Amenra of the Sands takes place during the 3rd Dynasty of the Old Kingdom, when Egypt was the most powerful nation in the region, if not the world. Pharaoh Netjerikhet Djoser and his predecessors have greatly expanded the borders of Egypt, pushing South into the kingdom of Kush and West towards Libya. 

      This story takes place approximately in the year 2622 BC, less than 400 years after the two regions of Egypt, Upper and Lower Egypt, were joined by King Menes. Before the lands were united, the king of Upper Egypt traditionally wore a white crown, and the king of Lower Egypt traditionally wore a red crown. After the lands were united, the Pharaoh wore a crown which combined the red and white crowns to show his sovereignty over both lands. The ancient name of Egypt is Kemet, which means, "The two lands." 

      Even 400 years after the union, there remained a great deal of regional pride among the inhabitants of Lower and Upper Egypt, and it is into this atmosphere that some level of dissention and at times, rebellion are able to occur. 

      Egypt's primary rival at the time was the southern kingdom of Kush, whose archers were of such famed skill that the Egyptians referred to their kingdom as 'Ta-sety', "Land of the Bow." While the Kushites are not at war with Egypt as this time, there remains much animosity between the nations.

      A dark conspiracy takes shape against both the Pharaoh and his daughter, fueled by an ancient prophecy. It is into the midst of this strife that the mystic Amenra finds himself plunged, forcing him to reopen old wounds between himself and the Pharaoh. Through dreams and visions, Amenra attempts to piece together the mystery surrounding the conspiracy, but can he find the answers before it is too late?

     I have strange dreams. I stand in darkness, on a grassy plain, the midnight moon casting its pale countenance upon me. In the distance, I see a clearing, where a great bonfire burns, its shimmering flames dancing about wildly in the night breeze. An old woman sits cross-legged before the fire, feverishly drawing something with her fingers in the sand. As I glide closer, I see the white paintings of skulls adorning her face, as well as the shrunken skulls hanging from her neck. She is a witch, a Kushite priestess of one of the Southern tribes.
     As I watch her feverish scrawling, three shadowy figures appear from the darkness around the fire. The first is a young woman, dressed only in a white tunic, her long, braided hair falling wildly about her muscular shoulders. A short, silver-handled sword hangs at her waist, and a silver medallion, fashioned in the shape of a serpent, hangs from her neck. She bows respectfully to the witch.
     The next figure is a massive, bronze-skinned warrior. A gigantic, barrel-chested man, dressed in a leather breastplate and leggings, armed with a thick broadsword and dagger. He wears a gilded, brass helmet, like those of the Greeks, his glowering stare burning with a murderous fierceness. He bows stiffly to the witch, not acknowledging the other woman's presence.
     The last figure to emerge is the most mysterious, and the most disturbing. Draped in a hooded, black cloak, the eerie figure shuffles forth from the darkness, bobbing its head slightly to the witch. Something about the way it moves is not natural, the figure seems to slide along, rather than walk.
     All three figures crouch down about the witch, who has stopped drawing now. She points to the sky, and begins shouting, but I do not understand the tongue. As she speaks, the flames behind her begin to grow, spewing out billowing clouds of blue-gray smoke. 
     As I watch, hazy images begin to appear in the smoke, and the witch begins to chant. I recognize the first image as the royal Scepter of Egypt, which quickly washes away, replaced by the image of Pharaoh's name, in golden hieroglyphics. The next image is that of a great serpent, coiled and ready to strike, slavering venom from its fangs. 
     Another image begins to appear, it is that of a young girl. But before the image is complete, the witch abruptly stops chanting and looks at me, suddenly aware of my presence. She points and shouts, making frantic gestures, and the entire scene quickly washes away. I awaken quickly, my body soaked with perspiration.

     The last rays of daylight were fading away like the hot wind blowing over the desert plain. The moon was already visible in the deep, blue sky, chasing the sun from its fiery domain. Jhalla wiped the beads of sweat from his brow as he removed the green cowl from his face. He glanced at the other men as he took a drink from his waterskin.
     They look exhausted, Jhalla thought as he studied the men's dusty faces. They had all stopped walking now, some sitting down to take an unannounced water break. 
     "Who told you to stop?"
     Jhalla shouted in a raspy voice, jabbing at the nearest soldier with the butt of his spear. As they quickly scrambled to their feet, Jhalla added, "It will be easier now, without the heat of Ra beating down on our necks. Swiftly now, we are almost there!"
     Indeed, they were closer than Jhalla expected, for after crossing another tall sand dune, the party could easily make out the shimmering surface of Kamen's Oasis. A large hut sat near the edge of the water. The five warriors jogged the rest of the way
down the hill, stumbling to a halt a few paces from the low camel-hide door.
     Almost immediately, the door swung open, and the men heard a booming voice come echoing out of the hut. "Who comes here to die?" the voice thundered. The men jumped at the sound of the eerie voice, but Jhalla waved for them to be still.
     "I am Captain Jhalla. I come for the mighty Amenra, by command of Pharaoh!" 
     There was an eerie silence for a few moments. Jhalla glanced at the reflection of the full moon in the still waters behind the hut.
     "Pharaoh sent you?" the voice thundered again.
     Jhalla looked around at his men before answering. The superstitious soldiers were all spreading out into a semicircle, clutching their spears, ready to fight despite their fear. "Yes, Pharaoh sent me. Show yourself or..."  Jhalla stopped in mid-sentence as a tall, robed figure emerged from the doorway.
     "I am Amenra," the figure slowly motioned with his hand, "put down your weapons, there will be no violence here," the voice sounded human now, deep resonant tones, very similar to the Pharaoh's voice, Jhalla noticed. "Come, Captain
Jhalla, let us talk." Jhalla gestured for the men to wait outside, put down his spear and followed the dark figure into the hut.
     When he stepped inside, Jhalla was startled by the bright light that suddenly flared up inside the darkened hut. As he regained his composure, he saw that the tall figure was now holding a brightly burning torch, which he used to light a small fire in the center of the floor. Curls of gray smoke wafted up through a hole in the roof of the hut. 
     "How did you do that?" Jhalla asked as he stared at the licking flames. It was not possible to light a torch so quickly, the young captain thought. The walls of the hut were adorned with religious artifacts, an ankh made of brass, several painted shields, and the shell of a giant scarab beetle, at least as large as a man's hand.
     Jhalla's mysterious host did not answer, simply sitting down cross-legged in front of the fire, allowing Jhalla to finally see him clearly. The man's face was slender, with a prominent nose and full lips, accented by a few lines of age and desert sun. 
     His deep set eyes were a thoughtful brown, in perfect contrast to his deep brown skin, and they seemed to gently wash over the fire between them. Although he had never met him before, Jhalla knew that this was his man, this was the fabled Amenra.
     "Well, Captain Jhalla," Amenra's deep voice stirred Jhalla from his musings, "exactly what does my Pharaoh want of me, after all these years?"  Jhalla detected a calculated level of sarcasm in the man's voice.
     "I am to bring you back to the City of the Nile.  Pharaoh's daughter, N'gele, is in need of your assistance."
     Amenra's arched brows rose slowly, "How does that concern me? I am no mothering woman, to busy myself with wiping milk from the mouth of a spoiled child. I ask you again, what does Pharaoh want with me?"
     "Pharaoh commands you to come to the City of the Nile." Jhalla answered calmly, staring into the crackling flames.
     Amenra's eyes smoldered like hot coals as he studied Jhalla's face. Jhalla however, continued to stare into the fire. All of the childhood stories about Amenra, Prince of Lions, warned against meeting his gaze; it was said that his brown eyes had the power to steal your soul. 
     Amenra finally spoke,  "Now I understand why Pharaoh sent you, captain.  You do not attempt threats or intimidation, nor do you show the fear burning within you. Then let us go now, Captain Jhalla, it is best for us to leave in the cool night, while Ra sleeps." 
     Without responding, Jhalla turned and left the hut.