Song of Isis

by Diana Kirk

  Alex slanted him a glance and lowered her voice to a whisper. "And have I?"

  Tarik leaned down and cupped her chin with his hand. "You know the answer to that better than I."

  "Then why did you...." Her gaze was caught by a strange formation on the wall. Squares in a strange pattern, like something she'd seen before. "Tarik?"

  He turned to where she gazed.

  "What is that on the wall?"

  He sauntered over for a better look. "This?"

  He pointed to the hieroglyphic of a woman flying over the sun, the moon, the stars. "It is very ancient. It is suspected Isis placed these here by her own hand, and the woman is Isis herself."

  "But I've seen that before."

  "Where?"

  "In the tomb. You say it's Mentuhotep's tomb, yet I know he was buried in Deir el-Bahri."

  "No. That is not so. Mentu is not dead. I am taking you to him this dusk."

  "I don't want to go." She glared at him.

  He caught her wrists in a strong grip. "You must not always challenge. I know whereof I speak."

  Alex leaned into his chest, his grip softened, and his arms slid around her. "I won't go." She took a deep breath. "I know this is difficult to understand, but remember what I showed you today with Seta?"

  "It is all I can think about. What you showed me today, I do not understand."

  "You will someday, I promise." She feathered her fingers up through the dark hair covering his chest. "Please tell me about the tomb."

  "I only know of his plans for Abydos. He honors Isis with his burial." He tightened his arms around her and the evidence of his passion seared the sensitive skin on her lower abdomen.

  "Tarik?"

  "Yes."

  "I know certain things. I've been given the power to predict events that haven't happened yet. I know when Mentuhotep dies, he will be placed in a glorious tomb at Dier el-Bahri."

  His lips hovered over hers. "You are a woman of great mystery. I want to believe you." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I am honor bound. You were found in Pharaoh's tomb and you belong to him."

  "But what if it isn't his tomb and he's changed his mind?"

  He kissed the hollow of her throat and backed away breaking their embrace, still holding his gaze with hers. "You are for Mentuhotep. It is his decision, and only his, what to do with you."

  She held her gaze firm. "But what if he changes his mind about me?"

  Tarik's eyes angered in darkness. "Do not do this. He will not change his mind, for in all of Egypt a fairer prize is nowhere to be found."

  "But--"

  "Alex. We will not speak of this again. Do not poison Isis against me in the last moments we have together."

  THEBES WAS breathtaking. Everywhere Alex looked there were soaring sandstone temples glistening under the blistering midday sun. Inlaid lapis and turquoise flooring covered stone courtyards filled with statues of Amon, Isis, Osiris and just about every other god and goddess known to Egypt. It was hard not to react to all this beauty, but Alex's heart was breaking.

  At dusk, they walked back in silence. She'd avoided talking of her impending fate for the better part of the afternoon, but the more imminent her fate, the more her mood darkened.

  A small group of men lounged at the dock. The moment they recognized Tarik, all sprang to their feet and hailed him.

  "Good evening, Kensu," he said warmly.

  "Hail, Tarik, Friend of Pharaoh."

  Tarik crossed the plank and locked arms with his friend. "May the mother of Egypt bless your loins with fruit. What news have you?"

  "A runner brings news of your house woman."

  "Nafari?" he said, a worried tone wavered his voice.

  "Aye. She is gravely ill."

  "Then I shall return immediately. What is the cause? Did the runner say?"

  He bowed. "One day and night running across the red land, your courier has almost died from lack of water. Yet, still he brought the information. Almost as you left, her foot was cut and she bled to weakness. In the heat, a stripe of red travels the length of her leg. She is surely with fever."

  "We return at once. It will take less time traveling with the current."

  A surge of hope filled Alex. He hadn't put her off the boat. If she could convince him to go to the tomb for her bag, she'd find a way back. If only he'd take her.

  "Tarik?"

  He hurried onto the boat and gave orders to cast off. "We must hurry. I cannot bear her to die."

  Alex grabbed his arms. "Please. I can save her."

  He stopped.

  "As you did Seta?" he said hopefully.

  "Yeah, sure. Exactly. But you must do something for me."

  "What is it?" A cloud of distrust darkened his gaze.

  "I've got to have my medical bag--"

  "No. I will not take you to the tomb."

  She turned her back to him.

  "Then I can't help you. You might as well leave me here. She'll die without antibiotics." Alex didn't know that for sure, but whatever it took, she had to convince him to take her to the tomb.

  Tarik paced the length of the boat several times ordering the men to row faster and faster. His gaze traveled over her and he shook his head. "I will think about it."

  "Go ahead. Think all you want. It won't change anything. If I'm to save her, I must have that bag." She hoped it was still there. Or, had she merely thought it made the journey through time with her? Alex whispered a hope-filled prayer.

  The sun fell behind the west bank of the Nile and the oarsmen continued rowing. Tarik and Alex took turns relieving the men, and the rowing continued throughout the night. As the sun's first light broke over the eastern bank, they cheered.

  "From the landmarks we have less than one day's journey."

  But rowing in the heat proved difficult, and when Tarik finally gave the order to stop, the oarsmen collapsed. Mooring the boat against the west side of the Nile, Tarik pulled Alex up from the floor and into the tent. "We are at a point near the tomb."

  "You've made your decision?" She sighed wearily and flexed her stiffened arms.

  "Nafari's life is worth ten of mine or yours. I would defy Isis, herself, to save the mother of my childhood."

  Alex gazed into his tired eyes and relief flowed through her. "Then, let's hurry. The sooner I get my bag, the sooner I can help her."

  Tarik straightened his shoulders. "Come."

  Armed with two gourds of water, Tarik led Alex from the boat. "It is not too far. Mentuhotep wished to gaze upon his beloved Nile from the west, so we do not have far to go."

  A disturbing thought crossed Alex's mind. "That first day when you found me, why did you take me all that way across the sand to Abydos?"

  A sheepish look crossed his face. "Let us say I took the longest way home."

  She fisted her hands on her hips. "That's a dirty trick, Bub."

  His reply was nothing more than a smile and he shoved her ahead of him. Together, they climbed over the dune and down toward a large rock formation. At the center was an opening. She ran forward, but he stopped her.

  "Have respect at the tomb of Mentuhotep, the Great."

  "I don't think so." Alex yanked her arm away and hurried into the opening and down the darkened shaft.

  "Wait."

  She stopped and turned.

  "We need light." He pulled an oil lamp from the workman's table and flinted it. They traveled slowly down the steep slope, deeper and deeper until they reached the main chamber. The hole to the secret room was still there.

  "It's in here, Tarik," she said climbing through.

  "Wait." He reached for her and leaned into the room.

  "It's here." Alex clutched her bag to her chest and searched through the contents. "It's all here."

  Everything was intact. Vials of antibiotics, aspirin, her stethoscope, her watch, her lipstick. Her surgical kit. Epinephrine. Everything but the scroll. She glanced around the room. "Where's the scroll?"

  "What scroll?"


  "There was a scroll here. I read from it. It was a poem or song of some sort."

  He reached into the bag and pulled out a syringe.

  "Hey! Be careful. Don't break that." She gingerly took it from him and placed it back into the case. "I need that to save Nafari."

  "Come, now." He grasped her arm. "I did as you asked. You have your bag. We must hurry. We may be too late."

  "Wait a minute." She pulled her arm free. "I want to look around."

  "There is no time for looking. Do you understand?"

  "Please. I remember a scroll." She whirled around. Nothing but sandstone and dust. If there had been one, it was gone. Yet, the golden notes still glistened on the wall. Had she dreamed the whole thing? No, the notes were the proof. A shiver washed through her. But was she still dreaming?

  "Alex, now." His voice commanded.

  She shook her head. This'd been her only chance to find a way back and she'd lost it. If there was a connection between the notes and the scroll, it didn't matter, anymore. She was stuck here in ancient Egypt and she'd better make herself useful. She thrust her hand into the warmth of Tarik's grip.

  "All right, let's take care of Nafari." She smiled broadly.

  Alex searched through the contents of her bag and pulled out her wristwatch, `Takes a licking...' How long would the battery last? `...and keeps on ticking.'

  An incredible sadness gripped her heart and knotted her insides. There was no escape. Holding a piece of her old world clarified her situation. She'd never see Northwestern, her classroom, or her father ever again. She could survive without the superficial trappings of a modern civilization. But not seeing her father, the man who'd raised her to respect life and fulfill the quest for knowledge; the man who had searched for the one great discovery that had eluded him all his life; not hearing his voice, or being the butt of his silly practical jokes, that's what would kill her.

  Four hours later, they stood by Nafari's bed. The old woman tried to sit up, but dizziness forced her back down.

  "Let's get a look at you," Alex said softly and checked her eyes. "What'd you do, get into a gang fight with Akiki?"

  The old woman glanced from Tarik's worried face to Alex. "What is a gang?"

  Alex smiled back at both of them. "Something you won't have to worry about for another four thousand years."

  Tarik eyed her warily and shook his head. "She must live." He knelt beside Nafari, and lifted her foot.

  "The ooze has swollen her foot. I'm afraid it's foulness warns that soon the leg must go. And this red line." He traced along her vein. "I fear it is filled with poison."

  "A sound diagnosis, doctor." Alex held up the syringe. "But hopefully, this..." And filled it with penicillin. "...will stop the infection."

  "Infection?" Tarik tilted his head and wrinkled his brow. "What is infection?"

  "What you call poison, we know as bacteria." She smiled. "Something that won't be discovered for thousands of years." A fist of fear slammed her solar plexus. Oh, God. I can't go around changing the past. What if I do something that jeopardizes my very existence?

  But she couldn't just stand by and let Nafari die, either.

  "ALEX, I understand you are a great healer, but your words confuse me." Tarik wasn't sure he believed what he was saying. "If you are from a place far in the distant future and will help Nafari to live, then I accept all that you are." He bowed his head. "I must believe." He straightened his shoulders. "I will believe."

  His words sounded uneasy. But he was sure of one thing. At this point in time, the only one that mattered was the woman who had been his mother for as long as he could remember and if Alex could save her....

  "Tarik, you've got to hold her down. That oozing substance is called pus, and we've got to get it out of the wound." She continued to talk in a reassuring manner to Nafari. "Can you tell me what happened?"

  Nafari cast her fever bright gaze toward the floor and closed her eyes. Tarik thought she'd lost consciousness until her eyes fluttered open and she spoke. "I--I threw a container of--of dung at Akiki. It broke and I stepped on a shard."

  "You what?" they both cried in unison.

  "He told me you had been bitten by Set, the sworn enemy of Isis, and have not been yourself since Alex has been among us."

  Tarik crossed his arms and sat down on the bed. "Go on, Nafari. What else did that hyena say?"

  "He said she cast a great spell on you, and you would lose favor with Pharaoh. Oooh...aaaow."

  Alex jabbed Nafari with the pointed dart she called a syringe and again reached into her bag. Soon bottles and bandages were strewn across the bed. Akiki was a fool and should be punished for his evil tongue. Yet, he had not been far from the truth. Like Isis, herself, Alex had cast a spell on him. But not the kind Akiki thought.

  "The shards were contaminated with dung," Alex said. "That's bad. There's a special bacteria--let's see." She tapped the side of her head. "We call it a germ, or a bug." She shook her head at Tarik. "Whatever! This made Nafari sick."

  "What about this special bacteria, or germ, or bug, or whatever?"

  A smile chased the worry in her eyes but quickly vanished. "It's bad. E-coli is very bad. It'll be touch and go for a while, but if the streak vanishes..."

  "She will be healed?" His heart was heavy with hope. Surely Isis would hear his prayer and guide Alex in her ministrations to Nafari.

  He'd seen and heard much these past few days. But he also knew word of Alex's skill would spread throughout Egypt and she would be hailed as a great healer of wounds, giver of life, protector of Egypt. She would be a prize no pharaoh would ever turn down. His thoughts darkened. He would surely lose her now.

  THROUGHOUT the long day they ministered to Nafari. Seta ran back and forth bringing fresh linens to rebandage wounds and change bedding. Finally, well after dusk, Nafari's fever broke and she settled into a fitful sleep.

  "Seta, don't forget to change that bandage as soon as this one is damp."

  "Yes Alex." Seta nodded and wiped a cool cloth across Nafari's brow.

  Alex stretched her sore muscles, sauntered down the hallway, and crossed over the threshold into the courtyard. A hot shower would've felt great. Although the hot part was out, a cool one would be refreshing. But she couldn't resist the courtyard. Lingering a while, trailing her fingers through the waters, and opening her arms to the cool breeze that drifted across the desert was too inviting. Alex sat down at the edge of the reflecting pool and leaned forward.

  In the soft moonlit glow, with her beaded, braided hair, and her white linen dress, she could pass for a native. At least, a romanticist's version of one. She loved this garden with its exotic ferns and foliage, its colorful hibiscus and orchids, and its statues of Tarik's goddess. Alex traced her finger over the carved alabaster figure of Isis.

  "What secret power do you hold over Tarik?" she whispered. A light breeze sang through the palms and its melody filled her soul.

  "Tell me." The statue stood mutely in the moonlight. "Why does his nearness affect me so...." She lifted her face toward the wind's caress. "Is it a warm puff of air or the heat of his touch?"

  "Perhaps it is the way his heart aches when he is near you?" Tarik's deep voice whispered back to her.

  Her breath caught and she turned slowly. Her eyes melded with his. "Does it?"

  His gaze dark as onyx drifted over her and her cheeks burned.

  "I thought I was alone," she said softly.

  He studied her for a long moment. An intensity smoldered in his eyes. "You are alone no longer."

  He bent and brushed his lips over hers. "It is said that the gods are known to visit earth and conjoin with those who would beget them."

  She stared up at him. "How does one recognize a god?"

  "The essence of the world of those who live forever lingers in the eyes--" He traced his finger along the side of her face. "--and in the heated blush that kisses the skin." His finger trailed down her neck, over the hollow of her throat, and down the valley of her bre
asts. An uncontrollable shiver washed over her, as if electricity flowed from his body into hers.

  "...and in the beating of the heart."

  Her mind whirled from the aura surrounding her. He was close, too close to her center of comfort. He smelled of sun and desert and man. Would his lips taste as good as his scent? Her heart pounded in her ears and her pulse raced. She pulled her gaze from his and shuddered in an effort to regain the control she was so close to losing. What had he done to her? She stepped back, turned toward the vista of the garden, and forced a casual note to her voice. "This place is lovely. I wish I could stay here forever."

  He stepped behind her, the heat of his solid body permeated hers, his voice a caress against her ear.

  "It is you who bring loveliness to my garden." His lips grazed her neck and her throat constricted at the need of his touch. Heat forced its way to her very core.

  "Perhaps Isis sent you to test me...?"

  "I--I don't...." Her words caught and she turned to meet his burning gaze.

  "You are a gift sent from Isis and I will ask no further of her."

  "I wish...."

  His lips covered her face, her neck, her throat, and across the swell of her breasts. His tongue invaded her mouth and her stomach fluttered. Frantic for the taste of him, she returned his kiss. Blood surged through her veins blocking all reasonable thought.

  "Be careful, Alex, she may grant your wish."

  She drew back and stared until sure of the passion in his eyes. "Which one?"

  "That you may share--"

  His lips covered hers sweeping her into a maelstrom of ageless sensation and timeless emotion. Her laboring heart beat out a rhythm older than the pyramids, yet her soul was as new as tomorrow.

  "...in the gods' delights."

  He pulled her against his swollen desire and she gasped at the heat of his searing flesh.

  "Oh, Tarik," her breath came in rapid spurts.

  "Even the gods smile at you...."

  He dipped his head and flicked his tongue across her sensitive nipples. Alex groaned and locked her fingers in his soft curls. His determined hands tore the folds of the loose linen sheath from her shoulders and it fluttered to the floor. His lips traveled down her neck and a barrage of tactile sensation overwhelmed her.