“More than these pack animals,” she said.
“All right,” said Misha. Then, turning to the guards, she added, “Help me lift the princess. And bring me two camels.”
Around them, the royal soldiers were losing ground. Only a handful of the front guard and the rear guard remained, too far from the center group to be able to defend themselves adequately. They were falling one after the other, by the sword, arrows, or crushed by the dogs’ jaws. The core soldiers would not be able to resist longer.
One of the guards brought Misha two camels, still relatively calm. They lifted Pa-Heb on top of one, Ookami climbing behind him. Soromeh’s unconscious body was placed in front of the nomad, who hid her under the folds of her long tunic.
Misha hid a bit of white linen dress that was still visible. Before letting go, she breathed in and swallowed back a wave of grief.
“Swear to me that you will do everything to keep her safe,” she said to the nomad.
“I swear on my life,” she answered.
Misha nodded and reluctantly let go of the princess’s dress. She climbed on the third camel that was waiting, kneeling, and turned to the other two riders.
“Be ready to flee.”
She kicked with her heel, and her mount slowly rose up. Misha removed her outer tunic and her veil. Her colored dress and the jewels in her hair shone under the desert sun. An order was shouted, then repeated, amongst their attackers, and the arrows ceased instantly.
“Captain!” shouted Misha above the noise. “Tell your man to lower their weapons. I wish to negotiate.”
The captain glanced at Misha and nodded. He yelled the order, and both sides stopped the fight. A tense silence fell all around.
“We leave you the offerings if you allow us to leave!” said Misha with a clear voice.
“No,” answered one of them. “We keep everything.”
“If I surrender, will you let my men and my servants go?”
“We keep the gold, the animals, the slaves. The soldiers die.”
“Then let my injured men go, and I’ll get you double what you would get for my ransom.”
“Triple!” shouted another.
“Triple, then. I am the daughter of the king. My life is worth more than all the gold you can imagine.”
“All right. The injured can go.”
Misha heard the two camels start running. She had to quiet her first instinct, which was to never let Soromeh leave her sight.
Chapter 3
He Who Walks With Death
Anubis grit his teeth and tried to stop his tears. He was sitting in a corner of the Pharaoh’s chambers, invisible to the mortals moving around. The king dictated his last will with whatever breath he had left, his words sometimes cut by whines of pain.
“Die!” yelled Anubis. “Stop hanging on and die!”
The jackal felt his lungs being crushed. He couldn’t breathe. The bones of his legs ground together. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes.
On the bed, the king was suffering the same fate. He coughed up blood but kept giving orders to the Master Scribe, who noted them frantically. The Head Physician begged the king to keep his strength.
“My… children…” panted the king.
“You chased them off, your Majesty,” said the Master Scribe, kindly. “You already spoke to Prince Sethy and Princess Kamilah. I can call them back, if you wish.”
“...Soro…”
He started coughing violently. Anubis, further away, felt blood in his throat and started coughing too. The jackal lay on his side, whining in pain.
“Die,” he whispered. “No one wants you. Not even your children are at your bedside. Die!”
“Pamiu!” snapped the physician. “Are you seriously filling the documentation of his death?”
“Her Highness Kamilah wants to approve it before the Council gets their hands on it,” muttered the scribe without lifting his head from the papyrus. “I need to hurry before any of them get in my way.”
“The king still breathes!”
“You’re the one who said he wouldn’t survive this day! What am I supposed to do, oppose Her Majesty the Princess? I know she gave you orders, too.”
“I need to find an acceptable cause of death,” admitted the Physician, dabbing the king’s brow with a wet cloth. “I don’t get all this scheming. It’s simpler to keep track of the truth.”
“We both know it wasn’t an accident,” said Pamiu with a somber tone. “Despite all the love I have for the truth, Her Majesty Kamilah is right. A king cannot kill himself. At least, not in the official records.”
“Ha!” snapped Anubis, unheard from the mortals. “He should have stabbed himself instead of jumping from the terrace. He would have spared us both the agony.”
He suddenly felt an indescribable amount of pain at his throat. He started to shake. It was the feeling of an arrow piercing his neck.
Somewhere in Egypt, a human was dying in the exact same way.
He felt another arrow land on his hip and another in his arm. One got his lower back and paralysed his legs. A blade cut his stomach open.
Anubis curled into a ball on the hard marble, feeling the echo of every single death. The humans in the room kept working without even noticing his existence.
Then, after an eternity, the pain retreated. He stayed down, shaking, trying to get his breath back. The short fur of his face was wet with tears. Slowly, he regained awareness of his real body. Unhurt. Immortal.
He slowly got back on his feet. The Physician was trying to reanimate the king. The Scribe was finishing his notes.
A silver human shape stood next to the bed. The soul was wearing the royal crown.
Anubis told the soul to follow and wobbled to the balcony, to finally rest on the balustrade. Directly under them were the wide stone stairs of the palace’s back entrance. An enormous palm tree in a pot had been placed over the bloodstain the king had left when he hit the ground.
“You could have picked a quicker death,” he grumbled to the soul. “A higher fall would have snapped your head clean, without the need to lay in agony for days. You could have spared us both a lot of pain.”
The Pharaoh’s soul looked at him in silence.
“If you’d have been faster, we’d already be at your Trial, but you took too long. There’s been a massacre, south from here. You’ll have to follow me.”
He took the king’s hand and transported them both to the desert. They were surrounded by the remains of a carnage. Most bodies were wearing soldiers’ uniforms and servants’ tunics. Other men were busy gathering the spilled offerings, remaining camels, and surviving slaves. Ferocious dogs were devouring the carcass of a camel and were fighting for the best pieces. The souls waited in silence.
Voices caught Anubis’ attention. Three men were fighting. One of them held something at the end of his extended arm, shaking it to mark his yells. Anubis saw that it was the head of a young woman, grabbed by the hair.
“Put it in the bag!” snapped another man. “We were all hired for this job. We’re all going to get paid the same!”
“It was my dogs that scattered them! You two split the offerings, and I’ll bring back the head of the princess!”
“No way!” shouted the third one. “Many of my men died for this head. I want my share of the reward!”
They kept fighting and profaning the young woman’s body. Anubis looked around. He found her soul near the battleground.
She was looking far away, to the north.
“Come,” said Anubis. “It’s time for your Trial.”
The souls followed him in silence. The young woman’s was last, never taking her eyes off the north.
* * *
Soromeh regained consciousness and immediately regretted it. A slicing pain had taken over the side of her head. She opened her eyes and quickly snapped them shut, due to the blinding afternoon light. She felt joggled from side to side and realized she’d been thrown, belly first, on a camel’s saddle.
She jolted upright, full of indignation.
“Careful!” snapped a voice behind her. “Stop moving!”
An arm tried to restrain her. Soromeh struck with an elbow, got free, let herself fall from the camel, tripped, and found herself sitting on the sand, her dress and hair disheveled.
She stood and took on the imposing figure of the nomad woman and her mount. A bit further away was another camel, its rider wearing the royal family colors. She recognized the new soldier, Ookami, and the unconscious man in front of him was the chief of her close guard, Pa-Heb. She suddenly remembered the attack.
“Where am I?” she yelled. “Where’s the rest of my convoy? Where’s—where’s Misha?”
“We had to flee, your highness,” said Ookami with difficulty.
“Where is Misha?” she repeated, her voice trembling.
“Lady Misha stayed to negotiate with the bandits. It allowed us to flee and save you.”
“You left her there? Alone?”
“There are many soldiers with her.”
Soromeh grabbed her skirts and started running on the footprints they left in the sand. She couldn’t see anything, but the high dunes could easily hide her troops.
A camel caught up to her and stopped in her way. The nomad climbed down and faced her. Soromeh stepped back, scared. From afar, she hadn’t seen her angular face, eagle nose, and fierce eyes.
“Get back on the camel,” ordered the nomad. “We have a long way to go if we want to reach the palace before nightfall.”
“No, we’re going back!” shouted Soromeh. “Misha, my men, and my servants are still over there!”
“Your life is worth more than theirs. We cannot risk you.”
“My life alone isn’t worth more than all my troops! I have to go back and negotiate their freedom—I have to get Misha!
“Absolutely not. Get back on the saddle.”
“I am the daughter of a king!” yelled Soromeh. “And you dare oppose me? Who even are you?”
“I am Naími, and I’m the one who’s bringing you back to the palace. Get back on.”
“No! We’re tracing our steps to retrieve Misha! It’s an order!”
The nomad remained immovable. Soromeh, furious, turned to her guards. Ookami had brought his camel closer and was looking at them both with worry.
“She’s right, your highness. We can’t turn around. We covered a lot of ground. We would be caught by the night before reaching them.”
“So we’ll travel by night! Each moment places them in greater danger!”
“Don’t you see that your men are hurt?” snapped the nomad.
Ookami lowered his head in shame.
“I am glad to see you better, your highness, but Pa-Heb is still unconscious. I fear he may be hurt more than we can see from the outside. As for myself… I was shot in the hip. I can’t walk.”
“We need to go,” said the nomad. “We still have time to reach the city, if we hurry. Princess, get on.”
Soromeh, upon realizing she wouldn’t be able to go back to Misha, felt a sudden rush of panic.
“No! We have to go back—we have to find her!”
“How much longer are we going to discuss this?” asked the nomad.
“Give her time, Naími,” said the soldier. “Your majesty, I promise you we will send the troops—”
Soromeh grabbed her skirts and ran, her sandals sinking in the sand. The nomad caught her in two strides and grabbed her around the waist.
“You idiot!” yelled the nomad. “There’s only death waiting for you in that direction!”
Soromeh yelled and fought back. Naími carried her to the camel.
“How dare you treat the princess in such a way?” yelled Ookami.
“Would you prefer I leave her in the desert?" snapped back Naími, trying to keep her arms around Soromeh. “I’ll treat her with more respect when she’s back safe and sound inside the palace walls!”
Soromeh bit her. Naími let out a pained yelp but didn’t let her go. She placed the princess’s back to her and blocked her arms. Soromeh started kicking.
“Is there a way to calm this lunatic?” yelled Naími over Soromeh’s howling.
“I don’t know. When her majesty is angry, the orders are to let her alone until she calms down.”
“We don’t have that luxury right now,” she groaned and got an elbow to the face. “We have to get moving.”
She stretched a hand to grab a long rope tied to her camel’s saddle. Soromeh took the chance to hit her in the stomach. Naími lost her breath but didn’t slacken her grip. She tied up the princess. Soromeh’s yelling doubled in intensity.
Naími threw her face-down on the camel. She tied the princess's feet to the saddle to stop her from kicking. Ookami was staring at her in horror.
“We have to bring her back alive, and that’s more important than the protocol,” snapped Naími. “Let’s go.”
“At least place the veil back on her head, so the sun doesn’t burn her skin,” muttered Ookami.
Naími frowned and walked to the other side of the mount, to face the still-yelling princess. She awkwardly placed the veil over her shoulders and head. Soromeh bit her again, drawing blood.
Naími got back on the saddle and started their journey back without saying a word.
Soromeh yelled until she ran out of breath. Then she cried until she ran out of tears.
* * *
Anubis was nervous. He counted and recounted the souls aligned in front of him, his fingers tapping their numbers on his hips.
“There’s a soul missing,” he mumbled.
“Speak to be heard or remain silent,” snapped a voice.
Thoth, the ibis-headed god, went back to his long roll of papyrus. He called the souls by name, made them climb on a massive golden scale, weighed their sins, and figured out their destination.
The cavern they were in was full of souls waiting in silence for their judgment. Anubis looked down at them, counting under his breath. Thoth snapped his beak with impatience.
“If you can’t remain calm, you can leave. I don’t need you for the rest of the procedures.”
“I need to witness the king’s trial,” he said, pointing to the soul wearing a crown.
“All mortals are equals in death,” said Thoth. “His heart will be weighted like any other heart.”
He went back to the list and called another name.
“Misha, daughter of Meriptah, her father, and Keren, her mother.”
The young woman’s soul stepped forward, shyly. Thoth looked at her for a moment, then reread her name with more attention.
“But sometimes, very rarely, a soul doesn’t have to be weighted. Behold, Anubis, the strength of a mortal who gave her life to save another’s.”
Thoth made her walk pass the scales and directed her to an opening in the rocky wall. The long corridor led to great golden double doors.
The Netcheroos watched her from afar. The doors opened for her, letting out a light that shone warmer than the summer sun. The soul walked on, her silvery shape getting lost in the brightness. The doors closed.
The Netcheroos took a moment to gather their bearings.
“You don’t have to stay if you have other things to do,” said Thoth. “I can take care of the king’s trial.”
Anubis, feeling an indescribable itch in his mystical powers, ended up agreeing. He left Thoth to his work and exited the cavern of the dead to go back to the site of the massacre, in the desert. The attackers had left with the offerings, and the sand remained covered in corpses. Anubis counted them again and again. Everything fit.
He transformed into a massive black jackal and ran through the desert, following his instinct. He jumped from hill to hill without making a sound, without moving a single grain of sand, until he reached the capital of Egypt.
He went through the surrounding fields and entered the city itself through the maze of the poorer neighborhoods. The streets were emptying for the evening. Merchants, workers,
and travelers looked for places to spend the night. Anubis took a side street and found humans arguing.
“I told you not to untie her!” snapped a woman while pulling a camel by the reins.
“We couldn’t enter the city with the king’s daughter all tied up like a lamb!” answered the soldier riding the second camel. “She seemed calmer!”
“If her other guards are as competent as you, I’m astonished she’s still alive!” shouted the woman. “Stay with Pa-Heb. I’ll bring the princess back.”
She handed him the reins and disappeared into a narrow street. Anubis followed her, certain he had found the origin of his weird feeling. They ran from alley to alley until they reached a dead end between two houses. The woman suddenly turned, holding a dagger.
“Why are you following me?” she asked in a cold voice.
Anubis froze. He transformed into his usual form, a man with the head of a jackal. The woman stepped back.
“I’m a human. You’re not allowed to hurt me,” she blurted out immediately.
“You can see me, and you know our rules,” noted Anubis, stepping closer. “You seem human, but… there’s something hidden, something I can’t read…”
“Step back, Netcheroo!” she spat.
Anubis stopped.
“Only angels pronounce our name like this,” he said, slowly. “As if the sound burned their tongues.”
Naími tried to hide her reaction, but Anubis could see her fear. He made another step, trapping her against the wall, and looked into her eyes.
“Your words say angel, but your eyes are human. You’re afraid, you don’t want to die. I can feel the passage of time in your veins. I can feel the terror caused by the knowledge that someday, death will come for you too… How are you doing this? If you hadn’t betrayed yourself, I would have never guessed—Oh, I’m so dumb. You got incarnated!”
The Celestial Conspiracies Page 4
