The Tekhen of Anuket

by Aiki Flinthart

  Seeing him hesitate, the High Priest laughed aloud and cast his spell again. Half a dozen more priests clambered to their feet and shuffled forward. With a dismissive gesture of his hand, the golden-masked priest turned and began to walk away, leaving his minions to deal with his enemy. It was now or never.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Phoenix changed his grip on Blódbál and hefted it to his shoulder. The undead swayed closer, blades glinting. Four steps away. Taking careful aim, he threw the blade like a spear, putting all his improbably high strength behind it. Three steps away. The sword sailed through the air, straight between the undead priests. Being dead, none of them had quick enough reactions to catch it or step in front of it this time. Two steps away; swords descended toward Phoenix’s unprotected head. Blódbál flew unerringly toward its target. Its magic field sliced neatly through the Priests’ shield without even a purple-blue flicker.

  Perhaps sensing a disturbance in his shield, the High Priest of Set spun around – just in time for Blódbál to embed itself up to the hilt in his chest.

  For a moment, the man stared blankly at Phoenix through the eyeslits of his golden mask. Then he looked down at his own body and saw the sword. He coughed once before his legs crumpled and he collapsed to the ground without a sound. The gold mask fell away from his face, revealing a very ordinary-looking, bald-headed older man. His dark eyes stared up at the ceiling. Blood dribbled out of his mouth.

  Their power gone, the animated dead dropped to the ground in pathetic little heaps of black cloth, their weapons clattering on the stone floor.

  Letting out a gusty sigh of relief, Phoenix walked up and nudged the body of the High Priest with his toe before withdrawing Blódbál and wiping the blade on the monk’s black robe. He picked up the mask and turned it over. Just like the furniture in the vizier’s stolen treasury, it was fake: gilded wood. Disgusted, he tossed it down.

  Looking around, Phoenix discovered the room had emptied. The rioters must have decided two explosions in one riot were more than they had bargained for and run away. All that remained were the dead bodies of priests littering the floor, along with great lumps of stone. He had no idea why the furnace had blown but he was pretty sure Jade must have had something to do with it. Or maybe Heron.

  Speaking of which…..

  There was no sign of his companions in the room or up on the balcony. A moment’s thought told him they had probably gone to try and destroy the tekhen of Set, as they were supposed to. He decided the obelisk would most likely be somewhere outside the west wall of this room.

  A woman screamed. Jade’s voice. It was not a yell of triumph but a shriek of fear and pain. Clutching his sword, Phoenix’s first instinct was to rush to the rescue. His second was to sneak. He ignored Blódbál’s urgings and went with his second. A few swift steps brought him to a shadowed exit in the west wall. Crouching down, he peered around the corner then drew quickly back. What he saw made him glad he’d ignored his sword.

  The small garden courtyard outside was dominated by the towering obelisk of Set. It also swarmed with Roman soldiers. At the base of the obelisk, Marcus, Jade and Heron were all being held prisoner. Phoenix peeked again, confirming his worst fears.

  Not far from his friends, looking faintly pleased with himself, stood their worst enemy: Zhudai. On a bench nearby reclined a fat Roman wearing a stained, purple-edged toga. He appeared discontented. A soldier approached him and bowed, addressing him as ‘my lord Priscus’. Phoenix grimaced. What the heck was the Proconsul of Egypt doing here in the middle of the night?

  He sighed and leaned against the wall with his head thrown back. Now he somehow had to rescue the others, as well as get that stupid obelisk knocked down. When would this end? Take one badguy down and two more popped up to replace him.

  That gave him an idea. He hurried back to where the High Priest lay. With quick glances at the door, he stripped the priest of his robe and snatched up the discarded golden mask. Donning the robe, he tied the mask strings and pulled the cowl up to hide his hair. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice the bloody slice in the cloth. Blódbál went up one long sleeve.

  He began to pace toward the door, trying to look appropriately solemn and evil. Eight Roman soldiers appeared. They stopped, apparently aghast at the carnage. Noticing Phoenix, they hurried forward.

  “My lord,” the lead soldier said, “the Proconsul and his advisors await you outside. We have captured the intruders.”

  He bowed and hoped his wild heartbeat wasn’t as loud as it sounded. He was about to deliberately walk into the hands of his enemies; alone.

  In the courtyard, his courage almost failed him. There were even more soldiers now. Then sight of his friends standing helpless in the hands of the Romans renewed his determination. If he could get close enough to Jade, he might be able to make this work after all.

  The soldier led him up to Priscus, who raised a weary eyebrow at him. Phoenix bowed deeply but said nothing, hoping that the High Priest was normally as silent as they’d seen him. Priscus didn’t seem bothered. He waved a fat hand at the prisoners.

  “We caught your intruders for you, Anhotep. I am so sorry we couldn’t get here earlier, though. The streets were awash with dirty rioters. They seemed to be quite annoyed with you. I’m sorry we couldn’t save more of your followers. You have lost quite a few, haven’t you?”

  Phoenix inclined his head without speaking. His lack of reaction seemed to irritate Priscus.

  “I understand you didn’t even get to finish your little ceremony?” the Proconsul continued, inspecting his nails. “Well, you’re welcome to take another prisoner to replace the boy. It’s the least we can do. Go ahead and pick one. The others we’ll execute or send as slaves to the Games in Rome.”

  Phoenix bowed again, struggling against the overwhelming urge to stick Blódbál between the fat Roman’s ribs right now. That would be a very short term gain, indeed. He was here to free his friends and destroy the obelisk. Priscus wasn’t important.

  Priscus pursed his small mouth and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. He heaved himself to his feet and turned a plump shoulder.

  “This is boring. I’ve been dragged here in the middle of the night for no very good reason I can see. Zhudai, just execute these troublemakers or send them to Rome for the Emperor’s Games and get it over with. I’m going home.” He waddled away toward the exit, followed by three fawning servants.

  Slightly taken aback, Phoenix decided that constituted a dismissal and followed the soldier over to where Zhudai conferred in quiet tones with one of the Roman generals. They seemed to be arguing. Interesting.

  As he approached, they broke off and turned to face him. He bowed again, slightly shallower this time. He didn’t miss the flare of anger in Zhudai’s narrow eyes, nor the fleeting expression of disgust in the Roman general’s. So, there was a lack of unity in the camp, was there? The Roman and Zhudai obviously didn’t like the High Priest and there was a good chance the feeling was mutual – which meant Phoenix didn’t have to wait for orders or instructions.

  With an effort, he turned his back on his enemies and walked toward his friends. Jade raised her chin and glared defiantly back at him. Marcus’ gaze was as unwavering as usual. Heron just shrugged.

  “Take me then. I’m old. Let the young ones live.”

  Phoenix stepped up to Jade and waved the soldiers back a little. They glanced at Zhudai before moving.

  “It’s me,” he whispered. To her credit, she managed to keep her reaction down to a slight widening of the eyes and a quick flicker of a glance at Zhudai.

  “Give me the Bag,” he instructed. He moved so he now blocked Zhudai’s view of her. Quickly, she slid the bag from under her shirt, into his waiting hand.

  “Be ready to shield.”

  She nodded slightly and cast her eyes down as though frightened. He stepped up to Marcus and looked him up and down. The Roman stared stoically past him. As Phoenix moved past, he murmured, “Protect Jade.” Marcus di
dn’t even twitch.

  Phoenix nodded to Heron and waved a soldier over. “Bring the old one inside,” he said softly, hoping the soldier had never heard the High Priest’s voice. Luck was with him. The soldier grabbed Heron, hauling the inventor back into the main hall. That was one out of the way.

  He turned and began to pace back toward the hall. He was almost there when a voice called out to him.

  “Anhotep, wait!” It was Zhudai. Phoenix looked back over his shoulder without turning. The Chinese sorcerer watched him with narrowed eyes. Phoenix knew that expression and it didn’t bode well for his disguise. It was the same look Jade got when she was checking something out for magical auras. Apart from Blódbál and the Bag, Phoenix was about as magical as a bowl of icecream. Possibly less.

  Time for Plan B.

  As calmly as he could, he reached into the Bag and muttered, “Iron gloves.” Footsteps drew closer behind him. Zhudai was coming to investigate. He only had time to draw on the left one. Hopefully that would be enough to give him the strength to heft Mjölnir.

  Phoenix spoke again to the Bag. “Mjölnir.” The handle of the Hammer of Thor slapped into his iron-clad palm. He pulled it out, tucked the bag away and slid the Hammer up the other sleeve. He now had magical weapons in both hands. It was now or never.

  A hand grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. Zhudai stood before him.

  “You are not Anhotep!” the sorcerer accused. “Who are you?” He reached out and shoved back the hood, eyes widening as he saw hair where there should be none. With claw-like fingernails, he cut the string that held the golden mask and ripped it from Phoenix’s face.

  “Probably the last person you wanted to see right now,” Phoenix grinned at him and drew both weapons from his sleeves. Before anyone could react, he pulled back his arms, stabbed at Zhudai with Blódbál and clumsily threw Mjölnir at the tekhen of Set at the same time. The sorcerer made a desperate grab at the weapon as it sailed past but the sheer weight and momentum of it knocked his hand aside. Unfortunately, his movement also took him out of range of Blódbál’s thrust.

  There was a hoarse scream as Mjölnir connected with the obelisk. Phoenix thought it came from Zhudai but he wasn’t sure, because this time they had the right tekhen. This time there was a serious light show.

  The hammer smashed into the column, sending stone fragments shooting across the courtyard. Then it rebounded, arced around like a boomerang and struck it again from a different direction. More stone flew. Cracks appeared like jigsaw pieces up and down the length of the column. A thousand beams of green-white light shone from the breaks, illuminating the obelisk like a Christmas tree.

  Phoenix held up a hand to shield his eyes and felt the Hammer of Thor smack into his palm. He only just missed hitting himself in the forehead. Stuffing Mjölnir and the glove back into the Bag, he turned his attention to the enemy. Anuket should be able to break free on her own now.

  His caution was unnecessary. Most of the Roman soldiers had either bolted or were standing, watching the lights, apparently transfixed. Zhudai had vanished. Jade and Marcus appeared by Phoenix’s side. They had snatched their weapons back from fleeing Roman guards. Together, they stared at the tekhen. The cracks got wider.

  “I know I’ve said this before,” Jade said softly, “but now would be a good time to run away.” So they did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  They made it inside the door and flattened themselves against the wall just as all hell broke loose. The Tekhen of Set blew outward and upward, carried on beams of light in all directions. It sounded like an enormous waterfall roaring into the depths of a valley. Scents of springtime washed into the hall: grass, water and flowers. There was the faint echo of a woman’s exultant cry of freedom and a man’s cry of anger.

  Then, light and sound vanished, leaving everything in total darkness. Outside, great lumps of rock came crashing to earth like solid rain. Screams of fear were cut off with sickening abruptness. Finally, silence reigned.

  Jade whispered a few small witchlights to life and sent them out. The four companions peered around the doorway. The courtyard was strewn with pieces of rock. Any people left were buried under tonnes of granite. The Tekhen of Set had disintegrated and the first hints of dawn washed the sky faintly pink over the eastern horizon.

  A woman appeared. She stepped gracefully amongst the destruction, placing her bare feet with care. She wore a long, red-brown tunic dress and a headdress of tall feathers crowning thick, dark hair. Her tanned face was exquisitely beautiful with green eyes, full lips and a straight nose. If it weren’t for the fact that she glowed faintly, she could have simply been a very lovely woman.

  Phoenix blinked. Jade elbowed him then poked Marcus, who appeared similarly stunned. They left the Temple, approached the woman and bowed.

  “Anuket,” Jade spoke for them all. “We are honoured to meet you.”

  The goddess smiled. Her voice was musical and many-layered, as though three or more people were speaking at once. “You have done me a great service this day, Arawn’s daughter. My fellow gods of the Nile thank you also: Hapi, Khnum, Setis.” She raised a hand and three more beings appeared beside her: two male and one female – all equally beautiful. They kissed her cheeks, nodded to the humans then vanished.

  Anuket smiled again on her rescuers. “What reward can I give you for freeing me from Set’s power?”

  “Er….” Jade glanced at Phoenix, who shrugged. “We thought you were just supposed to give us a task for our next quest in India.”

  “Yes, of course,” the goddess inclined her head. She held out a hand and large disc apparently made of silver appeared in it. She handed it to Jade who took it gingerly, avoiding the sharpened edge. One face was engraved with intricate, beautiful, geometric designs. Anuket spoke again.

  “This chakra needs to be placed in the hand of its rightful owner, six nights hence, on the last night of the dying moon. If you succeed, a path will be taken that will make whole what is torn asunder, he who has wronged will be redeemed and an Empire will unite. The weapon’s name is Sudarshana.”

  “Cryptic, as usual,” Phoenix muttered in Jade’s ear, handing over the Hyllion Bagia. She shushed him, trying to remember the instructions. She dropped the silver disc into the Bag, whispering its name as she did.

  Anuket turned her fathomless green gaze on Phoenix and smiled as though she had heard his comment. “Have you chosen your reward? Gold; power; a life?”

  He shrugged then his expression froze.

  “Did you say ‘a life’? Can you restore a life?”

  Anuket nodded. He spun on his heel and ran into the dark temple. Bewildered, the others watched the empty doorway in silence. Moments later, he emerged, bearing the small body of Brynn in his arms. Jade had to look away. She wasn’t yet ready to admit Brynn was really gone. Phoenix laid Brynn down on a flat piece of the broken obelisk and smoothed back his unruly hair. He looked pale, peaceful and absurdly young.

  “Can you give me back his life?” His voice was rough, angry, as if he was afraid the answer would be ‘no’.

  Anuket sent him a puzzled glance. “You would have me restore the life of this child when you have lost too many of your own? You would risk everything you are trying to achieve in this realm to save one small, insignificant soul? Why?”

  “He is not insignificant. Time and time again, Brynn has proved himself the truest companion. We’re family. We need him. I need him.” Phoenix ground to a halt, obviously struggling to speak through a tight throat.

  “Very well,” Anuket acceded. “All of you; kneel by his side and place your hands over his heart and head. Jade, the vine. I will restore your Binding, as well.”

  They did as ordered, feeling fragments of stone dig into their knees. Anuket closed her eyes and raised her hands to the heavens, murmuring and whispering in a singsong voice that reminded Jade of Elven music and the Druid Spring Equinox ritual. A gentle green glow formed in the palms of her hands, getting stronger by the m
inute. It began to spill over, flowing onto their heads in a waterfall of light. Jade’s hair almost stood on end as the powerful magic washed over her. She could taste springtime and growing things; hear birdsong and smell grass. Her body felt renewed and strong. It was like the Druid ritual – a life-spell of unimaginable power.

  The singing stopped. Anuket clapped her hands four times and a shower of purple-blue sparks cascaded over them. The goddess touched each of them on the forehead with a fingertip then stepped back.

  “It is done.”

  Beneath her hand, Jade felt a flutter. She sensed, too, the deep, inner renewal of the Binding Spell she had placed on her friends. The vine was gone. Their circle was once again complete. Brynn’s thin chest rose once; twice. He coughed and groaned and his eyes flickered open. For a moment, he stared blankly up at them then grimaced.

  “Ouch. If this is what it feels like to die and come back to life, I don’t envy you two any more at all!”

  Jade and Phoenix laughed and crowded around the boy, thumping him on the back and hugging him until he pushed them all away with a protest.

  “OK, OK, I get the message. You’re glad to see me.” He stared around at their surroundings. “Now will someone please explain to me what’s going on? The last thing I remember was the High Priest sticking a knife into me.”

  He touched the still-tacky blood on his chest with a shudder and looked at Phoenix. “Hey, I’m really sorry I killed you. Did I say that before? Well now I really, really mean it.”

  Phoenix squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I overreacted. You did the right thing and I’m….well, I’m glad you’re back.”