Spell Bound (A Fairy Retelling #3)

by Dorian Tsukioka

  “Yes, my lord,” Nehi answers, and the high priest walks away, the perplexing conversation now completed.

  He motions to Aniya and she follows him to the door. “I need to take the girl to the marketplace. We will need an escort,” he says to the men guarding the door.

  Two of the heavily-muscled guards step forward. They are both tall and formidable. One of the guard reaches to the wall behind him and pulls off a set of interconnected, metal rings. Shackles. For slaves.

  Aniya’s eyes sting hot as the guard bends down and secures them around her ankles but she holds her head up high and promises herself to walk out of the palace with as much poise and grace as she can muster under the circumstances.

  The other guard lifts another set of shackles from the wall. Are they going to bind my hands as well? Fine. Let them bind me.

  Aniya’s eyes grow round as she watches the guard bend down, set, and lock the metal loops around Nehi’s ankles.

  “Lead the way, slaves,” the guard says.

  FOUR

  “You’re a slave?” Aniya asks in a whisper after the door closes behind them.

  “I’m not a slave,” Nehi says, not bothering to lower his voice. “I’m just treated that way.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought you were training to be a priest. Why would you be treated as a slave?”

  “Because I tried to run, and Rahotep has other plans for me.”

  “You tried to run away?”

  Nehi nods. “Come on, we need to get your tools,” he says and leads them away from the palace and toward the market.

  Aniya jogs a few steps to keep pace with Nehi’s long legs and nearly trips into him. The shackles don’t allow for a stride long enough to move very quickly. “Why did you run away?” she asks.

  Nehi says nothing. Even his expression is closed.

  “I’m sorry,” Aniya says. “It’s none of my business. Obviously you don’t want to talk about it. I’ll stop bothering you about it.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “I can’t. More than just my ankles are bound. I don’t know why they even bother with these shackles anyway. One word from Rahotep and I have to…” Nehi stops talking, his face contorts into a frown. “Look, I hardly know you and you’re right. I really don’t feel like talking about this now.”

  Aniya closes her mouth and walks beside him in silence, wondering at Nehi’s enigmatic words.

  They pause only for a moment when a royal procession makes its way through the city streets and they are pressed to the side of the road. The citizens of Waset fall on the ground and bow as Pharaoh’s wives are carried through the streets toward the river Nile. Aniya gets a quick glance of the queens as they pass by. One is tall, slender and very beautiful. Aniya would recognize her instantly, not just for the queen’s striking appearance, but also for the queen’s richly ornate crown covered in deep blue lapis lazuli gemstones that signify her as Nefertiti, the first wife of Pharaoh, known to all of Egypt as the Great Royal Wife. The queen sits tall and proud as her eyes slide over the crowded street while Kiya, the second wife, lounges back uninterested on the settee as she’s carried on the shoulders of the royal guard.

  “Is it true that Pharaoh is looking for a third wife?” Aniya asks Nehi as the procession moves along and they’re able to start walking again.

  “Where did you hear that?” he asks.

  “Everywhere.”

  “Secrets don’t stay secret in Waset, do they?” he notes.

  “Well, not a secret as juicy as the king searching for a new wife. People are saying he is desperate to have a son.”

  “Is that what people say?” he says, his mouth tilting in a grin. “I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to speculate on rumors that certainly don’t seem to be any of your business.”

  “Fine. Keep your secrets then,” Aniya says.

  “I’m trying to, but you seem very intent on finding them out.”

  It isn’t long before they arrive at the marketplace. Throngs of people idle slowly down the streets, testing wares and haggling for the best prices with shopkeepers. The tantalizing scent of fried bread rounds and roasting camel meat fills the air, mixing with the strong odor of fish brought in from the early morning catch. Entertainers vie for the most lucrative spots to play their flutes and stringed kanuns, eager for passerby’s to drop a gift of appreciation on their blankets as they shop.

  “Over here.” Aniya leads the way to where the weavers pitch their tents. Woven baskets, mats and skillfully detailed decorations lay about for purchasers for inspect. Aniya says a quick “good morning” to the women sitting cross legged on the ground and is greeted with silent nods from the weavers she has known most of her life. Their greeting is less enthusiastic than normal, and Aniya notes the cautious glances the weavers give to the huge guards accompanying her.

  “What can we do for you, Aniya?” one of the women finally asks her. Aniya notices the woman’s eyes travel down her body to the shackles bound to her ankles.

  “Tools,” her voice squeaks out higher than normal. She clears her throat with a quick cough. “I’m in need of an extra set. Do you happen to have any on hand today?”

  The weaver’s eyes meet hers once again. “You’re in luck. My husband just finished several new sets last night.” The woman pulls out a small cloth bundle and unrolls it.

  “These are beautiful,” Aniya says as she picks up a sharp pointed awl and cradles it in her hands. She lifts another tool, flat and oblong with a hole cut inside, along with a reed lying on the ground. With quick, deft movements she pokes a hole in the stem of the stalk with the awl then places the end of the reed through the oblong tool twisting and bending the plant to her will. Within a few moments Aniya transforms the reed into a woven ring.

  “I’ll take these,” she says. The woman raises an eyebrow. Aniya has chosen the best and most expensive of the tools, but the woman says nothing.

  Aniya turns to Nehi. “I have nothing to trade for these. How will I pay for them?”

  Nehi waves her off and addresses the woman directly. “My master, Lord Rahotep the High Priest to Pharaoh and Vizier of all Egypt, thanks you for your generous offering to the pharaoh’s servant.”

  “Offering?” Aniya says, her voice rising. “I didn’t know you were going to cheat someone out of their fair payment.”

  Nehi glares at her momentarily but continues on, “In gratitude for your generous gift, a thanks offering will be sent to you from the palace. You can expect it to arrive sometime this afternoon.”

  Aniya bites her lip, realizing her mistake. Of course, it would better for the woman to be seen as if she was offering the expensive tools as a gift instead of trading them for payment. Obviously Nehi already was well versed in proper trading etiquette, while Aniya was not.

  “Thank you,” the woman says and bows down before them in respect. “May the gods...the one god, Aten, shine down on you and bless you,” she adds as Nehi leads the small group away.

  Aniya tucks the tools into her linen belt and keeps her steps behind Nehi’s, still embarrassed by her own remarks at the weavers’ tent.

  “You have a really big mouth,” Nehi says as he comes to a stop at the edge of the marketplace. “And you have a tendency to open your big mouth about things you don’t understand.”

  Aniya’s cheeks flare up with heat. He’s right, and she knows it, but it’s quite another thing to be told so to her face. She swallows back the anger rising in her throat and nods. Her eyes remain fixed on the ground as she speaks.

  “You’re right,” Aniya agrees. “I speak too quickly about things I don’t comprehend.” She lifts her gaze to meet Nehi’s. “Now you know all my hidden secrets. Care to share some of yours?”

  A small grin breaks on Nehi’s face. “I doubt that anyone who has ever met you would consider that a secret. And no, I don’t care to share mine. They wouldn’t be secret then, wouldn’t they?”

 
Aniya takes a deep breath as the weight of her indiscretion rolls off her shoulders.

  “Where to now, mistress weaver?” Nehi asks. “Just where are these elusive reeds located that you assured me I could not find on my own?”

  “Next to the Nile of course,” Aniya answers and leads him and the two guards away from the market and toward the river. They walk to a bank where sandy grassland gives way to papyrus reeds and cattails jutting from the ground like sentinels guarding the river.

  Nehi watches as Aniya slips off her straw sandals, latches them together, and sets them them around her neck. Though the sandals are not nearly as costly as his own leather ones, they’re woven in a beautiful, intricate pattern and look as if they will last a great deal longer than his own.

  “Are those your handiwork?” He nods to the shoes dangling around her neck when she looks up at him.

  “My mother’s,” she answers. “Now, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to make yourself useful and help me?”

  Nehi grins and takes his own sandals off, copying Aniya’s movement.

  “You don’t happen to have a knife, do you?” she asks him, bending over a young, green papyrus shoot.

  Nehi asks for a knife from one of the guards and hands it to Aniya. Gracefully, she slips it between the tender stalk and her fingers and with a quick flick of her wrist, the shoot is cut at a perfect angle.

  “Can I try?” Nehi asks.

  “Be my guest,” Aniya hands him back the knife and gives him a wry smile.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It can’t be that hard,” he says, bending over. He copies Aniya’s movements, but the papyrus doesn’t cut. The outer skin of the plant shaves off in his hand. He tries again, shaving off more of the plant, still not making a clean cut. In frustration, he saws at the plant and finally breaks it free. With jagged bits hanging off, and most of the skin peeled away, he holds it out to Aniya. “See? It’s not as hard as it looks.”

  Aniya takes the reed from his hand and tosses it into the river.

  “Perhaps you could make yourself more useful by holding these since I don’t have a basket to carry them in.” She hands him the flawless, trimmed papyrus that she cut. “Thanks, basket boy.”

  Before long, Aniya cuts an armload of papyrus reeds for Nehi to hold.

  “There, that should do it,” she says. “Go stand over by the guards while I gather these last few bits closer to the river. They’re more difficult to reach.”

  Aniya carefully chooses her steps over the flooded bank and bends down to cut a perfect, plump shoot jutting out close to the river water. Water bubbles just on top of the surface of the water and she freezes. From the corner of her eye she sees Nehi step next to her.

  “Stop moving!” she whispers.

  Nehi halts next to her.

  “Gods of Egypt! I thought I told you to stay back by the guards. What are you doing?”

  Aniya keeps her eyes on the bubbles in the water. They’re popping on the surface just a few strides away from where she is crouching.

  “I came to help you,” Nehi whispers back. “What’s the matter?”

  “The matter is that there is a crocodile just under the water in front of us, and if you come any closer we’re going to end up being its lunch.”

  Nehi becomes even more still. “Are you certain?”

  “Would you like to take the chance that I’m wrong?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then, I’m certain. When I say go, take slow, careful steps backward. If you see anything move -- run.”

  Nehi nods slowly, and takes a slow, measured step backward. Aniya gingerly steps backward with him. The water stirs, and a snout peaks out of the water. The shackles on Nehi's ankles catch on the river weeds as he backs away and in a flourish of arms and legs, Nehi trips and falls down. The sudden movement spurs the crocodile, and it lunges out of the water. Aniya screams and grabs ahold of Nehi, dragging him with her. The crocodile is fast, but is too far away to catch them in its initial attack. It pushes its body back into the river and submerges while Nehi and Aniya run to the safety of the guards who are bent over double with laughter.

  Nehi puts his hands on his thighs and tries to catch his breath. Aniya punches him in the shoulder.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  “I told you to stay over by the guards! That’s for not listening to me. You almost got us killed.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Tell you what, the next time we go cut papyrus reeds together, I’ll make sure to bring you a basket, and I’ll stay far up on the road. That way you can get eaten by a crocodile all on your own. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds good to me, basket boy, since you dropped all the cuttings on the ground anyway.”

  Nehi looks down. A trail of cut papyrus reeds litters the path. Nehi groans and begins picking them up.

  FIVE

  “I’ll have some lunch brought to you, ” Nehi says as the guard opens Aniya’s prison door.

  “And all the items I requested, too?”

  “Yes, all the items you requested to start weaving.”

  Nehi sets the armload of papyrus reeds on the floor and turns to face Aniya. “I will come check on you later. I have some duties to attend to now, but I’ll make sure that you have everything you need and are taken care of.”

  “Thank you. I hope it won’t take too long to work off my father’s debt so I can go home. I miss my family. Besides, my brothers and sisters need me. They can’t really depend on my father to take care of them very well. I need to get home.”

  “I understand. Well then, I’ll leave you to your work.”

  Nehi doesn’t miss the hurt on Aniya’s face as the door closes between them. He knows his words were short and brusque, but he needed to get out of there quickly, before she saw. He walks up the narrow hallway and pulls the golden basket from behind his back. He needs to get it hidden before his master sees it. If Rahotep knew that Aniya could channel magic, he’d fill her with so much of it she’d be dead by morning.

  Thinking of his master’s deeds makes his stomach turn. He hated watching what Rahotep did to the unfortunate souls who became vessels to satisfy the high priest’s lust for power. Nehi had seen it only a few times, but the memory of those few occasions was enough to haunt his dreams and every waking moment.

  Rahotep had no mercy. He filled the vessels with so much magic their bodies burned up from the sheer force of the power inside them. As they burned, Rahotep siphoned it out, spinning the magic into spells and potions that he could later use to impress Pharaoh. By the time he was done, only ashes remained to show the vessels were ever there.

  That could be me.

  Nehi’s thoughts return to the present when he reaches his quarters. He hides the basket as well as he can underneath his bedding. Although his stomach rolls with fear and loathing for the high priest, he nonetheless must return to his work as the priest’s apprentice. His magic is all gone and Rahotep will call for him to again be filled with magic when the sun goes down. Until then, he has duties to carry out and Nehi must get to them quickly or face the wrath of the high priest.

  The last of the sun’s rays bathe the temple of Aten in a glow of crimson as Nehi makes his way through the entrance and deep into the heart of the sacred house.

  “Where have you been?” Rahotep accosts him as soon as he enters. “Sunset is nearly here. The ceremony needs to take place in just moments.”

  “Yes, Master. My humblest apologies,” Nehi answers, his eyes kept to the ground.

  “It’s the One God, to whom your apologies will need to be directed if you waste any more time. The One God does not wait for a mere priest’s apprentice to unleash his powers.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Take your position then.”

  Nehi crosses to the center of the sacred room. He’s been here before, many times even, but the details of what will happen have left him. He rememb
ers watching others. He remembers being in this room, but after that is darkness.

  No one beside the high priest and his vessels have ever seen this room hidden deep within the temple’s caves. Besides him, I’m the only living soul who knows about this place. He kicks away remaining ashes littering the floor. The previous vessel filled with so much magic she burned alive from the inside out. She was just a lowly servant girl of the palace. No family to miss her. At least, as far as he knew. No one came asking about her once she was gone. Even the palace staff she worked with barely seemed to notice that she disappeared. Will this be my ending when Rahotep decides he’s done with me?

  “Quickly now! Make the sacrifice,” Rahotep yells at him from the entrance.

  Next to Nehi stands a shallow bowl on a pedestal. Beside it is a knife. Nehi takes it in his hand and winces as he cuts the flesh of his palm, letting the blood drip into the bowl. The last rays of daylight make their way through a hole cut into the wall in the shape of a snake. The light shines on Nehi’s hand, illuminating his blood in red light.

  Rahotep’s deep voice fills the chamber as he begins to chant the words that bring forth the magic. Nehi clutches his hand to his chest. The pain is great, though he instinctively knows there is even greater pain to come.

  All around the room, hieroglyphs of the ancient gods shine and spark to life. They move. Dance. No, they’re being shaken, as if the ground beneath them trembles. Nehi knows he’s seen this before, but his mind is a blank. Beneath the gods a giant snake uncoils and slithers through through the pictures. Nehi watches in horror as the snake bursts up and devours the gods. They try to run from the great snake, but he catches every one. When the last of the gods has been taken, the snake turns its face to Nehi and opens its massive jaws.

  Nehi tries to ready himself, but the onslaught of power still catches him off guard. Waves of magic flood over him from every direction, filling, drowning, burning. Nehi’s back arches. He tries to close his eyes to the pain, but he can not even do this. The seam that keeps the waking world of the living safe from the burning world of magic has ripped open around him and courses through him. Unseen fire burns throughout every cell of his being, and he knows that in a moment he will be entirely consumed. His ears no longer hear the high priest’s chants. There is only the roaring onslaught of the magic. Maybe it would be easier to just let it take him completely. Let it wash over him once and for all. Bring him to ashes.