“I understand.” My mouth twitched in a smile.
Horus turned me around and clasped the necklace around my neck. “While you wear it, no path will be hidden from you. One side turns to the sky and the other to the earth. If you ever have a problem telling which is which, use the stone. It will help you right yourself.”
As I was pondering what kind of a place I would be in where I couldn’t tell the land from the sky, he spun me back to face him and cupped my shoulders with his strong hands.
“I’m serious about the peril, Lily. Your journey is a hazardous one full of ancient menaces and dark paths.”
I nodded. “I know. We’ll be careful. I promise.” I touched my fingertip to the blue stone hanging from the silver chain around my neck and said, “Thank you.” Looking up at the worried god still holding on to me as if his sheer willpower alone were enough to keep me safe, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his smooth cheek.
He smiled warmly, but his expression immediately changed to something darker. “That’s not exactly the reward I was seeking, Lily.” Wrenching me against his body, Horus kissed me again, and this time it went beyond passion. It was anxious and desperate, hungry and clutching. It was as if I could save him from drowning. When he began to lift his head, I pulled him back, and I wasn’t sure if it was me or Tia, but I kissed him more deeply, only dimly aware that the heart scarab was still on the table. In that moment, the beat of Amon’s heart was as distant to me as a speck of sand on the beach an ocean away.
Horus groaned, running his hands up my back and burying them in my hair. Tia trembled with delight, and her thrill filled my mind until I could no longer remember who I was or what I was doing. Horus held me tenderly yet firmly. I felt like his air, his life, and nothing could make him let me go. That is…until the room exploded.
I stumbled, and if Horus had not been holding me so tightly, I would have fallen. Waves of power washed over both of us as the room filled with light. It undulated in a steady rhythm, one that was very familiar. It was the flapping of wings.
My heart thrilled for a moment; I thought Amon had somehow gotten free and was here. That he’d found me. But even as I allowed my eyes to adjust, I recognized that it couldn’t be him. The gleaming orange and red bird that hovered in the air above us was much too small to be Amon’s golden falcon.
Still, the creature was resplendent, regal. And as it regarded me, Horus inclined his head in respect, though his expression seemed sulky. “It would appear your cause has influenced the great benu bird to come out of hiding,” Horus said.
“Benu bird?” I asked out of the corner of my mouth as the gorgeous winged beast moved to a protruding beam and settled there. He danced on his crimson legs, flapping his wings and preening the feathers that flickered like fire. Two long tail feathers stretched all the way to the floor, and when they brushed against the tile, little sparks rose.
“Yes. Many have confused him for a phoenix. Unlike a phoenix that rises every five hundred years, the benu bird is immortal. He was likely watching our”—Horus paused and narrowed his eyes at the bird—“exchange and chose the perfect moment to reveal himself.”
“Reveal? Meaning he was already here?”
“He can make himself invisible. He was probably here all along. It’s a rare thing to see him, as he hasn’t revealed himself in centuries.” Horus frowned. “It’s interesting that he does so now.”
“Does he mean to help me, then?”
“It would appear so.”
“He’s very beautiful.”
Horus snickered. “I’m sure he likes to think so.”
Slowly, I approached the bird and held out my hand. “I’m Lily,” I said. “Thank you for coming to help us.”
Opening his beak, the benu bird twisted his head so one eye peered down at me, and then he sang out, the notes haunting and beautiful and like nothing I’d ever heard before.
“How lovely!” I exclaimed when the song was finished.
Horus cupped the back of his neck and stared long and hard at the bird. “He’s unique, all right.”
“Did you create him?” I asked.
Chortling almost uncomfortably, Horus answered, “The benu bird came into being by himself. If Amun-Ra is the sun, then the benu is the sunrise.”
I glanced at him in puzzlement, but then the benu bird flapped his wings, rising, and turned into a streak of light that disappeared through the high window. Rematerializing on the other side, he tapped the glass with his beak and circled.
“He wants you to follow him,” Horus said.
“Right.” I turned toward the pile of clothing and picked up the white dress. Horus stood behind me with his arms folded across his chest, an eyebrow lifted, the corner of his mouth tilting upward. “Would you mind leaving while I dress?” I asked.
Glancing up briefly at the window the bird had disappeared through, he muttered, “I suppose that’s for the best.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll wait for you outside and escort you as far as the city wall. The benu bird will take you from there.”
I nodded, and when the door closed behind him, I quickly doffed the robe and stepped into the white dress. The gleaming material was gathered at the empire waist and flowed down my body, ending just above my white sandaled feet. The beaded top covered the entire bodice like a yoke and encircled my shoulders. I twisted my hair up in a knot and secured it with the white tie from the robe; put on my shoulder harness, adjusting it to fit over the dress; secured the strap of the quiver across my body; and took hold of the bow.
As I looked at myself one last time, I felt Tia’s discomfort. “What is it?” I asked. She didn’t answer, so I cocked my head and tried to access her thoughts. “Ah,” I said finally. “It’s the dress.”
I just don’t know how we are supposed to run and fight with all this material encompassing our form. We would do better to go naked.
I laughed. “Maybe. But then we’d freeze. I don’t have a coat of fur like you.” I bit my lip. “How about a compromise?”
She caught the edge of my thoughts and I felt her acquiescence. Summoning the power of the sphinx, we shortened the dress to the length of a tunic and covered our legs with a supple pair of white leggings.
Horus met me in the hall and gave me a quick look of approval, including an appreciative glance at my legs, and then led me through a maze of hallways until we came to a door.
Once out of Amun-Ra’s home, the golden god caused quite a stir. Citizens of Heliopolis stopped whatever they were doing to watch him as he led me through a bustling thoroughfare to the edge of the city. Though I looked for the benu bird in the sky above us, there was no sign of him.
“Are you sure he’ll meet me?”
“Yes,” Horus answered flatly as a group of merchants saw him and paused mid-transaction.
“What’s wrong with them?” I asked.
He flinched. “We don’t typically walk among our creations.”
“Really? Why not?”
“It makes them…uncomfortable.”
“How so?”
Shrugging uneasily, he allowed himself to be distracted when a woman dropped a bowl of purple fruit at the sight of him. One orb rolled to his feet. Horus picked it up, dusted it off, and handed it to me. “They don’t want to stare into the faces of those who made them. It reminds them that they are mortal. Most prefer to worship us from afar.”
“But don’t you want to know them?”
“No.”
“Why not? I would think you’d be proud. Like a father.”
Turning, Horus took hold of my shoulders and stopped me. “Because, Lily, to know them is to love them. If I love them, then it will cause me pain when I lose them. It is the curse that comes with immortality. Do you understand?”
“I…I think I do,” I answered quietly. He looked like he wanted to say more.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Why do you venture on this course when the inevitable o
utcome, even should you be successful, is to part with the boy you profess to love once again?”
“He’s worth it,” I said simply. “The physical distance doesn’t matter because the truth of our connection is engraved in my heart. I could no more deny my feelings for him than I could deny the brightness of the sun.”
Horus frowned. “You know, there was a part of you that responded to my kiss, too.”
“No.” I shook my head. “That can’t be right.”
“The spell I cast wouldn’t have worked at all had you been unwilling,” he said. “Your lioness may have been swayed by its lure, but if you had been truly against it, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“I should’ve known you’d play dirty with a spell,” I groused.
Tia tried to appease me. It is not your fault, Lily. I was the weak one. Horus…tempts me. It should not damage your relationship with Amon.
I don’t want to talk about it, I said sulkily.
Perhaps someday I could love Horus, she mused.
It’s not love, I responded dryly in my mind.
I wish for him to hold me in his arms and rain kisses upon my lips and face. I like it when he pets me. This is what you desire from your Amon as well. Is this not love?
No. Yes, I groaned. How was I going to explain the concept of love to a lioness? Those things are lovely, I told her mentally. They feel wonderful. But they are only expressions of love. Only symbols of the emotion behind them.
Then Horus loves me. If he expresses it so deftly, he must.
A man who does not love you can fool you with…physical distractions. True love takes time. It’s not instantaneous. You must get to know the other person. Come to admire them. Find out what they dream of, what they hope for, and see if those things are echoed in your own heart. Only then will love begin. And you will know it’s true when you are asked to give something up in order to protect the one you love. Tell me, if Horus were to meet an untimely end, would you mourn him? Would your heart break over his absence?
She was quiet for a long moment. I would miss his kisses, but I would not feel a piece of my soul rip should he depart our company.
I smiled. Then you know what love really means.
That my soul rips when we are separated?
Exactly.
Horus stopped at a wall so high I couldn’t see the top of it. With a wave of his hand, stones shifted, grinding against the bedrock and on each other with the sound of a thousand millstones that made my bones shake and strain as if they would crumble to powder. Holding my arm to keep me upright, Horus finally let go when a gap appeared in the wall.
“This is where we part, young sphinx.”
Pain crossed his face, and he moved in close as if to kiss me again. He seemed almost unable to help himself, but I stepped back, determined this time to keep him at bay. Fortunately, it became a non-issue, as a screech overhead stopped him in his tracks. He glared at the circling benu bird and satisfied himself with pressing his lips against my palm. “Farewell,” he said as I stepped through the opening. “Follow the bird. He will not lead you astray.”
“Goodbye, Horus. Perhaps we will meet again.”
“Perhaps.” He waved his hand and the stone wall began to seal itself shut behind me. “But it would be better for me if we did not.” His bright, hungry, but worried eyes haunted me as I turned and set off from Heliopolis.
Above me the benu bird came into view. Though it was hard to see him through the trees, he always circled back to find me. If I wandered in the wrong direction, I’d hear his song echo in the forest. Sometimes I’d pass a tall conifer and find him perched on a limb watching me.
When I got close enough, I tried to ask questions, but as soon as I began he’d take off, his long tail hanging several feet below his body. Just when I started to feel thirsty, we came upon a beautiful waterfall that cast rainbows in the air. The water was cool and crisp and the pool below was full of bright, multicolored fish. I gasped when they actually rose from the depths, their fins fluttering quickly like hummingbird wings, weaving playfully through the waterfall before diving back into the pool. Of course, Tia wondered what they tasted like, while I exclaimed over their uniqueness and beauty.
We continued on all afternoon, the benu bird leading us. When he picked up speed, so did we. As we ran, I had another change in my body to ponder. I marveled at my new level of endurance, the deep inhales and exhales as my legs and arms pumped in a steady rhythm that felt at once foreign and natural. I began to second-guess myself. Each thing I did that was out of the norm for me, or that I knew was impossible for a human to do, made me face the fact that I wasn’t human anymore, and the thought was uncomfortable enough to make me push my fears to the back of my mind, which was much easier to do when I ran.
Tia seemed much more accepting of our new status. She was a lioness and then she wasn’t. She embraced new discoveries like kissing a gorgeous man or luxuriating in a warm bath with wild abandon and passion. The differences in her new form didn’t cause her alarm so much as curiosity, and when I made a comment about it, she found my worrying over what was already done irrational.
As we ran, my thoughts quieted. Hurtling over fallen tree trunks and large rocks with the ease of an Amazon, we passed through the forest and crossed a wide grassy plain, then climbed a hilly path dotted with animals that resembled a cross between a goat and a bear. The animals merely lifted their heads as we sped by and then went back to grazing.
I gasped when we came to the other side of the hills. What stretched before us was an indigo sea. Using my powerful new eyes, I gazed out at the wide expanse of water and wondered if this was the same ocean we’d passed over when riding Nebu. The colors were surely dissimilar.
The city of Heliopolis was full of golden light and twinkling buildings but this side of Duat was the opposite. The mountains were gray. The landscape dull and muted. The trees and bushes were dark shadows against the gloomy terrain. Even though the sun was out over the water, there was no warmth, no sparkling waves.
“What is this place?” I asked Tia.
I do not know. But I scent death.
Shivering, I rubbed my arms as a spine-chilling breeze lifted the fine hairs on the back of my neck. The tickle of winter encircled me and I got the impression that I was surrounded by all things decayed and petrified, hidden just beneath an icy layer that I couldn’t see past.
We followed the benu bird to the water’s edge, where a rickety dock stretched forth its leprous arm into the sea. Next to it sat a thatched bungalow made of rotting beach wood. It might have been painted once. At least I hoped the dried red flecks, which resembled dead, thorny blooms, peeling from the sides of the home, were paint. But if it had been once, it was now so weathered it was barely noticeable.
There was an air of abandon to the building, as if the only thing that might choose to reside in such a place would be a ghostly sailor who haunted the beach looking for victims to drown in the murky waters. But then there was a gorgeous boat, looking as out of place as an NYC socialite at a hillbilly competition.
Like a sleek show dog bound to a homeless man’s cart, the vessel sat poised and unmoving, its mast rising high as if it looked to the heavens for rescue. It was tied securely to the dock, which didn’t assure the boat’s safety so much as the dock’s, and I hoped its presence meant that someone likely did live here, or at least visited once in a while.
The vessel’s gleaming ebony paint shone in the weak light of the setting sun. A pair of intricately carved oars rested against the hull, and the sturdy mast with a thick sail was bound with tight ropes as well. At the bow of the ship was a carved figurehead of a bird, which looked suspiciously similar to the benu bird, which was now perched atop the broken dock post.
The bird stared down at me expectantly, as if it was waiting for me to do something. It danced on the top of the post, ruffling its feathers as it softly sang for me. One of its feathers brushed against my arm and warmth seeped into my skin briefly before it w
as lifted away once again.
When the bird’s song ended, the pieced together door of the hut swung inward, revealing an interior so dark, I could make out nothing inside, even with my enhanced eyesight. It swung shut again with a reverberating bang.
“You…you want me to go in?” I asked the bird.
The bird answered me by flying to the falling-down shack and perching on the roof.
“I guess you do,” I said. “Okay, then. Here we go.”
I knocked on the door that clung to the side of the home on broken hinges. It hung at such a slant it couldn’t even close properly. As my knuckles rapped against it a second time, it swung drunkenly, giving me glimpses of the dark space within. When nobody answered, I shrugged and pulled open the door. It didn’t squeak so much as groan with debilitating pain as it hung open and stayed exactly where I left it.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice echoing in the space. The dying sunlight cast long lines of pale light through the gaps in the boards of the house, the gloomy streaks making it appear to be more of a prison cell than a home. “My name’s Lily,” I announced in the space as I took a tiny hesitant step inside. “Is anyone here?”
There was a rustle to my right. It sounded like shifting paper or perhaps the scattering of a nest of vermin. A dark shape disentangled itself from an even darker corner of the squalid home, and I heard the rumble of a deep voice.
“What do ya want?” the voice demanded, the question followed by a toxic-sounding round of phlegmy coughing and a snort.
“Horus sent me,” I responded quietly, the tone of my voice rising at the end as if I’d been asking a question instead of making a statement.
The coughing escalated, and the person hidden in the darkness finally stopped and spat. Glistening yellowish pus landed on the sandy, warped boards by my feet. I moved a step back into the frame of the door, suddenly ready to bolt.
A scraping noise indicated the figure was moving closer. “Horus?” the voice questioned suspiciously. “What do I care for him?”