by Crymsyn Hart
The little, white sprites hung back. Sonia opened her arms, and energy embraced Darria. Small arrows of light moved from her fingertips, aimed at the dark pixies. The arrows hit them, and they burst into silver flames. The light pixies cheered. Once the dark pixies realized that Sonia was no longer afraid of them, they screamed in terror and swarmed out of the church.
“Thank you. They won’t bother me anymore.”
“Good. Do you think you’re ready to come back with me?” Darria asked.
“I don’t know,” Sonia said to one of the sprites. “I’ll ask. They want to know if they can come, too.”
Darria glanced at the sprites and felt their eagerness. “That’s fine,” she answered. “But you can’t cause any mischief inside the house. We have others staying there, so if you’re going to move in, you’ll have to make it so they can see you, too. Deal?”
The sprites all babbled at once. She glanced at Sonia.
“They said all that was fine, but they wanted to know if you had a garden. They love nature, so they would prefer to live or at least stay there while I’m there. You never know; some may want to remain.”
“Sure, you can set up in the garden, but no tricks. Things are a little hectic right now. Best behavior.”
They twittered among themselves. A larger pixie flitted over to Darria. She had on a dress made of moss and handed Darria a single stalk of a lily of the valley with its light purple bells. She took the flower and placed it on her left arm on an open space. It sunk into her flesh, where she could pull it out later. “Heffla says they’ll abide by your rules until the balance has been righted. They want permission to make the garden a home while I’m there.”
“I can deal with that. I’m not much of a gardener, so you can have a go at it. No cultivating anything that will want to eat me or any of my people, though.”
Heffla nodded and flitted back to Sonia.
“Wonderful. We agree on everything. Can we get going back to the house now?” Marie asked.
“We can go.”
Sonia smiled. Darria went to the front of the church and took out her key. She pulled both doors closed and inserted the key into the keyhole. When she opened the door again, she was staring into the kitchen. “After you.”
Sonia and Marie went before her and a whole train of sprites. When she pulled the door shut, it was the screen door from her kitchen. Darria enjoyed the quiet of the house. Sonia looked around. The sprites headed out back in a horde to the apartment. They came back out and pulled Sonia toward it. “They want to know if it’s okay to stay here. It’s away from death, so it’s better for them.”
“I’m okay with that, but do they realize that you’re going to be dealing with dead bodies yourself?”
“They know, but here, it’s darker and heavier than what they’re used to.” Sonia started toward the back when she stopped and unwound from the sprites’ grasp. She turned back around and hugged Darria. “Thank you. I know it doesn’t seem like what you are doing is making a difference, but it really is. I’ve been lost for a long time. Sprites are good company and look out for me, but their world is not human. I’ve forgotten some things, so if I don’t act right, forgive me. You’ve brought me back onto the path I was supposed to be on.”
Darria’s heart filled. “You’re welcome. Go ahead and get comfortable. Someone will be around here if you need anything.”
Marie returned to the kitchen. Her complexion was drawn. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced.
“You okay?”
She waved her off and wobbled over to the table, where she sat down. “I just need some rest. I had a vision of Legba. He wanted me to tell you that all the undertakers have been put to rest as promised. He said now it’s time to unlock Omar.” Marie slumped in the chair. Another poppy on her arm had withered. She was fading fast. Whatever her deal was with Legba went back to even before she was an undertaker.
“How long have you been around?” she asked, wanting to understand more about the other woman. “What was the price you paid to Legba?”
“Longer than the stars, it seems. Papa Legba went by another name then, and life was much simpler. As a child, we only worshipped one true god, until he broke apart. Then the world expanded, and death took on new names. My mother taught me about the dead and the ways of the shaman. She was an undertaker. Invaders came to our village. They slew my mother and did horrible things to me. I may come back in a different body, but when I reach a certain age, my memories flood back, as does renewing my agreement with Legba. I can refuse, of course, and let the length of my years and knowledge fade away. But,” she spread her arms wide and sighed, “I like my life and what I’ve retained. Now the cycle ends, and another one begins. Some memories I can’t unlock. My payment to him is that I am his. He molds me. Body. Soul. He could not stop me from being an undertaker, though. He yearns to have me by his side again, so I can be his slave for a little while until he gets sick of me once more.”
“Does he treat you horribly?”
“No. He’s good to me most of the time. Other times, he can be a beast. That’s why I cautioned you to be careful. He can rope words and hold promises, dangling them before you like jewels, always asking for more. Watch yourself. The rose shows that he favors you. That favor can go a long way in certain circles. Don’t let him talk you into anything unless you get his word first. Please tell me you did before you made any demands of him.”
Darria nodded. “I did. I made him swear to answer my questions. His price was a dance and a taste of my soul.”
Her eyebrows raised. “He didn’t take any of it?”
“No. Then he gave me the rose. Should I be worried?”
“Keep an eye on him. He thinks he can have anyone, but he has a darker side. Don’t get on it. He loves to dance verbally, literally, and figuratively. My advice is to keep him dancing.”
Darria rose from the table. Her thoughts turned to Omar. “Thank you. I appreciate the warning. I’m going to see about unlocking Omar. Will you explain about Sonia and her friends to the others if they come back?”
“Of course.”
Darria went up to her office and sat in the silence and the heaviness that came with it. It helped to recharge her drained batteries. She ran her fingers over the rearranged flowers on her right arm and saw how they sparked. She could feel the magic now when she concentrated on the flowers. They said all she had to do was listen to nature, and she could refill her lost reserves. Even Marie had talked about it. She would have to work on that. Next, she took the lily of the valley from her left arm and placed it on her desk. The scent filled the room.
She unlocked the drawer Omar was in and pulled out the withered hand. It had sustained damage from the fight, but she wasn’t sure how she could unlock him. She had already pulled him from the drawer. How she could pull memories from the hand without asking the spirit who was attached to it? She ran her fingers over the key. Something nagged at her. The key could unlock anything. The demigods had said that a rogue necro had taken out three undertakers before. They let her know that small bit of history to warn her about them putting the hit on killing her because they didn’t want anyone powerful to take them over. They were essentially part of death, so she could technically try to influence them, too.
However, she wanted to have a life and not be at the whim of the gods. She understood why they viewed her as a threat. If her power had not been brought under control, it could have done bad things. She could have done bad things. The order of things would have to change if Darria survived this. Darria poked Omar but felt nothing ping back. The link was broken. She tapped him with the key and, again, felt nothing. Frustration overwhelmed her.
There had to be an answer.
Then, it dawned on her.
She had tried to go back in her recollections but never made it all the way back in her memories of the other undertakers. Her reminiscences of the early days were blurry. The key could unlock those memories. Darria closed her eyes, held
the key, and visualized the memories. Her mind became a long hall with numerous doors; all of them had on them the names of the undertakers who had come before her. The first one was Abner’s. She placed her hand on the door and thought about delving into them. However, other things were more important. She walked down the hall and slowly went by the doors. The further back she went, the hotter her palm grew until it burned.
She stopped. To her left was a stone door like one she would have thought to see on an ancient tomb. It had one name on it.
Omar.
Chapter 14
Omar had been an undertaker in his time, and he had lost his life doing it. Through time or whatever other tragedies, his left hand was the only piece of him that had survived. Guess you were around when the last attack on the gods and the undertakers happened. What can you tell me? She took a deep breath and touched the key to the stone door. It made a keyhole and slipped inside the door. Darria wrestled to turn it. Something didn’t want her to open the door. She placed her hand on the door and sensed a barrier. Darria struggled to twist the iron key until it seemed it would snap. Placing her hand on the door, she pushed with all her might.
Nothing would stop her from getting into Omar’s memories.
“Open up, damn you. You answer to me and not to whoever sealed you closed.” Darria calmed her mind and touched the part of her that was an undertaker. The energy crackled down her arm and around the poppies. It flashed across the door; the key seared her fingers, but she did not stop. Whatever magic held it in place was strong, but she was stronger. Sweat slid down her nose from the effort. It was like she was trying to push the stone uphill. She squeezed her eyes shut and put all of her magic behind it. Within her mind, she saw it cracking. Whoever had put the wall around this door of memories didn’t want anyone to enter into it. Had the uprising been so bad that the demigods didn’t want the knowledge shared with anyone else?
Something popped in her mind, and the wall cracked. Darria opened her eyes.
The key turned.
Stones ground against one another until the door swung open. The acrid scent of dry earth and stale air blasted over her. The massive gust forced sand into her eyes and mouth. Darria removed the key and placed it back on her arm. She couldn’t see anything. Torches popped to life. This might have been in her mind, but it all felt real. She took one of the torches and walked further into the stone chamber. Massive paintings of the god Anubis and other Egyptian deities were etched onto the walls and the pillars. In the center of the room was a stone sarcophagus. Darria couldn’t make out most of what it said until she came to a cartouche that had the name of the occupant in the coffin.
Khusebek. Priest and helper of Anubis.
“I thought your name was Omar,” Darria whispered as her fingers traced the carvings. It dawned on her that she was reading ancient Egyptian.
“Omar was always my nickname. I liked it better.”
Darria spun around. Omar leaned on one of the columns. “You’re back.” She rushed over and pulled him into a hug.
“Where have I gone, undertaker?” He pulled out of her embrace.
Darria eyed him. He was the same thin man she had seen before, although now, he was dressed in a white shenti wrapped around his waist that reminded her more of a kilt with a leopard-skin sash across his chest. He had a gold armband along his upper left bicep. Across his left pec was a tattoo of a blue scarab. His black hair was short around his ears, and yet, his eyes were the same ones she had looked into when she had seen him in the other world. “You’re not the Omar I know.”
His face twisted up into a smile. “Ahh ... you must be referring to a physical part of me. I am a reflection of that me. Do you need a guide through these recollections?”
It was clear now that he was the physical manifestation of the memories she was in. “I need to know about certain events. A rogue necromancer and the undertakers being killed?”
He stroked his chin. “These things are not for discussion.”
“You might be a shade of Omar, but you’re still bound to the undertaker line. Whoever sealed off these memories didn’t want me to break through them and know what’s been going on. Six undertakers were killed. I’m the only one who survived. I carry their relics on my arm.” She held out her left arm, so he could see it.
The specter came forward and studied her arm. Omar wavered in and out until he was solid once more. “You carry these when they should be on the arms of other undertakers.”
Her brows furrowed. This was not the man she knew. This was only another shade to keep her from moving on, another barrier for her to get past. She gathered her energy and flung it at the phantasm. It shrieked and faded away. The lid of the coffin banged down. She walked over and pushed the stone away. When she did, another vision of Omar popped up.
“Thanks. I never thought I’d get out of there. Wow, look at you, toots. Who sent you, and where I can get me some?” Omar whistled.
She giggled. This was the man she knew. “Have you always had a silver tongue?”
He stuck out his tongue. “Nope. Not silver. I could make it silver for you.” He hopped out of the coffin and glanced down at the contents of the box. “A fucking mummy! They mummified me. Damn it. I told them to burn me. Stupid priests never listen. Don’t they know I was a helper of Anubis? I’m an undertaker, for gods’ sake.” He straightened his kilt and turned back to Darria. “How can I be of service to such a lovely lady?”
“It says on your tomb that your name is Khusebek.”
Omar trembled at the sound of the name and spat on the sand. “I’ve always hated that name. Forgive me for being so vile.”
“You haven’t changed.” This wasn’t exactly her familiar but, still, a part of Omar.
“I see we’re acquainted beyond this tomb. What can I do for you?”
“I’m here seeking your advice about something happening in my time that I think relates to something in yours.”
“I’m at your service. What wonders can I reveal to you?”
“Two members of the gods’ council bade me to find the undertakers they went to. I’m doing that. I’m also a necromancer, and they said an uprising occurred once before with a powerful necromancer who tried to turn the world on its head. I suspect this is how you ended up in the coffin. I need to know what happened. Can you show me these things?”
“What you say troubles my heart, but yes, I can show you these events. Take my hand, and I will lead you through these memories to when it all began.” He held out his left hand. She noticed that he had a gold ring on his middle finger with an oval on the front of it and symbols etched into it. They blurred for a moment, and then, she could read it.
“Khusebek, Royal Undertaker and Servant of Anubis.”
“Pharaoh gave that to me. It’s one of my prized possessions.”
“It’s nice. I’ve never seen it before.”
“If we’re acquainted, then how is it you haven’t seen it before?”
“It must have gotten lost through time.”
Omar’s expression saddened. “Oh well, that can happen.”
Darria took his hand. Omar led her out of the tomb. The sunlight blinded her until her eyes adjusted. As Darria surveyed the landscape, she found she was surrounded by arid desert, sand, and stone. The sun was high overhead but yet, in the distance, was a hooded figure. She tried to go closer, but Omar stopped her.
“You can’t get closer; I could not. The necro came to the Valley of the Kings to the temple of Anubis. The priests in the temple felt death coming, but I sensed something else. It was darker. It was like rocks weighing on my soul, colder than even death. I went to investigate, but when I got to the mouth of the tomb, something awakened.” Omar pointed to the cloaked figure.
Bodies pushed through the sand until they encircled the dark figure. All were mummies reborn from the desert. The sands stirred into whirlwinds and reformed into bodies until there were thousands of them surrounding the necromancer. Even within the memory
, Darria sensed the dark power of this other being. It was one to rival her own.
Beneath the sands was an army, and he was still calling forth more.
“My God. I didn’t think anyone could resurrect bodies from dirt and ash. I witnessed it in my kitchen, but seeing it on this scale is terrifying and amazing.”
“He’s a powerful one. How do you think I died?” Omar gave her a half-hearted chuckle.
The army of the dead bowed before the necromancer. Something moved behind her. More corpses shuffled from the crypts. They were lifeless corpses without their spirits attached to them. They didn’t seem to notice what was happening around them.
“What did you do after you saw the army rise?” Darria asked.
The world rushed by, and she found herself standing before another undertaker. “Master, you will never believe what I’ve seen. The dead have been raised in the Valley of the Kings. A powerful necromancer is advancing on the temple with a horde of corpses.” He pleaded with his superior. The other Darria didn’t appear to take him seriously.
“You were an assistant. You weren’t even the undertaker,” Darria commented.
“I was so. I didn’t say how long I lasted as an undertaker. Watch,” Omar replied.
“Another one of your lofty tales, Omar. How many times have I told you that those yarns won’t make it easy to become an undertaker? You have to take this job seriously for the gods to hear you. They barely answer our calls now, no matter how many bodies we process for Anubis to take the souls across. His helpers seem to not care about the undertakers they have instilled. We grow further apart as the years go by, each getting pulled in their own direction. What will happen in the future when we need to communicate with one another? I’ve been doing this job for....”
“Yes, I know. You’ve been doing this job for over five hundred years, and things have gone to crocodiles. Now is not the time. Don’t you feel it, Master? The charge in the air. The darkness.”