the woman was a dark umber skinned Cheetah, the other man a tanned Tiger. They too were late to notice her, but when they did see the pharaoh, they squealed and rushed back into the garden with frenetic apologies. Pride’s chuckles filled their bond.

“What stirs the pharaoh so early?”

“Nothing near as exciting as what woke you.” She eyed the silver feather amulet around his red blotched neck. “How is Lord Shu?”

“His bones trouble him in the night. Anubis’ calls grow louder, yet my grandfather remains. I hope you received word of my mother’s apologies for missing the princes’ feast.”

“I must have missed it, though I did not expect her to be present. An ailing father is excuse enough.”

“Still, I offer an apology on her behalf.”

Fear filled her nose, though not from young Kalim Shu.

“Thank you, I shouldn’t keep you for much longer. May your grandfather pass peacefully, Kalim.”

Nadiyya hurried away, overhearing his belch when he thought she was far away enough. His eyes followed her, she felt it lower down her dress.

“I dislike that boy,” Pride said.

“You say that about everyone who lusts for me, ignore your nose for once.”

“You are food to him, you speaking to him will only embolden something more.”

“I do not have to sleep with him, nor is he capable of forcing himself on me, so please, enough of that.”

“You allow too much disrespect.”

Nadiyya ground her teeth. There was no point in arguing when Pride turned on his paternal instincts.

She entered the crystalline great hall. The marble glowed silver. Palace guards acknowledged her beside their torch-lit columns. Those in black armour hid in the darkness, but their eyes sparkled.

Raised voices struck her before she passed the seven thrones. The stone seats were bland but timeless, exuding the authority that monarchs demanded with not effort at all. Nadiyya paused before their steps when the shouting continued. She recognised the voices; they pierced her heart.

A Bana’lava was carved into the centre throne, the untouched one. Not since Queen Cylla a few millennia ago. To the Lynx Clan seat’s left was a Jagu’ara, then a Kalo Cituva, and a Cituva at the far end to her right.

To the Lynx’s right was a Bagha, beside it Gawahir’s. The oddness she felt when she awoke returned, an unease borne from the Tiger and Lion thrones. The throne on the furthest to her left bore a Cali Cituva, but more shouting snatched her away from her attempt to distract herself.

“I’m telling you to do your duty!”

“You will not speak to me with that tone, boy. You forget yourself!”

“And you forget your duty to the capital!”

“I will not waste my time worrying over one dead whore in a district that is beyond our influence! Bil’Faridh is not the seat of the Lion Clan.”

“Perhaps if you were a stronger Pharaoh, you wouldn’t have to worry about ruling the capital.”

“Careful boy, careful!”

“Don’t try…”

“Silence! Get out Zaki, before you say something you regret!”

Pride nuzzled her neck, lowering his head and insisting she scratch his ear. It was a small distraction, but her ears still listened to Zaki’s stomping exit. She watched him approach, her tired and plainly dressed baby. Ochre pants soiled by dust. An orange shirt that didn’t match, but there was pain in his mismatched eyes. Despite the scowl fighting to display anger.

“Speak to your husband, make him see sense,” Zaki said.

“Why are you fighting with your father?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times. Zaki’s chiselled face became a battlefield for his warring emotions. The gold brightened within his golden right eye while he ruffled his short curls.

“Maybe you can tell me what has you so busy?”

“I was,” he sighed and his shoulders dropped. “Just a murder, thought Da would help me.”

“What about your mother? Am I incapable of helping?”

“Tomorrow Ma.”

He leant down and kissed her cheek.

“I have news,” Nadiyya said to his back. The topaz pommel of his khopesh glowed in the dim light.

“Tomorrow Ma.”

Nadiyya rushed into the war room, Pride at her heels. The doors were closed behind her, and she suffered Gawahir’s overwhelming stench of anger at the other end of the cramped room. She ignored the decaying trophies on either side, rusting weapons left behind orange, brown and red dust on marble stands. Moulding banners of forgotten warlords and long dead rebels were folded and stuffed away. Bones of forgotten beasts remained flawless, with script carved into them. A clue towards the monstrosities that once roamed Ko’Eri, and the entire continent.

She circled around the large stone map table in the centre. A perfect carving of Ko’Eri in its entirety, from the snowy Mahn’Parvat that split the Feline Clans from the rest of the continent in the north. Down to the southernmost tip, where the mountains of Sanctuary fell off into the sea. Painted figures decorated its surface, representing the various clan holds, forts and cities.

Gawahir slumped in his desk, using a hand to keep his bald head up. Dying candles flickered in every corner, but a crystal lantern was the greatest source. His desk was swarmed with loose pages and sealed letters, most with a golden Atum Ra sun. She circled around behind Gawahir’s seat and eyed the sky-blue ink on all the paper.

“Did you see Zaki on your way in?” Gawahir asked.

His voice was hoarse, to match his gaunt face. Umber skin paled to a sandy brown, and he stank of ink.

“What are all these numbers?” Nadiyya ignored his question as she perused the chaos. “Gawahir, is this for Sinh’Chattaan?”

“Books need to be rewritten, paint for each of the pyramids to hide the fire, guards and the return of commerce and miners.”

“Already?” She peered at the page and stifled a shout. Nadiyya glanced at the doors then lowered to Gawahir’s ear. “This is the capital’s gold.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“This is theft! Do you intend to bring us war on a new front?”

“There’s no need to be dramatic. Besides, we have no choice, our mines haven’t been worked in years. The taxes from the lion district barely cover our needs, let alone the rebuilding effort and our soldiers. Once Sinh’Chattaan is ready, we will return the borrowed gold thrice over within the first month!”

Nadiyya recoiled from Gawahir. He didn’t move from his hunched scribbling, but his words were spoken with venom. A trickle of frustration spurted out amongst his ink and stale scent. She turned away and eyed the only banner without mould. It hung behind Gawahir, his enormous Atum Ra banner. The golden jagged sun shone; each thread glimmered like veins beneath the earth.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Gawahir said.

“On purpose,” Nadiyya replied.

Pride grunted aloud, making her husband jump.

“Why are you awake?”

What keeps you away from our bed? Nadiyya wished to ask, but his sour mood kept her silent for a moment.

“Nau’Van brought word from the elders. The induction is days away.”

Gawahir grunted.

“We should prepare Mazin’s departure.”

“Mazin is in the infirmary, the boys have taken an interest in harlots.”

His disdain burned her chest, but she wouldn’t rise to it. To risk pushing him further away wasn’t worth it. She waited for the spite to drain itself from her tongue.

“Anything I need to know?”

“Some murdered woman. Zaki sought justice in the cheetah district, Mazin said he prevented another attack in the lion district.”

“Have you spoken to Gazsi?”

“You are welcome to my love.”

His dismissiveness made her suspicious. Of what, she was no eager to discover. Nadiyya bent over and pecked his dry cheek, leaving behind her red lips. Her sandals echoed mournfully as she departed the war room. Gawahir’s eyes didn’t rise as she hoped. He scratched his pen on paper, it mocked her as the war room’s doors shut behind Pride.

Pharaoh Nadiyya hurried through the poultice stinking passageways of the infirmary. The early morning darkness receded slowly while she enjoyed the subtle chill outside. A gust broke the constant humidity, which thankfully didn’t follow her into the infirmary below the palace.

She stepped out the way of masked physicians rushing up and down. Some stained by blood, most with their heads down, all too distracted to notice the pharaoh in their midst. Not that she cared, she didn’t want to steal any of them from a patient in need.

Nadiyya wandered the maze of the sickly and wounded. She almost snatched a physician, or a guard as her impatience grew. But she turned a corner and a black scaled palace guard stood before a door. He watched her approach with onyx eyes, which shined as much as his oiled beard. Rubies decorated his roaring Sinha helm, larger than the pair on the carved Sinha on his chest.

He bowed low and opened the door. She entered a room close to pitch blackness, that took a few blinks for her Tamer eyes to adjust to. Pride snorted behind her, then a flash of redness sparked behind a bed. Nadiyya’s heart froze. Eighteen years and Mazin’s ruby eye never failed to terrorise her. It wounded her every time, there was no need to tell him, or anyone else. If he noticed it, he never brought it up, which only worsened her shame.

“Ma?”

Warmth returned to her legs and she wrapped herself around him, inhaling his sorrow, dust and sweat. Mazin always possessed a hint of ash, black ash darkness. She ignored his grimy curls and gazed upon the sedated woman.

Her umber skin was sun darkened and beautiful. Remnants of ruby dust glittered her shoulder length knots. Kohl smudged her face, especially around her eyes. The girl was familiar, but the stink from her mangled right arm dragged Nadiyya’s attention away. Silk bandages wrapped around it, from gnarled fingers right up to her elbow. Yellowed and reddened by corruption.

“Who is she?” Nadiyya asked.

Mazin’s guilt filled her nose.

“Farah, a girl I… hurt.”

The girl who broke her arm all those years ago after Mazin and Zaki snuck out the palace. Days after the Essence revealed itself in both of them. She tightened her embrace, resting her chin on his shoulder. His hand met hers, relinquishing the ruby pommel of his khopesh against his thigh.

“Her arm, the smell,”

“I know. The physician said she will need to cut it, before the rot spreads. But how can I… she deserves to make the choice.”

“If she isn’t capable? You cannot wait until it’s too late.”

“I… I don’t… she already hates me.”

Nadiyya yearned to ease his pain, to take it and bear the heavy burden. All she could do was gold him, and hope it was enough.

“I didn’t kill anyone, I swear.”

“It’s all right baby, you don’t have to explain yourself.

“Can she stay here?”

“Of course,” she held off on the news about the elders. “I am so sorry my love.”

“What for?”

“Had I known, I wouldn’t have encouraged Cyrea, and,”

“No, no, it’s not like that… I mean, she is… I was only… it’s not like that.”

Nadiyya chuckled into his neck, and left her red lips on it. She unwrapped herself from him and walked around the table.

“Leaving already? You seemed to come with news.”

“Later, when you trust she is safe.” Mazin’s gloom lifted. “Do what is right for her, at least be here to explain why. Preferably after you bathe.”

Mazin managed a weak smirk before she departed, her own heart a little lighter.