Tsydon

The Sun On The Horizon

Thirteen

Eshmun's Gift

the breath of love, the gift of blood 

Daniel in the arms of Ba'al and Astarte 

 Artwork: The Triad by Victor Haddad 

Daniel woke slowly. Muted sounds filtered into his brain, gradually sorting into a recognisable rise and fall of people singing. Eyelids too heavy to open, he lay still and tried to work out where he was. Soft, cool sheets underneath his body suggested a bed. The air was warm, nothing unusual there, but it was rich with layered scents of earth, pollen and flowers. He released a deep sigh, which turned into a groan as fire streaked up his spine.

His eyes fluttered open, the pain dragging him out of his stupor. He lay on his side in a bed of snowy white sheets. Greenery tumbled down the walls and he could hear water splashing somewhere close.

Eshmun’s temple.

A damp cloth was placed on his forehead, making him jump.

“Be at ease, Adon,” a kindly male voice said.

“Helel?” Daniel looked up and managed to focus on Helel, who was leaning over him. His vision blurred and a dull throb started up in his head. He closed his eyes and sagged into the pillows. “Where are we?”

“We are in the retreat, in the Temple of Eshmun. Are you in pain, Adon?”

“Yes. What happened?”

“Shh. Rest, Adon. Our Lord will relieve your discomfort soon.”

Daniel listened to Helel moving about the room. He remembered the evening before all too clearly. The Goa'uld mating ritual had lasted the entire night. By the time Ba'al and Astarte had disengaged, then slithered up their host’s stupefied bodies and re-entered them, Daniel had been semiconscious, cramps and numbness in his limbs warring with the pain spearing up his spine into his head.

The tangled ball of Goa'uld had eventually ceased their play and returned to their hosts. Once repossessed, the humans had returned to life, their very own Frankensteins powering their movements once again. They had freed Daniel, dressed him and raised him to their shoulders, gently carrying him out of the cavern, along the eerie path and up into a world coming alive under a new dawn. Somewhere along the way he’d finally passed out.

He kept still, not moving arms or legs and trying not to acknowledge the fear that Astarte had done serious damage to him. Content to drift in limbo, he dozed. An unknown time later, a hand on his shoulder brought him awake.

“Come, Daniel. Will you sleep the entire day?” Ba'al sat on the bed next to him. “Helel tells Us you are in pain.”

Daniel stared dully at him, unable to even muster a glare. “What did you do to me?”

Ba'al’s eyebrows rose in mock innocence. “We did nothing to you. However, Our Lady may have, as ever, been a little too enthusiastic in her task.” He waved a healing device. “We have come to put you to rights, Daniel.”

Too sick and in pain to argue, Daniel shut his eyes. Moments later warmth swept up his back. It spread out, healing and revitalising, making him feel as if he’d been reborn. The stiffness in his legs and arms disappeared, the pain in his back and head vanished, leaving a glow that had him sighing with relief. He rolled onto his back and looked up at Ba'al’s smug face.

“Thank you.”

“It brings Us pleasure to see you well, Daniel.”

“What did you do to me, you bastard?”

“Now, now. You bore witness to a ceremony no other human has seen, Daniel. We have honoured you greatly.”

“Yeah, I’m touched. Okay – Astarte took my spinal fluid, and you mated with her, which was completely disgusting by the way. You’re breeding a batch of fertile Goa'uld. How am I doing so far?”

Ba'al gazed appraisingly at him. “Such intellect. This is why we chose you to help Us, Daniel.”

“Really? I don’t think so. You chose me because I was stupid enough to get zapped in the head with the hand device by a few Goa'uld. And now you’re using me to breed fertile Goa'uld. Who are you planning to capture and implant with your baby snakes?”

“Only one baby, Daniel. As you observed, Our true mating is a lengthy and tiring process. We can only ever produce one potent child at a time. We have not done so for millennia, Daniel. But now, Our Love is ready. She demands a child to share Our empire, and We felt inclined to agree.”

“One….” His fist was swinging up as the words sank in. Ba'al blocked the blow and pinned his arms to the bed, leaning close over him. “Get off me! You lying—I knew—I knew you’d never keep your word. You are going to turn me into a host.” Cold fear gnawed at him as he stared up into Ba'al’s face.

“Daniel. Daniel! You are an intelligent man – think! How long has the Shol’va Teal'c kept his infant Goa'uld?” Ba'al gripped his upper arms and shook him. “How long?”

“What? Junior?”

“Junior?” Ba'al blinked, momentarily distracted.

“Jack calls it…. Never mind. Teal'c’s had it for years. Well, he’s had the new one four years. I don’t know how long he had the previous one. Why?”

“Did you ever see the infant? Was it pink and unformed?”

“Yes.”

“It is immature, Daniel. An immature Goa'uld requires many years of incubation before it is capable of controlling a host. If Astarte has successfully conceived, and it is by no means assured, the infant will need years to mature. We have no plans to use your body as a host.”

“Years?”

“Years.”

Ba'al released his arms, and Daniel collapsed into the bed. “Then what was last night all about? Why did she need my DNA to conceive?”

Ba'al leaned back and considered him for a moment. “Our Lady Astarte has become most fond of you, Daniel. In appearance you resemble Our lost Eshmun. Your manner also reminds Us both of him. With him brought so clearly to mind every time she sees you, it was inevitable that her desire for a child was rekindled, and you were the only one she would accept the human code from.”

“You need the code to prevent rejection from a Jaffa or host.”

“Yes.”

Daniel rubbed his hands over his face and swore quietly. “There’s more. Isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Why am I here? In Eshmun’s temple, and not in the citadel? You still want the information.” He stared up at the flowering vines twined over the ceiling. “It’s nothing from Osiris or Amonet, is it?”

“No.”

“I worked it out, you know. Not that it was so hard when I started dreaming their dreams. Things I never saw or did myself, but they’re in my head, unearthed by your damn machine. It’s the ribbon device – whatever you call it.”

“Ninvane’tak.”

“Ninvane’tak. You use it to throw someone across a room, and that’s okay. You can use it to burn, to torture, that’s okay too. But you only ever use it on someone’s brain when you mean to kill them. That’s what you meant by ‘always finish that which you begin’.” He snuck a peek at Ba'al who sat there, looking back with an interested frown on his face.

“The Ninvane’tak requires a what… connection with your own brain to power it? You direct the power into another’s brain and it will kill, but it does more than that. It takes something from you, channels your thoughts, your memories into the other. That’s why you can’t let them live.”

Ba'al’s expression was transformed into admiration.

“Sha’re used the connection to talk to me while Amonet was trying to kill me. But Teal'c stopped her.” Daniel spoke without inflection, unable to muster any emotion. Or perhaps because he knew if he did he wouldn’t be able to control it.

“And Osiris? How did you stop him?”

“A drug. We made a drug from the stuff in the jar that Isis had been kept in. I stabbed her with it.”

Ba'al shook his head. “You amaze Us, Daniel. Do you know, you are the only person, in all of Goa'uld-held territory, in all the time We have ruled as a System Lord, the only person to have survived a lethal attack by the Ninvane’tak?”

Daniel continued to stare at the ceiling. Ba'al was talking openly now; he had to push for as much information as he could.

“So, is it Klorel’s knowledge you’re after?” He thought it unlikely, but it was possible. With Apophis gone, Ba'al could be after the secrets his son possessed.

Ba'al abruptly stood. “Klorel?” He peered at Daniel like he had suddenly transmuted into a murex snail. “Klorel!”

“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

“We knew you were present at his extraction, but how did he….”

“Fry my brains?” It was old news now, and nothing Ba'al couldn’t access with the machine. “We were on his ship which was headed to Earth. He caught me and…. Jack killed him.” And Skarra. Temporarily.

“Remarkable.” Ba'al started pacing around the bed. “Quite remarkable.”

And then there was one.

Somehow Daniel knew, from the moment he’d realized the visions in his head were the memories of Goa'uld who had attacked him with the Ninvane’tak. Ba'al had to be after the knowledge that had been transferred into his brain while Ra attempted to kill him, on board his ship, the Mi’Canah, on Abydos.

It explained the crippling headaches he’d suffered after each attack. Fighting them on Klorel’s ship, he’d soon been shot and had dragged his bloody, broken body to the sarcophagus, where his injuries and his headaches had been healed. After Amonet, Janet had kept him dosed on morphine for days. She’d helped him after Osiris too, administering pain relief while he lay semi-conscious in the jeep, next to Stephen, as Sam frantically drove them back to Saqqara.

After Ra there had been no morphine. Everything had happened so quickly. Jack, Feretti and Kowalski had bid their goodbyes, and in the midst of the burgeoning celebrations he’d been overcome by the pain in his head and collapsed in Sha’re’s arms. Their honeymoon had consisted of her tenderly nursing him through boughts of nausea and agony. The thought of her made him smile.

“You’re after whatever was transferred into me when Ra tried to kill me with the hand device,” he stated flatly. Then his brow creased with another question. “How could you know he did it?”

If Osiris was working with Ba'al, he might have told Ba'al about his attempt to kill Daniel. But the only people who knew about Ra were Jack and Feretti, and whoever on Earth had authorization to read the mission report. None of Ra’s Jaffa had survived. Unless… Klorel had found out through Skarra, or Amonet through…. Did the Goa'uld share intelligence like that? “Who told you?” He sat up, anger building at the thought of his family having their memories stolen and sold. “Tell me, dammit.”

Surprised by his vehemence, Ba'al sat back down on the bed. “We were given the information six months ago, Daniel. Rest assured it did not come from those who took your wife or brother.”

Annoyed at being so transparent, he rested his back against the pillows. “Who then?”

“It came from Our other partner, one who does not wish you to know their name yet.”

“Who doesn’t want me to know their name. Right.” Daniel tried going through his list of Goa'uld-I-have-met-and-not-yet-killed, then got diverted by another thought. What if it’s not a Goa'uld? Someone from Earth. NID? Or Aris Boch? No…. Who then?

Another question rose over the others. “What is it of Ra’s that you want? Surely his fleet and Jaffa have all been snapped up by other Goa'uld?” They’d seen Horus-helmeted Jaffa in the employ of both Hathor and Heru’ur.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with these questions, Daniel.” Ba'al glanced toward the doors, and Daniel noticed a group of red robed priests kneeling in the open doorway. “The time approaches for a most important ceremony.”

Jeez, not another one. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

Ba'al smiled, more sad than amused. “It is ironic that Our Lady’s belief that you are Eshmun returned has presented Us with the means to heal the scarring which blocks the information we seek.”

Daniel tensed. “What do you mean?”

“Her desire to have Eshmun alive once again dictates that Eshmun’s Gift be celebrated with Our people. You, dear Adon, will take Eshmun’s place, give his Gift, then lie in his resting place and be healed. At the same time, Eshmun’s sarcophagus will heal the scarring on your neural pathways and when you awaken We will have that which We have sought. And Our Lady will have her Eshmun.”

The words froze him, bounced through his skull with sickening repetition. Gift. Healed. Sarc— Daniel exploded into action, bare foot striking Ba'al’s ribs as he dove off the side of the bed. He didn’t even reach the floor. Ba'al grabbed his leg and dragged him back. Daniel twisted and kicked and punched, but Ba'al easily deflected the blows and threw his body over Daniel’s, flattening him to the bed.

“Before you accuse Us of lying again, We promised not to put you in Our sarcophagus. Eshmun’s sarcophagus has been modified to operate over extended periods. Our Lady believes you to be our son, and We are willing to accommodate her. You will sleep for four months, and rise with the spring. You will be Ours for the planting season and will give Us that which We seek. Then you shall be Our Lady’s until the summer dies and you shall sleep again.”

“No—You’re insane. I can’t stay in a sarcophagus for months.” The thought of it made his mind blank in panic. “Please, there must be some other way….”

“There is not. You are Ours now, Adon. You will serve Us, and you will serve Our Lady. It will be a good life, Adon. You will want for nothing and be loved as you have never before been loved.” As Ba'al spoke the Breath of the Gods drifted from his lips, seeping into Daniel’s skin and stealing his will. Gradually his hands, clenched against Ba'al, lost strength and fell limp to the bed.

“Don’t….” Daniel’s voice trailed away, stolen like everything else he possessed. Ba'al owned him and he was powerless to stop what was about to happen.

Izram

Ba'al gave him over to the priests. Red-robed and silent, they took him to the centre of the room, stripped him and washed his body with warm sponges. After patting his skin and hair dry, they shaved his face, then proceeded to massage oil into every inch of his body. Heady aromas of myrrh and myrtle wreathed his senses, combining with the Nishta and making him dizzy. Ba'al stood close by, supervising the process with a critical eye. Daniel tried to resist, to pull his arms out of the men’s grasp, to move away, somewhere, but each attempt was thwarted easily and even if he succeeded, he knew he would get no further than Ba'al. The drug coursing through his veins dragged his attention to the Goa'uld relentlessly.

With the oil absorbed into his skin, the priests moved their efforts to his hair, combing, brushing, twisting strands together with threads of silver and attaching diamond adornments that sparkled and chimed when he moved. Next were two gold armbands, intricately engraved, placed securely over his biceps. Then a familiar tinkle drew his eyes from Ba'al to Astarte’s ‘favour’. One priest fastened the diamond band to his left leg. He looked up and caught Daniel staring at him. It was one of the priests who had discovered him in the river – Shapash? Total adoration filled the man’s face and his eyes brimmed with tears.

Unnerved, Daniel looked away and found him, now standing by his side, so alluring in the midnight purple of his clothes. Ba'al held a velvet box, open and offered to Daniel. Inside, an enormous ruby gleamed, fire sparkling from its facets. Shapash bowed deeply and lifted the gem from its cushion. Entranced by the life in the stone, Daniel didn’t see what the other priests were doing until a sharp pain made him flinch. Many hands held him in place. He looked down, appalled to see a long needle being withdrawn from the fold of skin over his navel. A trickle of blood was wiped away, then the ruby’s gold hook was slipped through the piercing. The gem dangled from his body, a glittering treasure, which drew murmurs of approval from the men around him. A fine rope of champagne-coloured diamond studs was produced and looped around his waist, the ends fastened to either side of the ruby. The diamonds settled over his hipbones – a dazzling chain that bound him to Ba'al as emphatically as the Nishta in his blood.

The triumph, the sheer possessiveness in Ba'al’s eyes swamped Daniel. The fight went out of him. He barely registered the sheer red robe draped over his body, or the red veil that floated down over his face. Then the priests were gone and Ba'al was all he could see.

His tormentor caught him up, hugged him close, his Breath in every one of Daniel’s breaths. “Ah, Daniel. We knew the moment We first saw you, your beauty laid out before Us, so innocent, so perfect. We knew your coming to Our home would be of such importance to Us. You have made Our Love so happy, and for that We thank you. She is alive now, as she has not been since the first Eshmun passed.” Ba'al’s voice tickled in his ear, his body pressed firmly to Daniel’s. “We vow, here and now, to protect you and cherish you. You will never want, and We will see you happy always.”

Ba'al’s hands moved to his face, caressed his jaw, his cheeks, his brow. He pressed his mouth to Daniel’s, kissed him long and tenderly through the veil. Daniel melted into the embrace, possessed and completely lost.

“Come, Our Adon.” Ba'al took his hand. “Darkness falls.”

sacrifice

The hand holding his drew him out of the room, down paths lined with green ferns and brilliant flowers. Then she was there, standing alone, her beauty outlined by the fading light of day. She was dressed the same as her Lord, gossamer cloth of deepest purple, diamonds sparkling in her hair, from her wrist, breasts, waist and ankles.

She held out her hand to him and he went without hesitation.

“It is you,” she murmured in his ear, her hands slipping under his robes, leaving trails of desire across his skin. She pulled his head down, met his lips with hers. New passion flooded into him, mingling with the first, a crescendo of need that consumed him. He moved against her, but she drew back, pink mist connecting them. He hardened quickly, blind to all but desire. She smiled and stayed him with her command. “Not yet, my love. Your Gift must be shared tonight.”

She took his hand, he took the other, and together they drew him through the vast open doors, out into a warm twilight lit by flickering torch fire. Soft grass tickled his feet. They moved him across an open space, the red-robed men leading the way. Past the stone legs of the one who had gone before him, down the side of the track that led to the temples of his Lord and Lady. Another path swallowed them into the forest.

Unsure, he faltered, but his Lord and Lady comforted him and he went, knowing he was theirs. The path widened into a large grotto, wet rock under his feet announced the spring, which bled water from the earth. The priests withdrew to the sides and he could see where the rock dropped away, letting the water crash down and down, from one stone pool to another, eventually to make the Bodashtart. The river wound between the temples of his Lord and Lady, and flowed on, giving its life to the city.

They held him still on the very edge of the rock, cold water flowing over their feet. Below, the open spaces were filled with the people of the city. At his appearance, a wail of grief such as he’d never heard rose up, thousands of voices combined in sadness.

“Why are they crying?”

“They grieve for you, dear Eshmun.” His Lady kissed his hand, her tears falling on his palm. “Their sadness is my sadness, love. You must leave us now.”

Her words filtered slowly through the fog in his head. With effort, he extracted her meaning. “I… don’t… want… to go….”

“Nor do we wish to be parted from our love.” His Lord kissed his other hand. “But the time is upon us. It must be.”

A deep chant rose up from the priests behind them, was caught up by the watchers below and thrown back, amplified a thousand-fold.

Fear began to twist inside him. The torchlight flickered red, the faces of his Lord and Lady were red tinged, everywhere, everything was the colour of red.

“Please….”

A crack of thunder drowned his voice. The people below paused, then took up the chant again, ever louder. His Lord moved closer, slipped the robe from his body. Barely concealed by it, he now stood nude before the people, aroused and trembling. The veil was lifted from his face, but still the world seemed tinged with red.

They took his hands, pressed close to his sides. His Lady reached out, curled her fingers over his arousal. His Lord’s hand covered hers, and together they made him fill, unbearable need consumed him, until sudden climax released him. His seed soared out of him, over the edge of the rocks and down, mingling with the water. The crowd below erupted with cheering, those closest to the river dipped their hands in to touch his blessing.

He sagged in their arms, breath catching, legs shaking. Their strength held him up; their love buoyed his heart. He could not look away from the waving crowd below, even the rip of thunder in the sky seemed to approve of his offering.

A sharp prick of pain made him flinch. He stared at his hands, at the two thin glass tubes now protruding from either wrist. Two more stabs, high on his legs near his exhausted manhood from identical tubes, inserted by his Lord. Bright blood emerged from the tubes and plopped into the water swirling past his feet. The cloud of red thickened and flowed over the edge, falling down into the first pool. A wail rose from the spectators – but grief was replaced now with joy, with excitement. They wanted his blood.

“No… nonononononoooo…” His protest barely audible, he tried to pull away, but their grip was too strong. The Lady was weeping loudly, her fingers pressed harder into his flesh as the blood flowed freely. It poured down his sides, down his legs. Red fire glinted from the ruby. His Lord’s free hand brushed his belly, the gesture meant for comfort, bringing none.

Cold seeped through his body. He began to shake. His heart tripped in his chest, faltered and picked up its beat, pounding harder to do its work with an ever-diminishing resource. He gasped for air, unable to draw in enough breath.

Lightning rent the sky, one then another jagged bolt. A third split a mighty tree in two, setting it afire. In the hellish glow, the people danced and sang, splashed in the Bodashtart, covering themselves with its red waters.

He exhaled, a stutter of air left his cold lips. He tried to breathe, but his lungs refused. His heart tripped, stopped for agonising seconds, pounded once, twice, struggled for a third.

The blood flow was easing. Unable to keep his head up, he sagged. There was a roaring in his ears, drowning the cheer of the revellers. He managed one more breath. His heart tried to go on. It failed. Red clouded his vision. His eyes rolled and he slumped in the arms around him. Sounds faded.

Four small twinges were the last he felt. He was light, untethered to the world of noise and pain. He floated up. He drifted down. His last dregs of consciousness registered golden light.

And then there was nothing.

Å

On to chapter fourteen - Flight of the Phoenix

~Tsydon~ Book Two 

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The Death of Adonis by Victor Haddad