For a long time, we sit beside each other quietly. Me, adoring the weird but impressive scenery. Him, pretending he doesn’t steal glances at me every time he thinks I’m otherwise occupied.
Sitting next to the God of the Underworld should be awkward. I’m supposed to be nervous, scared, maybe even disgusted. What if I’m neither? What does that say about me as a person?
That you’re truly messed up.
In the world of the living, I’m the Angel of Death, the girl little kids are afraid of at night. Here, in the world of the dead, I’m the traitor who feels comfortable near the monster that almost killed her friends. Messed up doesn’t quite cut it. Still, I can’t deny what I’m feeling. Seth, next to me, is so familiar. It’s as if he’s always been there.
“You shouldn’t worry too much.” He breaks the silence at last. “The Woods offers nothing you can’t handle.”
Pushing all thoughts of Seth into a box, labelled Never To Be Opened, I draw a much-needed, mind-clearing breath. “More crocodiles and deathtraps, then?” I handled those like a first-grader tasked to write an essay on Dickens’ Bleak House.
The ghost of a smile is on Seth’s lips. “Something like that.”
“No clues for me?” I’d say I’m disappointed, but that’d be a lie. Seth might have cracked a smile, and hasn’t been as grumpy as usual, but I will never allow myself to forget who he truly is and what he did.
His garnet eyes drift over the water, resting on the unpopulated shore. “The laws of the Underworld forbid me from telling you what lies ahead.” He sighs. “But as I said, nothing you can’t handle.”
I frown.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He studies me. “Speak your mind, Nisha.”
“It’s just….” Hilarious? Weird? Senseless? “I find it hard to believe a guy like you follows the law.” I always thought the Lord of the Underworld was supposed to break rules. I mean, isn’t that what Christians and Muslims all over the world believe? That Satan got cast out of heaven and into hell for disobeying heaven’s law? Then again, they also paint the devil as an ugly creature with hooves and horns.
I drink in Seth’s perfect face, his sculpted body. He is not ugly, nor do I see hooves and horns.
“A guy like me,” he echoes, eyes narrowed, shoulders rigid. “I see. Because I’m the Commander of the Undead, you assume I’m the worst here. I hate to disappoint you, my love.” Seth gets on his feet, anger sizzling under his calm façade. “There are far worse things in this world than me. Some just hide behind a mask of goodness.”
I want to know what he’s talking about, but he wanders off, leaving me by myself. His absence brings forth a cold that chills my bones. Blaming the wind comforts me much more than allowing myself to wonder if a part of me is already succumbing to Stockholm syndrome.
Kherty dropped us off a little while ago. Neither Seth nor I have spoken since that odd conversation on the ferry. I decided it’s best to keep my distance from him, but not because I’m afraid I might end up liking the villain of my story. He’s still the same guy who tortured me night after night, day after day, and as he keeps telling me, life after life. What brought me to this conclusion is rational thinking. Seth might root for me now, but once he has what he wants—immortality—there’s no telling what he’ll do. He could easily turn against me. It’s like my mom always said: “Knowledge is power.” The less Seth knows about me, the better my chances of getting Izzy and myself out of this alive.
“Don’t look at me,” he says matter-of-factly. “Look at where you’re going.”
I wish I wouldn’t blush that easily.
He points. “We’re almost there.”
Two gigantic sycamores are lined up next to each other. Their crowns bear no leaves, and they’re growing the most stunning turquoise I’ve ever seen. Gemstones so beautiful one cannot take their eyes off them. Fascinating and—
Scary as heck.
My heart thunders in my ears as the most primeval emotion chews at my gut. As stunning as the sycamores and turquoise look, they radiate a sense of danger, too, in the way they block out the light, casting finger-like shadows across the sand. The hickory trunks have deep creases, reminding me of witches hundreds of years old and the wrinkles around their eyes. The deep mouth- and eye-like holes give them faces of screaming ghosts.
“Trust your instincts,” Seth says as the branches move and the turquoise swings against each other, playing an eerie melody.
They tell me to run, but I doubt that’s what the conqueror meant.
The map didn’t say how to get into The Woods. All it did was show me the temple with the tree of life inside. Useless. What I really need is a manual, something like How to Get from A to B in the Underworld. I turn to my guide. “How do—”
“Who dares disturb our slumber?” says a deep, inhuman voice.
I search my surroundings. There’s nothing but sand and the two trees.
“Speak up,” a darker, scarier voice barks.
I’m dreaming. This isn’t real.
The left sycamore has a pair of human arms. Trees don’t grow freaking arms. I dread to look at its companion, but curiosity forces me to. This one doesn’t have arms, but the holes that reminded me of a nose and set of eyes earlier are now just that. Very human eyes, I’d like to add. Light brown, with a bit of green around the pupil. Thank the gods there are no sharp teeth, because I’m fairly certain that tree could devour a person whole.
An elbow jabs my ribcage. “Say something,” Seth urges, spiking my already-high adrenalin level.
Say what? is the question.
“Does the intruder have a name?” the Face-rocking Tree asks, sounding bored.
I could give them my name, if only my jaw wasn’t locked, and I was less focused on my shaking knees.
“She seems a little slow,” Armed Tree says, with a dismissive gesture.
Seth steps forward. “Watch your tongue, Guardian.” His voice resembles thunder and lightning, rolled into one. “You’re addressing the Princess of all Egypt, the Goddess of Protection, and the third in line to the throne.”
Silence.
More silence.
“Princess Nebt-Het?” Armed Tree chokes out.
Face-rocking Tree smiles. “I thought you smelled familiar, my lady.” She—there’s something about the way it speaks and acts that tells me it’s female—casts the other tree a sidelong glance. “Excuse my brother.” She sighs dramatically. “He’s grumpy when woken.”
“You mean a total bitch,” I correct her, almost instantly cursing my loose tongue. What is it with me and my sudden outbursts of temper? I’ve taken so much worse and kept quiet. Must be the Underworld. Yes, let’s just blame it on hell.
“The Princess you are indeed,” Armed Tree says. “I can see it now.”
Glad he can. I still can’t.
Face-rocking Tree says, “How did we earn the honor of a visit, my lady?”
I’m starting to feel like a parrot, answering the same question over and over. Maybe I should just wear a sign that reads Here to do the Trials. Help is very much appreciated. “I need to go into The Woods.”
“Doing the Trials, are we?” Armed Tree sounds amused. “And here I thought our dear Princess had given up on immortality.”
“I have.” I tilt my chin at Seth. “He hasn’t.”
“Chose him as your guide, too?”
I had no idea a tree growing arms and turquoise could be so dang annoying. “Yes.”
“Told you,” Face-rocking Tree half sings. “Didn’t I?”
I have no clue what she’s talking about. “Told me what?”
“Not you.” She eyes her companion. “Him.”
“Me,” Armed Tree clarifies, you know, in case I am slow. “She said you’d come one day.” He points at Seth. “Was convinced the two of you could never stay apart forever.”
“I was right, wasn’t I?” She meets my eyes. “He literally walked through the Underworld for you, my
lady.” A Shakespearean sigh escapes her wooden mouth. She’d give Hamlet a run for his dramatic money. “In eons, we haven’t seen a love purer than that of Seth and his Nebt-Het.”
“Until—”
“Quiet.” The force Seth uses makes the earth under my feet tremble. Whatever Armed Tree had to say, the conqueror isn’t keen to hear it. “Our past isn’t for your entertainment. Proceed, or I shall have my men cut you down.” He’s been a grumpy and unpleasant prick before. Now, he crosses the line to rude maniac.
“My lord.” As an homage to Seth’s power, he flourishes his left hand, slightly bending his crown. “We shall move on to the riddle.”
A riddle? I scream internally.
What can I say? I’m all too familiar with the fate of those who give wrong answers to the Great Sphinx. I hope these trees are less violent than her.
“Ready, Princess?” Face-rocking Tree asks.
No, not really. “Shoot.”
Face-rocking Tree clears her throat. “She travels with him in the sun barque and is blind to fortune and fame. The truth is her game. What is her name?”
“Ma’at,” I reply, quicker than a lightning bolt. There’s no doubt in my mind I’m right. The Goddess of Justice rides the sun boat with Ra. She only cares about what’s in your heart, and her name means truth.
“Not so slow after all,” Armed Tree says, almost impressed. “Let’s see if she can keep up with me.”
“Go.” I egg him on, annoyed.
“I’m the most perfect creation of all. Careful, though, or I shall be your downfall. Do I exist? If so, can you resist? I shall warn you of my lethal strike. Like a cobra I will always bite.” He draws a deep breath, dragging this out and clearly enjoying it. “Well, Princess, what am I?”
Pfft. There goes all the pride and hope I felt when I got the first one right. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. “Any chance you could repeat that?”
Face-rocking Tree says the riddle again, more slowly this time.
The most perfect creation? But lethal at the same time? What the— “I have no clue.”
“Is that your answer?” Armed Tree roars, sending chills down my spine.
Seth steps between us. “Can’t you see she’s thinking out loud?”
“Better think fast,” Face-rocking Tree chirps.
Seth cups my elbow, pulling me away from them. “Listen closely.” The urgency in his eyes is nerve-racking. “You only have one chance to get this right. Unless you crave to be devoured by the Soul Eater, I suggest you think this through.”
“You’re such an—”
“Focus. Calling me names isn’t going to get you into The Woods.” He calms down. “You know the answer. Just close your eyes and let it come to you.”
Fine, I’ll humor him.
The most perfect creation. What could that be? I contemplate humanity but quickly discard the idea. We destroy everything in our path, cause harm to others, and fight senseless wars. We’re far from perfect. What about nature? Nature is perfect. It creates life, for heaven’s sake. But do I exist? No one would ever doubt the existence of nature. Can’t be it either.
Seth’s hot breath tingles on my neck, pushing my heart into overdrive. “You can do this. Trust in yourself.”
That’s the problem. I never trusted in myself. I trust in my family and my friends. They kept me sane. Even when I brought them pain and misery, they stood by my side. They—
That’s it!
My eyes pop open. “Love,” I blurt out. Love is perfect, because it’s both good and bad. Love can give you wings or cause your downfall. And if you love someone, you’re bound to hurt that person at least once. “You’re love.”
Armed Tree’s barbaric laughter echoes through the sky.
Oh, no. I was wrong, and I only had one shot. I’m going to be eaten by—
“Nebt-Het.” Face-rocking Tree addresses me. “Daughter of Geb and Nut, Goddess of Protection and Princess of all Egypt, you may go into The Woods.”
Armed Tree snaps his fingers. A door made of turquoise appears between the two trees, bright white light streaming through a crack. “Be well, my lady.”
The door opens magically. That light… Jesus, it’s so dang bright it hurts my brain.
“Let’s go.” Seth hauls me along, not affected by it.
“Princess?” Face-rocking Tree shouts after me. “What once was good and pure cannot be rotten at the core. Remember that.”
I’m tired of riddles. Can’t they just speak plain English? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see,” is the last I hear before Seth pulls me through the door and into the light.
Chapter 19
Subconsciously, I expect something out of the Lord of the Rings or Warcraft but quickly discard the idea of mad trees and Orks. Seth mentioned the Underworld mirrors old Egypt. There were no woods in ancient Egypt. At least, no one has ever found archeologic evidence for forest-like terrains. So I figured there’d be palm and other native trees in The Woods.
How wrong I was.
We’re standing in the midst of dead, leafless trees, which lean over us like the menacing towers of a medieval fortress. Empty branches cast spooky shadows across snow-covered ground. The sun barely reaches us. There are just too many trees, too close together.
“We should get going,” Seth urges.
I nod and follow him along a narrow path that leads us deep into the creepy forest. “Those are pines and maples,” I say.
“They are,” he replies, constantly checking our surroundings.
Branches snap under my feet. The icy snow slips between my toes, sending shivers through me. The wind beats against my exposed skin. Why I listened to Seth and exchanged my warm jeans and sweater for a mini-skirt and belly-free top, I’m still not sure. I mean, what good is it to freeze to death?
My feet are heavy, my limbs shaking. I need a distraction—anything that’ll help me take my mind off the cold. I look around. The lifeless trees don’t offer much entertainment, so I turn to the only distraction I have. “I thought you said the Underworld is a mirror of what Egypt used to be?”
Seth is unfazed by the cold. “I said the Underworld is a mirror of the real world, not just Egypt. The twelve caverns of the Underworld were created by the first gods, Ra and Sekhmet. They built it according to the world they once knew.”
The world they once knew, huh? Sounds intriguing. “Does that mean there used to be maples in Egypt?”
He laughs. “It means the old ones ruled over more than just Egypt.”
“They did?” This’s the first time I hear of it.
“Yes.” He quickens his pace, moving past rows and rows of watchful trees. “When I was a little boy, Geb and Nut would tell….” He looks at me, then quickly away. “They told Nebt-Het and me stories about the way things used to be. Stories about Ra and Sekhmet—the first gods born from the Primeval Water—and how they used to rule the world alongside other divine beings. Some of them were born from the eternal flame, others spit out by the earth or cut from the air. For the longest time, they protected Earth together.”
“Then what happened?” I ask, almost tripping over a branch.
“What always happens.” He sighs. “They fought each other, each of them convinced they were the rightful kings and queens of the world. Soon, they wreaked havoc.” He pauses, eyeing a single crow above us. “The world was thrown into chaos. Apep, the great evil, used it to free himself of his prison in the primeval waters. He slaughtered the first gods’ sons and daughters, without mercy or regret. It was then the gods realized they could only defeat him if they joined forces. They managed to push the great evil back to the Primeval Waters and sealed his prison once again. As the battle ended, the gods understood it was their reckless behavior and hunger for power that almost destroyed the Earth they’d vowed to protect. To make sure none of that ever happened again, they divided the world between them. Each pair was given a kingdom, and no war was ever fought again.”
Have I mentioned how much I love stories like this? Sure, parts of the old myths and legends make no sense, like how the gods were born, and how did their kids have kids? It’s kind of like Adam and Eve’s story without incest—which is gross—they couldn’t have had more kids. It’s fascinating. Seth’s story explains a lot of mysteries, like why we can’t agree on one religion, how there can be an Underworld and a hell existing parallel with each other, or why the ruler of the Underworld isn’t rocking hooves and horns.
I’m still thinking about it when noises behind me catch my attention. At first, it’s just a quiet breathing sound. Then it turns into a loud growling.
“Here we go,” Seth mumbles, turning.
I spin, my blood freezing in my veins.
About two feet away is a set of the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, the color so vibrant it can’t possibly be from this world. Paws kiss the snow with a lightness that would make every prima ballerina jealous. Thick, glossy, white-silver fur, longer at the neck and shorter over the body, catches my attention. It looks soft and warm.
“Don’t make any sudden moves,” he whispers, rooted to the ground. “They’ll hunt you down and kill you.”
They? Moving out of the shadows under the trees are dozens of wolves. In the half-light they could easily be mistaken for dogs. Huskies, perhaps. But dogs don’t move the way wolves do—choreographed like a dance and completely in sync. Their otherworldy eyes gleam like diamonds—blue, brown, black, orange.
God, they’re beautiful.
A green-eyed wolf inches closer, carrying itself with so much confidence and grace, it’s breathtaking. The thing about beauty, though, is it makes you oblivious to the danger slumbering beneath it. A rose’s beauty draws you in. You forget all about its thorns. Only when your hand is cut do you remember that the most beautiful things can cause the worst kind of pain.
Aware any movement can set them off, I draw slow breaths. No way I can outrun a wolf pack. I don’t think anyone can.
“Now what?” I whisper.
Seth pulls a small golden dagger out of his waistband and hands it to me. “What do you think, Princess?” That wicked, annoying-as-heck smile is back. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to use the dagger to cut it off his glorious face.
Book of the Dead (Gods of Egypt 2) Page 11