Tainted Ink Press 2010
They say Son’s of Pharaoh’s are the Gods incarnate on Earth, and Mortal eyes would be averted, no one ever said assassins would try and slip into your room at night and try to slit your throat, or that the daughters of Kings would turn a knife as soon as your heart, none except my father, Siraj.
Last Pharaoh of Rennon, A land falling barren, turning sour where once the fruits of all things once flowed like the wine along the great Mother delta. A land now falls to natures waste, seas stretching to salty deserts, and wavering fountains filling with dust while dragons roam our ancient halls, slit eyes guarding lost hoards, and gobbling up wandering tribes.
A kingdom lost and won for a thousand years, held by the Northern men ravaged by the Southern, held by the blade of the West…
Now with him, sitting forward on his alabaster throne is a strange woman, not like my brothers mother, but dark, eyes as deep as the lost seas my sire once sailed, holds rapture over his words, body and soul watching his people starve with a peculiar delight. Those around her all fall under this siren’s spell, laying themselves before her, or on her.
I’m Hash’safae…Son of a Wolf, or the Dark Moon’s child.
Second Son of my father.
If anyone had given me any option then this, I’d take it, riding through the desert on a chapped toed camel, with a sac on its back and enough water to last me until I reached the Ladies Marajo, the center of the valley. A stretch of land sixty miles wide with raised rugged mountains stretching to meet the burning sands and scorched bush scattering the vast acres of void before me.
Only to ride West, across the burning seas, over the black mountains and to the distant rises of a land I’ve only heard in slumbering tales told to me by nurse maids and harlots.
To MarFerrum Terra, to the lands of my brother, first son of my sire, and the only one who can save our people.