The Deicide of Unas
A Study of the Trickster Archetype
In the ashen sands of the Egyptian desert by the bountiful waters of the Nile, a kingdom of sandstone and marble claws towards the heavens while bathed in the unforgiving rays of the blazing sun. The ancient jeweled city trembled in the sea of burning dunes, for it's enemies were many and it's allies were few. But the might of Egypt's avaricious king, Unas the Bringer of Fire, kept at bay, the many vultures who would seek to pick the kingdom's bones clean.
Unas used both charismatic diplomacy and military strength to keep the treacherous shadows of their foes at bay, but more then that he used the penetrating craft of fear. Mortals who opposed the wise and terrible King were slain and eaten, and all they held claim to was burned in a golden brazier before his mighty palace, to be fuel for his divine fire. The eternal flames of that brazier licked the night sky like the infernal tongues of an angry god, a testament to the might of Unas.
Hither came the day when Abram, the prophet of Yahweh, wandered into Memphis alongside his sister Sarai. The people of Memphis flocked to the prophet as he walked through the streets, speaking high praise of him and his beautiful sister. Indeed even Unas's own son spoke highly of Abram, speaking of his lord Yahweh, as the true god and ruler. But Unas was a jealous King, and would not tolerate a rival sovereign be it a man or god. With treacherous guile he invited the stray prophet into his palace, offering him food and succor.
In banquet they dined, feasting upon sweet breads and aged wines. Masked women danced with all the silent grace of the desert serpents, royally welcoming Yahweh's chosen. Through a deceitful mask of charm and wit, as well as many gourds of fine wines, Unas softened the prophet's defenses and dulled his holy senses. The clever Pharoah poisoned Abram's wine with a drop of Apep's venom while his wandering eye coveted Sarai as his own.
As the poisoned wine spilled from the pewter goblet unto the drunken prophet's lips, his mortal coil burst into holy flames. Abram's screams of pain echoed through all of Memphis and all in the banquet hall were struck with a warped awe. It was certain to be seen that Yahweh wished to spare his chosen a terrible death by Apep's venom. The wrathful king brandished a silver khopesh, crying out a declaration of war upon Yahweh and all the gods. Unas, excited with rage, beheaded the burning prophet with a single stroke of his mighty blade.
Criticism and slander rained upon Unas from Sarai, the dancers, the courtiers, and even his own wives. Fear tickled at their hearts and humours as they warned the rising tyrant of Yahweh's wrath. But Unas feared no creature; mortal or immortal. Like a lion his roaring challenge reached towards the heavens with a thousand, clinging hands; that Yahweh should appear before the Pharoah and prove that Abram was truly a prophet and not another treacherous charlatan of a hundred serpentine faces.
With jealousy and avarice that equaled the great Unas, Yahweh forced the heavens to turn grey over the sunbathed sands of Memphis. Day was swallowed up by a foul night and rivers of light would flow between the ashen mounds of silver lining the sky. As the heavens clashed like chariots on the dunes, a ray of light split the palace roof open. All of the courtiers gazed upon the light, their breath of essence being robbed from their lips as their bare eyes looked upon Yahweh's holy power.
Sarai was wise and learned, she knew not to stare at her sacred patron's power for mortal minds cannot comprehend it. But Unas was beyond the power of mortal man, his will was clad in bronze and iron, unshaken by the ancient strength before him. The figure of Yahweh appeared before him; with flesh like bronze, a beard and mane like spun wool, and long white robes of linen, he was truly an idol in man's image.
The barren, lifeless court of Unas lay littered with scattered bodies of beautiful dancers, elegant wives and concubines, as well as witless servants. Yahweh, shocked that a mortal was not awe-stricken by his visage, was cut down by the khopesh of Unas. His immortal, radiant blood sprayed upon the mad King, who tasted the sweet nectar of divine power. Sarai locked gazes with Unas, herself nearly breathless with surprise. The King lifted his blood-stained khopesh and pointed it at the lifeless husk of Yahweh's form, a triumphant fire blazing in his eyes. For it was here that he proclaimed that God was dead, that God remains dead, and that he has killed him.
(Afterword: This is a story I wrote for Mythology class, a study of the mythological archetype of the Trickster. I know the ending is kind of rushed and lame, but keep in mind I had to keep this under 800 words and I realized half way through that I was over 700! Ha, well I hope you enjoy! Criticism is very welcome!)