Soul Awakened

by Jean Murray

  Asar rose and walked around the edge of his desk. Bomani shot to his feet despite his overwhelming fatigue. His Lord laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have honored me, Bomani. More than I can ever express. If there is anything you want or need, I will provide.”

  Bomani bowed his head. “Thank you, Sire.” Asar rarely gave compliments, but when he did, they meant something. He could not be more pleased by his Lord’s approval of his leadership. He straightened to his full height.

  “Take Kendra to the archives. I will prepare our fallen for their rebirth.” Asar patted his shoulder.

  Bomani turned to leave but stopped at the door. He looked over his shoulder to Asar. “If anyone can wake Bakari, Kendra will find the way.”

  Asar smiled, but sadness penetrated his eyes. “I am sure she will.”

  Chapter Four

  Kendra laid her head on the ancient text. The old leather scratched her cheek. She had been staring at the thing for over week. Over twenty books and thousands of pages later, she was no closer to finding the spell to release Bakari. She looked along the rows and rows of bookcases. Too many to count.

  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Bomani moved from his position along the wall and stooped next to her. “You need some rest.”

  She sat up and rolled her knuckles over her tired eyes. The hieroglyphics on the page blurred. When she first arrived to the archive, she had been certain she would find the right spell. Her watch ticked by the minutes, hours, and days of Bakari’s confinement. His suffering prevailed because of her failure to find the answer.

  Irritated, she pushed the frizz from her face and tucked her long unruly hair behind her ears. When had she lost her hair band? She glanced around the chair. The stupid elastic band had deserted her somewhere in the last few hours. Traitor.

  Okay, now she was losing it.

  “Are you looking for this?” Bomani’s gentle voice soothed her insanity.

  “My hair band. I hate when my hair gets in my face. Drives me nuts. You wouldn’t know because you have no hair, but trust me. I should cut it off, I really should.” Sighing, she leaned back again in her chair. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Bomani glanced away and smiled. He looked as tired as she did. In fact, she realized he had been with her the whole time, even after the huge battle. “Laugh all you want, but you are not much better.” She poked him in the chest. His grin broadened.

  “We make a pretty sorry pair, do we not?”

  Sorry was right. She felt downright stupid. Who was she kidding? She was a fraud. Everyone believed she was so smart, getting her Doctorate by the age of twenty-two, but she cheated. Her gift gave her the advantage, not her smarts. And now her gift was blind and her incompetence showed. Or at least she felt that way.

  “You are frowning, not laughing. I did not mean to offend.”

  She rolled her head to the side to look at him. Sincerity weighted his eyes. “It’s not you.” She knew she was being too hard on herself. Her normal bubble of optimism deflated with each passing minute

  Everything had come easily to her—until now when Asar’s son needed her most. Heck, the world needed her to unlock him. More than enough families had lost someone to the curse. They had lost their father to it. Kepi’s death at Bakari’s hand would break the curse and maybe she could see her father again in the afterlife.

  “You put too much pressure on yourself.”

  “How can’t I?” Kendra sighed in defeat. “He’s stuck in there. And I don’t know how to get him out. The texts I picked should have the answer, but…” She looked at the hieroglyphics etched into the parchment. The passage she had been reading simply stopped. She turned the page and it started a completely different spell category. “There aren’t more volumes of these books?”

  Bomani stood and raked a thick hand over his skull trimmed, black hair. He glanced down the center vestibule and cursed quietly, too low for Kendra to translate. She jerked upright. “There are other texts?”

  She jumped out of her seat and surged toward the back of the library. Why didn’t he mention it sooner? Well, he hadn’t but she could guess as much from his agitation.

  “Wait.”

  He snagged her arm and stopped her. When she looked up at him, he ran a hand over his face and then at the base of his neck. Whatever it was, he didn’t want her to see it. “There is another section, but I was hoping we would not have to go into the vault.”

  “Why?” Miffed, she took another few steps away, but he tightened his grasp.

  “Because what is contained there is very dangerous. I do not want to expose you unnecessarily.”

  “What if it contains the spell I need? I could be wasting my time up here.”

  “We do not know that, it could be right here.”

  “Do you want to bet Bakari’s life on it?” Kendra countered.

  Darkness flickered in his gold eyes. He shook his head and his eyes brightened again. “Of course not. Listen, we need to have our wits about us when we go in there. Right now neither of us is in any condition to enter. We need to rest.”

  Irritated, she put her hands on her hips ready to make her argument, but he raised his hands in surrender.

  “Give me twenty-four hours. You should be strong enough then. I promise I will take you there.”

  Despite the small burst of energy, it waned. The heaviness of fatigue and defeat made its home in her mind and body. He was right, they needed rest. If a strong warrior was uncomfortable going in there, then there had to be a good reason. “Twenty-four hours.”

  He nodded. “I assure you Bakari is safe. One more day will not make a difference. With some sleep your head will be clear to focus on the task. You want that, right?”

  “Yes, of course.” Safe? Sure, nothing would happen to Bakari, but all she could imagine was him locked alone in darkness. Her own worst fear.

  “Good. Let me take you to your room.”

  Too tired to argue she complied and followed him out. One more day was a day too long in her opinion.

  Chapter Five

  Soft white sheets called her name, but Kendra couldn’t fathom sleeping when Bakari lay locked in his tomb. Go to sleep, the sensible side of her commanded. She rubbed her blurry eyes. Bomani was right, she needed to think clearly. Her intention was all well and good up to the point she started toward the door.

  She’d take a quick peek, that’s all.

  Through the crack in the door she slipped out into the quiet hallway. She ran down the long corridor to the archives, chased only by the low squeak of her shoes. Luckily, the dungeon was the only thing locked in Aaru.

  The massive gold doors towered above her. She grabbed the crystal handle and gave it a yank. The door didn’t budge. They were of considerable weight and size for her small frame. She dug in her heals and gave it a hefty pull. It opened a crack, enough she wedged herself in the door. With a final push the door slid open enough to let her pass.

  A cool draft buffeted her face.

  Crap.

  Not a single lantern was lit. She pulled out her flashlight and turned the head to engage the small light. The solitary white beam pierced the blackness and illuminated the familiar chairs and tables of the library. She counted, one, two, three, and four. Yep, four back up batteries. Next time she saw Asar, she was going to recommend electrical lighting in the palace. The crack in the door allowed the hallway light to mark her beacon to freedom—in case she needed to make a hasty retreat.

  Her fatigue forgotten in favor of her heart pounding in her chest, she forced her legs forward toward the center vestibule of the archive. Her flashlight provided a six foot radius of visibility. She really needed to buy a bigger flashlight. One that could be used as a weapon.

  Kendra headed in the direction that Bomani had looked earlier. The vault should be marked in some manner, and if not she could use her gift to find it. She stopped at the end of the center aisle which branched to the right and left. She glanced at the entrance toward the s
mall sliver of light still visible. It wouldn’t be for long once she turned down either hallway. With a shaky hand, she pointed the head of the flashlight to the end of both corridors.

  Right or left? She scanned the floor’s markings. It would be just like her to be standing on top of it. Losing her nerve, she wondered if it would be better to go back and return tomorrow with Bomani. It may take her hours to find the entrance. Asar was right, she could get lost in here.

  Similar to tombs, this library was a labyrinth with dead ends and false corridors. She couldn’t leave a bread trail out of here. Irritated with herself, she tapped her foot against the black stone. Irritated was good, because it kept her mind off the darkness closing in around her. At least this was a solid structure and she wasn’t at risk of falling through the floor into a decayed crypt. See, there was an upside. How many of those she had accidentally found over the years? She lost count.

  She turned right and ambled down the center of the wide hallway, leaving her beacon to freedom behind. The beam of her flashlight danced over the enormous statues of various Egyptian gods. She named them as she went on her way to distract from the fact that they loomed over her. Nut, Sky goddess. Geb, Earth god. All the elemental gods.

  How many days had she wished to travel into the past and see the ancient Egyptian culture for herself? Unbelievably, she received something much better. She was with the gods that the people had worshiped. The historians had gotten some things right, but so much had left them guessing. The answers lie in this great hall.

  She stopped to admire a goddess whose beautiful features were carved into alabaster marble. She touched her fingertips to it with reverence. “Hi, mom.” The stone was warm to the touch, unlike the others in the hall. The heat of the stone penetrated straight to her heart. Kendra smiled.

  She had yet to meet her mother, the goddess Mut. The Mother of the Gods had chosen Kendra’s father to sire her offspring. Offspring that held the key to battling Kepi and Menthu, the Pantheons’ enemies. She touched the medallion of her pectoral necklace, a gift from her mother. Now she would be counted among them.

  The slam of the archive door echoed off the enormous stone room. Startled, she stumbled back. The flashlight beam flittered erratically around like a strobe light until she caught her balance. She covered the top of her flashlight with her hand. The beam created an eerie reddish glow through her fingers.

  Rustling in the antechamber shot her heart rate up ten beats. Her hands trembled. She wasn’t supposed to be here without an escort. Bomani was very clear about that.

  She darted behind her mother’s statue and peeked around the corner. Blackness. She blinked her eyes a couple times. Did she see glowing orange eyes? She stiffened. Holy heck. Her throat went dry and her hair stood on end. She back peddled. The urge to flee overwhelmed her usual sensibility.

  Her breath caught in her chest when the floor vanished beneath her feet and she plunged into the black void. In the sudden weightless descent she flailed her arms, like a flightless bird. Her back slammed into the stone steps and pushed the last living breath from her lungs. Pain seared across her shoulder blades and her head cracked against the sidewall. She tumbled to the bottom with a thud and a moan.

  Her adrenalin would keep most of the pain at bay, but there was no doubt her shoulder was dislocated. Whimpering, she tucked her hand into her sweatshirt front pocket and splinted her left arm against her stomach. With her free hand she palpated the rest of her limbs. Although it hurt to breathe, she didn’t think any ribs were broken. She touched the back of her head. A glob of stickiness matted her hair and coated her fingertips.

  A fine perspiration covered her skin and her ears began to ring. She inhaled through her nose and blew the breath out. If it had been anyone else, they would probably pass out, but sadly she had been in this situation many times before.

  She started naming the Egyptian gods in alphabetical order. It kept her mind off her pain and her body’s response to injury. After the second round the dizziness began to recede. Gingerly, she leaned over and picked up her flashlight. The light illuminated the foot of another statue. She trained the beam up and was met by a fiery orange glare.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  She couldn’t keep her hand from quivering, which made the beam flicker over Kamen’s enormous features. The largest of the Underworld gods, Asar’s brother appeared even more monstrous.

  “Please don’t tell Bomani. Or my sisters,” she begged. She didn’t know what it was about Asar’s brother that scared her so. Anytime he was around she got goose bumps. Maybe it was the wild look in his eyes in the otherwise stoic god. Or the otherworldly glow. The only one who seemed unaffected by his presence was her sister. Kit was downright belligerent to him, when no one else dared to even look cross eyed at the god.

  “Answer me.”

  “I’m looking for the vault,” she blurted, her fear compelling her to tell the truth. “I can’t stand the thought of Bakari spending one more night in that tomb.” Whether it was the adrenalin crashing or the humiliation of getting caught, her voice broke and tears welled in her eyes. The god stood unmoving. Only the orange glow of his gaze extinguished to reveal the brown depth of his eyes.

  God, she felt pathetic.

  “Follow me.” He turned and disappeared deeper into the darkness of the stairwell. Of all people, he wanted to help or at least she hoped. She pressed her back against the wall and pushed with her feet until she was standing. With her flashlight in her good hand she hobbled down the steps. Each footfall jolted her shoulder and made her head spin. She blew out a breath and pushed past the pain.

  At the bottom landing she closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the wall. Fine beads of sweat trickled along her temples and followed the line of her jaw to her chin. Energy prickled her skin, like a million insects crawling under her clothing. She snapped her eyes open and shuddered. Logic told her it was her body’s reaction to the energy, but she couldn’t help but to shine her flashlight against her legs and arms. No bugs.

  Although she was at another intersection, the power beckoned her to the corridor to the left. Despite her fear of making another misstep, the urgency of the elusive calling propelled her forward without care.

  She pressed her palm to the wall. A protection spell recited word for word in her mind. She recognized it immediately from the pyramid text from the museum. An incantation written by the ancient Egyptians to suppress and neutralize other spells. The mythological magic pulsated beneath her fingertips. To actually experience the enchantment gave Kendra pause. What had she gotten herself into? Maybe Bomani was right?

  She should have waited until the morning.

  Chapter Six

  A radiant turquoise light emanated from the walls and outlined Kamen’s bulky form with a green halo. The Ancient Egyptians believed this same color could protect them from evil spirits. Kendra lowered her flashlight. Her mouth gaped open. “What is this place?”

  He frowned. “It contains the demotic texts. Black magic.”

  “The answer is here,” she whispered. The vault had no door, only the turquoise veil covering the entrance. “How do I get in?”

  “Only those without sin can pass.”

  Sinless? No one was sinless. Even her. There was the time she used God’s name in vain. Or the time she took her father’s excavating tools without asking.

  “Ah, is there another way in?”

  “No.”

  “What happens if a sinner enters?”

  “Death.”

  “Just that,” she croaked. “Maybe coming back tomorrow would be a better idea.”

  “If you wish.”

  She stared at the glowing waterfall. “Will you come with me?”

  “I cannot.” Kamen retreated a few steps.

  He couldn’t because he didn’t want to or he couldn’t because he was a sinner? She didn’t have the courage to ask. Asar wouldn’t have granted her access, if harm would come to her, right?

 
Unwilling to allow Bakari to suffer any longer, she breathed in deep, held it and stepped into the energy. The equivalent of electric shocks conducted across her skin and bore into her chest. The pins and needles sensation drove her forward until she stumbled clear. She expelled her breath in a nervous laugh. Apparently, her sins weren’t so bad. She looked through the shimmering veil only to see Kamen’s back fade into the darkness.

  He left her to her own devices, never a good idea according to her sisters. She tucked her flashlight into her pocket and turned to the rows of texts that barely fit the span of chiseled sandstone. She stifled a cough. Similar to the tombs she exhumed in Egypt, this place had a rotten compost smell. The power thickened the air, almost suffocating her.

  The sooner she left this place the better.

  She inched forward to a text that lay open on a stone alter in the center of the room. The frayed leather and yellowed parchment attested to the extreme age of the book beyond anything she had seen in the years she spent handling antiquities. The hieroglyphic inscriptions matched the prayer she had palpated from the walls. She didn’t dare touch it and risk disrupting the enchantment.

  A low hum from the far corner drew her attention. She wiped the sweat from her brow and crept toward the noise. Voices speaking an ancient language skittered over her shoulder and left a trail of warmth against her neck. She whipped around, almost expecting to see she wasn’t alone. The room lay empty.

  The whispers swooped like a flock of birds. She stumbled and bumped her dislocated shoulder into one of the bookshelves. Wincing, she sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

  “Stop it.” She blew out several breaths willing her heart to slow. Her stomach tumbled and tightened. An eerie quiet descended in the room at her command, and left her with only the choking rancid air.

  She resisted the urge to charge out of the vault. Unable to live with her failure, she pushed off the bookshelf and surveyed the room. How was she ever going to find what she was looking for in this mess? Bound books and stacks of rolled parchments overstocked the shelves.