Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt)

by Scott, Veronica

  Far out in the desert, a falcon shrieked a challenge as thunder rolled. Losing her balance, Nima startled, pulse pounding. Kamin caught her in his arms.

  “I hope someone will do us this much honor when we’re departed from the earth,” Nima said as Kamin picked her up to carry her to their temporary refuge.

  “I wish it hadn’t been necessary,” he answered. “I wish the Hyksos were gone from these lands and Nat-re-Akhte could rule our people in peace.”

  Twining her arms around his neck, leaning as close as she could get, Nima said, “Surely the map and other information you carry will affect the balance of power in this province, tilt the scales for Egypt.”

  “We’ll see. I’ve worked up an appetite now, carrying you,” he teased. “Will the stew be done soon?”

  She pushed at his shoulder, her small fist making no impression on his well-sculpted muscles. “I weigh next to nothing, and you know it, soldier. But, yes, I think we could eat.”

  He had two bowls of her delicious rabbit stew, augmented with vegetables they’d harvested in the abandoned gardens. Although he urged her to eat, Nima dined sparingly. As night fell, they curled up together beside the fire in the ruins of the small house, Kamin holding her close, until she was sure he had fallen asleep, despite his expressed intention to remain alert and on guard through the night. Nima waited until his breathing evened out, and he was deeply lost in slumber before wriggling from his arms. Thank goodness the garden held both the herbs to drug him into sleep and the ones I needed to stay unaffected. She took another pinch of the latter for good measure now, swallowing the powdered leaves with water from the pitcher. Tenderly, she covered him with his cloak, dropping a kiss on his cheek. Dousing the fire so no passing enemies would see it and investigate, she retrieved the cane she’d created for herself after the encounter with Horus. Using the cane she’d fashioned from a broken table leg, she hobbled to the doorway.

  Pausing for one last look at her lover, Nima wiped away a tear. I wish I could write, wish I could leave him a note, something to beg his forgiveness. “Please don’t hate me, Kamin, no matter what Horus chooses to tell you.” Resolutely, she walked into the moonlight and made her way into the desert, painfully retracing the route they had taken.

  Chapter Nine

  Barely conscious, Nima walked aimlessly, limping through the hot sands. She traveled to the west. Or maybe I'm going in circles. She’d had no water since the morning and had lost the cane at some point along the way. Her foot throbbed with every step, and her back ached dully, thrown out of kilter by the need to limp. Hearing the rumble of chariots and shouting behind her, she sank to the ground, arms resting on her knees, head down. Her heart pounded in her chest, but even stark terror failed to energize her enough to fight or flee.

  The Hyksos chariots swept to a halt in a rough circle with her at the center, dust swirling into the air, making her cough. Amarkash jumped from the nearest vehicle and strode over to her, grabbing her hair with enough force to make her head ache. “Egyptian bitch, you’ve led us a long chase.” He slapped her across the face, and she fell on her side, curling into a ball.

  “Water,” she begged through cracked lips. “Please.”

  Two soldiers yanked her to her feet, and a cry of pure agony ripped from her throat as the men tried to make her walk.

  “I can’t put any weight on my foot. Your hellhounds bit me.” She wept, clinging to the nearest warrior’s greasy leather breastplate, keeping the toes of her right foot from touching the ground.

  Amarkash came closer, gesturing to his men. “Let her sit. Unwrap her foot.”

  As the ugly bruises and bite marks were revealed, he hissed through his teeth, spinning on his heel to confront a man near the chariots. “Priest! Your creatures weren’t supposed to damage her.”

  Drinking casually from a bulging water skin, a pudgy celebrant of Qemtusheb strolled to join Nima and the captain. He wiped his mouth and replaced the stopper, smiling as Nima watched his every move, licking her painfully cracked lips. He waggled the container in her direction. “You want water, don’t you? Well, perhaps in a moment or two, if you behave.”

  “If you tell us what we want to know,” Amarkash amended. Leaning over, he grabbed her chin, forcing Nima to look up at him. “Where’s your lover? What happened to the soldier?”

  “He left me. I couldn’t keep up with him after your beasts savaged my foot. He said I was a useless burden. He took all the water we’d gotten from the caravan,” she said sullenly.

  “More likely he tired of your scrawny body.” Amarkash rested his hands on his hips and stared at the sky for a long moment while Nima waited. “Oh, all right, give her something to drink. But not too much.”

  Grabbing at the water skin a soldier handed her, Nima tried not to gulp, lest drinking too fast make her ill.

  “Can you heal her foot?” Amarkash demanded of the priest while she sipped the water.

  “Let me see.” Instinctively, she inched away when he knelt beside her. He smelled of some powerful spice, with an underlying hint of coppery blood. Ragged beard and jagged yellow teeth completed the picture. Despite the heat of the day, his fleshy hands were cold as he unwound the bandages and poked and probed her ankle. Nima clenched her teeth, nails digging into her palms at the pain he so casually inflicted. After a moment, he gestured to Amarkash to come closer. “This is most unusual.”

  The captain flicked his whip against his leg impatiently. “What?”

  “Observe what happens when I touch her.” The priest laid his hand on her calf. His handprint showed black for a moment on her skin, then flared red and disappeared.

  “Stop touching me,” Nima said, swatting at his hand. “The pressure on my skin hurts.”

  “She has power of some sort.” The priest sounded excited. “She would make an excellent sacrifice. Kill a vessel of power like this girl, and Qemtusheb is drawn to appear.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a dancer,” Nima protested, pulse racing in fear. All Egypt knew the Hyksos practiced human sacrifice to their god. A person’s ka was destroyed in the process, never to know the Afterlife, no matter how many prayers were offered later.

  “You hope you’re still a dancer,” Amarkash retorted coldly. “General Nebuchazz will have no use for a lame performer. He won’t even want to bed you—he can’t abide physical flaws.”

  Rubbing his hands on the back of his red and black-striped robes, the priest stood. “I can’t heal the wound. Even though the creatures I summoned caused the damage, the power in her body interferes with mine. She’ll have to heal herself, if it can be done at all.”

  “Of course I’ll heal,” Nima said. “It takes time.”

  Amarkash coiled the whip, and she cringed. Terror made her weakened body tremble. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

  “We don’t have time.” Amarkash spat and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We’ve been chasing you all over this damned desert for days. General Nebuchazz wanted you to dance for him on our major feast day, which falls in less than a week.” Releasing his grip on Nima, the captain frowned at the priest. “Consider carefully whether you can heal her or not.” He held up a hand as the priest tried to protest. “All I’m saying is, if Nebuchazz ever finds out you could have healed her and didn’t, because you wanted her as a blood sacrifice, he’ll exact vengeance. So think carefully what spells you might know for repairing a damaged ankle.” He signaled to the soldiers. “Bring her to my chariot. Now we’ve found the general’s wayward treasure, we can proceed to the fortress. No more time wasted.”

  They don’t even want Kamin. The officer who had captured him must not have told the other Hyksos Kamin was a spy. So giving myself up means he’ll be able to escape. Nima swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat as a burly soldier carried her over his shoulder to the waiting chariot, one callused hand caressing her bottom through the dress. Ignoring her whimpers of pain, Amarkash bound her wrists roughly behind her and hobbled h
er ankles. “I’m taking no chances with you. I’ll not lose you again. And you won’t be cooking for us. You may sit in my chariot, since you can’t stand on your damaged ankle.” Shoving her in front of him, he picked up the reins and whip and set his horses into motion.

  Trying not to give in to her tears, Nima leaned against the side of the jolting vehicle as they raced deeper into the desert toward the distant, purple mountain range.

  ***

  Groggily, Kamin rolled over and sat up, throwing the tangled cloak aside. His head felt stuffed with cotton and ached abominably at the same time. Vision blurry, he rubbed his eyes. “Nima?” It’s too quiet. He lurched to his feet, grabbing at the wall of the ramshackle hut to keep his balance. After the vertigo passed, he tried opening his eyes again and surveyed the shack. Her cloak is missing. Wings of Horus, what has she done?

  His stomach cramped, and he barely made it outside the building in a stumbling run before he threw up all he had eaten. Her cursed herbs—she did use them on me. She must have stirred them in my bowl of stew when I wasn’t paying attention. But it wasn’t anger coursing through his body to clear the drug-induced fog; rather, the icy grip of sheer terror closed around his heart. How long has she been gone? How much of a head start does she have on me? Little fool, sacrificing herself to draw the Hyksos away from my trail! I told her I wouldn’t accept such a sacrifice.

  Shuffling into the house, he grabbed his weapons and the supplies she’d left him, and headed for the edge of the tiny oasis, regaining more and more of his coordination by the minute. Hand shading his eyes, he stepped out from under the palm trees onto the sands, scanning the ground for any telltale tracks.

  The falcon swooped at him, screaming.

  Kamin ducked and covered his face from the attack, retreating. Drawing his sword to fend off anymore aggression from the bird, he raised his shield and headed for the footprints.

  Gliding right over his head, the bird landed directly in front of him, growing to man size in the blink of an eye, black and gray-banded wings flared to impede his progress.

  “I can’t allow her to be retaken,” he said to the bird, veering off to the left to work his way beyond the obstacle. “I love her.”

  Green light flared, temporarily blinding him. As Kamin’s vision returned, the bird transformed into a warrior, standing taller than he, holding a golden shield and a gleaming sword throwing off the rays of the desert sun. The god’s finely pleated kilt was white and gold, and on his head he wore the towering red and white crown. A stylized hawk pectoral in turquoise, gold and coral stretched across his impressively muscled, bare chest, the colors echoed in his gem-studded belt. For a moment after taking human form, the pupils of Horus’s eyes remained in their godly guise—one a diamond sun casting rainbows and the other a silver moon. “What of the oaths you swore, to me and to Nat-re-Akhte, your Pharaoh?” Glaring at Kamin, blinking his eyes back to a more normal black, Horus pointed the sword at his chest. “Do you love her more than Egypt? Is her life worth more than the Black Lands themselves?”

  Shield in front of him, Kamin knelt on one knee, sword held upright. My heart wants to shout yes, Nima’s life is worth any price to me. Better choose my words carefully. “With all due respect, Great One, Nima doesn’t deserve to die to save me. She can’t have gone far yet, so I can catch up to her. She’s injured. She thinks she’d slow me down too much—”

  “And she’s right.” Horus raised one hand, closing his fist as he did so, and the tracks dissolved as if blown away by a faint breeze. “Think, warrior, with your head, not your heart.” Echoes of his words rumbled across the dunes like distant thunder. “There is this one chance to strike a mighty blow at those who threaten Egypt. If the Hyksos’ secret base is destroyed, the setback will repel the evil their god seeks to impose on Egypt. You alone have the information to guide the nomarch’s army to the hidden fortress. You alone hold the key to cutting off the head of the serpent, their most crafty general." Horus watched him closely, head forward and tilted as the falcon might do when evaluating prey. “What is the life of one girl against the loss of an entire province of Egypt?”

  Kamin could hardly think for the ache in his heart. He forced a deep breath of the hot desert air into his lungs. Egypt or Nima? I know what I want to choose, but I also know my duty. I must try another tack with the Great One. “Her life matters more to me than my own.”

  Horus nodded. “Acknowledged, warrior, but loss of this nome will be a serious crack in your country’s defenses. Not lightly did the ancients name this province as Shield of Egypt.”

  Pain gnawing at his gut, Kamin slowly shook his head. “Nima would be the first to agree, obviously, since she’s trying to draw Amarkash away from me and the information I carry." He stared longingly at the patch of sand where Nima’s footprints had been before Horus had obliterated them. Rolling his shoulders and straightening his spine, Kamin stood, gazing straight into the god’s mesmerizing eyes. “I hear and obey your command, Great One—”

  “As a soldier should do.”

  “But I ask a boon in return.”

  Horus met the challenge with a blink, his pupils reverting to the sun and the moon, casting rainbows and silvery illumination around them both until Kamin was dizzy. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and green light flashed in the darkened sky. The Great One grew even taller. “What is it you ask? Do you wish me to guarantee she’ll be waiting for you in the Afterlife?”

  Remaining resolute, even as the god’s voice buffeted him like wind gusts, Kamin shook his head. I dream of having Nima in this life. “I want the chance to rescue her. I want the opportunity to lead the army to the enemy’s fortress in time to accomplish both goals, Egypt’s and my own.”

  “A nicely balanced supplication.” Horus considered, head tipped sideways again, eyes going black. “The enemy has created a space wherein their god reigns supreme. I can’t reach into their citadel and pluck her out.”

  Looking away, Kamin studied the desert around them. Something has to be possible, even with Qemtusheb’s influence causing problems. She and I struggled so hard. “Great One, can you delay the Hyksos on their way to the compound? Send sandstorms, broken chariots, lame horses, anything to give me time?” Hope warmed his heart as he rattled off the suggestions. “My Nima is clever—she can probably thwart their plans for her somewhat even after she arrives at their stronghold, but I’m going to need a fatter margin of days to get the army mobilized and on the move.”

  Throwing back his head, the god laughed, sand swirling away from him in giant vortexes at the sound. “A cosmic game of senet! Play tricks on our adversaries as they cross the open desert I can, and will do, warrior. I swear upon the scales of truth overseen by my sister Ma’at, I’ll delay the enemy on their journey through the Red Lands.” Raising the sword, Horus pointed at the horizon to the east. “Now get you gone to Tentaris.”

  ***

  After many long, frustrating days on the trail, the Hyksos column finally straggled through the gates of the massive fortress. Nima’s ankle was a bit improved today, and she stood in the chariot next to Amarkash as he led his troops inside. The huge wooden gates slammed shut behind the stragglers of their group. Glancing around the courtyard, Nima did a quick count of the fleet of waiting chariots parked alongside the walls. She eyed the stacks of swords, maces, bows and arrows.

  “You stockpile the tools of war,” she said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. They must have a massive army to need so many weapons.

  “We’ve been busy, Egyptian. While your pharaoh takes his time to the north, ensuring his secure seat on the throne, my people scout this province, make our plans, set our spies in place. Soon, very soon, we’ll be marching from this forsaken mountain and grabbing victory. We only await the blessing of our god at the festival to launch the offensive. He’s been most favorable to our efforts so far. This stronghold is protected by his powers. None of your inferior Egyptian gods can enter or even spy upon us.” Amarka
sh grabbed her by the ropes on her wrists. “You’re worrying about the wrong subjects, girl. We’re going to see General Nebuchazz now. He’s much more your concern than strategies and battles.”

  Nima didn’t offer any resistance as he pulled her from the chariot. Being in the actual citadel after so many days of trying to avoid that very destination weighed on her like a stone in the gut. The place was ominous and dark, permeated by an intense spicy scent, giving her a dull headache. The idea the Hyksos planned to launch their offensive so soon circled around in her mind like a dust devil. Could Kamin get the nomarch’s army ready for such an onslaught in time? Can I do anything to delay their plans? Nima laughed ruefully under her breath. She was hardly in a position to take action on Egypt’s behalf.

  Amarkash carried her across the courtyard, into the cool darkness of the central building, the priest pacing alongside. The captain strode along as if Nima’s weight was nothing. The halls were crowded with soldiers, leering at her as they pressed themselves against the walls to clear a path. She heard unmistakably lascivious comments , even if she didn’t understand the exact words. Holding her head as high as she could, Nima avoided eye contact.

  I hope you got away safely, Kamin, got to the nomarch with your information by now. Matters are at a more dangerous pass than we thought. She hated Amarkash touching her body. His long, bony fingers dug into her flesh, making her skin crawl. Nima tried to hold herself rigidly away from contact with him as much as possible, even as he grinned and hugged her closer.

  Her captor carried her into an antechamber, guarded by tall, well-muscled warriors, showing more precision and discipline than Nima had seen displayed by any of the army before, even by Amarkash himself. The officer of the watch sent a man to inform the general of their arrival. Setting Nima on her feet while they waited, Amarkash kept his proprietary hold on her elbow with one hand, while brushing the dust off his kilt with the other. The sentry reappeared in the doorway shortly, reporting the general would see the new arrivals at once. Beckoning them to follow, the officer marched toward the next chamber. Amarkash gestured for Nima to precede him.