I Love Research From Chariots to Crocodiles

...but I can get lost in it sometimes! I do the most in depth research for my paranormal novels set in ancient Egypt. It's not that I don't research some specific things for the science fiction, but the Egypt of thousands of years calls to me. I maintain a large library of actual books, most of which I list on the my blog under the topic of overall historical accuracy. At some point I realized I probably owned a lot of the books I’d need if I was pursuing a degree in Egyptology (but facing no tests).

So how do I pursue this research? I don’t write strictly historical novels because I wanted to have the Egyptian gods and goddesses take direct action in the events. Right away this takes me outside the boundaries of what’s acceptable for historically accurate. I don’t want my novels to be “wallpaper historicals” either though, where I just toss in a few cool looking Egyptian words and make reference to the pyramids, pat the Sphinx on the head and I’m done. I want the Reader to be in ancient Egypt, even if it’s my paranormal version. There are some plot conveniences I want, like talking about actual coins (which the actual deben system was not). I do some deliberate anachronisms to serve my stories.

Let’s take my latest novel MAGIC OF THE NILE. Since it’s a sequel to PRIESTESS OF THE NILE, I’d already done the research into the Crocodile God Sobek, hero of the first book and major player in the second. But for the new book, since we spend time at the temple my heroine Tyema runs, I researched how Sobek’s temples were organized 4000 years ago, a lot more details about crocodiles, how processions were conducted, which deities were important in the capital city of Thebes, the hierarchy of an Egyptian temple’s priesthood, what Pharaoh would wear for different activities, what foods would be served on a big feast day…

I needed my hero Sahure to be dashing, so he’s a charioteer, which was about as dashing as you could get in 1500 BCE. That led to research on chariots, including a wonderful NOVA special, called “Building Pharaoh’s Chariot.” (Available on dvd.) Watching a team of British researchers attempt to reconstruct the chariot of ancient times, with the help of Egyptian craftsmen, basically by studying tomb paintings and the few actual surviving chariots, was amazing.  But where does Sahure need to drive in his gleaming, horse-drawn vehicle?

Turns out there was a chain of fortifications along various Egyptian borders, including at the Southern Oasis of Kharga, located on a major caravan route. I’d already researched caravans pretty heavily for a sequence in DANCER OF THE NILE. That’s one nice thing about writing a series – I can build on the tidbits I’ve learned before.  Also, research suggests plot points and vice versa. Since I’m a seat-of-the-pants writer, this approach works for me! Now I know all about Kharga, including the topography and weather.

At one point, Sahure needs to tell Tyema about a battle he’s fought in beside Pharaoh. I drew a suitable tale to adapt from translations of  4000 year old eyewitness accounts of actual warfare and gave my character the right ‘memories’ to share with the heroine. I also needed to be able to talk about his weapons and tactics. Back to researching bows and arrows of the time…

Were the native people of the Southern Oasis descended from the goddess Sekhmet? They apparently thought so, which sent me off to ponder all the cool facets of her powers and background.  In many cases there are alternate versions of the myths surrounding an Egyptian deity so I’m free to choose the aspects that work for my story and to extrapolate other ideas for my plot.  

A lot of the research I do never shows up directly in the novels, so if by now you’ve been thinking that my books must be pretty dry, dusty tomes, possibly akin to the textbooks, let me reassure you. I have to be able to put myself in the headspace of ancient Egypt, so I can create characters who are believable residents of that time and place, even while they’re having these amazing adventures. I don’t have to show off all my research (except maybe in blog posts LOL). If it doesn’t serve the plot, it doesn’t go in the book, but the knowledge might influence the story’s direction.

It’s trickier than you might think though and I know I don’t always succeed. Let me give you an example from the first draft of DANCER OF THE NILE: “The chariot bounced over iron hard ruts…” The problem? The Egyptians didn’t have iron at this point in time! So I changed it to “bronze hard”…but to a modern reader that’s an unfamiliar phrase and it took me completely out of the flow when I read it. Eventually the line became: “The chariot jounced over deep, hard ruts…” 

So there's my example of how researching one thing takes me to the next and so on and so forth...

And below the art is the NOVA special on chariots:

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And Sometimes There's No Dialog

This week I'm going to share a video -  my shiny new book trailer for Magic of the Nile, which just went live yesterday.

Now Magic of the Nile isn't completely off-topic. Here's a short excerpt from the book, where the conversation in a non-action scene is definitely carrying some double meanings. Tyema the High Priestess and Captain Sahure spent the evening attending a festival together and she never told him who she really was. But now he knows. The temple scribe doesn't know any of this and has already tried to defer Sahure from meeting with Tyema until the following day, to preserve the precious schedule. (Petty bureaucrats existed in all ages!)

She caught her breath as Sahure sauntered in, resplendent in his full uniform, the golden falcon badge prominent on the leather straps crossing his broad chest, scarlet cloak swirling around his legs. He was even more handsome than she’d remembered. He bowed, “Good morning to you, my lady.”

            “And to you, captain.” With great effort, she kept a smile from forming on her lips. Unfamiliar heat pulsed in her core and she suppressed the urge to shift her hips in response.

            “I appreciate your seeing me today instead of tomorrow,” he said, staring at her with narrowed eyes.

            Oh, I couldn’t wait till tomorrow. Tyema remained regally seated in her chair with an effort, curling her fingers tight against the desire to touch him. “I’m sure your business is urgent.”

            “Indeed, I’m here at the command of Pharaoh, very pressing affairs.” He raised his eyebrows and gave a sideways glance at the scribe.

            “You may go, Jemkhufu,” she said, following Sahure’s line of sight.

            “But, my lady, what if notes need to be taken?” The scribe was startled, his eyes opening wide and his mouth hanging open. Tyema never met with anyone alone, other than the god Sobek, so she wasn’t surprised by Jemkhufu’s reaction. Swallowing hard, the scribe glared at Sahure while questioning her order for privacy again. “Are you sure you won’t need me?”

            She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “I’ll call you when we’re done.”

            The scribe gathered up his tablets, rolls of blank papyrus and sharpened quills in an untidy armful and backed from the room, closing the door. She heard him complaining to the guard about the unscheduled audience interfering with the day as the portal closed.

            Before she could say anything, Sahure was standing in front of her, his arms caging her in the chair. “And I thought Theban ladies played games,” he said. “Imagine my surprise this morning to see that the high priestess of Sobek was none other than my little waif from the previous evening. She whom I thought to be Ema was in reality the legendary and rarely seen Tyema herself.”

            “Waif?” Tyema couldn’t decide whether to be amused or insulted. True the plain dress wasn’t the best garment in her wardrobe but surely it didn’t give such an insignificant impression?

            “Were you laughing at me the entire evening?” His tone was cold. “Did you enjoy your masquerade?”

            She put one hand on his chest, trying to push him away, but under her fingers his body was solid muscle, an unyielding wall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t set out to deceive you.”

            He stared at her for a long moment before releasing the chair. He backed up a step. Hands on hips, he asked, “Then why the lie?”

Why indeed? Here's the trailer:

Inspiration Is Full of Twists, Turns & Research

For my science fiction novels I tend to be fascinated by an event, which leads me to that first "What if" question and then I'm off and running. So far I've been inspired by the sinking of the Titanic, the 1857 Sepoy Incident in India and various other real occurrences. I'll be reading or watching the news and suddenly my eyes glaze over and I start thinking in terms of a plot. I always begin from the point of what I would have done or what it must have been like and go from there.

WRECK OF THE NEBULA DREAM was inspired by the idea of retelling the story of Titanic, but set in space. I like to have a Special Forces guy as my hero in the SF novels, so I had to figure out why he'd be on board this luxury liner in the first place. Once I knew the answer to that, then the plot began coming together. At some point I realized I had to stop and design my spaceship, because the characters were moving all over and between decks in their efforts to save lives and escape the wrecked vessel. So I'd better know if the cargo hold was on level ten or level 8! I researched cruise ships, aircraft carriers and certain features on the Titanic, all of which gave me plot points and ideas. I drew a really bad schematic of my ship and kept writing.

For the paranormal novels I set in ancient Egypt, I tend to start with a situation (a dancer, captured by the enemy...or a priestess who finds it a personal challenge to be anywhere but inside the safe confines of her temple, suddenly sent to Pharaoh's Court....).

Let’s go with the latter situation, which became my latest novel MAGIC OF THE NILE. Since it’s a sequel to PRIESTESS OF THE NILE, I’d already done the research into the Crocodile God Sobek, hero of the first book and major player in the second. (My inspiration there having been the realization that the god was a shifter, which led to the question what kind of woman would catch such a being's fancy? One with a beautiful voice, since crocodiles have excellent hearing.) But for this book, since we spend time at the temple Tyema runs, I researched how Sobek’s temples were organized 4000 years ago, a lot more details about crocodiles, how processions were conducted, which deities were important in the capital city of Thebes, the hierarchy of an Egyptian temple’s priesthood, what Pharaoh would wear for different activities, what foods would be served on a big feast day…

I needed my hero Sahure to be very dashing, so he’s a charioteer, which was about as dashing as you could get in 1500 BCE. That led to research on chariots, including a wonderful NOVA special, called “Building Pharaoh’s Chariot.” (Available on dvd.) Watching a team of British researchers attempt to reconstruct the chariot of ancient times, with the help of Egyptian craftsmen, basically by studying tomb paintings and the few actual surviving chariots, was amazing.  But where does Sahure need to be in his gleaming, horse-drawn vehicle?

Well, turns out there was a chain of fortifications along various Egyptian borders, including at the Southern Oasis of Kharga, located on a major caravan route. I’d already researched caravans pretty heavily for a sequence in DANCER OF THE NILE. That’s one nice thing about writing a series – I can build on the tidbits I’ve learned before.  Also, research suggests plot points and vice versa. Since I’m a seat-of-the-pants writer, this approach works for me! Now I know all about Kharga, including the topography and weather.

At one point, Sahure needs to tell Tyema about a battle he’s fought in beside Pharaoh. I drew a suitable tale to adapt from translations of  4000 year old eyewitness accounts of actual warfare and gave my character the right ‘memories’ to share with the heroine. So I also needed to be able to talk about his weapons and tactics. Back to researching bows and arrows of the time…

Were the native people of the Southern Oasis descended from the goddess Sekhmet? They certainly thought so, which sent me off to ponder all the cool facets of her powers and background.  Sekhmet became a major player in certain events that take place in my book. In many cases there are alternate versions of the myths surrounding an Egyptian deity so I’m free to choose the aspects that work for my story and to extrapolate other ideas for my plot.  

A lot of the research I do never shows up directly in the novels, so if by now you’re thinking "Wow, her books must be dusty tomes!" hopefully I can reassure you. I have to be able to put myself in the headspace of ancient Egypt, so I can create characters who are believable residents of that time and place, even while they’re having these amazing adventures. I don’t have to show off all my research (except maybe in blog posts LOL). If it doesn’t serve the plot, it doesn’t go in the book, but the knowledge might influence the story’s direction.

For my latest science fiction romance, however, it was a single photo that made me pause and ask myself, "What if?" 89K words later and about to publish in August, turns out there was a lot of action, romance and adventure in that what if!

Do the Dancers Go Before the Crocodile God or After?

Ok, over the last few weeks I've offered up all the conference and panel insights and suggestions I have, so today, I can only offer you a scene from Magic of the Nile wherein the main character Tyema, High Priestess of Sobek from a rural province, is in Thebes. She's participating in a meeting  where they're planning a con - I mean a one day festival with parade! - to honor the Crocodile God. She'll be donating a special animal to the local temple at the god's request. The priests from the temple in Thebes aren't any too happy. (Edekh is Chief Scribe to Pharaoh.)

The door across the room, which only Pharaoh himself could use, opened and Nat-re-Akhte entered the chamber, saying as he crossed the gilded threshold, “No need to genuflect, this isn’t a formal audience.” Today he wore no crown but had the golden uraeus on his brow, held in place by a golden circlet. He carried the blue-and-gold crook and flail of his rank, ritually positioned across his chest.

            Tyema stood aside as Nat-re-Akhte walked past her to his chair, which was a golden marvel, depicting intricate scenes of himself with various gods that were far too detailed for her to fully absorb in one glance. The chair rested on intricately carved lion paws, and was set on a slightly raised dais at the head of the gleaming wooden table. The ever present fan bearers took up station behind Pharaoh and Edekh walked to a place at his right hand.

            “You may be seated,” Pharaoh said, placing the crook and flail on the table in front of him. “Which day is going to be the most propitious for this ceremony?” He gave Tyema a conspiratorial smile. “My zookeeper tells me the beast has already devoured all the fish in his pond and they’ve had to restock.”

            “I’ve cast the omens, Great One, and the day after tomorrow is the ideal date for the new ruler of the bask to be presented to the people of Thebes and installed at our temple,” said the High Priest, displaying no hesitation.

            Pharaoh nodded and Edekh made a note. Tyema sat back in her chair as the men discussed the arrangements for the procession. The city officials were also silent for the most part, apparently in the meeting to receive instructions, not to make suggestions. She had no opinion about the parade, the local Sobek priests knew their own city and how to organize things here. Perhaps she would have put the second troupe of dancing girls before the sacred image of Sobek, not after as they were going to do, but Tyema had no feeling it mattered to the Crocodile God, so she only nodded when Pharaoh courteously asked her opinion.

            The high priest continued his rundown of the sequence of events. “And when we arrive at the temple, I’ll greet you with the hymn of the seventh hour—”

            “After I’ve sung the hymn of the Abundant Nile,” Tyema said. She felt a tightening in her gut, sure now they would be in opposition. He’d rather I played no part in the day’s ceremonies. He probably wishes I’d just sent the crocodile with only old Hotepre for escort. Well, for that matter, so do I, but the Great One wanted it otherwise.

            The older priest cleared his throat for a moment, blinking. Clearly he wasn’t used to being interrupted. “No need for you to exert yourself, I’m sure. It’s one of the older, less well known hymns after all.  You can sing a brief blessing on the bask at the end of the ceremonies, if you wish. Now then, as I was saying—”

            “The Great One Sobek particularly enjoys the ‘Abundant Nile’, since it praises his efforts to keep the life giving waters flowing freely,” Tyema said, cutting across his words, her voice clear. “As he is sending his crocodile to you, personally selected by him, we need to thank him appropriately.”

            The men from the Theban temple gawked at her. Color becoming even hotter in his gaunt cheeks, the high priest blew out a breath. “My dear girl, we’re duly conscious of the honor the Great One does us here at Thebes. I merely see no need to slow the tempo of the ceremony with additional music. The crowd will naturally wish to see the crocodile installed in the pond as soon as possible.”

            “As High Priestess, it’s my responsibility to conduct the crocodile to your temple and to make the official transfer in proper order,” she said, not at all abashed by his dismissive manner. When it came to anything regarding her duty to Sobek, Tyema felt as if some measure of his strength ran in her veins, and no condescending old man from Thebes could silence her. “I’ll sing ‘Abundant Nile,’ after which you can sing whatever you feel is most appropriate to accept the gift of Sobek and then we’ll proceed to the pond. Whether our audience is one person or ten thousand people, we must honor the Great One Sobek properly.”

            “Well,” Pharaoh said, his voice solemn but his eyes twinkling, “The list of songs is decided then.”

            “Duly noted,” Edekh assured him as the palace scribe by his side made rapid inscriptions on his tablet. The temple scribe shot a wary look at his superiors, but then scratched some notes as well.

            There was an awkward moment of silence. Pharaoh raised his hand and gestured in a lazy circular motion at the priest. “Continue.”

            The man opened and closed his mouth several times before swallowing a sip of wine from the clay goblet his under priest handed him. “Um, yes, um, at the pond, we’ll open the crate—”

            “The child of Sobek doesn’t travel through Thebes in a crate,” Tyema interrupted.

            “You’re not seriously proposing to have a dangerous Nile crocodile carried loose in the procession, are you?” the old man spluttered.

            “Sobek has given me the gift of controlling his children of the Nile when circumstances warrant. I’ll ensure the animal remains calm during the parade through the city, docile until he’s installed in the pond,” Tyema said.

            “I’ve seen this gift or power in action, exactly as the Lady Tyema indicates,” Pharaoh agreed.

            “It would be most exciting,” said one of the younger priests, enthusiasm causing him to speak boldly, earning himself a glare from the High Priest. “Imagine the effect on the crowds, the crocodile on full display, yet posing no danger.”

            “Sobek has selected a magnificent animal to rule over your bask,” Tyema said. “The beast has the rare purple underbelly. It can only benefit your temple to have the people of Thebes behold this marvelous creature, not have him hidden away in a crate.”

            “Consequences will be on your head if this goes awry, if the beast causes injury,” the old priest said, his eyes flashing in anger. He bit his lip and glanced at Pharaoh, seeming to regret his outburst.

            Tyema laid a hand on the collar, touching the emeralds. “Where’s your faith in Sobek, the god we both serve?”

            “Any other concerns?” Pharaoh asked the high priest, his tone mild.

            “No, Great One. I’m satisfied with the arrangements,” he said, sounding as if he was forcing the words out one by one.

            “I’ll need to inspect the pond,” Tyema said, tapping her fingers on the table as she mentally reviewed her list of requirements. “I’m sure all your arrangements are in order, but I can’t bring Sobek’s gift to you with all the pomp and ceremony, only to find some problem in front of Pharaoh and the crowds.”

            Now she thought the old priest was going to have a full-on fit, especially as Pharaoh was nodding agreement with her. “Excellent forethought, Lady Tyema,” the ruler said. “Captain Sahure can conduct you and your crocodile keeper to the temple tomorrow morning, leaving the afternoon for any repairs or alterations to be made. On the appointed day, the palace will provide the usual beer, bread and meat for the afternoon feasting after the procession in honor of Sobek. Edekh will see to the distribution.” He rose, signaling the end of the meeting, and swept out of the chamber.

            Edekh remained, moving closer to Tyema as the high priest came around the table at her. Shaking a finger in her face, the man talked so fast he was spitting. “There’s nothing wrong with my temple’s pond, girl, and I don’t appreciate your trying to embarrass me in front of Pharaoh by suggesting there is.”

            The priest who’d agreed with Tyema before put a restraining hand on his elder’s arm. “I don’t think anyone took her words as carrying intent to insult, sir. The lady is being prudent, cautious with the Great One’s living gift to us.”

            “Sobek gave me the responsibility for his crocodile and I don’t take it lightly,” Tyema said. “I can’t.”

            “Some little nobody from the country, trying to make a place for herself here, no doubt,” the High Priest blustered on.

            “I’ve no desire to live here in Thebes. Running my own temple and managing my own concerns keeps me fully engaged,” Tyema answered, her voice sharp. She leaned toward him. “I speak directly to the god, to learn his will and desire. Surely you do the same?”

Available at Amazon   Barnes & Noble  All Romance eBooks  iTunes   Google Play Books Kobo

Copyright Veronica Scott 2014

In Ancient Egypt They Thought They Could Take It With Them

If a person writes novels set in ancient Egypt as I do, when the word for the week is "bury", where do you suppose my mind travels? Right - beautifully painted tombs, amazing sarcophagi, King Tut's mask....but the Egyptians went to all that trouble because they were trying to ensure themselves a happy afterlife, and to have everything they needed with them in that future. (Sort of you can take it with you...)

Here's a scene from Priestess of the Nile that shows a small part of what the ancient Egyptian citizen thought would happen to them, after they were buried in that well appointed tomb. (Warning: possible SPOILERS if you haven't read the book yet). I've edited and abridged this a bit from the published version, to focus on the Afterlife events:

Merys was tired of walking. Where am I going? How did I come to be in this tunnel? She contemplated the passageway filled with mist and bathed in blue light. She stumbled and stopped, one hand on the cold stone wall to steady herself. She was dressed in fine robes, bedecked with jewels. A thin gold circlet held her hair. Rings and bracelets she had never seen before adorned her hands and arms. Her shoes were soft leather, lined with fur, trimmed in gold. Merys turned to see what lay behind her. The tunnel ended at a closed door. The door fit snugly into the tunnel wall, with no handle, no hinges.

“My tomb,” she said out loud and the words echoed. She felt strangely detached from the reality. “But my family wouldn’t honor me so, even if they had the funds.”

*****

She slid down the wall and sat huddled for a few moments, mourning all she had left behind in the upper world of the living. Eventually, Merys took a deep breath and stood, using the wall for support. She smoothed her skirts and straightened her jewelry. Every Egyptian, even the children, knew at the end of this tunnel lay the Hall of Judging, where her heart would be weighed and her spirit’s ultimate fate decided. It is no less and no more terrifying than what I have already endured. ....

She walked on. A lighted chamber lay ahead and as she entered the enclosure, she found Anubis, Thoth and Lady Ma’at waiting as she expected. Anubis had the semblance of a man from the neck down, well muscled. From the shoulders up, he was a sharpfeatured, ebony-furred jackal. Long, pointed ears framed a feral face. Cold emerald eyes glowing with uncanny brilliance scrutinized her as if assessing whether she was to be his prey in some otherworldly hunt.

Breathtakingly beautiful, Lady Ma’at had a kind face and welcoming smile. She was clad in fine white robes, and many intricate necklaces formed a multicolored collar swathing her elegant neck. A scarlet ribbon headband threaded its way among the glossy curls on her head, holding a large feather, which curled gracefully back over her hair.

Thoth sat behind her, cross-legged on the floor, in the manner of all scribes. Merys rejected a mental picture of her father, working on his scrolls in the village. I won’t think of him anymore. Thoth held a sharp reed pen upraised in one well-formed hand and clasped a small oblong tablet in the other. His head was in the form of an ibis, with an elegant, long curving beak and fine green iridescent feathers. Merys had often seen such birds in the shallows of the Nile.  

*******

A scrabbling sound in the corner of the room beyond the table drew her attention to the beast Ammit, busily chewing on a pile of bones. The sheer wrongness of Ammit—heavy crocodile head blending into the neck and chest of a powerful lioness, with the sturdy hindquarters of a hippopotamus—made Merys want to vomit. All the most dangerous and fearsome predators of Egypt embodied in one obscene creature, waiting to devour the unworthy. Ammit paced in the shadows, scuttled a bit closer as if sensing Merys’s fear, the claws on her feline front legs scrabbling on the floor, while the muscles in her stumpy hippopotamus hind legs bunched as she readied herself to spring.

Merys swayed and closed her eyes.

And of course after the heart was judged, and the person managed to get past this stage of the Afterlife, they had many more perils and dangers to traverse, as documented in the well known Egyptian Book of the Dead. But hopefully they'd prepared well ahead of time and their loved ones had stocked their tomb with all the amulets and unguents and spells and paintings and tiny statues of servants that would be needed.

Did Someone Say Inner Voices?

My heroes and heroines tend to be people of action, pretty much always in motion. They have thoughts, they do grow and change over the course of the novels, but there isn't much inner dialogue. Or at least not too much that gets shared with the audience or even with me, the Author LOL!

The Egyptian god Sobek in PRIESTESS OF THE NILE, for example, is grappling with the idea of being in love with a human woman and by extension having to care about the things that concern her, like Merys's younger sister. Sobek is a force of nature, keeping the Nile flowing smoothly, so it was fun to write about him trying to understand the emotions of another person. He was especially challenged to bring his attention down to the mundane daily issues of human life but because he loves Merys so much, he makes the effort. At one point he even takes on human guise to walk through her village and see the people and the place from her viewpoint. So there were bits and pieces of his thoughts in the book, but no long, extended self debate. In fact, he's trying to hide his thoughts from the goddess Isis.

In WRECK OF THE NEBULA DREAM, my main character Nick is supposed to be using the time he's on board the luxury space liner to think about the military tribunal he's going to be facing, and to figure out what he's going to do next. I'm afraid he does a lot of drinking before the disaster happens, some gambling occurs, a tour of the ship...he's really reluctant to sit for too long, revisiting the nightmares of his last mission. He consciously avoids that pain. Once the ship comes to grief, Nick is thrown into survival mode, and trying to save other people so his thoughts tend to be along the lines of How many people can I put on this lifeboat and Is that bulkhead going to give way before I get these two trapped children to safety? There are a few moments where he's wistfully contemplating what might have been if he and the heroine had met in a better place and time but....then another crisis hits. I guess that's just how I roll as an author.

Now Khenet, WARRIOR OF THE NILE (out in September), has a recurring dream in the novel. I always feel that my dreams are my own subconscious trying to tell me something important, especially when the dream is long and detailed, or especially vivid. All of which are aspects of Khenet's dream.  Here's the way it usually begins for him:

He was walking up a small ridge, taking deep breaths of the fresh mountain air, inhaling the perfume of delicate white flowers that grew nowhere else but here. Soon he would be at the top of the rise and the village would be visible, safe in its snug valley. Only it had not been safe, had offered no shield for his people from the violent, bone breaking sickness brought one spring by a flock of migrating birds that had fallen from the sky, ill, dying. No matter how many times he had this damn dream, no matter how hard he tried, he could never control the sequence of events as they unfolded, the direst of nightmares, based on the most painful memories in his soul.

 All he could do was walk through it until the last, bitter moment when he could force himself awake. Again.

Tugged along by the dream, he walked into the village, heading down the dusty central street. The road was empty, no merchants calling out their wares, no women gossiping, no children playing…only the buildings watched him, the windows like blank eyes, doors hanging open like silent screaming mouths. Even the pets and livestock had vanished in his dream. He knew the dead lay fallen behind the walls of their dwellings.

            As he walked, unable to help himself, Khenet stared around longingly. The village itself was always unchanged, just as it had looked the day he’d hiked out, untouched by the disease, sent by his father, the village headman, on a useless journey to the provincial capital to plead for help.  Oh, Nat-re-Akhte’s grandfather the nomarch had sent help – he was a good provincial ruler – but the assistance had arrived much too late to do anything but bury the dead.

His family’s modest house stood at this end of the road.

The only good part about this dream was that he never got that far, never had to open the door and see what had happened to his parents, his brothers and sisters.

Because now the worst portion of the dream was going to begin, as it always did....

So that's about as inner monologue-y as I ever get...

(You can find out more about WARRIOR on my web page and it is up for pre-order...but I'm afraid you won't be able to see how the dream turns out until September 16th!)

(Photo at the top of the blog post from SXC by ba1969, photo directly above is from the Author)