Warlock: A Novel of Ancient Egypt (Novels of Ancient Egypt)

by Wilbur Smith

  Bay started a small fire of dried horse dung, and when it was burning steadily they pricked the ends of their thumbs and squeezed out a few red drops into the flames. With the whiff of burned blood in the air they faced the enemy, for they could feel that the influence was in the western segment, from the direction that they had come. They exerted their combined powers and after a while they felt it begin to diminish, and disperse like the smoke of the dying fire.

  When they had completed the ritual, and were smothering the fire with sand, Bay said softly, “It is still there.”

  “Yes,” Taita said. “We have weakened it, but it is still dangerous, especially to those who have not learned how to resist it.”

  “The youngest will be more susceptible,” Bay suggested. “The two boys, Pharaoh and Meren, and the girl.”

  They went back to where the chariots waited. Before they mounted again Taita spoke to the others. He knew that they would be frightened if he mentioned the true reason for his concern, so he said, “We are entering the most inhospitable and dangerous area of the dune-lands. I know you are all tired and thirsty, drained by the rigors of the journey, but it could be fatal for any of you to become careless. Watch the horses and the ground ahead. Do not allow yourselves to be distracted by any strange sound or by an unusual sight, a bird or an animal.” He paused and looked directly at Nefer. “That applies to you particularly, Your Majesty. Be on your guard at all times.”

  Nefer nodded and for once did not argue. The rest of them also looked grave, realizing that Taita had some reason of his own to give them this warning.

  As they went forward again, following the valleys between the high dunes, the heat seemed to increase with every turn of the chariot wheels. The loose sand walls that rose on either hand took on a motley array of vivid colors, lemon yellow and gold, plum, purple and heron-blue, fox-red and tawny lion-brown. In places the dunes were streaked with frosty talc, or etched with patterns of black sand like the soot of an oil lamp.

  Overhead the sky turned brazen and ferocious. The quality of light changed: it became yellow and ethereal. Distances were rendered confusing and distorted. Nefer slitted his eyes against the shimmering glare of the brassy sky. It seemed close enough to touch with the end of his whip. At the same time, the shape of Taita’s vehicle only fifty cubits ahead seemed to recede to a blurred and distant horizon.

  The heat scorched any exposed skin on face or body. Nefer felt a formless dread take hold of him. There was no reason for it, but he could not shake it off.

  When Mintaka shuddered against him and gripped his whip arm he knew that she had sensed it too. Great evil hung in the air. He wanted to call out to Taita, to ask him for guidance and reassurance, but his throat was closed by dust and heat. No sound issued from it.

  Suddenly at his side he felt Mintaka stiffen and her fingers dug painfully into the biceps of his whip arm. He looked down at her face and saw that she was terrified. With her free hand she pointed frantically to the crest of the dune that seemed to hang suspended above them.

  Something colossal and dark detached itself from the heights and began to tumble down toward them. He had never seen anything like it. It had the same weighty amorphous shape as a monstrous waterskin, but was so large that it covered the entire side of the dune, large enough to engulf and squash not only the three chariots below it but an entire regiment. As it rolled down the almost sheer slope it gathered speed, undulating, wobbling and bouncing silently, coming down on them so swiftly that it blotted out the yellow desert sky. In the heat it exuded a sudden cold that squeezed their breath from their lungs as if they had plunged into an icy pool in a high mountain stream.

  The horses had seen it also: they plunged wildly and swung off the sandy track and bolted across the valley bottom, trying to outrun the terrifying apparition. There was a field of ragged black lava rocks directly ahead of them and they were racing straight into it. Nefer realized the danger and tried to turn their heads, but they were out of control. As he wrestled with the reins Mintaka was screaming beside him.

  Certain that they were about to be overwhelmed by the dark monstrosity, Nefer glanced over his shoulder. He expected it to be looming over them, for he could feel the cold emanation on the back of his neck, but there was nothing. The side of the dune was bare, smooth and silent. The yellow sky above was empty and bright. The other two chariots were halted under the slope, the horses calm and under control. Taita and the others were staring at them, astonished.

  “Whoa!” Nefer yelled at the runaway team, and threw his full weight on the reins, but the horses never checked. At full gallop they flew into the field of lava rock with the chariot bounding and swerving behind them. “Whoa!” he screamed again. “Stop, curse you, stop!”

  The horses were mad with terror, far beyond restraint. They arched their necks to fight the reins, striding out at full stretch, grunting with every stride.

  “Hold hard, Mintaka!” Nefer shouted, and threw one arm around her shoulders to protect her. “We are going to strike!”

  The black rocks were worn and carved by windblown sand into strange shapes. Some were the size of a man’s head and others as big as the chariot under them. Nefer managed to steer the crazed horses clear of the first, but they ran on into a gap between two of the largest rocks. It was too narrow for them to pass through: the off wheel struck with a rending crash, and disintegrated. Shattered spokes and sections of the rim were hurled into the air. The carriage dropped onto its axle, dragging down the off horse, which was thrown into the next rock. Nefer heard its front legs snap like kindling, even as he and Mintaka were hurled clear of it.

  They hit the soft sand, narrowly avoiding being thrown into the rock that had maimed the horse. When they came to a standstill, Nefer was still holding Mintaka in his arms. He had cushioned her fall, and now he demanded breathlessly, “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she answered at once. “Are you?”

  Nefer came to his knees, and stared in horror at the wreckage of the chariot and the crippled horses.

  “Sweet Horus!” he cried. “We are finished.” The chariot was smashed beyond any hope of repair. One horse was down for ever, both front legs shattered. The other was standing, still in its traces and harnessed to the single shaft of the chariot, but one leg was swinging loosely from its dislocated shoulder.

  Unsteadily he came to his feet, and pulled Mintaka up after him. They clung to each other as Taita drove his chariot to the edge of the lava field, tossed the reins to Meren and jumped down from the footplate. He came to them with long strides. “What happened? What caused the horses to bolt?”

  “Did you not see it?” Nefer asked, still shaken and bewildered.

  “What was it?” Taita insisted.

  “A thing. Dark and huge as a mountain. It rolled down the dune on top of us.” Nefer groped for words to describe what they had seen.

  “It was big as the temple of Hathor,” Mintaka supported him. “It was terrifying. You must have seen it also.”

  “No,” Taita replied. “It was an aberration of your mind and vision. Something placed there by our enemies.”

  “Witchcraft?” Nefer was bemused. “But the horses saw it also.”

  Taita turned away from them and called to Hilto as he drove up, “Destroy those poor beasts.” He pointed to the maimed horses. “Help him, Nefer.” Taita wanted to distract him from the disaster and its consequences.

  With a heavy heart Nefer held the head of the downed horse. He stroked its forehead and covered its eyes with his headcloth so that it would not see death coming.

  Hilto was an old trooper and had done this sad work on many far-flung battlefields. He placed the point of the dagger behind the animal’s ear and with a single thrust drove it into the brain. The horse stiffened, shivered and then relaxed. They went to the second animal. It dropped instantly to Hilto’s thrust and lay without moving again.

  Taita and Bay stood together, watching this harrowing act of mercy, and
Bay said softly, “The Mede is stronger than I thought him to be. He has singled out the most vulnerable among us and directed his powers at them.”

  “He has Trok’s other sorcerers to reinforce his influence. From now onward we will have to watch over Hilto and Meren also,” Taita agreed. “Until I can gather my own force to oppose Ishtar we are in great danger.”

  He left Bay’s side. It would trouble the others if they saw the two of them conferring secretly together. It was of the utmost importance to keep up their spirits.

  “Bring the waterskins,” Taita ordered. One had burst in the crash and the other two were only half full, but they strapped them onto the remaining chariots.

  “From here onward, Meren will ride with Hilto and Bay. I will take Their Majesties with me.”

  With the waterskins and the weight of the extra passengers the chariots were now overloaded. The horses were straining as they went forward into the glaring heat, with the lurid sun almost obscured by the strange yellow overcast.

  Taita held the golden Periapt of Lostris in his right hand, and chanted softly to himself, warding off the evil that was thickening everywhere around them. In the following chariot Bay was singing also, a monotonous repetitive refrain.

  They came to a section of the road where the wind had wiped away the tracks of other caravans and travelers. There were no signs to follow except for the small cairns of stones that had been placed at intervals. Eventually even these petered out, and they went on into the trackless sands. They relied now on Taita’s experience, his knowledge of the desert and his deep instincts.

  At last they came out into flat ground between two ranges of high dunes. The sand here was smooth and level, but Taita stopped at the edge of it and considered it carefully. He climbed down from the footplate and beckoned to Bay. The black man came to his side and together they examined the innocuous surface.

  “I like it not at all,” Taita said. “We must look for a detour around this plain. There is something here.”

  Bay walked a short way out on to the firm, level sand and sniffed the hot air. He spat twice and studied the pattern of his own spittle. Then he came back to Taita. “I can find nothing troublesome here. If we look for a way round it may cost us hours, even days. The pursuit is not far behind. We must decide which is the greatest risk.”

  “There is something,” Taita repeated. “Like you, I also feel an impulse to cross here. That feeling is too strong and illogical. The idea has been placed in our minds by the Mede.”

  “Mighty Magus.” Bay shook his head. “In this case I do not agree with you. We must take the risk and cross this valley. Otherwise Trok will catch up with us before nightfall.”

  Taita took him by the shoulders and stared into his black eyes. He saw that they were slightly unfocused, as though he had been smoking the bhang weed. “The Mede has penetrated your armor,” he said, and placed the Periapt on Bay’s forehead. Bay blinked and opened his eyes wide. Taita could see him struggling to throw off the influence. He exerted his own will to help him.

  At last Bay shivered and his gaze cleared. “You are right,” he whispered. “Ishtar had overlooked me. There is great danger in this place.”

  They looked down the length of the narrow valley. It was a river of yellow sand with no beginning and no end in sight. The far bank was close, no more than three hundred cubits across at the narrowest places, but it might have been two hundred leagues, and Trok’s regiments were close behind them.

  “South or north?” Bay asked. “I cannot see the way round.”

  Taita closed his eyes and exerted all his powers. Suddenly there was a sound in the terrible silence. A faint high cry. They all looked up and saw the tiny shape of a royal falcon turning high in the furious yellow sky. It circled twice, then sped south along the valley, and disappeared into the haze.

  “South,” Taita said. “We will follow the falcon.”

  They had been so intent on these deliberations that neither of them had noticed that Hilto had eased his own chariot up closer to where they stood. He and Meren were leaning over the dashboard and listening to this exchange. Hilto was frowning with impatience. Suddenly he exclaimed, “Enough of this! The way is clear ahead. We cannot afford any delay. Will you dare to follow if Hilto leads the way?”

  He whipped up his team, and the startled horses jumped forward. Meren was taken so completely by surprise that he was almost thrown backward over the footplate, but he grabbed a handhold and managed to stay on the racing vehicle.

  Taita shouted at Hilto, “Come back! You are bewitched. You do not know what you are doing.”

  Bay jumped up to catch the harness of the off-side horse, but he was too late: the chariot sped past him and out onto the flat ground. It gathered speed and Hilto’s laughter floated back to them. “The way is open. ’Tis smooth and fast.”

  Nefer snatched up the reins of the stationary vehicle, and shouted, “I will stop him or turn him.”

  “No!” Taita turned back to him, desperately raising his hand in a command to stop. “Don’t go out there. There is danger. Stop, Nefer!”

  But Nefer ignored his cries. With Mintaka beside him he lashed up the team and the wheels sang over the smooth hard sand. He was catching up with Hilto rapidly.

  “Oh, sweet Horus!” Taita groaned. “Watch the wheels.”

  A fine feather of silver sand began to rise from behind the spinning wheels of Hilto’s chariot. Then, as they watched in horror, the feather became a thick plume of yellow slush, then slabs of loose mud. The horses slowed as they sank to their hocks in the soft footing and lumps of mud were thrown up so high from their driving hoofs that they flew over Hilto’s head. He made no attempt to stop or turn back but drove them on deeper into the quagmire.

  “The sinking sands!” Taita cried bitterly. “This is the work of the Mede. He has hidden the true road from us and led us into this trap.”

  Abruptly Hilto’s team broke through the crust into the treacherous swamp beneath. As its wheels dropped in over the rims, the chariot came to such a sudden halt that both Hilto and Meren were catapulted over the dashboard. They rolled across the innocent-seeming surface, but when they came to a stop and tried to stand up their bodies were coated with sticky yellow mud, and immediately they sank in to their knees.

  The horses were completely mired. Only their heads and front quarters were free, but as they whinnied and plunged they sank deeper and deeper still.

  Nefer was bemused and reacted too slowly to the disaster taking place before his eyes. By the time he attempted to turn back it was too late. Within ten cubits his wheels were in over the hubs and both horses were bogged down to the shoulders. He jumped down to help them, to try to unharness them and lead them back, but immediately he was trapped in the slimy mud, sinking in to the knees and then to the waist.

  “Don’t try to stand,” Mintaka warned him frantically. “It will swallow you under. Throw yourself flat and swim.”

  She threw herself headlong from the sinking vehicle, and lay flat on the quaking mud. “Like this, Nefer. Do as I do.”

  He recovered his wits and stretched out flat on the surface. In an awkward swimming motion, like a child learning to doggy-paddle, he reached the chariot before it disappeared completely. With his dagger he cut the leather straps that held the floorboards in place and, in desperate haste, ripped them up and threw them clear. They floated on the surface of the deadly quicksands, but the heavy-laden chariot slid inexorably below the surface and drew the horses down with it. Within minutes there was only a lighter patch on the dun-colored plain to mark their grave.

  Hilto’s chariot had also been drawn under and his horses with it. He and Meren were floundering about, yelling with terror, managing only to keep their muddaubed heads and shoulders clear.

  Nefer shoved one of the floorboards to Mintaka. “Use this!” he ordered her, and she crawled onto it.

  He did the same with another board, which supported his weight. Towing two more boards with him by their lea
ther straps, he propelled himself across the swamp until he was close enough to throw them to Hilto and Meren. They dragged themselves out of the glutinous clutches of the mud. All four started to swim laboriously back toward where Taita and Bay watched in horror from firm ground.

  Taita waved his arms and shouted urgently, “You are already halfway across. Don’t return here. Go on. Cross to the other side.”

  Nefer saw the sense in this immediately. They turned for the far bank. It was slow, hard work, for the mud clung tenaciously to their arms and legs and to the bottom of the boards. Mintaka’s lighter weight soon told and she drew ahead of the others. She was first to reach firm ground and to drag herself from the clutches of the sinking sands. At last Nefer, Hilto and Meren followed her. They were almost exhausted. They threw themselves down at the foot of the eastern dunes.

  While they crossed, there had been time for Taita to consider their predicament. It seemed hopeless. They were split into two groups, with a gulf between them two hundred cubits wide. They had lost all of their horses and vehicles, their weapons and equipment, but the worst loss of all was the precious waterskins.

  Now Bay touched his arm and whispered, “Listen!”

  It was a susurration in the air, far off, sometimes fading away, then growing louder again, a distant echo reverberating from the enclosing dunes. Though faint, it was unmistakable: the sound of a column of chariot cavalry on the march.

  The three mud-soaked figures on the far side of the valley heard it also, and came to their feet. All of them stared back into the dunes and listened to Trok and his men coming on apace.

  Suddenly Mintaka ran back to the edge of quagmire where they had abandoned the boards that had carried them across. Nefer stared after her, trying to fathom out what she intended. She gathered up the boards and waded out knee-deep, dragging the boards after her by their leather straps.

  Nefer realized suddenly what she was doing, but he was too late to stop her. She threw herself flat on one of the boards and began to skim out over the yellow mud. She was out of his reach when at last he was forced to stop waist-deep.