Aset bowed her head. “But the time is right.”
I settled back on my elbows and sighed. “Which means I shall be leaving this time soon. I know I will not give birth here,” I admitted to Aset. “I dreamt of my time here once … when my Netjer-At qualities were just beginning to manifest. At the time, I did not realize it was me I was watching in the dream, but I now know I witnessed my final moments here—mourning the destruction caused by Apep, saying goodbye to Heru, disappearing …”
“This is a violent exit, then?” Aset asked.
“Yes,” I said, my voice suddenly thick with emotion. “The most violent yet. There will be much death, here.” I stared up at the muted gray sky, counting the vanishing stars and listening to the birds’ wake-up songs and the garden critters scurrying and slithering around. “I have struggled with the urge to warn them … to warn Heru. They are his people, after all. And I have come to care for a great many of them.”
“You cannot warn them of what is to come,” Aset said, touching my shoulder. She gave it a gentle squeeze before settling beside me, reclining on her elbows, her skirts mingling with mine. “However insignificant it may seem to spare even a brief human life, doing so could trigger a chain of events that could—”
“I know, I know,” I said, emotional exhaustion weighing down my words. “If a butterfly flaps its wings …”
Aset eyed me, her expression quizzical. “I am unfamiliar with this saying.”
“It is a theory—part of what is called Chaos Theory. Essentially, it claims that minute occurrences can have a major impact on major, um, things.” I offered Aset a weak smile. “Sorry, this is a terrible explanation. But anyway, the go-to example is a butterfly flapping its wings, moving the air, and that small change causing increasingly bigger changes that end up affecting the weather.” I raised my eyebrows. “Does that make any sense at all?”
Aset nodded slowly. “And it does, indeed, seem an appropriate saying for our discussion—if a butterfly flaps its wings …”
I smiled, just a little, even as I felt my heart begin to weep. Perhaps I’d been foolish letting myself get to know the ill-fated humans of this time and place, but initially, their preordained demise hadn’t disturbed me—likely because according to my internal clock, the one that was still synched with my native time far in the future, these people were already dust and bone. I’d viewed them as remnants of a past long dead, but now I saw them as living, thriving people with families and hopes and dreams for the future. A future they would never see.
“Shall I tell you of your next adventure?” Aset said, clearly aiming to derail my darkening mood. “A hint of what is to come?”
I shot her a sideways glance. “You want to flap your little butterfly wings?”
“Only gently.” She smiled mysteriously. “You, dear Lex, will be coming home.”
I perked up. “To Washington?” I knew I would return home while the twins were still babies, according to what Re had seen in the At, but I hadn’t realized it would be before I gave birth.
Aset’s brow furrowed. “I do not know of this Was-een-ton.”
“Ohhh …” I let my head fall back, feeling especially dense, and more than a little disappointed. “You mean Kemet.”
So, it looked like I would be returning to Egypt. I’d have been lying if I claimed not to be excited, even as I struggled with the disappointment of knowing I wouldn’t be returning to my true home quite yet. Egypt was my passion; it was in my blood. Hell, I’d married one of the ancient culture’s staple gods and had inadvertently become another. I thought part of me would always feel like I belonged there, in that rich, ancient land.
“Indeed I do,” Aset said. “And you should know, Lex, it will be up to you to find us this time around, so make sure you have your satchel well-supplied before you make this next jump.”
I laughed under my breath. “I will do what I can,” I promised. “This is a longer jump than usual, then?” They’d generally been a couple hundred years at a time, so far.
“It would seem that the twins’ power grows as they do—not only do they choose their final destination on safety, but on need. They will be bringing you to a place where they will be safe for the remainder of your pregnancy, and to a time when you will be needed for your final act as guardian of the timeline.”
I snorted. “I do not think I would go so far as to call me a ‘guardian’ of the timeline—perhaps ‘stumbler through’ the timeline would be more fitting.”
Aset laughed. “Perhaps.”
We were quiet for a moment, enjoying the sounds, smells, and gentle light of the nearing dawn. It was like the whole world was stretching lazily in bed, toying with the idea of waking, rising, and shining.
“Oh, and Lex?”
“Hmmm … ?”
“Do not forget your sword. You will need it.”
“Someone is coming,” Nik said quietly.
“Is it—” I started.
“Lex?” It was Heru. “Lex!”
My eyes bugged out, and I made a shooing motion at Nik and Aset, imploring them to leave, to magically find some way out besides the garden’s single door.
Nik shook his head, pointing to me and then to the door.
I nodded, understanding. If I left the garden, Heru wouldn’t have any reason to come in, and Aset in Nik’s presence would remain a mystery to the world, as it must.
Aset helped me to my feet, and after a quick, quiet embrace and a kiss blown Nik’s way, I hurried along the clearest winding path through the overgrown garden, my speed hindered slightly by my waddle. “I’m here,” I called as I neared the door. “I’m here, Heru!” I fished the key from my belt, unlocked the door, and pulled it open enough that I could squeeze through, then pulled it shut and relocked it.
When I turned around, Heru was striding through the orchard that neighbored the garden. I didn’t have a way to return the key to my belt discreetly, so I dropped it, kicking it under some overgrown weeds with the toe of my boot.
Heru wore his usual guarded mien, but I could pick up on the small nuances that hinted at anger, irritation, and frustration. “I woke, and you were gone,” he said, voice low, even. “I had no idea—no hint of where you had gone or why. What was I to think?”
“I could not sleep,” I said, brushing off the back of my dress. “And your secret garden called to me.” Hopefully he was too upset to realize his key to the garden was exactly where it should be—back in his bedchamber.
Heru’s legs devoured the few final yards separating us, and his arms swallowed me up in a desperate hug. He pressed his lips to the top of my head and breathed in and out several times. “Please, refrain from ever doing that again.”
I didn’t tell him I wouldn’t have much of a chance to do it again because I wouldn’t be there, in this time with him, much longer. I didn’t want him dreading the fast-approaching inevitable. He knew I would be leaving at some point, had to know it would be soon, but I wasn’t willing to put him in the same position as me, knowing people he cared about were going to die … knowing he could do something to keep that from happening but being unwilling to for the sake of the future he’d yet to live. I couldn’t be sure that his resolve to protect the timeline would be as steady as mine.
I smiled against the front of his leather jerkin, a small, sad smile. Maybe Aset was right. Maybe I was a guardian of the timeline. Or maybe I was just a girl trying not to screw too much up while I ricocheted through time.
“I am sorry I frightened you,” I said quietly.
Heru exhaled heavily. “Next time, you will wake me?”
My smile, hidden against the leather, turned genuine. It had taken me over two months to break this era’s Heru of the habit of ordering me around, but finally, he was learning to request from me, not to demand of me. I thought it was quite an accomplishment, considering I was still working on the same issue with the Heru of my own time.
He pulled back, leaving only his hands on my shoulders. “Let us return
, my Lex.”
I arched my back as much as the twins would let me, massaging the base of my spine with my thumbs and wishing for some modern painkillers. “Very well. I would like some tea, anyway.”
Heru made a face that spoke of disgusting things better spat out. “I do not know how you stomach that stuff. It tastes like dirt.”
I laughed. “It does not!” Raspberry leaf tea might not have been as effective as modern drugs, but it at least provided me some relief.
“It does.” Heru turned and, with an arm over my shoulders, led me back to the castle.
20
Life & Death
I woke with a start, then felt a dull tug from deep within my abdomen. I placed my hand on my belly. The twins were stretching around within me like they, too, just couldn’t get comfortable.
I felt another tug, quickly followed by a slightly nauseating flip-flopping sensation, like I was hurtling down the drop at Splash Mountain. “Shit,” I hissed. The twins sensed Apep.
I scooted to the edge of the bed and hung my feet over, pushing my upper half up off the mattress with sleep-tired arms. “Heru,” I said, standing with a groan. “Heru!”
He sat up suddenly, a dagger wielded before him like he was preparing for a backhanded throat-slit. It was a perfect example of why I got out of bed before waking him.
“He’s here.” I pointed to the far side of the room, where my sword hung on an iron hook alongside Heru’s two favorites—a massive claymore and a smaller longsword. “You might want to get ready …”
While Heru rose, I hobbled over to the wardrobe to retrieve the garments I’d spent all afternoon and evening making. With the help of one of the maidservants, Jane, I’d converted two fine linen nightgowns into simple shifts that would fit in during most ancient Egyptian periods.
I pulled my nightgown off over my head, leaving me naked for a moment, then slipped one of the shifts on in its place. A quick glance over my shoulder showed Heru standing just a few feet behind me, his longsword in its scabbard at his hip, my sword’s elaborately strapped harness in his hands, and his eyes filled with heat—either from the peep show I’d just given him or in anticipation of the battle yet to come.
“Thank you,” I said, holding out first one arm for him to fit the sword harness over, then the other. I strapped the buckle together over my chest, feeling better with the sword’s familiar weight at my back. Unlike my shift, the sword would definitely stand out to the ancient peoples I was about to see. But Aset had said I would need it, and I wasn’t about to disregard any of her warnings about my future, because it was already her past.
Remembering my dream-echo from over a year ago, and that the woman I hadn’t recognized as myself had been wearing a hooded cloak that concealed all but her protruding belly from me, I reached into the wardrobe and withdrew the heavy gray woolen cloak Heru had purchased for me in case of any colder nights. I’d yet to wear it. But I had to wear it tonight.
Draping the cloak over my elbow, I reached into the wardrobe once more and pulled out my trusty, now-worn leather satchel. The spare shift was tucked in there, along with two loaves of dense molasses bread, a small wheel of hard cheese, and a package of dried boar meat. The provisions had been added to my usual supply—a jar of “cure-all” ointment, a flint and steel set, the purse of gold coins, a small mending kit, and a stash of the tea that helped ease my pregnancy pains. I hoisted the strap over my head so it crossed my body, the bag sitting at my hip. I pulled one last item from the wardrobe—my waterskin—and slung its thin leather strap across my body as well.
Standing behind me, Heru took the cloak from my arm and settled it on my shoulders. I secured the clasp, a small, silver falcon whose talons gripped the opposite side of the fastener, and pulled the hood up. “Alright. I am ready.”
Heru knew what had to happen; I’d explained it to him already. Once Apep arrived, he had to stay as close to me as possible. It was imperative that he remain near me for the memory wipe to work. I’d also warned him that whatever happened, he couldn’t kill Set. If he did, I would never be born, and everything would be ruined.
Watching him now, seeing the tension and anxiety emanating from him, I knew he itched to be out in the castle hallways, hunting down Apep-Set. I reached up and cupped the side of his face. “Are you ready?”
There was a shout from the hallway beyond the bedchamber door, then a grunt, and then a scream, all in short succession.
Heru’s posture changed. He was ready. “I fear we have little choice.”
“Can you tell where he is?” I wanted to get the jump through time over with. The tugs from within were increasing, bringing with them nausea and painful, almost throbbing cramps. I rubbed my hands on either side of my bulging belly, hoping to soothe the twins and calm their fretful movements.
Heru was quiet for a moment, his head cocked to the side as he listened. I could hear movement out in the hallway and beyond, but which belonged to Apep-Set, the men he’d brought with him, or the castle servants and guards—the only people who’d remained once Heru sent all of the Nejerets away shortly after I arrived—I couldn’t tell. I didn’t know this castle nearly as well as Heru, and the stone walls could be tricky with the way sound bounced and rebounded off their uneven surfaces.
“The great hall,” Heru said, barely loud enough for me to hear. He drew his sword, then grabbed my hand. “Come.”
Instead of heading out the bedchamber door, Heru gripped the edge of the wardrobe and, straining, dragged it open like a door. Which, as it turned out, was exactly what it was.
Unbeknownst to me, the entrance to another hidden passageway had been concealed behind the sturdy wooden wardrobe I’d stored my things in these past three months. The passageway succumbed to a hungry darkness completely devoid of light—so dark that even my heightened Nejerette vision wouldn’t do me any good.
“Do not let go,” Heru said, taking a step and pulling me along behind him. Together, we plunged into the darkness.
It quickly became apparent that Heru had the passageway memorized, because he guided me around corners and over dips in the floor and down a narrow, steep flight of stairs with gentle hands and the barest of whispers. Faster than I’d expected, we reached a tapestry hanging along the side of the great hall.
Heru peeked through the crack before turning back to me and bringing his mouth to my ear. “Stay here,” he breathed, “and remain silent.”
I nodded, strands of my hair catching in his stubble.
He pressed his lips to my cheek, and then he was gone, through the opening and out from behind the tapestry with barely a sound. There was a masculine shout—not Heru’s—followed by a thump and a grunt. Not Apep-Set, but one of his followers was out there, putting up an admirable fight.
I heard a guttural gasp, then a sharp crack and the thud of a body hitting the floor. Not a second later, Heru stuck his arm behind the tapestry. Apparently not that admirable.
I placed my hand in Heru’s, letting him pull me out into the cavernous great hall. He nodded toward the open doorway at the far end, not asking me if we should go that way, merely alerting me to his plan before dragging me along behind him.
We crossed the great hall without detection and slipped out into the broad, arched stone hallway beyond. Narrow, glassless windows lined the opposite side of the hall, letting in a cool breeze along with the silvery moonlight. The square of light coming through the nearest window illuminated a scene from a horror movie—one of the guardsman, his eyes open and sightless, a deep gash cutting across his throat.
I looked up, away, anywhere but at the dead guardsman, at the accusation—the blame—filling his glazed stare. You could’ve saved me!
My eyes landed on a second body further down the corridor … then on another, and another.
My fault, all of these pointless deaths. I could’ve prevented them, warned them—done something.
I could have saved them. These people—they were all dead because of my choice. My silence.
It didn’t matter that it had all been for some greater good. I might as well have killed them with my own two hands.
Unable to face the truth, I turned to Heru. Anger was written all over his face, the hunger for revenge lighting his moon-silvered eyes. “Do not kill him,” I mouthed.
His jaw clenched, but he nodded. Once more, he brought his lips to a hairsbreadth from my ear. “Perhaps you should say something. Draw him out …”
I nodded, pulling away. It was always the same, and always different. “No matter how many times we go through this, it always feels too quick,” I whispered.
“Louder,” Heru mouthed.
I said the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t know how he keeps finding me.” I hoped Apep would do just that—find me, already. The longer we dragged it out, the more people would die. I wanted it done. I arched my eyebrows higher in a silent question—loud enough?
Heru’s eyes narrowed as he listened. He nodded slowly, pointing down the hallway, the way we’d come. Apep-Set had heard, and he was heading our way.
I felt a very distinct cramp deep within my abdomen. It looked like the twins sensed his approach as well.
Unable to resist—unwilling to forget—I turned back toward the slaughter. Before I left, I needed to see what my inaction had caused. I owed these precious people that much.
My eyes landed on a pretty, dark-haired woman. Her burgundy and gold livery was askew, revealing her wool stockings, and her neck was bent at an unnatural angle.
A harsh sob clawed up my throat as I rushed forward and, hand on the rough stone wall, knelt beside the dead woman. “Oh, God … Jane.” My shoulders shook as grief and guilt overwhelmed me. I’d tried so hard to convince myself that these people were already dead—thousand-year corpses, to my twenty-first-century mind—but seeing them here, this woman who’d become my friend, proved just how wrong I’d been.
Maybe it would’ve warped the timeline. Maybe it would’ve screwed everything up and made all of the struggle worthless. Maybe it would’ve destroyed ma’at completely and caused the universe to unravel, killing us all.
Ricochet Through Time (Echo Trilogy Book 3) Page 15