by Dee, Debbie
Prince Amenhotep’s eyes scanned the chaotic scene, darting between the retreating servants and the oncoming vessels. The feather bearers remained near Pharaoh, their soothing motions frozen in time. A woman grabbed the prince’s arm, but he shook his head and looked to his father, his chin set in a way that meant he was determined to follow his father’s calm example.
Tiy ran toward the bank, wanting to scream at the prince. Did he think that by doing nothing all would be saved? What was he trying to prove? Tiy fell to her knees, a silent prayer to Hapi, the Nile god, stuck in her throat. A gruesome moaning filled the air as cedar slammed into cedar, hull against hull.
Pharaoh’s barge had been struck.
Chapter 2. Curious Nature
Pandemonium spread across the Nile. Plumed feathers soared into the air as if still attached to birds, the bearers holding their hands out in protection toward Pharaoh and his son. Hundreds of servants flung themselves into the blue waters and swam toward the royal barge. But they would never make it.
The sickening groan of stressed timbers grew louder as the second and final fleet vessel careened into the first, its momentum rolling the Beauties of Amun to her right. It was enough to cause damage, but not enough to destroy her, or free her from the sandy shoal. A gaping hole exposed itself on her side, split open from the impact and wrenched wider as torrents of water rushed into the hull.
Pharaoh sat on his throne-like chair, dictating orders in a voice no more stressed than if he were requesting a cup of tea, but with a strength that left no question of his authority. Tiy felt a swell of pride for her king. The gods were angered by chaos and confusion, and as a god himself, Pharaoh proved he would not succumb to the panic surrounding him.
Papyrus rafts launched from the shoaled Beauties of Amun, the first carrying Pharaoh and Prince Amenhotep to shore while the others were filled to the brim with servants and royal possessions. As supplies and elegant furnishings gathered on the hot desert sand, Tiy swallowed a twinge of regret. Of all the places for them to land, why did they have to find the most barren stretch of Akhmim’s claim on the Nile? There were no trees to provide shade, no wide stretches of grass to offer comfort. It wasn’t fit for Egypt’s king!
The chaos melted into calm order as the servants set about their tasks, their disquiet eased by action. Barrels were fished from the water, as were crates and trunks. Tiy crept forward and crouched behind another shrub as she watched Pharaoh and his son step onto dry land. They were so confident in their manner, so sure of their actions. Pharaoh remained stoic, unaffected by the turn of events, while Prince Amenhotep appeared to be restraining his excitement. The prince’s eyes were dark, yet they were vibrant, sparkling with anticipation. His black hair shone against the sun as his curious gaze darted left and right to take in the scenery.
Tiy knew he was her same age, yet he appeared so much older than the boys in Akhmim. Prince Amenhotep’s arms and shoulders were already developing lean muscle, his chest losing the softness of youth. Her gaze lingered on his smile. It wasn’t curled in pompous pride as she expected from a prince. Rather, it was filled with anticipation and genuine excitement.
Two boys gathered around him and spoke in hushed tones, pointing toward the desert. Prince Amenhotep nodded, his smile widening. He turned to face Pharaoh.
“Father,” he said, his smile replaced by an expression Tiy had seen her father show when he was deep in conversation with another official. Serious, thoughtful, respectful. “It appears our journey will be delayed. I seek your permission to hunt nearby.”
Tiy drew her chin back, surprised by the manner of his request. He spoke with much more formality than she would ever use with her parents. Then again, her parents weren’t royalty.
Pharaoh scowled. Arms folded, he glanced behind his shoulder at the limestone cliffs and surrounding desert. The sand dunes spread like giant anthills, the wind acting as an army of movers perpetually shifting the grains of sand in an ever-changing landscape.
A small breeze swirled through the make-shift camp, bringing with it a whisper of change. The air grew heavier, somehow, and Tiy hoped Shu, the god of wind, would not show his angry face.
“What is it you wish to hunt?” Pharaoh questioned. “There are not many hours left in the day. Four, maybe five.”
Prince Amenhotep’s eyes brightened, but his expression remained thoughtful. “Wild hare, quail, and maybe a gazelle or two.”
“Gazelle?” the corners of Pharaoh’s mouth twitched. “They are quite fast.”
“Not too fast for me.”
Pharaoh slapped his hand on Prince Amenhotep’s shoulder and nodded his agreement. The prince flashed a wide grin and thanked his father. Crossing his right arm to his chest, he bowed at the waist before returning to his friends.
The boys broke open a set of trunks, pulled out bows and arrows, and set off toward the desert. Tiy found herself pulled in their direction, blaming her insatiable curiosity with every step she took toward them. He acted so differently than any other Egyptian boy she’d ever met, and she wanted to confirm her suspicions. Would he behave like a baboon the moment he left his father’s side? All the boys she knew behaved like some breed of monkey. Maintaining a careful distance, she fell into step behind them, interested to know which breed of monkey the Prince of Egypt favored.
But when a half hour turned into an hour, and an hour turned into two, he was still behaving respectfully. So, she decided he must be dim witted—why else wouldn’t he behave like a normal boy?—and might need her to find his way back to the Nile, or warn him of any dangers. His city upbringing couldn’t have prepared him for what might happen in the desert. And considering Shu’s anger could be kindled without notice, she had no way of knowing if the prince would recognize the signs and act accordingly. Never mind her curiosity to witness the moment he behaved like an ape, or an orangutan, or a chimpanzee, she had a duty to protect Egypt’s heir! She knew the desert near Akhmim better than any of the children at her school and could always sense when the winds changed.
She shortened the distance between them, the sand quieting her steps, the wind hushing her labored breathing. Not once did the boys glance behind them as they discussed their travel route. They would have spotted her if they had. But with bows and arrows slung over their shoulders, they were too busy boasting about the size of animals they would capture and the exactness of their aim.
After a distance Tiy grew thirsty and untied the pouch from her waist, taking a sip of water. Unsure how long she would follow the boys, she only took a drink when her tongue was so dry it stuck to the roof of her mouth. Before long, more than half her water was gone.
The sun’s scorching rays seared through her black wig, baking the top of her head. She wanted to fling it into the desert and see how far it would land. But the hot sand stole most of her energy, and she didn’t dare waste what she had left on such a trivial act.
She had never ventured so far into the desert on her own, yet she was strangely at ease among the dunes. As she watched her steps sink into the sand, her life back in Akhmim seemed irrelevant somehow. She wasn’t thinking about her parents and how they might be worrying about her, or how she’d left her room messier than a hen house. She wasn’t even concerned with how she would find her way back home. All thoughts escaped her mind other than obeying the pull within her to follow the prince. She couldn’t explain it, or even understand it. She only knew she couldn’t leave him just yet.
The wind increased, moving the sand and covering her tracks almost before she made them. She glanced back at her disappearing footsteps and then forward again to the boys. They didn’t seem to notice the changing wind. They were too busy slapping each other’s backs or punching shoulders, obviously consumed with the thrill of a possible hunt.
A thin layer of sand swirled around Tiy’s ankles and out across the dunes. The god of wind was becoming restless. Something deep within her belly warned that they should turn back, but she wasn’t sure how she could approach the
prince, especially after she had been sneaking behind him for the better part of two hours.
Tiy bit her lip, a wave of foolishness smothering her thoughts. How could she possibly convince the prince that he must cancel his hunting excursion and go no further? He would think she was crazy! He’d want to know why she had followed him and why she thought he needed to go back. And all she could tell him was that her stomach felt…strange. That is, of course, assuming she could form a coherent sentence in front of him. She’d probably trip over her words and sound like a complete fool.
She closed the space between herself and the boys, wondering how they didn’t sense the urgency in the air. What was it she felt that they couldn’t? Pulling her eyes away from the swirling dunes, she gazed into the sky and froze. She recognized the clouds at once, or rather what looked like clouds. The blooming masses of darkness weren’t clouds at all.
They were rolling death.
Struck with horror, every warning and caution Tiy had received since childhood flashed through her mind. The death clouds held no moisture, only boiling, raging sand, picked up from the desert floor and thrown into the air. For whatever reason, Shu was fuming. The temperamental god had created a storm—a thick and unrelenting sandstorm that would bite against their skin and threaten to bury them deep within its angry grit.
Tiy raced toward Prince Amenhotep. He still didn’t see. They were heading east and the storm uncoiled from the south. Unless the boys turned, she doubted they would notice the wall of sand until it was almost on top of them. But how could they not hear the storm’s growl or its deep hum as it gathered and pushed sand in every direction? She knew boys could be oblivious to the obvious, but this?
With her hair sweeping around her shoulders and into her face, she pushed forward. They had minutes, perhaps moments to react. But the sand slowed her every step, and she realized she wouldn’t reach them in time. She had no choice but to swallow her insecurities and call out to them.
“Prince Amenhotep!” She swallowed.
The prince stopped and turned around, surprise on his face. His eyes widened and then narrowed in confusion, a small line forming between his brows.
“Do I know you?” he called back.
“I...uh...you…” Tiy snapped her mouth shut and pointed to the sky.
Prince Amenhotep fell back a step as his eyes locked with the rolling mass, his hand clutching the shoulder of his nearest friend. He pulled back another step but the look on his face told her that he wasn’t sure what to do. Tiy lurched toward them, desperate to reach them before they were blinded by the whirling sand. But the storm was moving faster than she’d thought. She was too late.
Chapter 3. Lashing Sand
The boys scrambled toward an outcropping of boulders and Tiy raced after them, her feet sinking further and further into the sand with each step. She held an arm across her eyes, but the sand fought back, and the storm rushed forward with renewed vengeance, seeming to gather strength as it sought to swallow her alive. Tiy’s legs burned as she pushed forward. Before she and the boys could reach the boulders, a wall of sand smothered the sun’s light, casting a mask of orange so dark that day became night. They were completely enveloped by darkness.
The boy’s hollering was followed by violent choking, and then silence. That is, silence from the boys. Wind howled in Tiy’s ears, pelting sand into the crevices like a strange Nubian drum. Tiy held her breath and ran in the direction she last saw the boys, but how could she find them when she couldn’t even see her hands as they stretched out in front of her? If she had more time, she would have bent before Shu in quick obeisance, but she pushed forward blindly, knowing she had to help the boys before she could help herself.
The sand stung her bare skin, threatening to break open every surface, scraping it raw in the attempt. With her eyes shut tight, her lips clenched, and her fingers pressed against her nose, she stumbled forward, guided by instinct alone. Her lungs burned, but she knew she couldn’t take a breath. If she did, the sand would choke her into silence just as it had the boys.
She had gone no more than ten paces when she stumbled over a body. Curled over his knees, the boy was already covered in a thick layer of sand. Without thinking, Tiy gasped, and sand scratched its way into her lungs. She knelt by the boy, feeling into the biting wind, and pushed the sand off him. She pulled on his shoulders, and after some relentless tugging on her part, the boy uncurled himself and leaned against her chest, his hands covering his face.
Tiy tore two wide strips from her kalasiris and doused them with water from her pouch. Yanking his hands down, she tied the wet linen over his face. She had no way of knowing if the boy was Prince Amenhotep, but she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. She wrapped the other piece of wet fabric over her entire face and took a deep breath.
“Where are the others?” she shouted. The effort seared her throat with pain. She felt the boy shake his head, still unable to speak. She knew then that he had inhaled so much more of the damaging sand than she had. He was likely in a considerable amount of pain, but when she hooked his arm with hers, he seemed willing enough to let her pull him across the sand as she searched for his comrades. She listened for any choking sounds, but the abrasive sand whipped against her ears.
A tug in her mind told her to turn right so, with her chin to her chest, she crawled in the direction, hoping her instincts would lead her to someone alive—if what she felt was instinctual at all. She bumped into another body and a surge of elation burned within her. But when she felt for his clothing, her heart sank. This boy was already so far within the sand she wondered if he could breathe at all.
Unlinking her arm with the first boy, she dug with both hands, pushing the sand off the second boy’s back and away from his body. The first boy leaned forward and dug as well, his shoulders bumping against hers as they worked together. Her fingers hurt and protested the fierce digging, but she had to keep going. She had to find them all.
With another firm tug at a pair of shoulders and another section of her kalasiris torn, she had another boy linked to her arms. She and the boys crouched close to each other, huddled in the angry sand, no one wanting to move but knowing one more boy still needed to be found.
The sun still hadn’t broken through the thick storm, abandoning them to a darkness that seemed to press on her as heavily as the sand. Tiy turned her head away from the biting wind, but it was of no use. Sand lashed at her from every direction. Her cheeks were raw, her lips burning. Several minutes passed as they crawled through the hot dunes, stretching their arms into the black void. The sand beat at them, tore at their clothes, and chafed their tender skin, but they kept searching for the third boy.
Tiy feared that if they didn’t find some form of protection soon, none of them would survive through the storm. As it was, she could barely resist the urge to curl up and let the sand overtake her. She couldn’t go on for much longer and feared that if she collapsed, the boys wouldn’t be that far after her. If she could find the boulders, they might have a chance, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull the boys toward safety. Not yet. With one boy still left among the dunes, she couldn’t be certain the heir of Egypt was safe. She didn’t want to leave any of them behind, but she had to at least be certain Egypt wouldn’t lose another prince.
She turned in toward the others and attempted to call out over the blinding storm. “Who are you?” She shouted. But the winds swept her voice away before it reached them. “Who are you?” she shouted again, using as much force as her scratched throat would allow.
She leaned close only to hear unintelligible hacking.
So they would keep searching. They crawled in a widening spiral, their heads hung low and their free arms spread wide. What felt like ten minutes passed, then ten more, and then another fifteen. If he was buried, he was dead. Even she had to accept that.
The boy in the center of the survival chain collapsed. Tiy tugged on his arm, but he wouldn’t budge. Panic flooded her body. She grasped for the fabr
ic covering his face. A small amount of water still clung to the linen, but it wouldn’t hold for much longer.
She curled toward the alert boy and shouted in his ear. “We will have to drag him toward the rocks.”
He didn’t say anything, but began pulling on the unconscious boy, and she knew he had understood. Together they dragged the boy in the direction she hoped were the boulders.
After what seemed like hours, but couldn’t have been more than another fifteen minutes, they bumped into a hard, ridged surface. Tiy cried out with relief and wrapped her arms around the alert boy, ignoring the tiny grains of sand that grated into her raw skin. He pushed her toward the boulders and into a crevice just wide enough for them to squeeze into. They pulled the unconscious boy in with them and huddled together.
Tiy trembled with relief, yet the death of the last boy festered in her mind. How could she have let herself fail? She buried her face into her palms, shame pricking at her from the inside out. Even if the boy in the sand wasn’t the prince, he was still a life lost.
The alert boy leaned over and wrapped his free arm around her, consoling her as if she was a friend and not some lowly ranch girl. She leaned into him and let her head rest on his shoulder, ignoring the throbbing ache that spread across her cheek. She didn’t have the strength to think about whose shoulder she rested on and whether or not it belonged to a prince. As it was, she could barely get a full breath without coughing up sand.
The hours crawled forward as they huddled around the fallen boy. Tiy listened to the harsh sand beat against the rocks, uncertainty hovering over her. At any moment, the jackal-headed god of death might find them, and they would have no choice but to follow him to the Underworld. She shivered.
Chapter 4. Found
The sandstorm raged on with unrelenting strength. Despite her consuming regret for the third boy, Tiy fell into an exhausted sleep, her body demanding the energy to heal. She awoke to the sounds of voices calling across the desert. Turning her ear toward the calls, she tried to understand their words, but heard no more than muffled shouts. The wind had ceased and the sand had settled, but when she opened her eyes, she still saw nothing but blackness. Had the sand damaged her eyes as well as her ears?