Lion of the Sands

by Robert Sullivan

  I thought of my comrades, of Dadsoul, strong and thin, yet only boy when he leapt into the waters near the Pillars of Hercules; of Moeses, strong of brow and sharp of eye, who left us while searching for food on the coast of Maroc; of Mashane, who vanished into the river of pitch, taken by the terrible demon; of my good friend Nabob, a happy man and good of heart, who fell at the hand of Protokei; of Hequaib, and his comrades, Protos, Temsi and Protokei, and how their greed had cost them so dearly; of my Nubian companion Douwwi, a kind and gentle man, and of Pasine, small but strong of heart, who perished for the darkness in Isesi’s soul. And of Isesi, the toad, who lay below on the second deck of our ship, his wounds cleaned and bound, water at his side, his head resting on soft cloth. Good men had died that he might live. I shook my head and looked to the rear deck. Naguib stood at the tiller arm, one hand to his chin, his eyes dark, his mouth hard. I knew that we would speak of this in the days to come, and that Naguib’s judgment would show little mercy.

  I again muttered a small prayer to the Gods and kissed my amulet. So many days and nights of frozen hell and screaming winds, of hunger and cold and thirst, of fear so thick in my throat that I believed I would choke and die. So much ice. So many storms. And so many lost. And where to now? Did Naguib know our path home? I looked again to the rear deck, where Naguib and Omar stood beside the remaining Nubians. Could they lead us back to our homeland? Like my comrades I had not seen my family for such a long time. Ten moons had passed across the heavens and I had not seen their faces. Or heard their voices. I prayed to Taweret for their health and comfort. I wished to see my parents again, and my brothers. Though their taunts and jokes sometimes hurt me, I wished that I was with them at this time. It is a truth of nature that no matter how dark the heart, still a man will seek for his family. For his true core is set upon this rock. And it will ever be.

  And so, as the wind blows across our shoulders and fills our sails, as the blue waters roll beneath our mighty ship, as my comrades and I stand at the railing and look to the far horizons, I wonder what will come. How far must we travel? How long must we wait until we see again our loved ones and the shores of our homeland? What perils must we face? For surely if our journey to Gond was filled with such hardship, how could our journey home not also be cursed with danger and fear, with strange lands and even stranger beings? And of course it was. But that is another story, and one that I will tell at another time. For now, I go to visit Nedemeb.

  * * *

  (Here endeth the final night of words of the first book of the journal of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Agymah has gone again to visit his friend Nedemeb and has been joined by his son Pamu, and by his brothers, Djosur and Khanefer. Imhotep also has joined them. I have asked that he carry two goatskins of wine and many sweetbreads for they are many, and Habibah should not be burdened with such gluttons. Imhotep has said that my gift is to be revealed this night. We will see.)

  Now all that read this scroll, perhaps many years hence, will see what I have seen. That my father’s words might sometimes seem confused; that he is forgetful of names, of places and of times; and that much of his story remains yet untold. Forgive my father these small transgressions, for he has seen many years. All will become clear as his tale unfolds. Agymah’s journey has just begun.

  Khuyb, daughter of Agymah and Eti

  Scribed at my father’s house