The Cult of Sutek

by Joshua P. Simon

  Andrasta blinked away her thoughts, noticing Nizam’s pure white eyes watching her closely. She cursed herself for being distracted.

  Andrasta averted her eyes from Nizam so as not to draw any more attention to herself. As much as the riches tempted, her goal was still to find Dendera.

  The bodyguard lost interest in her.

  “Is everything ready, captain?” asked Menetnashte.

  Haji stepped forward. “Yes. I had Dakarai round up servants to bathe and prepare the virgins for tomorrow’s ceremony.”

  “Excellent.”

  The captain cleared his throat. “High Priest, if I may be so bold, I wanted to say how much of an honor it has been to serve under you. Though you have not been with us long, you have led us to places my father told me were lost forever.”

  Andrasta fought not to roll her eyes at the blatant attempt to flatter. She had known many people like Haji when she had trained under her master. She hated every one of them.

  “Nothing is lost forever. Your father, like so many others, lost faith and became complacent. I simply provided the spark we’ve been seeking.” Menetnashte smiled knowingly.

  “Even still, I cannot wait to fully bring back the old ways.”

  Menetnashte walked around the table, studying the captain. “Yes. I can see that. A thought occurred to me. It was you who grabbed Horus’s daughter, was it not?”

  “Yes, but only after following Thabit’s plan.”

  “Thabit,” spat Menetnashte. “I had hope for him, but in the end he failed Sutek with carelessness. He should have left with you and Horus’s daughter. Grabbing Dendera right under her father’s nose was marvelous.”

  “It was nothing. We simply did Sutek’s will.”

  “Even still, it occurs to me that you might be just the sort of man I had hoped to find in Thabit. Come, I think Sutek would approve of you and your men selecting the virgins you will take in his name. Consider it a reward for your loyalty.”

  The captain bowed low. “As Sutek wills, I obey.”

  “Good.” He called over his shoulder. “Nizam. Door.”

  The big bodyguard glided around the desk and opened the door. His eyes returned to Andrasta as they left the room.

  * * *

  Rondel walked casually down the tunnel like he belonged there, puffing his chest out and throwing his head back. As a performer, he never confined himself to only his music, dabbling in acting and dance as well. He had no doubt that he could find the right attitude of an arrogant warrior who demanded respect.

  Gods, I practically live with one, he quipped to himself.

  The two guards outside of the closed door shifted their stance, eyeing him warily. His stomach knotted, but he managed to put on an air of authority.

  Rondel came to a halt, temporarily distracted by singing from inside the door.

  Focus.

  He pretended to clear his throat, but in fact was closing off part of his nose and throat before he spoke in order to mask his accent. “Open the door.”

  The guards exchanged a glance. The one on the left responded. “No one is allowed inside.”

  “I was given orders from High Priest Menetnashte to make sure all was well.”

  “Where are these orders?”

  Rondel sighed. “He did not write them down. He wanted me here as soon as possible.”

  The eyes of the guard narrowed. “Why?”

  “You question the will of the high priest? Am I going to have to fetch someone to enforce Menetnashte’s commands?”

  The two looked at each other again, hesitant.

  “Nizam?” asked the guard.

  Rondel recalled the name from discussions with Jahi. He nodded.

  A bead of sweat ran down the man’s brow. He stepped aside and opened the door.

  The loud singing grew in volume at first before fading to nothing as Rondel walked inside and the door closed behind him. He was unprepared for what he saw.

  One hundred young and beautiful faces. Some held fear, though most carried a look of hatred or disgust. He scanned the room, trying to examine them all quickly. “I’m looking for Dendera.”

  No one gave an answer.

  “By the gods,” he whispered in frustration. He walked up to the nearest woman and grabbed her by the arm. “Where is Dendera? Quickly.”

  The woman shied away under his grasp, yelping.

  “Let her go, you piece of garbage,” came a voice. “I’m right here. What do you want?”

  The women parted and Dendera came forward. Rondel lowered the cloth covering his face and smiled, surprised he actually managed to find the girl first.

  She gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. We came to get you out.”

  “You and Andrasta?”

  “And your brother.”

  Her face turned to one of horror. “You brought Jahi to this hell?”

  “It was his idea.”

  “What?”

  “All right, a quick summary. Your father was hurt badly when you were kidnapped. They arrested us for it all. Jahi broke us out and hired us to find you.”

  “But, he’s just a boy.”

  “He’s shown us his talents.”

  “Really? Well, where is he? And Andrasta?”

  “I don’t know. We had to split up to find you.”

  “You left him alone? What if he gets hurt? What if—”

  Rondel raised a hand, cutting her off. This was not going as he had expected. He thought Dendera would be distraught and grateful to see him. “We really don’t have time for this. We’re supposed to meet back up at a point we came upon earlier.” He took her by the hand, mind already working a lie to tell the guards for why he was taking one of the women from the chamber. “C’mon. We need to get going before someone calls the bluff I made in order to see you.”

  She jerked her hand away. “What about the others?”

  “The others?” Rondel looked around once more at the young faces. The fear and anger had faded slightly with hope and excitement taking their place. “You can’t be serious? You know how hard it’s going to be just getting you out of here. There’s no way I can hope to sneak this many people out.”

  Heads hung as their slight hope disappeared.

  “I can’t just leave them. Princess Oni is here.”

  “What?”

  “Yes,” said another girl walking up from the back. “I’m here.”

  “That’s why the Emperor has been acting so strange,” Dendera said. “Menetnashte has been using her as a bargaining tool.”

  Rondel swore. Leading two women away, especially when both were well-known, important figures was going to make his task next to impossible. But returning the Emperor’s daughter to Akor would sever any hesitancy Chuma might have for interceding on Horus’s behalf.

  “All right. Her as well. But no more.”

  “That’s not acceptable. You have no idea what they plan to do to—”

  “I do. It’s awful. I know. But we’re here to save your life, not perform miracles. If we try to take everyone with us, we’ll all die.”

  “But—”

  Rondel was ready to cut Dendera off again, slapping some sense into her if needed, but another girl came forward. She looked older than the others, more confident.

  “He’s right. You and Oni must leave without us. Your fathers have the power to stop this cult. Ours do not.”

  “I don’t want you to give up, Nailah.”

  “No one said we were. We still have a way to fight back,” she said, producing a slim sliver of rock that had been sharpened to a dangerous point.

  Rondel started in surprise. “Where did you get that?”

  “We made it,” Dendera said, as if that explained everything.

  Nailah continued. “Like your friend said, the guards will be suspicious of you leaving. You will need a distraction.” She turned to Rondel. “We were planning to use these before the Heka as a way to fight back. Let us leave with you
and we’ll all take separate paths and create as much chaos as we can so that no one even notices you leaving.”

  Dendera spoke softly. “But that’s suicide.”

  “It isn’t much different than our plan for the Heka. The only difference is that we have a greater purpose than simply ruining a ritual.”

  Oni put a hand on Dendera’s arm. “She’s right.”

  “I know, it’s just. . . .”

  The door opened again and Rondel hurriedly covered his face. A line of tan-robed boys shuffled inside. Heads down, they carried buckets of water, fresh white robes, bottles of scented oil, and towels.

  One of the guards from earlier peeked inside. Rondel acknowledged him with his best icy stare. The guard lingered a moment, then disappeared behind the closed door.

  “Jahi!” Dendera’s hushed voice rang out.

  One of the tan-robed figures had thrown back his hood. Jahi embraced his sister in a hug. They exchanged quiet words.

  Talk about convenient. Maybe if I wait another minute Andrasta will peek inside with an army behind her so we can just walk out of this place.

  Rondel stepped in. “I hate to break this up, but we really need to leave.”

  “What about Andrasta?” said Jahi.

  “We’ll wait for her at the meeting point. But the longer we stay here, the more likely we’ll be discovered.” Jahi started to open his mouth, but Rondel cut him off. “I know you have questions, but we don’t have time to answer them now. We’ve already talked things through. I need you to trust me.”

  “All right.”

  “Keep your head down and play up the servant garb whenever you can. Remember what Andrasta said and don’t expose yourself until you have to.” He touched the pouches at his side and the sack in his hand, which housed the clay containers of chemicals. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll need every trick we can think of to get out of here.” He showed them one of the containers. “Some of the tricks will be a bit louder than others.”

  * * *

  Jahi listened to the last of the plan. He had to admit for someone who had little experience in what they were doing, Rondel seemed fairly calm and in control.

  Jahi tied some loose binding around Dendera and Oni’s wrists, enough to give the appearance they were bound, but something they could also remove easily. While he did this, Rondel told the rest of the girls what role they would play.

  “Once we subdue the guards by the door, run out in small groups of three to five. This will allow you to watch each other’s backs. Don’t all go in the same direction otherwise the cultists will bottle you up and trap you. Once out, do whatever you can to cause chaos. Pick up the cultists’ weapons if possible. Kill. Maim. Scream. Start fires. Barricade doors and passageways.” Rondel paused, appearing guilty for instructions that was setting them all up to die. “Open doors where you hear things locked behind them. Anything. After you do, try to get to the large cavern by the altars. There’s a second level. That’s where our meeting point is. We’ll wait as long as we can.”

  Surprisingly, the servants were eager to get involved as well. Apparently, those that displeased the cultists were the ones sacrificed on the bloody altars.

  Rondel passed out several clay containers he had hidden in his sack to the servants. Jahi could tell he hated parting with such weapons.

  “So many boys and girls eager to die for us,” whispered Jahi. “It’s hard to imagine.”

  “Not if you’ve lived here as long as we have,” said Oni. “You’ve only seen a portion of the horrors. Everyone here is willing to do whatever they can to make sure others don’t suffer similar fates.”

  “Why did it take so long to do something then?”

  “We tried many times before and failed. We lost hope. Your sister gave us the hope we needed to try again.”

  Jahi looked to Dendera. “Yeah, she does have a way of needling you into something.”

  “I heard that,” Dendera said across the room, speaking with the muscular girl called Nailah.

  “Ready?” asked Rondel.

  Jahi nodded.

  The former minstrel took a long, slow breath. Jahi saw for the first time how much he was struggling to keep it together. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Rondel walked over to the door and knocked. It squealed open.

  “You were in there for a long time,” said one of the guards. “I thought you said you were in a hurry.”

  “I am, but some things took longer than expected.” Rondel pulled Dendera and Oni behind him as he stepped outside.

  Jahi eased his way out last.

  “Wait. What are you doing?” the guard asked while looking Oni and Dendera over.

  “Are we going to do this again?” asked Rondel, coldly. Jahi was surprised at how well he muddled his voice, hiding most of his accent. “I told you my orders are straight from Menetnashte. They are not to be shared.”

  “It’s one thing to go into the chambers, but another thing to take someone out. Only Nizam has done that.”

  Rondel shrugged. “Well, I guess Nizam was busy. Who am I to question our high priest? And for that matter, who are you to do so? I’m sure he wouldn’t like hearing how you’ve tried to stop me from carrying out his will.”

  The two guards exchanged a glance.

  Rondel whipped out his sword and skewered one of them through the chest. Oni let out a small gasp and Jahi pulled her and Dendera out of the way of the fighting. The second guard stepped back, hand moving toward his sword. Rondel pressed him and after two quick moves, opened the man’s throat.

  He actually looked like a seasoned soldier.

  Rondel wiped his sword, taking several calming breaths. “Let them out,” he told Jahi.

  Women and servants streamed out of the room in small groups. Two stopped and snatched up the swords of the guardsmen, discarding their sharp stones in the process. Two others attempted to quickly strip the bodies and adorn themselves in the cultists’ attire.

  “Stop! What’s going on?”

  Jahi wheeled. Seven men ran toward them from one side of the tunnel. His eyes widened when he saw Menetnashte and his massive bodyguard among the group. Over a dozen young women and several servants charged Menetnashte. Dendera’s voice rose above the sudden clamor trying to calm a panicked Oni.

  Jahi grabbed them both by their arms, pulling them behind Rondel who was shouting for them to hurry.

  They ran off amidst the mob infiltrating the tunnels.

  Chapter 18

  Andrasta kept her head on a swivel while walking toward the chamber of virgins, trying to get her bearings in the underground labyrinth. She knew her skills would be put to the test while trying to make her way with Dendera back to the predetermined meeting point.

  One step at a time. Get the girl first.

  They rounded a bend in the tunnel, welcomed by the rushing sound of frantic footsteps, and a sea of hushed whispers.

  “Stop! What’s going on?” asked the captain.

  A wave of young women in loose white robes and boys in tan sprinted toward them with crude weapons of sharpened stone. She saw someone dressed in black and gray garb run away while leading two women and a boy. They took a sharp left and disappeared down a side tunnel.

  That’s got to be them.

  The man next to Andrasta drew steel and Menetnashte wheeled on him. “Do not kill the girls! They’re needed for the ceremony.”

  Andrasta ignored the comment, drawing her own sword.

  “You heard the high priest,” said the cultist next to her.

  “I did. I don’t plan on killing any of them.”

  She ran him through, cracking several ribs on its way to the heart. She yanked the blade free. A gout of blood poured out of the open cavity. Two other cultists turned on her with wide eyes.

  “What—”

  Andrasta stopped the question on his lips with a hack to his neck. She sliced through the side of another just as the wave of young girls slammed into the rest of them, bringing with the
m a scent of lavender.

  A demonic growl ripped through the air. She looked up as Nizam shielded Menetnashte from the attackers. The beast of a man broke the wrists of several girls while snatching away their rocks. He took a slash along the arm without flinching. Behind Nizam, Menetnashte stood with his back against the wall, staring intensely at the madness.

  Andrasta felt a shift in the air, her legs suddenly weary. The smell of old death crept into her nostrils. She shook her head violently, recognizing a spell being cast.

  Of course, you fool. The high priest would know sorcery.

  Andrasta used the distractions of sorcery and physical violence to flee, running back the way they had come. Shouts of anger echoed after her.

  * * *

  Confusion. Anarchy. Disorder. Chaos. Mayhem. Pandemonium.

  Yes. Pandemonium. That’s the word. Sheer pandemonium.

  Rondel finally found the right word to describe the uprising of girls and servants against the Cult of Sutek. He felt a bit of satisfaction in doing so, like he once did when completing a particularly tricky verse in a song he was writing.

  But finishing a verse was nothing like the satisfaction of watching a cultist die at the hands of a servant with a sword.

  The satisfaction was swept away with the sword that bit into the face of a young girl carrying a hatchet. Blood splashed against the stone wall, fluid choking off the scream trying to come forth from her hacked jaw.

  Rondel halted as three cultists exited a tunnel to his right. They froze at the sight of Dendera and Oni. The three men looked ragged, wearing only parts of their standard, boiled-leather armor and black clothing, as though they had just been sleeping. All three bled from shallow cuts on the arms, chest, and legs.

  “You managed to take two alive?” one asked with quick breaths.

  “Yes.”

  “Better than us. Two of the whores caught us in our sleep. Killed three others. We had to gut them just to get them off of us.”

  “I was lucky,” said Rondel, once more trying to mask his accent. He gestured to Jahi. “And I had help.”

  They eyed Jahi warily. “Be careful. We heard the servants are involved as well. Likely how the virgins got out.”