by Chris Fox
Focus, Ka-Dun. You must tend to your surroundings, or you risk being ambushed by your enemies. The learning of secrets is laudable, but we’ve other prey this night.
Blair sighed, redoubling his pace as he leapt up a stairway in a single bound. The beast was right, but it still annoyed him to no end.
At long last Blair blurred up a familiar hallway, slowing as he approached the doorway. Faint light shone from within, and his breath caught as he started down the ramp into the central chamber. The place was markedly different from either of the other Arks he’d encountered. For starters, the walls glistened with golden hieroglyphs, but it went far beyond that.
Thick, plush carpet of the deepest scarlet led in a narrow path down the ramp to the base of a small set of stairs. The stairs led up to a throne that had its back set against the central obelisk, itself towering over both the throne and the rest of the room.
“You must be the Ka-Dun Irakesh warned us to expect,” came a warm feminine voice. A figure melted from the shadows, coalescing into a pretty woman with dark hair bound in hundreds of tiny braids. She gave him a too-white smile, split by a pair of fangs. “Have you come to seize control of the Ark then, little wolf? A bold move, Ka-Dun.”
She seemed friendly enough, but he knew she was likely lulling him into complacency. He’d have to deal with her if he expected to use the light bridge. That would take concentration for at least several seconds, and he doubted she’d allow him that time.
“You know who I am,” Blair rumbled, circling the room to keep distance between them as he approached the central obelisk. “Do you have a name?”
“I am called Anput. As I understand it some legends of me survive, though they mistakenly think me some meek little servant of my husband,” she said, taking several unhurried steps in Blair’s direction. The movement kept her close to the obelisk.
“Your husband?” Blair blinked, recognizing her name. “You’re married to Anubis?”
“I see you’re familiar with the imaginative tales of our exploits,” Anput said, giving a soft, feminine laugh.
“Maybe more so than anyone else in this age,” Blair said, taking another cautious step toward the central obelisk. “I’m an anthropologist. I study the past, particularly legends of your age.”
“Marvelous,” Anput said, sauntering closer still. She had an athletic build, and from the graceful way she moved Blair was certain she was a fighter. “I’ll be sure to visit your cell. We can talk often of these legends as we await Ra’s return.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work out,” Blair rumbled, only a few steps from the stairs leading up to the throne.
“And what makes you think you can stop me from imprisoning you, little wolf?” Anput asked, delivering a truly alarming smile that made clear just who was the predator here.
“Because I didn’t come alone,” Blair grinned, ready for Liz to make her move.
“Neither did she,” rumbled a voice from behind Blair.
He turned to see the stuff of nightmares. The black-furred Jackal must be Anubis. The grey-furred wolf could be none other than Wepwawet, the stench of decay making Blair gag. Yet it was the woman behind them who turned his bowels to water.
A fiery-haired woman with toxic green eyes stalked past the others, her gaze seizing Blair like a wayward mother scooping up a toddler.
26
Secret Meeting
Mark closed the door to his tiny room, listening for several tense moments to ensure no one was lurking outside. He’d spent the last two hours in the makeshift ops center Osiris had constructed here, ostensibly so he could learn the ropes enough to be placed in command.
Osiris seemed to place a great deal of trust in him, and had given him leave to handpick his command staff from anyone in Syracuse. It was all a little too neat, and he sensed there was more at play here.
Mark straightened his tie, then concentrated as Elle had instructed him. He’d practiced using the ability to move across the room, but he’d yet to try something as audacious as teleporting the three hundred yards to the surface.
He could end up in the middle of a wall, or back in ops. Elle claimed the risk was low, but any risk was more than he liked.
A wellspring of energy flowed up inside him, bubbling to the surface and begging to be harnessed. Mark guided that energy as he’d done previously, visualizing his destination. He picked a small stand of oaks just beyond the fence ringing the compound.
There was a sharp pop, then he was elsewhere. He blinked several times, eyes rapidly adjusting to the reduction in light. It was a cloudy night with no moon, which meant the area was dark as pitch. The complex had no external lighting, which he’d have ordered if they hadn’t already been doing it. No sense letting enemies know anything of note existed here.
Mark surveyed the nondescript warehouse, with cracked paint and dirty windows. The place looked like it hadn’t been used in years. Perfect camouflage.
He turned on his heel, trotting into the darkness. Mark’s newfound powers ensured that he made no noise, and he found himself enjoying his rapid dash through the shadows. He had to be clocking at least twenty miles an hour, and it didn’t tax him in the slightest.
“You came,” a voice came from his right, and he nearly yanked the pistol from his jacket before he realized it was Elle. She materialized from the shadows near him, playful smile visible despite the limited light. “Follow me. It’s not far. They’re waiting.”
Mark fell into an easy trot behind her, loping through the wet grass as they climbed a gentle slope. Elle leapt over a chain-link fence, moving silently onto a residential street. Mark followed, carefully noting their path in case he needed to flee back the way they came.
Long minutes later, they arrived in front of a two-story brick house with boarded-up windows. Elle rapped twice at the door, which opened immediately to reveal a scowling man with thick black eyebrows. He ushered them inside wordlessly, scowl deepening as he took in Mark.
“Rest are downstairs. Bring the whelp, and be quiet about it,” he rumbled, closing the door and turning to peer through the peephole.
Mark’s doubts grew louder. If their sentry was trying to keep watch through a peephole maybe these people weren’t as impressive as Elle had made them out to be.
“Come on,” Elle said quietly, tugging at his trench coat. She led him to a narrow white door, which revealed steep stairs that descended into darkness. She started down, so he followed.
They arrived in a spacious basement that was clearly the reason this house had been chosen. It had been cleared, and now held a half-dozen hastily erected card tables with mismatched computers. Several were in use, though the people using them were now staring fixedly at Mark.
“So you managed to lure the progeny out of Osiris’s lair,” a gravelly voice rumbled from the back of the room. A man with thinning grey hair rose from one of the tables, clutching at a simple black cane. “Welcome, Director Phillips. We are pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“You know my name,” Mark said, licking his lips. “How about you share yours?”
“Very well,” the man said, delivering a cold smile as he clicked across the concrete to stand next to Mark. He offered his free hand, which shook with age. “You may call me Acula. Dr. Acula.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Mark said, raising an eyebrow.
“I told you it was terrible,” Elle muttered, mostly under her breath.
The man let his hand fall, giving an apologetic smile. “I thought that if I must use an alias, I might as well chose an amusing one. We can’t be too careful, until we’re sure where your loyalties lie.”
“They aren’t with Osiris, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Mark said, folding his arms. He surveyed the room with a critical eye. “Not with you, either, if this is the best you have to offer. I don’t know what your plans are, but I can tell you they’re going to fail. Osiris is a professional. You lot are amateurs.”
“A sadly ac
curate assessment, I’m afraid,” Acula said, frowning. He gestured at Elle with the hand Mark had refused. “Elle is one of our best—promising, but young. We lack resources, and are faced with an impossible task. We have to stop Osiris, before he destroys the world.”
“I’d say you’re a little late for that,” Mark shot back, considering whether to start back up the stairs. He decided not to. Yet. “What’s your real name, and who are you people?”
“Grandfather, tell him,” Elle said, tone sharp. “He’s going to leave if you don’t offer him a reason not to.”
“All right,” the man said, adopting a shrewd look. “My name is Alaunus. Like you I was sired by Osiris, though my rebirth came a very, very long time ago. I served the man unquestioningly for centuries, until the world changed. When the sun robbed us of our powers, Osiris became a different man. Like the rest of us, he was forced to scavenge for power in order to survive, draining other gods and artifacts of their precious strength.
“Somewhere along the way madness began to grow,” Alaunus continued, sadness sliding over his features. Mark wasn’t sure whether it was feigned or not. “Perhaps it was jealously of his brother, or perhaps he’s simply lived too long. Regardless, Osiris concocted a plan to wipe out all life on this planet.”
“So you and the Brady Bunch here decided you were going to stop him?” Mark snorted. “Where do I fit into this grand plan?”
“Osiris hasn’t sired progeny since the last age,” Elle said, resting a hand on Mark’s. “You’re his right hand. If you could feed us information, then maybe we can stop whatever he has planned.”
Mark was silent for a long moment. Something didn’t add up. If Osiris had to scavenge power in order to survive, what had this Alaunus needed to do? “I’ll think about it. Give me a few days.”
Alaunus and Elle shared a very alarming look, and Mark sensed movement behind him.
“Now that you know of our existence we can’t let you leave,” Alaunus said, straightening. All hint of the weak old man vanished. “I’m sure you understand.”
27
Parlay
Isis stalked the shadows, prowling the edge of the room as she sought some sign of Horus. It was a delicate game she played. If she didn’t offer some sign of herself, then her son would likely assume she’d fled. If that happened, he’d head straight for the central chamber, very likely stopping Blair and Liz from light walking to Olympus. So she had to give him a sign.
“I am still proud of you, my son,” Isis said, moving slowly through the shadows. “You have accomplished much, both in the last age and already in this one. Getting Sekhmet to carry you forward to the present is no mean feat, and it suggests she relies on your counsel. It gladdens me that you are a check on her rash behavior.”
“Your opinion means little, Mother,” Horus snapped. The voice came from the far side of the room. “You abandoned us. Abandoned me. You should be the voice checking Ra’s violent nature. You should be guiding her and Father to a wiser course. Yet instead you fled to another continent and set up your own empire. You deserted us, and everything fell apart. Hypocrite.”
It stung more than she’d expected, perhaps because she knew he was right. Isis could have stayed, could have argued longer and more loudly against the actions of Sekhmet, then later Osiris. Yet she hadn’t. She’d taken the easy route, giving up here and starting over.
“I apologize, Horus. You are not wrong,” she admitted, taking a cautious step from the shadows. Isis lowered her defenses, waiting. “If you wish to kill me I will not stop you. Come. Vent your fury.”
It was a calculated risk. She didn’t truly believe her own son would kill her, but the truth was she barely knew the god he’d grown into. There was every chance Horus would end her life now. Yet Horus was her own offspring. She could not kill him, could not even harm him.
Long moments passed. Horus neither showed himself nor spoke. “Horus? My son, say something. I cannot bear this silence.”
Nothing. Isis felt a moment of deep terror. Horus had tricked her. Even now he made for the central chamber; that had to be it. Isis blurred, leaping off walls and around corners as she desperately sought to reach the central chamber before her son.
Faster and faster she moved, at last skidding into the shadows just outside the doorway to the central chamber. Blair had reached it, but he wasn’t alone. He knelt at the base of the stairs leading up to the First Throne, the one Isis had commissioned so many millennia ago to celebrate her near-sister’s rule.
The woman had changed little, her face proud as she stared imperiously down at the Ka-Dun. Rendering judgement, as always. Her court was scattered about the room, some of more concern than others. Anput would flee. Anubis would fight, as would Wepwawet. Horus was no doubt lurking in the shadows as well. She couldn’t fight them all.
“Sekhmet,” Isis boomed, striding into the chamber. She shifted back, flowing into human form by the third step. Her pace didn’t slacken, and she ignored the others as she passed them. Her attention was reserved for her near-sister. “I call for parlay. What say you?”
Sekhmet, or Ra, as she styled herself, looked up in shock. Her eyes widened, and her mouth worked silently as she stared down at Isis. Isis merely waited, folding her arms across her breasts as she waited for Sekhmet to regain her composure.
“You send your pack to invade my Ark, not once, but twice. Then you have the temerity to ask for parlay?” Sekhmet said, leaning forward on her throne. She speared Isis with her gaze, and Isis knew a moment of terror. She quickly suppressed it. “Why shouldn’t I slay you and your impudent pack? I already posses the key to your Ark, as you are no doubt aware.”
“I have asked for parlay out of remembrance of the friendship we once shared. I honor the woman you used to be,” Isis said, resisting the urge to shift. She extended her right hand, summoning the Primary Access Key. It flowed into her hand, strength welling up within her as it manifested. “I will say this but once. Accept parlay, or I will show you bloodshed the likes of which not even you have seen. You are a peerless warrior, Sekhmet. Yet you know I am the world’s foremost shaper. Do you really wish to see what I can do? Your key to my Ark is meaningless. I can use the Primary Access Key to take yours from you right here and now.”
Gasps rustled through the room like a hot breeze. The tension thickened as Sekhmet’s court prepared themselves for battle. Younger members, like Irakesh, wore their confidence like armor. The older and wiser, like Anubis, grimly prepared for death. They’d heard legends of the weapon she held.
“Very well,” Sekhmet finally said. She rose to her feet, descending the steps gracefully. “I grant your parlay, in remembrance of the woman you used to be.” Sekhmet stopped before her, resting one hand on each of Isis’s shoulders. She leaned forward, kissing one cheek, then the other.
Isis tensed, but there was no subterfuge here. That pleased her, as it showed that some part of her friend remained inside the cold, undead shell.
“The rest of you, leave us,” Sekhmet said, waving a hand dismissively.
“What of the Ka-Dun?” Anubis rumbled, taking a threatening step toward Blair.
A golden sword materialized from the shadows, its blade pressed against the Jackal’s neck. Liz leaned in close, growling loudly enough for the room to hear. “How about we leave him be, ’kay?”
Sekhmet laughed, turning back to Isis. “Your latest daughter has spirit. I like her. Anubis, Isis and her pack are now under the aegis of parlay. They have full guest rights. Trevor, step forward.”
Isis turned toward a figure she hadn’t noticed, perhaps because he’d been cloaked in shadow. The flame-haired youth walked guiltily into the light, refusing to meet his sister’s gaze.
“Yes, mighty Ra?” he asked.
“Escort the Ka-Ken and her Ka-Dun to your quarters. They may rest there until the parlay is concluded,” she ordered, turning back to Isis once more. “Now, near-sister, let us speak.”
28
Get in the Fir
st Shot
Liz eyed Trevor sidelong as he led them through the Ark, letting the silence linger until they entered the room that must belong to him. It was well decorated, though it didn’t match her brother at all. Of course, neither did the strange flowing white clothing he wore, or the sword that now rode at his hip.
“You’ve changed a lot. It’s only been a few days. What the fuck happened?” she asked, quietly in case there were other ears about.
“Uh,” he said, more than a little sheepishly. “I’ve done what I had to in order to blend in.”
“Mighty Ra?” Blair asked, his tone more than a little accusatory.
“Listen. I didn’t have a lot of choice. It was either join the enemy camp and do what I can, or spend my time in a cell,” Trevor snapped, eyes flaring green. “That’s assuming they didn’t just kill me outright, which was a very real possibility.”
“Where is Jordan?” Liz asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral. Trevor had a defensive streak, and if they both ganged up on him they’d get nowhere.
Trevor avoided her gaze, pausing so long she nearly asked him the question again. He didn’t look up when he finally spoke. “They put a collar on him, and gave me the bracelet that controls it. It’s awful. He’s…basically a slave. They let him roam free, but he can’t shape or change. He answers to me, I guess.”
Liz, he’s gone native. Or is going native, Blair’s voice echoed in her head. I’m not sure we can trust him anymore.
“Did you speak up in his defense?” Liz asked, stalking to a chair and dropping into it. She tried to keep her tone level, but knew some accusation had crept in.
“No,” Trevor said, hanging his head. He paused again, finally looking up at her. He was in anguish. “I can’t, Liz. My position here is tenuous at best. Ra is learning to trust me, and she listens to my advice. I’m in a position to do some good. If I tried to free Jordan it wouldn’t accomplish anything. They won’t let him get away, and it would just weaken my position here.”
