Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt)

by Scott, Veronica

  Curling up again, in case the lecherous guard was watching through the bars in the door’s small window, Nima surreptitiously untied the knot holding the bead on the strings, catching the bauble in one hand as it rolled free on the scratchy blanket. Bringing it closer to her eyes in the dim light, she studied the filigree. The bead appeared to be five snakes, entwined. Slowly, trying to be noiseless, Nima uncoiled and slid off the bed, going to fetch the remnants of the flat bread from her dinner. Carrying the crumbly, moldy bread back to the bed, she set the golden bead in the center, as Kamin had done on the rocky plateau.

  Now what? Blood, she needed a drop of blood. Nauseated, she scratched at her injured ankle for a moment, until a single drop of blood welled up. Using the string from the bracelet as a wick, Nima soaked up the ruby fluid and daubed the bead and the bread.

  But what to say? Even Kamin had seemed to just speak his mind, not utter any preset incantation. Licking her lips, Nima whispered her most fervent desire. “Great One, I thank thee for this gift, and I beseech you to give life to the serpents, to help me escape tonight while inflicting damage on these enemies of Egypt.”

  She waited expectantly. Ten heartbeats, then ten more.

  Nothing.

  “More blood? Different words?” she said under her breath. “Oh, this is ridiculous. Perhaps the goddess truly only meant the bead to be a piece of jewelry, although why—”

  Tiny gold and red sparks were flying into the air from the bead, disappearing into the gloom. She sat bolt upright, watching wide-eyed as the five tiny serpents untangled themselves from each other. Only a few inches long, they were too beautiful to be frightening, golden scales glinting as each slowly undulated across the blanket, ruby eyes glowing in the darkness of her cell. Reaching out in wonder, Nima let the closest snake crawl into her hand, exclaiming at the tickling sensation as the snake’s belly rasped across her palm. The snake coiled for a moment, hood flared, wisp of an emerald tongue flicking in and out, tasting the air.

  One of the others slithered across the bed, falling off the side. As Nima watched, still holding the first snake, the free-falling reptile winked out in a blaze of colorful sparks just as it hit the floor. Worried if she didn’t move quickly, she’d lose them all, Nima got off the bed, hand closed around the snake she held. Its tongue touched her fingers in featherlight sensations. She grabbed her mug with her free hand, tossed the dregs on the floor and dropped the snake into it, going back to the bed to catch the others. A second snake was working its way down the wooden leg of the bed, and Nima managed to capture it by the tail just before it reached the floor, dropping her captive into the cup with its fellow. Yet even as she did so, a third snake disappeared in a soundless explosion of color. She was searching in the blanket for the fifth when a voice spoke from right behind her.

  “Foolish girl, you squander the weapons I gave you.”

  Renenutet—for it was the snake goddess herself, in human form—reached past Nima’s shoulder, holding out one hand. The remaining three snakes flew through the air to her like tiny arrows, wrapping themselves around her wrist to create a fabulous bracelet.

  Heart pounding, Nima sank down on the bed.

  Stroking the living bracelet as if to calm the snakes while frowning at Nima, the goddess said, “You can’t call the snakes of Nebu merely to amuse yourself, girl.”

  You didn’t exactly provide me a scroll of instructions with the gift. Nima bit her tongue as she left the bed to go to her knees before the Great One. “I’m grateful for your continued assistance, my lady.”

  The goddess reached out to stroke her hand through Nima’s hair, patting her cheek as a mother might. “You are so like her, and she was my favorite.”

  “My mother?” Nima asked hesitantly.

  “Yes. She was trained to my service from the day she could walk, would have been the high priestess over all my temples one day. She was like a daughter to me, the child of my heart. Until she let herself be distracted—” Renenutet frowned, withdrawing her hand, and the snakes on her wrist writhed, hissing.

  “Distracted by my father.” Nima closed her eyes for a moment, wishing for the thousandth time with a dull aching pain in her heart that her mother had told her more about the mysterious father she’d never met.

  “You and I must both let the past go, child,” Renenutet answered in a low voice.

  The goddess put her hand under Nima’s arm and effortlessly drew her to a standing position. Tingles of energy ran from the spot where Renenutet held Nima upright with inhuman strength. Passing through her body in torrents, the sensation fizzed and sparked, settling in her injured ankle. Pain assaulted Nima as the injured muscles and tendons knit back together. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  In an attempt to distract herself from the healing process, she blurted out a question. “How—how are you here? The Hyksos boasted to me no Egyptian Great One could enter this place because of their god’s spell.”

  Laughing so hard the black plumes on her crown shook, the goddess released her and stepped back. “These males—gods and humans—they always think they rule the world, forgetting I’m an Elemental Elder goddess, born in the start of time. I have powers and abilities the modern ones like Qemtusheb and Horus fail to consider.” She raised a finger. “They forget my creatures own the cracks and crevices of the earth. Let foolish men block access above ground or through the sky—I can’t be deterred so easily. Luckily for them and all their schemes, I prefer my own duties to their endless quest for power and dominance.”

  The door crashed open, startling Nima. Sword at the ready, the guard stepped across the threshold. “Who are you talking to—”

  Turning her head, Renenutet snapped her fingers, and the man fell dead in a boneless heap, his sword clattering away across the stone floor. Nima ran to the corpse, swallowing her nausea, and wrenched his belt knife from its sheath despite her shaking hands.

  “What is it you want of me this time, girl?” the goddess asked, toying with the bracelet of snakes.

  “Escape from here.” Nima’s answer came without conscious thought, as she stared down the torchlit hall. She gripped the carved bone handle of the knife, knuckles white, as she turned back to her patron goddess. “To reunite with Kamin.”

  Renenutet nodded. “Time grows short for all things in this place. As you wish, take back the remaining snakes of Nebu and use them.”

  “Forgive me, my lady, but I don’t understand. Use them how?”

  Renenutet clasped her hand over Nima’s, and the snakes slithered one by one onto her wrist, where they reformed themselves into an elegant bracelet. The goddess’s fingers were icy cold, her grip strong. “Think what it is you wish each snake to be, to accomplish. Although you have forfeited two already, the final three may achieve your heart’s desire. Now listen carefully. There is a side gate to this fortress, where they send men two or three at a time to the river below this plateau, for water, to hunt game and the like. When you reach the main courtyard, turn left, and this single gate will be at the juncture of the walls.”

  “Unguarded?” Nima asked.

  Withdrawing her hand from Nima’s, the goddess smoothed down the intricate pleats in her iridescent gown. “You have a knife. You have my snakes. Nuit hung the full moon in her sky tonight, which will guide you to the river at the base of the plateau. Follow the river’s course to the Nile.” Green light blazed in the cell, surrounding Renenutet, who morphed into a giant black cobra between one heartbeat and the next. Golden hood flared out, she slithered around Nima’s body once, ruby-red tongue flickering to kiss Nima’s forehead. Then the giant serpent shot straight at the stone wall like an arrow. Renenutet disappeared into an impenetrable black inkiness just before she reached the barrier, the black cloud winking out as soon as her tail passed into the gloom.

  Knees weak, Nima adjusted her grip on the knife and slunk into the hallway past the dead guard, afraid if she hesitated for even an instant she’d be found out. Or lose her courage. She made i
t to the courtyard without trouble, relieved that the goddess had made her ankle as good as new. The halls were empty, the soldiers in their barracks. Apparently, General Nebuchazz had no concerns about any internal threats. When she reached the parade ground, Nima paused in the shadow of a column and reconnoitered. The guards on the wall were patrolling, gazing out across the flanks of the mountain, but lax discipline seemed to be the rule elsewhere as the two men standing at the main gate were leaning on their spears and talking.

  I should be able to reach the door the goddess described easily. And I can wish one of these snakes into becoming the golden key. Yet Nima didn’t move toward freedom. Fingering the knife, she glanced at the glittering ruby eyes of the snakes around her wrist and pondered. Once out of the fort, even after reaching the river, it was going to be a long, torturous hike to reach the Nile, much less to find her way to the capital city of Tentaris. Would the nomarch believe her wild story? And how would she ever locate Kamin, one soldier among thousands, in Pharaoh’s army? She stared at the stacks of shields and spears, the racked bows and full quivers. What Kamin would give to be here now, inside the fortress.

  Decision made, Nima pushed away from the pillar, straightening her back. Fire. Fire will cause them the most damage. And I know just the place to set the blaze. Slinking through the shadows, she headed for the stables, going in the opposite direction of the door to her freedom.

  The stable was warm, cozy, redolent of horses and leather. Bales of hay were stacked neatly in the loft above the stalls, just as Nima had hoped. Quickly, she went down the line of horses, untying the knots so the animals would have a chance to run before the fire got too well established. Then she hastened up the rickety ladder to the loft, taking a torch with her. Tossing the firebrand into the farthest corner, she jumped to the stable floor, her restored ankle easily bearing the shock of impact.

  Running to the door, she shoved it open before slapping the rump of the nearest horse. Startled, the animal bolted into the courtyard, followed by the horses closest to it. Stepping out of the stampede’s path, Nima could hear the fire taking hold above her, hissing and roaring as flames exploded through the dry fodder. Memories of the burning inn at Hebenar rising in her mind, she scurried into the courtyard as men began shouting, and sleepy soldiers poured from the barracks, heading for the stable.

  Taking advantage of the chaos, Nima made her way to the main gate, now abandoned by the guards caught up in the panic. Crouching in a shadow, she held the bracelet of snakes in her fingers. “Fire, I command you to become fire and burn this entrance, so the men of Egypt can enter when they arrive.” The little reptile hissed in her hand for a moment before disengaging from the other two snakes and slithering to the ground, becoming a rivulet of unearthly green fire as it went.

  Satisfied, Nima sprinted along the wall, locating the single door right where Renenutet had said it would be. Breathing hard, she stared into the eyes of the next golden snake. “A key, I command you to become a key for this door!”

  The snake wound its sinuous way down her outstretched hand to the keyhole in the single panel door, sliding into the opening and disappearing. Tiny golden sparks jetted out, and there was an audible click. Nima put her hand on the door to push it open just as there were shouts behind her.

  “Stop that woman!”

  Before she had a chance to open the door more than a few inches, she was grabbed from behind and yanked around to face a furious soldier. “Trying to escape in the chaos, slave?”

  “Trying to kill all of you,” she said, stabbing him in the chest with the dagger.

  Cursing, he dropped his grip on her, but the wound wasn’t a killing blow, apparently missing his heart. He staggered forward, grabbing her dress as he fell. Frantically, Nima tugged at the fabric, before kneeling to untangle his fingers or cut herself loose. She wasn’t given time as more soldiers ran up to seize her. Kicking, biting and fighting as hard as she could, she was no match for the well-trained warriors, who soon subdued her, one wrapping his belt around her wrists.

  “This is no slave—she’s the Egyptian prisoner,” said the officer in charge when he glimpsed her face in the moonlight .

  “The general’s dancer? How did she get out here?” asked the man next to him.

  “The soldiers in the patrol said she was a witch.” Nima’s captor spoke up. She could feel a tremor run through his body, but his grip didn’t slacken.

  “No Hyksos prison can contain me,” Nima said. She spat in the officer’s face. “You’re all going to die when the Egyptian army gets here.”

  The officer wiped his face with the corner of his cloak. “Bitch! You’ll regret this night’s work soon enough. Take her to the general.”

  ***

  Impatience and eagerness for battle burning through him, Kamin stared at the fortress, perched on a rise in the small valley below. I know Nima’s in there, I can feel it. He clenched his fist around the reins. Sensing his mood, the chariot horses took a step or two down the trail until he yanked them to a halt with one swift tug.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  His companion, Tiy-Ineb-Menhet , nomarch of this province, glanced at him. “Soon, my friend. The men are almost in position, and then we go.”

  Who knows how much time she has left down there? Urgency, underscored by an icy thread of fear, pounded in Kamin’s veins. He wasn’t afraid for himself. No member of Pharaoh’s Own Regiment went into combat with an unsettled mind. He’d long ago made peace with the idea of his own death, put it aside in his heart and mind so he could be at his most effective, undeterred by fear. He knew to the core of his being he could depend on his own skills and those of his comrades. Fate was in the gods’ hands. But Nima was another story entirely. She was no highly trained combat veteran. There was no one inside that hellish compound who would stand at her side, protect her.

  Nima, I’m so close to you now. Hang on!

  He assessed the massed troops he and the nomarch led. Closest to the chariot was the small unit of Pharaoh’s own men, sent to fight under Tiy’s command, some in chariots, some on foot. The deadly tip of the spear. Then the well-trained local troops, whipped into shape by Tiy and his officers from Thebes. They’d easily taken out the enemy sentinels along the trail, men grown lax and careless after so long in the desert with no real danger.

  For the thousandth time, Kamin laid a hand on the small leather pouch attached to his belt, reassured at the touch of the special amulet waiting there, his intended gift to Nima. He refused to accept any idea she wasn’t alive in that grim keep across the valley.

  The nomarch’s personal battle flag, the shield symbol overlaid with the cartouche of Horus, snapped and waved in the predawn breeze. A falcon shrieked overhead, but when Kamin tilted his head back to search for the bird, there was no sign of the aerial watcher.

  “We’ll find her, sir, don’t worry,” said the grizzled sergeant standing next to the standard-bearer. “Every man in the ranks knows we’re looking for an Egyptian woman, a prisoner whose life must be preserved at all costs.”

  Kamin nodded his thanks. Tiy had been thorough in posting an order listing preservation of Nima’s life as the top priority, just behind the defeat of the Hyksos army. Half smiling, he looked at the fortress again, remembering Nima drawing the map for him in the sand not so long ago. She had it all correct, too, right down to the hills surrounding this place.

  “What in the name of the gods is happening?” Kamin grabbed the nomarch’s arm and pointed as a huge plume of yellow and orange flames billowed over the fortress. Strange green fire lit up the gates.

  “Could be your lady is causing chaos,” Tiy said.

  An officer approached the chariot, saluting Tiy and Kamin. “We’re ready, sirs, battering ram in place.”

  “We go then.” Tiy raised his arm, sword pointed defiantly at the sky, and brought it down to point at the enemy target ahead. “Charge!”

  Trumpets blared. Cracking his long whip, Kamin gave his horses their heads and t
he chariot lurched into rapid movement down the mountain road, heading for the gates. Beside him, the Regiment’s best archer launched arrow after arrow toward the sentries walking the ramparts, taking out a man with each shot. More chariots swept down the road behind Kamin’s. The cart carrying the heavy battering ram rumbled along in their wake, soldiers trotting beside it, shields at the ready.

  The burning gates fell outward off their hinges, and a small wave of enemy warriors boiled onto the small plain, clashing with the Egyptian troops in individual battles.

  Funnel of death, Kamin thought in grim satisfaction. Rush out here one by one, you fools, and let us pick you off.

  Unchallenged, Kamin drove the chariot through the entrance into the first ring of defenses. He and Tiy jumped down from the vehicle, swords and shields at the ready, and joined the battle. Confused Hyksos warriors who had been firefighting were slow to reach their weapons. The courtyard was tightly packed with chariots and other gear, which also impeded the defenders’ efforts. Loose horses galloped here and there, further compounding the chaos.

  The archer stayed close to Kamin, as ordered, bow slung as he wielded his sword with deadly effect. Other men from the special unit fought to keep the Hyksos from overwhelming Kamin or the nomarch.

  Screaming curses and orders, a Hyksos officer rallied his troops, sending men to weak points in the defenses. The voice of command drew Kamin’s attention.

  Kamin thought he recognized Amarkash. “Son of a jackal!” Sword raised, jumping over bodies, dodging pairs of grim combatants, Kamin ran across the courtyard, intercepted by another enemy officer in a violent clash of swords and shields. The man fought well, thrust and parry and attack, but Kamin was desperate to get past him, to find out if it had indeed been Amarkash he’d glimpsed. I can force him to reveal where Nima is, then wring the bastard’s neck.

  Going on the offensive, his opponent raised his round leather shield, strangely shaped sword slashing at Kamin’s shield, denting the surface with the power of his blows.