Lion of the Sands

by Robert Sullivan

  Only two of the evildoers remained, Hequaib and Protokei, and now, faced with certain defeat, they threw down their weapons and ran to the aft deck, screaming and lamenting their fate. Naguib and the Omars followed, along with other members of our crew. I remained at the tiller, unmoving, the blood of Nabob running beneath my sandals, the blood of the slain Nubians fresh against the cage and on the timbers of the deck.

  I saw that Hequaib and the Nubian now stood at the railing of the forward deck, their faces red and angry. I could not hear what was said but after only a moment both Hequaib and the Nubian leapt from the railing. Naguib and the Omars ran to the railing and looked over and I watched them, believing that Naguib would turn and order us to the sails, to bring our mighty ship to a halt so as to bring Hequaib and the Nubian back on board. But Naguib did not turn, and the Omars did not turn, and when I looked behind, across the railing of the rear deck, I saw the dark heads as they bobbed in our wake. In the far distance, off our port side, two small islands rose from the sea. As I watched I saw that Hequaib and the Nubian might swim to the islands. But truly it was a great distance and, even though these men had sought to harm us, still I feared a little for their lives. I do not know if they were able to swim to safety. I have always hoped that they did so. I did say this to Naguib only one time, many weeks later. But he sniffed and said to me that the Gods would only watch over those that watch over others. When I said I did not understand his words, he would not speak with me again about Hequaib or the Nubians.

  Our mighty ship was again chastened and silent, all on board filled with sadness and fear. How many more of our comrades would we lose? In but moments five more of our band had departed, two into the dark waters, three unto the afterlife. I feared that our journey was filled with bad omens.

  * * *

  (Here endeth the ninth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, assisted by Pamu, Son of Agymah, and Paser, son of Khanefer and Taheret, at the house of Agymah and Eti, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox.)

  Part X – Giants of the Deep

  (Here is written the tenth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, at the house of Agymah and Eti, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox.)

  And so we continued our journey south, each day cooler than that before, the spray of the sea cold and icy, the sun weak in the sky, the ocean dark and forbidding. All on board now wore the long leggings and boots of leather, and the leather shirts with hair and wool lining. In the mornings the rigging was coated with ice, slippery and cold to the touch, so the warmth of the leggings and thick boots was indeed welcome.

  But as we sailed further south we were not a happy ship. We had started our journey with a crew of one score and four. But seven of our number were now lost. For even the most lowly of Gods this was inauspicious. All on board knew this so I prayed silently to both Ra and Osiris that night that they might bring us home safely. Naguib was concerned that should we lose any more of our comrades, if by death or desertion or by accident, then it would become very difficult to sail the large ship. And for this to be so at this early time in our journey was to fill Naguib’s heart with worry. And because Naguib worried, so did we all. But for all our worry and woes we did not stop. We sailed on. For to return was to face failure and possible death. To sail on was also to face failure and possible death. But should we continue there was at least a hope of success. That we would deliver our cargo to the land of Gond, and that we would journey home to the cheers of the crowds and the thanks of the Pharaoh and his court. I must admit it did seem but a dream as we sailed ever deeper into the cold.

  And it was at this time also that we first saw the monsters of the deep, having been at sea greater than four moons since our passage through the Pillars. The day, like many others, dawned cold and dull, the sea covered with a thick mist that swirled through the rigging of the ship. I could not see even the tops of the masts on that morning and, when I stood on the foredeck and looked to the rear deck, over the cages of the Beasts, I could see only the shadows of Naguib and Omar and the Nubians who held the long arm of the tiller. When moving the ship through the mist Naguib would ask that we folded the sail of the second mast, leaving only the smaller sail of the front mast to catch any wind. But there was often little wind as the mist lay heavy on the water, and so we moved slowly, the water slapping lightly against the sides of our ship, two Nubians crouched on the bow. One held a drop line and leaden weight, which he cast before the ship to know how much water lay beneath our keel. The other watched for rocks in the water.

  It was then that we heard the strange roaring sound. It seemed to come from our front but of this we could not be sure, for the thickness of the mist was such as to make all sounds seem dull and leaden, and seemingly to echo from all sides. Then it came again and the Nubians at the bow fell back, shouting in fear, for there, at the front of our ship, a monster lay atop the grey ocean, water and foam spraying high in the air from an opening at its back. Never had we seen the like, and many men fell to the deck and began calling on Osiris and other Gods to save them. Again the creature roared and sprayed water in the air and I heard Isesi squealing with fear. As I ran toward our weapons rack I thought to myself that he sometimes sounded like a young girl, and I felt like beating him. But these thoughts were soon gone as the creature was joined by its brethren, all huge and black, all rolling and sliding on the surface of the water, bolts of spray and foam leaping into the sky. Both the Omars and I took a sheaf of arrows and a long bow from the rack and ran to the front of the ship. Close behind me Naguib and Omar the Centurion came, each carrying a spear. The Nubians at the bow were still shouting in terror as we ran toward them. They crouched under the kitchen sail, their hands over their faces, wailing and weeping. Even worse than young girls I thought. More like babies.

  We threw ourselves against the railing on the foredeck as the creatures roared again, water and foam raining down upon us. I notched an arrow and peered over the railing. But Naguib’s hand fell upon my shoulder and I did not loose the shaft at the rolling black shapes. He motioned that I should wait, so together we watched. The huge black shapes were joined by many smaller ones, all blowing clouds of spray and foam into the sky. As we watched, several lifted huge tails into the air and slapped them down onto the water, again sending forth huge waves and splashes of foam and water. I think it was then that I realised that these were not monsters, not really, though their was size such that they were fearsome. I saw now that they giant fishes, and that they now moved with our boat through the water, and we could see their tails moving back and forth.

  Indeed they were giants, the like of which none of us had ever seen. These fish were larger than anything that you could imagine, large enough to feed all that lived in a large town. Nay. Even greater. Enough even to feed all that lived in a city such as Luxor. Each of the elder fish was greater than three score cubits in length. And of the younger fish each measured not less than two score cubits from head to tail. The top of each fish was black and gleaming but when they rolled in the water we could see that their undersides were white like that of an egrets feathers. Each fish had a huge mouth but no teeth that we could see. They did not seem to be a fierce animal and, as our ship sailed slowly through the mist, we watched these strange monsters of the deep. The larger ones swam in a wide arc, the smaller ones within. It reminded me of our last battles with the Beast, of the way in which the elder Beasts sought to protect the younger. I must admit that it seemed strange to me that a fish could feel so for its young. Even the Nubians came forward and crouched at the rail. But they watched with fear, their eyes rolling white against their dark skin. Mushariff stood beside me. He snorted and spat more betel over the railing.

  As the giant fishes swam beside our mighty ship I looked around me at my comrades. They were a strange manner of men. Did I appear to them as they appeared to me? Their bodies clothed in brown and yellowed leathers, their
heads adorned with strange headwear with laces beneath their chins, their feet covered in large leather boots filled with hair and fur? Was my skin now so brown that when held against the burnished timbers of the deck there was little to tell them apart? Did my eyes also seem so white against the dark of my skin that they bulged from my head? Even Naguib now looked as if one with the Nubians, his face so dark that the purple stain had all but disappeared. But his large nose remained red as always. And, of course, the mighty Beasts, their eyes staring red in the night, their terrible claws sheathed by day as they slept, their appearance so fiercesome, so terrible that, even though I saw them each day, still each morning when my eyes came upon them I would gasp a breath and feel a shiver of fear run through my chest. And below deck the piteous bawling of the remaining goats. By Ra and Osiris we were a strange band indeed and our journey, if we had but known, was about to become stranger still as we journeyed ever further into the unknown.

  * * *

  (Here endeth the tenth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, at the house of Agymah and Eti, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Paser again grinds the ink. Pamu watches over him.)

  Part XI – A Great Storm

  (Here is written the eleventh night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, at the house of Agymah and Eti, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox.)

  So where is that layabout Imhotep? In this last month we have written no more than seven nights and already he has fallen by the way. From a rotten tooth no less. How many times have we told him that his love of ba’k’lava will both rot his teeth and fatten his belly? When I was young, if we suffered an ache of the jaw, it was but a quick trip to the temple, the priest would rub a dark ointment upon the wound, then quickly tear out the offending tooth. In truth it was hurtful, but the ointment, which was made from the poppy flower and applied generously by the priest, had magical properties. I remember that it was always a day or two before the ache returned. It seems that young people now have little stamina. It is not like it was when I was a boy.

  Of course, that sounds very much like the words my father spoke when I was younger. Perhaps that is another truth of nature, that the elders will forever think the young are lazy. And, of course, the young will forever think the elders confused in their thinking, for the things that matter most, and most clearly, to a man of my years, have but little part in the thinking of my children. This I have learned over a long life. But again I ramble and I see the beady eye of my daughter, fastened upon me like a limpet to the side of a ship. And so I return to my journal and the story of our journey to the distant reaches of the world, through strange lands where dwelt strange beasts, across a frozen ocean where we were sometimes followed by the monsters of the deep, until we came to the land of Gond. At least it pleased us to believe that it was the land of Gond, for by the time we had arrived there all were so hungry and malnourished that I believe that all would have perished if but another moon had passed. There is only so much fish a man can eat. Except perhaps Isesi, who was the smallest of all those that travelled on our ship, but who seemed always to have the largest appetite.

  On the morning of the storm I awoke early and climbed to the main deck. It was now greater than four score of days at sea since we had passed through the Pillars of Hercules. As I climbed the stairs I felt the danger in the air. The sky was dark with foreboding and there was little mist, though the cold wind found its way through my leathers with an icy finger. The clouds hung low above our masts, and water rolled beneath us black with menace. And I saw that the ship moved differently in the sea and I knew then that this was why I had awoken early. Even the Beasts were restless. On most mornings the Beasts would sleep, huddled together at the rear of their cages, seeking some warmth from the bodies of their brethren. But on this morning they paced the floors of their cages, their heads low, their red eyes hooded. Even the young ones were awake.

  On the rear deck I saw Naguib and Omar the Centurion talking. Their faces were dark with worry and twice I saw Omar look to the horizon at our rear. Even the Nubians on the tiller arm looked fearful. I spoke with Minkaf and he gave to me a hot broth, made of the meat of the Ran, and seasoned with salt. Carrying the gourd carefully I climbed to the rear deck to join Naguib and Omar. When I joined them at the stern where they stood looking back to the horizon, I saw the cause of their worry. The horizon behind us was lost in the rain and black clouds of the coming storm. As I watched I saw the clouds flicker and flash with lightning and I felt the air shimmering with danger. The waves rolled beneath us, short and sharp, unlike the long rolling swells of the northern waters. The storm was coming upon us, as fast as a desert sand storm, and I could see the white caps of the waves as they disappeared in the rain and cloud.

  Naguib rang the large bell that was positioned next to the stairs to the rear deck, calling all the men from their beds. I drank my broth quickly and ran to join them. We all knew our tasks and worked quickly to secure the cages and lock down all barrels, cabinets and ropes. At Naguib’s request we pulled tight the sail on our middle mast, reducing it greatly in size. Then we hauled the forward sail tight, also reducing it in size. Naguib had told us that this was best, that he did not require much sail to guide the ship when the wind was strong. Then we crouched along the rail, holding tight to the ropes as the storm blew down upon us.

  Far off on our port side we could see the dark cliffs of land, a strange flat topped mountain with its top shrouded in mist and cloud. For a moment I believed we might be able to sail to safety beneath those cliffs but when I looked back and saw the speed of the storm I knew it would not be. The storm came at us like the Djinns of the desert, the Gods urging their dark steeds forward with whips of lightning, their roars like thunder cracking across our backs. I saw lightning twisting around the tops of our masts and I heard the two Omars call out in fear. Next to me crouched Minkaf and Isesi but Naguib and Omar the Centurion remained on the rear deck with Mushariff. I saw that they had lashed themselves to the tiller but that all the Nubians had fled and now crouched against the far rail, their eyes rolling white with fear against their dark skins.

  The ship began to heave and roll more sharply and the wind began to howl. In the final moments before the storm struck I heard Naguib shouting. Then a roaring darkness fell upon us, icy rain and wind tore at our bodies and I felt our ship roll as if struck by a mighty fist, the timbers screaming and shattering, ropes breaking from their wooden pegs and cracking hard across the deck like the whips of the ox herders, the howls of the Nubians joining those of the miserable goats. Even the mighty Beasts screamed. As our ship fought to right itself the wind took the sails and I felt our ship surge through the water. While Naguib screamed at us in the roaring wind we ran to secure those things that had broken loose. Minkaf’s kitchen was in ruin. Two vats had come loose and, being of bronze and thus of some weight, had rolled across the deck, destroying cabinets and snapping ropes and barrels. The ship rolled beneath us as we fought to secure the deck, icy water washing through the gaps in the rails and swirling thick with foam to our waists. I held tight to every rope as I worked for I did not wish to wash overboard in this terrible sea.

  The day was now dark as night, our only light that of the lighting flashes that came one upon the other. The water that swirled around our legs and waists was so black and cold that it took the heat from our bodies in but a moment and, as I worked with my comrades, I felt the icy water in my boots, my feet frozen, my body shaking with the cold. But we did not know that this was only the beginning, that this icy water and freezing wind was nothing, for what was to come was to test us to the limit of our endurance and courage. I felt the stern rise as the wind rose to a howl. In a last flash of lighting I looked to the rear deck and I saw Naguib, his face to the heavens, his mouth open in a soundless scream. And I saw that behind him came the horsemen of the Gods of the underworld, their steeds as black as the bowels of hell.
And the clouds boiled down upon us and the sea raged. And for forty days we knew no rest from fear or terror.

  * * *

  Of the next forty days I will say little. For it was a time of such hardship and misery that I do not wish to recall it. But I know I must tell at least a little of that time, for we saw such things that we never dreamed of, things that were so strange and so terrible that even now, when I recall them, I fall to the floor and pray to Osiris, mother of the Sun. For we did not see the sun for forty days. Nay, even longer. When the storm struck us near the Mountain of the Flat Cloud, a darkness came upon us such that we feared we had crossed to the underworld. A darkness so deep, and so peopled with strange visions, that we could not believe we were in the realm of men. It is for this reason that I must speak of it.

  The storm carried us east for many days, the seas black and lashed with foam, the water roaring icy across our decks and freezing our feet inside our leather boots. The wind was filled with spray and sometimes beads of ice that rattled on the deck and the sails and gathered in white piles against the cabinets and in the kitchen. It was a miserable time and we suffered terribly. The mighty Beasts lay at the back of their cages, silent and crowded together for warmth, their hides pale and white. Only their eyes remained alive, burning in the darkness of the night and the gloom of the days with the brightness of a ruby. I watched them many times for I knew now that a strong intelligence lived there.