Disclaimer: The concept and Characaters of Mummies alive are property of DIC international. Tharankhenat and Trynia are my own creations, as are Mennehotep, Tjenament, Sethian, and the characterization of Sehnmut. Lyris is property of the goddess Mia. This story is written for amusement of MA fans, and in no way is meant to infringe upon copyright. If you wish to use the characters of my fanfic in your own tales, let me know first...

By Trynia Merin

**************************************************************************************

Background: I always wondered what happened to Chontra after Rath died. I offer a humble explanation as to why. This is just a piece of what I'm working upon. I use concepts from my Stranger from a distant time story...

And the appearance of Rath's descendant, a grandchild of one of his many siblings that appear in fanfic. He is Tharankhenat, Royal Magician under Pharaoh Tuthmoses III and Queen Mennehotep...

************************************************************************************

Trynia lay on her back, beneath a star flooded sky. Overhead the nocturnal river spilled and undulated, undimmed by smog or pollution. Her in the desert she could see scores of stars that glittered; glass fragments shattered and strewn in random patterns. Such random pattern were interpreted by astrologers to have certain conformations.

Her view was eclipsed by a tall thin shadow. "Milady," it said softly. "What are you doing so far from the palace?"

"I might ask you the same question, Royal Magician," she answered.

Silver in the moon light, the long cloak whirled about his shoulders as he tossed it down. There was a brief grinding of sand as he pushed his serpentine staff into the dune nearby. Bending on long legs he stooped, and sat upon his cloak. "Actually I came to look at the stars as well," he admitted. "You're welcome to join me upon my cloak. It is far more comfortable than sitting merely in the sand..."

"Why thank you," Trynia smiled, rocking to her feet. Sand fell from the back of her skirt as she brushed it off. Both people stretched out side by side on the voluminous cloak, hands folded behind their necks. Beneath his cloak the soft sand conformed to their backs, a perfect cushion.

"Every night for the last month you have come out here to this spot," said the royal Magician to her.

"Affirmative," she nodded.

"May I perchance ask why?"

Trynia turned her head to glance at him. Still he wore that tall headdress with the fall of cloth that covered the back of his slender neck. It added height to the already tall magician. He literally towered head and shoulders above many others in the royal palace at Memphis. Now he looked like one of those statues in the quarry, waiting to be hoisted into a vertical position by many free laborers. "I suppose you could say... I was feeling homesick..." she admitted, struggling to put abstract thoughts into words he could understand.

"You miss your native land," he nodded. "But are you not happy here in Msir?"

"It is a beautiful land," said she, glancing at the silhouettes of the tall trees rising against the stars. Starlight reflected off the Nile, a mile or so away. It answered the huge star river that split the sky in twain above them.

"This is one of the best places to live," he said, with great pride. "Crops are plentiful, people are happy. You have your friends here at the palace, a roof over your head, a mat to sleep upon...."

"It's a good place all right," said she. "And you have been so kind. Like a family. But its just not home..."

"And somewhere up there... is?" said Tharankhenat, glancing up at the stars.

Surprise jerked Trynia's sturdy body. How could he possibly understand a concept such as alien beings from other planets. Granted he was far more intelligent than the average Msirian, and that was saying much. For the average Msirian possessed a clever mind. "Why, yes," she said finally, the disbelief at his revelation setting in. "However did you come to that conclusion?"

"Simple logic," he sniffed, a hint of arrogance setting in. "But the others would not understand as I do. You have often said that your origins are far too complicated for us to understand."

"Sadly, yes. Your people are not ready for such knowledge... What precisely have you determined by logic?"

"That those stars you see overhead, are children and siblings of Ra," he said thoughtfully. "There are other people looking at us somewhere in a sky much like this. And they wonder if we exist. We see the campfires of the gods up there... and why cannot there be others that look at their own skies and see our Ra there, as one among many?"

"You say in Msirian tradition the stars are the souls of the departed. Could I not be a fallen god or goddess?"

"I had thought that at first," he admitted, turning his head to face her. "But I now realize you are a person as I am. Mortal. For you have flesh and blood, and can be wounded. Certainly your flesh is fused with metal in places. Yet that is just ornamentation. Machinery. Like what we put on to protect us in battle... In addition, your knowledge is far beyond what many know. Yet it can be questioned, unlike the word of the gods..."

"So in conclusion you evaluate I am from the stars..."

"From a world among them yes," he said, softly. "I have always believed your word was truth. Even if I did not understand till now."

"You don't know how long I have waited for someone to understand. How difficult it is to keep my ideas and words in the framework of this Msirian society's mythology..."

"I know the real knowledge is forbidden to most," said he. "For only a few could comprehend its majesty. What loneliness arises from the possession of sacred truths."

"It is so hard," she added, voice cracking. As if the months of silence were spilling into this one moment in time. "I want so badly to return home. And I cannot, though I try. For to educate you in the ways of my world would ruin your society and rend its development asunder..."

"I know," said he, turning over on one side to look at her. His angular face melted into concern.

"All I can do is look up at the stars, and dream," she choked. "And find that one point of light I can call home. And know they wonder where I am..."

"But we are your friends here in Msir," said Tharankhenat. "Would it be so terrible to stay by the Nile? You have a life here, and people who love you. Not everyone can be a Royal Guardian as you are... or as I am..."

"Dear Tharankhenat," she sighed. "I appreciate what you say to me. I cannot think how I would have remained sane without someone of your wisdom to speak with..."

"We have made many strides with your machine," he said, encouragingly. "Each day I sense we are close to a breakthrough... with my magical spells we've..."

"I doubt it will ever work," she sighed again. "Despite all the advances this society of Msir has made, you are all so young. You have little of the machines and technology of my world. Yet you are so advanced in the powers of the mind..."

"Trynia," he said, voice even softer now. "Did you ever stop to think that perhaps you have not returned was due to the fact you might not want to return? That the gods themselves have put you here for a reason by the Nile? Menne and Kara would be in the land of the Dead now if you had not been there to save them..."

"I know," said she.

"Even if you did return, we would be lost without you. You have touched our lives with your tales of other lands. No one can remember the ancient tales as you can, or give them such life as you have. WE would all be sad to see you leave."

"As would I..."

"Menne would miss you... I would miss... I mean all of us..."

"As would I..."

"It's so hard to put into words," he said, fighting the ideas that sprang into existence. "The face of Ra would not shine so brightly upon our own. The winds would not laugh as they caress the desert dunes or the trees. And the stars would not appear as dazzling when you sit here beneath them... without you to be here to share them with. The city would seem an emptier place... Oh by Thoth-Ammon I cannot find the right words..."

"What are you saying?" she gasped.

"Dear singer of tales, do not abandon us. For we would... I would... miss you terribly."

Long fingers seized her hand, and raised it to his full lips. Vehemently yet gently he kissed the back of her hand with his nose and mouth. Her heart pounded with a force that only came when she was fighting for her life. Such tenderness came through his simple gesture.

"Hush," said she. "Do you not think I know your feelings? Those words are not spoken by others. But by you yourself."

"How could you?"

"You wrote those words about me... not the others," said she. Sadness came into her bright eyes. "In your journal. And every night you memorized them, mustering the courage to say them to my face..."

Spluttering he released her hand, and pushed away. Anger spread in his features as he exclaimed, "You... read my journal.... my innermost thoughts..."

"Of course not!" she shouted back, insulted by his accusations. Her hand seized his, gripping with the strength of a vise. "Believe me I would never do such a thing! You forget I have observed many people in my travels! Each gesture, each glance speaks volumes! I have seen many a man who wishes to tell the object of his love what he holds in his heart. Only through writing can he find the courage to express those secret revelations. When he puts ink to papyrus..."

How did she know? He asked himself. Tharankhenat's heart leapt that she had not read his scrolls. He trusted her word, more than anyone else save the Great High Wife herself. Years of training as a magician were proceeded by years of training as a scribe. Even though he'd chosen to be a Magician, the initial training was still there. Writing was his tool, his refuge. Endless stories and love poems written with her as the subject. As Sehnmut had written about the Queen...

Would she tear up his love and throw it back in his face? Laugh at the skinny awkward fellow who dared learn Magic?

"How young and innocent you are," she said, eyes moistening with tears. "So much pain in that face as you look at me now. The anger and frustration at being smarter than the rest. How tormented by the deeds of having to live up to your ancestor's exploits. If you failed, you would pay the price of humiliation. And you were humiliated. Whenever you misread a spell or tripped over a line they'd laugh..."

"I would understand, if you did not hold me in your favor," he sighed, looking away from her. His eyes squeezed shut, as if expecting a verbal slap, or even a physical one. "But I cannot deny the feelings... in my mind... or my heart..."

"I have always known your feelings," she said. "Yet you have confirmed them more so than ever. You are so bright and gifted. I could not help but love that about you. But this love could only bring you pain... I fear. To love me is to invite loneliness..."

"I did not mean to offend you," he said.

"You do not offend me in the least," she said. "But I warn you. To love me is to invite pain. I am an observer. I cannot be held responsible for any consequences of your reaching out to me.. I could bring you great misery..."

"But I could bring you great joy," said he, taking her hand again in his gauntleted one. "You do not have to face the dangers alone..."

"So young, and sweet," she choked. Trynia lost the composure of many years at the touch of his lips on her hand. "You cannot comprehend... and you are so gallant. I cannot resist... any longer.."

Her tears came, and she put a hand over her eyes. The Kohl painted around them must be smudging. Appearance was a vain superficial construct, but she could not help but feel conscious. All the base human emotions washed over her. Tharankhenat extended his long arms, and drew her close. To rest her head on his shoulder as she cried. He was taller than she, kneeling their on his cloak in the sand, lithe and strong like a python. Muscles quivered with life. Her own cybernetic arm slipped round his waist, and grabbed tightly. She tried to hold back crushing strength. For as a human he was far more delicate than she. He did care. With a fold of his robe he dried her tears.

"Do not cry my love," he said softly. He turned her to face him, and leaned forwards to caress her nose with his. The simple gesture of affection melted any last reserve. An aching need filled her sophisticated mind. She seized him in her arms, and drew him close again. Eagerly her lips caressed against his, and choked off his surprised gasps. He was not accustomed to this sort of gesture. Yet he caught on fast, running hands over her thickly braided hair so pomaded with wax and oil. Time seemed to stand still as the buzz of his thoughts flooded her electromagnetic senses. He had the aura of a Magician, so much more powerful than the royals in Msir. Soon they had drawn apart, gasping for breath as they lay side by side facing each other. Still her golden ornamented hand was firmly clenched in his long bronze fingers.

"Do you still feel sadness?" he asked her simply.

"I do not feel quite so homesick, if that is your question," said she, leaning her chin on her folded arm. The beryl green eyes twinkled with a bit of mischief.

"Good," he nodded, with a self satisfied smile. "I would hate to think I did not have the answer to a situation..."

"This is not a contest," she laughed aloud. He was joking with her. Somehow the aching in her soul was much less. For she had a reason to want to remain here in Msir. How strange to find love here in this desert. Rather love had found her. Yet would she be able to enjoy it?

*********************************************************************************
Trynia Remembers:

***************************************************************************************

The Queen had died three years back, in her prime. Some mysterious illness had stricken her down before her time. And Trynia had given the Prince and Princess all her guidance. They'd gone to rescue the Prince as Kara and Chontra had returned from exile. The Queen had one son, and a daughter they'd sworn to protect. Tharankhenat had asked Trynia for her hand in marriage... or so she recalled. It had been a tentative, and perhaps foolish thing to publicly announce their love. But long had it been suspected.

Chontra had come before the Prince, thirsting for revenge. If she tasted his soul, she would be immortal as Scarab had. And Tharankhenat wold be powerless to stop her. In the years since she left, he had gained much power. Trynia had taken her on, giving the Prince time to escape. Now she was damned if Chontra was to win. Angrily she placed herself in Chontra's line of fire. Energy rained on her, and she absorbed it. But there was an upper limit.

Tharankhenat saw the terrible scene, and shivered with rage. He aimed a magical blast at Chontra, knocking her off balance. She roared and spun upon him. Easily he fended off her gesture with one of his own. They faced each other, magician to sorceress.

"You will pay for the sins of your ancestor," she laughed. "I swore to make the lives of his family miserable. And you will be the last of your line!"

"Don't count on it, witch!" he returned, holding up his staff. "I have learned a thing or two since last we sparred!"

"A feeble magician... with all the power, and not the guts to use it properly! You are a weakling, just like your ancestor before you! Die!"

Fireballs rained on him. Raising his cloak, they exploded harmlessly against it. He summoned a battering rain to extinguish the flames. Chontra screamed, levitating as she gestured at the floor. But Tharankhenat too spread his cloak wide, hovering to safety as the pit opened wide.

They flew at each other, eyes blazing. Their hands met as energy raged through them. Chontra screamed as she channeled all her force into him. And he pushed right back, meeting her measure for measure. Angrily she hurtled to the floor, energy spent as he hovered above her in triumph.

"Give up your hatred," said he. "I have no argument with you. Begone!"

"Your family will pay for what Rath did to me! All your happiness will turn to sorrow and rot in its morass!"

Screaming she threw up her hands, and turned herself into a bizarre creature, much like a serpent herself. Her hair became hissing snakes, and her body twined into a long tail.

A bolt caught him off guard. He crossed his arms over his chest, chanting an incantation as he summoned sacred armor. The bolts bounced harmlessly off the cobra helmet and breastplate. Metal tipped fingers hurled her magic back. She wrapped herself around him and squeezed the life from his body. But his armor allowed him to compress himself as well as she tightened. The Gorgon looked him full in the face, laughing wickely as he struggled against her.

Trynia shook her head, and recovered. All she saw was her love being crushed to death by a large Gorgon Medusoid. Angrily she wrenched at the huge coils as she pitted her massive strength to prize him loose.

"Trynia stop!" he cried. "It's not necessary!"

"How can this be?" she realized, turning her head to see the Bard wrenching her loose. Tharankhenat dropped to the floor, momentarily stunned. His armor absorbed most of the impact as he landed.

Snarling she turned on Trynia. The Bard punched and kicked as Chontra turned herself into a massive creature somewhat like a dragon. They rolled over and over with screams and snarls. Finally Chontra saw only one option. She chanted yet another ancient spell. Lightening hissed from the heavens, and ripped through Trynia.

"You idiot," Trynia laughed. "That will have no effect upon me!"

"This will!" she cried, and raised the power. Trynia felt life being sucked from her systems as Chontra pulled her living electromagnetic force from her.

"Trynia no!" Tharankhenat shouted, and hurled a magical blast at Chontra. She screamed in pain, and released the Bard. As he leapt he caught her in his arms. The sizable and sturdy alien pressed him beneath her weight. However, his telepathic cushion broke their fall this time.

"Why I do believe I have found a way to extract payment!" laughed Chontra. Before they could recover, she hurled a spear of energy. Trynia, with much faster reflexes intercepted it before it hit the Magician. Even with his armor she suspected it would be a mortal wound. White hot fire shot through her as the spear imbedded in her chest.

She collapsed into the Magician's arms. Shock came over him as he realized she was barely moving in them. "Why..." he gasped, cradling her there as he lowered her onto his kilted knees. "I could have stopped you... saved you..."

"Because... my love... it was necessary," she coughed.

"Now you have a reason to fear and hate me!" Chontra laughed, as she hovered above them. Anger exploded in Tharankhenat's brain, and he lost his control. Laying Trynia to one side, he whirled his staff, converting it into a sword. He cared nothing about what the next minutes would bring. Save that his love was badly hurt, and she was responsible.

Shrieking he attacked Chontra, sword slicing at her wickedly. She did not anticipate the force of his blow. Even her magic could not stop the inevitable thrust of the blade downwards as her wrists raised to stop its descent.

"It's... not possible!" she gasped, fighting him. This time his strength was far greater than any foe she'd yet faced. "Where... is this power coming from?"

"A source you'll never master," he hissed, almost like the serpent whose aspect his armor reflected. "You have taken this hideous form! Then be forever cursed with it! For now it will take your arts to keep your beauty fresh..."

"No!" she cried, feeling the effects of his spell. "It cannot be!"

"Go forever to the Western Gate, foul sorceress and source of hatred! Never to return in this time to Msir! Begone and vex us no longer..."

"You cannot have that power!" she screamed. "You cannot..."

She faded away in a blaze of smoke and fire. Her soul and body vanished as it sped away to the mouth of the Nile.

Tharankhenat raced to Trynia, taking her head and shoulders into his lap. Still he wore his armor. "My love, we have defeated her," she choked, coughing up dark ichor that looked like blood.

"I must get you out of here..." he said, taking her in his arms. Telekinetically he enhanced his strength so he could carry her safely.

"It is too late," she gasped, coughing more blood as he ran with her in his arms. "I am... slipping into sleep..."

"Hold on," he urged her. "Just for a little longer hold on..."

By the time she lay upon a slab in his lab, her life force was almost to nothing. There was little any of the doctors or he himself could do. Anger filled him. She knew the end was near, as did he. In her last minutes their lips met as she felt the hibernation process beginning. How could she tell him. She started to... but then her systems went off line...

And they were beginning the process of mummification. She could hear his voice as it chanted the death spells. And see his face veiled by the mask of Anubis. She could not shout, to tell him she was fine. That this was only temporary...

That her fate was not in the stars, but in herself….

***************************************************************************************