Dracula slept.
It was the old dream again, the dream that had come a thousand times over the years. It was the dream of sand and sun and blood.
He dreamed of Egypt.
Back then, he had been a different man with a different name. His name had been Akhon, and he was a slave, toiling under the whip of an overseer in the pursuit of other men's dreams. Pharaoh Khufu had decreed that a pyramid would be built for his son to protect him on his journey to the afterlife. The first, and larger of the pyramids, was already complete. Its surface was covered in limestone to make it sparkle in the sun, and on its peak sat a golden capstone that shone like a star fallen to Earth.
Akhon cared little for these things. He had been told that Khufu and his family were mediators between man and God and that Akhon would continue to serve the Pharaoh in the afterlife. He could not understand why this should give him pleasure. He did not wish to serve the Pharaoh in this life, let alone eternally.
All he knew was that the days were long, and the scalding sun beat as steadily on his back as did the whip of the overseer. The man who drove Akhon and the other slaves, day after day, was named Djal. He forced them, day in and day out, to heave the blocks from the waiting boats, across the blistering hot sands, and to the base of the growing pyramid. There, they would use pulleys to drag them, foot by backbreaking foot, up the smooth, sandy ramp until the blocks were in place.
During this last stage, this last gruelling grind to slide the blocks up the sandy incline, Djal would sometimes sit in the shade of his tent, eyes watching the men like an eagle. If he grew unhappy with their work, he would beat them.
'There are others who will do the work if you do not,' he would yell.
Sometimes, on days when a block refused to move or everything went wrong, he would resort to more extreme measures. One of these involved picking a man at random to use as an example for the others. Djal would cast his eye across the lines of men pulling the stones, and he would pick out a slave to have him dragged away, screaming, by the guards.
At these times, the work would halt, and everyone would stop to watch as terrible tortures would be enacted on the slave until he died. Then his body would be left as a reminder; life was hard as a slave, but life could be worse for slaves who displeased Djal.
One day, Akhon decided he had endured enough. He had been watching the guards at night and realised they often slept when they should have been watching the men. Akhon absconded from the tent using only the light of the stars to guide him to the Nile. He stole a skiff—a small boat made of papyrus—and used it to silently float down the river. In the middle of the night, he fell asleep, but when he awoke, he found the skiff was taking on water. There was a hole in it that he had not spotted in the night.
Akhon quickly made for the shore. Here, he found the fertile plains where crops were being grown. He'd heard of these places, although never seen them himself. He hoped to blend in with the farmworkers. This could be a perfect life for him after the cruelty of being a pyramid builder. He met a man named Pawura, and told him his story, begging him for help. Pawura agreed that Akhon could stay and work in the fields with him and his family. Akhon was pleased. Not only was he able to work in safety, but Pawura had a pretty daughter named Mara, who had already smiled at him. To Akhon, it was as if he had already reached the afterlife.
Mara's smile was something special. It was a shy expression, almost that of a child, but she had eyes that bore into his mind. He could not forget that smile. He would not forget it.
That night, Mara came to him and did more than smile. She slipped into bed with him, and with her, he became a man. After she had gone, he lay in his bed and made plans for how things would be for him and Mara. He loved her. He knew that as surely as night followed day. And theirs would be a love that would last forever.
Akhon knew he was smiling in the dark like a crazy person, but he couldn't help himself. How quickly things had changed! He had gone from slavery and pain to safety and pleasure!
It was late the next day when the guards arrived. It seemed that Pawura had discovered their secret lovemaking and called the guards to collect the reward money. Mara was crying Akhon's name when, struggling and shrieking, he was dragged from the fertile fields and thrown into a cage to be taken away.
'I love you!' he screamed.
Akhon could not hear her reply, but he could hear the guards laughing at him. They understood what had happened, and they thought it funny that he should experience such pleasure before being returned to such a terrible fate.
Slowly, Akhon was transported back across the land to where he had laboured in the dark shadow of the pyramids. Djal had been told to expect him. The overseer had decided on a special punishment to set an example for the others. While most slaves died quickly under torture, Djal had decided to cast Akhon into the Pit of Duat. It was a jagged crack in the Earth from which many entered, but none escaped. A creature lived in the pit, although no one had ever lived to speak of it.
All that anyone knew was what they heard; the screams of those cast into the abyss sometimes rang out for days. After that, there was only a terrible silence. All agreed that the silence was somehow worse than the screams.
Many slaves had been assembled to watch Akhon's punishment. They stood in long rows a safe distance from the crack in the Earth as Akhon was dragged to the pit's edge.
'You have impressed me,' Djal said to Akhon. 'You made it half the distance of Perneb. He was another escaped slave, and he surprised me very much indeed.'
Akhon considered begging for his life, but he knew it was a wasted exercise. He struggled to come up with a course of action that would give him some chance of survival.
'Then give me a chance to defeat the creature in the pit,' he shouted so that all the other slaves could hear. 'At least give me that.'
Djal considered. 'All right,' he said. 'We gave Perneb a spear before he was cast into the pit, and he lasted longer than anyone else.' Djal grabbed a spear from one of his men. 'You made it half as far, so I will give you half a spear.'
The pointed end of the blade was not given to Akhon. He was given the broken timber shaft.
'I will not wish you good fortune,' Djal said. 'It would not help you, anyway.'
Two wrestled Akhon to the edge, and he was pushed in. The fall to the bottom was around twenty feet, and Akhon bounced off a ledge on the way down. He didn't break anything, but he did hit his head.
The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was Djal's voice.
'Do not sleep long,' he called. 'It feeds at night.'
When Akhon awoke, he found himself in darkness, his head aching and blood on his face. Sand was beneath him. A rocky wall lay at his back.
Where am I?
Then he knew. He looked up to see that the day had passed. The night was dark, and through the crack in the Earth above, he saw the sharp glittering of stars.
What did Djal say?
It feeds at night.
Desperately searching the ground around him, he finally found the spear—or the broken spear—he had been so generously given. It took almost an hour, and by then, Akhon was sure he could hear something else in the darkness.
A faint wind blew across the sands above, sending tiny particles into the Pit of Duat. Akhon considered climbing up the side, but he knew it would be a wasted effort. The sides were steep. Better, fitter men than him had tried, and in daylight no less. It was hopeless, even attempting it at night.
Besides, he was sure it was already too late. In the faint glow of starlight that reached into the hole, Akhon saw a darker section at the back of the pit. A cave of some kind reached into the sandy desert. The sounds he could hear came from that darkness. Something was gently padding about on the sandy ground.
What is it?
Akhon wondered if he should remain motionless. The creature might not see him in the dark, although he thought this unlikely. Whatever dwelt here made darkness its home. It could probably see far more clearly than he could.
He peered into the gloom but saw nothing. Only the cave at the back. He listened for the slightest movement: silence. The only sound was that of the faint wind sweeping over the sands of Egypt as it had for thousands of years.
Crack!
The sharp sound shattered the silence. In a terrible flash of knowing, Akhon recognised the sound without ever hearing it before. The crack had come from something stepping onto a human bone.
Akhon stared at the darkness, praying to the Gods for salvation. They might bring him that, but not before what was here on Earth extracted its payment first. He grasped the worthless spear closer to him. It was better than nothing, and it would have to do.
Then the darkness at the end of the cave was broken. A pair of baleful, red eyes, something that was both animal and human, appeared in the dark. A low hiss echoed about the interior. Akhon considered a mad scramble up the side of the pit, but it was a waste of time. And time was something he did not have. His time had run out completely.
The eyes moved. In a single bound, the creature vaulted across the length of the pit towards him. How such a thing was possible, Akhon had no idea. It crashed into him, sending him skidding backwards onto the sand.
Then it was on him. Claws raked his face and chest. Akhon screamed—or tried to scream. The best he could muster was a gurgling, choking cry as blood began to flood his mouth, and he started to choke. The creature drew back from him, and Akhon caught a glimpse of what dwelt at the bottom of the pit.
Once, when he was a boy, Akhon had watched a parade through the streets of the city. The Pharaoh had exhibited a dozen creatures in cages brought from faraway lands. One of those creatures had looked human but had been smaller and covered in hair. It wasn't until many years later that Akhon would recognise it as a gorilla.
The thing that attacked him in the cave was not a gorilla.
But it was similar: the last of its kind from a forgotten era. Its face was half-human and half-ape. Its teeth—its canines in particular—were long and deadly in the starlight.
It was these teeth that the creature now sank into Akhon's neck. He tried to scream out, but it was impossible. It was impossible because his neck was being torn apart. The creature satiated itself for a moment before drawing back again to relax. Its immediate hunger had been satisfied. Now it could afford to relax and drink from the prey at its leisure.
Akhon drove the spear directly into its chest.
He was fortunate. The pointed wooden end had come in under its ribcage and slammed into its heart—or what passed for a heart. The creature screamed in sudden horror. Everyone else who had tried to kill it had tried with metal spears or knives. The desperate had even tried using stones to drive it away.
No one had ever used wood.
The creature raked Akhon's face again. By now, Akhon didn't mind because he knew he was dying. His throat was numb, and that same numbness was spreading through the rest of his body. At least he could die knowing he'd taken this creature with him.
Akhon gave one last shove of the broken spear, and the creature fell back onto the sand. It crawled away into the cave, wheezing and gasping until it took its final breath. Lying on his back, Akhon prayed. Others would typically pray for the dead to help guide them on their way, but there was no one to pray for him. There was nothing to be done about that, so he looked up at the sky and prayed instead.
The stars, he thought. I will look at the stars, and they will be the last thing I see.
His body was numb. He was lightheaded and weak. Yet something was coursing through his veins that had not killed him. Akhon closed his eyes. The next time he opened them, he saw the sky was beginning to grow light.
I have survived the night.
It would be of no use for the guards to see him injured; they might feel it their duty to finish the job. Somehow, he found the strength to crawl into the cave to lie beside the creature. Bugs had begun to fly about its corpse.
Soon they will gather around me.
Akhon closed his eyes for the last time, as darkness gathered around him, and he waited for death.
He did not die.
The next time he awoke, it was light outside, and there was no sound from the top of the pit. Miraculously, his wounds had begun to heal. He had almost recovered from the creature's attack. Akhon now sat up and examined the creature. It was even stranger than he had first thought. Whatever it was had not been seen by man in ages.
Akhon strayed into the light—and that was where he learned his first lesson. Sunlight burnt his skin like fire. He recoiled back into the welcoming gloom. The back of the cave went nowhere. The only way out was up and over the side of the pit. He was hungry by now, but it was not for food. It was a primal yearning for something he could not name.
As night drew on, he gripped the sheer walls of the pit and started to climb. To his astonishment, it was easier than he expected. He slid back only once and reached the top in a matter of minutes. There, standing at the side of the pit from which no man had ever escaped, he raised his arms and gave thanks to the Gods or demons or whatever had given him this second chance.
Then he went to find Djal.
Akhon made sure that the man did not die quickly. With his bare hands, he beat him to death in full sight of his wife and son. Then he killed them as well. That was the first step in his journey of merciless retribution. It took time, but he eventually found Pawura, the farmer who had betrayed him to the guards. By now, Akhon's thirst was terrible.
Akhon began to beat him to death, too. Before long, Pawura was a bloody mess. The mortal stroke was when Akhon tore the head from his body. He held it aloft, peering triumphantly into Pawura's face—which was when Akhon heard the scream. Mara had awoken and happened upon the attack. When she tried to drive him away, Akhon fought back to defend himself.
'I hate you!' Mara screamed. 'I hate you!'
Then she struck him even harder, and something snapped within him. Instinctively, he pushed her head to one side and bit down on her throat.
Yes.
It was better than any food or wine or earthly imaginable pleasure.
He tasted her, and she was good. He drank freely from her, and once he was satiated, he understood what it was like to be one of the pharaohs. It was not about tombs, rituals, Gods, or demons. It was about power.
Even the pharaohs were limited in their understanding. There was no eternal afterlife. There was only rebirth, and providence had granted him the ultimate form of renewal. Life was about power. Some men wielded the whip; others lived under it. The wielding of power gave a man absolute control over life and death. The pharaohs, in their petty attempts at gaining eternal life, worked their slaves to death in the building of mighty monuments.
Akhon awoke as if from a dream. He saw the girl at his feet, and he wept. What have I done? Miraculously, Mara was still alive and had started to drag herself away, leaving a bloody trail behind her like a slug.
He could leave her to die. She had done nothing to him directly. He had no reason to cause her further harm. Turning the girl over, he remembered the smile. Her shy, haunting smile. And her eyes that seemed to read his mind.
'I love you,' he said.
Mara could not answer. Akhon stared into her face and knew he would remember her forever. He knew he was a child of eternity, and she would always remain a part of him. She was his first love. His only love. He could just let her die in peace. That was the compassionate thing to do, and so he jammed her head to one side, tore open her neck, and drank until she was dead.
It was only later that the dreams began, and Mara would come to him. There would be many others that he slaughtered over the centuries, but very few that ever returned in his dreams.
He would stare into her face, and Mara's lips would move.
'I hate you,' she would say in his dreams. 'I love you.'
'I'm sorry.'
'I know.'
And she would smile.