Andre Norton - Shadow Hawk

by Andre Norton

  "It is not so easy. I am under a cloud because I have come from Nubia—which is now frankly a rebel state. I would not be allowed near any of the Royal Ones. And"—he turned again, his face bleak—"how do we know who or how many of those in the army are true to Pharaoh?"

  "Nereb?" hazarded Rahotep. This aspect of his task had not occurred to him before, and inwardly he berated himself for not having foreseen it.

  "He is with Pharaoh. But perhaps through Sa-Nekluft something may be done. Those I would trust with my life are all out of Thebes tonight."

  "By purpose?"

  "It might well be so. Be sure, Rahotep, I will do all that it is possible for a man to do to warn our lord. But it is in my mind that they may have hedged him about with their own men so that no whisper can reach his ears."

  "Then there is left only one other thing. Where lies this Valley of the Lizard?"

  "What is in your mind?"

  "I still command ten archers—eleven with Kheti—who are the best of all the army. We have most of the night and all the day before us in which to act. Maybe when Pharaoh is attacked, he will find his guard has doubled!"

  But Methen was shaking his head. "I do not think anyone on foot could reach there in time. Our lord is already out of Thebes—to appear at the Temple of the Waters. He will not return to the city but will cut directly across country to join the army. And he goes by chariot as does his guard. You cannot use the road the army is traveling, for you would be quickly discovered. To circle through the wild lands will add to the distance you must travel. It cannot be done."

  "Nevertheless," returned Rahotep, "we shall attempt it. And if you cannot reach Pharaoh, try to get the ear of the Prince Ahmose. Now show me where lies this Valley of the Lizard and how one may reach it from Thebes."

  With a pattern of lines traced in wine on a scrap of linen tucked within his belt, Rahotep left the barracks. Methen had insisted upon accompanying him back through the gates, and one other stalked behind them, although they discovered him too late.

  Bis was determined not to be parted from Rahotep now that he had found him again. And when Methen would have picked the cub up to carry him back, the leopard gave such a display of royal anger that for fear of a scuffle they were forced to let him pad along in the captain's wake.

  By dawn the Scouts were well into the fringes of the desert lands, and Rahotep drove himself as hard as he did them. If it were humanly possible, under Amon-Re's will, that they reach the Valley of the Lizard, then it would be no fault of theirs if they did not. What they could accomplish there, the captain had only the vaguest ideas as yet. Could they discover and pick off those who lay in ambush before the arrival of the royal party, they would indeed be favored by fortune. But at least they could add to Pharaoh's defenders and so retrieve in part their past disgrace and failure.

  In spite of their best efforts, Re's path across the sky was too swift. Knowing that he dared not reach the valley with his men in a state too exhausted to pull a bow cord, himself dizzy with sun and weakness, the captain was forced to grant periodic rests, laying himself flat upon the ground, striving to relax each taut muscle of mind and body, while Bis curled against his side as if, should he stray, he would lose all touch with Rahotep again. Today the cub had suffered Kheti to carry him when he tired, though at ordinary times he did not like the Nubian to handle him.

  "Let that one shed his milk teeth," Kheti observed, "and grow to full strength, and you will have a battle-mate second to none! He will follow you to the horizon, for he has set you in place as his lord—and among the cat people that is rare."

  Rahotep assented absently. His mind raced ahead, trying to foresee and plan against this difficulty and that. He had utter confidence in his own men. Let them only reach the battlefield in time, and he did not believe that any company in ambush could stand against them. It was only a matter of hours—

  Long since they had learned, by bitter experience, the best method of travel through waterless wastes. Though they had left Thebes with a full waterskin for each man, that supply was strictly limited. And they had not been able to lie up in the hottest portions of the day.

  Therefore they faced as best they could the force of the sun, as they marched through rocky defiles between the cliffs —cliffs streaked and cracked—detouring around slides of gravel, clay, and boulders. Cliffs and rocks alike threw off a quivering haze of pure heat, which burned a hand laid unwarily on a surface to steady climbing feet. Their only relief was to follow the scanty line of shade up one of the cliff walls where they could find footing.

  Time and time again Rahotep made a sriffer climb to a height from which he could view the countryside and then refer to the rough map Methen had drawn for him. And he was too tired and beaten to exult when he at last identified a landmark and understood that they were not too distant from their goal.

  Because of the coming floods, the large encampment of the royal forces had been moved from the level fields back into the high lands where the waters did not reach. It was the Pharaoh's plan to march north during the first weeks of the flooding, when the chariot legions of the Hyksos would be prevented from assembling on the plain, which they needed for their most effective charges.

  Neferusi, the garrison town held by the invaders, was the agreed-upon objective of the first Egyptian drive. It had been amply fortified after the regulation Hyksos fashion, and for over a century it had been a center for the oppressors' government in middle Egypt.

  Thereabouts, all native opposition to the foreign rulers had been crushed generations earlier, and very few men would rally to any invading Egyptian force from the south. The Hyksos would undoubtedly sweep the land bare of supplies and anything that would aid the rebels, and the spearhead attack from Thebes, if it failed, could well be the last—as well as the first—stroke in Sekenenre's war for the liberation of his country.

  But all that the best military minds in royal service could foresee had been prepared, and the army awaited now only the order to march. If Pharaoh reached his camp unharmed tonight, they would move forward. If he died—as his opponents were determined—the whole delicate structure of the revolt might topple, as clay walls toppled before the push of the flooding river, reducing both his house and his nation once more to a sullen vassalage, with all the patient work to be done again.

  The Royal Heir could be prevented from early moves to hold things together by the bonds of mourning custom— which advisers such as Zau and Tothotep would certainly hold him to, making him a prisoner of his kingship until it was far too late to proceed with the invasion of the enemy-held territory this season. And if Kamose proved no tool for their use, he in turn would be swept away. It was all so very easy to do once Sekenenre was removed to his horizon! Rahotep could foresee all this as clearly as if he were a temple seer watching coming events in the bowl of Anubis.

  "Lord!" Hori had reached the cliff top before him this time. "There are chariots coming!"

  The captain did not disdain catching the hand the other lowered to him, using the archer's aid to gain a better vantage point. Hori was right—a column of dust rolled yellow-white from swiftly turning wheels and churning hoofs, a small squadron of chariots. No, even fewer than that, for Rahotep could count only five in that line. They had been forced into single file by the nature of the country, and the one at the head was distinguished by the two horses, as well as by the standard, of Pharaoh.

  Between the Scouts and that advancing line was a stretch of broken country, which turned Rahotep sick with the knowledge that only the wings of Horus Himself could transport them across it in time. But they had to try.

  At the risk of bad falls the Scouts advanced at a scrambling run. But they were yet far from the lip of the valley's rim when they heard confused shouting, which could only mark the launching of an ambush. A band of hot pain griped Rahotep's lower ribs as he struggled on, falling behind his men in spite of his best efforts. He saw Kheti reach the rim of the cliff, set arrow to bow cord almost before he ha
lted, and let fly down into the gulf.

  Then the captain made a supreme effort and came to a sliding stop beside his Leader of Ten.

  Below them was a melee of horses and men. Those who lay in ambush had been too eager, or else their prey had become suspicious, for the royal party was not far into the valley. Lucky shots, however, had brought down both horses of Pharaoh's chariot. And to avoid trampling into that stalled vehicle, the following one had turned to one side, locking wheels with the wreck and effectively bottling the whole passage. But the worst was that some inexpert management on the part of at least one driver at the other end of the line had ended in a second smashup, so that the ambushed were now caught between two stoppers and imprisoned—to be picked off at leisure.

  From the heights Rahotep and his men could see those who had set the trap, at least those in concealment on their side of the valley. There were archers among them as the shafts pin- cushioning the dead horses below testified. But slingers, expert with their deadly balls, were at work now, and Rahotep saw three of the penned guard go down under the skull-breaking shots of good marksmen.

  Sekenenre, his blue war helmet-crown protecting him from that rain of death, had leaped to the platform of one of the stalled chariots and from that point was directing the resistance. But how could men fight back against well-concealed enemies stationed above? Shields were up now at the command—forming a roof of sorts. But too many had fallen at the first attack.

  One of the long Nubian war arrows sang through the air, and a slinger arose to his tiptoes, as might a man diving into a pool, before his body went limp across a rock.

  "Pick your marks!" Automatically Rahotep gave battle orders. "Loose at will!"

  There was an angry shout from across the valley. A slingshot bullet struck a foot below their perch as the enemy posted opposite sighted the Scouts. But now the odds were swinging in favor of the Nubians.

  "Five!" chanted Kheti. "Five notches for our shafts, Lord."

  They might be able to fire on those who lurked on their side of the valley. But the ones in hiding on the other cliff were almost as well protected from them as they were from the tormented men trapped below. And though five and then six bodies marked the success of the archers' aim, those in the ambush were still in peril, for the others continued to fight grimly to wipe out the royal party.

  Only four or five of the guards and officers who had accompanied the Pharaoh were still on their feet about the chariot where Sekenenre stood. Their useless bows had been discarded; they held axes and maces and the shields, which afforded them a small measure of protection.

  The call of one of those war horns Rahotep had heard among the Hyksos at the horse camp blared in their ears. Kheti shot, and a figure perched on the heights crumpled in mid-note. But whatever his signal, it brought to a desperate action the struggle below.

  Men arose from behind rocks, from the shelter of stunted brush, and dashed downslope toward the beleaguered party. The Nubian bowmen did what they could, but even a supreme marksman could not have brought all those runners to earth before they reached their goal.

  They leaped in upon the small group of Egyptians while Rahotep and half his force went into their own attack, covered by the other Scouts. The slope on this side was less steep, and they reached the choked road only a moment or two behind the enemy.

  A bearded man in the body armor of a Hyksos thrust at Rahotep with a spear, and the captain lithely swerved, getting in under the other's guard by stooping almost to ground level and coming up breast to breast. His dagger bit home low and deep, and the other, with a strange look of bewilderment, staggered back and was gone.

  "Aaaahhh—" The fierce, throat-rasping battle cry of the Nubians rose above the general clamor, and Rahotep caught a glimpse of Mereruka swinging a slinger up over his head to dash him earthwards with crushing force.

  The rage of battle was on them all, and the captain did not really think clearly again until some chance brought him up hard against the wheel of an overturned chariot so that he clung there for support and looked about him dazedly.

  The small shield wall of the surviving guardsmen was still up, but he could not see the blue helmet of their leader. Mahu sat against a rock while Kakaw wrapped a strip torn from a kilt about a bleeding cut on his forearm. There were dead men aplenty. And Kheti was superintending the binding of some half-conscious prisoners.

  Rahotep stood away from his wheel and moved toward the shields of the guards. Before he reached that improvised fortress, he heard the terrible keening of the warriors. And he knew with a sick certainty that they had failed. Pharaoh had departed to his horizon.

  It was hard to recognize the Lord Nereb in the battered figure with a face that was a mask of blood and dust. The young officer sat on the ground supporting Sekenenre in his arms. At Rahotep's feet lay the blue crown. And he needed only a glance at the horrible wounds on the Pharaoh's jaw and head to know that there was no hope at all. No one could have survived such blows.

  "Sorrow! Sorrow! Our lord has departed!" A spearman of the royal escort scooped up the bloodstained earth beneath his feet and rubbed it across his face. But Nereb looked across the broken body he cradled to Rahotep. There was no surprise in the measuring stare with which he greeted the captain. It might almost have been that he expected to find the outlawed Nubians there. And for one bleak moment Rahotep wondered if this treachery was also to be laid to them.

  "You arrived opportunely, Captain," he said. "We might have had much to thank you for—"

  Rahotep brushed his hands across his eyes, trying to wipe away the fog that seemed to come between him and the meaning of the other's words. He strove vainly to climb out of some well of fatigue. This crushing failure, added to all his other misfortunes of the past few days, was too great to bear.

  "We strove to prevent this, Lord. It seems we came too late."

  "What man could foresee such blackness of treason? We had won the battle cleanly before we lost our lord. It was treason and not lack of valor which—which brought this about."

  "How knew you that?" the captain asked, for those in the ambush were Hyksos by dress and arms and he had had no chance to tell his tale.

  "Look you there!" Nereb did not shift his gentle hold on the dead Pharaoh, but he pointed with his chin to a spot behind the chariot from which Sekenenre had commanded Iris beleaguered force.

  His feet leaden with exhaustion, Rahotep wavered over. Two bodies lay there. The under one was that of an officer with the special insignia of a guardsman—Nakh-hof. And the dagger protruding from his armpit was Egyptian. In his hand was still held a bloodstained mace, while across his knees sprawled his companion in death, one who wore a jackal mask such as the one Rahotep had found in the storeroom of the temple.

  Steadying himself with a hold on the chariot, Rahotep stooped low enough to seize upon one of the upright ears of that strange headdress, tugging it from the head of the assassin. He had seen the man who had worn it before. It was that silent scribe who had sat behind Tothotep's stool during the meeting of the traitors he had spied upon in the Temple of Anubis!

  "Did these lull—?" he began slowly.

  "Nakh-hof struck the first blow—he who was supposed to protect our lord with his own shield. May Osiris judge him fittingly! And the priest struck twice more while I was busy sending the first traitor to his final accounting with Re! Had it not been that this crocodile spawn turned against him, the Son of Re was safe. Your Nubians were clearing the field and the victory was ours. I do not know from whence you came, Captain, or what good fortune brought you so to our aid. But almost did you give life to Egypt, and that you failed was no fault of yours or of those you lead."

  "Lord!" Intef of the archers came running, and in his hand he held what seemed to be a mass of fur or hair. "We did not fight Hyksos alone. Look you!" He waved the disgusting handful of fibers under his captain's nose while Rahotep surveyed it blankly, having no idea of its purpose. Then Intef, in his excitement, so far forgot himsel
f as to pull his officer away from the little circle about the Pharaoh and point to one of the tumbled bodies of the attackers. He went down on his heels and thrust the stuff he held against the slack chin of the dead man to form one of those curled beards so strange to Egyptian eyes.

  "Thus it was, Lord, until Bis pulled it away. See, the black one seeks the same elsewhere—"

  Bis was crouched half across the chest of one of the captives who had been tied up at Kheti's orders. The cub was snarling while the man he sat upon watched with terrified eyes. Bis's ready claws tangled in the wealth of hair upon the prisoner's face and tugged. The stuff came free to reveal very Egyptian features. Egyptians disguised as Hyksos! Had the Nubians not taken a hand in this venture, the Pharaoh's death would have been listed as an act of war and the power of the enemy so made manifest to all the fainthearted. It was a plan that might have been born in the devious brain of Set!

  "Hoy!" From the heights came a call from a Scout. He gestured eastward, making the sign for troops approaching. But a second later he added to it the up-pointed finger, which signified that it was a body of their own men, doubtless from the camp.