Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt) (9 page)

“Why would Horus send us here, if it’s so deadly?” he asked out loud, hoping the sound of his own voice might help him stay alert.
 

Words rang in his head, crisp disembodied voices full of concern:

Horus is a god of the sky, not the underworld.

He wished you to be safe from those who hunt you in the outer world.

He may not realize how the soul-sustaining energy here affects the living.

This corner of the Afterlife is not meant for your kind.

“Yeah, I understand we shouldn’t be here.” Kamin shook his head, trying to shatter the dazed feeling, bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. Spiking through his head, the tiny pain jangled him into action, ordering himself to keep moving. He glanced at Nima, now totally unconscious in his arms, her chest barely rising and falling with shallow breaths. Raising his eyes, he estimated the remaining distance to the portal. Surely it was closer. “If we don’t get out of here, the Hyksos win, their evil god wins. And I’m not going to let her die.”

There was no answer. The gazelles stayed with him, which was encouraging. Barely conscious now, Kamin trudged forward, stopping for ever-lengthening periods of time, before his four-legged companions nudged him into motion. The tunnel opening loomed larger and larger. He passed the lake.
Grind out a few more steps, last another few moments
.
Count ten steps then ten more, keep moving.

He crashed to his knees, Nima sprawling onto the soft grass. Head spinning, Kamin fought to stay conscious. He braced his upper body on his fisted hands, which sank deep into the lush grass and the cool, black earth underneath. Nima rolled over and moaned in her sleep, cloak falling partway open to reveal a tantalizing amount of her lush body. Bending low, he kissed her cheek before rearranging the cloak with clumsy fingers to cover her. One more time he got himself to his feet and lifted her, struggling forward, so tired he moved in zigzags, but generally in the right direction.

One by one the gazelles wandered away, until only two remained, bracing his body like oversized guard dogs. He felt the difference under his bare feet as he stepped onto the hard surface of the tunnel floor. The pressure from the gazelles stopped as the last pair left him, pausing short of the passage out of the underworld. He collapsed, managing to cushion Nima’s fall by rolling sideways as his consciousness ebbed away.
I made it to the damn tunnel. Why aren’t we reviving?
Unable to do more than breathe, utterly spent, he rolled over, eyes fixed on the cracked stone ceiling.
A few minutes to recuperate then I’ll get us up.
He fumbled blindly in the darkness for Nima. Sliding his palm along the smooth skin of her arm until he reached her hand, he linked his fingers with hers and allowed his heavy eyelids to close.

Chapter Four

Sun glaring through his closed eyelids and the hard surface under his increasingly aching back woke him.
This is the most unforgiving mattress I’ve ever
 
slept on.
Nima’s soft hair spread across his arm, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, squinting against the sunlight, Kamin grunted and moved her limp body enough to be able to sit up himself. Head spinning, he worked his way from the prone position.

They were outside, in the middle of the painted terrace, their packs lying to the side.

“How in the name of the gods did we get here?”
The last thing I remember is collapsing right inside the tunnel. Maybe one of the gods took pity on us, sent the ushabti to carry us the rest of the way to safety? Since I managed to nearly get us out of there?

Wind blew gently across the ruins surrounding them on all sides. Realizing how exposed they were should the Hyksos be anywhere in the vicinity, Kamin shook Nima. Finally, he lifted her to a sitting position against him. “Nima, wake up. We’ve got to move.”

Her eyelids fluttered open for a second then drifted shut again. He took the water skin, now replenished, and put it to her lips. “Drink some water. Time to stop dreaming.”

She gave a quiet moan of protest but sat up on her own. After her first few sips, her eyes widened, and she turned slowly one way then the other, water forgotten. “Kamin—”

“What do you remember?”
 
Taking the container from her hand, he gulped cool liquid.

“Something about a lake. And deer—no,” she corrected herself. “A herd of gazelles. Was it a dream?” She fingered her clean blue dress, though he had no memory of her putting clothes back on.

Reaching out , Kamin plucked the purple and pink flower from her hair, handing it to her. “No dream.” He stood up. “I think we were lucky to survive.”

Still sniffing the flower’s fading perfume, she clasped the hand he stretched out to help her and came to her feet. “You kissed me. I remember now.”

“I want to do it again.” He pulled her close. She came into his embrace easily, pressing herself to him, raising her face for his kiss. Keeping the caress light, a brief meeting of the lips, he ignored the surge of arousal sweeping through his body. He took her hands and kissed the palms lightly before releasing her and stepping away. “But now is not the time or the place.”

She put her arms by her sides. “I can’t argue. My spine is tingling. I’m expecting the pain of an arrow striking home any moment.” Shivering, she raised her eyes to the rim of the tiny hollow in which the ancient temple lay in ruins. “We’d be easy to capture here.”

He was belting his sword on. “Agreed. We need to move out.”

“Why is this pack so heavy?” Nima opened the flap, peering at the contents inside. Reaching in, she brought out a plum as big as his fist and showed it to him. “The bag is full of fruit from—from
there
. Do you think we dare eat it?”

Hands on his hips, Kamin blew out his breath then shook his head at the glowing purple fruit.
 
“I don’t know. I’ve been told if you eat anything in the underworld, you won’t be able to leave. Water is fine because it flows between here and there, but not food.”

“But we have left. You rescued us.
 
We’re in our proper place, our world.” Nima stamped one foot on the dusty pavement for emphasis. “Surely whoever or whatever loaded this bounty into our pack didn’t mean us any harm.”

“Horus didn’t mean us any harm, but he sent us to shelter in a place where we would’ve been trapped in eternal sleep. Or worse.” Hating to disappoint her, Kamin nonetheless took the pack and set it on the ground. “Even though I’m guessing the servants of the gods must have given us these gifts, I say we leave all of it here, as an offering to the spirits of this old temple.
 
A token of our thanks for sheltering us.” He pointed at the blossom in her hand. “That as well.”

She did as he requested, laying the flower on top of the leather pack. Within moments, the petals shriveled and faded, decaying as they watched. Nima glanced around the ruins, rubbing her arms as if chilled. “I really want to be away from this place.”

“No argument from me,” Kamin said. He held out his hand, and as soon as she clasped his fingers, he led her off the frescoed terrace by the shortest route.

Making quick work of the hike to the lip of the bowl-shaped depression, Kamin stopped in his tracks so suddenly Nima bumped into him. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

She stepped around him since he made no move to prevent her and came to a sliding halt herself. The sandy soil was crisscrossed with tracks—men, horses, chariot wheels. Kamin walked closer, kneeling to check the imprints. “Hyksos all right. Their wheels are built differently than ours, wider.” He stood, dusting his hands. “But these tracks are at least two days old, judging by the condition of the horse dung.”

“Two days?” Mouth open, she gaped at the large area the enemy had occupied. “But when we arrived here yesterday, there were no tracks.”

Kamin retrieved the pack. “I think we were in that corner of the Afterlife longer than we realized. Horus’s plan worked to the extent the Hyksos obviously didn’t find us. But now they’re somewhere ahead of us on the route to the Nile, and we’ll have to be even more careful.”

“I wish they didn’t want to recapture us so badly,” she said as they hiked through the churned-up ground and struck off to the east. “This trip is full of enough perils without those jackals breathing down our necks every moment.”

“On the positive side, it shows how important my information must be,” Kamin said. “All the more reason we have to make good time and get to the nomarch as soon as we can.”

***

They spent the day sheltered behind a small rock formation at the foot of a great sand dune. It wasn’t a secure location, and neither could settle in to rest. By midafternoon they’d mutually agreed remaining was a waste of time, and they marched into the desert, still bearing east.

Hours later, Nima toiled up the rise in front of her and stumbled to a halt, grateful for a sunset breeze brushing the sand. Beside her, Kamin was staring into the shimmering distance, his face set in unhappy lines. Following the direction of his gaze, shielding her eyes with one hand, Nima said, “What is that?”

“A caravan. We’ve come to one of the major north-south caravan routes.”

She turned to him in surprise. “You don’t sound pleased. Can’t we blend in with them, travel with them?”

“Caravan masters want to be paid for providing transport and safety.” He frowned at her. “Not only do we not have anything to buy our passage with, the Hyksos are probably still chasing us and they do have gold to buy friends, informants and allies. Best we wait for this caravan to pass and then go on our way.”

“Too late. I think we’ve been spotted.” Nima pointed at the road, where a small group of men on horseback had broken away from the long column, galloping toward them in a cloud of dust.

“Set’s teeth, just what we don’t need. Stay close and let me do the talking.” Drawing his sword, Kamin pulled her closer, shielding her as best he could while the men rode up and encircled them.
 

“What do we have here?” asked the lead rider, staring at them while his horse tossed its head, chomping on the bit.
 

“Travelers, like you,” Kamin answered neutrally. “We’re waiting for your caravan to pass, and then we’ll be on our way.”

Chewing on a carved sliver of ivory clenched in his remaining teeth, the man studied them, while his companions waited in silence. “You travel lightly.” He waved one arm in a broad gesture, tassels on the horse’s reins dancing in the breeze. “And the desert is vast.”

“We’ll be fine, thank you.” Kamin kept his eyes locked on the leader. “No need to tarry on our account.”

The caravan crew member took the sliver of ivory out of his mouth, picking thoughtfully at his gums for a moment. “What kind of a host would my master be, allowing you to trudge through the sand when you could travel with us in comfort?” The words were kind, but the voice was mocking. “He bid me fetch you.”

“We don’t travel in the direction you’re going.” Jaw set, Kamin hefted the sword, raising it in a
 
threatening gesture. “Our road lies to the east.”

“Sit by our fire this evening at least.” The persistent rider gestured to the road in the distance. “We’re making camp now, at the well here.”

Nima could tell Kamin was annoyed, as his voice got deeper and his words even more clipped each time he replied to a comment. “We’ve no gold to pay for the privilege.”

“Have I asked for payment?” Making a mock bow over his patient horse’s neck, the other man spoke again. “My master insists. A caravan wins favor in our gods’ eyes when we help a struggling traveler.” The dark eyes stared boldly at Nima. “And his woman.”

Kamin put his free arm around Nima’s waist. “Exactly.
My
woman.” He ignored her surprised, sideways glance. “I tell you again, we’ve no desire to join your campfire, this night or any other.”

“But we are many and you are only one, warrior.” The threat was clear. The other riders crowded in more closely, the loose circle becoming the unmistakable jaws of a trap. The man grinned. “Put away your sword and accept our kind invitation.”

Grabbed without warning by a pair of stout arms, Nima was torn from Kamin, lifted into the air, landing on the saddle with a thud, and held close to the caravan rider who’d snatched her, the smell of his sweat and musk an unpleasant aroma. She cursed him in Egyptian and several other languages, trying to pry his arm away from her waist as he laughed and wheeled the half-rearing horse in a grand gesture that made her dizzy. The ground was frighteningly far away from a horse’s back. Her captor set his steed racing for the caravan road. Hands locked around the raised front of the elaborate saddle, she turned her head once, worried for Kamin. The rider’s flying robes blocked her view. The horse’s rapid motion across the ground gave her vertigo, so Nima squeezed her eyes shut and prayed to whichever Great Ones might be listening

The caravan was spread out around the large stone wellhead. Men were unloading weary, protesting camels and donkeys. Gaily striped tents were being raised. All manner of people bustled around. The workers stopped their activity, eyeing Nima curiously as she was carried through the chaos to the largest tent. Checking his horse in another showy move, the rider handed her down, where she was enfolded in someone else’s grasp the moment her feet touched the ground and hustled into the tent.