Standing there holding the spear, Sanura looked every bit the goddess, amazing and fearsome.
In unison, the servants bowed and mumbled in another language.
After she laid the spear in front of the podium, she looked back at Iker. “Should I begin?”
A blue-green glow swirled beside her. He jerked his head toward the appearing goddess.
The men fell to the ground in prayer as Bastet materialized.
Wide-eyed, Sanura froze, then dipped into a deep curtsy.
The goddess touched her shoulder. “Arise, priestess. Tonight, you have a sacred task. The Queen Pharaoh Hatshepsut has waited long for her soul to travel to the afterlife.”
In Bastet’s palm lay an oversized key shaped like an ankh. “You must use this to unlock the twelve gates to The Underworld, one for each hour of the night. You may begin.”
Sanura accepted the key with a solemn nod and carried it to the pedestal. Iker took his place behind her, keeping aware of every person there.
Holding the ankh key above her head, Sanura trembled as she read the sacred texts. “O god Osiris, hear me. I have brought unto thee the Eye of Horus that thou mayest refresh thy heart therewith, I have placed it beneath thy feet, and I give unto thee whatsoever hath come forth from thy body that thy heart may not cease to beat through the want thereof.”
For a frightening moment, nothing happened. Then a rumble shook the tomb. A cyclone of dazzling white flames formed in one wall. Iker braced as, from its center, the white flames danced apart and spread across the walls, encircling them.
The Island of Fire had surrounded them. His heart thrummed with equal parts excitement and fear as he nodded to Sanura. She had succeeded in opening the Court of Osiris, the first step in the rite. From this moment on, they would all be under the scrutiny of the gods. Hopefully, no deity would find any mortal in the chamber unworthy.
Movement drew his focus to the fire cyclone’s center. Within, a figure appeared. Small at first, but the closer the figure approached, the more Iker was certain this was not Osiris, nor any divine being, but a burly man with the head of a crocodile. Bare-chested, his greenish-brown skin appeared thick and scaled, and he marched on stump-like legs. A troop of the same type of creature marched in formation behind him.
Something had gone wrong. Already.
Bastet had warned him of these monsters, the guards placed at the queen pharaoh’s tomb to entrap her. These creatures would battle to keep Hatshepsut from participating in the ceremony.
Iker gritted his teeth. Nothing could stop the ritual. He wouldn’t allow the vizier to defeat them, not after they’d gotten this far. But his arrows would be of little use against these monsters of the undead. They would need their own warriors of the undead.
Hand to breast, he spoke from deep within his heart. “I call upon thee, O warriors of the Medjai. The Queen Pharaoh Hatshepsut needs your aid. Return to her tomb. Battle to free your queen.”
Nothing. “Medjai warriors. I call upon you. Come to our aid. Now.” Soon, it would be too late.
The crocodile-men advanced, mouths open to bare the rows of sharp teeth lining their long snouts.
Iker shifted his mind to his warrior self, allowing only one thought to occupy his focus—the battle ahead. Emotions, he blocked away behind a wall of steel within, and his skin might have been as thick as a crocodile hide, impervious to pain.
He strode to Sanura and grasped her hand. “Come.”
She resisted his tug. “I can’t leave. Not until I finish what I came to do.”
Stubborn woman. “You will. But first…” He scanned the tomb’s interior. An outcropping of rock in the back should keep her from harm’s way. Mostly. “You will be safer there. I’ll help you up.”
“But you—”
He clenched his teeth. “No arguments, Sanura. Those creatures won’t hesitate to devour you.” He projected his fiercest glare at her.
She clutched his arms. “But I can’t let them harm you.”
Her soft pleas might erode his thick skin, something he couldn’t allow. He drew her below the ledge and swooped her up onto his shoulder. “I am here to keep you safe. We will both finish what we have started.” He looked forward to finishing other things, but later. Away from others.
To his relief, she grabbed the edge and hoisted herself up. Huddled low, she appeared uncomfortable, but alive.
“Wait,” she said.
“What?” He stayed out of her reach. Another kiss ‘for luck’ would be his undoing.
She reached out toward the pedestal. “The spear and the book. Give them to me. Hurry.”
A good idea. The enemy would try to destroy The Book of the Dead, if only to delay them. In four strides, he took the heavy tome from its resting place and carried it to her. “Use the book as a shield if you must.”
“Be careful.”
He gulped back the urge to climb up for one last embrace. With barely a nod, he turned and strode forward. He rocked his head back and forth to crack his neck, set his shoulders back and lowered his head to meet their charge. No use wasting good arrows, so he unsheathed his knives, one in each hand. A well-placed strike to the neck or eye of a crocodile-man would delay an advance, but legend told that their thick hides repelled the blades of mortals. Only the weapon of an immortal—a Medjai, god, or goddess—could destroy such a creature.
He poised, ready to attack. The troop stomped dangerously close to the barrier between worlds.
Distant thunder broke his concentration. The ground trembled. Iker swept his gaze across the tomb for any sign of a second army.
With a low roar, a black cloud swirled from both sides. Silent pops of light, like tiny sparks of lightning, lit the blackness. The roar grew more distinctive, the sound of men’s voices. Not living men, but soldiers of the dead. The Medjai.
Barely discernible as individuals, the two Medjai battalions swarmed from either side, blocking the advance of the crocodile-men. The Medjai rushed the enemy, fire glinted off the fine edges of their steel swords as if capturing the flame.
The roar grew deafening. Men’s shouts mixed with animal snarls, thousands of feet pounding mingled with clanging clash of weapons. The Medjai’s blades sliced the thick hides of the crocodile-men easily as paper, blood spilling from the creatures’ split flesh.
A flood of immense crocodiles swarmed behind the Medjai, Iker drew back in alarm. He’d long ago heard such tales, how the crocodiles represented the darkness of death. As bodyguards of the pharaohs, the Medjai employed them in their fearsome army to help serve and protect their just cause.
With the black cloud shielding the attackers from breaking through the barrier of the other world to enter the burial site, Iker could only watch. The servants huddled close beneath the ledge holding Sanura. The calm within the chambers presented a strange contrast to the battle raging just beyond the border of fire. So detached, he might have been elsewhere watching the event play out on a screen, like Sanura’s television set, only larger. Never had he encountered such a situation.
At a cry from behind, he snapped toward the sound. Dread iced his spine. Apep! In the single moment Iker had let his focus wander, the serpent-man had slithered down the stairway. Apep’s long tail scattered the servants, and he advanced toward Sanura.
Too late, Iker sprung into action. As he leapt to attack Apep, the snake coiled back, then shot upward toward the ledge.
“No, you don’t.” Sanura lifted The Book of the Dead high, then slammed it down on the serpent’s head.
Momentarily stunned, Apep’s forked tongue lolled and his eyes rolled back in his head, and a nearly human face appeared. He shook it off. With a hiss, he flicked his tongue and drew back, fangs bared.
This time, the serpent wouldn’t paralyze Sanura. Apep would aim to kill.
So Iker did too. He let out a gut-deep yell and jabbed both knives into the thick serpentine body. Apep swished his tail in a wide arc.
When the tail rocketed his way, Iker put all his strength into le
aping, and tucked his knees high. His sandals scraped the top of the tail as Apep slammed it into the wall. The tip lashed against Sanura, sending her off balance. A screech, and she rolled off.
Though instinct told him he could never reach her in time, Iker lunged to catch her.
She twisted in mid-air and landed in a crouch on her feet, catlike, then sprang away. “Keep him busy.”
Iker had no choice. Apep had roused from the blow to his head, and coiled back again, his sights set on Iker.
Grimacing, Iker positioned for defense with a wide stance. “Die, serpent.”
“After you.” Apep dove, fangs first.
Iker leapt to the side and jabbed his blade into the snake. His fangs missed their mark, but Apep wrapped himself around Iker’s torso and squeezed.
“Sanura will be lost without you,” the serpent hissed.
The words stole Iker’s will as the snake squeezed the breath from him. He drew enough air to say, “Sanura will triumph over you with or without my help.”
The snake’s eyes widened as his gaze flicked to Sanura.
She pounced on the basket near the pedestal and rummaged through it. “Howie!” She held up a small waxen figure. The totem of Apep.
A choked laugh burst from Iker. “Yes.” He almost felt sorry for Apep, whose look of terror revealed that the serpent knew as well as Iker what Sanura intended to do. Already, the snake had loosened his hold on Iker, enough so he could twist his arm and slice his blade through Apep.
With a loud hiss, the serpent unwound and leapt out of reach.
Her lips moved in a chant as she tossed the waxen figure of Apep into the fire. As the wax melted, so Apep shrank away. His slick skin dried to powder and crumbled in thick patches.
With a sickening scream, the serpent slithered off into the darkness. Several Medjai took pursuit.
Iker whirled to assess the battle between the Medjai and the enemy. Bodies of crocodile-men were strewn everywhere, dusty pools of black interspersed between. Many less Medjai had perished than the vizier’s men. What few crocodile-men remained intact fought desperately against an overwhelming number of Medjai. They would soon lose their fight to imprison the queen pharaoh.
Iker jogged the few paces to Sanura and took her in his arms. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” She moved her hands across his chest. “Are you all right? I was terrified that he’d crush you.”
“I am fine.” Iker readjusted the beaded strands around her head. “Then we must continue.” The white flames still crackled, a sign the Court of Osiris was still open, but for how much longer? He could take no chance on further disaster befalling them.
The yearning in her eyes caused an unnamable ache to swell in his chest. He tightened his embrace as his heart cried out her name. He did not allow it to escape his tongue. You must release her. His mind pried open his fingers.
A brief smile, and she moved to her place at the pedestal.
His mind swam for an instant, but he re-focused on the task at hand. “I’ll retrieve the Book of the Dead for you.” The ancient text hung over the ledge, anchored by its weight. He dragged it down and placed it in front of her. Servants scurried to replace the traditional offerings needed for the ceremony.
Sanura thanked them. “Now you must leave to stay safe.”
They gathered in front of her, gave a deep and respectful bow, and filed up the stairway. Only she and Iker remained. He stepped just behind her.
After a deep inhale and exhale, she raised her arms and read for the second time. “O god Osiris, hear me. I have brought unto thee the Eye of Horus that thou mayest refresh thy heart therewith, I have placed it beneath thy feet, and I give unto thee whatsoever hath come forth from thy body that thy heart may not cease to beat through the want thereof.”
The white fire sparked higher, the flames more brilliant. This time, the floor became a dazzling white and the small tomb expanded an infinite distance as the Court of Osiris engulfed them. White columns appeared, and then a long table. White-robed figures filed in from either side and took their seats, fourteen in all—the judges in the Tribunal Hall.
To one side of the hall, another god approached from a distance. A dark mane flowed to his shoulders from his jackal head. He held a pike in one hand, and a short cross in the other. Anubis, not Osiris.
From the opposite side of the hall, a snarling lion bounded closer. Terror struck Iker. He drew his bow and sighted an arrow at the beast’s heart.
Even as the great lion leapt past Anubis, Sanura stood rigid. Iker’s heart thundered in his ears as the lion made one final leap, and landed in front of the podium where she stood. Its roar filled in Iker’s ears. He tightened the draw on his bow, but held it there.
Sanura lifted her hands. “We thank you, Aker.”
Of course. The lion-god guarded the last of the twelve gates of the night. Iker dropped his aim, but kept hold of the bow. Aker was said to lead souls of the departed toward judgment. Did his arrival mean Hatshepsut had begun her journey toward them?
The lion-god bowed its great head, then turned to face the flames. Following the lion’s path, yet another figure walked toward them, a woman this time. Aker sat as she passed through the last gate.
Hatshepsut. Not middle-aged, as Iker had known her, but restored to her youthful beauty. He kept his expression cold as stone, but a spark burned hot within him. He had been many things to the queen pharaoh—her lover but not her friend, her advisor but not her confidante. They had been most intimate, but never truly close. The shallowness of their relationship had never fully struck him until now. He would never settle for less again.
Hatshepsut strolled to within several paces of Sanura. Head high, the queen pharaoh exuded strength and intelligence, her usual impatience just below the surface of her composure.
Anubis circled in front of her. Wordlessly, he gestured for her to face the fourteen members of the jury already seated in the Tribunal Hall. Comprised of gods and goddesses, their white robes glowed with their purity of spirit.
She gave a regal nod. “I thank you for this long overdue audience, great members of the jury.”
A god said, “What good deeds during your lifetime weigh in your favor?”
“Many, o esteemed one,” said Hatshepsut, and she began her speech. Undoubtedly, she had practiced many times, and flawlessly laid out the details. How she’d sent five ships on expeditions to the nation of Punt, and they had returned with coveted ivory, animals, spices, gold, myrrh and trees. How she’d forged long stagnant trade relationships with other countries, resulting in new wealth for her beloved Egypt. How she honored her mother country by having her architects construct impressive monuments and structures, symbols of Egypt’s greatness for her people to honor.
All true, Iker could attest, though none would ask him. Only the queen pharaoh could redeem her soul now.
Another god signaled Anubis, who led Hatshepsut away.
Sanura turned another page in The Book of the Dead. “I call upon you, great goddess Máat, patroness of truth and harmony, to weigh the soul of the queen pharaoh Hatshepsut against the feather of truth.” Her clear voice rang through the courtroom.
The jury vanished from the table in the Tribunal Hall. In their place appeared the goddess Máat, seated beside Thoth, the god of writing and wisdom. Next to him, Thoth's baboon leered at the queen pharaoh.
A gleaming gold scale sat atop the table, awaiting the queen pharaoh’s heart.
Iker drew out the box and solemnly carried it to Máat. He dared not meet her gaze as he presented it to her, but backed away with his head ducked low. When he again had taken up his position behind Sanura, his nerves rattled. What if Hatshepsut’s heart dragged the scale down? The notion had never occurred to him before. While he understood what the judgment would mean for the queen pharaoh, he had no idea what such a result might bring down upon him.
A monster, part crocodile, part lion, and part hippopotamus, whom Iker recognized as Am-mit, “the eater of the
Dead," appeared beside the scales. Snapping jaws showed the creature’s readiness to devour the queen pharaoh should her heart fail to balance against the feather of Máat. But would the creature also then consume Iker?
Anubis led the queen pharaoh before them. Centuries past her death, Hatshepsut finally stood before Máat.
With a screech, the baboon lifted the queen pharaoh’s heart from the box and set it on one side of the scale. Máat slid the red feather from her head to place on the opposite scale. The two sides drifted up, then teetered down, see-sawing in a sickening motion. The baboon hopped to the top of the scale and adjusted the sliding weight. Thoth scribbled notes to record the procedure.
Iker thought his own heart would stop beating. Please. I cannot endure another lifetime of indentured servitude. Or another moment trapped in darkness.
The scale finally rested in balance. Iker released a long breath.
“Hatshepsut, your heart has passed my judgment.” Máat filled a chalice with the sacramental drink that would purify the queen pharaoh.
With ceremonial reverence, Hatshepsut accepted the cup and slowly drained its contents.
Máat beckoned Hatshepsut on toward the boat of the sun. “You may pass to the land in the west, queen pharaoh.”
Sanura finalized the ritual by proclaiming, “Un-k ar kes neter. Thou existest at the side of God.”
With a slow and solemn pace, Hatshepsut moved to the waiting vessel.
Iker’s mind reeled. She was going. Finally. Hatshepsut’s soul would enjoy eternal afterlife. Yet she had not once looked at him. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry. Every moment of his military service, he’d dedicated to her, and now she’d cast him aside without thought.
Hatshepsut turned to Máat. “A moment, if I may, goddess?”
Máat arched a brow, and then nodded. “Of course.”
The queen pharaoh extended her hand to Iker. “Come.”
Alarm froze him in place. Every part of his being screamed, no! But he had no choice. If he tried to run, they’d cut him down instantly.
He stole a glance at Sanura, whose expression mirrored his fear. He couldn’t bear to see her worry, so he mustered a smile. “It will be fine.”
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