Wardens of Eternity

by Courtney Allison Moulton

  Anubis launched at Set, shoving his hands and power into Set’s chest and sending him flying into the wall of a building, shattering stone.

  Anubis lunged forward, throwing a punch into the side of Set’s masked face, and his head snapped to the right with a crack. Set’s arm shot forward, taking hold of Anubis by the throat, and he threw the younger immortal at the ground so hard he crushed the pavement.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t anticipate you protecting the girl?” Set spat at him, the sculpted and painted lips of his mask frozen yet unable to hide the rage hidden beneath.

  “Anticipate this.” Anubis charged Set, barreling into him and knocking them both into the air, but instead of falling, their forms vanished into shadows. When the darkness dissipated, both immortals were gone.

  Staying low, I scrambled toward the lost satchel. I flung it over my head, tightened the strap across my chest, and darted toward my motorcycle. I started it up and sped off into a narrow alley. The spooked chickens and ducks would have to forgive me. I needed to stay off the main streets to shake any possible pursuers.

  I took a hard right onto a wider road and headed toward the next alley.

  Blinding headlights and a thundering horn overwhelmed my senses.

  I hit the brake hard and threw up my hands with a scream of terror and surprise. My instinctive taw spell slammed into a massive truck, smashing its grill and lifting it off the ground. Its undercarriage filled my vision as it flipped and landed upside down with an earth-shaking crunch.

  My heart was a feral animal my chest, beating and leaping. I gaped at what I’d done.

  Men in soldier’s uniforms leapt from the truck behind the one I’d destroyed to help those trapped within. More appeared from behind me, whipping past me to join their mates. One of the enormous mechanical suits I saw at the airport plodded forward, belching a cloud of diesel smoke, and bent over to lift the truck off its side.

  A woman shouted something at me in French, her voice stricken. When I ignored her, she yelled in Arabic, too fast for me to translate in my head.

  I turned around, in so much shock I didn’t recognize her at first—the Nazi woman. Her blue eyes were wide as she stared at me, at the wreck behind me, and at me again.

  “You did that,” she said, her accent German. It wasn’t a question. She’d seen everything.

  I shook my head, dazed, and I tried to start my bike again.

  “Tell me how you did that,” she demanded. “Girl? Can you hear me?”

  “I have to go,” I said blearily in English. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re American?” she asked. “I can help you.”

  The bike roared to life. “You can’t. I’m sorry for what I did.”

  “Wait!” she cried.

  She grabbed my arm, but I tore away from her as I sped off, leaving the scene behind me.

  ANUBIS

  Anubis hadn’t had a plan when he’d grabbed Set and transmigrated them both to the farthest place from Egypt he could imagine. The moment they stopped, Set blasted himself apart from Anubis, hurling both immortals through a blinding storm of wind and snow. The ground rumbled with volcanic tremors and rivers of molten rock flowed around them, offering a vision of hell. Glowing cracks split earth, releasing gas so hot it turned the whipping snow into rain and then vapor. His kind did not stray here; this wasteland belonged to the gods of fire and ice.

  Set leveled his black gold gaze through the slits of his mask on Anubis with a snarl. “To hell with Ammit. I’ll eat your heart myself.”

  Anubis blasted a taw spell into the nearest molten river, splashing lava and fire onto Set’s skin. The elder god howled in pain and fury as he clawed at himself. His knees hit the shaking ground and a mix of ash and snowflakes clung to his body.

  Anubis’s first thought was to return to Ziva, but he had to keep the chaos god busy for as long as he could, to hold out until his inevitable defeat and likely death.

  Set pushed himself to his feet, gasping in pain. He relinquished his mask, withdrawing his power to heal himself. “You test me, boy. In five thousand years, I have never experienced a bigger thorn in my backside.”

  “I’m flattered, but we both know you have bigger problems than me,” Anubis shot back. Magic sparked in his hands.

  Set’s laugh was low and dark. Molten rock dripped from his body, leaving behind jagged strips of raw, burned flesh that healed into rose marble scars and then to perfection. “It’s not too late to make the smart decision. All past transgressions can be forgotten. Join me, Anubis. You were born to.”

  “I was born to serve humanity,” Anubis declared. “You had—and have—nothing to do with my existence.”

  Without the mask, shadows passed over the chaos god’s face. A fresh wound was cut over old scars; sorrow knitted the gash together again. After a long pause burned guilt into Anubis’s heart, Set replied, “That fact doesn’t mean I wouldn’t accept you as my son as you should have been. I had dreamed of a child, too, as desperately as your mother had. I have never blamed you for our mistakes, and I’ve forgiven her.”

  “I don’t think your forgiveness concerns her, it’s your actions,” Anubis said venomously, but the look of dejection he received made him want to take it back.

  Fire flashed, and the blinding snow lashed the immortals.

  “Anubis—”

  “If you loved my mother, you would have destroyed Apophis and let it alone. But you desired power more than her. More than you longed for a child.”

  “I did it for her!” Set roared, gold blazing in his eyes. “I did it to make her queen!”

  “You did it for yourself!” Anubis yelled back, a thousand fires burning in his heart. “Everything you’ve done has been out of selfishness. You say you want to save our people, but the only way to do that is for you to get everything you’ve ever wanted?” He paused, anticipating a response from Set but received none. He continued, “And yet, my mother’s heart still belongs to you, because she isn’t selfish, and she knows she is all you have left. She knows if you lost her, you will have lost everything, and she would not do that to you. She still believes in you!”

  A tremendous explosion in the distance filled the storm-lit sky with flames, molten rock, and ash. The earth trembled and pitched, knocking the immortals off balance. The volcano prepared to erupt.

  “Anubis, I must have the queen’s heart,” Set said, his voice low and urgent. “I must avenge my honor and your mother’s honor. Your honor. The netherworld will see the rise of a new dynasty.”

  “The mortal world is at stake!” Anubis shouted, his anguish tearing at his throat. “The Medjai are resolved to protect it and we must help them. Join us and save your eternal spitting match with Osiris for later. Don’t pollute your soul any more than power already has. I believe in you too.”

  The rivers of fire reflected in the flashing gold of Set’s eyes. “I loathe to say your mother has whelped a fool,” he growled with so much malice that for the first time in a long, long time, Anubis felt real fear slither through his insides.

  CHAPTER

  19

  All noise was drowned from my ears by the scream of my bike’s engine, but I did a better job at looking both ways before I burst out onto a street. Relief hit me when I saw Nasira blazing toward me on her own machine. She skidded to a stop as I parked in the middle of the road.

  “Ziva!” she cried breathlessly, shoving her goggles out of her face. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you hurt?”

  I shook my head. “I have the artifact. It’s safe. Is Sayer with you?”

  Her eyes widened. “No! I thought he was with you!”

  Fear rattled my thoughts and I fought for clarity. “Take this to the Pyramidion. We got caught up with kriosphinxes and Sayer stayed behind to let me escape. That’s when I ran into Set.”

  The color drained from my friend’s face.

  “His creatures must have been spying all over the city,” I said, calculating. “I have to go ba
ck for Sayer.” I handed her the satchel and was surprised she didn’t argue with me. “You aren’t going to stop me?”

  Nasira’s gaze grew hard. “He’s my brother, Ziva. Family is everything. Find him.”

  Fixing my goggles back into place, I kicked the motorcycle into gear and sped toward where I last saw Sayer.

  The street was like a warzone. Motorcars, food carts, shop displays—all had been reduced to scattered debris. The block was void of life. Sayer’s motorcycle lay mangled at the base of a crushed stone wall. He was nowhere to be seen.

  “Sayer?” I called, feeling a flutter of panic. “Sayer!”

  I ran down the street, calling his name, knowing that doing so put me at risk, but I had to find him. He had to be all right. I turned a corner, searching the darkness, driven by fear.

  “Ziva?” a weak voice replied.

  I whirled with a wildness at the sound of his voice and spied his form shuffling toward me in the haze of dust. Immediately I knew something was wrong—and then he collapsed.

  “Sayer!” I rushed to his side and helped him lean against a dusty sedan for support. His body was slumped and tense, his jacket missing, and his black shirt was shredded to tatters across his back.

  “I had really hoped you’d not come back for me, but I’m glad you did,” he groaned. “Where is the satchel?”

  “Your sister has it.”

  “Good.”

  “Loafing around on the job, are you?” I asked, trying to sound playful around the tremble in my voice.

  “If there hadn’t been two of the damed beasts, I wouldn’t have had to put my back to one.” He eased forward, and I grimaced at the grisly marks slashed deep into his shoulder. I leaned over him to get a better look, touching him gently in the hope I could soothe his pain. When I looked down, I saw more slashes in his jeans and his skin was slick with blood. His knee appeared to have taken a terrible blow.

  “We’ll get you fixed up,” I promised him, meeting his dark gaze and finding something intense stirring there. Those eyes roved over my face, seeping deep through my skin.

  “Something bad happened a few blocks away,” he said softly. “I could hear it. I tried to get there. You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I’m all right,” I told him. “Set showed his face, but I got away. His motivations are more complicated, as we suspected. They don’t end with stopping Nefertari. He wants the heart to kill Osiris and become king of the netherworld and the mortal world.”

  Sayer released a long, dragging breath, and after a few moments to absorb what I’d told him, he nodded. “Then we’ve really got to find that heart before he does.”

  “First, let’s get you back on your feet,” I told him. “How does your healing magic work on yourself?”

  “Not as well as I’d like,” he grumbled.

  “I’d try summoning Anubis, but I can’t promise that won’t give up our location to Set,” I said dismally. “I don’t know what became of either of them. If Anubis got hurt, I’ll hate myself. I thought he could hold his own better than I could.”

  “He wants to help you,” Sayer urged. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I would’ve faced Set for you.”

  “You faced a pair of kriosphinxes alone for me,” I reminded him.

  “And you’re safe,” he said, smiling. “Let’s swing, shall we?”

  “Can you ride?” I asked doubtfully.

  “Certainly not,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

  I started to help him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his back and lifting him. He buried his face into the bend of my neck and groaned, favoring his injured knee.

  “The hard part’s over,” I told him gently. “You’re up.”

  “What do you say we hotwire one of these tin cans?” he suggested. “I’m not so keen on limping all the way home.”

  “You can do it with magic?” I asked, surprised.

  “I can do that with my hands,” he replied.

  I laughed. “All right, hotshot. Show me your stuff.”

  Cyrene frowned as she listened to my recap of the encounter with Set, her brow etched with anger. When I finished, she said nothing. She only glared at thin air. I waited for a reaction, exchanging glances with Sayer, who was so wrapped up in bandages he looked quite like a mummy.

  Tariq looked up from the desk where he worked at translating the third canopic jar’s hieratic script. “The important thing is you made it home safe. That’s all you needed to do tonight.”

  “Something else happened and I’m not sure what it means,” I started, feeling uncertain. “I ran into the Nazis we’ve seen around Cairo. The woman who’d been with them was there and she saw me use magic.”

  “Don’t fret too much over that,” Nasira said gently. “Ensuring no one is hurt is more important than staying covert.”

  “She was . . .” I trailed off, trying to find the right word. “Interested. Very much so. She demanded I tell her how I did it.”

  Cyrene at last broke her silence. “I have heard rumors of Adolf Hitler’s interest in the occult.” She swallowed hard. “Experiments on people. Archaeological expeditions. I was concerned they might be in Egypt for the latter, but if they catch our scent, they’ll want to know more about our magic.”

  “What could they possibly want with us?” I asked. “There’s no way we’d ever join their ranks.”

  Her expression grew very dark and very serious. “Their attempts to convince us would be as terrible as if they were trying to destroy us.”

  “We can’t worry about that now,” Tariq said. “We’ll avoid them, do our best to stay low, and do our jobs. The hieratic here states, ‘Her greatest treasure shall reveal her secret resting place.’ It must mean the fourth sacred organ protected by Duamutef, the jackal. The inscription states it is hidden at the Temple of Nefertari, depicted as the goddess Hathor, beside the Sun Temple of Ramesses II.”

  “These days, the complex is called Abu Simbel,” Nasira told me.

  “Ah,” I said, recalling the site from books. “There are two temples within the complex, one dedicated to a war victory and a second smaller temple to Nefertari. Logically, something important to her would’ve been placed in her temple, and not her husband’s. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Nefertari’s temple quite small? If something was hidden there, wouldn’t it have been found already?”

  Sayer nodded. “There are two known chambers, yes, the vestibule and the sanctuary. But our ancestors built hidden rooms inside tombs and temples all the time to protect them from plunderers. For example, the queen anticipated her official tomb could be robbed and so she had a second tomb built for herself. That’s where her mummy is.”

  “Nefertari was Medjai and she trusted her secrets only to her own people,” Cyrene said. “We have always known she’d constructed a false tomb, but this was one of two clues to her resurrection she gave us. Your destiny was our second clue. She was very, very careful and very, very clever.”

  “What will we do once we reach the temple?” I asked. “Is there some spell we need to use in order to find the hidden artifact? Something to reveal an invisible object, or a doorway?”

  “Possibly,” Sayer said. “We’ll know once we arrive. There are all sort of spells, but most are for protection from malevolent creatures. There’s even a spell to pacify beasts—sehar.”

  “What?” I sputtered. “If that’s true, then why do we bother fighting the kriosphinxes?”

  “They are already pacified,” he explained, crushing my excitement. “They belong to Set.”

  “We must leave at first light for Abu Simbel,” Tariq declared.

  Cyrene folded her arms. “Sayer, come with me and we’ll heal those wounds. Girls, get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  In the morning, we indeed left at first light. To be fair, we left before first light. Thankfully I’d packed my equipment the night before, so I was ready when Cyrene knocked on my door earlier than I’d expected. The Medjai took several cars to
the docks, and when we arrived I yet again found myself ignoring instructions. As soon as we were permitted to board, I darted to the bow and stayed there until long after we’d departed. Our air ferry was approximately the same size as the steam ferries which still traveled by water below us. They cut through the Nile noisily, their paddle wheels slapping water. Traveling through the air felt smooth, but we left a trail of black diesel smoke in our wake.

  The banks of the Nile stretched into fields and rows of green grain crops sprouted from black mud. People waded waist deep in the water, filling pots, washing clothes, and bathing. Behind them, flat-roofed houses dotted dry land between groves of unripe apple-green olives and pomegranates. The tangerine sun of early morning splashed across the golden pyramids and the peaceful face of the Great Sphinx beyond them. In my mind’s eye, I imagined what they had looked like thousands of years ago, when their golden limestone still gleamed white as moonlight.

  I saw clouds floating on the river’s surface, but at second glance I realized my clouds were huge, white sails dwarfing small narrow boats. They moved smoothly, perfectly, as though they weren’t a physical part of this world, more ghosts of the sun than anything else.

  “They are feluccas,” Sayer explained, appearing beside me. “The Nile is a very long river and the generous wind makes sailing ideal.”

  I turned to him, leaning against the rail and letting my head fall back. He gazed down at me warmly, his quiet smile forming a dimple in one of his cheeks.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I told him, lifting my hand to touch his shoulder and finding the injuries magically healed. He didn’t seem tender at all there and he melted into my touch.