Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga)

by Merrie P. Wycoff

  “Hundreds of foot soldiers protect us,” I said, seeing this clear vision.

  “Yes. What do they look for?” she asked.

  “Assassins. More assassins,” I replied.

  “What type?”

  “Archers, the kind that shoot from afar.” I remembered the arrow that slew my cat and hunched my shoulders forward as if the motion could protect my aching heart for the fresh onslaught of pain and grief.

  “Good. Are there any of these long-range archers out there?”

  “Not yet. No one knows about our departure.”

  “True. But once the news spreads of our clandestine exodus, tongues will wag, I assure you. Action will be ordered. And I am teaching you this skill because it could be your young eyes that save us.” Her message was clear. We couldn’t mistake this journey for a pleasure ride. Danger lurked around every bend.

  “I understand.” Fear flooded my senses. As my eyes swept the shoreline, I imagined all types of terrible evils. My breathing became irregular, yet I wanted to be helpful.

  “You dare not go to that dark place,” admonished Amaret without sympathy. “I have enough to worry about without you conjuring up illusionary demons to haunt us.”

  The seer pinched me. The shock of her action forced me to be present.

  She knew fear would make me lightheaded and short of breath. Yet she didn’t give me the respect as a future Per Aat.

  Amaret disregarded my indignation. “We have no time to waste with fear. Back to the assignment. What else do you see? How fares your father?”

  Focusing upon the Radiant One, I saw Father prone in his enclosed copper lined vault that served as his bedroom. “His breathing is slow and he looks pale and chilled. Pentu pulled a coverlet over him and pours an elixir into my father’s mouth.”

  “And your Meti?” asked Amaret.

  I turned my inner eye to spy upon the face that wouldn’t seek mine.

  “She is ill at ease.”

  She paced within the confines of her cabin. Her crossed hands clutched her elbows. Her possessions of beauty were thrown without care upon the dressing table. Her elaborate braided wig lay askew like a nest of asps. A heavy jeweled collar clanked against the metal box. Nefertiti, shorn of her once lustrous locks, was now washed clean of rouged lips, kohled eyebrows and liner.

  An orchestra of candles surrounded her; even the flames adored her and bent in worship. The elegant shape of her clean shaven skull was held up by her swan neck upon the wings of thin shoulders. So lovely. I envisioned her so clearly that I reached out, hoping that within the privacy of her heart she could embrace me.

  “You belong to the Aten. Give up your earthly mother,” said Amaret.

  “She may have birthed you, but you walk the path of the Deities now. You belong to the stars. It is not easy to sup upon the nourishment of the heavens and then be forced to return to the food of earth. Your Meti has turned her envious face toward other horizons. Let her go.”

  How could I? As if cutting the ties to my mother could be as simple as undoing the knot of the cook’s apron and hanging it upon the hook at night. One doesn’t simply break the tie to her beloved mother because of jealousy. That wouldn’t be love.

  I turned away from Amaret and lied, “I am weary and will take my leave.”

  Without dismissal, I climbed downstairs to my solitary chamber.

  Someone arranged my room to imitate my bed chamber within the Malkata Palace. All the furniture, while lavish, felt like imposters. I took no comfort. Instead, I submerged myself in the humiliation of being banished. When we built our city to the Aten, then there would be peace.

  How could it be otherwise?

  The Helmsman pointed toward the long winding canal of papyrus marsh. “Abydos!” The rowers picked up speed with renewed enthusiasm.

  This side passage to the Temple of Osiris offered greater protection from the Amunite scouts who might well be tracking down the Per Aat Nefertiti and Pharaoh Akhenaten. By now, the Hanuti would have discovered our hasty departure for a week of meditation. If anyone suspected that Heliopolis was not our true destination, then spies would be sent out.

  “Merit-Aten, you must ready your appearance, for you will be presented according to your station,” said Amaret.

  “I should dress myself?” I asked, having never done so before. “Where are my attendants?” I kept my eyes lowered with respect even though I felt indignant.

  Amaret slopped up the last of the lamb stew with a bit of sun bread.

  “Your Meti requested extra help with your younger sisters, so your attendant is assisting her. There is no one else. Besides, you are old enough to learn how to wash and dress yourself.”

  The seer shooed me away, but I stood firm.

  “Meti is older than I am and she does not know how to dress herself.” The stew sprayed out of Amaret’s mouth as she coughed hard. Her face reddened. I believed it to be the only time when the seer didn’t have a response, which satisfied me.

  “Well, she is the Per Aat. It is the duty of the court to attend to her. A Deity incarnate cannot be sullied with the mundane. Her hands must never be used for the dull tasks ascribed to mere humans,” she said.

  “If my Meti is a Deity incarnate, then so am I, and I want someone to dress me,” I demanded. Meti always expected to receive royal treatment. If truth be told, I didn’t know how to choose my own clothes. Suddenly, my feet began to tingle with a burning sensation. I hopped from one to the other. Why was it whenever I demanded something the heat seared my feet?

  “Then I shall assist you today because you will need your finery. I hope your attendants packed some of the detailed royal costumes, but of course they were not informed of your true plans.” She guided me below to be relieved of the already foreboding temperature of the early summer afternoon.

  The seer struggled to braid my sidelock by yanking my hair and making me squeal. When I turn nine next year, I will grow out my hair and abandon this youthful custom.

  “Pick any of your nicer sheaths and put it on. Now, your sandals.”

  “Those do not fit me anymore.”

  “Try them,” she said. “They will have to do. Are your feet clean?” She felt the bottom of my feet, which seemed odd.

  “Oh, dear Isis, how long have you been barefoot?”

  “Since we boarded the boat two days ago.” I replied, surprised that she would care if my feet were clean when hers were filthy.

  “Well, let me wash your feet. The Osirian priests and priestesses will think I brought a wild animal aboard if we bring you into their whitewashed temple with such uncleanliness.”

  Amaret spoke to me in a way that no commoner would ever dare. I secretly admired her courage. I understood why Grand Djedti Ti-Yee allowed her indiscretions, because Amaret had so many gifts in the world of mystery. “Why do you not wash your feet?”

  Amaret straightened. “I may tread upon the halls of the Royals, but that is not my calling. I am but a simple Nubian woman born barefoot next to the swine pen. I never wore sandals growing up, so why should I now? The company I keep may have changed, but I have not. I cannot abide by the imposition of all those court rules, so I made a deal with your father. Leave me be and I shall give you my eyes.”

  Her eyes. All who stood in her presence shunned her gaze. I peeked enough to know they had a milky blue glaze. But why? What made it forbidden?

  “I can hear your thoughts.”

  I pursed my lips, embarrassed she caught me.

  “Do you wish to look?”

  “Y-yes,” I stammered.

  “Then behold.” I sucked in my breath, feeling the fear prickle up my spine. Gooseflesh rose upon my arms. I lifted up my eyes, and stared in awe. I waved my hand in front of her face.

  “You are blind.”

  “Indeed.”

  “How?”

  “When I was your age, I felt a calling. Each day while feeding the chickens, I waited for my destiny, but nothing happened. I got angry and cursed the Deitie
s for denying me. One night during a terrible storm my father sent me to herd the goats to safety. That was when I called out to Isis. Show me my path, I pleaded, I shall give you anything. Lightning flashed down from the heavens and hit me so hard that I was blinded. My father refused to feed a child who could no longer work.

  “I started begging. Although I could not see those who offered food, I knew more about them than they knew about themselves. Only when Isis took my eyes did I begin to truly see. Word spread. The villagers feared me, yet they sought me out. One day a wealthy man demanded to know if his partner had cheated him out of some money from their shipping business. When I told him no, that his beloved mother had stolen it, he called me a liar and I felt he was prepared to hit me. I held up my hands in defense and though I was blind, I could see a flash of blue light shoot out of my suddenly hot eyes. I heard him fall to the ground. I did not understand how it happened, yet the villagers cursed me for his death. I took refuge in a nearby temple.

  “One day during a Royal Procession, Per Aat Ti-Yee came to visit. She dropped to her knees, asking Hathor for mercy to watch over her first born son Tuthmosis, who wested in a terrible chariot accident.”

  “You knew Grand Djedti?”

  “Yes, I revealed to her that this tragedy was no accident. Someone had weakened the axel so it would break and most likely throw her cherished son to his death. Indeed, she examined the chariot and learned the truth. She summoned me to court to be her Seeress and protector. Still as thankful and honoring of me as she is, your Grand Djedti will not tempt faith by looking me in the eyes.”

  “Abydos ahead,” yelled the Helmsman again.

  “Merit-Aten, hurry, you do not want to miss this.” I wriggled my toes, pleased to have the heat of my body quelled by her cool cloth, and because her mothering made me long for Hep-Mut.

  “Let us ascend to the upper deck.”

  As I trailed up the stairs behind Amaret, a vision appeared, so splendorous that my jaw dropped. I grabbed Amaret’s thin arm, leaning into her for fear my legs would fold beneath me for what loomed ahead made us all speechless.

  “A Per Neter, is a four-sided triangle on a square-shaped base. The largest one ever built in honor of Osiris and even larger than the Per Neter at Giza.”

  “Is this the only Per Neter?” I asked, stupefied.

  “There are quite a few more.

  “What is it for?”

  “If my senses are correct, you shall find out in due time, and of that no more shall be said now.” Amaret pretended to sew her lips together with some unseen needle.

  We disembarked after they tied the gaggle of barges to the dock. Meket-Aten held her arms out to me, “I have missed you. Ankhi is no fun to play with. She steals my toys and then screams when I take them back. I want to play with you.”

  “Meket, my sweet sister, I have no one to play with either. I only had the egrets to share my sorrow with,” I said, returning her joyous hug. “Sisters, do not dally,” said Meti as she followed the others up the limestone steps.

  We fell in line behind her and climbed until our legs ached and our lungs burned. We finally reached the top. Netri rode the palanquin carried by four hearty men up a narrow path that paralleled the steps. At the top stood a glistening white granite pylon engraved with an enclosed symbol of two wings and between them an oval with two cobras slithering out. Temple members escorted us to the reception chambers across the exquisitely tiled marble floor of the open air portico. Inside, painted murals of Isis and Osiris riding upon the golden barque of the sun depicted this eternal couple’s decent to Earth. They used real gold to create the barque, and it glistened from polishing. Five intricately carved thrones awaited on top of the red rug covered steps.

  We dined upon great platters of food carried upon the heads of the servants of Osiris. My eyes grew heavy with sleep.

  “May we retire?” I asked Meti.

  “Soon. They have prepared private quarters for all.”

  Netri leaned over and whispered something to her that I could not hear.

  Meti replied in a louder tone. “Again, so soon? Why does she need another one?”

  He nodded his goodbyes to the temple guests.. “It is her calling,” he replied in that voice from another world.

  “But I want to go to bed.” I yawned.

  “It is late and we have been trapped upon those stinky barges for days. Surely, it can wait,” Meti said in a sultry voice as she stroked his arm. “Would you take me on a chariot ride?”

  “My Heart, you know how dangerous chariots are. Just last week two of our best soldiers caught their wheels while racing. Both wested after being thrown asunder and trampled.”

  Her eyes blazed yet again, igniting her temper to be denied anything.

  “Then perhaps we can indulge ourselves in other ways. Let us enjoy the steam baths and a massage.”

  My father paid no heed to her advances; instead he replied, “It is the will of Aten for our daughter to receive her next initiation inside the Per Neter. Pentu has read the stars and tonight a lunar eclipse will darken the night. It is fortuitous for her to receive the first stage of the Osirian ceremony.”

  “You choose an initiation over the chance to take pleasure with me? It has been so long. Surely I could soothe you in ways we have not yet explored,” she said. Then she took a sip of red wine and allowed a drop to spill down the side of her mouth and dribble onto her exposed copperskinned breast. Orange flames ignited her nethers.

  My mother’s sexual intonation held me spellbound. I had learned of this mystery between men and women through the chatter of the court.

  “My Heart,” said Father in a kind way, “I have dedicated my body and soul to the Aten. I am not a man who takes interest in worldly or physical pleasures except to procreate. I hear the Servants of Isis will perform the purified Heka rites tonight, followed by a reading of the sacred papyri. Perhaps this will bring you pleasure.”

  Meti snarled, “I do not need you to direct me in taking pleasure, my Heart. If you choose to perform yet another initiation instead of joining with me, then so be it. I shall not stand in your way. Please do not stand in mine.” With that, she stomped away.

  “Merit-Aten, it pains me to have disrupted the harmony of this evening.” Netri patted his lap and, with gratitude, I took refuge within the harbor of his arms. “Would you do me the honor of joining us tonight for a ceremonial service?”

  “Yes, Netri, I will,” I said.

  Even though sleep dulled my senses, Meti had left me no choice. Had she reached out with open arms to bring me, the lost lamb back into her flock, I would have trotted after her baying my rejoices. I would have heralded the moment of return and remained her indebted babe in arms for all eternity. In the moment of a fly’s landing, I lost the innocence of childhood and stepped into the role of responsibility and duty to the crown. It seemed a paradox.

  “I shall join you for this initiation,” I said as we walked hand in hand toward my destiny.

  We arrived at a door set into the white limestone blocks of the Per Neter. My father knocked three times.

  “Who goes there?” said a frightening voice.

  “The protector of the Neophyte, Merit-Aten,” replied Netri in a thunderous voice.