Spell Bound (A Fairy Retelling #3)

by Dorian Tsukioka

  Nehi rows toward the shore, not speaking.

  “You saw me come here?” Aniya asks.

  “Yes. I saw you in Nefertiti’s garden. I thought I must be imagining you because I knew you were...you were…”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “No one else can see me. Why can you?”

  Nehi shrugs and pulls at the oars. “I assume it’s because I’m still holding some magic in me. Rahotep filled me not long ago. Maybe the magic gives me sight into the land beyond the living.”

  “Perhaps,” Aniya agrees. But what made you decide I wasn’t just part of your imagination?”

  “I don’t think I have completely decided that yet. But I saw you again when you left the palace. That’s when I thought you must be a spirit. I thought perhaps you had come back to take your revenge on me.”

  “Revenge?”

  “Yes. For giving you the apple.”

  “Why should I take revenge for that?” Aniya says, a cold tingle running up her spine. She knows the words he’s going to say. Knows them before his lips even form them.

  “Because it’s the poisoned apple that killed you, Aniya.”

  It feels like she’s underwater again; it’s so hard to breathe. Nehi is still talking, but Aniya can’t hear his words. She’s still trying to process what she knows and what she remembers. Nehi brought her the apple. It was poisoned. It killed her.

  “I really am dead then,” she says, looking at her hands, her palms that seem so real, so solid.

  “Yes,” Nehi whispers.

  Aniya looks up at him. Anguish is etched across his face. She wants to hate him, to lash out at him in anger, but all she feels is the burning ache in her heart and an emptiness of the life that was taken from her.

  “Why?”

  “Why did you die?”

  “Why did you do it? Why did you give me the apple?”

  Nehi’s sigh is long as he gathers his thoughts. “I couldn’t not give you the apple, Aniya. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “What do you mean? Of course you had a choice. Everyone has a choice.”

  “Not everyone. Not me.”

  “I don’t understand.” Hatred bubbles up and the words spit out of her mouth.

  “Rahotep has my secret name - my true name that is connected to my Ka. He uses it to force me to do things that I don’t want to do. When he invokes my secret name, I have no choice but to do what he says. Even though my mind is screaming at me to stop, my body betrays me, and does whatever Rahotep orders me to do. I am less than a slave. I have absolutely no free will when he orders me by my name.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why now?”

  Nehi smiles, but she looks closer and sees the smile is more of a wry smirk. “Rahotep forbade me to tell a single living person about this.”

  “Then why can you tell me now?”

  “Because you’re not a living person, Aniya.”

  The realization of his words wash over her and she understand the wryness behind his smile. He must obey Rahotep’s orders literally. She’s just a spirit, so he can reveal his secret to her.

  Aniya nods her head. “I understand. But Nehi, how did this happen to you? How could Rahotep get your secret name? Aren’t the gods the only ones who know our secret names?”

  Nehi nods. “You’re right. Aten, the One God, gave it to Rahotep. In a strange way, I’m a little grateful.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If Rahotep didn’t know my secret name, then he wouldn’t have the ability to control me. He would have filled me to the bursting point with magic long ago. Him having my secret name has saved my life, in an odd sort of way.”

  “It can’t feel like much of a life, being compelled to whatever your master orders you to do,” Aniya says gently.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Are there others like you?” Aniya asks. “Has Rahotep stolen the secret names of other people, too?”

  “I don’t think so. I watched him try once. It was the only time I heard the One God speak. My flesh grows cold just thinking about it. His voice felt like needles. He chided Rahotep for calling on him for another secret name before he had accomplished the mission that Aten had set for him.”

  Nehi’s words swim in her head and it all comes together. “What else can you tell me?” she asks.

  “I hid your son. I tried, anyway. I told the midwife to take the boy, but then Rahotep...well, you were there.”

  Aniya remembers Rahotep ordering Nehi to bring him the baby. With Nehi’s secret name in Rahotep’s possession, there is nothing he couldn’t order Nehi to do. Nehi would be compelled to obey no matter what.

  “Nefertiti and Rahotep are planning to insert the god Aten into the body of your son,” he continues. “All of the world will see a true, living god and bow down before him.”

  As they row down the Nile, Aniya quickly tells Nehi about her travel through the Duat and what will happen to the old gods of Egypt if no one prays to them anymore.

  “Who will keep Ma’at? There will be no order if all the gods disappear,” he says.

  “Maybe that’s what Aten wants,” Aniya surmises. “Maybe he wants to throw the whole world into chaos.” Aniya’s mind races back to the throne room of the gods. There was mention of chaos. What was it?

  “Did the gods tell you how to stop Aten?” he asks.

  “I have this,” she says, holding up the wooden statue containing the Book of the Dead. “The goddess Isis told me to find it. She said it can help.”

  “We have to hurry.”

  Aniya agrees. The sun is sinking low over the horizon, painting the desert in shades of red.

  “Nehi, there’s something more. If the sun sets while my Ka is away from my body, I’ll be separated from it forever.”

  Nehi inhales sharply. “A lost soul of the Duat. You’ll never be able to cross over into the next life. Aniya, you must return to the pyramid. Your body is there in a chamber close to Akhenaten’s.”

  “No. I can’t. I have to stop Nefertiti and Rahotep. I have to save my son.”

  A look of sheer determination crosses Nehi’s face as he rows down the Nile toward the Red Desert where the ceremony will be held. The pyramids where Aniya’s husband and her own body are buried shines in the fading sunlight. As they get closer, she feels the pull of her Ka’s desire to reunite with her flesh but ignores it.

  Aniya clutches the book of spells close as she and Nehi depart the boat and make their way through the desert. The sun is hanging low in the sky.

  Together, they push their way through the throng of people. Although they ignore her altogether, the people give Nehi a wide berth when they see his priestly garb. Many of them reach out their hands for a blessing, but Nehi ignores them as they make their way to the dais of the Red Desert.

  A wooden altar sits on the top of a great hill directly under the rising full moon. Rahotep stands there surrounded by guards and lesser priests. Nefertiti stands next to him while a midwife holds the child.

  “Nehi, faster! They’re about to begin!”

  Nehi runs and Aniya chases after him as they make their way up the hill. Rahotep holds up his hands to silence the crowd as Nehi slips into line with the other priests. Rahotep turns an icy gaze to Nehi. “It’s about time, boy,” he hisses. “Stand closer. I’ll be needing you in just a moment.”

  Nehi’s teeth clench and his face gives away how hard he is trying to fight against Rahotep’s command, but his legs move until he is standing within arm’s reach of the high priest.

  Aniya feels a tingling sensation all over her skin. It isn’t unpleasant, like a cool breeze hit the back of her neck and caused pinpricks all over her body. She closes her eyes and the feeling intensifies. Gentle wisps flow through her fingers, over her neck, caressing her skin. It takes only a moment before she understands. Magic. The place is full of it. She’s never felt the magic flowing outside of he
r, but here it is pulsing all around her. She opens her eyes and sees faint blue wisps of it undulating through the crowd of people. So many of them are here, ready to worship, ready to celebrate the crowning of their next Pharaoh.

  Rahotep begins speaking to the crowd. She steps forward, but only Nehi can see her. She walks towards the child, her child, and tries to take him from the arms of the midwife, but her hands pass right through, just as they did when she tried to take Nehi’s hand in the water. Aniya tries again, but she can not take him. Instead, he sleeps soundly in the woman’s arms unaware of what is about to happen to him.

  Rahotep motions to the midwife and she steps forward, walking directly through Aniya. A shiver runs through her and Nehi’s eyes widen as he sees this happen. Aniya spins around desperate for her child. Rahotep’s words fly over the crowd as he begins the ritual of the naming ceremony.

  Fill me. Magic pours into Aniya from every corner of the earth, flowing into her like an invisible river of power.

  See me, she whispers. A hot wind blows by kicking dust up into the air. Rahotep’s words stop mid-sentence. He is looking at her. He sees her. But not only him; every eye is on her. Aniya turns and sees the people of Egypt. A hush of disbelief has fallen over the crowd.

  SEVENTEEN

  “How can this be?” a voice says. Nefertiti. Her eyes shine with fear and hate.

  “Give me the child,” Aniya says, gathering her courage.

  Nefertiti takes the babe from the arms of the midwife. “No.” She holds her head high, and though she is visibly shaking, she clutches the child in her arms.

  Aniya moves towards her and grabs for him. It doesn’t matter that Nefertiti tries to shield him away, her hands pass right through them both. She can not take him. Not even the magic within her is able to give her the ability to touch the flesh of the living.

  “A spirit,” Rahotep says, understanding what she is. “You are nothing but a lost spirit. You can not stop us.”

  A corner of Nefertiti’s mouth rises. She looks directly into Aniya’s eyes and says, “Continue with the ceremony.”

  Rahotep nods and opens his mouth to begin again.

  “Wait!” Aniya shouts. “A trade.”

  “What could you possibly have to trade?” Rahotep asks.

  “This,” she says, and holds out the statue of Osiris. “The Book of the Dead. All of the magic and the spells of the underworld can be yours. Just give me…”

  “Aniya, no!” Nehi shouts. “He’ll be able to do anything with that. He’d be too powerful to stop.”

  “Silence!” Rahotep shouts. Nehi’s lips continue to move, but his voice has disappeared.

  Rahotep’s gaze slides over the offering in her hands. Aniya can feel his desire. “Do you even know what the Book of the Dead is?” he asks. “You offer me the most powerful set of magical spells in the world in trade for a mere baby boy?”

  “No, not the baby,” Aniya says. “For him.” She nods at Nehi. “Give me his secret name and you can have the Book of the Dead.”

  Rahotep scoffs at her request. “Him! A slave boy? Fine. Once I have the spells, I won’t need him to hold the magic anymore. I’ll be able to wield it myself.”

  “Then it’s a deal.”

  Rahotep steps forward, grinning at Aniya’s foolish choice. He whispers Nehi’s secret name into her ear. She feels Nehi’s essence enter into her. It’s beautiful and good, and it longs to be reunited with its true owner.

  “He can not save you,” Rahotep whispers as she hands him the wooden container.

  Nefertiti places the baby on the altar as the last ray of sunlight fades and darkness falls completely. Rahotep smashes the statue of Osiris against the edge of the altar and pulls out a tightly-rolled scroll of papyrus. A red glow shines over the whole assembly. Aniya looks up to see the moon engulfed in crimson as deep and dark as blood. A cloud encircles the moon, shifting and slithering. She’s seen this beast before - the snake, Apophis, harbinger of chaos and doom. Aniya shudders as it ensares the moon with its coils, ready to devour it.

  A burst of fiery wind blows out of the desert and sand rises into the air. The crowd screams and the people hide their faces from the blast. The heat of the wind is scorching even against Aniya’s spirit form. Within the wind and blowing sand, an image of darkness appears. Aniya can sense evil roiling within -- a rotting, devouring lust for chaos and power.

  “Aten, the One God!” Rahotep shouts, his face a vision of rapture. But Aniya knows he is wrong. There is no Aten. There is no One God. Rahotep has been deceived. They have all been deceived. The image grows closer.

  “Finish the ceremony,” a booming voice comes from the darkness. The air grows frigid as the words engulf them.

  Rahotep opens the scroll and begins to read aloud.

  “No! Don’t you know what that is?” Aniya shouts at him, but Rahotep ignores her. “It’s Set, the god of chaos. He’s deceived you! If you do this, all of creation will fall into chaos!”

  Her words fall on deaf ears. Rahotep is caught up in the magic and the promise of eternal life.

  Aniya reaches down for the baby, but her hands still can not grip the child. “Take him!” she shouts to Nehi. “Keep him safe!” The wind whips the words from her mouth, but the magic of Nehi’s secret name causes him to move anyway. He takes the child from the altar and runs.

  “Fools!” Rahotep stops his spell for a moment to chide us. “The power of the One God and the Book of the Dead can not be stopped. There is nothing you can do to prevent the ceremony from happening.”

  The truth of his words hit her. He has won. Her son will die. She’ll be forever lost. There is nothing she can do.

  But pray.

  Have all the old gods disappeared?

  Aniya gathers the magic around her to amplify her voice above the sandstorm. She can no longer see the people of the city below, but she has to believe they are still there. Has to believe their hearts still long to worship the gods of Egypt. She lifts up prayer after prayer of worship to the gods, to Isis, Osiris, and Amun-Ra.

  I have met them. I know them. I believe in them. I have to believe that Egypt still believes in them, too.

  Her voice lifts up and with it she hears the chants and prayers of the people singing praises to the old gods along with her. Together their voices become one and rise above the roar of the wind. Eventually, the power of the magic wanes and Aniya is left nearly empty. Her voice returns to normal, but still she hears the prayers of the people lifting up into the night sky.

  “Sacrilege! This is sacrilege!” Rahotep screams. “There is only the One God! There is only Aten!”

  Aniya is about to answer him when the scroll in his hands bursts into blue flames, the same color as Osiris’ skin. The flames quickly devour the papyrus, but don’t stop there. They lick at Rahotep’s priestly garments and in moments, he is engulfed in them.

  “No!” Nefertiti screams as she rushes forward to put out the fire. The flames jump to her long, white dress and she is encircled in blue fire as well. The blaze consumes both of them and in seconds, they are gone. Nothing remains. The Book of the Dead shrivels into ashes and blows away in the wind.

  With the high priest gone, the ceremony stops. Set’s wail of defeat bursts from the desert along with a blast of sand and hot wind. Eventually the wind dies down and the sand falls to the earth, clearing the night sky. The moon is no longer encased in red. Instead, it bathes the earth in a beautiful white glow.

  The people below stare up at the sky, and then Aniya realizes it’s not the moon they are staring at. It’s her. They still see her.

  “Behold, the Queen of Egypt!” a voice cries out. The people of her kingdom bow down on the ground prostrate. But when they rise, she is not there.

  The last wisps of magic have brought her back to her tomb. It’s dark, but torches have been lit to guide her spirit on its way. The room is decked with the finest possessions of a queen of Egypt, but the only thing that cap
tures her attention is her body, still and rigid, lying on a table.

  Aniya walks over to it, but knows she is too late. Too much time has passed and her Ka can never reunite with her flesh. She is a lost soul.

  “Aniya?” a voice calls out from inside the pyramid. The stone that covered the entrance is rolled away, and a torch lights the room in a yellow glow. There is Nehi, cradling her still-sleeping son in the crook of his arm. Aniya is reminded for a moment of the cocky young man she met at the rear of the palace.

  Nehi walks to the center of the room and places a hand on the linen shroud covering her body. “I’m sorry,” he says as she comes next to him and looks down into the face of her son.

  “Watch over him,” she says, lifting her head to look Nehi in the eye. There is no condemnation or judgement in her face. She leans in close to him, places her mouth close to his ear and whispers his secret name. The tiny portion of his Ka slips away from her, and the moment his name has left her lips, she has forgotten it. It belongs to him now.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “You must tell Egypt of the name I chose for him,” she says, motioning to her son. “He is Pharaoh now. His name shall be ‘Living Image of Amun’ to celebrate Amun-Ra, the sun god who brought me through the Duat.”

  “Living Image of Amun?” Nehi asks.

  “Yes. Tutankhamun. That is his name.”

  “Tutankhamun. That’s a mouthful. Can I call him ‘Tut’ for short?”

  Aniya laughs. It’s the first time she’s done so in such a long time. It feels so good to almost be alive.

  “Yes, you can call him ‘Tut.’”

  The door to the Duat opens again and Aniya feels its pull. It is where she belongs now.

  “I must go. It’s time,” she says.

  She wishes she could touch them, both her son and the friend who saved her life many times over. But she knows her spirit hand will pass right through them, so she keeps it safely by her side and walks through the door. And then there is nothing.