by D.A. Dean
Chapter 8: The Watcher
Horus' arms and legs twitched restlessly. His mind raced. How had he transformed? Had it been Seht's voice he'd heard? Well, who else's could it have been?
Enough thinking. He needed rest. He concentrating on the rhythm of Teo's and Nalia's breathing, but still he couldn't sleep. "Mother?" he whispered, and the wind swept to him. "I wish I could talk with you."
"Then come to me," Isis answered.
Horus slid from under Nalia's arm and sat. "How?"
"Don't ask questions to which you already know the answers. Stop pretending you're other than who you are. You're wasting time." Isis' energy receded.
Horus sucked a breath. What had happened? Why had her her voice and words been so harsh?
Frustrated and confused, he drummed his fingers against his cheeks, jumped up, and strode off toward the palms.
He latched on to a palm's rough tan trunk, pressing his fingers, scratching them, and climbed, up and up, to its top. He could see all across the shore, could see to the ivory cliffs of the land the island had neared. He stared at the stars and felt them staring back.
How had he gotten to the House of Ra? Isis had said only he was "ready." Not particularly helpful. Still, maybe like Nalia she chose her words with great care. Maybe she'd given him a clue. Though why not just tell him? Why make him discover the answer? He shook his head. Ready. That implied he'd reached the House of Ra of his own power rather than someone else's.
The wind shifted, flicking fronds over his knee. Absently, he scratched it. His mother could transport, moving between realms and among places on Earth. Could he? Perhaps if he concentrated, imagining where he wanted to go, he'd be able to visit again the home of the gods.
But visualizing couldn't be the key. He'd never seen before arriving within it the room he'd found himself inside. He sighed.
The stars slid toward the horizon, the sun lifting. The answers he sought continued to elude him.
He frowned. Isis was right. He was wasting time.
Horus scurried down and slipped, the palm's cane catching his thigh. Wincing, he dropped the last few feet and started back to the circle.
Teo lowered the spear he was sharpening and turned to him. "About time. Where'd you go?"
Horus shrugged. "For a walk."
"Long walk." Teo crossed his arms.
"This was the first time you didn't follow me." Horus rubbed his nose, hiding his smile, and sat. "Guess that means you think I can take care of myself now, huh?"
"You shouldn't be surprised. I'd appreciate being told, though, at least for a while more." Staring at Horus' injured thigh, Teo fastened his hands over his knees.
Horus lowered his leg. "It's fine. And I'm ready to go train."
"You're getting a real stubborn streak."
"Then you have proof I'm learning from you," Horus rejoined, testily.
"Oh-ho!" Teo lifted his brows and grinned. "Someone's getting cross. Alright, alright," he said, raising his hands. "Though I do have concerns. The wound looks deep, but it's hardly bleeding."
Horus angled to stare at the puncture. "In battle, I'd have to continue even if I were hurt."
Teo shot him a sidelong look and replied, "You just thought of that."
"Doesn't make it any less valid."
Teo lifted his brows. He patted his knees and stood. "Grab the empty water-skins." He walked to the hut and knocked before entering. Only a few moments passed before he and Nalia exited.
Nalia said, "Horus, if you can, find some pomegranates. Then use those broad shoulders and carry back a sack full."
"A whole sack?" Horus asked doubtfully.
"Right," Teo said, gave Nalia a nod, and pulled at Horus' elbow, "let's go."
They waved goodbye to Nalia and wound their way to and through the marsh and out the other side to the grasses, where Teo increased his pace.
Glad of having something to do and pleased Teo was allowing him to tag along, Horus studied the variation in the grasses' green, noting the black-green where the shadow collected near the ground, the vibrant green of the arch at the middle of the blades, the pale green at their tips.
Sunlight laid itself in bouncing dapples among the shadow and appeared in swaths across the grasses' waves, making more intense the white of the fresh-faced flowers peeking in and out of the undulations. Horus stretched his arms behind him, arching his back, filling his lungs, and surveyed the sky. Against its backdrop of clear, brilliant blue, the sun danced.
On they moved to a low hill, on to the trees.
"I had no idea all this was on the island," Horus murmured.
A nearby tamarisk bent its branches as if in introduction.
"It's beautiful," Horus said and ran to the tree. He touched its narrow, feather-like leaves, soft and prickly, and then stepped back, puzzling at the faint traces of white on his fingers. A scent, strong and sweet, reminding him of the taste of honey, floated toward him from a stand of acacia a short way ahead.
"Come to me."
Horus started. Who'd spoken? He glanced at Teo, but he seemed not to have heard. He peered into the shadows among the acacia but saw no one. A falcon had spoken to him. Could a tree speak? Again, he scanned.
Near the center of the stand, one acacia stood alone, dark bark gleaming, contrasting the pale green of its leaves. "Come. Let me know you."
Such a resonate voice. "Yes," Horus answered silently and moved to the stand's father tree. "Hello." On impulse, he stretched his arms up its thick trunk. Warmth spread through him. On his lips was the taste of honey.
"Child of Ra," the acacia silently spoke. "You hold great mysteries, as do I. We are kindred, Child of Light. My offspring call to you. Go now and hear their glory."
A branch caught Horus' shoulder and spun him into the center of the circle.
Horus looked around in wonder. How radiant these trees were, their leaves' vibrancy unlike anything he remembered. And there was a sound.... He pricked his ears. Yes, each tree had a different vibration, in a different key. Together, they formed a perfect harmony.
"Hush, now, children, he must go to water."
Horus bowed low, grateful for the encounter. He returned, smiling, to Teo's side, and they passed beyond.
The grasses thinned. At the lake's edge, black earth fanned over a wavy shelf of grey rock. Horus traced his gaze across the lake's expanse, its placid surface so different from the ocean's ever-changing face, to the dense grasses, sweeping willows, and thickly-leaved ished trees of the far shore then back. "I like this lake. Are we going to swim?"
"Not here." Teo stepped a pace away, took up a small, oval rock, and skipped it.
Horus stared, fingers stretched wide. "The ripples," he said, hushed. They formed perfect circles inside perfect circles. Was it magic?
Teo chuckled. "Thought that might intrigue you. Want to try?"
Horus held out both hands.
Teo pushed them down. "Practice first."
Horus focused, imitating Teo's slow-motion movements.
Teo handed him a stone. "It might take a few—" he stopped, Horus' first attempt sending up a plume of water, and wiped his face. "Your palm should stay sideways. And don't use so much force." He offered him another stone.
Horus slung it. It skidded once and sank with a deep thunk. He reached for another.
"You're trying too hard. Just let it happen."
Too focused to speak, Horus gave a nod. He brought his hand to his chest and cast his arm forward, creating a semi-circle before straightening his arm and flicking his wrist. The stone brushed the tips of his fingers and sailed from his hand. He held his breath.
Layers of circles appeared and radiated out over the lake's surface with each of the stone's light touches. Reaching the end of its trajectory, the stone slipped beneath the water's surface.
Horus leapt into the air and whooped. The birds that had been bobbling toward him burst into fli
ght, wings flapping loudly. He whooped again and trotted back and forth along the shore. "Give me another."
Teo held his hands, empty, in front of Horus' chest. "Still a long way to go. Come on."
"No. I want to do it again."
"No?" Shaking his head, Teo lifted the water-skins and with even paces walked away.
Horus bent closer to the water and sent his focus down to a palm-sized oval stone, grey and glistening. He spread his hand, palm down, over the water. The stone popped up into his hand. "Huh," he exclaimed. Well, that could be a useful skill. If he could later figure out how he'd called that ability forth.
He held a moment, enjoying the anticipation, and then cast the stone. He watched, rapt, the stone dropping, lifting, dropping in long arcs, ripples again forming and expanding across the water's surface.
Laughing with delight, he skipped off to catch Teo.
Teo turned and studied him. They walked on in silence.
"Hey, Teo. How'd you get to be a warrior so young?"
"Started early."
Horus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got that."
"Mother had a dream when I was seven, not long after Father died. I started training then." Teo strode a few more paces and entered the reeds around the jag in the lake. "Come on."
Horus waded into the mass of brown-green stalks.
Teo added, "We have to be careful through here. Stay close behind me."
"It's dangerous, you mean?" Horus chewed his lips, eyes scanning, ears pricked. "What's that rumbling noise?"
"Quiet and pay attention."
They moved forward, the high reeds pressing around them, choking out the light. The sound, like waves crashing against the shore at high tide, grew louder.
The reeds thinned. Sunlight reappeared. After a few more steps, they emerged.
Before them rose a tower of jagged stone, water coursing over it in torrents. Mist surrounded its top, fingered across its sides, and spilled out toward them.
Moisture beading over his skin, Horus pushed his hair, sopping wet, from his eyes, covered his ears against the waterfall's thunderous roar, and looked around in wonder. Blues of every hue mixed with deep greens and earthy browns. Light glinted off the water and was fragmented by mist, creating waves of color, adding red, orange, yellow, and violet to the interplay.
Invigorated by the energy of the water's rushing, Horus inhaled deeply. He coughed.
"Humid here," Teo said loudly and nodded. Then, glancing behind, he pulled Horus forward, farther away from the threats of the marsh. "This is where we train," he shouted. "We could gather water down here. But it tastes better from near the top." Smiling, he flashed his brows.
The tiny, uneven lines of the waterfall's apex wavered through the mounting billows of mist.
"You're kidding," Horus yelled. "From up there?"
"Not from the main coursing. That'd be foolish. There's a smaller trailing of water as it breaks near that jut, there," Teo said, pointing to the left a short way down from the waterfall's crest. "You can climb up from the lake or ascend the rise and go down from the top. Or," he said and cocked his head for emphasis, "you could improvise."
"You're crazy." Staring in disbelief at the waterfall, Horus shook his head. "How'd you get there, to that jut?"
"Fell. That's where I caught myself," Teo said and pointed to a narrow ledge. "I hung on for a while, made it into the recess, there, took in a few handfuls of water, and then pushed off as hard as I could and hoped this part of the lake was deep enough." He slung a water-skin across Horus' chest. "Your body has changed. You need to know what you can do with it. Your abilities are beginning to manifest. You need to build them. And."
Alternating his stare between the apex and his friend, Horus waited. "And?"
"You need to learn to believe in yourself." Teo spun Horus around and gave him a shove forward.
"Believe," Horus muttered, glancing over his shoulder. No, Teo was right. Horus advanced toward the fall. Gaining a better view of the churning water, he clenched his jaw.
Climb up from the lake. He surveyed the rocks, huge and menacing, at the fall's base. Nope.
Go down from the top. The rise rolled upward in green mounds. Better.
Or improvise. Well, nothing occurred to him.
Teo leaned to him and said, "Don't forget, we were getting low on water. Not much left for Mother." He moved off and bent as if to study the deep-green flora.
Recalling the moments in the marsh when he'd experienced the ache of thirst, Horus licked the water clinging to his lips. No, Nalia wasn't thirsty. He and Teo had left her with three full water-skins. Teo'd just said if for effect. Hadn't he?
Horus called irritably, "Thanks for not adding any more pressure." Besides, Nalia knew how to ration water.
But she shouldn't have to.
Horus gave a hard nod and sprinted, up and up, staring at the grasses' blurring black spots. The rise continued to stretch out ahead of him. Its damp soil sucking at his feet, his legs began to burn, his wound to throb.
What if something happened while he and Teo were gone, something dangerous that caused Nalia to require more water?
Panting and grimacing, Horus wiped the sweat trailing into his eyes and increased speed.
Finally, the ground began to level. He longed to flop down onto his back and gulp air, to wrap his leg in leaves and sleep. Instead, he tore on till he neared the riverbank, where he was forced to slow. Clutching his sides, he picked his way through a tangle of thin-edged sweet grasses. Surprised by the barbs of a stiff, purple-striped clump, he narrowed his eyes. The river coursed before him.
Standing on its rocky black-brown bank, he gazed at the river's shifting shades of blue, lighter and tinged with green where it eddied near the bank, deeper and capped with small white crests near its center. He inhaled. Unlike the refreshing tang of the sea and the sharp pungency of the marsh, the river's scent was deceptively mellow. On he went, working his way along the straight stretch of river to the waterfall.
There. Horus fastened his gaze to the point where the mist obscured the water's tumult. His stomach fluttered.
A contorted, ancient-looking sycamore flanked the spot where the water dropped. He inched along its gnarled roots. Clinging to its trunk, he tried to see down through the mist but lost footing, his heart lurching, and fell onto his knee. Arms out, torso arched, he lifted himself up and back, took a breath, and peered down at the crashing water.
Was this where Teo fell?
Horus leaned back against the tree and rubbed his face. The task Teo had assigned was impossible.
No, not impossible, ridiculous. Horus shook his head in frustration then pursed his lips. Teo wouldn't have given an order he didn't believe Horus could fulfill.
Ah. Near a descending wall of stone, a jagged rock jutted from the apex of the fall, splitting its current. Staring at the water-worn rock, determined to meet Teo's expectations, Horus formed his plan. He grabbed a branch, pulled himself back, and, scanning river and rock, he scrambled along the river's edge, away from the fall.
Here. He filled his lungs—"uuuh"—plunged into the river, and paddled with the rushing water.
Nearing his objective, the rock, water crashing across and around it, Horus pushed down his fear. In order for his plan to work, he needed to get closer to the fall's tip.
Now. He fastened his fingers into a large crag in the rock, and his body whipped around to the side of the stone, striking it hard. Muscles burning, fingers bleeding, he swung against the current and stretched, reaching to get a grip with his other hand. Against the turbulent current, he forced his legs forward and braced.
There, just to the left, was where he needed to go. Holding position with one hand, he extended the other and fastened his fingertips into a cranny in the wall of stone supporting the side of the fall.
Arms stretched taut, the fierce current's buffeting making it impossible to draw a
breath, he counted to three and released the river rock. Securing a foothold with his uninjured leg, he wrapped himself against the stone wall.
Air. Lifting his head into a shifting break in the water, Horus attempted to draw a breath. He coughed hard, his fingers slipping. Head pounding, he pressed his fingertips deeper into the cranny and, further exerting his injured leg, leaned forward to a steadier break.
His thigh's aching shifted his attention. Tightening into the cranny the fingers of his left hand, he gingerly touched his thigh with his right. Something was protruding from his wound. He glanced down. Wood from the palm. Working its way out. Teo had been right. The wound was bad.
Horus closed his hand around the splintering palm cane and, grimacing, tugged it free. Still wincing, he rolled within his hand what he'd dislodged. The cane was the length of his middle finger and as big around. Frowning, he released the cane, his gaze following its descent. "Mmph," he sputtered, overcome by a wave of dizziness.
Horus' fingers twitched, his hold slipping. Dizziness passing, he managed another breath, descended the first few holds through a break in the waterfall's coursing, and paused. Beside him, the coursing again became intense. Too intense. He quickly surveyed. There was no other path to where Teo had pointed, the recess. Horus would have to find some way to climb back to the top of the waterfall, a daunting idea, and start over. Unless he caught water where he was. Surely, what he'd done already was good enough. Besides, his leg, bleeding freely, had started to go numb.
In battle, I'd have to continue even if I were hurt. Gritting his teeth, Horus stretched to the next hold into the surging water. The torrent, hard and biting as the serrated stone he held, closed him in brutal grey nothingness. His leg began to falter.
Grey gradually brightened to blue. The water parted. He caught a breath and slid through the easy stream veiling the recess.
The stone opened into a high, half circle, condensation clinging to its sides, its walls seeming almost to breathe. The recess' white-veined blue-grey stone transformed into gold-streaked azure blue.
Horus rubbed his eyes, still stinging from the water's barrage.
A sonorous voice emerged from the depths of the stone, "My offering to you, Horus, Child of Sky."
Horus spun, searching for the speaker. There was no one. Like falcon and tree, could stone talk? He responded, "You know my name. Do you have one?"
"I am Ka-Shen, a Watcher, placed here at the beginning of this world. I have seen you before. Hear my words. The forces that seek your destruction fear your light. You are responsible for the Shift. Know your purpose. Fulfill your destiny." The recess' stone shifted back to grey.
"A Watcher? The Shift?"
There were only the sounds of the waterfall.
The being, it seemed, was gone.
Or had Horus simply imagined the encounter? The waterfall had subjected him to quite a beating.
Lips pulled to the side, he gazed down at the lake's basin, where, kneeling in the shallow, Teo submerged the water-skins.
An ibis veered near, startling Horus, then ascended.
Or you could improvise. Shaking his head, Horus laughed. Flight. Of course.
Still, if he'd used that ability, he wouldn't have learned what his own body could do. And now, having pushed his endurance and wiser for the experience, it was time to finish with this lesson. He sidled out onto the recess' ledge, and, gripping its stone with one hand, he slipped forward into the easy stream his water-skin. After sealing and securing it, he stood, leaned forward, and dived.
The air, rushing past, stung his skin, raw and bleeding from the torrent's assault. The basin of the lake, sunlight sparkling across its calm surface, seemed to expand, filling his gaze.
He hit the surface, the force against his tightly pressed hands causing his outstretched arms to buckle, elbows bending, breaking his taut line.
The basin's water, so welcoming from above, closed viciously around him.
Waves of shock swept through his muscles. Water filled his nostrils and slipped down the back of his throat. Deeper, he plummeted, the basin's water clouding, light fading, till there was nothing but swirling blackness.
* * * * *
