by D.A. Dean
Chapter 33: A Dangerous Test
Alone in his temple, Horus closed his eyes and released a slow breath. How was he to create what Mehlchehsia had seen? How could he imbue any weapon with power to match his father's?
Suddenly, he saw himself sitting, legs under, Kafar's sword in his hand, Flame beside him. The sword's curve had been straightened. He was the one who'd done it. But he had more still to do.
The vision ended.
He turned inward, concentrating, trying to make the vision resume. The image was gone. "Rot." He sighed hard then shook his head. Frustration would get him nowhere. And at least, rather than witnessing horrors, he'd received guidance, however fleeting.
He hurried to the temple door and called to Teo, standing nearby. "I need you, Nalia, Maeta, and Petraylia to delegate the duties I gave you. I require your counsel." He returned to his mat, withdrew Kafar's sword, and, gazing at it in puzzlement, waited.
Those requested entered. Maeta's gaze was cool. "You amended an order, O King. Your reason?"
Horus gave a curt nod. "I need information. I was told I possess the Sword of Horus. Now, I need to figure—"
"Who told you this?" Maeta interrupted.
"Mehlchehsia. In the village. It seems I can move through time. No idea how I did it. But I was able to speak with her, twice, and hear her message. The shock and pain of seeing her death brought me back to the present. I tried to go back, to find a way to prevent her death, change things for the villagers. I couldn't."
Maeta glanced at Petraylia and moistened her lips. "I see." She was silent a moment. "And what did you learn?"
"Speaking with her? A lot I don't understand yet. The pertinent point is, as I said, she told me I had no need of my father's sword because I possess my own, or, rather, the Sword of Horus. I can only assume that means I create it. How? I need you four to share your knowledge. Guesses, too, if you have any."
Petraylia tapped her knees and gave her head a bob. "That's what I saw, too. Your sword. I didn't understand. Now I do. How wonderful. O King, it's, or will be, dazzlingly beautiful. And very intimidating," she added.
"Don't suppose you saw how it came into being?"
"Mm, no." Petraylia turned to Maeta.
Maeta said, "Creating a sword is a a complicated matter. First, you must have metal, and the amount must be sufficient. Next, you must have the proper tools, but since humans haven't yet made weapons of metal, those tools don't exist here. If you don't wish or have the materials and means to create a sword, you, a god, have the option of transforming another and then empowering it."
"Hm. Right." Horus lifted the sword he held. "I chose to transform Kafar's sword. So, how do I—"
"The sword you hold is the one awarded to Kafar? The one with which he was meant to kill you?" Maeta hissed. She gave Nalia an accusatory stare. "I should have been informed of this."
"Why?" Horus asked, glancing between them. "What's the problem?"
Maeta answered, "The problem, O King—no. The sword you now hold, placing yourself at risk, must be destroyed. I will do it myself. After, if you still wish to transform a sword, you will select another. Give me the weapon." Standing, she held out her hand.
Horus shook his head. "Kafar is dead. I killed him. Whatever power the sword has, either it wasn't intended to help him, which would make no sense, or I overcame its power. So, it seems to me..." he trailed off, Maeta lowering her hand, her breathing becoming labored. "You okay? Maeta?"
Softly, as if to herself, Maeta said, "He might not have selected Kafar before he made the sword. Still," she stopped, turned her gaze between Petraylia and Nalia, and sat. "O King, I acknowledge the enormity of this. However," she said and clasped her hands, "this sword is, and as long as it exists will always be, a threat to you."
"No. This is the sword I choose. For Kafar's sake, I want something good to come from it. And, if Seht created the sword, intending it to be the instrument of my death, then, it seems to me, this is exactly the sword I should transform. If I succeed—"
"This is foolishness. Would you allow your stubbornness and desire for mercy for one scarcely deserving to place you in such grave danger? For that's what the attempt you propose will do. Has it not occurred to you Seht might have made provision, even intended, just this? Has it not occurred to you he almost certainly had a double, even triple, plan, the first being Kafar's victory, the second and third laid in case you lived? Even if he didn't, do you think Nephthys wouldn't? Are you so foolhardy?"
Maeta smoothed her gown and lifted her chin, as if calming herself. She continued, "Or are you simply naive enough to believe you can defeat her magic? O King, great as your potential may be, that day has not come and will not come within my lifetime or several other generations'. You will give me the sword and choose another."
"Maeta, I appreciate your concern, and I'm in no way discounting it. But this is the sword I saw myself transforming. I need you to tell me how to begin."
Maeta pursed her lips. "If that's what you saw, then you didn't see far enough. No. This is madness. I forbid you to make the attempt."
Petraylia gasped.
Maeta opened her mouth but then closed it, seeming to decide to let her command stand.
Horus leaned back, brow arched. "Are you going to forcibly stop me, Maeta? Do you think you could?" He rolled his shoulders. "I don't want to fight you on this. I want and need your support, your assistance. Give me a test. If I pass it, we do it my way. If I don't, together we'll reconsider."
Maeta said to Nalia, "Make him see reason."
Nalia replied, "While I agree what he proposes is extremely dangerous, far beyond another's ability, I believe in him. If you need further reassurance, do as he asks and give him the test."
Petraylia fluttered her fingers against her lips. "But the test is so dangerous, Nalia."
Maeta answered, "Far less than what he means to do." She lowered her gaze and was silent.
"Horus, look," Teo whispered. "You know I believe in you. But if there's any chance...is it worth the risk?"
"I just know what I saw and what I feel."
"But what if you're supposed to? I mean, what if Maeta's right, and Nephthys wove magic into Kafar's sword to make you want to transform it? Couldn't she have hidden her footsteps, so to speak?"
"I can't believe the results of a spell would resonate so powerfully considering everything I hold inside me."
Teo spread his hand over his mouth. Finally, he nodded.
Horus ducked to catch Maeta's gaze. "I'm ready."
Maeta's brows twitched, and the corners of her lips flicked up. Her expression became again unreadable. "We'll see. Your test is this. Without viewing their faces, tell me who's touched this sword."
Horus cocked his head. "Well, Kafar, obviously. And Seht, according to what you've said."
"Are they the only two?" Maeta asked, voice emotionless.
Nalia explained, "You must find the answer from within the sword."
"Ah." Horus brought the sword onto his lap and traced his fingers over it. Images filled his mind. A fire, a figure, well-muscled, with golden skin, back turned, striking a glowing blade, sparks splaying in the darkness around him.
Horus' fingertips tingled. The images shifted, and he saw a man with untamed brown hair carrying with great ceremony the sword onto a battlefield. No, a contest field. But the men lying over it were dead. Seht had his own warriors fight each other to the death? The tingling, beginning to burn, spread across his hands.
Horus' brows drew together. He followed the images deeper. Netum. That was the man, the human's, name. Seht's...counselor. And co-conspirator. Stark malevolence glinted from him. The burning became stabbing, moving up Horus' arms.
Kafar stepped forward, covered in blood, to kneel before the throne. The sword was placed into his hands.
Again, the images sped forward. Kafar crouched in a marsh, the swor
d's sheath belted around his waist, just in front of him the body of a priestess sinking under the mucky water. He pushed her under and bound her corpse's limbs with reeds. Next, he was in the sea, swimming toward reed baskets. He transformed into a scorpion and crawled inside.
The burning spread into Horus' shoulders. He thrust the sword onto the ground. "Three. There were three. Seht, Netum, Kafar. Nephthys never touched the sword. I think she was supposed to award it, but she wasn't there, at the, mm, contest is a terrible word for it."
Nalia touched Horus' forearm, "And you didn't see their faces, Seht, Netum?"
Horus shook his head, and Nalia sat back, relief in her eyes. "I saw Netum's hair and outline. Horrible feeling, the energy around him. I saw Seht from the back as he was making the sword and just his legs, wrists, and hands as he was presenting it. At first, I wanted to see his face, but you said not to, Maeta, so I didn't try. Then I saw his muscles. Frankly, that was enough. I'll need a powerful sword, indeed, if I'm to have any chance. So, did I pass? Do we begin?"
Ignoring his questions, Maeta turned to Nalia. "You understand what's at stake. How certain is your conviction?"
"My conviction he won't die in the attempt is absolute."
Maeta leaned forward, hunching her body over her knees, the lines over her face and the shadows under her eyes deepening. "Mysterious King. You know the Way of Flame. That is all I will say. If you are determined to make this attempt, you must discover the rest."
"Right." Horus chewed his lip. "I'd like the fire higher, please."
Petraylia added fuel to the low flames.
Horus stared into the dancing orange and red. First, he had to negate Seht's, Netum's, and Kafar's energy within the sword. Then he could begin the sword's transformation. But how was he to do either? Flame? I burn away corruption. Could that be the answer? He called, "Flame, know the voice of your bidder. Come to me."
Flame appeared before him, its column shortened to fit within the temple.
Maeta let out a small cry.
Horus jumped, concentration broken.
The column of fire vanished.
Maeta clapped her hand to her mouth. From between her fingers, she said, "That Flame, ruler of all others, is the one that serves you?"
"You saw it before. During our first meeting."
"It was veiled. I didn't see into it."
"But you did now? Ah. I understand your surprise. I felt the same way. Anyway, we know each other well, this Flame and I. It's name is—"
"No, you mustn't speak it." Maeta turned to Petraylia. "How is this possible? What does this mean?"
Petraylia took Maeta's trembling hands in hers. "It means...be at peace."
Maeta gazed into her friend's eyes. "You told me of this. Now I see." Abruptly, she rose, motioning the others to follow.
Nalia instructed, "Horus, a ritual's power is derived from the focus and intent of the one enacting it." She joined Petraylia by the door.
Teo shook his head. "I'm not leaving."
Softly, Maeta insisted, "Your presence will be a distraction. He must have none."
Teo bowed his head. He squared his shoulders and stood. "We believe in you, Horus. Don't hurry it." He gave a forced smile. "And be prepared to tell me later all about what happens."
Maeta circled her arm around Teo's shoulder and led him to the doorway, where she paused and looked back at Horus. Gaze fixed to his, she gave her head a bow. "O King."
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