Reunited

  “Agreed.”

  We trudged ahead through the jungle. Sweat trickled from my temples down to my neck. I swiped at it distractedly. When the trail ahead dead-ended, Ahmose murmured a spell and a wicked pair of golden machetes materialized in his hands. He cut away the undergrowth so we could pass, but as soon as we did, the jungle knit itself back together behind us. Apparently, getting out was going to be just as hard as getting in.

  Despite the heat, the power of the sphinx gave me energy to burn and the ability to regulate my temperature. I could have hiked through the jungle for hours without tiring. Ahmose was a different story. To distract both of us, I asked Ahmose, “What does it mean when a path is broken?”

  “A broken path is an aberration. It’s unnatural. Every object in the cosmos has a path that begins at the Waters of Chaos and spreads out from there. A broken path means something has physically damaged or moved that object before it reached a natural end.”

  “You mean like Seth unmaking something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why this island was hidden? It’s been unmade?”

  “No. Seth hasn’t touched this island. If he had, it wouldn’t exist at all.” Ahmose rubbed his jaw, the machete barely missing his jugular. “From what I can gather, I’d say that this island predates Seth.”

  “Interesting. So it’s like Apep.”

  “Apep?”

  “Yes. He’s broken, too. Part of him was split away. He doesn’t know what did it, but he longs to be reunited with his other half,” I said as I shoved aside a thick green leaf and stepped through the hole Ahmose had just made. “The part we see is the hungry part. The sad thing is, it doesn’t matter how many ghosts he eats, he’ll never be full. Not until he’s put back together.”

  Ahmose lifted his weapon and struck. A thick, leafy vine fell at his feet. “Apep by himself is bad enough. I’d hate to encounter his other half, too,” he said, clearing the way for me to follow.

  “Yeah.”

  I asked if I could help, but Ahmose shook his head stubbornly. He made sure I stood back far enough that his blades couldn’t reach me by accident. Following behind gave me the opportunity to admire his sculpted back and arms. His muscles weren’t the result of protein bars and a gym like most of the brawny boys I knew. Hard labor and actual battle had fashioned Ahmose.

  I could see it in every swing of his arm, the angle of his weapon, and the stance he took as he faced his foe—in this case, a thick copse of undergrowth. The hard body that glistened with sweat wasn’t meant to impress women or the guy on the weight bench next to him or to get him a minor role in an even more minor film. Ahmose had earned every inch of sinew. Watching him in action was like watching Hercules in his labors. I didn’t just admire the view; I admired him. And, what’s more, I respected him. Ahmose was simply breathtaking. My two inner voices agreed with me.

  We moved ahead for an hour and then another and another. The jungle was hot, and my skin grew feverish and sticky. I was thinking about my jetted tub back in New York when Ahmose stopped and leaned over panting. He was clearly exhausted but still doggedly refused to let me assist. I was pondering the stupidity of not having brought a canteen along when he stood up and froze. His eyes were glued to something over my shoulder.

  I spun around, but at first I couldn’t see what had captured his attention. All I noticed was a tree. At least, I thought it was the trunk of a tree. Upon closer inspection, I found it was a thick post with an intricately carved face. Torn fabric floated around it like ghostly apparel, and strings of seashell necklaces hung around the indentation where a neck should be.

  “What is it?” I asked, my breath hot against my sweaty arm as I swiped my face. I stepped up to examine it.

  “A totem. It’s a warning. If we cross, we acknowledge that our lives are in peril.”

  “That sounds just about perfect,” I said matter-of-factly. “Bad enough a snake lives here who wants to munch on us for breakfast.”

  Ahmose moved up behind me and studied the carving. Without even consulting me, he stepped boldly past it and said, “I don’t think we should worry about it too much.”

  Something shifted. I reached out and yanked his arm to stop him in his tracks. “Are ye spinnin’ blatherskite, my ’andsome boy?” I put my hands on my hips. “Don’tcha think we oughta be jes’ a wee bit careful?”

  Ahmose came back to my side of the totem, which made me sigh in relief, and took hold of my shoulders, peering into my eyes. “Ashleigh?”

  “Aye?” I answered with a saucy grin.

  “Where’s Lily?”

  “She’s right here. But Lily’s a more trustin’ sort than I am. I thought it best ta make sure ya know what yer about before ya go off prancin’ around in a haunted jungle.”

  “Are you saying you don’t trust me?” A wicked gleam twinkled in his eyes.

  Heat rose in the space dividing our bodies, and though he didn’t move, I could have sworn that the distance closed between us. I lifted my hands to shrug him off but ended up pressing my hands against him instead. As I became aware of the contours of his chest, all thoughts of my aches and pains melted away like snow in the desert. Good heavens, his body could have been carved from stone. “Ach, now,” I said, trying to engage my brain cells. “Trust goes two ways. I’d think ya might be showin’ me a little bit o’ gratitude for pullin’ ya back from the brink.”

  He lifted a hand from my shoulder and captured a strand of hair between his glowing fingers, changing the color to a gleaming silver. “And just how should I be showing my gratitude, Ash?”

  “I’m sure I could come up with somethin’ if I gave my mind over to it,” I said with a grin. I tilted my face up for a kiss. His breath hitched, and I closed my eyes and waited for it, but the kiss never came. I cracked open my eyes, my brows knit together in confusion, and his expression was one of regret coupled with his familiar obstinacy.

  “In our case, Ash, trust is a four-way street. Six if you count my brothers. And to save my pride, I’d rather leave them out of the equation. I won’t take advantage of Lily and Tia in that way.”

  I punched his chest, fiery temper flowing through my veins, heating up my already overheated body. “Yer a wicked lad, ya are!” I shouted. “I will…”

  My words were cut off as Ahmose pressed his lips against mine. He pulled me so tightly against his body that his warmth enveloped me and a seeming volcano erupted between us. His heartbeat merged with mine until they sounded like wild, pounding jungle drums. When he angled his head, a little moan escaped me, and I was no longer Tia or Ashleigh or Lily. I was just a girl being kissed by a boy she loved. His hands were at my waist, then at my neck, then knotting in my hair, loosening my braid.

  By the time we broke apart, all I could do was look into his gray eyes full of stormy passion and try to breathe. He kissed my damp forehead sweetly. “Now stop teasing me, woman, else I’ll have to kiss you until you’re senseless enough not to argue with me anymore. And not one more word from any of you about how you’d rather kiss Asten or Amon. I may be on the quiet side, but I’m a jealous type.” He took my hand and led me past the totem.

  An hour later, we were crouched down in the undergrowth, peering at a small village. When a very short person emerged from a hut wearing nothing but a skirt of leaves to cover himself, Ashleigh whispered excitedly, using my voice, “It’s one o’ the wee folk!”

  No, I said to her mentally. I don’t think it’s a leprechaun. Do you see any pots of gold?

  Ahmose held a finger to his lips. He studied the few villagers we saw for a long enough time that my legs began to cramp. Ashleigh retreated reluctantly, and I took over. Leaning close to him, I asked, “What are you watching for?”

  Ahmose turned to look at me, his eyes narrowed. “Lily?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m looking for weapons, soldiers, a hint that they have magic,” he answered.

  “Have you seen any of those things?” I asked.

  “No.
But something feels off.”

  “Yeah. It does,” I agreed.

  “Tia?” he asked. “What do you sense?”

  Tia was surprised at being directly addressed. She appreciated it. I stepped aside mentally and let her take control. My head tilted to the side, and my nostrils flared. “There are more villagers than we see,” Tia said. “Many more.”

  “That’s what I was worried about. But where are they?”

  Tia inhaled deeply, and when the air cycled through our lungs, she froze. Tingles shot up my spine, and all my nerves stood on end. “Above us!” she hissed.

  At that moment, ululating cries echoed all around us as small bodies dropped from the treetops and slid down on vines. Before we could even stand up, they surrounded us, spears jabbing into our sides and dozens of arrows pointed our way. The tallest warrior came up to my belly button, but that didn’t make them any less fierce or formidable. Their faces and dark bodies were painted and coated with ash, making them appear ghostly.

  They spoke in a language I didn’t understand but Ahmose and Tia did. By accessing her thoughts, I was able to discern their meaning.

  “You trespass on our hunting grounds!” the largest warrior said as he stepped forward.

  Though Tia caught the meaning of his words, she couldn’t speak back. Ahmose, who had raised his hands in the air to show he meant no harm, spoke for us. Tia translated mentally. “We did not mean to offend. I am seeking my lost brothers. Have you seen them? They are hidden in a dark place.”

  The warriors looked at one another and talked briefly until one of them hissed and they all went quiet. “We do not go to the dark place. It is forbidden. Those who seek it out do not return.”

  “We have no choice. We must find my brothers. Can you guide us?”

  The men shook their spears angrily as arguments broke out among them. “We do not help those who trespass!” he shouted at Ahmose, despite the fact that it would take two or three of them standing on each other’s shoulders to even reach his height.

  Ahmose folded his arms across his chest. “Then perhaps we can petition your king. We have much to offer in trade.”

  I looked up in alarm. We had nothing to trade. We didn’t even have water. I licked my chapped lips and swallowed drily. Ahmose’s expression was cool and confident. Even Tia was worried, and if she was worried, I was nearly petrified.

  The tallest man fidgeted as he considered our proposal. Then, finally, he gave a stiff nod and shouted out instructions to his men, who jabbed at us with spears. Ahmose pulled me close to shield me, and we allowed them to march us unceremoniously into the village. The few women who were milling about shouted and drew the children into their arms. They disappeared into small homes patched together with leaves, bits of cloth, and tree branches.

  We were made to sit by a large fire pit with several cauldrons, their thick contents bubbling. “You stay here,” the big warrior warned. “I bring back king. Maybe he help you”—he peered at me with a wicked grin, his stained teeth sharp—“maybe he cook you for dinner.” The man laughed uproariously at his own joke. At least, I hoped it was a joke.

  He leaned closer and closed his eyes, sniffing my neck and hair. “You good and tender meat,” he said with another gleeful belly laugh before disappearing into the largest hut. Maybe it wasn’t a joke. We didn’t have to wait long, but I felt every minute. Nausea overwhelmed me as I pondered why there were so few women and children in the village. Were these people really cannibals? I wondered. Did they eat the weak ones of their tribe? I grimaced, listening to the sounds of their dinner pop and sputter as it cooked over the fire.

  Tia thought the whole idea was fascinating. She regaled me with a story about a lioness who ate her cub when it died. I’m sure my face was a mask of horror, but Tia talked about it with a tone of reverence, explaining that it was natural and instinctive. The mother was reabsorbing the energy of the lost cub so she could continue to feed her other, healthier ones. Still, we all agreed that none of us wanted to be added to the menu.

  Soon the entrance flap of cloth covering the hut fluttered, and the warrior emerged. Just behind him another man exited. He was clothed in a skirt of colorful fabric, though his chest was bare. Instead of a painted face, he wore an intricate mask, similar to the carved totem we’d seen before. The king was slightly taller than the other men, maybe all of four feet and a few inches, and I wondered if that fact alone was what had qualified him for leadership. He came boldly toward us but instead of looking at us or engaging in conversation, he addressed his people.

  “These interlopers come to us begging favors. Shall we grant them?”

  “No!” the people shouted over one another.

  The barefooted man stepped around us shaking a stick, the shells at his ankles and on his stick rattling noisily. “They seek the forbidden place,” he said. “They ignore our warnings. Do they come to steal our food or to become our food?”

  All Tia heard was “food” over and over again from the crowd. We couldn’t tell which way the wind was blowing.

  “Perhaps they are sent by the gods. It is my job as your king, to find out why.”

  Shouts of agreement spread around the camp. I reached for Ahmose’s hand, and he wrapped his fingers around mine, squeezing them reassuringly while giving me an indiscernible nod.

  “Bring me the diviners!” the king shouted, and a man hurried into the main hut. He fetched a bag and what looked like the head from one of the long beaked birds. I stared into its empty eye sockets as the man dumped the contents of the bag into the skull, plugged the openings, and shook it back and forth. Finally, he raised it over his head, his hands cupping the bottom of it. As the beak opened, out fell six rocks with painted symbols. They rolled across the ground, one stopping near my shoe. Upon closer examination, I noticed they weren’t actually rocks at all.

  Palm nuts, Tia said in my mind. Tribes in Africa use them for a similar purpose.

  Despite her knowledge, she couldn’t discern what the nuts might be predicting for us. The man hunched over the nuts, turning them with long bony fingers as he made various grunting noises. When he was satisfied, he stood. A wide, eerie grin appeared below the mask. Please don’t kill us, I thought.

  Tia gave me the mental approximation of a lioness snort. She considered our captors easily overcome. I wanted to feel assured by her confidence, but my practical side wouldn’t allow it. Instead, I replayed all the adventure movies I’d ever seen where the heroes of the story had been bushwhacked and tied up. It never turned out well. Of course, we weren’t tied up. At least not yet.

  Raising his hands in the air with a triumphant expression, the man silenced the crowd. The jungle also seemed to go spookily still as the man proclaimed his findings. With dramatics worthy of any Emmy Award–winning actor, he said with a flourish, “Our two interlopers are to face…the Calabash Trials!”

  The warriors surrounding us stomped their feet and shouted their excitement. “What’s a calabash?” I asked Ahmose, leaning close to his ear.

  “It’s a gourd.”

  “Oh. That doesn’t sound so bad. How can a trial by gourd be dangerous?”

  As if in answer to my question, three small warriors approached. They each carried a decorated brown gourd with a short neck and a dark hole at the top. They shook them ominously, dancing around us, then set them down in front of the king, who now knelt on a braided mat. “First we celebrate, then the trial begins!”

  Some stringed instruments were brought out, along with a variety of drums. The warriors lined up and began stomping and singing, their voices merging seamlessly in a series of clicks and whistles as they moved around the fire pit. One of the women began pounding on a trough of water, producing a drumming rhythm that reverberated in my bones. The boiling food hanging over the fire was scooped out and passed around, along with gourds of water that were shared among several tribesmen.

  A fragrant bowl of the simmering stew was passed almost beneath my nose, but none was offered to
either me or Ahmose. The smell was bitter and earthy, like burned meat mixed with decaying plant material coated with exotic spice. Ashleigh groused, Wish it was stirabout. Got a real cravin’ for it. Coulda offered us somethin’. At least water.

  What’s stirabout? I asked to take my mind off how thirsty I was.

  Kind of like a porridge.

  I’d take that over whatever they’re eating any day.

  We can hunt for ourselves once we show these people our claws, Tia said. I don’t understand why we aren’t making a move.

  Ahmose knows we can’t find the others on our own, I said. He’s probably waiting to see if they’re going to help us. We’ll just play along until we get a feel for things.

  Lionesses don’t play along. They go for the kill or they slink away, Tia replied.

  Well, humans have learned to get the biggest bang for their buck, I said.

  A buck sounds tasty right about now, my inner lioness growled.

  I sighed. Well, what does your instinct tell you?

  To trust Ahmose, Tia admitted.

  Me too, Ashleigh added.

  Then we’ll wait.

  I tried to be patient, to sit still like Ahmose was doing. His arms lay on his knees, and he sat quietly, resting and watching as if he were a celebrated guest at the feast and not dying of hunger and thirst like we were. To pass the time, I tried to fix my unruly hair. The tie had slipped away. I didn’t want to reveal all our cards yet by summoning my power just to pull it back again. Instead, I fluffed it out, knowing it probably looked like a mess of wild straw poking out in every direction.

  Almost an hour passed before the villagers settled down and the music and dancing ceased. The empty bowl was taken away from the king, and he dusted off his hands and stood up, beckoning us to do the same thing. Then he summoned the three men who held the gourds, and they approached, bowing low and holding out their offerings before them.

  “Before you are given the privilege of choosing a gourd,” the king said, “you must pass three trials.”