Eye of Ra (17 page)

“Who… are you?” She stammered in English.

“A friend,” he smiled.

For some reason those two words made her feel safe enough to break down crying in his arms. A heartbroken Laurence tried his best to fight back his own tears as he comforted her. It became harder as the rest of children flocked around him bawling also searching for comfort.

He could never read comic books again. They were pale fairy tale stories compared to the atrocities he had witnessed.

“We have to get these kids to safety,” he turned to his familiar while wiping his eyes.

 “The nearest Tutsi rebel line is an estimated one hundred eighty miles from our current location. Larger Hutu parties than the one we engaged are between us and the location.”

“Hoofing it is not an option,” he shook his head. “Is there another way?”

“A dimensional portal jump is the easiest,” it answered. “They will be slightly disoriented like you were on your first jump, but no harm shall come to them.”

“Alright, let’s do it …but first,” he swallowed, “I need you to help me bury these little ones before we go.”

“It is wise considering …?”

“We’re
not
leaving them like this!” He snapped at it.

“Standard size graves?” It asked.

He answered with a nod.

The familiar slithered away and went about the task of blasting seven graves into the ground in the matter of minutes as the children watched in amazement, while Laurence went about collecting the bodies of the six students he was unable to save along with their teacher. Aside from witnessing Rosemary’s death, which still haunted him, he had never been around dead bodies before, much less handled them. With each body he lifted, he stripped away a piece of himself. The young girl he saved, observing how much it was affecting him, joined in to assist by finding sheets and pulling down the school flag to wrap the bodies. There was not enough cloth; two of them had to go into the ground without cover.

As quickly as it created the graves, the scepter employed solid light photons to create a construct of a shovel head to move large amounts of dirt to bury the bodies. Laurence stared blankly with a heavy heart as the children began to weep again for their teacher and classmates they would never see again. There was no time even to say a prayer, as the familiar detected aggressive forces converging on the school.

As it opened the portal, Laurence instructed the children to hold each other’s hand as he held the hand of the young girl he saved. He told them they would feel a bit funny, but the lights would take them to a very safe place. They all obeyed as they followed him into the portal that transported them to a remote location well behind Tutsi rebel lines.

“You’re all in a safe zone,” he knelt down to meet the young girl at eye level. “Head down that way and you will find a camp that will help and protect you.”

“You are not coming with us?” she asked.

“I can’t,” he answered with a cracked smile.

“Are you going back, to help others?” she asked as tears ran down her eyes again.

“I will see what I can do,” his eyes became glassy.

“My name is Shamarima,” she cried. “I want to know the name of the warrior who saved us. Please.”

He could no longer hold the tears running from his own eyes, but he made sure to answer her with as strong a voice as he could muster.

“I am … the Eye of Ra.”

Without hesitation she threw her arms around him one more time hugging him as best as she could. The other children reached out and placed their hands on parts of his armor and staff.

“Thank you …Eye of Ra,” she wept. “We will never forget you.”

He watched silently as the children made their way down the hill heading to the camp. Every last one of them turned around to get one last glimpse of the golden and silver demi-god that had come to their rescue.

“I understand you used the designation to shield your identity,” indicated the familiar. “But you do know you are
not
the Eye of Ra.”

“Shut the hell up.” He whispered.

Laurence watched with the stance of a silent sentinel still watching over them from afar while his entire body trembled underneath his armor. He gripped his staff tightly as his quaking legs felt as if they’d go out from underneath him. Slowly it began to set in what he had seen, and what he had done. 

There was no shaking it from his mind, as he could still smell the stench of fresh blood in his nostrils and see the stains of the innocent dried on parts of his armor.

“When it becomes acceptable to kill another man or woman, childhood dies.” whispered Laurence. “When it becomes acceptable to kill a child…humanity dies.”

“I cannot locate that quote from any historical Earth archive.” answered the familiar.

“That’s because my father is the one who said it.” Laurence’s voice quivered as the muscles in his neck left him.

For a couple of minutes he stood rooted in place as the images from the horrors he witnessed violated his memory.

“Familiar, are we lost?”

“I do not fully understand your question,” stated the familiar.

“The human race,” his lips trembled, “because of our stubbornness and ignorance…because of the stupid evil shit that we do to one another and our planet …are we doomed?”

“Assessment of the projected future of your species is inconclusive,” it answered. “Despite humans’ many flaws and defects which mostly stem from emotional instability overruling clear logic, your species has achieved many scientific advances and cultural feats. Though archaic to most of the sentient universe, these are still impressive for such a young race. Many of you have also proven that in times of need you can set aside your differences to band together and face common threats. These factors make assessment of the projection of your species’ future inconclusive at this time.”

“So what is the answer?” He attempted to grind his own teeth to dust. “How do we stop …
this
?”

“An estimated ninety-seven percent or more of your species worldwide must learn, comprehend, and believe that there is only
one
race ...the
human
race … and
only
the
human
race,” bluntly answered the familiar. “That ninety-seven percent or more must also learn, comprehend, and believe that preservation and advancement of the human race and environment is a primary imperative. Finally, that ninety-seven percent or more must then exterminate the remaining percentile that does not share those views. Barring any planetary catastrophes, only then will your species have the opportunity to truly explore and reach its maximum potential.”

Laurence’s eyes narrowed as he gripped his staff tighter. The fire inside him that was there during his assault had returned.

“Then let’s get to work thinning out that three percent,” he growled.

CHAPTER 7

For the next forty-five minutes, Laurence went to work creating havoc in Rwanda.

Begrudgingly following the protocols and parameters set by his familiar, he began hunting down Hutu hunting parties and decimating them one by one.

The protocols set were to ensure that no one could clearly identify Laurence during his brutal campaign to single-handedly end the madness in Rwanda.

The parameters set were that Laurence was only allowed to attack nonmilitary hunting parties containing a maximum of fifty humans. His attacks could only last a maximum of eight minutes and could only be within a thirty kilometer range of one another. Also, although the familiar had confirmed that it could jam or knock out every electrical device from a fifty-mile radius to a global scale, he could not be in the vicinity of any media coverage, unless Laurence was going to physically eliminate any war journalists before they could file their reports.

Violating protocol meant that the familiar would override and take over the armor again, remove him from the area, and if necessary return him back to the ship.

He didn’t appreciate being put on a leash, especially by something that was supposed to obey him, but he had neither the time nor the desire to argue or test the familiar’s limits. He needed both its power and that of the armor to put an end to the senseless violence.

By making use of portal jumping and the armor’s ability to refract light that made him virtually invisible among the foliage, Laurence had the upper hand when it came to mounting bone-crushing ambushes. Once the initial shock of seeing him disappeared, many ran for their lives. Those that were brave enough to stand and fight felt the brunt of his godlike wrath. He was extremely brutal to those with innocent blood on their hands.

He was on his eighth ambush, wrapping up a twenty-five man hunting party in less than six minutes, as he booted a machete wielding Hutu man in the chest. His body violently slammed into the trunk of a nearby tree with the velocity and impact of car going fifty miles per hour before smacking face first into the dirt, never to rise. Saturated with frustration and anger, Laurence didn’t give him a second thought as a faint muffle signified that he was barely alive.

His frustration came from knowing that he had the power to stop the horrors happening around him by acting on a larger scale, but that he was unable to do so due to the heel his familiar kept on him.

“This is some bullshit!” he barked.

“Protocol cannot be broken,” emitted the familiar into his helm again, “regardless of your dissatisfaction with the campaign that you have chosen to wage.”

“And I say your damn protocol is bullshit!” He spat back. “People are dying all around us, and I’m being held back because you’re still taking orders from a damn dead man!”

“These protocols were put into place to ensure not only your safety but the safety of the human race,” returned the familiar, “I simply created real-time parameters that coincide with this era to ensure that protocol is not …”

“Hold up,” he cut it off. “That’s about the second or third time I’ve heard you talk about the ‘overall safety of the human race.’ What do we need
safety
from?”

 Before the familiar could answer him, its eyes emitted a bright glow as a powerful gust of wind sent dirt flying while causing the vegetation around him to sway.  

 “Detecting inter-dimensional portal,” notified his familiar.

“Say what?” asked Laurence. “Detecting? You mean this ain’t you?”

“No,” it answered. “It is not me.”

The crackling of electricity expanded, licking and scorching the ground as light appeared out of thin air. It grew larger, opening to the size of a large oval doorway.

Out of the portal came a being that caused the ground to quake with his first step.

The first thing Laurence noticed was that he was massive, easily dwarfing Laurence’s own enhanced six foot eight frame in both size and muscle.  His skin had a reddish brown hue. The upper parts of his face were covered with a light blue hood instead of a helm. His chest plate and shoulder pads were slightly smaller than Laurence’s, exposing the majority of his chest. Its gold and blue color scheme matched his hood. The head of a man with two jewels for eyes and expanded wings on each side of its face was the theme of his armor.

His bracers were the same size as Laurence’s but thicker. Two scorpion sculptures were attached to each bracer; they were made of silver Alder and blue Ember that emitted a blue glow.

The skirt belt was almost similar to Laurence’s except the metallic strap was solid silver Alder similar to the rest of the armor. The one-piece skirt part was a solid blue color with silver Alder lining. On the front of the belt was a sculpted emblem of a silver Alder scorpion holding eight silver Alder plates with blue Ember fashioned into rectangles and embedded into each of the plates. The bottom plate had an arrow form pointing downward with a large blue Ember arrow shape implanted into it. Like the scorpions, they emitted a blue hue that glowed under the hot Rwanda sun.

The greaves were forged similarly to the rest of the armor, except the scorpion emblems on the front were made of a pure silver Alder.

Removing his hood and revealing two extra-large slanted grey eyes was not what made Laurence uncomfortable. It was the unadulterated hatred and fury behind those eyes that made Laurence take a step back.

It was all directed at him. 

The luminous blue war paint on his dark bronze skin did not help either.

“Who dat?” Swallowed an unnerved Laurence.

“That is Anubis,” confirmed the familiar.

“Anubis?” he turned to it, “the ‘god of the underworld’ Anubis”?

“The designated “Eye of Set” of house of Set,” reiterated the familiar, “the first son of Set the third.”

Without a word, the thick scorpion sculptures on his bracers became animated and detached themselves. They crawled down his forearms into the palms of his hands. Once there they began to transform as long curved blades extended from each of their mouths, while their thick tails shortened and stiffened to become grips. They resembled ancient Egyptian sickle-swords known as khopeshes. Both the pommels which were the scorpions’ stingers and the edges of the blades burned brightly with unbridled Awakening energy.