Chapter 47 (answer to book launch contest)

The frogs were gone, but the flies that had replaced them were no less of a nuisance. As large as thumbnails, they harassed livestock and humans alike. The child wasn’t spared by the calamity, but he tried to endure it philosophically. At least they didn’t bite him, although they did everyone else. The spell he’d cast upon himself was a simple one and required very little energy to maintain: a good thing since he needed to keep it up day and night.

Pieces of clothing had been fastened over the windows in an attempt to keep the cursed insects out of the palace, but some flies always found their way inside the building. There was simply no stopping them.

How much longer would the stubborn Pharaoh refuse to grant the old brothers’ request? They were only asking for a few days off for their people and themselves, nothing unreasonable. But the Pharaoh didn’t see it that way. For him, it was a matter of pride. No matter how little their request would have cost him, he was the king and his word was final. He’d rejected their plea and nothing could change his heart. Obstinate old fool!

The child perceived the men’s voices as he approached the room that his mother and he shared with four other slaves in the servants’ quarters. He couldn’t recognize them but knew they didn’t belong there. Men weren’t allowed in this part of the quarters reserved for women and young children. His heart started racing when he heard his mother’s voice. He was still too far away to distinguish words, but he could sense distress in her tone.

He picked up his pace and entered the room unnoticed. The strange voices belonged to two palace guards, easily identifiable by their uniform. They had cornered the child’s mother and were now describing in gruesome details the ways they were about to abuse her. The poor woman stood petrified against a wall, her arms wrapped around her sheath dress in a protective gesture.

The child felt the blood boil inside his veins. Who were these men to think they could abuse his mother? He knew, of course, that the woman wasn’t truly his mother; his kind had no mothers. But the woman had given him birth in this life and would have died doing so if he hadn’t chosen to save her. These thugs wouldn’t get away with this. No doubt they’d bullied and abused many women in the past, but their streak of terror ended here.

The boy waved his hand and one of the guards clenched his chest in agony, life deserting him rapidly as the blood stopped flowing inside his arteries. The second one barely had the time to register what had happened to his companion before a blood clot formed in his brain. He collapsed to the ground, his head hitting the stone floor with a muffled thump.

The child moved quietly towards the door; he didn’t want his mother to suspect he had anything to do with this. He was about to step into the hallway when he felt a powerful hand grabbing his shoulder, stopping him dead in his tracks. The boy tried to turn around, but he could not. His muscles no longer obeyed him; he was paralyzed. Although he couldn’t turn to face the man standing behind him, he had no doubt regarding his identity, and it was without surprise that he recognized the familiar voice: “I am sorry. I am so sorry for doing this to you, but you have left me with no other choice.” The voice belonged to a most powerful magician, a magician the boy had known for eons, a magician who hadn’t been in the room an instant earlier. “I know you cannot understand, but believe me, things aren’t what they seem,” said the magician in a tone filled with sorrow.