“Vizier, if you would watch over Amon’s young lady, I will attempt to open this door,” Ahmose said.
“Wait a minute, who told you I was…?”
I glanced over at Asten, who gave me a charming smile and shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, you’re wrong. Both of you. Amon is just my friend.”
Ahmose had placed both of his big hands against the door. Bracing them there, he turned to look at me with his steel-gray eyes. “You are bound to one another. As his brother, I can feel this, even without Asten’s girlish whisperings.”
Frowning now, Asten countered, “Nothing is certain at this point. Besides which, why is it that I must put up with your insufferable mockery century after century? Just because I am more handsome than you and my body is not covered with enough hair to rival a jackal’s is no reason to call me girlish. Your jealousy is unbecoming.”
“Yes, you are very pretty, Asten. Normally. You are not now, of course, since you are covered in filth. It is too bad this dungeon does not have a mirror so you could check your appearance. I know how proud you are of it. I am sure you would be devastated to see your current state.”
“Bah! Perhaps we should have left you to your eternal sleep a bit longer. You are as moody as a wrinkled fishwife. Is this about what happened with those devotees at our last rising? It was not entirely my fault, you know.”
“Ah, Asten. You cannot help but draw all the attention to yourself.” Ahmose felt along the cracks in the door with his fingertips. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he seemed to lend only half of his attention to arguing with his brother.
“All it takes to gain a woman’s notice is to listen to her,” Asten said.
“I listen. I was just not blessed with the skill to beguile women with my words like you were. Couple that with your handsome face and no woman even notices my presence.”
“I’d notice you,” I said offhandedly. “And I think you’re both very handsome. Any girl would be lucky to gain the interest of either one of you.”
Asten grinned. “Your beauty is eclipsed only by your rare level of wisdom.”
Shaking his head, Ahmose said, “Do you see how he uses his tongue to shamelessly flatter women? Please reassure me by saying you would not fall for his common tricks.”
“Um…” Ahmose had moved to the other side of the door and was investigating every knobby bump in the wood as I spoke. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about how Asten uses his tongue.”
Asten winked at me and Ahmose froze, his face turning bright red as he said, “I apologize. I did not think how my meaning could be misconstrued.”
“No problem.” I found Ahmose’s discomfiture charming. It was refreshing, especially in such a big, self-assured man. When he glanced at me shamefacedly, I offered him a wide smile, which seemed to make him relax a bit. He turned back to the door.
“Ah, I have found the path,” Ahmose said. “Now, if you would kindly stand back, I will see if I can make a way for us to escape. I would ask you to help, Asten, but I would not want you to muss your hair.”
Asten folded his arms. “I do not have any hair. And neither do you. Your skull is as bare as a goose egg, which is just as well since your hair never looked as good as mine anyway,” he said, obviously not wanting the playful exchange to cease.
Ahmose sighed, but there was a smile on his face as he said to me, “It is true. He is the most handsome of us, which is miraculous considering how often I have punched the smug snake charmer in the face.” Over his shoulder he said, “I’ll give you your millennial welcome-back-to-the-world-of-the-living beating after we rescue Amon.”
“I look forward to it,” Asten said, openly grinning. “Now get the door open.”
“Yes, Brother.”
Ahmose whispered a spell in Egyptian, touching the pad of his thumb to a circular knot on the wooden door. Silvery light moved from his thumb into the wood, leaving gleaming trails of different sizes over the surface like roads on a map.
The light grew brighter and brighter as the door shook. Ahmose stepped back and wrapped an arm around me, turning my face halfway to his chest. “Cover your eyes,” he said. I did, but peeked through the cracks in my fingers.
The shaking grew fiercer and then the door exploded, sending fragmented chunks, like broken puzzle pieces, ripping through the air. When it was over, I asked, “How did you do that?”
Ahmose tilted his head. “I am the pathfinder,” he said simply.
“But that’s not a path. It’s a door.”
“Yes. I found the path of weakness in the door.”
“Amazing!” Dr. Hassan said.
We stepped through the doorway and emerged from an abandoned building a few blocks from the temple. Suddenly, I became light-headed, from lack of sleep, almost dying, not eating anything substantial for a few days, or a combination of the three. I stumbled over a piece of door and Asten caught me. “Ahmose,” he said, “is there anything that can be done to sustain her?”
The brothers exchanged a meaningful glance. “Not until we find Amon,” Ahmose replied.
“It’s okay. I’m sure it’s just low blood sugar,” I said. “We’ll get something to eat as soon as we save Amon.” I couldn’t help but notice that both brothers kept glancing my way as we walked and they held out their arms to support me even when it wasn’t necessary.
Soon we came to the temple, this time entering through a back door on the Horus side of the building. It was still dark, but dawn was coming.
I wasn’t as aware of my surroundings as I should have been, and at first I didn’t even realize it was me making noise when there was a loud crunch from glass littering the floor. Everyone had stepped around the glass but me.
“Sorry,” I whispered as I froze in place.
“What a shame,” Dr. Hassan murmured. “Someone has stolen the ancient medical instruments that have been on display here and they’ve broken the tablet depicting evidence of my Egyptian ancestors performing intricate surgery.”
“Ew…that—”
Screaming distracted me from finishing my sentence about the grotesque scene I had just imagined thanks to Dr. Hassan’s description. “Amon!” I cried as Ahmose lifted me quickly over the broken glass and we darted toward the sound. Before I took two steps into the next room, Ahmose cut me off.
Placing his big hands on my arms, he looked me in the eyes and said, “We will go together.”
I nodded, desperate to do something, and shifted on my feet restlessly while Ahmose and Asten created weapons. They held out their hands, murmuring softly as tiny grains of sand rose in the air from every corner of the room. When the sand gathered wasn’t enough to make weapons, it was joined by a steady stream from outside until a big enough ball had formed in front of each of them.
Asten’s sand elongated, shaping itself into his bow and a quiver of diamond-headed arrows, but Ahmose’s dusty particles separated into two equal-sized orbs. One solidified, becoming a gleaming silver ax. Its double edges were sparkling and sharp, and its surface was covered in engraved hieroglyphs.
The second weapon looked like a hammer, except it was several inches longer. Instead of a claw to remove nails, one end was a thick spike, and the other held a wide plate as big as my hand with dozens of painful-looking darts embedded in it. A pointed barb at the top completed the deadly weapon that Dr. Hassan told me was a cudgel.
“Stay well behind us,” Ahmose said as he gave his weapon a twirl to test its balance. “If it is safe enough, your task will be to free Amon. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Dr. Hassan took a few digging tools from his bag and handed me a trowel caked with dirt, keeping two pointed files for himself. We adjusted our bags over our shoulders and nodded at the Egyptian warriors standing at the ready before us.
Adrenaline was pumping through my veins as I danced on my feet and gave my weak-looking trowel the once-over. Asten offered a small smile and said, “Let us proceed.??
?
Stealthily, the two brothers moved forward, following the sounds of the screams, and when they signaled each other that the coast was clear, we moved ahead. We had passed three rooms before we finally came upon guards.
There was something…unnatural about them. During the brief glance I managed to get, I noted that their bodies were not correctly proportioned and their eyes gleamed ghostly white. Dr. Hassan pressed his back against the wall next to me. He looked nervous, which scared me more than the ghouls standing between us and Amon.
“They are Masaw Haput—those born of death,” he whispered. “You would call them zombies.”
“Zombies? Are you serious?”
“This is further proof that we are dealing with a gifted necromancer.”
“So how do we fight them, then? If they are already dead, how do we kill them?”
“You do not…kill them,” Ahmose interrupted. “You will remain hidden. And they will return to the state from which they were raised when we dispose of the evil one who called them forth.”
“What are we supposed to do now?” I asked Dr. Hassan.
“Remain here, I would assume.”
I peeked at the zombie warriors, who stood as still as statues. Their gray, sunken skin and bones were covered with strips of black leather. The bones that were exposed and no longer able to bend using ligaments were wired together somehow, their joints connected by long staples. Some rotten limbs must have remained attached by the armor strapped onto their bodies, otherwise, zombie armor seemed a bit superfluous, if you asked me.
Amon screamed again, the sound louder this time. “We’ve got to save him!” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low. A powerful blast of energy from behind the closed door shook the walls and a chunk of rock tumbled down near us, releasing a cascade of dust.
Dr. Hassan’s raised brows indicated its size. “Lily!” he cried. “Get down!”
I ducked as Dr. Hassan sank his two files deep into the zombie warrior’s chest. It just stared at the two of us, breathing raggedly. Then, raising its sword overhead, it let out a supernatural scream, its jaw unhinging, a metal staple the only thing holding the jaw to its skull.
Just as the sword was about to come crashing down upon us, it was met with Ahmose’s silvery ax. The god of the moon thrust back the creature’s weapon as he lifted his and took its head off in a mighty swing. “Come, Lily,” said Ahmose, holding out his hand.
Asten stood on the other side of the hall, bow lifted. As he let loose a gleaming diamond-headed arrow, a dozen more guards rounded the corner, like feral beasts scenting fresh meat. The arrow hit the remaining guard at the door right between the eyes and the creature exploded. Immediately, Asten pulled another arrow from his quiver. “Lily! To me!” he cried.
Dr. Hassan followed closely on my heels as I made my way to Asten. When all the zombies were incapacitated, Ahmose joined us. We were about to break through the door when it opened, more undead warriors pouring out.
As Asten and Ahmose fought the new horde, I glanced behind me. The fallen were rising again. In fact, the warrior whose head Ahmose had chopped off had located it and set it back on his shoulders, albeit at the wrong angle. He would be upon us in moments.
“We cannot weave the spell until Amon is freed!” Asten exclaimed.
Through the mass of bodies in the doorway, I saw a mist of red with a man standing in the middle of it. I knew this had to be the necromancer.
I grabbed Dr. Hassan’s hand. “We must break through and free Amon!”
“But they said to wait for an opportunity.”
“We’ll have to make our own opportunity!”
We darted between fallen bodies and avoided being caught except for one headless zombie’s arm latching on to my leg. I kicked hard enough that it released me; then I crouched down and continued on. Ahmose’s arm hung limply, and Asten had a deep wound on his thigh. Both had several bite marks, which didn’t bode well, considering they were fighting the undead.
I wasn’t sure if Dr. Hassan was still behind me or not, but I rushed to Amon. He was tied to a chair facing the red mist that obscured the features of the man behind it. I ignored the mist and began sawing on the ropes that bound Amon’s arms. My wimpy trowel wasn’t making much headway.
“Ah, Lily,” the ghostly shadow said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it before.
“Well, I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you, then,” I said, not allowing anything to distract me from freeing Amon.
Amon’s head had been lowered onto his chest, but at the sound of my voice, he raised it, his words filled with pain. “Young Lily?” he gasped.
“Yes, it’s me. Just hold on. We’re here to rescue you.”
“I’m afraid your rescue attempt is fruitless. You see, I wanted you to come,” the smooth, sinister voice answered from within the mist.
“Really? Is that why you threw us into the sandpit?” I asked.
“Not at all. You stumbled upon that on your own. How did you get out, by the way? I am curious.”
“Uh-uh. Not sharing information with the bad guy, thank you very much.” One of the ropes binding Amon finally broke. I started working on the second. “Now, if you’d like to share some information with us, I wouldn’t be opposed,” I said to the shadow. “Like why don’t you come out here and introduce yourself properly? That is, unless you prefer the title Dark Minion Necromancer of Seth, like I’ve been calling you.”
Laughter echoed through the room. “I am going to so enjoy getting to know you better, Lilliana Young.”
I broke through the second rope. “Okay, that’s creepy. Didn’t know the dark minion knew my name.”
I risked a glance back at the door to see how Asten and Ahmose were doing. But just as soon as there were only a few zombie guards left, the shadow lord shot a stream of red mist toward them. “Lily? Where are you?” they shouted.
“I’m here!” I called out, but their eyes were gleaming in the cloud like Hollywood spotlights on a cloudy evening.
“They cannot see or hear you now, which will make our exchange much more intimate. Of course, Amon is incapacitated enough that I will allow him to listen. I take such delight in that, you know.” The shadow stepped closer, and though its visage was still dark, it became obvious that he was a man and very unlike the monster zombies he’d created.
I heard a deep chanting resonate from within the red cloud, and a cloaked man stepped forward and seized my arm. His mouth was the only visible facial feature, and it was currently turned up in a suggestive leer.
The last rope hung by just a few threads. If Amon had been at full strength he could have broken it, but he just sat there, his back to me, slumped in the chair.
The necromancer priest yanked me toward him and stretched out his long fingers to caress my cheek. “Ever since my biloko demons got a taste of your flesh, I must confess that I’ve been distracted by the idea of savoring you myself.”
Narrowing my eyes, I gave him my most lethal hands-off socialite stare and channeled my best rich-girl snark. “I think I would prefer the biloko demons, if I had to choose.”
He shook me when I flashed a mocking smile. “You would not say that if you knew who I am. What I have become.”
“Really? I’m a New Yorker. Nothing surprises me.”
“Perhaps consorting with Egypt’s sons has left you…jaded. Despite that, I intend to impress you”—he smiled—“one way or another. You see, I have been remade into much more than the man I was. The power of one long dead has filled me. I am”—he paused for dramatic effect—“Apophis.” He dragged out the ending of the name with a sibilant hiss.
Wrinkling my nose as if I smelled something distasteful, I replied, “I figured as much. It explains the smell. All things considered, I’m more impressed with Egypt’s sons. You’re just a cheap imitation of a lecherous wannabe god with a crocodile fetish. Consider me unimpressed.”
“I am much more than that!” he screamed, throwing me across the room. When I landed, I rolled until I stopped with a thud against the wall. My already exhausted body didn’t want to get back up. Slowly, I rolled over in time to see the cloaked minion of Seth stalking toward me, but he was stopped by the sounds of chanting filling the air.
“No!” he screamed as he whirled around. A trembling Dr. Hassan stood behind Amon, holding the final broken rope in one hand and a small silver object in the other. “Foolish man! Do you know what you’ve done?”
Pinpricks of light filled the room, reminding me of Asten’s firefly smoke. Swirling golden, silver, and white sparkles collided, becoming larger. Then they surrounded the cloaked minion, circling his body faster and faster. He screamed, and when he arched his back, the hood covering his head fell away.
I gasped, and Dr. Hassan stepped forward, unbelieving. “Sebak?” he exclaimed. “You betrayed me! Why?” Dr. Hassan’s face grew red. “You swore to uphold the order!”
Trapped, Dr. Sebak Dagher, now the incarnation of Apophis, spat back venomously, “You are an ancient relic, unworthy and unwilling to seize the power at your disposal. I would have killed you long ago if you had trusted me enough to reveal the location of Amon’s canopic jars.”
The lights squeezed tighter. “The Dark One is rising, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it!” Desperate now, Dagher continued fanatically, “His hand will not be stayed. He will make his throne from the bones of those who oppose him. Make no mistake; the powers of the Dark One will prevail.”
“Sebak, there is still time!” Dr. Hassan shouted. “You must stop this! You cannot possibly win.”
Ignoring Osahar and turning to me, Sebak said, “I look forward to the opportunity to gaze into your lovely eyes once more.” He thrust his arms forward and red light poured from his fingertips and out the door. Striking his hands together, he disappeared with the sound of a thunderclap.
The red mist surrounding Asten and Ahmose dissipated and the two brothers quickly used their power to thrust aside the bodies of the zombies littering the floor, along with those still barreling toward the door.