Embedded Files
The Sun On The Horizon
Seven
The Rise of Eshmun
English translation of the Phoenician words in this chapter can be found at the bottom of the page.
Daniel and Astarte
Artwork: Lamp of Psyche, Victor Haddad
Sleep faded in a tangle of broken dreams and ruined hopes. He lay drifting in a grey void, eyes firmly shuttered against the realities of the day, but however much he wanted to avoid them, recollections of last night’s events seeped into his memory, replaying in an endless loop, driving home just how much he’d been pinning his hopes on Ba'al’s talk of peace. He’d known the Goa'uld was not to be trusted, none of them could, and yet he’d wanted to believe, wanted to invest some of himself in a future that promised peace. Not just for his planet but for all of them out there – their people labouring away under the grinding heel of slavery and oppression. And he couldn’t deny he wanted it for himself, too. Five years of fighting on the front lines in a war that promised no hint of a resolution - he was worn to the bone with it, tired in body and soul and even worse, he feared he had little left to give, that his efforts would not be enough when it really counted and he would let his team down in the one moment they needed him. The thought of them being lost when he could have, should have, prevented it…. He had enough nightmares to cope with.
Little wonder he’d clutched at Ba'al’s honeyed words like they offered his own personal salvation. It was too big a promise to have ignored. Now it was just another sham, a lie designed to curry his cooperation in his own defilement. The disintegration of hope was something he should be used to. He felt a chasm of despair yawning beneath his feet, threatening to suck him in. He had nothing left now….
Daniel’s eyes flew open – thrown completely awake in one shocking jolt. He hung in limbo, uncertain of anything except a dread that something else was wrong. Very wrong. He stared at his hand, clenched on the pillows next to him. Something was missing… what – oh, god.
“Sha’re.” He whispered her name, his whole soul clenching in fright. His mind went blank, empty of everything, even his own name. All he knew was a hole existed within him. He had to find her yet he baulked, panicked at the thought of not being able to remember her anymore. His hand curled into the pillow, crushing it. He took a deep breath, prepared for the agony and pushed himself to find her….
There! Her bright pixie face smiled down at him, dark sweet-scented hair curled over her face, she reached out to him… and he felt her hand on his cheek. A wordless pain-filled grunt escaped him. He still had her…. The relief was overwhelming, and the anger that swiftly followed it was enough to push him up and out of the bed. His pants had been removed by whoever had returned him last night. He cast about for something to put on – and froze. Ba'al was calmly seated in an armchair, staring at him with curious regard.
“You bastard,” spat Daniel. “You lying, miserable snake.” He lunged forward, fist clenching, arm swinging back, fury building hot and quick.
Ba'al rose to meet him, intercepting the blow with admirable reflexes. He grabbed Daniel’s wrist and twisted, using Daniel’s momentum to swing him around. He wasn’t quick enough to dodge the elbow that smashed into his face, right between the eyes. Ba'al staggered back into the chair but his grip on Daniel’s arm didn’t slacken. Daniel rammed his left elbow into the Goa'uld’s throat, heedless of the pain shooting up his right arm as Ba'al pushed it up between his shoulder blades. Ba'al growled in his ear and pinned Daniel’s left arm in an iron grip. A wriggle and a shove and Daniel was toppling off him to land on the soft rug, Ba'al’s weight crushing him into the pile.
“I will kill you, I promise,” Daniel ground out. “If I never do anything else in my life, I will see you dead and hung on a fence, you son of a bitch.”
Ba'al coughed and cleared his throat. “Come now, Daniel. We can discuss this situation like civilized men.”
Daniel heaved up but without the use of his arms he couldn’t shift the Goa'uld off his back. “You’re not civilized and you’re not a man. You’re a reptile, a parasite, a leech, alep, tahvt mekir, dool hikmat….” His Phoenician pronunciation was rusty but the words rose up from the depths of his memory with as much venom as he could muster.
“Such language! You are angry, my Daniel. We understand.”
“Angry! I haven’t even begun to be angry. “I, I’ll… nasak ssohr yawm Ba'al mt.”
“Shhh, calm yourself, Daniel. You feared the loss of your memories. How could you not when you are unfamiliar with Our devices? It is most unfortunate that you woke last night, just as We were at the point of examining the neural pathways that contained the memories of your unhappy meeting with your wife.”
Infuriated, Daniel cried out and lurched to one side, trying to shake off the body on top of him. He succeeded in rolling onto his side but Ba'al remained plastered against his back, trapping his arms and throwing a leg over Daniel’s for good measure.
“We feel the pain you suffer, Daniel,” Ba'al murmured. “We know what it is to lose one We love and how precious their memory is. Believe Us when We say We would never deprive you of the comfort of your wife’s memory. Believe Us.”
“I don’t. I don’t believe anything you say anymore. And the minute you let me go I’m gonna kill you. Believe me.”
Ba'al chuckled, his breath sending a shiver down Daniel’s spine. “No-one will be dying, We promise you that. You do not yet accept Our goals, Daniel. When you do and when you appreciate the role you will play in freeing the people of the galaxy from millennia of torment and slavery, We hope you will forgive Us for the insensitive methods We have employed and the hurt you have experienced.” He tightened his grip into an intimate hug. “Your name will be blessed and praised for all time, Daniel.”
Daniel heaved up again but couldn’t budge the Goa'uld one inch. “I don’t want to be praised or blessed or lied to or anything. Why are you doing this to me?”
“We have not lied, Daniel. Our actions have been, upon reflection, no doubt hard for you to understand, but We have not lied. You do possess unique knowledge that We require to bring Our plans to fruition.”
Daniel shook his head, straining against the iron-like grip on his limbs. “If my ‘knowledge’ is so unique and your intentions so honourable, why not just ask me for what I know? Why the subterfuge? Why kidnap me in the first place?”
“Ah. So, if We had issued an invitation for you to come to Our home and subject yourself to Our neural scanning process, you would have accepted? We see the error of Our ways.” Ba'al’s voice was loaded with sarcasm. “No doubt you would have presented yourself immediately, with the redoubtable Colonel O'Neill at your side. We perhaps would not have been accommodating of the Jaffa Teal'c, or Major Carter with her alliances to the Tok’ra – they may have stolen away Our loyal warriors before we could have drawn breath.”
Daniel suppressed a sudden pang at the thought of having Jack here with him. “So you got me here, why not just ask what you want to know, instead of drugging me and dragging me down to that… thing every night?”
“Alas, dear Daniel, the knowledge we require is shrouded within your memory to such an extent that – as Our experts advised Us – had we questioned you openly, your attempts to remember may have only succeeded in burying the memories deeper. The neural scanning was the only way We could find what is needed without damage to either the knowledge you hold or indeed, your own precious memories. Deception was required, and it has become Our undoing. We do bear you no ill intent, Daniel. We wish you to understand this.”
“No, I don’t buy that. Memory doesn’t work like that – and anyway how the hell can you possibly know that I know something when I don’t even know I know it?” Okay, that sounded like one of Jack’s lines, but it served the purpose.
“We have a… source. An irrefutable source, and no, We are unable to divulge their name just at this moment.”
He sighed and let his head thump down on the polished floor, the fight going out of him. Ba'al would never admit to what he was really after. Daniel knew deep down that waiting for rescue from the SGC was a long shot. He was going to have to help himself. Somehow he’d have to find a way off this planet. He’d not even seen a Stargate so far. If Ba'al had one it was probably hidden, so that left a ship of some kind.
“So what now? You going to keep drugging me, lock me up in my ivory tower, or just lay here all day? Won’t your ‘Companions’ get jealous?”
Ba'al chuckled a little and relaxed his grip. Daniel pulled his arms forward and rolled away, bounding to his feet and retreating behind the armchair.
“We wish your stay with Us to be as pleasant as possible,” Ba'al said, propping his head on one hand, reclining comfortably on the floor. “To that end, Our Companions have planned to take you on a picnic today – to one of the most beautiful parks Our city possesses.”
“A pic- a- wha…?” Daniel blinked at him. More and more he felt like he was falling down a never-ending rabbit hole.
“Come, see, they await your presence in the gardens below.” Ba'al rose elegantly, strode over to the open windows and disappeared out onto the balcony.
Completely non-plussed, Daniel scrubbed a hand through his hair, then over his face for good measure. Nope, I am awake. I think. He took two steps after Ba'al then altered course and snagged up a throw from the couch and wrapped it around his waist. He ventured out onto the balcony, keeping his distance from Ba'al, and peered down into the gardens. Sure enough, there were the Companions – Consorts and Concubines – milling on the grass amongst a pile of wicker baskets, rugs and servants.
He slid a sidelong glance at Ba'al. “And what happens after this little picnic? You drug me and rape my memories again?”
“A harsh word to use, Daniel. We are merely… browsing for the information We require. It does no harm at all. You have not felt any ill affects, We believe?”
“No harm? Are you-, jeez, you have no concept of the word. You’re rifling through my memories, the very things that make me – me. It’s rape, pure and simple and I’ve….” Gone through that once already. Twice…? His brain insisted on supplying the doubt that he’d managed to keep at bay for a couple of years now. No point in dragging it up here and now. Focus. “I’ve had enough people messing with my head. Just… just let me leave.” It was a futile plea but it popped out anyway.
“We shall remove Ourselves from your presence today, Daniel. Oh, We trust you feel no pain from your head injury? We were most alarmed to see you harm yourself like that. The fault is Ours. We regret pushing you to such desperate measures. It will not happen again.” Ba'al walked slowly back into the suite. “Enjoy the day with Our loved ones.”
Daniel watched him go, heard the click of the outer door closing, but stayed staring after him for a long stretch of time. One hand absently rubbed the back of his head, which bore no trace of his attempt to escape Ba'al’s invasion. In one sense it was a relief to know that his suspicions of Ba'al’s motives had been correct, but he still didn’t know what was at the heart of his plan. And he was still stuck here, with no visible means of escape. So far. He glanced down again at the picnickers. If he was free to roam the city then maybe he could slip away somehow. Heaven helps those who help themselves.
Slowly, he walked back into the room, looking for his pants. They were nowhere to be seen, and the chests that had held previous offerings of clothing were all empty. Eyebrows furrowing he kept looking. I’m getting out of here even if I have to go naked. If Ba'al thought the lack of clothing would be sufficient to keep him prisoner, then the Goa'uld was in for a surprise.
“Good morn, Daniel Jackson.”
Daniel started badly and swung around to see Elsh standing in the doorway to the bath. “Whoa, sneak up on a guy why don’t you?”
“My apologies. I came to help you in your daily ablutions whilst you were in conversation with our Lord.” Elsh walked silently into the room and placed a brightly coloured cloth on the bed.
“Yeah, well, I don’t need any help abluting. In fact I don’t even want to get in that bath today. I just want some clothes,” Daniel replied grumpily.
“The cloth you purchased in the market town yesterday has been prepared for you,” Elsh said, indicating the golden cloth on the bed. “The weather is most warm today. I hope you will find this comfortable.”
He strode over to the bed and grabbed the garment. He shook it out, expecting a pair of harem pants or whatever Helel called the flimsy things he wore. Instead, the material was just that – a piece of material, oblong in shape, intricately finished around the edges with lapis beading that matched the fabric’s design. He turned it over – nope, definitely no pants involved here. He glared at Elsh, so many scathing comments lining up in his mouth that they log-jammed and nothing came out.
Elsh took his silence as approval and took the thing from his hands. “This design is much favoured by the Court members on hot summer days.” He pulled away the throw rug then leaned close and wrapped the fabric around Daniel, circling it to settle low over his hips before securing it over one hipbone with some intricate silver catches. He picked up a fine chain supporting silver twists and lapis pieces carved into the shape of butterflies and hung it around Daniel’s waist. The dangling adornments tinkled and clanked over his hips.
“Oh. A sarong.” He could live with that. “Fine, I’m out of here.” He headed for the door, ignoring Elsh’s offer of breakfast.
Daniel yanked open the suite’s door, not at all surprised to find his ‘honour’ guard waiting attentively on the other side. He pushed through them and marched down the corridor, his anger with Ba'al and impatience to find a way off this planet making him walk much more quickly than a man wearing only a sarong should. Eventually he slowed and adjusted his stride. He was through the imposing foyer and out on the grass when Elsh panted up beside him, mutely offering a pair of thongs for his feet.
Daniel pursed his lips and took them, a grudging “Thanks” slipping out. He pulled them on, quietly accepting it would be harder to make a break for it in bare feet. The brightly-clothed members of Ba'al’s harem were coming toward him, all gaily chattering with excitement about their day out and each apparently wanting to show off a favourite feature of the city to Daniel.
He could barely manage a civil expression on his face. These people – Goa'uld, for heaven’s sake – were supremely unaware of what their Lord and love was doing to him, and he doubted they would even care if they knew. Unable to muster acknowledgements to their inane babble he started walking toward the citadel’s gates, Helel at his side, the others swarming along behind them.
He just needed to get away. Somehow there would be an opportunity to get free of them and he’d just run. If he couldn’t convince anyone to help him, he’d make his own way to the spaceport, sneak on board a cargo ship and get the hell as far from Ba'al as he could.
Well, it was a plan.
The picnic party turned right at the end of the causeway and headed along the shore, past busy fishermen and women sorting out the morning’s catch. The neatly tended parklands abutting the sand gave on to a meandering track that led in gently twisting turns up the side of the hill away from the town’s homes. Daniel walked silently, watching the Goa'uld scamper and dart around him, most of them excitedly teasing each other or collecting wildflowers, their skimpy clothing fluttering in the still air. Often one or the other would bound up to him, eager to show him a plant or bird or particularly favourite view from the many bends in the pathway. They treated him like a long-lost brother, excited to share their stories with him, to be friends with him and have him as one of their own. They just didn’t act like the Goa'uld he was used to. Maybe they don’t get out much. He gradually slowed his steps, letting them pull ahead until he was accompanied only by Prize – striding solemnly in the rear.
This guy was an even deeper enigma. While the others acted like a bunch of teenagers, despite them no doubt being hundreds if not thousands of years old, Prize bore himself like a servant. There was no trace of the usual arrogance or confidence he expected in a Goa'uld. He was deferent to everyone. Daniel glanced sideways at the man and found himself being studied in return. Caught out, Prize blushed and quickly dropped his gaze to the ground.
“Forgive, Adon. This one has no right to stare at you.”
Daniel felt his eyebrows rise. “Oh, uh, sorry, I was doing the same. Can I ask you a question?”
Prize straightened up and nodded, his face still expressionless. “My duty is to serve the honoured guest of my Lord.”
“Yeah, well, you can drop the ‘honoured guest’ shtick. Truth is I’m a prisoner here.” The young Goa'uld frowned slightly, not ready to believe that statement yet. Daniel changed the topic. “Ba'al told me he renamed you ‘Prize’. May I ask what your real name is?”
“My name, Adon, is that which my master gives me. He who I used to be is no more. Now, I bear the name of Prize. When my Lord Ba'al is satisfied with the conclusion of his treaty with my – rather, the Lady Morrigan, he may grace me with a new name that will bring him pleasure to address me by.”
Daniel sorted through that for a moment, then said, “So Morrigan gave you to Ba'al? To secure, what did he call it? A business deal?”
“Well, in truth my Lord Ba'al defeated Lady Morrigan’s troops during a ‘disagreement’. There were many casualties, particularly within the ranks of my troops. My failure to the Lady was just reason for her to take my life, but during the negotiations my Lord Ba'al saw the… value, the Lady placed on my existence and he insisted I be bound to him. He is most intuitive. The Lady Morrigan was highly grieved to be parted from me.” A small sigh escaped him and he whispered, “As was I from her.”
“Your name is your actual status – a prize of war?” Daniel asked. “You mentioned ‘your troops’. Were you a First Prime of Morrigan?”
“My rank was that of Vizier, Adon. It is the rank above First Prime, responsible for overseeing the entire military component of a System Lord’s forces: ground troops, space and air fleets, and the intelligence squads. The Lady Morrigan placed great faith in my abilities and rewarded me with her personal company on many occasions. My Lord Ba'al chose well in his desire to wound her with my loss.”
So Ba'al takes Morrigan’s most valued general and lover. Looks like the Goa'uld do place value on the lives of their own kind, to some degree at least. Daniel regarded the man walking beside him: the proud bearing clearly contained within a respectful, restrained demeanour. His status was obvious in his dress – bare feet, simple green linen pants, armbands joined by fine gold chains to a band on each wrist all bearing the horned symbol of Ba'al. In contrast, the rest of the court was lavishly decorated in every conceivable manner of jewellery they could display on their bodies. Barely an inch of skin was left free of bands, bangles, rings, precious stones and piercings.
“How does Ba'al treat you compared to life with Morrigan? You obviously miss her.”
Prize studied him, his expression carefully controlled. “My life belongs to my Lord now. It is not for me to pass judgement on his treatment of me or any other, Adon. We all have our place in his court. There is no desire for anything more or less than that which we have.”
“You don’t want to rise to a higher status, be favoured by him more than you are now?”
“Should my Lord elevate me to a status above, or below, that which I now hold, I will be honoured to receive it.” A faint smile flickered over his lips for a moment, then faded back into the usual stony façade. “Our ways are unfamiliar to you, Adon. You walk alone, master of your own destiny. I cannot imagine what that must be like. I’m unsure whether to envy your solitude or pity you for never knowing how our kind views life.”
A short, sharp bark of a laugh escaped Daniel. “No, don’t think for a moment I want to experience life from a Goa'uld’s point of view. I’m quite happy being me. Besides, Ba'al said he had no plans to use me as a host, if he can be believed.”
“My Lord would never be dishonest, Adon. That much I do know about him. Honesty is everything to him. He must intend grand things for you if he does not wish you to host one of us. You are truly honoured to be under his protection, Daniel.”
The use of his proper name jolted him a little, realising it was the first time in days that anyone other than Ba'al had not called him Adon. “Yes, lucky me.” A sour smile twisted his face. “Prize, you’re not buying into this whole ‘Adon’ thing are you? You’ve seen the way life is on many different planets. You’re not as sheltered as the rest of the Court. Why is everyone calling me Adon?”
“It is a title of great honour, Daniel,” Prize hedged.
“No, there’s more to it than that. Ba'al must have had other guests he held in high status and they don’t seem to have been given the name. I get the distinct impression people want me to be a new Eshmun.” He frowned as another thought popped into his head. “Or the resurrection of the old Eshmun.” Prize offered no comment to that speculation, so Daniel tried another tack. “Can you at least tell me about Eshmun? How long ago did he die? Why is he so important to the people of this city? I can understand them worshipping their ‘gods’ but to hold a human in the same standing is pretty unusual.”
Prize let out a thoughtful sigh. “As you know, Adon, Eshmun is much loved by our Lord Ba'al and the Lady Astarte, as well as by the people of this city and ourselves, the members of the Court. He was beautiful and very kind. When my Lord Ba'al brought his people to this planet, its fields were very poor, and gave little yield when planted with crops. The people despaired and feared death from hunger. It is said that Eshmun went up the mountain to the source of the watercourse that gives life to the whole city. There he bestowed his seed and his life’s blood into the water. His Gift gave life to the land and the rivers and the seas, and the people have never wanted for sustenance since.”
“It sounds like a very compelling myth,” Daniel nodded.
“But Eshmun’s tale is no myth, Daniel. All of my fellow courtiers have told me the story and most of them were present when it happened.”
“He was human,” Daniel protested. “He couldn’t possibly have had the power to bring fertility to soil and life to rivers.”
“None the less, it happened as the story says. Eshmun was so weakened by his Gift that he slept for the whole of the winter season. When he awoke, spring woke with him and the hills were covered with new crops. Fruit and vegetables grew in abundance. Beasts fattened and gambolled like their own young. Fish were so plentiful they threw themselves into the fishers’ nets. Such bounty had never been seen and the Lords celebrated with the people. Eshmun lived with our Lord and Lady. Every day and night was a joyous event for them, made possible by Eshmun’s Gift. When the seasons waned and the harvests were over, Eshmun renewed his Gift. Then, tired, he slept through the winter only to rise once more with the spring. When the time came for his final Gift, our Lady Astarte’s belief that he would one day rise again was taken up by all the people of Tsydon.” Prize smiled as if he had seen the Gift himself. “Who can say how the Gift happened, Daniel? The fact that it did and is a miraculous thing should be enough for us, do you not think so?”
“Well, in my experience, miracles usually have a reasonable explanation behind them,” Daniel said grudgingly. Astarte’s obsession had turned into a myth believed by the entire civilization here. There had to be much more to this story, but he had a feeling only one person knew the truth and that was the one person he was trying to get away from. He was just as much a prisoner as Prize, slotted into a role from which there was no prospect of escape. Prize, however, was completely accepting of his lot in life. There was not going to be any help from him in leaving this place. Daniel fell into a brooding silence, strolling after the company of picnickers and soaking in the increasing heat of the sun.
It was a hot day. Very hot. He could feel the warmth sinking into the bare skin of his back and shoulders. And the temperature did nothing to improve his mood. Each twist and turn of the path offered views of the sea, sparkling out to the cloudless horizon and dotted with more than a dozen glorious sailing ships either entering the harbour or gliding away into the distance. He finally stopped under the shady bower of one of the scenic lookouts next to another small Eshmun shrine and gazed at the ships in thought. Naturally, the whole company stopped with him. He tuned out their chatter and looked at Anath, standing nearest and staring at the view with an appreciative smile.
“Anath, those ships – where are they going?”
She turned her head and smiled at him. “They journey to our sister towns up and down the coast, Adon. They carry the bounty of our fields and goods for trade.” She scooped a pottery dipper into a stone basin at the foot of the shrine and offered him a drink of the cold stream water within.
“Thank you. These towns, there’s a few of them? Are they large in population?”
“Some are half the size of Tsydon, some are quite smaller.”
He mustered a smile, trying to keep her interested. “They must be a long way away if you transport goods by sea. I would have thought it’d be easier to use an Al’kesh cargo ship… something like that?”
“Why no, Adon. All vessels are prohibited from flying anywhere over the planet, apart from the spaceport, of course. Our Lord Ba'al decrees that our people should live in peace and not be bothered by noisy ships passing over their heads. And they frighten the livestock. It is much nicer to see our magnificent sailing ships plying their trade along the coast.”
“Oh. Right. Good idea.” He nodded and resumed the walk along the path. Damn, that rules out heading for another town. Spaceport it is then – wherever that may be.
The party continued on: weaving along the path then heading inland through groves of orange trees and fields of ripened crops crowned with glorious flowers. They passed several more shrines tucked away in secluded niches or set out under enormous spreading trees. Once, glancing back as they moved into an olive grove, Daniel saw a woman standing at the tree-shrine dedicated to Eshmun they had recently passed. He stared hard, certain that it was Astarte: standing motionless, her red dress fluttering about her, staring directly at him. Unnerved he looked away and followed Helel into the trees.
The servants who had followed their procession like a warlord’s baggage train had set up in the park that spread out halfway up the hill, erecting shelters of fluttering cloth under which the Consorts and the Concubines arrayed themselves in splendorous elegance, shaded from the sun and served with tantalising picnic fare and endless glasses of effervescent wines. The park was every bit as beautiful as Ba'al had promised. Garden beds planted with solid banks of the same coloured foliage sat like squares on a patchwork quilt – blues, greys and silvers bordered ranks of trees which themselves were an explosion of red, yellow and lavender flowers. Beyond, the park blended into a leafy forest that stretched up to the crown of the hill where a glint of sunlight on marble indicated the three temples.
Daniel sat apart from the others, some way up the hill, refusing food and company. He kicked off the thongs that were not made for walking long distances, and leaned back on his elbows, eyes fixed on the distant line where sea melded with sky. Eyes closed, head tilted back and soaking up the sun’s heat, he deluded himself for just a moment that he was somewhere else, another planet where heat was the norm and there was the safety of love and family close by.
Sha’re…. The image of her holding her baby leapt to his mind, unbidden but startlingly clear. Possessed by Amonet but still his beautiful wife, the flamboyant clothes failing to hide the sweet uncomplicated woman he loved. The rest of the scene played out once again, Amonet giving the boy to her servant, instructing her to go to Kheb, stay hidden in case the tales of a powerful alien were true-.
Wait a minute. How the hell could he know that? He’d never seen Amonet with the baby. Shifu had already been sent through the Stargate by the time SG-1 arrived, leading the rescue team in search of the kidnapped Abydonians. And yet, the vision had been as lucid as any other that had been dredged up by Ba'al’s infernal machine. More so, even. Daniel could feel the memory of the hot wind scouring the sands of the planet, the astringent scent of the air – so different to other deserts he’d been in. But the servant and baby had left the planet before he’d arrived so how the hell could he have such a memory in his head?
He felt a creep of unease sneak over him. He sat up, eyes still closed, and forced himself to concentrate. He replayed the scene again and again. It was always the same – the servant woman holding baby Shifu, staring into his eyes, accepting instructions and turning to face the Stargate. The hand pressing the symbols on the DHD that would send her to Kheb… the hand that was not his. The hand that was wreathed in a twist of gold, fingers capped, crowned with a glimmering jewel…. Not my hand. Her hand. Amonet’s. It’s not my memory. Hers….
His eyes opened slowly and he stared unseeing at the grass in front of him. Amonet’s memories. I’ve got Amonet’s memories in my head? His stomach churned but there was nothing in it to bring up. After a few moments of hard swallowing he got himself under control. Revolted, he concentrated on how this could have happened. Sha’re’s urgent last thoughts to him as Amonet slowly fried his brain had come to him via the ribbon device. Something more appeared to have been dragged through at the same time. Was it just memories he’d received or was there more? Was this what Ba'al was really looking for? If it wasn’t the whereabouts of Shifu Ba'al was after, then what could Amonet have concealed that Ba'al was this desperate to discover? Daniel considered delving deeper in search of any other memories from Amonet, but his mind skittered away from the task. This was not something he wanted to do here and now – alone on a hillside amid the enemy.
I have to get out of here. If Ba'al is after something that Amonet was hiding, then I can’t let him get it. Or can I? If it’s just the Goa'uld’s secrets he wants maybe I should let him have them. I could let him see whatever is there… and then what? He’ll let you go? Yeah, right. What if he did, though? You go home like a good boy, tell the general what happened and he’ll have to tell his superiors. I’ll be in a concrete room in Area 51 so fast my feet won’t touch the ground. They’ll never trust me again.
I’m so screwed.
A shout of laughter brought him out of his reverie. A game of tag had developed further down the hill. Ba'al’s courtesans were chasing each other and collapsing in clouds of silks on the ground, their shrieks sounding more like children at play than adult symbiotes who could easily be thousands of years old. As he watched, Nikkal snatched the wreath of flowers adorning the head of Yarikh and raced away, her fellow Consort hard on her heels. He caught her and dragged her squealing to the ground. Others joined in the tussle, even the servants stopped their work to laugh and point at the melee developing on the grass. And no-one was looking Daniel’s way.
He picked up his thongs, rose and walked slowly, calmly toward the border of trees nearby. His heart was thudding in his chest but he kept his pace until the leafy branches enclosed him. He twisted around to see if anyone had noted his absence but they were all concentrating on the mass-wrestling match that now included Ba’al’s entire harem.
Daniel turned and fled into the forest.
He headed upward, logic telling him the spaceport had to be beyond the hill that backed the township. He’d have to circle around the temple precinct at the top and travel as high up as he could to get the best vantage point for scoping out the landscape beyond. Hopefully, the spaceport would be within sight, otherwise he was going to need to transport and that would present all sorts of problems. He ran lightly, trying to stay on grass and avoid the scattered twigs and fallen branches that threatened his bare feet. The flimsy shoes would be useless, but he kept hold of them – no telling what kind of terrain he’d be faced with on the far side.
After a five minute flat-out run through the trees, he halted, intently listening for sounds of pursuit over the labouring of his lungs. Nothing. So far, so good. He bent, grabbed the back hem of his sarong, brought it up between his legs and tucked it into the waistband, effectively turning the garment into a pair of shorts. Much better for running. He yanked off the dangling decorations and dropped them under a pile of fallen leaves. Set, he headed off once more, keeping the sun over his right shoulder and moving at a steady, ground-eating jog.
Keeping to the trees, Daniel ran for more than twenty minutes before he found himself at the forest’s edge and faced with open fields, sun-ripened crops bending in the breeze. In the distance, a group of farm workers moved slowly along the furrows, harvesting the grain. The sun flashed off their long scythes as they swung in rhythmic sweeps. The cut stalks were bundled and thrown into a hopper that floated along behind them on some kind of anti-gravity field. Shaking his head over the incongruous sight, he melted back into the foliage and continued on.
He picked a course that angled away from the fields but kept taking him up. He ran lightly, leaping over fallen branches and animal holes, searching for a way around the hill that would offer continued cover from prying eyes. Yet each time he tried to head east he found himself at the edge of cultivations – the grain crops giving way to ranks of grape vines or bushes bent low under the weight of their bright yellow fruits. He ground his teeth in frustration. Further up there were rows of olive or citrus trees, which would at least offer some kind of cover for a half-naked man wearing a bright orange sarong. Daniel headed through the forest, fixing the orchard in the map he was building in his memory. Only a hundred yards on he came across a tumble of boulders, large and small, some type of quartz-filled rock that lay scattered between the trees. Behind them rose enormous rocks, some the size of his car or house. Tree trunks grew tenaciously between them, creating an effective barrier that forced him to turn west in search of a path.
His pace slowed considerably as he weaved between tree and boulder. Faced with a step four feet in height he put a hand on the rock to pull himself up, only to yank it away with a sharp hiss of pain as the exposed quartz cut into his skin. His palm stung and bled from a dozen tiny wounds. Daniel peered closer. The quartz gleamed like glass shards and it was everywhere, in each boulder, big or small. He steadied himself and slid his feet into the thongs.
“Great. Just perfect.”
He pushed on, taking care not to step on or touch the boulders if he could help it. But keeping away from them was also bringing him further and further west – toward the temples and the chance of discovery.
Another ten or so minutes of wary scrambling brought him to a sizeable river. Its cold sparkling water churned rapidly down over a bed of polished stones and larger, scattered boulders. Some of the boulders lay in groups and even supported clumps of grass and a small plant with masses of large red anemones that trailed down to float on the surface. The river was a least twenty feet wide and quite deep in places but on the other side the terrain was gentler, the rocks thinning out and replaced with grass and flower-covered soil. Daniel gazed up. The east side of the river was an ever-thickening barrier of trees and vicious rocks. No choice. He’d have to cross the river and hope to circle around the west side of the hill. If he went high enough maybe he’d be able to stay well above the temple precinct. He edged carefully out of the trees. There was nobody in sight or ear-shot. A pair of large white birds settled in a tree above him, squawking boisterously and making him jump. He glared up at them, then took one final glance up and down the river. Assured he was alone, Daniel waded into the swiftly flowing water.
The deep-earth chill of it made him wince. His toes curled defensively as they quickly lost feeling at each cautious step. He followed a line of large rocks that stretched almost the whole way across, creating mini-waterfalls that flowed out from under the flowering stems. The water-smoothed stones twisted and gave under his feet, each step threatening to dump him on his ass. Progress was painstaking and taking way too long. He felt exposed and vulnerable; his back itched with imagined eyes peering at him.
Two-thirds of the way across he placed his left foot on a large, semi-flat stone, and took a step only to jolt sideways as the stone gave under him. Arms windmilling wildly, his foot slid down into a silt-covered hole, ending up jammed at a painful angle between two rough, hidden rocks. He got his other foot down safely and caught his breath, vaguely registering a feeling of pain from his numbed foot.
The water around his legs gradually turned red. Bemused, Daniel watched the stain spread downstream.
“That’s not good.”
He peered down through the water and saw the offending rock was covered in glittering, knife-like shards of quartz. He dropped his backside down onto the smooth boulder behind him, squashing the covering of flowers. Gingerly, he twisted his leg and pulled his foot free, feeling the quartz scratch more cuts into his flesh in the process. As soon as the pressure on his foot was gone a dark red cloud flooded into the water, swirling around his legs before drifting downstream.
“Oh, crap.” Spears of agony shot up from his foot. He grabbed his ankle, gritted his teeth and took a close look at the damage.
Three long cuts along the instep and on the sole of his foot were bleeding profusely. The flimsy thong was completely shredded. He pulled it off and tossed it away. Daniel clamped his hand over the wounds, let out one of Skarra’s more choice swear words and tried to compose himself. He pulled the sarong free from the waistband and ripped a strip off the hem, quickly binding his foot as tightly as he could. Instantly, the cloth was stained with blood. It probably wasn’t life-threatening – he dimly recalled Janet saying foot injuries could bleed as freely as head wounds – but his chances of sprinting over the hill to freedom just narrowed considerably.
He let his foot fall back into the water, hoping the cold would slow the blood flow. His right foot was completely numb now. He balanced that up on a smoother rock and rubbed the circulation back into it. The flow of the river continued to stain with his blood. A long, thin trail of red water bled away from him, bubbling over rocks until it dipped out of sight around a bend. His injured foot began to throb, pounding up through his leg in time to the harsh beats of his heart. Dragging in deep breaths, he hauled his leg out of the water and clamped his hands over the wounds, pressing tightly and concentrating fiercely on staying upright.
C’mon, gotta get moving. They must have noticed I’m missing by now.
Urgency gnawed at him. Daniel ripped another makeshift bandage from the sarong and bound that over the first. Dismayed, he watched the blood seep quickly into the new layer. He’d never get far running or even hobbling on it in this condition. He’d have to find somewhere to hide until the bleeding stopped. He didn’t even want to contemplate the possibility of infection.
Cautiously lowering his leg, he got himself balanced and tried to stand. A hot spear of agony shot up from his foot as soon as he put his weight on it. One hand steadying himself on the flower-covered boulder, he found he could just tolerate a little pressure on the ball of his foot. A grimace creased his face. Ten feet of rushing, knee-deep water hiding who knew how many more treacherous rocks lay between this exposed position and the riverbank. No choice. He took a hobbling step, nearly slipped again, and ended up with his butt back on the flowered boulder. The rocks under the water were worn smooth and covered with slimy algae. Maybe he should just crawl on hands and knees over the flower-strewn boulders. Getting wetter was not a problem. He pushed his glasses firmly down over his nose and tried to map out a secure course.
A sound broke his concentration. A cry? Someone yelling? Dammit, not yet. He looked up anxiously. There – coming into view around the bend in the river – a man, two men, trotting along the bank, gesturing at the water and the telltale stain of blood that was leading them straight to Daniel.
He sat back on the boulder, trying to look casual and not at all like he was escaping from a nest of Goa'uld. The two saw him and halted in their tracks, staring openly at him and then exchanging confused glances between them. They looked to be priests from the temples – their red robes bore the Caduceus symbol of Eshmun with Ba'al’s curved symbol and Astarte’s horned sun on either side.
C’mon, move along. Nothing to see here, guys.
They edged closer, their heads swivelling to take in the thinning stream of blood in the water and Daniel perched amid a carpet of red anemones, his sarong floating out around him in the current. He tried to ignore them and slid back down to his one good foot for another attempt at getting to dry ground, but his first step foundered and his injured sole slipped and jarred on the treacherous rocks. Another cloud of blood welled up, swirling around his legs before floating off downstream. Even diluted as it was by the river, he knew he was losing a lot of blood. The sight of it brought a sharp cry from the two priests. He looked up and saw they were much closer now and as he watched, they fell to their knees, clutching each other for support.
“Shapash, can it be true?” cried one to his companion. “Our god returns to us! He rises from the Bodashtart as the legends promised.”
The second priest, bald and red-clad like the other, appeared a little less hysterical and peered intently at Daniel. “We witnessed his resurrection from the hand of our Lord Ba'al, Shalem. The people have already embraced him as the Adon and now we see with our own humble eyes – he rises from the Bodashtart amid the stain of rebirth.” An expression of near ecstasy filled the man’s face. “You, the Priest of the Lord’s Dusk and I, the Priest of the Lord’s Sun, we are truly blessed to be chosen witnesses of this holy event!”
Daniel stared at them, his face creasing in confusion. Whatever these guys were on about, he wasn’t going to stay and find out. He grabbed a hold of the trailing flower vines for support and pushed through the water, trying to ignore the stabbing fire of pain from his foot. He’d slipped and staggered at least four more feet before he was halted by the sounds of a great many people calling and moving through the trees he’d recently fled through. A desperate glance over his shoulder confirmed the worst – they’d found him.
Brightly clad bodies flitted between tree trunks, calls of “Adon!” and “Daniel!” mingled with the squawks of disturbed parrots and the chatter of the picnic party – wending towards him. He watched the stain floating away from him and for one hopeless moment considered throwing himself after it. He closed his eyes, defeat accepted, energy seeping out of him as surely as his blood was tinting the water beneath him.
Loud splashing brought his eyes open. Prize, Helel and Melqart had plunged into the river, their faces etched with concern. The rest of the Court gathered on the bank like a clutch of anxious mother hens.
“Daniel, we feared we had lost you,” Helel called, picking his way over the sharp rocks with elegant agility. “Are you injured? There is much blood-.”
“I cut my foot, that’s all.”
They gathered around him, steadying him, lifting his leg to exclaim in horror at his injury. Over their heads, Daniel watched with sinking resignation as more people rounded the bend of the river on the priests’ side, moving quickly and obviously alerted by the trail of blood in the water. May as well have waved a flag.
Great. Astarte was among them. She alone was not hurrying. Instead, she moved as if she were in a dream: her bare feet almost floating over the grass, red dress drifting around her body, a dreamy smile on her face. The two priests threw themselves at her feet, talking over each other in their eagerness to proclaim their discovery. She caressed their bald heads and moved past them, her eyes fixed like a viper’s on Daniel’s. The babble of the gathering crowd slowly subsided into an expectant hush.
Propped up by Prize and Helel, Daniel found he couldn’t tear his gaze from the goddess. She strolled forward, straight into the river and up to Daniel. She lifted a hand to his face, stroked it gently, reverently.
“Beloved, you have returned to me. I, who gave you life. I, who gave you death. The holy waters took you away. Now they bring you back to me. My love, my life, mahhib. My Eshmun.”
Beneath them, the chill water of the Bodashtart mingled the blood of a human with the red silks of a goddess, and the whole city seemed to sigh with joy.
They insisted on carrying him. Ignoring his protests, Prize and Helel linked their arms under his hips and carried Daniel at the head of an ever-increasing procession, through the trees along the riverbank into the tended gardens surrounding the temples. Astarte led the way: hips swinging, hair bouncing, she was skipping like a girl.
The cuts on his foot were deeper than he’d first realised. The young Goa'uld had hauled him out of the water and unwrapped the bandages, revealing the three wounds had sliced through tissue and muscle right down to the bones. His stomach had turned queasy at the sight. Astarte, on the other hand, had taken an intense interest and dipped her hands into the blood still flowing freely. Staring at him, unblinking, she then curled her tongue around her fingers and elegantly licked his blood from them. Speechless, Daniel held her gaze until she gave him a dimpled smile and ordered his foot bound.
Now, with Helel’s yellow silk shirt serving as another bandage, he was carried in triumph through curious worshippers stirred up by the two priests darting among them and loudly proclaiming the return of their lost god, Eshmun.
“It is true,” one woman’s awed whisper carried to him. “Eshmun has returned as the Adon. My cousin Adarel serves in our Lord’s home. She saw Him bring the Adon to life. He was dead before their eyes and our Lord gave him life. Our blessings will be ten-fold now He walks among us once more.”
More than a little light-headed from blood loss, Daniel blinked muzzily at her as he passed. She was just a normal woman, middle-aged, nicely dressed in pants and embroidered shirt, face filled with adoration – for him? They want me to be their god. Ba'al had promised he wouldn’t turn him into a host, but it seemed he’d achieved godhood without the snake.
He watched Astarte lead the way, not into her own temple but along the path leading up to Eshmun’s. She’s obviously besotted with Eshmun. If she thinks I’m him returned… use it. Use her. She’s a Goa'uld, she has power of her own; maybe she can protect me from Ba'al. Convince her to let me stay here – it’d be easier to escape the temple than the citadel.
Astarte was practically dancing as she led the way across the grass and plunged past the vine-covered pillars and into the Temple of Eshmun. Worshippers backed away in respectful silence as Daniel was carried up the steps. Immediately, the lush scents of earth and life inside the temple flooded into him, reviving his spirits and energy. Astarte stood some distance down one of the winding paths, then turned and led the way into a room that Daniel hadn’t seen on his first visit here. It was small, cosy, decorated with fine sheer curtains, deep-cushioned chairs and a large round bed, thick with quilts and soft blankets. Unlike the gardens of the temple, this was a room to be lived in. Helel and Prize deposited him carefully on the bed.
“Your goddess thanks you, young ones. Leave now.”
“Iylit.” The two bowed deeply before Astarte, then gave Daniel the same courtesy before backing out of the room. The door swung shut, leaving him alone with the Goa'uld. She stared at him for long moments until weariness took hold and he dropped back to lie on the bed, eyes fluttering half-closed.
“It is you.”
Not a question this time. Daniel paused, considering his response carefully. Dangerous to masquerade as someone else; even more so to pretend false godhood. Teal'c would have a fit. Jack… oy. Still, he knew what awaited his return to Ba'al’s clutches – the invasion of his memories that was pure rape. There was no other word for it. The agony he’d felt this morning when he thought he’d lost Sha’re…. I can’t face that again. And I can’t let him take any more of Amonet’s memories either. If he could play them off against each other, beg Astarte’s protection…. It was all he could do at the moment. He rolled his head to face her, fixed her stare with his and committed to a path to which he had no idea where it would lead him.
“Yes.”
She was by his side in a flutter of red gossamer. Soft hands bedecked with rings on each finger feathered over his face, tracing the outlines of his jaw, temple, and cheeks; renewing an association with her long lost lover who was now somehow different.
“I knew, mahhib, I knew when the bald men spoke of the one who rose from my Lord’s gift of life – I knew it was you. Why did you not come to me then? I have waited, so long. I said I would and I did. I waited every dawn, every sunset. Every turn of the seasons, I waited for you.” Astarte leaned close, her cheek brushing his, her breath ghosting past his ear. Her lips found his brow with soft kisses. She covered his eyelids with a kiss each, continuing on to nuzzle every inch of skin while her hands ruffled his hair and caressed his neck and shoulders. “My love, my lettuce, my honeyman…”
Daniel tried to relax into her touch, tried to hide the instinct to recoil from such intimacies with a Goa'uld. He frowned at the way she referred to herself as ‘I’, rejecting the royal ‘We’ that Ba'al used constantly. He blinked hard, struggled to grab onto some kind of coherent thought. “I… I didn’t remember. It’s been so long….”
“No matter, irshyt, I forgive you. Your sins of the past will no longer stand between us. We will lie together for all time, my sha’r, my bar’ky.” She slid onto the bed beside him, stretching her body along his, her hands fondling his face and hair with needy, unceasing strokes.
Oh, maybe not such a good idea. Anxious to distract her, he let out a yelp when her foot knocked against his inured one.
“Adon, you cry out! What pains you, mahhib?”
He rolled to one side, trying to slip out of her arms but she came with him as he sat up. “My foot – I cut it. You know, the great bleeding gash down there? Don’t suppose you have one of those healing things on you?”
Astarte glanced down his body and recoiled as if she’d not previously seen the bloody bandage around his foot. “My lettuce! You cannot bleed – now is not the time!” She leapt off the bed and flung herself through the door, returning seconds later brandishing a healing device.
Daniel slumped back on the bed, weariness swamping him. “Finally.” Warm tingles swept around his foot as she directed the healing beam over his injuries. He could almost picture the blood vessels, muscles and skin knitting back together, the deep gashes vanishing as if they had never been. As the pain faded, so did his grip on consciousness and he fell gently into sleep.
He couldn’t have slept for long and when he did wake it was to find his head being cradled against Astarte’s breast. She was rocking him gently and crooning soft nonsensical words. He sighed and tried to roll out of her arms but she clung to him tenaciously. Wetness splashed onto his forehead and he realised she was crying.
“Astarte?”
“Sweetling. Honeyed One. Our days together have come again. The temple will ring with our love. The little ones in the city will sing with our happiness. Such wonderful hours will be once more.”
“Well, as nice as that sounds, I’m afraid Ba'al might have something to say about it.”
“Our Lord will share our joy, mahhib.”
“No, I don’t think he will. He won’t let me stay here, Astarte.” Daniel peered up at her. She was staring off into a future he couldn’t and probably didn’t want to see. “You don’t know what he’s been doing to me. Every night, he drugs me, invades my mind, steals my memories.” He took a gamble that he was actually getting through to her and reached up to stroke her cheek.
Immediately she gazed down at him, her arms wrapping him in a grip that was fuelled by Goa'uld strength and uncounted years of longing.
“You are here with me now, my Eshmun. You are safe.”
Safe even from Ba'al? He had to drive the point home. “Help me. Protect me from him. Let me stay here with you.”
“Yes.”
Uncertain relief flooded him. He relaxed into her embrace. Then she spoke again.
“Until the darkness takes you away.”
Å
She couldn’t help herself. So ecstatic was she to have her lost love returned, Astarte stayed with Daniel on the bed for only a few minutes more. She wouldn’t elaborate on what the darkness was that would take him away, but he knew with dread certainty that his gamble was not going to pay off the way he’d hoped. She kissed him soundly and bounced off the bed. Running to the doors, she flung them open and proclaimed to the hundreds of people who had silently gathered outside; “Eshmun, God of Our Land, Bringer of the Gift, has returned to us! Give thanks, all, and spread the news to the citizens of His Land.”
A great cry of delight rose up from the people in the temple. Many went running to spread the news. Astarte’s priestesses came forward bearing glass bottles with unguents and oils, dishes of aromatic food, cloths to wash their new-found god with and silks to dress him in.
“Oh, boy.” Daniel crawled off the bed as they advanced on him but he couldn’t fend them all off. They quickly stripped away the torn sarong and washed him where he stood; scented bubbles slid down his skin, cleansing the dirt and blood stains, then the women rubbed him dry. Well done, Daniel. You’re a god now, better get used to this.
They dressed him in flowing green satin, a tight wrap around his hips that fell away to reveal his legs. His chest was once again bare and he slapped their hands away when they came at him with what looked horrifyingly like nipple rings. He strode over to Astarte. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, then grabbed his hand and tugged him out into the temple. Everyone bowed down before him, his protestations ignored. As Astarte led him along the main winding aisle, people reached out to touch his feet or legs or even just to let his garment brush their fingers. Some sobbed quietly and Daniel began to have grave misgivings about what he’d gotten himself in to.
Then they were at the main entrance which was crowded with priestesses, priests from Ba'al’s temple and what had to be priests – shaven headed and green clad – from Eshmun’s temple. These last in particular were weeping with joy. They parted silently, giving way before their risen god. And at the back of the crowd, standing in a shaft of brilliant sunlight was Ba'al. Astarte let out a cry and ran to him, flung her arms around his neck, laughing and sobbing with happiness.
“Our love has returned to us! I knew he would return and he has, he’s come home to us. We are complete again!”
Ba'al hugged her gently, looking over her curls at Daniel with an odd mix of curiosity and sadness. Astarte dragged him back to Daniel, proudly showing off her new acquisition.
“You’ve had a busy day, Adon,” Ba'al said.
Daniel shrugged. Ba'al knew exactly what he’d hoped to achieve by his little deception. He caught Astarte’s eye and she leaned into him, caressing his skin.
“He is mine now. All shall be as it was before, won’t it? We shall spend our days in bliss, my lettuce.” Her hands slid around his hips and blatantly squeezed his groin.
“Whoa! Hey, uh….” His brain helpfully supplied the little fact that lettuce was considered an aphrodisiac in Phoenicia, while his tongue tried to untangle itself. “Remember – love – you promised I’d stay with you always. You promised to protect me.”
“For ever more will you lay by my heart, my irshyt.” Her amorous assertions did nothing to help his confidence, particularly as Ba'al sidled closer.
“Of course, my dear. As before. Darkness falls however.”
“And then the light rises,” she murmured into Daniel’s shoulder. She took his hand in hers, kissing his fingertips one by one. She sucked on his index finger in a completely pornographic way then offered his hand to Ba'al.
Ba'al took Daniel’s hand, leaned close, and as Astarte nuzzled and kissed his chest, Ba'al wrapped a hand around his neck and kissed him hard on the lips. Astarte scraped her teeth over his nipples and Daniel shuddered with unwanted sensations. Ba'al pulled him close, his arms firm around his shoulders. Daniel stared past him, scattered brain cells only managing to take in the darkening sky outside. Huge thunderheads boiled up over the sea, blotting out the horizon, streaks of lightning illuminating the last few fishing vessels hurrying into port.
Astarte stepped back, her whole being alight with joy and desire. She kissed his fingers one final time then dropped his hand. Ba'al’s grip on him was unbreakable: Goa'uld strength subtly applied, keeping him pressed close to his captor. Entreaties and protests on his lips, Daniel couldn’t utter a word before something sprang up around the two of them, wrapping them in a dizzying spiral. There was a feeling like gravity failing and then suddenly he was on a stone balcony, the threatening sky much closer, surf pounding below on the foundations of the citadel.
He was back in the palace, his gamble for freedom an utter failure, and now he had the amorous Astarte to deal with as well as Ba'al’s machinations.
Ba'al released him and he staggered away, exhaustion and blood loss taking their toll. He leaned on the parapet, sucking in deep lungfuls of salty air. Lightning speared through the inky sky in a soundless blaze that sent the hairs on his arms prickling. The merciless ocean continued to throw itself against the stone below and for a moment he considered doing the same, but even death was not an escape from the Goa'uld and the sarcophagus he was sure lurked somewhere in the palace. Just the thought of that thing sent shivers over his bare skin.
Daniel hugged his arms around his chest and tried not to think of what the night would bring.
Å
Å
* Phoenician words
· alep – ox
· tahvt mekir – under trader
· dool hikmat – without wisdom
· nasak ssohr yawm Ba'al mt – cast back the time of Ba'al to death
· Mahhib – lover
· Irshyt – desire
· Sha’r – flesh
· Bar’ky - gift
The Birth of Adonis, by Victor Haddad
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