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| Photos are all Author's Own |
I've always been fascinated by ancient Egypt, especially after reading
Mara, Daughter of the Nile by Eloise Jarvis McGraw as a kid.
Yesterday I spent quite a bit of time at the current King Tut exhibit at the California Science Center, admiring golden, glorious objects from 3000+ years ago and it really put me in the mood to write another ancient Egyptian paranormal romance. I've shared a few of my photos from yesterday here for you, to pair with my Bring It Back(list) book,
Ghost of the Nile.
The blurb: 1550 BCE
Betrayed, murdered, and buried without proper ceremony, Egyptian warrior Periseneb is doomed to roam the gray deserts of the dead as a ghost for all eternity.
But then the goddess of truth offers him a bargain: return to the world of the living as her champion for 30 days. If he completes his mission, he’ll be guaranteed entry into Paradise. Periseneb agrees to the bargain but, when he returns to the living world, two hundred years have passed and nothing is quite as he expected.
Neithamun is a woman fighting to hang onto her family’s estate against an unscrupulous nobleman who desires the land as well as the lady. All seems lost until a mysterious yet appealing ex-soldier, Periseneb, appears out of nowhere to help her fight off the noble’s repeated attacks.
Meanwhile, Periseneb’s thirty days are rushing by, and he’s powerless against the growing attraction between himself and Neithamun. But their love can never be. For his Fate is to return to the Afterlife, and Death cannot wed with Life…
The excerpt:
Periseneb had no idea how many years he’d been wandering in the gray
lands of the Afterlife. Time had no meaning here. For time unending he’d done
battle with monsters and demons, experiencing neither pain nor emotion, despite
the horrific combat, until a startling moment when he felt pavement underfoot,
not shifting gray sand. Raising his head with a rare flicker of curiosity,
Periseneb found himself in a tunnel, walking toward an illuminated room.
Radiance and warmth from a golden light beckoned him onward. He slowed and then
stopped, fighting the tug of the summons bringing him here. Whatever was about
to happen, he wouldn’t go as a supplicant.
I was a warrior.
He straightened his shoulders.
One of Pharaoh’s own guards.
He tightened the leather straps of his breastplate and drew his sword,
intent on facing this new challenge as he’d lived, with pride.
Jaw set, eyes focused on the
light ahead, Periseneb marched forward resolutely, braced by the discipline
he’d learned in his life as a soldier.
He crossed the threshold into
the chamber, his steps faltering at the sight of the deity waiting for him. But
then, who had he expected? He was too lowly a shade for Isis or Osiris to
bother with. Standing at attention, he saluted. “Lady Ma’at.”
Calm smile on her face, the
Great One, goddess of truth, nodded to him. Taller than he, dressed in a finely
pleated red sheath, the goddess was imposing. Her expertly painted face was
accented by the towering red ostrich feather in her hair, and her expression
could only be deemed welcoming. Eyebrows raised, eyes gleaming, she inspected
him from head to toe as a commanding officer might.
He assessed the room with a
glance, hope dying as quickly as it had sprung. Ma’at was alone. Neither of the
other two judges, Anubis and Thoth, was present. Their chairs sat empty. The
most dreaded occupant of the judging chamber was, thankfully, not paying any
attention to him. As grotesque as the depictions of her hinted, the beast
Ammit, Destroyer of Souls, slept snoring in a corner. Claws curled
possessively, one hideous cheetah forepaw was draped over a gleaming human
thigh bone. She snuffled, long pink tongue scraping the sharp crocodile teeth
in her jaws, while her hippopotamus hind legs kicked in some dream. Repressing
a shudder, Periseneb averted his eyes.
“I’m not here for my heart to be
judged at long last, am I?” His voice sounded rusty to his ears.
“No indeed, Periseneb. The laws
of the Afterlife haven’t changed—you can’t receive judgment, since none did you
honor at the time of your death. No one performed even the tiniest ritual from
the Book of the Dead on your behalf. You’ve no tomb, although your bones do lie
in the soil of the Black Lands.” Ma’at’s voice was soft, her eyes misty with
tears, apparently for him. “A paltry blessing, I know. I’m sorry.”
He knew she was sincere. Truth
was the only utterance Ma’at could make. He rammed his sword into its sheath
and rolled his shoulders. “Why then am I here? I didn’t seek this place out; I
swear to you.” Pride stiffened his spine. He wouldn’t beg favors, not even when
unexpectedly drawn into the presence of a gatekeeper, someone who could free
his ka from ceaseless wandering…sentenced to defending the green serenity of
the blessed duat, never to set foot there himself, banned for lack of proper
ceremonies. The rule was harsh but just. No one deserved eternal life in the
duat without proper judgment from the gods.
