Wardens of Eternity

by Courtney Allison Moulton

  Cyrene negotiated the purchase of camels from a Tuareg man in an indigo-dyed turban I learned was called a shesh, and we packed our things into saddlebags and bedrolls for the journey. My camel was mild-mannered, and he didn’t have a name, so I gave him one. I always thought Clark Gable was a terribly handsome man and as my camel was also terribly handsome, I named him Clark Camel. It was a much better name than just Camel. He drooled quite a bit and his burps stank, but he seemed to like me. He didn’t pay much attention to me until I hid grain in my pockets. It wasn’t long before he started to root around for snacks. His loyalty was clearly won by food, but I was glad to have it.

  “I hate camels,” Nasira grumbled as she pulled to no avail on her ride’s lead to get him to lay down in order to be saddled. The animal groaned and resisted heavily on his hind end. “I want a horse!” she added loudly enough for Cyrene to have heard from across the livery.

  I looked up at Clark Camel, who watched me intently with his big, beautiful brown eyes and thick lashes. He chewed his cud peacefully and patiently. I held his lead in one hand and left my free hand palm-up. When I pulled gently on his lead and tapped his foreleg, he lay right down in front of me. I gave him a pat and a snack before saddling him.

  “How did you do that?” Nasira inquired with suspicion. “Camels don’t like to do anything. You literally cannot train them.”

  My mount turned his head to groan open-mouthed at me. I gave him a scratch on his broad face. “He wants to be treated like a proper fellow, I imagine.”

  Nasira huffed gruffly. “He’s a big, ugly sod.”

  I wondered how riding a camel differed from riding a horse. Clark Camel’s stride was long and slow, and I rocked side-to-side in the saddle. The rhythm was very pleasant, despite the violent heat of the air.

  Once we crossed the river and headed into the Western Desert, we found Anubis and the sphinx Baket waiting among the ruins of a small temple. Here they seemed much less out of place than they would have in the city. We dismounted and tethered our animals to each other, and as I removed my scarf from my face, I gave a handful of grain to Clark Camel. His stunningly prehensile lips roved over my entire hand without dropping a single seed. I wiped my palm on my pants and gave his head a pat. He thanked me with an open-mouthed, toxic burp.

  Anubis wore a natural-colored linen tunic resembling a jellabiya, its hem dancing in the breeze around his sandaled feet. He pushed back his hood and offered me a warm smile. “Hello, friend.”

  “Hello to you,” I returned and acknowledged the sphinx. “I’m glad to see you again, Baket.”

  She closed her eyes and pushed her forehead into my palm in greeting as she purred. “My heart sings to hear your voice, lady.”

  When she opened her eyes, they were level with mine and belonged to a not-quite-human face. Not only was she like nothing I’d ever seen before, far more magnificent than the kriosphinxes or Kauket’s dark beauty, but the sphinx’s face alone possessed such enchanting magnetism. The effect reminded me of those women you see on the street who are so truly beautiful you can’t help but stare, as if they were a mirage. One blink, and they might be gone. I feared I could lose my soul to Baket’s gaze.

  I could only imagine how my old friend Jean would react if she knew I’d befriended a flesh and blood sphinx.

  “I trust you’re prepared for this final leg of your journey,” Anubis said. “I’ll ride with you. My protection may be needed.”

  His voice yanked my mind back to the present. The sun blinded me. The sand burned my feet through the soles of my boots. My camel stretched his nose forward and sniffed the god of death’s hands for a snack.

  “You’ve got to know how sorry I am about summoning you to fight Set,” I confessed to him.

  His brow furrowed. “Don’t apologize. I gave you the amulet to call on me when you needed me.”

  “I was so scared I’d made a terrible mistake,” I admitted.

  Anubis touched my cheek tenderly to reassure me. “You acquired what you needed. And you’ve made a friend of one of my mother’s soldiers.”

  “It’s true,” Baket purred. “The lady of night and protection braided and beaded my mane herself. I thank you for freeing me from the temple.”

  “I freed you?” I asked, surprised and perplexed.

  “Nefertari summoned me to protect her heart long ago,” the sphinx told me. “Longer than I can remember. Her magic compelled me to stay there—alone—until you set me free. I serve you, Ziva, of the house of the Great Ancestor, Favored of the Sun.”

  Cyrene passed behind me and said, “It will be dark soon. We’ll camp here.”

  I’d never set up a tent before and it took me longer than the others to finish. The positive side was by the time I’d finished, several fires had already been built and dinner was close at hand. I feasted on kabobs of roasted lamb and vegetables. I shared my treats with Baket—partly because I so enjoyed listening to the delicate rumble of her purr. The orphanage had had several cats who kept the rodents away, but few had been tame enough to touch. One in particular, a tuxedo tom, had a motor like a truck’s and he loved to sit on me as I petted him. Baket was sadly far too large to sit in my lap.

  The universe was ablaze above our temple sanctuary, and I sat beside Sayer in front of our fire with my head on his shoulder, my belly full and satisfied. I imagined our ancestors praising the gods at this very site, their incense and ritual chants filling the chambers, calling forth magic to bless the surrounding earth. Baket lay curled in a giant ball, her dainty features and toes twitching as she slept. I wondered if the sphinx dreamed the same dreams cats do, whatever those were. Mice and feathers, I supposed. She mewed awake and stretched, spreading her taloned paws and human jaw filled with feline fangs.

  The big fire in the middle of camp had the most seated around it. A Medjai man brought out a rebab, an instrument which resembled a fiddle, and he caressed its strings with a long bow. His fingers plucked and quivered against those strings with an elegant, practiced speed as if they belonged to a lover. When Nasira sat beside him and began to sing, my visions of the past came to life. Her voice, along with the rebab’s delicate notes, the vulnerability of it, possessed a magic of its own. I was utterly bewitched. As Nasira sang, her expression crushed with passion, I felt my heart wrench into knots and willed it not to tear into pieces.

  “I didn’t know she could sing,” I said to Sayer in a quiet voice so as not to interrupt.

  “Music around a campfire is a Medjai tradition, but she’s much better than the rest of us, so we let her do it. She would teach you some songs if you’d like.”

  I smiled, listening carefully. “What is she saying?”

  He explained the song to me softly, so I wouldn’t miss the beauty of her voice. “This is a very old Medjai song, from long before we were taken into pharaoh’s service as soldiers, when we lived between the desert and the sky. ‘Storyteller, storyteller, sing me a story, a tale of princes and princesses, and of spies and lovers and gods. Sing me a story of evil vanquished and the triumph of good. Sing to me of stones falling from the sky, of rain to turn the desert to gardens. Storyteller, storyteller, we are all children in our hearts, who have only dreams to look forward to, and no nightmares chasing us from behind. Storyteller, sing me a story.’”

  Time passed, and I stirred, somewhat disoriented, until I realized I’d fallen asleep, curled up beside Sayer with my head in his lap. I didn’t open my eyes, enjoying his body’s warmth in the cool night air and the sounds of music and conversation—some English, some Arabic—all around us.

  “Do you love her?” The honeyed voice could only have belonged to Baket.

  “That must be a sphinx’s riddle,” came Sayer’s reply.

  I peeked with one eye to spy her slow, feline smile before I pretended to sleep. My heart quickened, and I prayed he wouldn’t feel it.

  “Is it?” she asked with little innocence in her voice.

  “There are few things which survive death and time
,” he said vaguely. “Hatred and love are two of them. You can’t feel true hatred without having first felt true love. To know one, you must know the other.”

  “Forgive me for not understanding human emotions, but why do you speak of hate when I ask you of love?”

  I wondered the same thing. If anyone here spoke in riddles, it wasn’t the sphinx.

  Sayer exhaled. “Because an ageless and hateful fate has brought me to Ziva.”

  “What fate do you mean?” Baket asked.

  “All this time,” he said, “I’d fooled myself into believing what I felt was real, because it was expected of me, but what has directed the course of my life was always artificial. I hadn’t realized how true hate felt until I met her—not hate of Ziva, of course. Rather, hate of those who intend to hurt her. Hate ensures I won’t let that happen. A curious pair, love and hate. I’m certain hatred can’t be felt until the heart’s been broken.”

  “You speak as if you know this wound,” Baket replied.

  He hesitated. “My mother died recently.”

  “I see,” the sphinx said, her voice gentle.

  “Have you ever been in love?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied, her voice surprised as though she expected him to already have known the answer to his question. “It’s not in my nature to love.”

  “Is hate in your nature?”

  “No. So I suppose you must be right. My heart has been sad, but never broken.”

  “To answer and to not answer your question,” Sayer said, trailing off, his hand brushing my hair behind my neck. “I haven’t known Ziva for very long, but for the sake of sounding like every failed poet ever, some primeval part of me has always known her. Perhaps it’s because she’s been sort of mythologized among our people, or because we’re so terribly alike.” A soft laugh came from him. “But her instinct and her wit and her conviction—these things are so beautiful to me. That same primeval force within me wants them to be mine—needs them. I don’t mean to possess her, like she’s some pillar of gold, but I need her fire to light my every day and warm my every night. I would end the fool who tries to smother her flame.”

  A soft purr came from the sphinx. “That indeed answers my question.”

  “But I didn’t say yes or no,” he replied.

  “You don’t need to.”

  Sayer twirled a lock of my hair between his fingers. “I don’t understand.”

  “Love on a human’s face is unforgettable,” the sphinx said. “It’s the only place where such a thing becomes tangible. Love is on your lips, your cheeks, and it’s brightest in your eyes, like starlight against nothingness. When you look at the lady, I know love. I see it.”

  “If you can see love on my face, then why did you ask me if I loved her?”

  She answered, “I wasn’t sure if you knew you did.”

  They grew quiet and once more the music and levity of the night lulled me to peace. I became jarringly aware of the world again as my body came into contact with a soft surface, surrounding me with the scent of fabric and Sayer himself. He’d carried me to my bed in my tent. I opened my eyes to gaze into his face as he lay me down.

  “I’m not sure if I love you, since I’ve never loved anyone before,” I told him groggily. “But I need you.”

  His hair, loose from its tie, brushed my cheek. His mouth pulled into a warm, sweet smile. “I need you.”

  He kissed me, a tender brush of his lips on mine, and I scarcely had the energy to kiss him back.

  “Stay,” I said to him.

  He lay beside me and I wasn’t sure how long he would wait before he’d leave, depending on how proper this was, or if he paid any mind to propriety. I burrowed myself into his embrace, our limbs tangled. For however long he’d stay with me, I was glad for it.

  The next morning, I waited for the sun to rise and I held out the queen’s heart in front of me. The dawn light struck the enormous ruby and fired far into the desert, shining the way for us. Clark Camel and I readied ourselves, though I was moderately embarrassed at how poorly I rolled my tent. The lumpy mess sat awkwardly on the back of my saddle and I’d done my best to strap it down. With luck, I wouldn’t lose it out in the wilderness.

  Our camels proved hardy and didn’t seem bothered by the heat or how far they had to take us. Most of the ancient temples, tombs, and cities had been built close to the Nile since the desert was so inhospitable. Even our ancestors didn’t want to go too far from water. There seemed to be no end to the sands or my thirst. Baket seemed immune to the elements as she walked beside me. While my hood and scarf protected my skin from the sun, the kohl shielded my eyes from the brightness of the sun and any flies tagging along on Clark Camel.

  As the sun rose higher, the burnished gold color of the sand lightened to the same shade of tawny brown as our camels. We scaled mountainous dunes and avoided impassible rocky formations. We crossed a plain of strange stone monuments naturally carved into mushroom shapes, whose stems had been eaten away for eons by the whipping wind and sand. Something appeared on the horizon at last and I squinted hard but was unable to make out the form that seemed to be waving in the extreme heat. The terrain became rougher and more dangerous, and the animals worked harder to scale the rising altitudes without injury. We passed a strikingly unique landscape of limestone and colorful rock jutting skyward from the sand. Great clusters of crystal pillars taller than me shone blindingly beneath the sun.

  As we got closer, a mountain took shape on the horizon. The red beam from the ruby struck the mountain’s peak, shining as bright as a second sun.

  “This is it,” I called to the others. “Up there!”

  Anubis dismounted, peered toward the sky, the desert wind snatched at his tunic and pulled the hood back from his face. “I’ll investigate. See you in a moment.”

  He vanished and we waited, tired and hot, for his confirmation. After a few moments, he returned.

  “There’s a dais and an entrance to a cave a hundred feet above,” he said. “It’s high enough that the opening was never filled with sand. There will be no trouble getting inside.”

  “Sure, no trouble after we climb this hundred-foot-tall rock wall,” Nasira said with a grin.

  Sayer hopped down from his camel and dug through his saddlebags to pull out climbing gear. He seemed on edge, tense for some reason I supposed was anticipation for the end of our journey. All we’d done and worked for had come down to this moment. But victory wasn’t ours quite yet.

  Once we were set up, Anubis and Baket winked away to wait for us at the cave entrance. As far as rock climbing went, going up was a lot harder than going down. If I hadn’t worn so much protective clothing and swapped my fingerless combat gloves for full climbing ones, the sharp, jagged rock would have shredded my skin. When we all reached the dais, I removed my harness and ropes, troubled by Anubis’s concerned expression.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him.

  “There’s something preventing Baket and me from entering the cave,” he explained. “Try going in yourself.”

  I nodded and inspected the opening carefully before I reached forward. My fingers passed the threshold and I felt nothing besides a prickle of magic. Confident, I stepped forward and entered. I looked back at Anubis. “There must be some kind of warding against immortals.”

  “Nefertari was clever to protect her resting place from anyone but Medjai,” Cyrene noted. “She exhausted all measures to ensure her resurrection.”

  I turned around and peered into the darkness. “Tahen,” I cast softly. The netherlight glow illuminated a short way into the deep tunnel, but there wasn’t much to be seen from here.

  An explosion of energy knocked me to the ground. The mountain trembled beneath my body. I whirled in shock to see Baket leap, claws outstretched, toward Kauket, the gold mask concealing her face ablaze in the sunlight. With a wave of her arm, the goddess blasted Baket with a fiery khet spell. The sphinx landed, twisting, shrieking, engulfed with flame. Kauket’s second spell
upended the ground between them and catapulted Baket. Her claws wildly lashed at the air as she flew, scraping rock, but she could not stop herself from falling over the side of the cliff.

  “Baket!” I shrieked, the sound tearing from my throat.

  Anubis drew the sword from the sheath at his waist, his own mask of gold forming across his face, and screamed, “Ziva, go!”

  Horror took me like a riptide. Nasira grabbed my arm.

  “Let’s move!” she shouted, but her voice seemed distant.

  I swallowed hard, my friends’ fates uncertain, and I did what I came here to do.

  CHAPTER

  23

  Inside the passage, everything became too quiet too quickly. My sharp gasp cut through the silence.

  Cyrene’s tahen spell illuminated the blackness. “We must keep going,” she directed.

  We descended deep into the tunnel, which had been chiseled from rock with less embellishment than expected for a royal tomb. The queen’s enemies and tomb raiders would never have expected to find anything important in this hole in the mountainside. It was deceptively plain, and I understood why the lavishly decorated empty tomb had been such a perfect decoy. Here, the walls were narrow. The ceiling was low. The ground was uneven. I stepped lightly and carefully so as not to trip and twist an ankle.

  Sayer’s arm shot across my chest, stopping me in my tracks. “There’s a drop off.” He pointed to the ground, and I shone my netherlight orb at the toes of my boots. Pebbles and grit broke away from the rock and fell into oblivion.

  We prepared our climbing equipment once again. Tariq was the first to scale the rope, sliding down easily with his gloved hands, kicking off the rock wall to give himself a boost. A few moments later, his boots scraped earth.