Diamond in the Rough
by
Chris Kalyta
Blurb:
Diamond in the Rough, an erotic adventure
set at the beginning of Ancient Egypt's 3rd Dynasty. If the family of now-disgraced Queen Nefetra has their way
then the evil Set will rise again to conquer the Two Lands. How can the lowly but clever slave girl
Issamun help the brave warrior Horu-temp halt the resurrection of this
supernatural threat? As danger
after danger befalls those fighting for Egypt, can they possibly triumph
against the forces arrayed against them?
In this retelling of the Cinderella story
set around 3600 B.C., timid Issamun must cast off her life as a slave if she is
to help stop the resurrection of an ancient evil that threatens all of Egypt -
and possibly the world. As the
family that owns her plans to use the supernatural might of the fallen Set to
overthrow the Pharaoh, Issamun must discover who she is, what she seeks in
life, and whether she would be wise to aid the brave warrior who has come alone
to put down the schemes of her masters.
Is it possible to resist the soul-numbing power of Set if he does
re-awaken? Is it possible to kill
a god? And what horrors will
Issamun have to endure to save those whom she cares for? This erotic fantasy-adventure takes the
reader back to a time when mankind was just beginning to carve out civilization
from the wild and unfathomable chaos that was the world. The world of Diamond in the Rough is
one of magic and mythology, of semi-civilized ancients and cruel barbarians. This tale is a sequel to Three Jewels.
Excerpt:
A cough in the darkness made her pause.
Issamun considered calling out, but was afraid it would attract attention from
someone on the street. She felt along the wall until she reached a gap, then
she proceeded into the next room and felt along that wall. Beyond that there
was another chamber, and her eyes could now see a fourth room waited beyond the
next although it was still too dark to pick out any details.
After taking a couple of deep breaths, she
stepped away from the wall and cautiously walked to the opening. Once inside
that room she deliberately scuffed her foot on the stone floor.
“Is someone there?” came a man's voice from
the room beyond. “Hello?”
“Sh!” she cautioned, as she quickly crossed
the room. Standing at the entrance to the next room, she peered in but it was
just too dark to see anything. “Where are you?” she whispered.
“A girl? I'm across the room from you. I'm
bound!”
Issamun inched her away across the floor
until her foot touched a bare chest. She knelt and ran her fingers over the man's
chest and arms, searching for the ropes. When she did at last find them she
struggled with them until her fingers ached.
“I cannot undo them! Can't you free
yourself?” she asked. She realized after she'd spoken how stupid her question
had been.
“Did you bring a knife?”
“I'm a slave, my Lord. We aren't allowed to
carry weapons. Who are you?” Her
hands went over his arms, shoulders and neck, as she searched for injuries.
Whoever he was, she thought, he's well-muscled and large.
“My name is Horu-temp. I'm Captain of the
Palace Guard in Memphis. Did your mistress, Nefarra, send you to me?”
Issamun wrapped her arms around him and
pulled him up to a sitting position. “She did,” the slave girl lied. “She sent
me to you to encourage you to rescue us. Her father seeks to resurrect a
terrible monster that threatens all of Egypt! You must save us!”
“I will do what I can, but there doesn't
seem to be much that I can do at the moment. What are you doing?” he asked.
Issamun paused. She had been running her
hands over his face and head, and was about to pull him forward so she could
check his back for wounds when he'd spoken. “My mistress was concerned about
you and asked me to bandage any wounds you might have,” she lied. “She's a very
gentle woman, and very noble. She's always concerned about the welfare of
others.” She hoped that she was
not weighing her own heart down with too many falsehoods, but if it convinced
this man to rescue the two women then it was worth it. Ra-net had not been seen
for some time, and Nefarra believed he was overdue. Had that possible rescuer
fled?
“Ah, then continue.”
Under her hands she could feel his chest
rise and fall as he breathed. She felt his face, then ran her fingers through
his hair. There was moistness near the crown of his head. “How many times did
they strike you, my Lord?” Captain
of the Palace Guard! She could easily believe it had taken a dozen men to
incapacitate him.
“Only one. I was careless, and more than a
little angry. And that fat one seems to have something of a cruel streak.”
“Inkhtaton!” she gasped.
“Oh, you know him? I hope he hasn't lashed
that pretty body of yours. What's your name, girl?”
“Issamun, my Lord.” She undid the clasp on her skirt,
reversed the cloth and then patted his head to soak up any blood. “And you only
think I am pretty because you've seen the great beauty of my mistress, Nefarra.
Her skin is smooth as polished marble. Her eyes are like two agates. Her hair
is black and shimmers in the sunlight. Her lips are honeyed, and red as blood.”
“Yes, she's a fair one. But I spied you in
the doorway, and the sunlight that managed to make its way into this dark hole
put a halo about you as you stood there. I'd wager a field full of cattle that
your beauty rivals that of your mistress. Young women such as she surround
themselves with other pretty girls, and then dress themselves up to shine
brighter. 'A jewel in the proper setting catches the eye more so than one lying
in the dull sand',” he quoted.
“I have heard of men such as you, my Lord,”
admonished Issamun.
“Oh, you have?” he chuckled.
She touched his hair and, satisfied that
the bleeding had stopped, reversed her skirt and began to put it back on.
“Palace guards have a reputation of flirting with slave girls and bedding them
for a night or two, then casting them aside.”
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