Tentyrian Legacy (10 page)

Ari looked out the window. “There are voices,
but it’s nothing I can understand. It sounds like gibberish or a
tape recording on fast- forward. If I concentrate on the sound of
my breathing, for example, or the number of taps of my foot, I can
kind of tune them out. You probably already read this in my file,
but it gets worse when I’m around more people.”

“Do you ever feel so overwhelmed you want to
hurt those people?”

“No! Never. Did my mother tell you that?
Sometimes my head is completely muddled. If I don’t focus and I let
the sounds wash over me, I don’t know where I am, who is around me,
or who is touching me. If I ever hurt anyone during an episode, it
is by accident. I swear.

The situation with Howard was different . .
.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Do you think any of the medicine
you’ve taken has helped?”

“No. The best medicine I’ve found is being
alone or being underwater.”

“Tell me what it’s like underwater.”

“Let’s say I’m at a pool party. There can be
thirty people around me, which would normally drive me crazy. But
if I’m under the water, the noise quiets. It’s still there, but on
a scale of one to ten in terms of how loud it is, it’s like a four
instead of a ten.”

“Have you ever used noise-cancelling
headphones or listened to music?”

“Yes. It doesn’t make a big difference, but
it helps a little.” “So where do you spend most of your time?”

“In my room.”

“Is it soundproof?”

“Yes. My parents had soundproof boarding
installed when I was born. I was a very light sleeper, and any
sound would wake me.”

“Arianna, I’ve been thinking a lot about your
case. I need to take more images of your brain, but I don’t think
you are schizophrenic. I think what you are hearing is real. And
when I say ‘real,’ I don’t mean real because you perceive it to be.
The key neural bridge between the hemispheres in your brain is
wider compared to most peoples. I found it when I saw your MRI. It
may be something that’s been growing slowly over time. Last night,
I received your last brain scan from five years ago. I had it sent
over from the specialist you saw in California. Five years ago,
that neural bridge was only slightly enlarged. No one noticed,
though, because it was so minute. Now, it has increased by two
centimeters.”

“Is it like a tumor?” she asked
nervously.

“No, and I don’t think it is going to affect
you adversely, other than what I think it’s doing to you now,” he
assured.

“What about my headaches?”

“They may not be cluster headaches but rather
the pre and after effects of what you are hearing. I want to pose
this thought to you, Arianna—you’ll have to just go with me on
this. What if your enlarged neural bridge has opened up
extrasensory abilities in your brain, and you are picking up on the
thoughts of those around you? Kind of like a frequency the rest of
us can’t hear? The more people around you, the louder the
frequency.”

“It sounds like science fiction, but if it
means I’m not crazy, I’ll go with you on this for now.”

“We can try to reduce the enlargement, which
may abate your symptoms, or we could try some natural remedies and
techniques to control the symptoms. I’m a neurologist and a
proponent of pharmaceuticals, but I’ve seen the range you’ve been
given and I think we need to try something different. This isn’t a
cancer and isn’t something we can or should try to get rid of with
radiation, chemotherapy, or surgery.”

“Well that’s good to hear. The less meds the
better. And I definitely don’t want surgery. So do you have some
special homeopathic treatments or something?”

“Some herbs that may help, yes, and I also
want to try a special type of yoga and tai chi to start,” Raad
said. Ari laughed. “I know it sounds ridiculous. But I think we
both know that if your dream of college is going to happen,
something needs to change, and soon.”

She took a deep breath and held out her hand.
“I agree . . . as long as you call me Ari and stick to your
promises.” With a firm handshake, the beginnings of a friendship
were solidified.

52 BC, June Tentyris, Egypt

Almost all of their belongings were moved.
This was their last night in their beloved homeland. But it
wouldn’t be one of sadness; it would be one of celebration. The
past ten months had been filled with preparation for everyone’s
relocation, and all week they had readied for this evening. The
ceremony, feast, and dancing would commence at sunset. Nearly six
hundred Tentyrians—entailing all twelve Covens, the Tentyrian
Guard, the Zodiac Council, and the royal family—would pay tribute
to Tentyris. They would honor the prosperity and leadership they
had experienced for nearly 130 years and look toward their
future.

The Covens had selected their new homes,
spanning the globe. Although the Tentyrians would no longer be in
close proximity, their geographic dispersal would work to their
advantage by promoting a global blending with the humans. The
Rising of Sirius was in approximately two months time, during which
they would convene as a Council at the Sanctum. The new location
was now ready for their arrival, and they would celebrate the New
Year there.

The royal Tentyrian cooks worked for days to
prepare the array of food for the night’s feast that included
buttery cheeses, fattened fowl, beef, fish, numerous breads, cakes,
and fruits. Rich aromas of rosemary, cumin, and garlic wafted
through the Royal Villa. In addition to the wine and beer that
would be served aplenty, golden chalices were filled to the brim
with blood. The chalices of blood were the Tentyrian signature
drink—some human, some animal, the blood was obtained humanely. No
one, except for the animals that were being eaten for the feast,
suffered.

The night’s festivities would begin with the
binding ceremony in the Temple of Hathor as soon as the last rays
of the sun dipped out of sight. Attendees would don their
ceremonial pallas and pallium over their stolas and tunics. Colored
and embroidered as designated by their respective Covens, their
ceremonial garb was fastened with gold and jeweled pendants called
fibulae. After the ceremony, the Tentyrians would go to the Royal
Villa, where the celebration would take place. Acrobats, dancers,
and musicians would entertain the party as food-laden trays and
bowls made of blue faience were passed. The Tentyrians would lounge
on white linen divans and join in the singing and dancing that
would fill the Great Hall of the Royal Villa.

Most of the Egyptian humans at the party were
fiercely loyal and were moving to the Sanctum. Some were servants
who were well compensated for their duties. Others were Guardians,
meaning they were charged, like their mothers and fathers before
them, with the well- being of the Tentyrian children. In return for
their loyalty, the human Guardians received prolonged life. They
could never become like the almost immortal Tentyrians, unless they
were fully changed. And that never happened. However, with the
drink of Tentyrian blood they were offered every full moon, their
aging slowed considerably—making it possible to triple a life span.
The human servants, like the Guardians, never wanted for shelter,
food, or wealth. Compared to the average Egyptian, they lived
luxurious lives, which was guaranteed for as long as they kept the
true nature of the Tentyrians a secret.

Any servant and even an occasional Guardian
who violated that secret, and consequently the Code, would have
their memories fully wiped and they’d be left on the streets
outside of Tentyris. When one wanted to leave Tentyris voluntarily,
it was an entirely different matter. The Guardians and servants
were rewarded generously and given new homes sponsored by the
Tentyrian clan.

It was eight-thirty and the sun’s arc in the
sky was almost complete. Hathor stood barefoot on her
balcony—feeling her power heighten, despite her headache. She
looked upon Tentyris and the Sacred Lake. The view was
breathtaking. She could see the lights of the Tentyrian villas as
their occupants were preparing for the evening ahead. Merchants
were closing their shops, and the farmers were retiring from the
fields. The balmy air smelled of lotus. She wrapped the crimson
silk tighter around her shoulders, as if to ward off an impending
chill—not that she could feel one, of course. Nevertheless, it was
a protective instinct.

Hathor turned her back on the view and
surveyed her bedchamber with a sigh. The raised down-filled bed
with feather pillows felt like an open invitation to sleep forever
in its folds. She once shared that bed, made love in it, and even
held her four newborn daughters there. Now, it was just a quiet
escape for one. Hathor knew it was where she would draw her last
breath.

She walked over to her dressing area. Hita
had organized her table with a general’s precision. Picking up an
ivory-handled brush from the array of instruments, Hathor ran the
coarse bristles over her fingers. When her girls were little, they
loved it when she brushed their long wet hair in front of the fire.
Meanwhile, she would regale them with visions of the future filled
with new discoveries. She hoped they would get to see them one
day.

Hathor’s own long black hair was piled on top
of her head. The mass of curls was held in place by tight braids
that formed an interlocking crown. Selene did an excellent job.
Rubies were woven throughout, making her hair sparkle with sin,
just like her tinted red lips. Egyptians who saw Hathor called her
the most beautiful woman in the world—a goddess incarnate. Their
descriptions graced papyrus pages and temple walls throughout
Egypt. To the Tentyrians, she was their leader. To the Luminaries,
she was their mother. Hathor was the beauty she appeared, but she
was also a hardened ruler nearly three hundred years old.

“My lady, your daughters are here,” Hita
interrupted Hathor’s thoughts.

“Wonderful, send them in. You may tell Argus
and Cadmus we will be ready to depart for the temple in ten
minutes.”

The wooden door to Hathor’s chamber opened,
and her four daughters entered. Their scarlet robes rustled as the
silk brushed against the stone floor.

“My darlings,” Hathor said, holding out her
arms to her smiling daughters. Although they were grown women, they
were never too old for a mother’s embrace. Hathor held tight.

“Mother, don’t be sad,” said Narcissa, who
was first to pull away. “Tonight is going to be wonderful. And
tomorrow we leave for our new home.”

“Yes. Indeed. I just get sad when I realize
how my little girls have grown. Before we go over to the temple
together, I have something to give you four.” Hathor then walked
over to her bookcases. On the bottom row, she removed a cluster of
books and reached behind to pull out a black leather volume that
was lying flat. It was about ten inches thick, and on its cover was
an engraved zodiac symbol in gold.

“This is the book that I’ve been writing in
since we first founded Tentyris,” Hathor explained. “Some of the
writings are my silly musings, but they also include my visions of
the future. I want you four to keep this book safe. It will prove
useful.”

As the eldest, Daria took the book into her
hands. “Mother, if this book has your prophecies, are we supposed
to act on them?” she asked. “When we are at the Sanctum, we can
discuss the implications. Not tonight. But just know that you all
are now responsible for this book. Keep it safe.”

“I’ll shift to the Sanctum now. I have just
the place for it,” said Daria. The air around where she stood
seemed to reverberate with motion. And in an instant, Daria
shimmered away.

“In the meantime, Calypso, what is the status
of Auletes?” asked Hathor. “The compromise we struck should be in
motion.”

Like a soldier reporting to her commander,
Calypso explained that over the past month she successfully dosed
Auletes’ nightly wine with orpiment, a tasteless and odorless
poison.

“I’ve heard the palace doctors say it’s
likely his liver is diseased. Too much wine. His death will appear
natural, and by my estimates, he will be dead by tomorrow. I put an
extra dose in just this evening,” said Calypso with a smile.

“That better not be a flippant attitude,
Calypso,” said Hathor warningly. “Death is serious and permanent.
All we can hope for is that the Egyptians will be in better hands
now. I don’t know if what we have done is right. But it is done.”
The women stood silent.

“Why so solemn?” interrupted Daria as she
reappeared. “Auletes will be dead tonight,” replied Phoebe.

“Well, let us not dwell on it,” Daria said
quickly. “We must go soon. I can hear Argus and Cadmus pacing
outside. Our clan and celebration await.”

With the expectation that they would live
forever, the women understood that emotional pitfalls would be
momentary components to their lives. But if moments of joy could be
equally fleeting, they needed to be celebrated to the fullest. The
royal family looked at each other with the knowledge they needed to
seize this joyous night and not dwell on the life of a man who had
only brought them pain. Auletes was forgotten.

“Does Hita have our candles?” asked
Phoebe.

“Right here, my lady,” replied Hita. She had
a knack for always appearing when needed. Hita handed each of the
five women a long, black beeswax taper. With a snap of her fingers,
Phoebe illuminated the candles.

The Luminaries and Hathor exited the chamber,
escorted by Hathor’s bodyguards and five members of the Tentyrian
Guard. Outside the villa, the women crossed the lantern-lit
courtyard to the main garden path that wove its way through the
royal gardens and into the heart of Tentyris. Drumbeats calling
from the temple could be heard. It was the signal for all
Tentyrians to meet at the sacred Temple of Hathor.