by Idun Asther
Francis Ash looked askance at him, but Hogarth was already hurrying ahead. He glanced back over his shoulder just as they were about to enter the Circle of Lebanon — a ringed path with mausoleums on both sides and dead weeds lying flat between stones and frozen soil.
"Best stay close now, Mr Ash."
Francis Ash hastened his steps, wondering why the professor had begun to hurry. Though it wasn't surprising, he supposed; for all his own curiosity, he too would prefer to bring this expedition to a quicker end. Walking closely behind his mentor, he kept a keen eye on his surroundings.
"I do wish we knew what we are looking for."
Professor Hogarth did not answer. Instead, to Ash's surprise, he took his arm and pulled him along even more hurriedly.
"Professor, did you see something?"
"Yes, over there." Hogarth raised the arm holding the lantern, using it to point to one of the mausoleums up ahead.
Ash gasped out loud. Gravel and loose soil were blowing across the path towards the structure, despite the complete absence of even the slightest breeze directly above ground; their present location was far too low and sheltered for that.
"Professor, how—"
"Let us find out, shall we?" Hogarth's voice sounded excited, like that of someone urging the unwrapping of a parcel of which only he knew the contents.
They quickly followed the unlikely dust storm to the mausoleum ahead. Either the unusual colour of the stone or their lantern light must have been responsible for the glow it seemed to emit, and which — though of a warm, reddish tone — had nothing comforting about it. The mausoleum looked even larger and older than the surrounding ones, and it curved upwards to a flat roof on which strange animal-like gargoyles were perched.
Ash's eyes swept back down the structure, and he inhaled sharply. "One of the doors is open!"
"Yes." Hogarth sounded suddenly resigned rather than excited.
The door — heavy stone with a sturdy metal handle — was just wide enough ajar for a man to squeeze through. The interior was a chasm of darkness.
Ash shivered. "You will think me a coward, professor—"
Hogarth looked at him. "I have never thought you a coward, Mr Ash. Quite the opposite." He smiled. "Despite your youth, I am willing to proclaim you the bravest man I know."
Ash averted his eyes, embarrassed and unwilling to complete his earlier statement. "Thank you, professor."
Professor Hogarth smiled. "What were you going to tell me, Ash?"
"Nothing. I— I believe we should look inside."
Hogarth nodded. "Are you certain?"
Francis Ash was far from certain. In fact, he was certain of only two things: that he would prefer to be anywhere else at that point, and that he did not wish to disappoint his teacher and mentor for anything in the world. Of course, it was the latter which decided the matter for him.
"I am, professor."
"Good man." Professor Hogarth turned towards the doorway, lantern held high in his hand. "Onward, then, into the kingdom of the dead," he said dramatically.
Ash attempted to smile. "Onward," he murmured, following closely behind.
The flickering of the professor's lantern appeared dimmer than it had been only minutes earlier, and the atmosphere around them was more stifling than made any sense in a place outdoors, even a place such as this. The closer they came to the open doorway, the more oppressive the air seemed, and Ash had to use all his willpower to keep from fleeing. He would not abandon his professor to whatever horror might await them, and that was all there was to it.
"I shall enter first," Professor Hogarth stated as they came to stand before the abyss.
Ash's mouth was dry. He wanted to offer to go in first, he truly did, but his tongue refused to function.
"Stay close to me, Ash." The professor's voice was low and reassuring as ever.
"Yes. Yes, of course."
Hogarth took a deep breath, then squeezed past the open slab of stone, lantern held behind rather than in front of him so as to afford Ash continuous visual contact with him.
Ash followed immediately, his eyes making out only patches of unpolished stone in the flicker of lantern light.
Then they were inside. At first, everything appeared as black as darkest night, but once their eyes began to adjust, the darkness was not black at all; instead, there was a faint red glow in the enclosure.
"Ah." Professor Hogarth's voice sounded oddly hollow.
Ash stopped short behind him, peering past his shoulder. His eyes widened in terror and his heart came to a sudden halt, and the red glow once more faded to black as Ash collapsed to the dusty stone floor.
◆◆◆
When Ash came to, some indefinable amount of time later, he found himself paralysed; not entirely, as he could bend his head and struggle forward an inch or two, but his hands and feet were shackled to the icy wall behind him. Iron bands were cutting into his wrists and ankles, and he could focus on nothing in the dark except the pain where the shackles were rubbing his skin raw, even through his clothing. Soon, however, his eyes grew accustomed to the faint light from the lantern on the ground, and the full horror of his situation began to dawn on him.
There, not ten feet away, stood two figures and, judging by its immense height, one was the horror which had awaited them.
Ash whimpered, his attention fixed upon that apparition. He knew what it, what he, was, but his rational mind struggled against such a conclusion, for it was utter lunacy. And yet, what else could this thing be? It was tall — unnaturally so — and human at first glance, naked flesh barely covered with golden finery and studded with rubies. But, at second glance, on raising one's eyes, any trace of humanity vanished from the creature.
Ash tasted the salt of his own sweat at the corners of his mouth. He could not deny the evidence of his own eyes, no matter how much he wished to.
The thing was human only up to its neck. Its head was that of an animal: not quite jackal, not quite dog, not quite fox, not quite anything Ash had ever seen except in the pages of very rare, old books.
It was only then that it fully dawned on him that only he was shackled to the wall. Professor Hogarth was unrestrained, facing the creature and talking to it. No, arguing with it; he sounded angrier than Ash had ever known him to be. Hogarth was speaking Arabic, though Ash could not understand all the words.
Suddenly, both Hogarth and the creature became aware that Ash had regained consciousness. The thing moved closer, but not by walking. It was some distance away and, suddenly, it was immediately before Ash, staring into his sweat-beaded face with dead animal eyes.
"No, Lord!" called Professor Hogarth.
Ash held his breath. Lord?
The creature flew around, advancing on the professor just as quickly, towering even over his tall stature in a menacing stance. And then, to Ash's unbearable horror, it opened its snout and spoke in a voice like thunder. "How dare you!"
Ash shuddered.
Professor Hogarth flinched, but held his ground, fear etched into every line of his face but determination in his stance. "Forgive me, Lord. I merely—"
The creature let out a furious growl that seemed to shake the very walls of the tomb. "Be silent!" it hissed. "Remember your place, Hogarth. Remember why I am here."
Ash grew fainter by the moment. "Professor," he stammered, his voice sounding as if he had been without water for days.
"Ash, please be quiet," Hogarth implored.
"I— I don't understand."
The thing turned to face Ash again, made to move towards him, but Hogarth stepped in the way. "No, Lord! You must spare him."
The laughter ringing from the mutation was more terrifying than its fury. "Spare him?" it screeched. "Spare him! You have brought him to me. You have lured him right into the heart of my domain. You, Hogarth. You!"
Francis Ash shivered, nausea and tears welling up in him at once. "Professor," he whispered brokenly. "What is he talking about?"
Professor Hogar
th turned to him, his face pale and drawn. "The reward, Ash. Such a great reward." He sighed. "I wanted to give you what no mortal could ever give you unaided, and I wished only to be there to see you receive it."
"I trusted you," Ash murmured, unable to even imagine what this reward could be, and knowing he should be furious but feeling capable only of deep sorrow.
Hogarth averted his eyes. "I know." He sighed. "I know."
"He brought you to me to receive your gift," the creature mocked. "It was nothing less than immortality he sought to give you. It was his misfortune, and yours, that he did not know more about me and my kind to know better."
Ash quivered with fear and confusion. "What are you?" he asked. The question remained unanswered, but he could have sworn the animal snout twisted into a grin.
Hogarth closed his eyes, swallowed. "Can you not tell?"
Ash looked at him sadly. "I know what he looks like, though I dare not trust my eyes."
Hogarth met his eyes again. "Set."
"The Egyptian god of the desert, storms, chaos and destruction," Ash said tonelessly, as if reciting from their book.
The professor nodded. "I called him, Mr Ash. I have spent the past year learning to invoke him. I gave him promises, prayers, bribes and, while I would not provide them for him," he lowered his head, "I kept quiet about the sacrifices he claimed."
"And I came, did I not?" Set gloated. "And now you must pay your final instalment, Hogarth. The others, who came to me guided by foolish curiosity, were only sustenance. This one..." He came towards Ash and stared down at him, its human hand raised to his chin, turning it this way and that. Ash whimpered with pain. The hand on his chin was like fire.
"This one is substance. The crowning glory." He tipped Ash's face up, fixing him with a smirking look. "I can see why you are so fond of him, Hogarth." With a hiss, he added, "And now you think you can change your mind?"
"You betrayed me," the professor accused. "You promised eternal life for him, but what you wanted was a consort!"
"Yes. A new oasis to my desert." The hideous snout grinned at Ash, enjoying his confusion. "Hogarth chose well, though he did not know just how well. The one who reigns over the oases has always been my favourite among my kind, but he is mild-tempered and has begun to fear me. You will take his place, for his name too is Ash."
Francis Ash looked at him in horror. The creature gave a hollow laugh.
"Imagine my delight when Hogarth made his demands on your behalf. Oh, how he described you!" Set laughed. "The brightest, most adventurous, most beautiful creature on Earth. Worthy to keep the company of the gods. What he did not know was that you bear a name I am well accustomed to."
Professor Hogarth interrupted. With a sad look at Ash, he said, "I wanted you to be allowed to journey into the very realm of the gods."
Ash felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Those were the very words he himself had used to describe the grandest gift he could possibly be given. It had been a foolish remark, a joke on the spur of the moment.
Set scoffed. "And so he shall, Hogarth, and soon, but I will not let him return to you. He will be mine, once he has passed into my domain. I cannot exist between worlds like this forever."
"You cannot kill him!" Hogarth declared passionately. "I will not allow it." He stepped in front of Ash to shield him, his revolver in his hand and aimed at Set.
The creature smirked, stretching a hand out towards it; the weapon melted into a shapeless mass, and Hogarth dropped it with a groan of pain.
"I have the power to crush you into the finest dust or burn you to a cinder. What can you possibly do to stop me from taking what I want?"
Francis Ash struggled against his bonds, trying to suppress his pain and fear, and even the overwhelming disappointment. He saw no chance to get free, but he had to try. There had to be something he could do.
Then he remembered what he was wearing around his neck; it seemed a vain hope indeed, but it was the only one. If only he could reach it.
"Professor," he hissed.
Hogarth did not turn, but moved imperceptibly backwards, closer to Ash.
"Around my neck," Ash whispered. "The Eye of Horus you gave me." This would be his salvation or his damnation. He could not afford to trust his mentor again, but he could not afford otherwise either. "Is Horus not his mortal enemy?"
A soft noise in the back of Hogarth's throat. "You have it? Here? Thank heavens!"
"What are you muttering?" growled the creature.
Professor Hogarth lowered his head and lied smoothly, "Mr Ash is making his displeasure with me known."
Set laughed, and it was a horrible sound. "He will not be displeased much longer."
Hogarth looked at him. "You truly will not spare him then?"
"I will not."
Hogarth nodded slowly. "Then there is nothing I can do, Lord. May I at least say goodbye?"
Set snorted scornfully. "What should I care? But hurry. I lose patience with your sentimentality."
Hogarth nodded. Then he turned around, cupped Ash's face in his hands, and said softly, "I do not deserve your forgiveness, Mr Ash. I wished only to offer you a gift greater than anything else I could ever give you in this world." While he spoke, he moved his hands inside Ash's collar, fumbling for the closure of the gold chain at his nape.
Ash's eyes closed slowly, a shiver trailing down his spine from the points of contact between fingertips and skin. It had nothing to do with fear or horror, except perhaps horror that he should react this way to his professor's touch, even at a time like this. His eyes opened again, and he knew his feelings had to be terribly easy to read when he met Hogarth's eyes.
There was a surprised gasp, and the blue eyes roamed his face, searching for more evidence. Finally, they lowered to his mouth, and Hogarth leaned in and kissed him firmly, but so tenderly that it threatened to break Ash's heart.
The kiss might have lasted a moment, or an eternity and, when it was over, and their eyes met full of longing and regret, it took a few deep breaths before Ash could make his voice work at all.
"You of all men should have known that an eternity without you was not what I wanted." He made no effort to hide the hurt in his voice.
"Francis, if only I had dared to hope..."
Their gazes held while they spoke, and Hogarth's resolve to save Ash grew stronger by the moment.
Set, realising something outside his control was occurring, growled and was across the narrow space in an instant. He made to attack Hogarth, who turned and raised his hand — amulet glinting in the dim light of the lantern — and pressed it to the centre of Set's forehead. With a hiss from the creature, the golden trinket burned into the flesh and right through to the bone.
Screaming, Set retreated, Hogarth not breaking contact until the creature fell back and crumpled to the ground, panting and growling. There seemed nothing human about it now at all.
Not losing a precious second, Hogarth dropped the amulet into his pocket and rushed to the far corner of the enclosure, where he picked up one of the iron bars he had once used to first gain entrance to the mausoleum.
Ash flinched, but Hogarth knelt before him, breaking open both shackles holding Ash's ankles in place. Then he stood and raised the tool to Ash's right wrist and wrenched that shackle open, then the left, and Ash stumbled forward.
Hogarth caught him in his arms, heard the wailing behind them change from pain to fury and half carried, half dragged Ash towards the doorway. It was nearly dawn, and a thin sliver of light fell through the gap in the stone.
"Hogarth!" howled Set. And then louder, "Hogarth!"
They heard him scrambling to stand.
Ash was panting, trying to focus his mind on nothing but the light. When they were almost there, the hold on him loosened, and he was pushed towards the narrow escape route.
"Leave, Francis," Hogarth urged. He stared at him, his face beaded with sweat and his eyes hollow. "Go and live!" He held out the amulet.
Ash had
no time to think. He acted on instinct alone when, instead of taking only the amulet, he took the proffered hand and pulled Hogarth outside with him, using all the strength he could muster.
They both stumbled outside. Ash fell to his knees when his legs, having been restrained too long, gave out at last. Hogarth sank back against the stone with an astonished expression.
"The door, professor!" Ash reached up, summoning all his remaining strength to half lean, half push against the heavy door as best he could, and Hogarth turned and pressed as hard as possible, using his whole body weight, and they managed to shut it on the thing inside.
The amulet dropped from Hogarth's palm in the effort, but Ash took it and reached up, pressing it to the stone. Hogarth's hand covered his, and he began to chant an incantation in Arabic, calling to Horus and repeating many of the phrases – unknown to Ash, who recognised them only as being old Egyptian – several times over, and a deep rumbling noise began in the stone and seemed to shake the very ground on which Ash knelt.
Dust and leaves rose off the ground around them and blew in an upward spiral around the mausoleum. The faint red glow the structure had emitted during the night flared up until the entire tomb looked to be on fire from within. Then there came a terrifying, inhuman wail of pain. And, finally, with the unnatural glow fading and leaving the stone pale and cold, there was silence.
Hogarth's voice slowly softened, and then he stopped chanting. He turned to look down at Ash, who knelt on the frosty ground, panting hard and white-faced, eyes haunted, and he sank down beside him. Hesitantly, he rested a hand on Ash's shoulder, wanting to offer comfort but knowing he had no right to do so.
He swallowed a sob when Ash moved forward and pressed against him. He wrapped both arms around him and rested his face on the disarrayed curls. His silent tears lost themselves there while they sat huddled against the tomb for what seemed like hours, indifferent to the cold.
THE END