Time Anomaly: A Time Travel Romance (Echo Trilogy, #2)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  The combination of my increasingly sensitive Nejerette vision and our meager artificial light enabled me to see at least some of what lay ahead—a ghostly ancient city of large, graceful structures composed of narrow archways, elongated spires, and fluted columns. A sinuous darkness curved lazily between the buildings, drinking in the light, and I assumed it was some sort of spring-fed underground stream . . . snaking through an underground city . . . that appeared to also be made of At. Un-freaking-believable . . .

  “It seems so impossible,” Aset said, her voice filled with longing and loss. “It feels like it was just yesterday that I left her in here . . .”

  Her words shocked me out of my stunned state. “Her? Who? Lex?” I touched Aset’s shoulder, and when she didn’t seem to notice, I gripped it and gave her a hard shake. “Aset, are you talking about Lex? Are you saying you left her in this—this crypt? Did you leave her in here to die?”

  “No!” Aset stared at me, her eyes wide and wild and glistening in the pale, artificial light. “No, I—she made me. She told me—she—” Aset turned me to face her and gripped my upper arms so hard that I winced. “I left because she told me to, and when I returned, the door was sealed . . .” She shook her head, her shimmering eyes boring into me. “It had to stay sealed.” She released me, but continued to shake her head. “We will know her fate not long from now, I think. We will know all of our fates . . .” She forced a smile. “All will work out; you will see.”

  I blinked, narrowed my eyes, and crossed my arms, shrugging to escape her talon-like grip. “Just so you know, you sound like a total crazy person.”

  Aset let out a breathy laugh. “I would imagine so, Katarina.” She smiled and sighed. “Come. It is too dark to make much out right now, and I have a feeling that I know where Heru went.”

  “Where?” I asked, following her down a barren slope toward the stream.

  “Home.”

  30

  Death & Decay

  Aset led me across a narrow, arched bridge bordered by delicate, At-filigree railings. The stream definitely had to be fed by a spring, because I could hear it burbling. A slow brush of my flashlight beam showed me that the “stream” was lined by what appeared to be paving stones, making me think it was actually more of a canal.

  “How is this even here?” I whispered, afraid that speaking too loudly would cause it all to come crashing down around us.

  “Heru’s home is just this way,” Aset said, flicking her flashlight along the path lining the opposite side of the canal. She waited for me at the foot of the bridge, and once I was across, started walking along the edge of the canal. “Nuin is responsible for creating the Netjer-At Oasis—or Cavern, I suppose it might be called now,” she said with a roundabout glance. “It has been here as long as I’ve been alive, though I suppose the Oasis did grow over the years, but Lex is the one responsible for concealing it, for keeping it out of the spotlight, for protecting it from the desert . . .”

  I looked at Aset, watching her delicate features as we walked. “But how did she do all of that? How is this not buried in, like, a mile of rock?”

  Aset paused and raised her flashlight beam to the cavern’s ceiling. “Look up. What do you see?”

  I followed the light, but couldn’t tell much other than that the cavern’s ceiling was high overhead. “So a cave popped up around this place at just the right time?”

  “You’re funny,” Aset said, her tinkling laugh making me smile. “It didn’t just pop up—Lex did it. She erected a dome of At just as the limestone cliffs shielding the Oasis came crashing down on top of us.” Aset’s gaze became distant, and all remnants of her momentary humor disappeared. “The ground shook . . . the screams . . . you cannot imagine the terror.”

  It was clear from the tense set of her features that she didn’t actually want to talk about whatever she was reliving in her memories, so I gave her a gentle tug to keep going. “Sounds scary. You said Heru’s place is this way?”

  Aset cleared her throat. “Um, yes,” she said, veering to the right, down a narrow alleyway between two rows of crumbling two-story buildings that appeared to be constructed from regular old stone, not At. “It’s just this way, across the orchard and gardens.”

  I raised my flashlight, shining the beam along the way ahead. One of the more fanciful buildings sat on the opposite side of the “orchard”—more like a haunted forest with its sparse, skeletal trees—its face composed of three graceful archways, two smaller ones flanking a larger, which appeared to be an open doorway. As we reached the opening, I saw that there was no door at all.

  “I guess there wasn’t much crime here . . . ?”

  Aset stepped through the threshold and into what I could only describe as a small palace. It was more than a little haunting in the dim light. “There was no need for doors,” she said. “Nuin forbade us from willfully harming one another, and nobody would dare defy him. At least, not until the end . . .”

  I followed her into the palace. There were piles of unidentifiable things on the dust-covered floor here and there; what was left of the furniture after it rotted and collapsed in on itself, I supposed. As we moved from open space to open space through successive archways, my cursory inspection showed me that only a few pieces remained intact, all apparently made of some stone or another. It was so eerie. If ever a place was haunted, this one would be.

  Aset led me through one final arched doorway and stopped, staring at the man kneeling on the floor on one side of the room. There was more stone furniture in here, what appeared to be three beds arranged against three of the walls. Two were empty; one was covered in something that looked an awful lot like a glass coffin.

  Aset grabbed my wrist, preventing me from moving further into the room.

  Marcus’s head was bowed, his forehead leaning against the “coffin.” He had to have heard us enter, and if his eyes were open, he would see our headlamps and flashlights illuminating the eerie space, but he didn’t raise his head. He didn’t appear to be moving at all. I was starting to get the sick feeling that the thing he was kneeling beside didn’t just look like a coffin. It was cool in the At-cavern compared to the desert overhead, but the chill washing over my skin had nothing to do with the temperature.

  “Heru . . .” Aset’s voice was gentle.

  “I don’t remember this,” Marcus said, his own voice a quiet rasp. “I remember her dying from a fever . . . but I don’t remember this.”

  Her dying? I looked from Aset to Marcus and back. Are they talking about Lex?

  “I was here with you when it happened . . . as was Lex.” Aset sighed as she released my wrist and moved further into the room to stand beside Marcus. She gazed down at the thing and reached out to brush a thick layer of dust off the top. “She loved little Tarsi very much, I think.”

  “She was my favorite . . .”

  “I know, Heru. I know.”

  Feeling like an intruder, I snuck closer. I just couldn’t help myself.

  The coffin was mostly opaque—thank God, because dead bodies are so not my thing—and I could just make out the shape of a person inside. A very small person.

  Aset placed her hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Come, dear brother, there is more you must see.”

  It took him a moment, but after a sniff and a throat clearing, Marcus stood and looked at his sister. “Did you know it would be like this, under the rubble?”

  Aset tilted her head to the side. “In a way, yes. This is how it looked—though with less dust and rot—when we left.” She glanced around the high-ceilinged room. “It is very strange to be back, and for the city to be so . . .” She hesitated. “So dark, so empty . . . so dead.” She took hold of Marcus’s hand and led him back out the way we’d come in, through a half-dozen archways and rooms of various sizes, and out to the empty space that must have once been a garden.

  I followed, hanging back to give them their privacy. I considered retracing my steps and finding my way out of the fantastical ghost town, be
cause it was starting to seriously creep me out, but the thought of getting lost creeped me out even more, so I opted to stay with Aset and Marcus.

  We wound along curving paths paved with worn limestone between more of the “regular” two-story buildings—some of which were little more than piles of crumbled stone—and around a few more of the graceful At structures similar to Marcus’s home. We only stopped after we’d rounded the largest, most graceful and fantastical of them all and reached what looked to me like a mausoleum from a century-old cemetery.

  Turning away from the underwhelming little structure, I looked at the At palace. My eyes followed it as it flowed upward; a few of its sleek spires actually punctured the cavern’s ceiling.

  “I am not sure exactly how much of your memory she altered,” Aset said behind me. “You and Lex spent much time in here together. Do you remember this place at all?”

  “No.” Marcus’s voice was rough. “Is it his tomb?”

  “It is, and more. Lex built most of it during her time here . . . and you carried Nuin’s body here, so she could inter him within, along with her story.”

  Her story? I glanced over my shoulder to see them standing side by side, facing the mausoleum.

  Marcus was shaking his head. “I don’t remember any of that. I thought—I thought we left him in his bed when the walls came crashing down . . .”

  Aset nodded. “Set remembered much the same. Lex had so many memories to alter. I’m sure she would have left you with more complete, more settling alternate memories if she could have, but . . . she’d already been through so much, expended so much power . . . she did what she could.”

  Marcus looked at her. “Was she alright?”

  Aset shrugged. “More or less. She experienced much during her time here—then—changed, grew . . . you will be quite amazed when she returns, I think. Amazed, and proud to call her your bond-mate.” She raised a hand, touching his arm. “She is a remarkable Nejerette, and both Nekure and I were sorry to have to say goodbye to her when we did.”

  “Nekure . . .” Heru shook his head. “I completely forgot—where is he?” He paused. “Is he still—”

  “Alive? Quite,” Aset said. “He’s on his way.” She laughed. “He’s changed much over the years. You’ll barely recognize him.” She pointed to the mausoleum, to what appeared to be a door set in the front between two slender, grooved columns. “It is like the other—attuned to your and Lex’s combined bonding pheromones. You must touch it . . .”

  Marcus stepped forward and reached out his arm. Like before, the slab of At barring his way dissolved into a colorful mist before disappearing completely. He shone his flashlight in the opening, revealing a steep stairwell that descended into darkness. And also like before, he plunged onward without hesitation. Part of me wondered if he thought he might actually find Lex down there, like she’d been waiting for him to find her for millennia.

  Biting my lip, I shivered, awash in dread. What if she is down there . . .

  “Come along, Katarina. There is nothing to be afraid of.” Aset held her arm out to me, and together, we descended the stairs.

  “What the—”

  Aset rushed forward a few steps, “Oh my God . . .”

  Marcus was standing beside another coffin, only this one was as clear as glass and most definitely occupied. And the body it contained looked like it had stopped breathing only seconds ago.

  Mouth hanging open, I made it down the final few steps and, dazed, walked toward the coffin. I stood on the opposite side from Marcus and Aset and stared down at a face that was almost as shocking as the body’s pristine state.

  “It’s you,” I said, raising my eyes to Marcus’s face.

  “It’s not,” he said. “It’s the Great Father.”

  “Nuin . . . ?”

  Ignoring me, he tore his gaze away from Nuin’s peaceful face to look at Aset. “Did you know about this, as well?”

  She shook her head, her eyes wide, containing equal parts wonder and horror. “He looks exactly as he did when we left him down here. How—” She looked at her brother. “How is this possible?”

  “How should I know?”

  I cleared my throat and licked my lips, my eyes flicking down to the man who only appeared to be slumbering beneath that thin barrier of At. “I, um, don’t mean to be rude or anything, but are you sure he’s dead?”

  “Yes,” Aset said softly. “It was what had to be . . .” Both she and Marcus returned to staring down at the over-four-thousand-year-dead body.

  “Okay . . .” Suddenly, the idea of getting lost as I tried to find my way out of this underground funhouse of WTF wasn’t the creepiest option; continuing to stare at Nuin’s dead, unrotted body was. I backed away from the coffin and turned around to study the walls. Walls were definitely a better, less creepy choice.

  There were hieroglyphs inscribed in neat columns on every available surface, though I had no clue what they said, and a single, arched doorway set in the center of each wall. I made my way toward the one opposite the stairs and stood on its threshold while I scanned the space beyond with the beam of my flashlight. The ceiling was high, and like the doorways, arched, and the walls were covered with writing as well, though this script was flowy and cursive . . . and, as impossible as it seemed, written in English.

  Lips parted and eyes wide, I stepped closer to the wall on my right and studied the words.

  . . . sandstorm, and we almost bonded again. But I screwed up. I didn’t tell you everything, and once you found out that we’re bonded in the future, well, let’s just say that things went downhill from there. You weren’t too excited about the idea of . . .

  There was no doubt in my mind that these were Lex’s words. I stopped reading, feeling like I was peeking into her diary, and swept my flashlight beam over the rest of the room. When the light touched the far wall, maybe twenty paces away, I yelped and dropped my flashlight.

  Someone was standing in a recessed part of the wall.

  Heart racing and fingers shaking, I fumbled to pick up the flashlight and retrain its beam on the person. She was standing exactly where she’d been, exactly as she’d been. “Because it’s a statue, moron,” I muttered to myself.

  I took a deep breath, then another, and started across the room. The closer I drew to the statue, the wider I opened my eyes.

  She was tall and slender, wearing a simple, sleeveless dress that almost reached her ankles. One foot was placed ahead of the other, like she was stepping out of the alcove, and her left hand was raised, the fingertips touching the pendant hanging around her neck, which I was positive would be a thumb-sized falcon. Marcus had given its likeness to Lex a few weeks ago, when we’d still been in Florence. She was smiling, just a little, in a way that made me think she knew something, a secret or a joke or the truth about everything, but her eyes were sad, filled with longing as she gazed downward.

  “Marcus,” I whispered. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Marcus . . .”

  “What?” His one-word response echoed around the room.

  I spun, fully expecting to find him standing right behind me, or at least in the doorway, but there was no sign of him. He was probably still staring at Nuin’s not-decayed-even-for-a-second body.

  “You should see this,” I said. “You’ll want to see this.”

  “She’s right,” I heard Aset say. “You will want to see what awaits you in the other chambers. Go, dear brother.”

  Marcus appeared in the doorway, his flashlight beam hitting me directly in the eyes.

  I raised my hand to shield my vision. “Dude . . .”

  “What is it that I need to see?” he said as he strode into the room.

  I blinked, confused. It seemed pretty obvious to me. But then I realized I was standing in front of the statue and probably blocking his view entirely.

  It didn’t matter; he was sidetracked by the writing on the walls after barely two steps. He moved closer to the left wall and murmured something in another language
while he traced Lex’s letters with his fingertips.

  “Marcus, you should—”

  “Not now, Kat,” he said softly.

  “Marcus—”

  “I said not—” His words cut off abruptly as he spun around, facing me and finally catching sight of the statue. I moved away from it as he approached, his steps slow and almost hesitant. He stopped directly in front of her and raised his hand to trace his fingertips over every part of her face, just as he’d done with her words.

  With a harsh, choking noise, he fell to his knees and rested his forehead against the front of her skirt. His hands clutched the sides of her dress as his whole body shook. Marcus Bahur, Heru, former leader of the Council of Seven, General to our people, and one of the most ancient and powerful Nejerets alive . . . was breaking down before my very eyes.

  I jumped at a gentle touch on my shoulder. “Come, Katarina. Let us give him some time alone.”

  Nodding and numb with shock, I let Aset guide me back into Nuin’s burial chamber and up the stairs.

  “Ah, yes,” she said as we emerged from the mausoleum. She pointed across the cavern, where tiny points of light were bouncing and shooting around haphazardly. “I thought it was about time for them to show up.” She waved her flashlight in their direction and, raising her voice enough that Nejeret ears might hear her from that distance, said, “Meet us at the main bridge.” It was far from a shout.

  One of their beams of light waved back in response, but if they said anything, my ears weren’t good enough to pick up on it.

  Aset started walking, and I jogged a few steps to catch up to her.

  “But . . . how will they know where the main bridge is?”

  Aset glanced at me, her eyebrows raised. “Because Nik is there.”

  “And that makes a difference because . . . ?”

  Aset smiled, like she only just understood my confusion. “Because Nik is from here.”