Opener of the Sky

by Mary R Woldering

  It was late afternoon when Marai overtook the camp…

  Maatkare sighed, nerveless and besotted with the recent memory of everything that had happened during the day. Over the past weeks, the very presence of the woman he called Nefira Sekht Deka had begun to move him to incredible passion. If he had ever sought to master her, he began to wonder after this early afternoon, exactly who was now the master.

  When he returned from the women’s tent, he saw she had dismissed the grooms and servants who had prepared his bath. She didn’t answer him when he compelled her to speak about the young man who lay near death nearby. Every time he started to question her about the man, she gently shushed him and soothed the concern out of his brow. Her devotion seduced him entirely. Soon, he stopped trying and he lay back to enjoy her gentle treatment.

  “I know what you really want of me. I will take you soon,” he blindly reached up to touch the tip of her nose with his lips. “Together we will celebrate your rebirth.” Her gentle rubbing and dabbing on his chest slowed, then her caresses stopped. He opened his eyes and saw her desperately trying to compose herself. Her shoulders heaved with emotion and her hands shook so much she could no longer touch him.

  “Shh. Take your time, Nefira Deka, take your time,” he whispered. “It’s just the chaos visiting itself on you; passing through you. Let it flow. Don’t fight it, no matter how wrong or wicked it seems to you. It’s the right thing for you now; the right thing for both of us. I knew your power, woman. I knew it when I saw you in my grandfather’s plaza your first night across the river.”

  I did know, he thought. And today, she gives birth to her truer self in the blood of our defeated foes. I remember my own rebirth; how the power felt when it first moved through me. Maatkare gripped her hand and made it trace it over his chest, then moved it up to his mouth so he could taste the memory of the blood on her fingertips.

  Little Raemkai was my dog when I was a child. I named him for me. Our name means ‘the sun is my life force’. He saw himself for a moment: a little and happy princeling dancing and playing with a great black dog that was so big it almost dwarfed him. He was a gift from a sepat chief and from his size my father was certain he was part wilderness wolf. Not a pure breed. He told me I needed a smaller red and white hound who would be a good hunter but have an even temper, but I would not give that black dog up. I loved that mutt. He saw himself asleep with the dog protectively covering the foot of his little bed.

  Deka breathed out a little, bent over Maatkare, and kissed his hand.

  He froze, even though her touch thrilled him beyond endurance. The happy memory turned dark. His black dog killed one of the royal guards, then it grew wild and snappish from the taste of a man’s blood.

  Bastard used to tease him and kick him for no reason, that’s why he did it. I wasn’t there to pull him off when it finally happened. Men muzzled him and made me shoot him. He saw the brief memory of himself crying and shaking so hard he could barely nock his arrow. ‘Be a man, a royal son,’ they said. Yet, as that wonderful animal died in my arms, his mighty spirit, that of a god, came into me. I snapped and bit men who came to take his body from me. I went mad for many days, as if possessed; suddenly more dog than boy.

  “Raem… beloved,” Deka’s fingertip’s smoothed his temples. “Your eyes look far away.”

  “A memory,” he answered as the last image of him dipping his own small hands into the dog’s wound and drinking its blood replayed. My own father knew fear of me then, and what brings me greatest joy also changed that day. They put me in quiet rooms in the temples of Wepwawet which calmed my spirit some, but it was there I learned of my true nature; that I had the power to become the dog. “Now that we have shared the blood of our enemies, I need for your truth to come to more easily to me. Your sisters knew him, this leader, and you did not?” he asked one more time, propping up on his elbows. She bowed her head for a moment before she showered him with kisses.

  “I did not know him, beyond seeing him and his family,” she said. “We never spoke. He lies dying, but I cannot allow pity for a foolish man to overtake me. I don’t wish to think of him, Raem, only you. Be with me now and let us leave the dead with the dead.” She kissed his chest and lapped the finest sprinkle of man-fur growing there, teasing his nipples with her tongue. The chill of arousal swept him. She swung her leg over him, then moved with him in a slow, anointing glide. “Be with me unceasingly. Take me and overtake me,” Deka breathed.

  Maatkare welcomed her but at the same moment he took her, the dim outline of a dark aura that rested on her shoulders entered her body at the level of her heart.

  I will, his thoughts whispered as he gripped her hard and eased up to take her mouth in a deep kiss. With what began in the dawn light, we finish in the triumph of the blood. His thoughts rushed through her soul and became part of her dark need. He paused for a moment to regard her elegant form wrapped around him and accepting him as eagerly as she had accepted the blood on his hands.

  Her sigh of pleasure becalmed itself into an expression of serene wonder at the sensation of unlimited power that almost overwhelmed her, more than the way he so effortlessly filled her. That wasn’t what almost unmanned the prince. The shimmer on her skin began as a glow of sweat. In the heat of pleasure between them, he watched the “glow” become red and golden flame trapped just under the surface of her skin. It was as if the Ta-Seti woman became the fire of the sun barely contained in flesh. He had sensed that energy before, but now that she had fed from the blood he offered her, it became stronger.

  Gods, she drinks power from me now. As he yielded to her, the prince felt something give way in his heart. The force of it made him tremble at first, then laugh a little lasciviously, but soon it emerged as a different kind of hunger. You will be with me now and forever, his thoughts sighed. You understand my need for you.

  Then, he cautioned himself: Love. I almost want to say it to her, but I cannot. It is not possible. I won’t slip and say it in the heat of any passion, not ever. I will be fierce for her, merely that. He gripped her hips and began to slowly move them in a circular pattern. How good her body feels! he felt the animal detachment form inside him and struggle to show itself as if her own glimmering form had ripped it into manifested presence. Her open eyes flashed golden and red as the image of flame formed in them, then met his own green and gold eyes. If he had become wolf, she had become flame.

  Underneath that flame, Maatkare saw her shape begin to change even further. He had seen the form she took before, but only in flashes and in the dark of their bed. It materialized more fully but still remained human. Her eyes cooled into a shade like his own but were slightly almond-shaped; her ears grew elongated and fangs formed. She is beautiful, he thought. No others will be as close to me as she is, though I will enjoy others and often. Love? I reject it, and yet… she knows my needs, admires the thirst and hunger, and matches it with her own. Is that what it is? She is becoming mine. Her cries of pleasure filled him and stripped him of self, elevating him. “There…” he said as she sighed and cried out again “Nefira Sekht Deka, you please me.” He continued, renewed.

  Ari heard the gentle lowing sound in the distance. It grew in volume and power as she felt it move down out of the hills and begin to nudge the tent walls with the first burst of wind.

  “Here. Babe. Get up and help me drag him away from the flap. The wind is starting up out there,” she motioned to Naibe, who was still cradling the young man’s badly deformed head on her lap. Djerah needed to be out of the way and sheltered. Sand and dust coming under the edge could make a dreadful situation worse. The young woman eased Djerah’s head down, rose, and pulled the mat.

  Just as they placed him against the firmly staked back wall of the tent, the bright afternoon sun faded behind a growing haze of kicked-up dirt.

  This isn’t too strong, Ari thought as the wind grew a little then leveled off to a steady, dull roar. Like the world’s most gentle haboob. She noticed Djerah’s head and face wer
e swelling badly and oozing a combination of old blood and watery fluid. He’s still alive. Getting hard to tell now, though. Ariennu bent over his ruined face to check for gurgles or faint breath sounds. The bruise on his ribs had grown. Fresh blood was drooling from his mouth and little uneven rasps sounded. He was trying to cough, but couldn’t. She had seen men with deep chest wounds before. Ari knew he would, at some point, drown in his own blood.

  Naibe had made a coverlet for him out of two of her shifts.

  Ari dabbed water on his weeping wounds, even though she didn’t think any of their care would make a difference.

  Djerah lay still. At regular intervals, he trembled a little as if he breathed his last.

  “I’m sorry I made Highness stop. I wasn’t thinking about how you would suffer,” Naibe whispered to the dying young man. “I just couldn’t let him kill you that way. I had to try.” She went silent for a moment and then used her Ashera voice to compel him: Please, Djerah, feel no pain. Speak to your heart and let us know if you are ready to leave the land of the living. MaMa and I will pray for you. We will weep for you; mourn you. She tried to make their old neighbor feel better about letting his life go. You were so very brave to try to save us. I thank you so much.

  Ariennu got a fresh cloth and mixed a few drops of boiled wine and water mixture onto the area where his shattered jawbone jutted out of an ugly laceration. It had been his mouth. The fluid bubbled, then settled and dripped into his deeply purpled neck. She knew that even if he couldn’t swallow the fluid, she could keep that place moist.

  A lowing sound in the distance grew nearer and louder; a cross between the bellow of a bull and the roar of wind. A gust buffeted the tent for a moment.

  “Hear that?” Ari asked. “Spirit’s coming for this poor baby,” her shoulders sagged, defeated. An unexplained anguish descended on her as if the sum of her adventures in life compared to the young man’s innocence was, at this moment, unbearable. “Oh you damned gods of death! You take me down to your valley of dust and let him be healed instead. I’ve done everything I need to do. I’ve loved. I’ve lost. This young one was just getting started. It’s not even fair.”

  Naibe’s eyes lit, shiny with her own tears, because she fully understood. That Ariennu, who had always been in control of her emotions, was so upset made it worse for her.

  “MaMa, don’t be sad. We have to be brave for Djerah. I do hear it, though. You know it’s a bull roaring. Maybe Marai’s soul is coming to take him, since his sister was Djee’s savta. Maybe they’ll both be coming,” She gently blew her breath out on the young man’s ruined face.

  Naibe hadn’t realized her hand was so close to the young man’s hand. She tensed when it moved against hers as if he was trying to grasp and squeeze it. The clear liquid of tears mixed with blood pooled at the broken orbit of one of his blind eyes.

  “And don’t you cry either,” Naibe whispered, then asked: “Do you want to live Djerah? Do you?”

  “Pfft. I hope he has better sense,” Ari hissed and stood up. “If he does live, what kind of life will he have? Blind? Likely deaf and unable to speak. The seat of knowledge in his heart will be lost to him. We’d have to feed him through a reed straw if he even gained the power to suck on it.” The elder woman’s thoughts turned to the man who had caused all of the damage. “Damned bastard!” her voice rose to a scream when she thought of the way Maatkare, in a complete and unquenched rage, had mauled the young man’s face until there was nothing left but shattered bone and spongey tissue. “You left him hanging between life and death; on the brink of Sheol like this and now you celebrate?” She paused in her tirade to notice a deep, almost animal, moan. It sustained and rose to a scream of ecstasy. Deka – followed by his whispers of encouragement.

  “Damn you! Both in there feasting on each other like it’s your cursed wedding night. Your men are even out here laughing and wagering how many times you’re going to bang her gong before you run dry.” Ariennu jumped to her feet and went to her basket. She opened the lid and grabbed one of her walking sandals.

  “Shut Up! Shut Up! Shut Up! I should jump over there and fling a shoe at that ass plowing her, I should. You both deserve death, not this poor child here.” Ari went to the flap to peel part of it open, sandal in one hand.

  “Mama, I stopped him. It’s my fault Djee is suffering like this,” Naibe hushed, but the sound of the wind grew louder and the force of it began to rattle the sides of the tent.

  Ari peeked outside the tent through a hole she opened in the bound front flap. The dust had grown thicker and started to swirl throughout the camp. Men scrambled into their tents, taking all flammable items inside. Three men with their heads wrapped in rags doused the central cook fire with water. They cursed mightily and leapt away from the cinder filled smoked that billowed and swirled around them. As soon as they were satisfied flame wouldn’t re-ignite or spread to any of the tents, they too rushed into shelter. Suddenly, the sound and dust was on everyone, muffling the sounds of breathless joy from the royal tent.

  I should hope it blows your tent over and shows you to your men, but you’d probably jump up and wave your nasty el around at them. Kemet royal pride be damned. Ariennu secured the flap and went back to Naibe and the still body of the young man.

  “Did he just…?” Ari noticed how still he had become. The wind gradually subsided.

  “I think he’s the same,” Naibe answered, then added. “Look, Ari,” she raised her hand. “This is how I know.” Djerah’s hand gripped hers with all of his fading strength. “He keeps trying to thought talk, but I won’t let him. He wants to tell us something.”

  “Wonder what?” she asked.

  At that moment, he suffered a little more; a moan escaped him.

  No pain, no pain… Naibe ordered, gripping and squeezing his hand in hers. Neither woman noticed the shadow, tall and great, that suddenly stood between the tents.

  CHAPTER 20: ENTRY INTO THE CAMP

  He strode into the camp behind the waning drafts of wind he had conjured. All the way up the river, Marai had dreamed about roaring into the encampment in the bull form of Bakha Montu. He rethought the fantasy of ripping down tents and laying waste to everything in his path, because he knew Naibe and Ariennu were in one of the tents tending to a fatally injured Djerah. Deka was in the royal tent with the prince. Sadly enough, he already knew she did not wish to be rescued.

  Contemplate, Man of Ai

  See the destiny before you

  To measure the steps

  In greatest care

  Is more awesome than the charge of the wrathful beast.

  The Children of Stone had repeated those words to him while he sat on the ridge overlooking the encampment. Whenever he shrugged their whispers away, they repeated the verse more clearly.

  So. Approach them as if I were a god, eh? He almost laughed to himself. The Children want me to show power, might, and strength, but not wrath. Why should I even listen to them? They haven’t helped me that much so far. This royal devil needs his death to come to him now. The sojourner stood between the tents with his arms folded.

  You have only self-deceived

  What stalls you is your doubt

  If you must not wait

  Go between moments that

  Wait for you.

  The chorus of childlike voices whispered their sing-song phrases in Marai’s heart. They sounded stronger and included the almost-warble of Metauthetep’s voice as if the Akaru’s own message sought a path through his thoughts. It, too, held back the strength of his avenging storm.

  Between moments. Marai remembered he had paused time when Prince Wserkaf helped him recover from the poison and then released it when the inspector had to leave him.

  I raised the moon higher with the Yah stone that Djerah took. I prayed to the goddess in my sweet Naibe that there would be enough time to know all that I needed and somehow it just happened. He sped time up on his journey to Qustul. He shook his silver head, knowing that he needed to decide qui
ckly. He was still too angry to be careful.

  “Then time will have to stop entirely for everyone here, because I cannot go forth, until my wrath eases.” He whispered aloud, then stood with his legs wide. He bowed his head as if it had suddenly become fully horned and put out both hands. With his deep breath, he felt a surge of dark lightning begin in his brow, leap down to his heart, and then pulse up from the back of his head to leap through his fingertips. At that moment, everything slowed, then reversed slightly as if it jumped into midair with a popping sound before it ground to a stop. As soon as everything paused motionless, Marai darted into the encampment and glanced around to see how well the spell had worked.

  Men who had taken shelter in their tents stood frozen and staring through small finger-made openings. He turned and found himself staring at Ariennu’s messy reddish curls. Her eyes were uncustomarily rimmed in red as if she had wanted to cry but couldn’t allow herself the luxury.

  Ari. Sweetness. I’m here now. Everything’s going to be all right. He knew every thought he had sent her resonated in her stone but because of the alteration of time came through as confused child-whispers. She looked upset. He wanted to enter the tent right away to see the extent of Djerah’s injuries, but he turned to the royal tent instead.

  If I go now and see him, I will show no mercy. Deka might be killed when I take that devil she’s with. Maybe altering the moments around me will stop the chances of that. He moved toward the royal tent past two huddled guards with their faces protected against the sand. One of them had turned to react to either a noise or the lack of sound.

  Marai started to open the tent, but froze at the gentle purring of sound inside his thoughts.

  Breathe.

  Release.

  Too angry. I know. It would be so easy to just kill him and carry Deka away, but it’s what a coward does. I want to fight him and kill him as a warrior so he will have my face etched into his eternal damnation.