The Forest of Myrrh (Imhotep Book 3)

by Jerry Dubs

  “Akila,” she continued, “you will hide here, with this,” she handed her the knife of King Djoser. “He will come after me. I have my sword. I will keep him in front of me and you will come from hiding and attack him. Can you do this?”

  Thinking of the attack she and Hapu had survived, Akila nodded.

  She took the knife, looked at the small blade and then thought of the huge figure she had seen on the far side of the maze wall.

  - 0 -

  Imhotep stopped by the edge of the pit. Leaning to look into it, his leg began to buckle and he threw himself backward to avoid falling into the thorny bramble.

  Cheti caught him, stepping backward to keep his balance as he supported Imhotep.

  Back on his feet, Imhotep said, “I am sorry, Cheti. Could you ask one of your warriors to loan me a spear? I’m afraid I need something to help me walk.”

  As Cheti talked to the warriors, Imhotep stepped carefully to the edge of the pit. King Parahu stood beside him and motioned for a torch. Taking it, he got to his knees and shoved the torch into the pit.

  The branches were smashed against the bottom and sides of the pit creating a thorny nest. Queen Ati’s yellow robe hung into the left side of the pit, held in place by two rocks.

  King Parahu said something, his voice filled with admiration.

  Imhotep felt someone come up beside him.

  “Lord Imhotep,” Cheti said, offering him a short spear.

  “Thank you,” Imhotep said, accepting the spear and, turning it point down, pushed it into the ground and then leaned on it. “What did King Parahu say?’ he asked Cheti.

  “He said his beloved is a tigress.”

  Imhotep cocked his head in question.

  Cheti nodded toward the pit. “This is a burn pit where they destroy old and broken branches from the trees. Queen Ati set a trap for her pursuer, covering the top with her gown. The scream we heard was the attacker falling into the pit.”

  Imhotep looked at the crushed branches, the ruts of dirt on the far side of the pit and the splotches of blood on the right side of the ground where the man had pulled himself from the hellish pit. He imagined the strength, physical and mental, of someone who could survive the pit, pull themselves from it and continue chasing the women.

  He felt a clutch of fear and said, “We should hurry.”

  The Knife of Djoser

  A cloud of bats descended into the clearing, broke into a frenzy of darting trails and disappeared into the night.

  Grasping a large rock, Queen Ati stood to the left of the clearing entrance. Holding King Djoser’s knife, Akila crouched behind a low pile of broken branches to the right of the entrance. She had removed her white gown and hung it from the branches of a tree directly across from the clearing entrance.

  Just to the side of the gown, her body covered in dirt, Pharaoh Hatshepsut held her khopesh sword in both hands and waited.

  They heard a scrape and then a slight intake of breath. Then a light grunt.

  Akila’s white gown shot backwards as if punched and a giant shadow moved unevenly into the clearing.

  - 0 -

  As soon as he threw the rock, Yuya hobbled into the clearing.

  He saw the low pile of branches to his right and assumed that one of the women would be hiding there. Off to the left he saw an uneven blotting of the light, the deformed shadow of the woman who had been wearing the yellow dress, the one he would take with him to feed to his snake.

  And ahead, crouched across the clearing with a sword in her hand, the one he had thrown a rock at before, the one who had taken his thumb.

  He rushed toward her, stopped, balanced on his uninjured leg, and leaned backward as she slashed with her sword. Instead of reaching in as soon as the blade passed, he waited. The way she gripped the sword, her balance, her lack of fear all told him that she was a warrior, not simply a frightened woman.

  His caution was rewarded as Pharaoh Hatshepsut, instead of completing her swing, turned her wrists to bring the flashing blade in an arc and sweep back in front of her.

  As soon as the blade passed him the second time, Yuya attacked.

  Stepping toward her, he swung his injured right hand. The mangled hand, balled into a fist, struck the back of Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s wrist. His fist hit her like a hammer, smashing against her and numbing her arm.

  She lost her grip and the khopesh fell into the darkness.

  Her body turned from the blow, she kicked out at him, her foot striking his knee, but there was no strength in her kick and soon she felt his hand on her throat. His four fingers wrapped around her, but there was no thumb to complete the grip.

  Yuya grunted, wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and started to pull her close. As he did, he heard scuffling from behind and he remembered the pile of brush. Releasing Pharaoh Hatshepsut, he bent and swung his fist into the air behind him.

  Having crawled from her hiding place, Akila was rising to her feet, King Djoser’s knife in her hand. Yuya’s fist hit her shoulder and knocked her to the ground. She landed heavily on her chest and felt the wind knocked from her.

  Yuya saw Akila fall and turned back to Pharaoh Hatshepsut. His face was met with Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s bare hands as she reached upward toward the towering giant to claw at his eyes. One finger caught his right eye and she felt a satisfying dampness as her finger drove into his eyeball.

  Yuya screamed and twisted away from her, swinging his other arm at her head. Landing on her as she began to duck, the blow knocked her back against the thorny maze wall. She felt her skin punctured by the thorns and then ripped open as she fell to her hands and knees.

  Unable to breathe, Akila fought against the panic that threatened to overtake her. She pulled herself to her hands and knees and was surprised to feel the knife handle still in her grip. Raising her arm, she lashed at the back of the giant leg in front of her, raking the stone blade across the back of Yuya’s right leg.

  Yuya suddenly felt his leg give way. He didn’t know why his leg no longer worked, but he knew that he couldn’t fall helplessly onto his back. Twisting as he fell, he spread his arms to catch himself.

  As he fell Yuya saw Pharaoh Hatshepsut crawling away from the maze wall, her hands empty as she searched for the lost khopesh. Turning more, he saw Akila rolling away from him, her body doubled over as she fought for breath.

  He landed on his hands and knees and saw that Akila was in reach. Supporting his weight with one arm he reached for her.

  Suddenly the world fell atop him and he collapsed, the breath driven from his chest. His jaw slapped against the ground and he felt blood fill his mouth as he bit through his tongue. Quickly, desperately he fought to get his hands beneath him. He pushed hard, but he couldn’t raise himself from the ground.

  He saw Akila, knife in hand, roll free and arch her back as she suddenly was able to breathe again. He saw Pharaoh Hatshepsut, bloodied and injured, get to her feet, both hands gripping the deadly khopesh sword.

  And above him he heard the heavy breathing of Queen Ati, her huge bulk spread over him.

  For the first time in his life, he felt fear.

  Twisting, grunting, kicking with his uninjured leg, Yuya fought to roll over. He felt the ponderous weight of Queen Ati shift and suddenly his head was yanked back as she pulled on his hair. Then suddenly his head slammed forward as she slapped a heavy arm against the back of his head.

  His nose smashed against the rocky ground and, fighting to stay conscious, he roared in pain. Infuriated, a rush of adrenaline surged through him and he jabbed an elbow back toward Queen Ati. He felt a satisfying crunch and her weight shifted.

  Slowly, mightily he pushed and twisted and her weight, like a mountain avalanche, began to slide away from him.

  He took a deep breath, turned, felt more air than mass above him and then saw a shadow approach.

  The shadow changed into a blur and he realized that it was no play of light; it was the slicing blade of the khopesh.

  On her kne
es, Pharaoh Hatshepsut swung the khopesh with both hands, the blade aimed at Yuya’s massive neck. A blocking arm shot up and the blade was deflected, digging into his muscled forearm, cutting through the muscle and following the bone down to his elbow, peeling aside skin and flesh.

  Yuya’s other arm, freed now from Queen Ati’s weight, slapped at Pharaoh Hatshepsut as he screamed. The blow hit her elbow and the khopesh flew away. Pharaoh Hatshepsut fell with it and Yuya dragged himself across the ground toward her.

  Suddenly Pharaoh Hatshepsut felt Akila’s hand on her arm and something slipped into her right hand. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of the knife of King Djoser and, as Yuya threw himself on her, she drove the stone blade under his chin and deep into his throat.

  Survival

  They lay gasping and bleeding in the darkness.

  Finally able to breathe, Akila crawled to Pharaoh Hatshepsut, who was pinned to the ground beneath Yuya’s dead weight. Seeing her face and neck were covered with blood Akila froze, wondering if Yuya and not Pharaoh Hatshepsut had survived.

  Seeing Akila’s shock, Pharaoh Hatshepsut whispered, “It is his blood.”

  Akila nodded and then put a hand on the side of Yuya’s thick neck. There was no pulse. Leaning into him, she began to push on his bulk, slowly sliding him off Pharaoh Hatshepsut.

  “What injuries do you have?” Akila asked between shoves against Yuya’s body.

  “My left arm is dead and the wrist feels thick. I fell against the trees and my back feels on fire,” Pharaoh Hatshepsut said, twisting beneath Yuya’s body to get her right arm free. She tugged it free, her hand still clutching the knife of King Djoser and a new river of blood came from Yuya’s open wound.

  Then she angled her arm to press against him with her elbow while Akila pushed. A wide bare foot appeared beside Akila’s shoulder as Queen Ati joined them. She kicked hard against Yuya’s chest and the heavy corpse rolled free of Pharaoh Hatshepsut.

  “Are you injured?” Akila asked Queen Ati.

  “My nose,” she answered with a muffled voice. “Something hit it. I cannot breathe through it.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “No,” Queen Ati answered, ignoring the flaying cuts on her back from when she had bulled through the thorny maze. She stood over Pharaoh Hatshepsut and said, “Is it his blood, my friend?”

  “Most of it,” Pharaoh Hatshepsut said, sliding into a sitting position. When she grimaced, Queen Ati walked behind her and bent to look at her back.

  “Where is the sword?” Queen Ati asked.

  Pharaoh Hatshepsut shook her head. “He knocked it away.” She twisted and tilted her head to her right. “I think it is over that way.”

  Breathing heavily through her mouth, Queen Ati shuffled in the direction Pharaoh Hatshepsut indicated. After a few steps she grunted as she slowly bent to pick up the sword.

  “He is dead,” Akila said, nodding toward Yuya’s body. “And I don’t think there are others.”

  Queen Ati walked a few steps to the nearest tree. “I know,” she said, raising the khopesh and then swinging it hard to cut into the trunk of the tree. “Come here, Akila,” she said as she worked the sword free.

  “Get your robe and gather the resin from the cut. If you smear it on the cuts on Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s back, it will stop the bleeding and heal the wounds.”

  - 0 -

  From a distance they heard the slap of fist on flesh, the sharp grunts of stolen breath, the unintentional cries of pain and then silence.

  Riveted by the sounds of struggle, Imhotep stood for a moment by the burn pit and then began to walk carefully, hurriedly along the narrow pathway between the hole and the thorny maze wall. Almost as soon as he reached the open path he felt shadows run past him, the king’s warriors heading toward the sounds of fighting ahead.

  The attacker would have shouted if he had defeated them, Imhotep told himself hopefully. He would have roared again.

  He drove the tip of the spear hard into the ground, leaned his weight on it, stepped quickly and kept telling himself that Akila had survived.

  The footsteps of the running warriors grew more distant and then they stopped. Imhotep couldn’t tell if they had simply outrun his ability to hear or if they had found the women. Then a single set of footsteps resumed, this time growing louder as they drew nearer.

  A warrior appeared in the darkness. He ran to King Parahu and spoke quickly. Although Imhotep didn’t understand the words, the tone was clear: Somehow, the women had survived.

  Traitor

  Sitting in the dark clearing by the body of Yuya, Pharaoh Hatshepsut held a limp arm in her lap. Her bare back was covered with congealing resin from the myrrh trees, the rest of her was still dusted by the camouflaging dirt, her face was sweaty from the fight, her neck and chest were sticky from the drying blood from her attacker, yet she looked regal.

  Her face was composed, her eyes alight with both the energy of the fight she had just won and with thoughts that were already unraveling what had happened.

  Imhotep and Akila were huddled by the edge of the clearing. King Parahu and his men were surrounding Queen Ati and listening to her animated retelling of the encounter.

  Admiral Ahmose knelt by Pharaoh Hatshepsut.

  “There is a traitor,” Pharaoh Hatshepsut told him.

  Admiral Ahmose nodded in agreement and waited.

  “He was seeking us, me,” she said tilting her head toward Yuya’s body. “He wasn’t after gold or slaves or myrrh. He wanted to kill me. Therefore,” she turned her head and looked at Ahmose, “he must have known that I was here.”

  Ahmose nodded again, his mind going through the short list of those who knew Pharaoh Hatshepsut was here. Senenmut, of course, and Pentu and Maya, who was impersonating pharaoh. And, no matter how careful Senenmut and Maya were, there would be servants and guards who must have seen through the secret.

  But they have no cause to send Medjay assassins to kill Pharaoh Hatshepsut. Medjays! How were they involved?

  King Parahu approached Pharaoh Hatshepsut and knelt beside her, Cheti standing beside him. The king spoke, sincerely and humbly, and then Cheti translated, telling pharaoh how sorrowful King Parahu was and how grateful he was that they had survived the attack.

  “Queen Ati said that you were a warrior and that you fought the giant alone and bravely,” Cheti translated.

  Pharaoh Hatshepsut glanced at Queen Ati, standing in the waving torchlight, her own wounds being tended by her soldiers. “Tell King Parahu that Queen Ati is a mighty warrior. She saved us as much as I did.”

  Cheti nodded, tears in his eyes, and turned to the king to translate. As he spoke, a warrior ran into the clearing and knelt by King Parahu. He spoke quickly and pointed out of the clearing.

  “What is it?” Pharaoh Hatshepsut asked.

  “They have caught two of the Medjay,” Cheti said.

  - 0 -

  The Medjay were bound, their hands tied behind their backs, their ankles tied together. They were forced to kneel and a rope bound their tethered hands to their feet.

  Two hours had passed since Yuya’s defeat, and Pharaoh Hatshepsut had bathed and dressed. Her blue warrior’s crown capped her head, the false beard of royalty hung from her chin. She had rebuffed Akila’s advice that she wear her injured arm in a sling, instead holding it stiffly at her side, her fist clenched below the swollen wrist. In her other arm she carried the khopesh sword that she had used in the battle against Yuya.

  Hours still remained before dawn so torches had been planted in a circle around the prisoners. Pharaoh Hatshepsut stepped into the circle of light and stopped just in front of the prisoners. Guards on either side of the prisoners bowed their heads as she approached.

  “You are going to die,” she told the Medjay. “You can go to Ma’at with light hearts or you can wander Duat forever. You can speak to me now, die and be buried as defeated warriors or you can stay silent and your bodies will be fed to the ravens.”

  The Medjay
glanced at each other and then at Pharaoh Hatshepsut.

  “We did not know you were here, Lord of the Two Lands,” one of them said.

  “Yet your leader sought me from all the others,” she said.

  “We were told to kill the women. We were not told who they were,” the prisoner said.

  “Who told you this?”

  “A messenger from Governor Seni.”

  “When?” she asked, her deliberate voice hiding her surprise.

  “After we had left Ta-Seti. The messenger found us while we were traveling here through the jungle.”

  “Do you speak the truth? Are your hearts light?”

  “Yes,” both men answered, their voices unshaken, their eyes avoiding the khopesh.

  Pharaoh Hatshepsut nodded and as King Parahu, Queen Ati, Admiral Ahmose, Nehsy and Ty watched, she stepped behind one of the men. She raised the khopesh in her uninjured hand. For a moment she froze, the light from the torches glistened on the oils on her composed face, on the graceful lines of her shoulders, on the curved lines of her raised arm and on the polished blade of the sword.

  Then she twisted her torso, her raised arm descended through the night air, the blade became a streak of silvery light and the first captive’s head fell to the ground, followed an instant later by his body.

  Blood dripped from the khopesh as Pharaoh Hatshepsut raised it once more. Sword aloft, she paused and turned to Queen Ati who shook her head, declining the unspoken invitation. The blade flashed again and the second Medjay died.

  At the edge of the crowd, standing beside Nehsy, Ty watched the warrior’s head drop from his shoulders. It rolled in the dirt and came to rest lying on an ear, the face aimed at the crowd.