* * *
He was walking up a small ridge, taking deep breaths of the fresh mountain air, inhaling the perfume of delicate white flowers that grew nowhere else but here. Soon he’d be at the top of the rise and the village would be visible, safe in its snug valley. The whole grim scenario would play itself out again, as it had hundreds of times since he was a boy, every time the dream had possessed him. Might as well get this over with. Khenet rolled his shoulders and strode forward.
A soft, warm hand wrapped around his callused fingers and squeezed gently.
This was new.
Glancing sideways, Khenet realized that Tiya walked beside him. She sniffed a flower held in her other hand and looked around at the meadow. The sight of her bolstered his courage even as his heart beat faster. This time it won’t be a nightmare. How could it be with Tiya so sweet and soft beside me?
Together, they walked into the village, heading down the dusty central street—not deserted, like his regular nightmare, but vibrant and lively with activity. People called out greetings as he passed them by, still hand in hand with Tiya. There was the baker, the armorer, the old mothers of the village, sewing and gossiping...it was all so normal, so routine, and his heart ached because it was no more. A pack of boys who’d never had the opportunity to grow up ran past, shouting as they played some high-spirited game. He recognized all of them, his childhood friends.
As he and Tiya paced, him matching his long stride to her shorter one, Khenet looked around with a sharp longing. The village was restored, the houses well kept—everything just as it had been the day he’d hiked out, racing to the provincial capital for help. Except his friends and neighbors were happy and healthy in this dream, even people who had died miserably before he—a small boy of eight—had been sent to make the desperate appeal to the faraway nomarch for help.
But here he was, a man grown, proud in the uniform of Pharaoh’s Own Guards, wearing the golden falcon badge with tabs for his copious gold of valor awards.
None of his people ever knew what he had gone on to accomplish with his life, the things he’d done, for himself, for all of them. Today he walked even more proudly, with Tiya at his side, hearing the admiring remarks, the shouted congratulations. The syllables of his own language fell on his ears like a beautiful song.
The high priest of Tla’amu approached them, looking hale and hearty, vigorous, not the scabrous skeletal figure Khenet usually met in this dream. Smiling, the elderly man made a sign in the air that glowed green. The three slashes comprising the mystical symbol flew like arrows to wrap around Khenet’s arm, highlighting the curves of his tattoo for a second before winking out.
“Last man,” the priest said, his voice a melodic baritone. “You truly are the Last Man of Avsarum, with all that entails. You must seize your opportunity—use the power well and wisely.”
Khenet wanted to stop, to ask questions, but Tiya drew him on, and they soon left the beaming priest behind.
A brown-and-white spotted dog ran up to them, barking and wagging its whippet tale, begging for his attention. Releasing Tiya’s hand, Khenet went to his knees to hug his old pet, burying his face in the soft fur, saying a farewell he’d never gotten to make in life.
Rising, he took Tiya’s hand again. They walked forward, the dog running ahead. Standing at the end of the road was his small house. His father and mother waited there, on the steps, smiling. Healthy. His mother nodded as they came to the bottom stair. She reached out and embraced him. “Well done,” his father said as he rested a heavy hand on Khenet’s shoulder...
Chapter Eight
Tiya woke from an odd dream about flowers and dogs, already fading, as dreams do. She leaned over the edge of the single bed, peering at Khenet, asleep on the floor, rolled in his cloak. He was in my dream, wasn’t he?
Leaning her chin on her crossed arms, she studied his features, strong and not quite handsome in the classic Egyptian style, but definitely a face to catch a woman’s eye. There’s so much more to him than the rough-and-ready soldier he presents. How terrible it must have been to be orphaned as a young boy, adopted by strangers and expected to give up all remnants of his own heritage. No wonder he keeps everyone at a distance. I’m sure Pharaoh’s family was kind to him but he must have missed his own parents dreadfully.
Khenet continued dreaming, expressions crossing his face in rapid succession. He mumbled something in a language Tiya didn’t recognize. I wish I’d met him before Nephthys started all this. I wish I had time and freedom to show him what he means to me, to break through the walls he’s built to protect his heart.
Remembering how the dancers had fawned over him at the inn in Zauimu, how Ankhmenet had expected him to sleep with her, brought a frown to Tiya’s face. As she watched, a fleeting smile passed over his features and he stirred. The next moment he opened his eyes, gazing directly at her.
“What?” He sat up, running one hand through his thick brown hair, the other grabbing at his sword. “Why were you frowning?”
“It was nothing. A hunger pang, perhaps.” I’m not telling him I was jealous of those dancing girls. They were so free to touch him and flirt with him and I could only watch. “You were smiling in your sleep. Dreaming?”
“Everyone dreams.” He stood, obviously embarrassed, a flush spreading on the back of his neck.
“A good dream then.” Tiya climbed out of the bed, stretching and stepping past him. “I rarely remember my dreams, not since childhood.”
“I’d rather not remember this one.” His face was grim as he buckled on his sword belt.
“A nightmare?” She paused in the act of sliding her sandals onto her feet and glanced at him. “Yet, you appeared happy.”
He paused so long she thought he wasn’t going to reply. Then he said softly, “Sometimes I dream of being home again.”
Remembering her earlier musings about his sad past, Tiya asked, “Your vision takes you to your village, doesn’t it?”
He nodded reluctantly. “In the dream, I’m a grown man, not a boy, and I walk along the street. This time they all came out to welcome me, the entire village. And, at the end of the street, my parents were waiting. I-I’ve never known the dream to take a happy turn like this.” He stopped abruptly. “It’s folly.”
“It’s a dream of the heart,” Tiya contradicted. “Perhaps when you sleep, your spirit takes you to where they are, in the Afterlife. I think it may be a good omen.”
He made a small business of checking the fastenings on his pack. He straightened and faced her. “Omen or no, we must be on our way. I’ll go have the horses hitched to the chariot.”
Tiya threw the last few things into her satchel and knotted the blue drawstrings. “I’m coming with you. I have no wish to stay in this room alone again.” And I’m not letting you out of my sight.
* * *
Two days later, having spent yet another night in an equally rowdy posting house, followed by unceasing travel, Khenet guided the team off the busy trade route and onto a road growing more dismal and rutted by the mile, winding steadily upward into the foothills. The horses strained at the harness, digging their hooves into the turf to pull even the light chariot up the grade.
Tiya shivered. “I can’t say I’m impressed by the territory.”
“Nor I.” Khenet drew the team to a halt and handed her the reins. “The right side horse is developing a limp. Hold them steady while I check his legs.” He jumped onto the track.
Tiya took a tight grip on the leather straps to maintain control, although the tired horses showed no inclination to bolt, preferring to snatch at tufts of grass along the rutted track. “What do you plan to do about making a camp tonight?”
Khenet patted the horse’s rump and ran his hand over one hind leg, then the other. Moving to the animal’s head to check the tack, he said, “There should be post houses alon
g this road. The map I studied in Dendaret had notations of such establishments.”
“Abandoned, surely?”
Dusting off his hands, he came around and jumped back into the chariot, taking the reins from her. “Even an abandoned post house will provide us with a roof and a defensible position, I hope. We’ll see what we find when we get there. The horse takes weight on his leg fine now—maybe he was tired.” He lifted the leather straps and the team slowly tugged the vehicle into motion.
Another hour or two brought them onto a plateau, and there they did find the ruins of a small inn. The building was partially collapsed and had all the signs of years’-long abandonment. Khenet drew the horses to a halt in front of the main building and stood, reins held loosely in his hands, assessing the potential.
Tiya rolled her eyes. “I don’t like it. Not at all.”
“Well, it isn’t very inviting but I don’t want you—and the horses—sleeping out in the open. These mountains have predators besides bandits, you know.”
Her expression grew anxious as the wind howled through the broken masonry. “Whatever we’re doing, we’d better decide before it gets dark.”
“True.” He lifted the reins. “Let’s go see how the stables have fared. We might be best advised to sleep there, with the horses.”
“All right—whatever you think.”
As he steered the team on the driveway leading to the rear of the establishment, an arrow zinged over Tiya, slicing past his arm and burying itself in the crumbling wall over his right shoulder.
Chapter Nine
As Tiya screamed Khenet cursed and applied the whip to the tired horses. Glancing back, he saw ten or twelve men chasing the chariot along the path, yelling, brandishing swords. There seemed to be only one archer in the group. “Get down, Tiya, take cover,” he commanded her harshly. “We’ll shelter in the stable ruins and fight them from there. They’ve blocked our access to retreat to the road.”
She cowered by his knees as he forced the horses into a gallop, the chariot bouncing along the dismal track until he brought the vehicle to a halt in the large stable area. Grabbing Tiya with one hand and his war bow and quiver with the other, he dragged her out of the chariot and, at a run, headed for a rickety ladder leading to the hayloft. He slapped the horses with the reins as he ran by the chariot. The tired animals reared and kicked, which delayed the bandits as they tried to get past the obstacle, buying some time.
Tiya was already up the ladder by the time Khenet reached the first rung, and he made quick work of joining her in the small loft, pulling the ladder up after him. She’d taken refuge behind a broken wooden bin of some kind, he noted with approval.
“They’ll be trying to find a way up here next,” he said as soon as he’d thrown the ladder down beside her, raising a small cloud of dust. “Stay behind that bin. Can you summon Nephthys?”
White faced, she nodded. “I’ll try.”
Wheeling, Khenet grabbed his bow and nocked the first arrow, targeting the man shouting orders at the rest. As soon as he’d launched the arrow, he reached into his quiver and shot again and again, taking out five of the attackers before the remaining men retreated, yelling curses at him.
“Five arrows left,” he reported to Tiya, pleased to see she had his dagger out, ready to defend herself. “They probably won’t try a frontal attack again, more’s the pity.”
“Could they burn us out?” she asked in a whisper.
He surveyed the loft in the gloom. The clay bricks were crumbling, loose in their mortar, the wooden framing rotting. “Not very easily, but that gives me an idea.” Setting the bow down with care, he crept across the loft to peer out through a chink at shoulder height, left by a long vanished brick or two. The bandits had gathered directly below, next to the wall, safely out of his sight and hearing, or so they thought—planning their next attack.
“What are you doing?” Tiya crawled on hands and knees to join him.
He held a finger to his lips. “They’re right below us. I’m thinking if I can knock part of the wall down on their heads, it’ll kill or disable most of them and I can easily finish off the rest. Move back to a safe distance.”
“I can help,” she said, coming to peek out the small opening herself. “Tell me what to do.”
“Any luck with an appeal to Nephthys?”
Tiya shook her head. “She’s not coming, apparently. Or else I don’t understand how to summon her.”
The purple stone was pulsing against his wrist, a tiny point of heat pushing him to action. The blood in his arm and shoulder ran hot, like liquid fire. He hoped that meant the magic of his people was lending him strength for the task. “Tla-amu, be with me now,” he said, setting his shoulder against the most discolored bricks and giving a small nudge. Encouraged as he felt the wall sway, he motioned Tiya back. “This whole part of the loft may collapse.”
Reluctantly she retreated to the other side of the small space, crouching behind the bin again.
Digging his feet into the rotted straw and hay on the floor, he put his entire strength into pushing, applying steady pressure on the wall. His arm felt like a stone battering ram, not flesh and blood. A moment later, with a clatter, the central portion of the wall fell outward, leaving Khenet clinging precariously to a wooden crossbeam. The bandits screamed and cursed as they were buried under the rubble.
Tiya ran to grab the back of his belt, helping him recover his balance and stay safely on the platform as more of the wall crumbled onto the men below.
“Thank you. Now wait here until I return,” he ordered, drawing his sword and preparing to jump from the loft.
“Be careful!”
Nodding, he made the leap to the ground, landing hard, and sprinting around the side of the small building to finish off his enemies. Three were clearly dead, buried under the pile of broken bricks. One was injured, unable to rise. The other man wheeled from trying to help his comrade, sword drawn, raising his blade to meet Khenet’s slashing attack. Khenet spun, landing a death blow, half severing his opponent’s neck. The man fell, blood gushing from the wide wound.
Going to check on the one remaining survivor, Khenet could tell from the glaze in the man’s eyes that he was soon for whatever afterlife he believed in. Already unconscious, the thug wasn’t suffering, so Khenet let him be to die in peace.
“Which is more than you’d have done for me,” he said under his breath, cleaning his blade on the nearest piece of cloth. He recognized the dying man as one he’d seen following them in Dendaret.
Walking back around to the stable entrance, he was pleased to observe Tiya had remained out of sight, per his orders. Hands on his hips, he called up to her, “It’s all right—you can come out now. I’ve taken care of them.”
Immediately she popped up and walked to the edge of the loft. “All dead?”
“Or dying. Slide the ladder over the edge and I’ll help you climb down.”
“I’m a bit afraid of heights,” Tiya told him as she dragged the ladder in place for her descent.
Grabbing the rickety device as she lowered it, Khenet secured it as well as he could. “I won’t let you fall.”
With a nervous look on her face, she climbed down the rungs into his waiting arms. He carried her to a set of stone stairs that stood in front of a pile of rubble, which must have been another outbuilding. Sitting and folding her into his arms, he tried to give her as much of his body heat as possible, holding her tight to suppress her tremors.
“Our horses?” she asked.
“The roan is dead in the harness. The bastards killed him,” Khenet said, angry at the senseless slaughter of a fine animal. “The other escaped the traces and is grazing over there in the field, limping badly on that sore leg. We’ll be on foot from now on, I’m afraid.”
“Must we stay here?” Tiya raised her hea
d for a moment, looking at the corpses sprawled around them, then averting her eyes and laying her head back on his chest.
“It’s getting dark and the winds are rising,” he said. “But I understand your reluctance.” Closing his eyes, Khenet visualized the papyrus he’d pored over in Pharaoh’s library, confirmed by the maps in Dendaret. I’d planned to get her to the other place in daylight, when we were fresher, and convince her to explore a bit with me. But perhaps this will work out better. He pushed down the excitement rising in his heart. “There was another building indicated on the map, further into the pass. We’ll try there.”
“How far?”
“Maybe an hour’s walk.” She sounds so exhausted, I wonder if she can make it. He squared his shoulders, still feeling remnants of that odd strength and heat in his arm. I’ll carry her if needs be. Standing, he pulled her to her feet as well.
After gathering the essentials from the damaged chariot, they picked their way out of the abandoned inn’s yard by the light of the rising moon and trudged into the pass, going north on the rutted track. A little over an hour later the destination he’d hoped to reach appeared on the horizon, eerily backlit by the moon.
The ruined building dominated the pass. At one time it must have been magnificent but now a large portion of the roof was caved in. Khenet could see where elements of the façade had been stripped away.
“What is that?” Tiya paused to take some deep breaths and rest.
“An old temple. We’ll shelter there for the night.” He fought to temper his eagerness, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’ll be better than sleeping in the open.”
“I can’t deny shelter sounds good.” Tiya studied the moon’s face. “A storm is coming on—see those clouds? But...are you sure it’s a good idea to disturb an abandoned temple?” She sounded doubtful, her question hesitant.
Warrior of the Nile (The Gods of Egypt) Page 14
