by Jean Murray
She walked forward up the timeline. With her blue marker she drew stars over her and her sisters’ birthdates. The Mother Goddess’ plan to thwart Menthu. Two black lines marked the day Lilly released the goddess and subsequently the curse. She wrote the word, early, and circled it. She went back to Menthu’s symbol.
“What were you waiting for, Menthu? You had enough forces to wage war at any time.” Something didn’t make sense. Menthu, the God of War, waiting all that time? “You are much too volatile to have that kind of patience.” Sure, tactics and battle plans were his specialty, but like any dictator he was greedy and overconfident. She remembered Asar stating that Menthu was unstable. Pride was his greatest weakness. Would he wait two thousand years?
She went to Kepi’s entombment mark and stared at the red star. “Something happened here,” she mumbled. “The game changed, didn’t it?”
Looking at the triangle, she started to wonder. Menthu lead the charge at Thebes with Kepi. They all assumed he was the point man. No one questioned it, but what if…
She grabbed the eraser, cleaned the board, and rewrote the names. What if Menthu wasn’t the leader at all, but the third conspirator? The possibilities jumbled in her head. Menthu, a pawn, like Kepi. Although cunning and unscrupulous, neither had the skill to weave black magic. Not to the level of mastering a reven curse and to entomb Bakari.
Her head began to throb. She stared at the scorpion symbol. “How did they kidnap you without you killing them first? You knew who kidnapped you.” Who did Menthu and Kepi turn to join their cause?
The individual had to have been recruited two thousand years ago or agreed to come on board at the time of Kepi’s release. The unknown conspirator had to coordinate Bakari’s kidnapping and lure Asar to a location where he could be subdued to cut out his heart and steal the key to the Underworld.
Kendra grabbed her priestess robe from the bed and threw it on over her t-shirt and shorts. Her pectoral necklace lay against her chest. She needed her status as Mother Goddess’ principal to gain access to where she needed to go.
She stopped short of the door and glanced over her shoulder. Uneasiness settled in her gut. Lilly’s doubt of Bakari’s innocence echoed in her head. Kepi all but handed Bakari’s tomb over. What if this was another move on the chess board?
There was only one way to find out and one person to ask.
With her hand on the door knob, she took a deep breath mustering the confidence to face the god, who owned her soul.
***
Kendra followed her body guard through the warrior village. A cool breeze hit her face, clearing the dizziness from the teleportation. If Lilly, Asar, or Bomani found her here, they would surely lock her up in the loony bin. Heck, she about put herself there all on her own. Considering she was seeking out the source of her insanity, maybe she should be?
Her success hinged on Bakari wanting to see her. She needed to know. Did he know who kidnapped him? Or worse, was it all a ruse?
She followed her guardian to a building at the end of the long dirt street. He stopped at what looked like a command center. The sentry narrowed his gaze at her. He turned to the guardian and shook his head. Her guardian proceeded to exchange words with the guard.
Permission or not, she ducked and scurried down a dark corridor. Loud voices echoed in the hallway. She darted deeper into the complex and through the first door she came to. She backed into the room, her eyes never leaving the hallway. As she slid the door shut, a clang sounded behind her. She whirled around. A large group of warriors cleaning weapons stared at her.
“Shoot.” Game over.
Her knees started to shake underneath her robe. One of the largest warriors at the front of the table approached her. She straightened to her full height, which still only brought her to about chest high with the dark warrior. Only his forearms were marked with tattoos which indicated the lower ranks of warriors. Maybe she could use that to her advantage or… they might eat her alive. The other warriors stood at the table and moved forward behind their leader.
Kendra mouth went dry when she saw the thick blade in his hand. His brows lowered and his frown deepened.
Kendra mustered her confidence. “I’m looking for B—“
“Bomani is not here,” he interrupted.
“I’m not here to see him.”
The warrior sneered. “Are you here to see me then?”
Offended, Kendra jerked back. “No! I’m trying to find Bakari.”
The men laughed. “Asar’s son. Here?”
Loud voices resonated from the corridor she had just traveled. Kendra shot her gaze over her shoulder to the door and then back to the warrior. “Listen, I need to find him. It’s very important.” A deep male voice sounded on the other side of the door. Fearful of being discovered, she grabbed the warrior’s hand. “Please.”
The warrior’s eyes widened. His eyes darted to her hand and returned to her face. “Hope!”
“What? Yes, I hope you help me. Please.” She tugged harder. The door creaked heralding the arrival of the search party. The warrior barked out a command in the ancient tongue. His hand engulfed hers and pulled her over to the table. He stuffed her under the table and all the warriors sat in their chairs. She huddled under the table made for giants. The ten pair of legs blocked her view. Oil and metal laden the air in the confined space.
The angry sentry stormed into the room. Kendra grasped a few of the words spoken.
What changed the warrior’s mind? He could have easily turned her in, but chose to hide her. Regardless, she was grateful. After a heated exchange, the sentry left and the warrior returned to his seat. Her feet tingled from the lack of circulation. Finally, the warrior slid back his chair. She crawled out and brushed her robe off. She turned to the table and froze. All the warriors smiled at her.
Not sure why they were all happy, she grinned. “Thank you.”
The warrior that aided her escape bowed. “It is an honor to meet you, Madame.”
“I’m Kendra.” She reached out her hand.
His smile broadened and he bowed deeper. The warriors at the table mirrored the action. “I will take you to the one you seek. Please follow me.”
She walked beside the warrior. They had to divert their course only a few times to avoid her pursuers. “Where are we going?” she whispered.
“The temple.”
His answer shocked her, so much she stalled. “Temple?”
A few steps ahead the warrior stopped and turned toward her. “Yes, Madame. Is there a problem?”
It wasn’t a place she expected Bakari to be. Heck, she didn’t know what he had been doing over the past few weeks. How much time did pass? He pointed to the end of the corridor. Now that she was here, she couldn’t move her legs.
“Are you okay?”
She felt compelled to tell him. “We didn’t part on the best of terms. I’m sure he won’t want to see me.”
“I am sure you are mistaken, Madame.”
“What is your name?”
“Sin.”
“Thank you, Sin.”
“My pleasure. And I am grateful to meet you, Hope.”
“Oh, my name isn’t Hope. It’s Kendra.”
The warrior grinned and turned to leave. “I know.”
Confused, she turned back to the temple. The torches from within the temple flickered around the edges of the closed doors, giving it an ethereal glow. The warmth beckoned her with its undulating yet tranquil call.
The ache in her chest, her only friend as of late, lessened with each step. Warmth like the flames of the torches wrapped around her in a blanket and drew her forward. Her hands trembled as she reached the threshold of the carved wooden doors. Unlike their last encounter, the dark power that beckoned her was stronger and more forceful.
Fright and excitement threatened to break the cage she had meticulously built around her heart. She pinched her arm hard in an attempt to break the spell. She reminded herself this god had used her and bound her
soul without her consent. Stupid girl.
Her bravery faltered. Did she make the wrong choice coming here without Bomani? Who was she kidding? He would've never let her come. She turned and stared down the corridor to where Sin had disappeared. She would never find her way out of here. She could give herself up, but then she would leave without her answer.
Bludgeoning her fear like an unwanted pest, she confronted the barrier. She was done hiding. This was her battle and no one would fight it for her.
Chapter Forty-Two
Blood stained the floor where his knees dug into the hard stone. His leg muscles quivered with fatigue. An unfit penance considering his crimes. He stared at the growing stack of ostraca at the foot of the statue. Prayers to the goddess. A lot had changed. Prior to his kidnapping, he rarely set foot in a temple, and when he did it was only for official functions. He never found any use for it. Now, when the urge struck to crawl into his dark hole, he came here. To say the least, he was here often.
He brushed his fingers against the rolls at the bottom of the stack. The hieroglyphics scribbled into the parchment were wild and illegible at best. A bright reflection of his state of mind when he first arrived in the warrior camp.
Things were less bleak these days. His suicidal ideation although present was less acute. At least he could look around the room and not see the various ways he could end his life. But then again, Sin kept him distracted by his incessant blabbering. The small band of fledgling warriors had accepted him as one of their own and worse designated him as their leader. He never asked for it.
He stared at the worn green flashlight. Silver now etched the barrel from the habitual rubbing with his thumb. Even the pain in his chest had gotten better this day. The thirst manageable. The venom-laced tattoos burned a little less hot.
He resisted the urge to stretch out the ache in his legs. With his eyes closed he centered his meditation to control the horrific visions that haunted his mind. He frantically searched for the one trance that would cure his insomnia.
He inhaled. Melted wax and bitter smoke from the burning wicks filled his senses. He exhaled and visualized expelling the yolk of weight from his body and clearing his mind of darkness. The tightness in his chest and shoulders remained, as did the vision of Kepi’s face. Frustrated, he inhaled again. The breath carried an unexpected scent of flowers. The enticing fragrance diluted his visions to shades of warm yellows. Kepi’s hateful red eyes vanished and the vice around his chest loosened completely. Shocked, he blinked trying to register the change. Relief had never come so easily.
The scrape of the door closing drew his attention over his shoulder. The flames from the sconces danced across the faces of the immortalized gods. Only one face stared back with mouth agape. The soft lighting played against the beautiful features of the goddess. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. She remained in her white flowing robe. Her wide eyes followed him as he stumbled to get up.
Bakari shifted his body to hide his atonement. He resisted the urge to inhale her scent fearful his thirst would return tenfold. The sight of her alone threatened his thread of control. What was she doing here?
“Bomani is not here.”
“I know.” Kendra’s eyes measured him briefly and then darted away. The hint of redness colored her cheeks. She traced one of the glyphs that adorned the statue next to her.
He narrowed his eyes at her. If she was not here to see Bomani, then who? Certainly not him.
“You look well,” Kendra said, staring at the statue.
He tracked her graceful movements. Her hair shined even in the dim glow of the candle light. Each lock of her hair curled in long full coils over her shoulders. The sight of her stirred a fire inside his belly. He narrowed his vision on her arms fully expecting to see glyphs on her forearms, but found only soft cream skin. His bitterness gave way to relief. She had not yet transitioned. Still, her health and vitality reverberated across the slab of stone that separated them.
She drifted among the statues, not once stepping closer. For all the time he had wanted to keep her distance, he now found her reluctance exasperating. He glanced at his feet, surprised that he had taken several steps forward. Her warm energy seeped into his tissues and amassed in his chest, feeding a hunger in the most basic form. Life. There was only one other hunger he wished quenched. He swiped a hand across his face.
He pulled his hand away to find his palm wet with perspiration. Cursing, he slid his hand across his abdomen. It was calm at the moment, but he did not trust it to behave. He bowed deeply, as any warrior would in a goddess’ presence. “Madame, I will leave you to your privacy.”
***
Kendra whipped her head around. Madame? However respectful he meant it to be, it stung like a dirty word. She’d been reduced from something as intimate as his Parvana to something cold and distant, as Madame. She shouldn’t care, she really shouldn’t. She had spent hours festering her anger toward him in the hope her feelings would change. Apparently they hadn’t.
He reached for the door, revealing again the amazing scroll work carved into his skin. From shoulder to shoulder and along his spine the scarification tattoo looked like a scorpion’s back. Her breath caught in her throat. He had gained leadership and respect among the warriors, not to mention he added about forty pounds of lean muscle.
“I didn’t come to see Bomani,” she blurted. He stopped with his hand on the iron handle. “I came,” Kendra placed her hand over her racing heart, “to see you.”
He turned his head slightly, giving her only a sliver of his handsome face. His brows creased deeply over his silver eyes. “Probably not a wise decision, considering…”
“Please. I need just a moment of your time. After that I’ll leave you alone.” That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? The ache in her chest throbbed briefly. Shaking it off, she moved among the columns of statues, so that she could see more of his face from the side. She resisted the urge to run to him. He wanted space and her throwing herself at him wasn’t in line with his wishes.
Plus, the question she had to ask wasn’t simple. It might reopen his wounds or worse, make him unstable. He appeared more focused and in control. Physically, he was in peak condition. She didn’t realize until then, he had cut his hair. It looked grown in, maybe an inch from his scalp. Either way he was formidable. The power that rolled off of him reminded her of Asar. Bakari’s dark energy curled around her like fingers, caressing her skin and leaving trails of warmth in its wake.
Her words had a least halted him, but his hand remained on the door. “I’m close to finding my Mother’s enemy.” Feeling the pain her question would bring, she looked and rubbed the silver scar on her palm. “Our enemy.”
His silver eyes drilled into her, making her heart flutter.
Kendra glanced around the room to ensure they were truly alone. When she looked at him, he had released the door and turned to face her. She betrayed her command not to admire his bare chest and long strong legs. His skin, although written with the history of his torture, was a rich olive color. His pants hung dangerously low against his hips.
Feeling the heat in her cheeks she broke her gaze. She turned and walked toward the front of the temple. He remained in her peripheral vision. “Bast and her fellow Protection gods had fingered Menthu, as the traitor against the Pantheons. All the evidence points to the God of War. The curse on Kepi’s tomb and the battle at Thebes.” She fidgeted with the gold tie of her gown. Her theory went against Asar’s fragile alliance with the Creation Pantheon. They had been hunting Menthu for months now, assuming he survived the impalement from the Mevt dagger. Asar believed if they captured and destroyed Menthu and Kepi that the war would end. She had her doubts.
“You know where Menthu is?” Bakari growled.
His dark energy prickled her skin like fine electrical shocks. Kendra rubbed her arms. “No, I…” She glanced at his face. It was covered in perspiration and a fine tremble set to work on his hand. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Do you know or not?”
“We are hunting for the wrong god.”
Bakari turned to the door and yanked it open.
“Bakari,” Kendra shouted. “Tell me what happened when you were kidnapped.”
He stopped mid-step. A chill swept through the room. Despite the sudden change, he spoke evenly, “There is nothing to tell.”
“Why? Because you don’t remember or you don’t want to talk about it?”
Bakari leaned his forehead against the door and closed his eyes. The tremor in his hands increased.
“If this wasn’t so important, I wouldn’t ask. I don’t want to see you in pain.”
“I am not,” he bit out.
“Don’t you think I can feel it?” Kendra placed her palm over her heart. The pain curled like sharp daggers on the inside of her chest. “I know when you’re hurting, Bakari. For a month now. I didn’t know what it was at first. Lilly even tried healing me thinking it was some illness.”
He lifted his head and looked at her. His anguish darkened and dulled the silver of his eyes.
“I know you want to be alone and as far from me as possible, but you need to talk about this. With Nebt,” she paused, “with me.” She turned her back to him, and blinked away the tears that formed. To distract herself she wandered to where he had been kneeling when she arrived to the temple. His blood coated the floor in two large circles. The entire stone was discolored black. She frowned realizing it was old blood, layer upon layer. How long and for how many days did he prostrate himself before this goddess? Did he tell her his secrets?
Numerous ostraca prayer rolls were stacked one on top of the other at the goddess’ feet. She brushed her fingertips against the parchment.
“I have,” he voiced, his heat warming her back.
She held her breath and tried not to move. His fingers brushed against her hair. The ache in her chest lessened with his touch. She tipped her head back slightly, begging him to touch it again. The face of the goddess he worshiped came into focus. Her face.