Kiya and the God of Chaos

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Kiya and the God of Chaos Page 132

by Philippa Bower


  Chapter One hundred and thirty two: In the Temple

  Kiya lay, stunned by the loss of Dennu. The pain in her legs drew her attention back to her own plight. She turned to the soldiers, who were still staring after the departing dragon.

  “Help me!” she cried.

  One of them ran forwards and dragged her to her feet.

  “Ouch!” Her burnt flesh throbbed and ached in protest at having to bear her weight. She bit back her cry of pain and managed to hobble towards the temple with his arm around her waist. As she did so a movement caught her eye and she smelt the stench of swamp gas - something had taken advantage of the distracted soldiers and had gained entry to the temple.

  “Quick, follow that monster,” she shouted to the soldiers. They stared at her as if she had gone mad. “Something has entered the temple!” she yelled, but they took no notice. She turned to the soldier who had helped her. “Come with me, we must protect the King.”

  He shook his head. “Our orders are to remain on guard at the entrance.”

  “Then I must go alone.”

  She pushed through the line of soldiers. They made no attempt to stop her as she limped into the temple. Ahead of her the great open space of the main courtyard stretched to the far dais. All was empty, there was no sign of movement, but in the sand that had drifted across the stone slabs of the floor she could see the ladder-like tracks of a desert viper.

  She glanced up at the churning clouds and then made her way around the sides of the temple, hidden from enemies in the sky by the arcade of columns. Her legs were still capable of movement but they hurt abominably. Dennu must have shielded her from the worst of the blast, but in doing so had exposed himself to the dragon. Guilt and grief filled her heart in equal parts. She frowned and reminded herself that the time for grieving was after the battle. There was still work to be done.

  Behind the dais was the entrance to the inner temple. Two men stood on guard and Kiya’s heart lifted when she saw that she had reinforcements.

  “Come with me,” she called to them. “The temple has been invaded. We must guard the King.”

  They stood upright staring at her but, as she approached, they continued to look into the distance and when she touched one of them on the shoulder he made no response. They must be hypnotised, thought Kiya with dismay.

  She smelt a whiff of swamp gas from beyond them and so she pulled her javelin from her belt and hurried past, staggering on her damaged legs.

  An amazing sight met her eyes. King Ikhnaton stood in the inner courtyard with his arms outstretched towards a snake-woman as if he was welcoming the monster. Kiya stopped and stared, confused by what was happening.

  The snake woman stood, swaying before the King. She had a woman’s torso from the waist upwards, but her hips swelled to become the body of a snake. Her thick, scaly tail was coiled upon the ground holding her upright at the height of a human.

  “Nephertiti!” said the King and took a step towards the snake woman. Her wide, thin-lipped mouth curved into a smile, which revealed toothless gums. Long fangs unfolded, as if they were hinged, and from their tips a purple slime oozed. How could Ikhnaton think that such a creature was his departed wife?

  Soon the King would be in striking distance. He raised a foot to take another step forwards.

  “Stop,” called out Kiya. The snake woman turned and her round, lidless eyes fixed upon Kiya. They seemed to spin within their sockets and suddenly Kiya was looking at Anubis, but there was no honeyed scent, just the stench of swamp gas. She was not fooled and she raised her javelin.

  The snake woman turned into Dennu, smiling at her and with a lock of black hair falling over his forehead as it had in his youth. It took a supreme effort of will for Kiya to throw the javelin.

  As it left her hand the snake woman became Khamet. Kiya watched in astonishment as the javelin hit Khamet between the eyes. For a terrible moment her mesmerized brain thought she might have killed her friend and then the monster morphed back into her true form.

  The snake woman looped backwards and then fell to the ground. She writhed and shuddered and then lay still. She was dead. The javelin still stuck upright from her head.

  Ikhnaton was screaming and Kiya hurried to him, every step agony as her burnt flesh cracked and hardened.

  “It is over. You are safe. The creature is dead.”

  “I thought you had killed Nephertiti,” sobbed the King. “What was that thing?”

  “A snake woman,” said Kiya. “She had the ability to hypnotise.”

  The world started to swim around her. Kiya’s legs gave way and she sank to the ground. As she slumped, clinging to consciousness, she felt the power of Meri’s love and raised her head to look for her son. He came from one of the buildings that lined the courtyard of the inner temple and walked towards her. He still resembled a six-year-old boy of great beauty but an aura surrounded him that was so strong that he seemed to walk in a golden glow. As he drew near he held out his arms. She expected him to stop as he had before but he came right up to her, knelt down and put his arms around her.

  “Oh, Meri,” she sighed. “What a terrible world I have brought you into.” She embraced him tenderly and felt his healing power, like a tide, surge through her body. For a long moment she clung to her son, then he kissed her on the cheek and stepped away.

  Through a veil of tears, she saw him raise his hands to the sky as if in summons. Far above was a speck of white against the dark clouds. It grew larger until it became recognisable as a huge bird, which settled on the sand beside him.

  Kiya recognised the roc, the great, white eagle, who was a friend of the gods. It stretched its neck low, its beak almost resting on the ground as if it was worshipping the child. Meri stroked its head and then climbed onto its back.

  “Are you leaving me?” cried Kiya.

  She felt his love, strong and reassuring. Then the roc took off and flew into the air, spiralling upwards towards the storm.

 

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