Trafalgar and Boone and the Books of Breathing

by Geonn Cannon

  “I brought you back to warn you. To inform you of how dangerous this path is, and hopefully convince you to decide against taking it. We don’t want to become murderers - permanent murder, that is - unless it becomes absolutely necessary.” The Stranger stepped forward and, with a wave of his hand, Virago sagged away from the wall. He grabbed her by her shoulders and turned her, gently urging her onto her knees. She struggled against him but there was little she could do with her arms bound. He kept one hand on her shoulder while he held the other up in front of her face. “I’m not going to physically harm you. I merely wish to show you a vision of the future.”

  Beatrice said, “If you wanted to hurt her just a little...”

  Virago twisted her head to sneer at her.

  “You wish to create Void without even knowing what that means. I can tell you exactly what it means: the elimination of magic in the world. Reuniting the four elementals will reestablish their dominance. That would be catastrophic for the continued survival of the human race. Since Miss Potter has proven to be the most dedicated of your trio, I thought she should be the one to bear witness to what is at stake. Apologies, Miss Potter. This won’t hurt, but it will be... uncomfortable.”

  Virago started to respond as he pressed his hand against his forehead. Whatever words had been on the tip of her tongue were swallowed by a gasp. She arched her back and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body tensed as if her spine had suddenly become stone. Beatrice could see golden energy flowing between the palm of their captor’s hand and Virago’s face. Her eyes were wide open but the color faded, leaving the irises as disconcerting pinpricks in a field of white.

  “They ma-arch. They march, so many of them in formation. Brown uniforms. Hard-faced young men. Frightened young men. Banners of red and black and white. Death. Oh god, thick clouds of smo-- bodies. The ashes are bodies, bodies burnt, buried...” Tears were flooding down her face. “Prisoners. God... so ma-any of them...”

  The man said, “The seeds of this have already been planted. The wheels are turning and could not be stopped even if we tried. Now...”

  Virago seized roughly, her shoes kicking the floor as the energy in the man’s hand shifted from golden to a sickly green. Beatrice could see Virago’s biceps flexing against her bindings, straining whatever material they were made from.

  “What are you doing to her?”

  “Only what is necessary. Tell them what you see, Ms. Potter.”

  She turned her head as if trying to look away, but her eyes remained locked on his hand. Her jaw trembled and put a tremor in her words when she finally spoke.

  “Bomb. A bomb. Oh, God, it’s... it’s ma-massive. ‘Rain of ruin...’ So many dead. So many.” She sobbed and sagged forward, but their captor used his free hand to keep her upright.

  Lasair said, “Stop this!”

  “She must see it all,” the man said.

  Beatrice pulled at her own restraints but she was helpless to do anything but watch.

  “Complete devastation.” Virago’s voice was raw, as if she was forcing the words out but would never speak again once she was done. “Children. Civilians.”

  He dropped his hand, instantly releasing the tension in Virago’s body. She slumped forward and he tenderly helped her sit up. Virago sobbed, head bowed, looking more defeated than Beatrice would have thought possible. All hint of bravado had vanished from her. The anguish on her face made it impossible to imagine it had ever worn the smug smile Beatrice had come to associate with the terrorist.

  “Who would use such a weapon?” Virago whispered. “What kind of monsters will we be fighting in this war of yours?”

  The man said, “I’m sorry, that was misleading. The first images... the soldiers, the flag, the camps... that was the enemy. The bomb you saw was us. That is what the side of the angels resorts to in order to finally end the conflict. Something around two hundred thousand killed, hundreds of thousands more will die in the aftermath. Both sides will resort to inhumane actions to defeat their enemies resulting in war crimes that violate every code of ethics imaginable. But with magic in the world, there will be other options. Less brutal options.”

  Lasair said, “How do you know any of this?”

  “It’s our burden.” He stood and guided Virago back to the wall. She remained docile as he restrained her again. “We do everything in our power to prevent the worst possible outcome. Sometimes that means allowing less-awful things to happen.”

  Beatrice said, “Like the murder of three innocent women.”

  “Actually, I would only need to kill one of you. She would be replaced by another elemental, but that person would be a child and it would be a few decades before they were old enough to be a problem. By then, the war will be underway.”

  “A few decades?” Virago muttered, stunned that such horrors might be seen in her lifetime.

  “But of course no one absolutely has to die. Simply agree to abandon your search for the fourth elemental. Return to your lives. Forget about each other and the prophecy. We will keep watch over you from a distance, as we always have, but if you give us no reason to harm you... we will remain unseen. The choice is yours, ladies. I’ll give you a chance to discuss--”

  Virago said, “We’ll stop.”

  Beatrice looked at her. Never had she seen anyone look so utterly defeated. Virago’s face was pale and drawn, though the color had returned to her eyes.

  “I began this quest. I forced Miss Sek and Lasair to join me. If they attempt to continue without me, I will stop them myself.”

  The Stranger closed his eyes and allowed himself a small, relieved smile. “The world will not know the sacrifice you’ve made today, but know that you have our gratitude. Now, I would prefer not to extinguish you all again, but I can’t have you knowing where we are.”

  “We’ll go quietly,” Virago said. “Bag our heads, drug us, whatever you need to do.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Potter. I must say, I am overjoyed to see that you’ve come around to our way of thinking. You’ll all be returned directly to your homes. I’ll prepare your transport immediately.”

  He turned and left the room.

  Beatrice said, “I’m surprised to see you give in so completely.”

  “You didn’t see what he showed me.” She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard. “If he’d asked me to save him the trouble and end my own life, I would have. We cannot allow that reality to come to pass. We cannot bear the burden of such atrocities.”

  The door opened and the Stranger returned, this time flanked by three other men. They were nondescript, bland men in unremarkable clothing, and each carried a black hood. “These will be your escorts home. Thank you for your cooperation, ladies. Rest assured that you have saved millions of lives.”

  “I meant what I said,” Virago muttered to both of her fellow elementals but looking at neither of them. “If you continue this quest, I will find out and I will end you myself. This is a vow.”

  One of the men slipped a hood over Beatrice’s head, blocking out anything else Virago or Lasair might have said.

  #

  Getting Leola out of the burial chamber took all three of them, Dorothy and Trafalgar acting as anchors as Denny made sure the rope didn’t rub against the edge of the shaft. Leola ascended by planting her feet on the curved wall and pulling herself up the rope. She moved an inch at a time, making achingly slow progress, but Dorothy knew only tragedy would come from rushing the process. Even though she could feel Amenemhat’s lead increasing, she wouldn’t dare put Leola’s life at risk just to pursue him.

  By the time Leola reached the top, she was covered with sweat and panting for breath. Denny took her hand, pulled her to safety, and let her lean against him as he walked her over to the wall. She sat down and handed Trafalgar a small wooden box about the size of a humidor. She looked past Denny at Dorothy and smiled.

  “Nice to see things returned to normal while I was down there. Hello, Lady Boone.”

  “Hello,
Miss Kidane.” She handed her canteen over and indicated for Leola to drain as much of it as she needed. “Nice to see you with my own eyes once more.” She looked at Trafalgar. “Hopefully the risk you took was not in vain.”

  Trafalgar had opened the box and withdrew the scrolls within. She skimmed the contents and nodded. “From what I can tell from an on-the-fly translation, this does indeed seem to be a collection of spells. Was there anything else in the tomb which may have fit the description?”

  Leola shook her head. “Some treasures, though. Gold, statues, jewelry. Amenemhat must have had some people who still liked him even after he was executed.”

  “Then we shall have to assume this is it.”

  Denny said, “I can call for a police guard to watch the mastaba, just in case Amenemhat tries to come back.”

  Dorothy said, “Good idea. And best give them descriptions of all of us. We have no idea if we’ll suffer another swap before all is said and done.”

  “Probably wise,” Trafalgar said. “Better that none of us can access it than risk Amenemhat getting inside. Where do we go next?”

  “The fourth tomb from Denny’s investigation. He’ll probably be long gone by now, but we might get lucky.” She tugged at her clothes and took a moment to examine what she was wearing. Oversized trousers and a shirt that had been patched more times than it had been washed. She wasn’t wearing a brassiere and suddenly doubted she’d had a bath since having her body taken in the Inkwell. “And then directly to the hotel where I can deal with a few issues of hygiene. I’ve never wished more for a dress than I do at this moment.”

  Trafalgar raised an eyebrow. “Dorothy Boone in a dress? I never thought I would see the day.”

  “Nor did I. But I believe I’ve had quite enough of men’s clothing for the next little while.”

  “I’ll be sure to snap a photograph for your parents.”

  They left the tomb and climbed into the car that was left. Denny directed them to the final tomb but, as predicted, Amenemhat had already been there and gone by the time they arrived. Dorothy and Trafalgar went inside and confirmed he’d been there. The false wall had been destroyed, and Dorothy moved one of the stones to reveal dust underneath it. He’d come directly to the tomb of his lover and stole the ka statue with her consciousness inside.

  “What do we do now?” Trafalgar asked.

  “We still have the advantage.” Dorothy stood and brushed the dust off her hands and began to pace. “We have the Books of Breathing, but he might attempt to get an unwitting victim to read Henuttaui’s inscription to provide her with a temporary host. Amenemhat knows we have the Books. He’ll come for us, but not immediately. From what he’s seen and what I presume he learned from being inside my body for the past few days, he’ll know what we’re capable of. He won’t rush in blind. He’ll regroup and come up with a plan first.”

  Trafalgar said, “I fear that he’ll dispose of Desmond’s body with haste.”

  Dorothy thought for a moment and then dismissed the idea. “No. Swapping bodies is just as disconcerting as you might imagine. Now more than ever he’ll want a clear head. Being in Desmond’s body puts him in control of someone who is strong and clever. Someone who knows how we operate. He’s too valuable to just throw away.”

  “Then his first order of business will be securing Henuttaui. He’ll want to be certain she’s protected after going through all this trouble to retrieve her.”

  “Right.” She chewed her bottom lip. “He’s retreating now. Looking for a safe haven. But he won’t leave us alone indefinitely. Eventually he’ll come for us.” She sighed and rolled her shoulders. “That’s one bit of good news, at least.”

  “Good news?” Trafalgar said.

  “Yes. If we know he’s coming for us, then we can return to the hotel and rest for a while. We’ll have to be on alert, of course, but we don’t have to exhaust ourselves searching all of the Sahara for him. We can set up defenses, come up with a plan, relax, take a bath. And more importantly, I can put on a bloody bra.”

  Trafalgar said, “Ah... well...”

  “What?”

  “When we left London, you were in Desmond’s body. We stopped at Desmond’s home so you could pack for this trip. So unless he has a predilection I’m unaware of...”

  Dorothy blanched and then rolled her eyes. “Oh, crumbs. Fine. To a clothing store on the way back to the hotel.”

  Trafalgar chuckled and followed Dorothy out of the tomb.

  #

  Amenemhat was covered with rock dust, his muscles aching from the effort of breaking down the wall in his beloved’s tomb. His new host, Desmond, was indeed physically stronger than Boone, but he lacked stamina and seemingly had no experience in hard labor. The muscles of his back were aching something fierce, and he had to keep flexing his fingers to prevent them from locking on the steering wheel. He couldn’t help but feel he had made a bad exchange.

  But it was worth it. He looked at the passenger seat where Henuttaui’s ka statue lay cradled in his jacket. The inscription carved into the base would be enough to grant her life, but he needed someone to recite it. Even then it would only be a temporary solution before they would have to find a new host. The Books of Breathing would allow him to force Henuttaui into a host which she would then have complete control over. No bleed-through from the previous consciousness, no slow fade into oblivion.

  He considered Boone a worthy candidate. She was strong and beautiful, and worthy of Henuttaui’s cleverness and personality. But Miss Trafalgar... he had only seen her briefly, but her strength was evident in how she handled the rope lowering her friend into the burial chamber. She was tall and equally as beautiful to Boone, and there was something about her eyes which reminded him of his lost love. She would be nobody’s second choice.

  Perhaps when the time came, he would capture them both and allow Henuttaui to choose which one she would take. It was only right that she have a say in the process. It would serve a dual purpose to have them both present when his plans came to fruition. Trafalgar and Boone seemed to have a great many friends and the means to remain on his trail across continents. One of them would become his beloved’s new host and the other would be killed to discourage any further pursuit.

  It might have taken far longer than he would ever have imagined, but now the moment was close enough that he could almost taste it. He and his beloved would be together again, and nothing would get between them again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The proprietor of the hotel seemed suspicious when Dorothy asked for a key to her room, a key he’d originally given to a man traveling alone, but that key was with Desmond’s body. Leola vouched for her and insisted the circumstances were entirely proper. They retired upstairs and took a moment to regroup in the corridor. They had to be on alert, since Amenemhat now had access to Desmond’s memories. Denny made the appropriate calls and assured them that the tombs of Amenemhat and Henuttaui were now being guarded around the clock.

  Dorothy had bought the necessary clothing from a shop Leola recommended. She stripped out of the clothes that reeked of male sweat and old fish. She filled a basin with water so she could wash up. She submerged her hands and brought them up back up, watching as the water slipped through and around her fingers. They were unmistakably hers, the familiar knuckles and fingernails that she’d seen her entire life. After nearly a week of looking down to see shockingly large hands with their soft, uncalloused fingertips, it was like coming awake to see her own beautiful hands once more.

  She closed her eyes and touched her face. She left behind streaks of water on her cheeks, her lips, and the bridge of her nose as she explored her features. No beard, no unusual topography. She moved a hand behind her ear and felt that one spot which became grimy if it wasn’t properly washed, and she wet a sponge to take care of what Amenemhat had neglected. The water trailed down her neck and caught in her hair in a way she knew very well.

  There was a knock on the door, a summons she considered ignoring
for further exploration, but she knew it might be something important relating to Amenemhat. She was still nude save for her underwear so she wrapped a dressing gown around herself as she left the bathroom.

  “Yes?”

  “Lady Boone?”

  Dorothy unlocked the door and smiled at Mazzi. “What, you didn’t recognize my voice?”

  Mazzi chuckled. “It’s a bit more melodic than the last time. And you have cleaned up nicely since we last saw each other.”

  “I’ve barely cleaned up at all,” Dorothy said, “but I thank you for the compliment. Is everything all right?”

  “Everything is fine. I was downstairs. Leola mentioned you were back to normal but you were lacking in wardrobe. I thought I might offer you a few things you might need.” She patted the bundled clothes she was holding. “Shirts, slacks, socks. I don’t have a dress, but you didn’t seem the sort for dresses.” She chuckled and passed the bundle to Dorothy. “Well, you didn’t seem the sort for dresses when we met. But I meant from your personality...”

  Dorothy laughed and took the offering. “I gather your meaning. And you’re right, given the option I would prefer trousers. Thank you. This is very thoughtful of you.”

  “Prego. So how does it feel to be back in your own skin?”

  “Remarkable. I’ve been taking it for granted, but now that I’ve had to live without it for a while, I look forward to getting reacquainted with myself.”

  Mazzi raised an eyebrow. “Mm. Sounds delightful. May I watch?”

  Dorothy almost laughed, but she remembered the surge of emotions when she’d woken to find Mazzi in bed with her. She stepped back out of the doorway and inclined her head.

  “If you would like.”

  Mazzi laughed softly, but the smile didn’t make it all the way to her eyes before it wavered and died. “Yeah...?”

  “Come in.”

  Mazzi hesitated a moment and then stepped inside. Dorothy shut the door and twisted the lock as Mazzi took a seat in the room’s armchair. Dorothy felt Mazzi’s eyes on her as she walked to the dresser, placed the clothes on top, and then moved to sit on the foot of the bed. Mazzi had crossed one leg casually over the other, her fingers linked together over the knee. She intended to look casual, but Dorothy could see the tension in her eyes and the set of her lips. Dorothy kept her knees together and tried to look reassuring.