Asten watched us with open fascination, while Dr. Hassan looked embarrassed to be witnessing our exchange. For a moment I wondered if Amon was going to respond, but then he finally lifted his gaze and reached up to push some hair behind my ear.
“Very well,” he said with a sigh. “But know that what must be done, must be done. I will leave it to Asten to explain everything.”
With a final squeeze of my hand, he stepped aside and spoke briefly to Dr. Hassan in Egyptian. Then he chanted a spell to release the golden falcon. The great bird waited silently as Asten gave us some brief instructions.
“Both of you will be flying with me,” Asten said. “Amon is too weak to carry someone right now. As to the matter of educating you regarding our plan, I will instruct you on the way.”
I glanced at the golden bird. He stood, listless, and I wondered if Amon even had the energy to take off. He refused to draw on my energy and was slowly killing himself to save me, and I wouldn’t have it, not if he was about to face down a powerful, necromancing evil priest, if not the god of chaos himself.
Asten changed into the starlit ibis, and Dr. Hassan and I mounted him, with me in front. With a jarring run and a mighty flap of his wings, the ibis took off and the golden falcon followed. Okay, spill, I thought.
Spill what?
“Talk. Tell me what’s going on,” I voiced out loud.
“Perhaps I might venture to explain?” Dr. Hassan politely inquired.
You may, the ibis replied. But do remember your boundaries this time.
“Yes, Great One.”
“What boundaries?” I demanded.
“The brothers simply wish me to be mindful of the information I share. Some of the things that I…have discovered…are not my stories to tell,” Dr. Hassan said simply. “What I can convey to you is this: on our way here, Amon shared his thoughts with me, and together we came to the conclusion that there is still time. Not all the signs are in place for the Dark One’s rising.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that we believe the chaos we’ve encountered comes from a different source than Seth himself. If we can raise Ahmose and the three can finish the ceremony, it will be too late for Seth to rise, and he and his power, no matter how great it seems to be at the moment, will remain dormant for another thousand years.”
“So does that mean we are or aren’t going to trade Amon’s special eye for Ahmose?”
Dr. Hassan paused for the briefest of moments. “We are…not.”
“That’s better. So then, what’s the plan?”
Dr. Hassan stuttered, “W-well…you see—”
Amon will distract the priest of Seth while we three locate Ahmose, Asten interjected.
“But what if he gets hurt?”
There was a long pause. As long as Amon is in possession of the Eye of Horus, he cannot be overcome, the starlit ibis stated matter-of-factly.
I waited a bit before replying. “Then you promise me that we will do everything in our power to get him out of there as soon as possible.”
That is an easy promise to keep. I do not relish the idea of allowing my brother to remain in the hands of a demonic priest.
“Fine. As long as we’re on the same page.”
Dr. Hassan piped up. “She means—”
The ibis interrupted him. I understand the general meaning. Amon is fortunate to have a devotee as loyal as you, Asten said.
The rest of the flight was spent with Asten and Dr. Hassan talking about ancient Egypt. As I listened, the heat of the day thrummed in my body and I realized just how utterly exhausted I was. The fact that I hadn’t eaten since the night before probably didn’t help, but strangely, I didn’t have an appetite.
My eyes felt sticky and dry, a condition that the wind made worse. Luckily, Dr. Hassan was with me, since I fell into a sleep so deep that I let go of Asten’s neck. Hours must have passed as I slept, because when I opened my eyes, it was to a golden-orange sunset.
I woke with Dr. Hassan securely holding on to me. He must have seen that I was getting sunburned, because he’d placed his beloved hat on my head. Embarrassed, I thanked him for making sure I didn’t fall.
Amon will be separating from us now, Asten said. Is there a message you wish me to convey?
I watched as the giant golden falcon shot past us, heading to an outcropping of hilly dunes on the other side of the Nile, while we continued southward.
“Tell him I…” Again I refrained from expressing what I really wanted to say. “Tell Amon I expect to see him again. And soon.”
After a moment, Asten gave me Amon’s reply. He says it is his utmost desire to look upon you again as well and that he will make every attempt to ensure that happens.
Asten’s feathers, gleaming with starlight, winked out as we passed over a city. “Do you think the city’s radar can see us?” I asked Dr. Hassan. “I suppose if they were aware of us, they would have launched a missile by now.”
What is a missile? Asten asked as Dr. Hassan cleared his throat.
“A missile is a large weapon made of metal that bursts upon impact, destroying everything in its range, which varies depending on the yield. In this case, our modern technologies would not apply.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because Amon and Asten cannot be seen by technology,” Dr. Hassan said. “And we are too small to be of any interest to those who would be watching the skies.”
Asten cloaked the three of us in firefly smoke, so the fact that he chose a main street with an apartment building on one side and various businesses on the other as a landing strip wasn’t too much of a concern.
As Asten changed from his ibis form into his human one, Dr. Hassan took measure of our surroundings. “The temple is approximately one mile northward. Do you see the light coming from it?”
“Yes,” Asten replied. “We will approach covertly and Amon will communicate with me the instant he learns of our brother’s whereabouts. Come, Lily. Dr. Hassan will lead us and you will stay close to me.” When I gave him a dubious look, he hurried to add, “Amon insisted.”
The three of us began walking, with me quickly falling behind. Finally, Asten stopped and placed his hands on my shoulders. “There is not much I can do to ease your pain. I cannot heal injuries like Ahmose. Perhaps you will allow me to carry you?”
“It’s all right. I can make it,” I said stubbornly as I hobbled, each step shooting biting pains through my leg up to my hip joint. I wondered if Dr. Hassan was wrong about the biloko not having venom, because my limbs felt like they’d been hollowed out. My blood coursed heavy and thick, pounding against my temples, as if it was no longer circulating but coagulating in my veins. On top of that, I was dizzy, but I attributed it more to the flight than to the itching bites on my leg and arm.
Asten frowned as he watched me take a few more steps and then admonished, “Time is of the essence, Lily. I must insist upon carrying you.”
“Fine, but I’d rather have a piggyback ride.”
Asten frowned. “I believe you misunderstand. I can become the ibis, which is a bird. I do not shift into an animal of a porcine nature.”
With a mutual chuckle and a little help from Dr. Hassan, I was soon settled on Asten’s very warm and very bare back, my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms draped over his shoulders. “This will be much faster. Come, Hassan,” Asten urged as he trotted forward.
Even barefoot, Asten crossed rock and sand, pavement and gravel without so much as a flinch. He moved quickly, pausing only to reassess our direction, and then pressing forward. Dr. Hassan followed silently. When we stopped behind some trees, Dr. Hassan, panting from his exertions, helped me climb off Asten’s back.
“What do we do now?” I whispered.
“We wait,” Asten said, staring intently into the darkness as he listened for Amon’s voice.
Feeling anxious about Amon, I took my notebook from my bag and sketched the temple to try to kill time.
The Kom Ombo t
emple was not as well preserved as other archaeological sites in Egypt. It rested on a high dune, and the Nile stretched to the east. Kom Ombo looked more like a Greek temple than the Egyptian ones I’d seen so far.
Several wide columns supported a crumbling upper segment that appeared to be a roof terrace with only a piece of the pylon gateway surviving. Each column was lit with a soft yellow gleam that gave the whole building a haunted air, especially when the wind picked up and whistled between its cracks and crevices. It was almost as if the ghosts of priests and pharaohs from the past were whispering in the dark shadows of the columns.
Dr. Hassan pointed to my drawing. “The right side is called the House of the Crocodile, and this half is the Castle of the Falcon.”
“I thought this was the temple of Apophis, the crocodile god.”
“It is. But do you see the dividing line, right there?” He pointed to the building. “If you cut the temple in two, there would be equal parts on both sides. There are mirror entrances, two courts with a central altar in each, double hypostyle halls, an identical pair of colonnades, and one chapel for each side. Each section of the temple was managed by a different head priest.
“In ancient times the Nile ran much closer to the temple. Crocodiles, revered as sacred creatures, lounged in the hot sun on the riverbank next to the entrance. Later, when the Nile shifted, the crocodiles left. Regardless, there were and perhaps still are hundreds of mummified crocodiles in and around the temple grounds.”
“Interesting. But who was the second half of the temple dedicated to?” I asked. “Did it have something to do with Amon? I’m assuming it did because of the falcon.”
“Not Amon per se, but Horus—one of the gods who lent him his power.”
“But what are—?”
I was distracted when I heard Asten gasp, and whipped around. “What is it?” I hissed. “What’s happening?”
Asten took a deep breath and then schooled his expression. “It is no less than we expected. Gather your things. We must seek Ahmose.” Under his breath, he murmured, “Let us hope that the sacrifices were not in vain and that we will find him.”
Quietly, we made our way into the temple, searching in the dark shadows of the columns and looking behind any slab of stone big enough to conceal Amon’s brother.
“Amon and the dark minion of Seth are engaged on the other side of the temple. Ahmose is hidden here. At least, that is what he told Amon.”
“Will you be able to sense him?” I asked.
“I cannot hear his voice until he has been called from the realms of the dead. His body is no different from these ancient corpses’.” Asten pointed to a walled-in section covered with clear glass. Behind the glass, there were dusty dead crocodiles of various lengths.
“Ah, those are some of the crocodile mummies I mentioned,” Dr. Hassan pointed out.
“Thanks. I figured,” I whispered.
Asten had cloaked us, but there was no sign of Ahmose or a sarcophagus anywhere in the crocodile section of the temple. We checked every room, doorway, and standing stone, but encountered nothing except the sting of windblown sand.
“We are deceived,” Asten murmured.
“Well, yeah. The bad guy never shows his hand. Come on, let’s go rescue Amon,” I said, and took a step back toward the center of the temple, but Asten darted his arm out to stop me.
“It is too late,” he whispered.
“What do you…” I paused as the wind became more forceful. A dark cloud of sand swept the length of the open court in a whirlwind. “…mean?” I cheeped as Asten scooped me up in his arms and began to run.
Dr. Hassan darted around a large column and through a doorway. “Here, Great One! We can hide!”
Inside the dark room, we plastered ourselves against a wall, hoping to remain undetected. When the sandstorm passed by, we waited for several minutes. I looked up at Asten, who gave me a relieved smile. Just when we thought it might be safe, a tremor rocked the temple. The dirt floor beneath us sank several inches and I staggered against Asten, who caught me easily.
There was a small opening at the top of the wall opposite us, but it looked much higher than it had just moments before. Lifting my finger, I pointed to it and started to mouth Something’s wrong to Dr. Hassan when I felt a heavy pull on my ankles. It was a squeezing sort of weight, like being caught in a boa constrictor’s clutches. I looked down and was puzzled to see my feet were buried beneath the sand. How did that happen?
I distinctly remembered the floor being hard-packed when we’d come in. Suddenly, my eyes flew to several objects. A heavy stone across the room was now one-third sunk into sand. Crumbling rock at the base of the wall was completely gone. And my bag, which I had thrown to the ground when we’d come in, was half buried.
It didn’t make any sense. I tried to pull my legs free but only sank deeper. The sand was now halfway up my shins. “Asten?” I cried in a panic, squeezing his arm.
“I know, Lily. It was a trap.”
“Dr. Hassan?” I called out, twisting to see him.
“I am here,” he replied weakly. He had sunk up to midthigh.
Turning toward the wall, I scrabbled for purchase, trying to reach something that would halt my descent, but my actions served only to speed up the process.
“Stop, Lily,” Asten demanded quietly.
“Isn’t there something you can do? Some sort of magic to get us out?”
“I have tried. From the time I first noticed the quicksand, when the room shook, I have tried weaving spell after spell. It makes no difference. The Dark One has cursed this sand. Once you are captured by it, it does not let you go.”
“But we’ll suffocate! We’ll die!”
“Yes. You will. As for me, I will spend eternity buried alive.”
“This can’t be the end! Why are you giving up? Surely Amon can save us!” I thrashed back and forth wildly and sank up to my chest.
“Lily!” Asten cried. “Moving makes it worse! You must remain still!”
Stretching my arms up, I desperately clutched his fingers, the pressure of the sand like a vise on my chest. But instead of Asten pulling me out, I dragged him down with me. I could no longer turn my head enough to see Dr. Hassan. Tears ran down my face as I hyperventilated. The sand crept up to my neck, my arms so heavy I finally dropped them. This was it. I was going to die a horrible death, one of the worst I could imagine.
All things considered, I would have preferred being crushed in the stone cube in the Valley of the Kings. At least then, I would have been with Amon. A slight tug on my hair tilted my head back. I had a few more seconds of breathing.
The sand stretched gritty fingers over my scalp, filling my ears. I managed to suck in a huge breath, and then it was over my mouth, creeping over my forehead. I closed my eyes, and sank into the viscous abyss.
Drowning in quicksand is a little better than drowning in water. There is no thrashing, kicking, or head shaking. No desperate struggle for the surface. No glint of sun above to beckon you not to give up. Just a quiet shrouding. An inevitable sinking, as if your body has been bound in a warm cocoon.
I would imagine that the sensation is not unlike birth. The sand slides upward, over your skin, which is disorienting since it feels like it’s flowing in opposition to gravity. Intense pressure squeezes your limbs and torso. Your lungs burn with fiery pain, but you wait, and wait, and wait, hoping, praying, and pleading for the travails to be over, wishing for that moment of delivery when the cold rush of air finally allows you to scream.
But then you realize that you aren’t dreaming. That this isn’t a birth, a becoming. No. Instead, this is an ending. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. The shifting sands lead nowhere. Waiting and holding your breath is pointless. You will be swallowed whole.
The mind settles at last, finally resigning itself to fate as you prepare yourself for death. You wonder what the sand will feel like when you breathe it in. Will it hurt? Will you cough? Will you feel the grit filling
your lungs? How long will it take for you to suffocate? And what will happen to your body after you’re dead? Will you sink to the bottom, eventually hitting solid ground, or will you just fall forever, sliding through slippery nothingness until the sand rips the flesh from your bones and little pieces of you are messily strewn around in the quagmire?
These were my thoughts as my body sank. Every object that touched my skin, sand and other, was a new sensation. The pressure on my lungs, the tugging on my body hurt in a way I’d never experienced before.
I became hyperaware of my surroundings, which was why, when my legs suddenly became cold and the sand creeping up my pants began to slide back down in wet clumps, I knew something had changed. That there was at least a pocket of air directly beneath me.
Even though my lungs were ready to explode, I held my breath for a few more heartbeats, then shifted. My lower half dangled freely, but my upper half, the half that needed to breathe, was still stuck. The quicksand seemed to clutch at my shoulders and hair, unwilling to give up its victim.
Desperately, I dug down, scooping handfuls of sand until my fingertips broke through and a dry wisp of air tickled the pads of my fingers. I kicked and thrashed, wriggling my exhausted body until, with a wet sucking noise, the sand gave way and I was expelled into a dark cavity.
Choking, I sucked in a quick breath as I fell, not knowing if I was going to hit solid ground and die or be sucked back into the quicksand and have to go through it all over again. My ears were full of sand, but I thought I heard a ghostly voice calling my name. Gasping and wheezing, I flailed at the air, my body twisting and somersaulting as I dropped.
I developed a sudden sympathy for Alice, slipping down the rabbit hole. I didn’t know what I wanted the most—to stop falling, to throw up and get it over with, or to be able to see. Any one of those seemed like an incredibly precious gift at that moment.
As I plummeted, the minutes stretched long and torturous, and I came to accept my fate. I was no longer hoping for deliverance. If I were going to get out of this, it would have happened already, I told myself. No, I was in some kind of never-ending limbo. A terrible purgatory that reminded me of all my weaknesses, faults, and regrets, and there was no way out. Perhaps I was already dead. My eyes stung with tears and I whispered a name. It wasn’t the name of my parents or my grandmother; it wasn’t even God.
Reawakened Page 28
