BW XXIII - Dafydd
A huge humanoid stood in the gloom. Mightily built and with a powerful aura of death, his presence was unmistakable. Piercing red eyes shone out from his jackal face and his hair was replaced by a dark, rich gold head dress which cascaded onto his broad shoulders.
“You cannot enter our halls Lastar,” his voice boomed in the near darkness of what appeared to Daffyd to be a crypt.
“I have weighed your heart my son and see no alternative.” As he spoke the words reverberated against the stone walls and seemed to run into one another. His breathing was slow and calm but the jackal’s teeth were bared as if he anticipated danger. Sparks crackled from his hands and lightning travelled along his strangely shaped spear.
“The feather will not balance such a weight as you still carry. Perhaps your time was premature? Perhaps you still have more to do? Leave it for others Lastar, it is unwise to toy with things you can barely comprehend. The doors are shut my son. You need to find an alternative resting place. What was once put aside for a great man is now barren and bare. You had your choice and you had your time.”
Opposite the God knelt a small wizened man dressed in tight fitting white garb. He looked down at the dark brown bare flagstones, not out of fear but out of resoluteness. His hair was trimmed short and he was, for the first time in a long time, clean shaven.
“Osiris knows that my heart is heavy with the deeds I have done for him on the Prime.” The man’s voice was calm, flat – almost matter of fact – but it did not echo with power and sounded feeble in this place.
“I know my son,” came the reply, gentle and almost compassionate, “but Osiris is dead and will no longer vouch for your deeds.” The man stood, uncomfortably and looked the God in the eye, anger threatening to boil over. Daffyd notices that the Crown and Staff bearing the Gem are laid before the God as if by way of offering.
The God seemed troubled as he continued, “Seth has destroyed him and there are none to oppose the destroyer.”
Almost to himself and casting down his eyes, as if not wishing to challenge the God about such matters, he utters, “How can that be?”
Perhaps it was rhetorical but it appeared the God thought he owed the man an explanation, “Set killed Osiris by tricking him into a coffin, which he threw into the great river.”
“What of Isis?” Lastar asked quickly and almost without thinking, “cannot she vouch for my deeds?”
“Oh, how thoughtless the dead can be.” The God laughed, “When Isis heard about Osiris’ murder, she started searching desperately for her husband's body, to bury it properly. She has little thought for a mortal begging for his salvation.”
As if buying time the man asked, “And where is the body now?”
“It was found on the Prime! Under your nose Lastar – now perhaps if you had helped Isis, she would have been your salvation; instead some children found his body and returned it.”
“Children! What children?” The old half-elf asked.
“Those of man, I believe you know them to be. Isis has taken her husband to a hiding place beyond my sight. She mourned and looked after her son Horus, the infant. Seth, was terrified that Isis might be able to bring Osiris back from the dead. Unfortunately as you stand here, Seth has found Osiris’ body and has cut it into pieces, which he has scattered. Now Isis is left to find all the scattered pieces of her beloved husband.”
“Will not Ma’at change your mind?” Lastar is desperate now, looking for another to champion his cause. Has all that he has done on the Prime been in vain?
“She has decreed Lastar that you of all on the Prime cannot enter the Hall of the Dead” came the blunt reply.
Anger erupts in the man and he lifts the staff as if to strike the God. “Then I will scatter that which caused this punishment and, like Isis, those that would enter the Halls will search for the pieces for eternity!”