Natalie Yacobson - Mistress of Pharaohs. Daughter of Dawn

“Well, then maybe I should be disappointed that you’ve become marble?”

“It’s healthier to be marbleized on earth. We’ve become stronger. Our touches kill people. Once a man enters our ring, he is destroyed.”

“I don’t care about people,” Alais shook her golden curls.

“And they care about you and your secrets. You know that some renegade from your armies has begun to teach humans speech and angelic skills. These creatures would have remained as unintelligent as animals if he had not put in them the ability to cut fire, to make iron, to make weapons, even to speak. Because of him, people have become enemies to us.”

“And who is this renegade?” Alais thought feverishly. Indeed, from the beginning, humans were like cattle. They wore no clothes, couldn’t cook food. They didn’t know about intelligent speech and weapons. Then suddenly these creatures became intelligent. They went from savages to civilized beings. There was clearly a higher being at work here, teaching them all the things only angels knew.

“It’s either that angel I think is dead, or one who has partially lost his memory and doesn’t know what he’s doing himself,” Alaïs didn’t allow for the idea that someone could have deliberately betrayed her. After all, he was betraying himself that way, too. Why create an enemy against race of angels?

“We haven’t identified him yet, or even seen him,” Setius answered in a flimsy way, “but the wind has been telling us rumors about him.”

“You shouldn’t believe the wind,” Alais clenched her hand into a fist and triggered a sandstorm. The wind roared and swirled into a hurricane, but the angel statues stood unshaken. The sand could have swept them upside down. The wind could blow with incredible power, and the living statues did not move an inch. They stood beside Alais, waiting for orders.

“To forgive you is to put yourself in danger. Where is the guarantee that you will not betray again? Traitors will always be traitors,” Alais said, feeling a slight prick of conscience. The last of the seven angels was special. Amadeo had not participated in the war at all, but barely had his friends been exiled from paradise as he had volunteered to follow them. Apparently, enduring hardship in their company was more pleasant to him than living carefree in heaven. Amadeo looked innocent now, but time would pass and he would become embittered.

“Go away!” Alaïs was adamant. “I don’t need you anymore.”

“But…” Setius tried again, but in the end he realized that his pleas had no effect.

“I never forgive anyone,” Alais glanced indifferently at the seven winged statues frozen in the sands in bewilderment. Their faces were astonished. It would be a long time (probably many centuries) before they felt insulted and made plans for revenge. Then she will shatter them into a thousand pieces. She is strong enough. A single punch of her fist would be enough. Alais looked down at her gold-encrusted palm. She could smash the living marble right now. But should she? Let her former standard – bearers live and suffer.

Having fallen to earth, many angels have realized that death is a mercy. Most likely, they weren’t exterminated only to be cast down into the wilderness to continue to suffer for all eternity. It was better for the angels to die, but God invented an elaborate punishment for them. One thing he didn’t think of was that Alais benefited from having an army of her own. Even though her legions are burned, they are still strong. With them in reserve, she can do whatever she wants with the land.

“If you think the men are dangerous, I will deal with them,” she tossed at her former standard – bearers one last time.

The seven statues stood on the barchans. The sand was dragging them down. A long time had passed. So much sand came down that the statues were hidden under it, but they stubbornly continued to stand and wait for the Mistress to forgive them. It was not until several years later that they realized that waiting was pointless. Then they flapped their marble wings, shook off the sand, and flew away. Alais stared blankly after them.

Some caravan was caught in their marble claws. Blood flowed across the desert. Somewhere jackals howled, and marble fingers tormented the flesh of men.

“You will regret telling us to leave,” Setius’s angry thoughts echoed to Alais.

So far, she hadn’t regretted it. Without the seven standard – bearers, she could get along just fine. Besides, she didn’t have a standard anymore. There was nothing left to carry into battle. All the standards had burned away, along with the heavenly appearance of the fallen angels. Their power is no longer beauty, but terror, and monstrous strength.

Setius, Noreus, Doriel, Maestem, Ramiel, Novelin, and Amadeo disappeared behind the desert. This is even better. She needs only loyal warriors. The monsters left with her have proven they can be loyal. So they’re the ones to bet on.

There was more and more gold in the desert. You’d think it was the sunlight that was breeding it. In fact, Alais was playing a game. She picked up handfuls full of sand and let it slip through her fingers. Eventually everything around her turned golden.

“Where do you go with so much sand and so much gold?” Alais looked around at the vast expanse, gleaming with magical gilding.

Remy understood her question in his own way. He immediately dispatched a company of builders from her demons. Soon a huge palace was erected in the desert. It was made entirely of golden blocks. There was so much gold in the desert that it could be used as building material.

Alais glanced indifferently at the golden piles, columns, and arches. This palace was a faint parody of heavenly mansions. But since heaven was far away, that should be enough.

One could wander the golden halls for days, but eventually Alais grew bored with such a pastime. Sitting under a desert starry sky was far more pleasant than living in a golden palace, as if in a crypt. Black-winged demons nested among the golden pillars. Alais told them to draw signs in the sand around the building to keep travelers from seeing the palace. Gold was too much of a temptation for humans.

Remy’s gift went unappreciated, but his diligence awakened the builder in Alais. She ordered a cohort of demons to build a huge palace out of sand. The entire structure was supported only by spells. The ceiling and walls crumbled as soon as the magic wore off.

A traveler stopped by the sand palace one day. Alais watched him, lying on the flat roof. The wayfarer couldn’t see her, but she saw him. It’s so convenient to watch people from above, as if they were insects. It’s a good thing people can’t fly, or they would know that angels live in the heights.

“This is the king’s messenger,” Remy determined at a glance.

“So what is of it? You think I give a damn about people’s ranks and titles?”

“He comes from the United Realm,” Remy said, his eyes tensing. For a moment there was the thought that he was going to run down and tear the ambassador apart.

“Yes, I remember, the Upper Kingdom and the Lower Kingdom united,” Alais broke off an ornament from the sand pediment, crumbled it into the sand, and sprinkled the grains of sand down. The sand fell beneath the messenger’s feet, but he didn’t even realize it was a joke of the celestials. He boldly walked into the sand palace.

“The country is now called Egypt,” Remy reported. He flew everywhere and learned about everything.

“What business is it of ours?”

“If it had not been for your efforts, the Upper Kingdom and the Lower Kingdom would not have joined together, and Egypt simply would not exist.”