The Quest (Novels of Ancient Egypt)

by Wilbur Smith

  Then the confusion cleared and he heard again the voice of Demeter the savant: This Eos is the minion of the Lie. She is the consummate impostor, the usurper, the deceiver, the thief, the devourer of infants.

  ‘She is the devourer of infants,’ he repeated. ‘She is the one who orders and directs these atrocities. I must turn my hatred for myself upon her. She is the one I truly hate. She is the one I have come to destroy. Perhaps by grafting this thing upon me she has unwittingly given me the instrument of her own destruction.’ He lifted his hands from his eyes and stared at them. They were no longer trembling.

  ‘Screw up your courage and resolve, Taita of Gallala,’ he whispered. ‘The skirmishing is over. The battle royal is about to begin.’

  He left the forest and made his way back to the library to retrieve Dr Rei’s scroll. He knew he must read and remember every detail. He must know how they desecrated the bodies of the little ones to create the vile seedings. He must make sure that the sacrifice of the infants was never forgotten. He went to the worktable where he had left the scroll, but it was gone.

  By the time he reached his own rooms in the sanatorium the sun had gone behind the crater wall. The servants had lit oil lamps, and the bowl that contained his evening meal was warming over the glowing charcoal in the copper brazier. After he had eaten sparingly, then brewed and drunk a bowl of the coffee grown by Dr Assem, he settled himself cross-legged on the sleeping mat and composed himself for meditation. This was his nightly routine, and the watcher at the hidden peep-hole would find nothing unusual in it.

  At last he doused the oil lamp and the room was plunged into darkness. Within a short time the aura of the man behind the peep-hole faded as he left his station for the night. Taita waited a little longer, then relit the lamp, but turned down the wick until it was only a soft glow. He held the Periapt in his cupped hands and concentrated on the mental image of Lostris, who had become Fenn. He opened the locket and took out the locks of her hair, the old and the new. His love for her was the central redoubt upon which his defences against Eos hinged. Holding the curls to his lips he affirmed that love.

  ‘Shield me, my love,’ he prayed. ‘Give me strength.’ He felt the power that flowed from the soft hair warm his soul, then laid it back in the locket, and took out the fragment of red stone they had removed from Meren’s eye. He placed it in the palm of his hand and concentrated upon it.

  ‘It is cold and hard,’ he whispered, ‘as is my hatred of Eos.’ Love was the shield, hatred the sword. He affirmed both. Then he placed the stone in the locket with the hair and hung the Periapt round his neck. He blew out the lamp and lay down, but sleep would not come.

  Disjointed memories of Fenn haunted him. He remembered her laughing and crying. He remembered her smiling and teasing. He remembered her serious expression as she studied some problem he had set for her. He remembered her body lying warm and soft beside him in the night, the gentle sigh of her breathing and the beat of her heart against his.

  I must see her once more. It may be the last time. He sat up on his mat. I dare not cast for her, but I can overlook her. These two astral manoeuvres were similar but in essence very different. To cast was to shout to her across the ether, when an unwelcome listener might detect the disturbance. To overlook was to spy upon her secretly, like the watcher at the peep-hole. Only a savant and seer, like Eos, might be able to detect it, as he had detected the watcher. However, he had refrained from any astral activity for so long now that the witch might no longer be on the alert.

  I must see Fenn. I must take the chance.

  He held the Periapt in his right hand. The locks of hair were part of Fenn and would guide him to her. He pressed the Periapt to his forehead and closed his eyes. He began to rock from side to side. The locket in his right hand seemed to take on some strange life of its own. Taita felt it pulsing softly in rhythm to his own heartbeat. He opened his mind and let the currents of existence enter freely, swirling round him like a great river. His spirit broke free of his body and he soared aloft as though he were borne on the wings of a gigantic bird. Far below, he saw fleeting, confused images of the forests and plains. He saw what looked like an army on the march, but as he drew closer he saw it was a slow-moving column of refugees, hundreds of men, women and children trudging along a dusty road, or packed into cumbersome ox-carts. There were soldiers with them, and men on horseback. But Fenn was not among the multitude.

  He moved on, his spirit soul ranging wide, holding the amulet as his lodestone, searching until the tiny cluster of buildings at Mutangi appeared in the distance ahead. As he drew closer, he realized with mounting alarm that the village was in ruins, blackened and charred. The astral memory of a massacre hung like fog over the village. He sifted through the traces but, with surging relief, found that neither Fenn nor any others of his band were among the dead. They must have escaped from Mutangi before it had been destroyed.

  He let his spirit soul range wider until he detected a pale glimmer of her presence in the foothills of the Mountains of the Moon, far to the west of the village. He followed the gleam and at last hovered above a narrow valley, hidden in the forests that covered the lower slopes of the mountains.

  She is down there. He searched closer until he discovered a picket of horses. Windsmoke was among them, and so was Whirlwind. Just beyond the horses, firelight glowed from the narrow entrance to a cave. Nakonto sat above the entrance with Imbali beside him. Taita allowed his spirit soul to drift inside.

  There she is. He picked out the form of Fenn stretched on a sleeping mat beside the small fire. Sidudu lay on one side of her, Meren beside Sidudu, then Hilto. Taita was so close to Fenn that he could hear her breathing. He saw that she had laid out her weapons close at hand. All the other members of the small party were also fully armed. Fenn was lying on her back. She wore only a linen loincloth and was bare to the waist. He gazed upon her tenderly. Since last he had seen her, her body had become even more womanly. Her breasts were larger and rounder, the nipples still tiny, but alert and darker pink now. The last vestiges of puppy fat had melted from her belly. The hollows and swells of her flesh were shadowed and highlighted by the low flames of the fire. In repose her countenance was lovely beyond his fondest memories. Taita realized with astonishment that she must now be at least sixteen. The years he had spent with her had passed so quickly.

  The pattern of her breathing changed and slowly she opened her eyes. They were green in the glow from the hearth fire but darkened as she sensed his presence. She raised herself on one elbow, and he could feel her making ready to cast for him. They were close to the Cloud Gardens. He must stop her before she betrayed her position to the hostile thing up there on the mountain. He let his spirit sign appear in the air before her eyes. She started up as she realized he was watching her. She stared directly at the sign and he commanded her to remain silent. She smiled and nodded.

  She formed her own spirit sign in reply to his, the delicate tracing of the water-lily bloom entwined with his falcon in a lover’s embrace. He stayed with her a moment more. The contact had been fleeting, but to tarry longer might be deadly. He placed a single last message in her mind: ‘I will return to you soon, very soon.’ Then he began to withdraw.

  She felt him going and the smile died on her lips. She held out a hand as if to hold him back, but he dared not stay.

  With a start he jerked back into his own body, and found himself sitting cross-legged on the sleeping mat in his room at the Cloud Gardens. The sorrow of parting from her, after so brief a contact, was a heavy weight on him.

  Over the months that followed he wrestled with his new flesh. Because he had always been a horseman, he treated it as if it were an unbroken colt, bending it to his will by force and persuasion. Since his youth he had made many more arduous demands upon his body than the one he was making now. He schooled and disciplined himself mercilessly. First he practised breathing techniques, which gave him extraordinary stamina and powers of concentration. Then he was ready to mas
ter his newly grown parts. Within a short time he was able, without manual stimulation, to remain fully tumescent from dusk to dawn. He schooled himself until he was able to withhold his seed indefinitely or to spend it at the precise moment of his choosing.

  Demeter had described what he had experienced when Eos had had him in her power and their ‘infernal coupling’. Taita knew that he would soon be the victim of her carnal invasion, and if he were to survive he must learn to resist. All his preparations for the struggle seemed futile. He was matching himself against one of the most voracious predators of the ages, yet he was a virgin.

  I need a woman to help me arm myself, he decided. Preferably one who is vastly experienced.

  Since their first meeting, he had seen Dr Lusulu on more than one occasion in the library. Like him, she seemed to spend much of her spare time in study. They had exchanged brief salutations, but although she seemed ready to take their friendship further, he had not encouraged it. Now he looked out for her and one morning he came across her, sitting at a worktable in one of the library rooms.

  ‘The peace of the goddess upon you,’ he greeted her quietly. He had heard Hannah and Rei use the same phrase. Lusulu looked up and smiled warmly. Her aura flared with fiery zigzag lines, her colour rose and her eyes glowed. When she was aroused, she was a handsome woman.

  ‘Peace on you, my lord,’ she replied. ‘I am much taken by the new cut of your beard. It suits you most admirably.’ They spoke for a few minutes, then Taita took his leave and went to his own table. He did not look in her direction again until much later when he heard her roll the scrolls she was studying and stand up. Her sandals slapped lightly on the stone floor as she crossed the room. Now he glanced up and their eyes met. She inclined her head towards the door and smiled again. He followed her out into the forest. She was walking away slowly along the path towards the sanatorium. He caught her up before she had gone another hundred yards. They chatted together, and at last she asked, ‘I often wonder about your recovery from the procedure that Dr Hannah performed on you. Has it gone as well as it started off?’

  ‘Indeed, yes,’ he assured her. ‘Do you recall that you discussed with Dr Hannah my ability to ejaculate?’

  He saw her aura light when he used the evocative word, and her voice was slightly hoarse as she replied, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I can assure you that it is now happening regularly. As a surgeon and a scientist, you might have some professional interest in a demonstration.’

  They kept up the pretence of being colleagues until they entered his rooms. He took a moment to cover the peep-hole in the corner with his cloak, then came back to where she stood.

  ‘I will need your assistance once again,’ he said, as he took off his tunic.

  ‘Of course,’ she agreed, and came to him readily. She reached down for him and, after a few deft strokes, she said, ‘You have grown a great deal since our first meeting.’ Then, a little later, she asked, ‘My lord, may I ask if you have ever known a woman before?’

  ‘Alas!’ He shook his head mournfully. ‘I would not know how to begin.’

  ‘Then let me instruct you.’

  Naked she was even more handsome than when she was clothed. She had wide hips, large resilient breasts and big dark nipples. When she lay on her back on his sleeping mat, spread her thighs and guided him into her he was taken off-guard by the heat and the clinging oleaginous embrace of her secret flesh. He came perilously close to spending himself before they had begun in earnest. With a huge effort he regained control of himself and his body. Now he was able to profit from all his practice and self-training. He blocked out his own sensations and concentrated on reading her aura in the way a mariner reads a chart of the oceans. He used it to divine her needs and wants before she became aware of them. He made her cry out and whimper. He made her screech like a condemned woman on a torture table. She spasmed and her whole body convulsed. She pleaded with him to stop, then begged him never to stop. ‘You are killing me,’ she sobbed at last. ‘In the holy name of the goddess, I can go on no longer.’ But he went on and on.

  She was weakening, unable to meet his thrusts. Her face was wet with tears and sweat. Dark shadows of fear fell across her eyes. ‘You are a devil,’ she whispered. ‘You are the devil himself.’

  ‘I am the devil that you, Hannah and others like you have created.’

  She was ready at last. There was no resistance left in her. He held her down, pinning her deeply. Her body and mind were open to him. He covered her mouth with his, forcing her lips open, then arched his back and, like a pearl diver taking a long last breath before plunging below the surface, he drew it all out, her strength, her wisdom and her knowledge, her triumphs and defeats, her fear and her deeply buried guilt. He took everything she had and left her empty on the mat. Her breathing was quick and shallow, her skin pale and translucent as wax. Her eyes stared ahead unblinking, but saw nothing. He sat beside her through the rest of that night, reading her memories, learning her secrets, truly coming to know her.

  The dawn light was filtering into the room when at last she stirred and rolled her head from side to side. ‘Who am I?’ she whispered weakly. ‘Where am I? What has happened to me? I can remember nothing.’

  ‘You are a person named Lusulu, but you have wrought great evil in your life. You were tormented by guilt. I have taken it and all else from you. But there is nothing of yours that I wish to keep. I am giving it back to you, especially the guilt. In the end it will kill you, and you so richly deserve that death.’

  As he spread her again and knelt over her, she tried to fight him off but she did not have the strength. As he entered her for the second time she screamed, but the scream burbled in her throat and did not reach her lips. When he was deep in her, he took another deep breath and strained. He expelled it all back into her in a single long ejaculation. After he had finished, he uncoupled from her and went to bathe himself.

  When he came back into the sleeping chamber she was pulling on her tunic. She gave him one look of stark terror, and he saw that her aura was shredded. She stumbled to the door, pulled it open and scuttled into the passage. The sound of her running feet receded.

  He felt the first twinge of pity for her, but he recalled all her heinous crimes and it fell away. Then he thought: But she has made retribution in small part by teaching me how I must deal with her mistress, the great witch.

  Day after day and week after week, he waited patiently for the invitation from Eos that he knew must come. Then, one morning, he awoke with the familiar sense of well-being and expectation. ‘The witch is summoning me to her lair,’ he told himself. On the terrace overlooking the lake he ate a frugal breakfast of dates and figs as he watched the sun break through the morning mist and clothe the walls of the crater with golden light. Apart from the servants he saw nobody: not Hannah, Rei, or Assem. He was relieved by this: he did not trust himself to come face to face with one of them so soon after the revelations contained in the scroll from the secret room. Nobody accosted him or attempted to restrain him when he left the building and set out for the gates of the upper gardens.

  He walked slowly, taking his time to assemble and review his forces. The only reliable intelligence he had about Eos was the description Demeter had given him. He was able to run over it word for word as he walked. So complete were his powers of recall that it was as if the old man was speaking to him again.

  If she is threatened she can change her appearance as a chameleon does, Demeter’s voice said in his ears, and Taita remembered the manifestations he had encountered at the grotto: the imp, the pharaoh, the gods and goddesses and his own self.

  Yet vanity is among her multitudinous vices. You cannot imagine the beauty she is able to assume. It stuns the senses and negates reason. When she takes on this aspect no man can resist her wiles. The sight of her reduces even the most noble soul to the level of a beast. Taita cast his mind back to his sighting of Eos in the operating room at the sanatorium. He had not glimpsed her face th
rough the black veil, but such was her beauty that even unseen it had flooded the room.

  Despite all my training as an adept I was not able to restrain my basest instincts. Demeter spoke again, and Taita hearkened to him. I lost the ability and the inclination to reckon consequences. For me, in that moment, nothing but her existed. I was consumed by lust. She toyed with me, like the winds of autumn with a dead leaf. To me it seemed she gave me everything, every delight contained in this world. She gave me her body. Taita heard again his tormented groans as he went on: Even now the memory drives me to the brink of madness. Each rise and swell, enchanted opening and fragrant cleft…I did not try to resist her, for no mortal man could do so.

  Will I be able to do so? Taita wondered.

  Then Demeter’s most dire warning echoed in his head: Taita, you remarked that the original Eos was an insatiable nymphomaniac, and that is so, but this other Eos outstrips her in appetite. When she kisses, she sucks out the vital juices of her lover, as you or I might suck out the juices from a ripe orange. When she takes a man between her thighs in that exquisite but infernal coupling she draws out of him his very substance. She takes from him his soul. His substance is the ambrosia that nourishes her. She is as some monstrous vampire that feeds on human blood. She chooses only superior beings as her victims, men and women of Good Mind, servants of the Truth, a magus of illustrious reputation or a gifted seer. Once she detects her victim, she runs him down as relentlessly as a wolf harries a deer.

  As she has done to me. Taita reflected.

  She is omnivorous. Those were the words of Demeter who had known her as no living man ever could. No matter age or appearance, physical frailty or imperfection. It is not their flesh that feeds her appetites, but their souls. She devours young and old, men and women. Once she has them in her thrall, wrapped in her silken web, she draws from them their accumulated store of learning, wisdom and experience. She sucks it out through their mouths with her accursed kisses. She draws it out from their loins in her loathsome embrace. She leaves only a desiccated husk.