The God of the Great Above
‘You really are Horus the Elder, God of the Great Above!’ he called out loud, looking both shocked and astonished. ‘They say the Sun is your right eye, and the Moon is your left. They say the peregrine falcon flies ever-between, filling the heavens with shadow and flame.’
‘And what do they call you, stranger?’ Ashlar addressed him, thankful for the Taal’kai in his spine that allowed him to utter every tongue in creation.
‘Kunai, O Horus. Kunai un-Nefer!’
‘Kunai un-Nefer,’ Ashlar repeated. ‘This crystal is a limitless relic. Unbound by space or by time, it had belonged to a weeping Goddess. I am sorry to hear about your Slave Master, yet I cannot risk the artefact for any worldly reason. The umm Great Eye of Horus must not interfere in the affairs of men,’ he added smartly.
Kunai lowered his gaze. ‘I understand, O Distant One. I merely wanted to restore my Master’s honour; to restore my honour. Thank you, O Horus, for healing my body of old wounds and aches,’ he added, placing the crystal in Ashlar’s bandaged hand.
At once, the flock of floating mud-bricks collapsed into the sand. The desert was gradually filled by the acquainted sound of whip-lashing and stone-pulling. Kunai lifted his countenance.
‘It matters not, Distant One. Gods be good, we have been touched by their grace. By hand and whip, we shall complete the mastaba before the first light.’
To be continued...