Part II- the desert.

     It was a long trek that I took, some time later ending up in the Southern Deserts of ancient kings and pyramids. It was a truly awesome sight, like nothing I had ever seen before, not even in the volumes I had hoarded in my personal library. I walked about through the sands, none too cautiously I must admit, too astounded by the sights before me. I should have paid more heed to the people's reactions of me, rather than marveling at their dark skins and plated hair styles. Everything was adorned with gold, and large mosaics of detailed hieroglyphics decorated every available space. One specific painting caught my eye in my wanderings, of a goddess holding a large scepter, pointing a finger at dark figures who fled from her in what seemed like terror. As I leaned in closer for a better look, I was startled back to reality by hands being laid upon me from behind. Instinctively I spun about, reaching for my sword, but it was in vain for the men were far bigger than I, and in large numbers. I was taken by force, tied up and locked in heavy chains about my wrists, feet and neck, forced to march through the crowded streets for all the native peoples to stare and spit upon me. I was deeply confused by all the goings on, for I knew I was different, but why should they hate me when they didn't even know me? And by the number of guards which had appeared out of nowhere about me in such a short time, it mush have meant that my coming had been announced.

     I was to soon find out, for I was lead to a great throne room, that of the high king and Pharaoh of the land. A staff was brought to the back of my knees, causing me to kneel, and my head was pushed cruelly to the marble floor. When the king entered the room, I was at first not allowed to look upon him, a guard's hand held my neck in a tight embrace. Yet I heard his words, and at first, I did not understand what he was saying, the language being new to my pointed ears. He repeated the words again, louder, and it was then that I began to realize that the syntax of his speech was similar to that of a southern caravan I had once come upon in Gilead. Quickly I racked my brains to understand what he was saying, and figured out it was something like, "Why have you come to kill us?". At first I thought perhaps I was mistaken in my translation, for why would he think I was there to kill him and his people? Again the question was asked, and to my silent confusion, I was forced upwards again, pushed further in front of the king and finally allowed to look up at him. What I saw startled me into complete stillness. The king was not at all what I expected. This foreign king was, to me, absolutely beautiful to behold. His skin was a deep golden color, like that of his people, with dark hair which ran down his back in perfect straightness. Yet my eyes went directly to his..so entrancing did I find them that I could not look away. They were not ordinary in my opinion, and must have held some power, for I was deeply drawn to their dark hues and oval appearance.

     The King must have sensed he had control over me, and asked once more in a more coaxing voice, why I was sent to kill him. This time I answered back, in his own tongue, that I was not sent to kill anyone, but just passing through. To my answer, many gasps went about the thrown room, from guards and noblemen alike. I turned my head to look about, wondering why I seemed so threatening to these people. To my looks they all turned away, covering their eyes. Yet once again I was hit cruelly from behind with a staff, my whole body falling this time to the marble.

      "I do not believe you, Nephthys, sister of Isis and wife of Seb," the king called out to me as I slowly looked up to him, "It can only be you with that look in your eye and the skin you walk this earth in. Did you think that the High King would not recognize the goddess of the dead?"
To the my surprise, the king stood up and walked down those three steps towards me, and reached down to take my chin in his hands.

     "Tell me why you have come Nephthys. We have sacrificed and given offerings in your name. Has my enemy to the east sent you? Tell me!"

      He shook my head violently, and out of habit, I pulled away from him and stood up. I was taller than he, only by a few inches, but enough to strike fear into his heart.

      "I am not this person you speak of," I announced plainly, "I am Camilla Valtonus of the forests of Gilead, to the north. I demand to be let go."

     The King only laughed.

      It was a horrible sound, and for a moment I myself was afraid, and I had good right to be. With a point to those guards around me, the King ordered for me to be stripped of all my clothes and strung up. When hands were placed upon me I struggled as much as I could, actually breaking free from the first few men, but they were too many once again. My garments were ripped off of me until I stood completely naked for all in the thrown room to gawk at. My hands were forced above my head, tied to some sort of pole to the side, obviously constructed in the past for this very thing. I was lifted up, so that my toes only grazed the floor beneath, hanging by my wrists only, my entire body stretched out.

     "Perhaps with some coaxing, you will tell me why you have come, Yes?" said the King with a hiss. And with just a nod of his head did the first hit come. I remember the pain being immense, like nothing I had ever felt before. Tears immediately sprung from my eyes as the second slash came across my exposed back. Yet this seemed to please the King, and for that I became indignant. I was not about to be used for someone's pleasure, especially if it was my pain which they thought amusing. My endurance was far stronger than any of those giving witness would have guessed, and it took 39 slashes to my back before I passed out when the salt was thrown on after. All I remember was feeling so very, completely drained, and that if I closed my eyes I would never open them again. Yet with the blood dripping down my bare legs and forming a pool about the marble beneath me, I succumbed and drifted off, the last sight my eyes beholding is that of the King with a calculating look upon his features.