Anput placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “He loves her, husband. They have a unique bond. Think how they could both serve us in the world of the living.”
Anubis grunted and rubbed his jaw. “There is potential in what you say, wife. Let this one be judged. If she is worthy, she may choose between the Aaru or being restored alive to the earthly realm.”
Hannah placed her hands on either side of Wycliff’s face and stared into his amber eyes. “I will do this. You and Mother need to return to Papa. He cannot lose us all.” She swallowed her fears as pictures flowed through her of all that could have been and now never would. Only a few moments ago she had plucked out Dupré’s heart as anger rolled through her veins. Those actions would stain her soul. If she were judged unworthy, then so be it. She would have an eternity in the void to contemplate her mistakes.
Wycliff rested his face against hers. “You are worthy, Hannah, and we will return together.”
Seraphina cast her daughter a worried glance. “Are you sure?”
Hannah kissed Wycliff’s nose and then hugged her mother. “Seeing you again, as you once were, makes everything worthwhile.”
Seraphina lowered the shield and kissed Hannah’s forehead. Then, with slow steps, Hannah walked to Anput. The goddess pressed her hand to Hannah’s chest. She couldn’t look and kept her gaze fixed on Wycliff. A hollow feeling swirled inside her as the goddess pulled free her heart and carried it to the scales. Hannah dropped to her knees and flung her arms around Wycliff’s neck. If Ammit ate her heart, at least the last thing Hannah touched would be Wycliff.
The scales made a faint ting as they tipped one way and then another. Hannah buried her face in her husband’s fur, unable to watch as her crimes were counted against her. Seconds passed. Would Ammit take her quickly in one snap, or draw it out like she had with the mage?
“You are as worthy, Hannah, as I knew you to be,” Wycliff murmured in her ear.
Bravery failed her. Hannah peered through his fur and glanced at the scales. Sure enough, her heart sat in perfect balance with the feather. She gulped in relief and tears of joy misted her vision. “We can all go home.”
Anput plucked Hannah’s heart from the pan and returned it to her chest. Then she walked to Anubis’ side. “Do they not remind you of us, husband? As the hound is your servant upon the earth, so his wife could be mine. They are the balance the living realm needs—one to find foul souls to feed to Ammit, the other to help the worthy to the golden path of Aaru.”
“A most excellent idea, wife.” Anubis waved his hand, and the assembled people clapped and cheered.
Anput removed a chain from around her neck, from which dangled an ankh. She placed the necklace over Hannah’s head. The gold warmed against her skin and a slow tingle ran through her body. “This will allow you to travel the realms with the hound. When you return to your physical form, touch the ankh and say these words to restart your heart.” The goddess whispered a phrase in Hannah’s ear in an unknown tongue. The words swirled through her and took up residence deep inside her.
Ma’at approached and removed a golden bracelet from her arm. She snapped it around Hannah’s left wrist. “This will allow you to reach into this realm and hold my scales.”
Seraphina hugged Hannah. “At least we have you restored, even if we cannot free the others trapped in the curse.”
“Trapped,” Hannah whispered the word. The weight in her pocket reminded her of the pieces of glass. She drew out the objects and cupped them in her hands. “I found these on our walk here. Each called to me in a different voice. This one”—Hannah held up the larger, clear piece—“reminds me of you. The pinkish one calls to mind Miss Knightley.”
Seraphina took the bigger lump from Hannah’s palm. A wisp swirled around and around, creating a soft ball of pure white. “There is something trapped within that hums a tune that resonates through me.”
Anput took the rose-coloured one and cupped it in her palms. She closed her eyes and bent her head over the object for a moment, then nodded. “Our servant is right. This rock contains a ka. The curse the evil one cast trapped the divine spark within.”
“Can I return this to the person it belongs to?” Hannah glanced at her mother as she asked the question.
“Yes. Touch this to the person’s heart and the ka will be free to nourish the physical form once more,” Anput said.
Wycliff grumbled. “More work to do, and now we have drawn Hannah into this.”
Anput wagged a finger at Wycliff. “When you have freed the ka, you will have your reward for your service, hound.”
“What does that mean?” Wycliff stayed by Hannah’s side.
Anput held the pinkish crystal to the light, the spark within doing a slow rotation. “Once the ka is freed, it will no longer have a use for its prison. You may have the rock that trapped it.”
The hound blew out a long sigh, and Hannah bit her lip. She could well imagine Wycliff’s private thoughts at being told he would be rewarded with a brightly coloured piece of glass. While a monetary reward would go a long way toward restoring Mireworth, it lightened Hannah’s heart to know that at least two of the Afflicted would be free of that aspect of the curse that saw them rot.
That line of thought left her with more questions. “With the ka once more able to nourish their forms, does that mean they will no longer require the other form of sustenance?”
“As long as the ka journeys to the Duat to energise itself here and returns to the khat, they will not require anything else.” Anput placed the object back in Hannah’s palm.
“You will be restored, shadow mage, once your daughter releases your ka to you in the living realm,” Anubis added.
Joy flowed through Hannah. Her mother would no longer rot. Then she thought through the wider implications. There were possibly some three hundred Afflicted, and she held the ka of only two. “I need to find the others.”
“This is your gift, Hannah. You can sense the magic the curse used to trap their ka here in the Duat. That part of our soul must be taken prisoner in the days between when we die and arise as the Afflicted.” Her mother cupped her face and placed a kiss on her forehead.
Even with her ability to sense magic in use, the idea of finding so many stones in the land of Duat was akin to finding a particular grain of sand on a beach. It might take her years to locate them all. “But we cannot stay too long here to find them. What of Papa?”
“You may return to the Duat as you need, or when we require you, so long as you walk the path with the hound.” Anubis stalked back to his throne and seated himself. He waved his hand and the weighing of the hearts resumed.
Hannah made a decision. “We will search for the rest of the afternoon, then return to Papa.”
They spent a few hours searching the land between temple and river. Back and forth they paced, Hannah halting when a tingle raced over her skin and Wycliff digging in the dirt. As Osiris completed his journey across the sky, she clutched a basket filled with a kaleidoscope of coloured glass, each in a different hue, all containing a trapped ka.
“Let’s go home,” Hannah whispered.
24
They returned the same way they’d arrived, back across the river to the inky doorway. Wycliff clutched the handle of the basket in his jaws. Hannah curled one hand in Wycliff’s fur as they stepped within, the other gripping Seraphina’s hand. Eventually, the darkness of the void gave way to the velvet of night. The lanterns were bright spots around the glade. Sir Hugh cradled his wife in his arms in the bower. Timmy sat vigil beside Hannah’s form.
Wycliff placed the basket on the ground beside her body.
“Wycliff! Are they with you?” Sir Hugh called.
“Yes. We have all returned,” Wycliff replied.
The surgeon sobbed his gratitude.
Hannah was staring at her body, wondering what to do next, when a gentle tugging pulled her down until she hovered above her form. Her soul eased back into her physical remains. The necklace a
round her neck glowed brightly as the parts of her were brought together. Hannah rubbed at the spot where the ankh rested against her skin and whispered the words Anput had murmured in her ear. A single vibration boomed through her and she sat up with a gasp as air whooshed back into her lungs.
“She’s back!” the lad cried.
Wycliff shook himself free of the hound and kissed her. As he pulled back, worry tugged at his eyes. “Did Anubis keep his promise?”
Hannah held out her right arm to Timmy. “Am I alive or dead, Timmy?”
The brave lad swallowed and took her arm. His fingers gripped her wrist and his eyes widened in wonder. “You’re alive.”
“Alive? Is it true? Did you find a cure?” Sir Hugh asked.
Seraphina stirred in his arms as her soul settled back inside her.
“Of sorts.” Hannah plucked the clear chunk of glass from the basket and approached her mother.
Sir Hugh helped his wife to sit up. Hannah placed the crystal over her mother’s heart. Light burst from the stone and burrowed into her mother’s skin.
Seraphina raised her veil and before their eyes, her mother’s complexion, its flesh and eyes already restored, returned to its sun-kissed warmth.
“Sera,” Sir Hugh sobbed his wife’s name.
“That’s not the only remarkable thing.” Seraphina lifted the hem of her gown and wiggled her toes.
“Your legs!” Timmy exclaimed.
Joy rushed through Hannah. Her mother might still be dead, but she would dance with her father again. The crystal cooled in her fingers. Without the spark of the divine, it returned to a clear state. When light from the lantern struck it, rainbows burst across the glade.
A laugh erupted from Seraphina. “Do you know what you hold, Hannah?”
She held it up. On close inspection, it did hold a remarkable array of reflections inside it.
“While I am not the expert my dear friend Kitty is regarding these matters, I believe, dear Hannah, that you are holding a diamond,” her mother said as she pulled up her gown to let her husband examine her legs.
“The crystals turn to gems when the ka is freed?” Hannah’s jaw dropped as she stared from the basket, to the object in her hand, to Wycliff’s chiselled features.
His eyes widened, then he too burst into laughter. “Anput did say we would be rewarded for our service. For once, events might have gone in our favour. If these do indeed turn into precious gems, then we will be handsomely rewarded for our endeavours.”
Hannah burst into tears and flung her arms around Wycliff’s neck. Then she kissed her husband most soundly. They had travelled to the underworld and back, and now had their entire lives before them.
The next day, Seraphina settled herself in the bathchair and dropped the veil over her face. After days of bickering among themselves, the mage council had finally agreed to meet her. The council occupied a stout, round building on the outskirts of London. Magic prickled around her as each new mage added their own touch to the structure.
“Ready, my love?” Hugh asked her, a hand on her shoulder.
She tilted her cheek to his hand. “Yes. Let us set the cat among the pigeons.”
Hugh grasped the iron rings and pulled, opening the heavy double doors.
Lady Miles wheeled her chair into the opulent chamber. England’s mages met in a room more fit for a sultan’s palace. Soft orange silks draped the walls. Around the edges of the room, sofas in forest green were piled with vibrant blue cushions.
A round table dominated the centre of the room, inset with a mosaic of blues, creams, and sage green. Within that was a clock face ten feet across. Twelve high-backed chairs encircled the table, each sitting at a point on the clock. Only six chairs were occupied. Three mages had yet to reach their majority. Of those three, two served their apprenticeships to another mage and one, the child who had inherited Seraphina’s living powers, would live a normal childhood until the age of five. Three other adult mages were in far-flung corners of England and hadn’t returned for the meeting.
Lord Pendlebury, the oldest mage and therefore the council’s Speaker, nodded from his chair. “Lady Miles, you wish to address this council.”
She wheeled herself closer. Some of the mages angled their chairs toward her. Mage Tomlin narrowed his gaze and his lips thinned to mere lines, like those of a petulant child.
“I once sat amongst you,” she began.
“And now you should be six feet under,” Tomlin muttered under his breath.
The man’s horrid temper knew no bounds. Seraphina would enjoy putting him in his place. “Then a curse crafted during the war stole my life and that of some three hundred others. We were rendered undead, and rot stole along our limbs.”
“The Affliction is a terrible curse that cannot be undone. This council and all of England grow concerned over what is required to sustain your existence. What is needed for a few cannot be outweighed by the concerns of the many. A permanent solution must be found,” Lord Gresham said.
The others muttered in agreement.
Seraphina smiled, not that they could see it under the veil. “I agree. How fortuitous that I have returned from a journey to the underworld and have brought back a cure. My daughter and Lord Wycliff will visit each of the Afflicted to dispense it. Some of them may decide to remain undead, but I can assure you, gentlemen, those Afflicted will no longer rot, nor will they need any sustenance.”
A gasp went around the room as the mages digested her meaning.
“They will neither rot nor require any form of sustenance?” Lord Gresham clarified.
“They will not. That should put an end to this needless panic.” She rested her hands in her lap.
“The Afflicted will become immortal?” Lord Pendlebury leaned forward in his chair and a bright light lit his eyes.
Seraphina shrugged. Funny how men showed keener interest once they realised immortality was at play. “I do not know for certain. Ask me that question again in a hundred years.”
“If this is true, we will be able to reassure the population that any harm you pose has now passed,” Lord Pendlebury said.
“It should also put an end to the horrible burnings of the Afflicted by mage fire. I hear the arsonist became a victim of his master’s potion.” She stared at Tomlin.
“Are you trying to imply something?” he hissed at her.
She grinned behind her veil. “I’m sorry, was that too subtle for you, Tomlin? I am well aware that yours is the hand controlling these events, and that you set out to expunge my fellow Afflicted from this earth.” Her voice hardened. “Call off your dogs, or I will unleash my hound.” She didn’t bluff or threaten. Wycliff would enjoy pulling the mage’s soul free of his body.
Tomlin pushed back his chair and slammed his fists on the table. “I will not listen to the rantings of a dead thing. You have no proof and your presence is an offence to this council.”
Seraphina stared at the man who had once been much in favour at court. “Justice may be delayed, but she will never be denied, Tomlin. No matter how powerful you think you are, you cannot escape death. The day will come when you step from this realm and into mine and I promise you, I shall be waiting. I wonder if your heart will be as rotten as that of Dupré.”
“Dupré? You have seen him?” Lord Pendlebury asked.
She nodded. “He was hunted down in the afterlife, his heart torn from his soul form and fed to Ammit the Eater of Hearts and Devourer of the Dead. How he screamed as he pled for mercy.”
Seraphina raised her veil and the men before her gasped. She had the exquisite pleasure of an unobstructed view as the colour drained from Tomlin’s face. Let him spend every day of the rest of his life in the futile search of a way to escape her reach.
Then she stood. The men before her pushed back their chairs, excited chatter breaking out among them as the legs her husband had once had to remove appeared, fully restored. She chuckled to think how they were so easily fooled. While she sat in the chair, she ha
d dangled her legs in the underworld until she needed them. She had latched on to the idea after seeing how Wycliff disappeared when he placed a large paw on the black path. All she had to do was open a path beneath her chair.
Tomlin leapt to his feet and gestured to her. “See! She is an evil thing! We must burn her before her evil infects all of us.”
“Ah. Burn the witch. Long has that been the rallying cry of ignorant, frightened men.” Seraphina walked around the table. As she moved, she changed her plain linen shift into a gown of vibrant green and sapphire-blue that swirled into peacock feathers.
“Events are somewhat extraordinary, Lady Miles. Surely you can understand our concern that you have retained your power after death and have now regrown your legs,” Lord Pendlebury said.
“As I said, the cure will restore the Afflicted.” She paused at the chair where once she had sat. A peacock was carved in its high back. With a finger, she traced a wooden feather with the eye in its centre. “Over the centuries, we have lost our way. Once, we embraced two types of magic. Now you practise only one, and are afraid of the other. You wield magic from the living realm. I am the embodiment of the magic that dwells in the afterlife.”
“You tapped into something evil,” Tomlin snapped, but he was hushed by the mage beside him.
“Darkness is not evil. Just as light is not necessarily good. Everything must be in balance. Light and dark. Life and death. I am a shadow mage. You must set another chair at the table, gentlemen. England has twelve living mages and one dead one. A shadow mage will sit amongst you…again.” She carried on walking her circuit around the table.
“Again?” Lord Gresham repeated.
“I suggest you scour the mage records. A shadow mage called Kemsit came to these shores in the twelfth century and she was not the first to tread English soil.” Seraphina smiled and brought her hands together over her stomach. The men before her had much to learn, and with her intervention, the next generation of mages would be far more enlightened.
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