Recreated

  “Thank you,” I said. “My friend has been stung. Can you heal him?”

  “Regrettably, we cannot,” the reaper said, his words buzzing in my mind. “But the salve from the mother tree in the Turquoise Forest can nullify the poison.”

  “Yes,” another echoed, “if you reach it in time. He has only a few hours.”

  “Hours?” I questioned, fear for Asten blooming in my chest. So far he showed no signs of poison, other than a slight limp and a sheen of sweat across his forehead.

  “Head west,” one said. “Find the Fountain of the Jackals. The path underneath will show you the way to the trees.”

  The reapers turned to go, but one hesitated. “We will hide your presence for as long as we dare from the Devourer, but her mind is sharp. She will discern our duplicity soon enough. It would be best for you to make haste.”

  “Wait!” I cried before the last reaper rose. He hesitated, floating in the air above us. “After we heal Asten, we plan to attack the Devourer. Will you help us?”

  The reaper stared down at me, his mandibles clacking softly as he considered my request. “You are brave fighters, but you are three, and she has the power of thousands at her disposal. We reapers are her votaries, sworn to her service. She will know if we dared to defy her. Once, a very long time ago, we served a goddess of a different sort, but we were tricked into aiding Chaos, and now we are here at the beck and call of the Mistress of the Dead. But we will always remember she who is our creator. She who was lost to us.”

  He paused. “I will ask my brothers to deliberate upon your proposal. But know that the thing you speak of is very dangerous. We will likely all perish in the attempt, and she will wreak her vengeance upon our whole hive. If she kills our queen and our unborn, our species will perish.”

  “But if we succeed, then you will no longer need to serve her,” I said.

  “That is true.” The reaper tasted the air as he thought. “When you come to battle, let loose one of the goddess’s arrows into the sky and we will see what we can do.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and nodded my farewell.

  As the reapers left, I approached Asten. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “My leg is just a little numb at present. I believe I can walk on it with some help.”

  I grimaced as I examined the wound. “Can you make some cloth, Ahmose?”

  Within a few seconds, Ahmose created a stack of mummy-style bandages that neatly folded themselves into my hands. I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “What?” he asked when he noticed my expression.

  “Could you be a little bit more foreboding?” I asked, wrapping the bandages around Asten’s leg. “These are mummy wrappings.”

  Ahmose shrugged. “It’s the first thing I thought of.”

  I sighed. “I guess I can’t blame you. When we get back to the real world, I’ll have to take the two of you on a tour of all things modern, including hospitals with sterile supplies.”

  “And food,” Asten added. “I should like to try more of the pastries Amon introduced me to.”

  “You got it,” I said with a grin.

  For a moment, I stood still, remembering how much Amon liked to feast, especially on the round discs filled with fruit. There were so many places I could introduce him to. So many new foods we could try together. Then Asten’s next words pierced my tiny bubble of happiness.

  “Sadly, we aren’t going back with you,” he said. “You know that even if we defeat the Devourer, Ahmose, Amon, and I cannot return to your world. We aren’t due to rise for another thousand years.”

  “Maybe they’ll let you take a tiny, well-deserved vacation?” I ventured. “Maybe for a hundred years or so?”

  “It is doubtful, Lily,” Ahmose said. “We have never in our long centuries of existence been granted a reprieve.”

  “We’ll have to do something to change that. But first things first. We need to save Asten and then Amon. Can you find a path to the Fountain of the Jackals, Ahmose?”

  “I believe so.”

  He let go of Asten’s arm and I took it, offering my support as he tried to stay upright on his injured leg. Ahmose raised his arms in the air to chant a spell, then clapped his hands together.

  The entire valley began to shake.

  “What’s happening?” I cried.

  “I don’t know!” shouted Asten, stumbling against me. We clung to each other as the cliffs surrounding us rumbled, ready to crush us beneath them.

  A crevice opened in the mountain at the end of the valley, dust and rocks showering down into the dark space inside. Ahmose had cleaved the mountain in two. When the quaking was finished, the three of us stared at the newly made gap that led up and out of the valley.

  Within the hour we were at the gap, and it quickly became obvious that Asten was going to struggle to climb the rocky terrain. “You should leave me behind,” he said after we came to a stop, the two of us panting with exertion. Ahmose was scouting the best places to climb, finding the spots that were the most stable while we rested. Still, Asten was exhibiting signs of strain and we had a long, long way to go.

  “We’re not leaving you behind,” I said. “It won’t happen.”

  “Time is of the essence. You must save Amon. Surely the world is more important than I am. I’m not even a chosen vessel. I’m just a human who was swept up in this.”

  “And what do you call me?” I asked. “I didn’t exactly set out to become what I am now. We do it to save the ones we love, and I consider you a part of that group.”

  “Do you?” he asked. His eyes lit on my face, studying me as if seeking the answer to his question.

  “Do I what?” I answered softly.

  He didn’t clarify but lifted his hand to my cheek and brushed away a smudge of dirt. I pressed my hand against his, willing him to feel the touch. He gave me a sweet smile that told me he could indeed feel it. The hurt I’d felt before, though I still didn’t fully understand its cause, melted away with his smile. Asten leaned closer and my breath caught, my heart fluttering in my chest as the air around us became thick.

  Ahmose called out, “Just a little farther and you can go airborne, Asten!” He slid back down to us and the intimate moment passed. “The pull of the Mires of Despair weakens about fifteen feet up,” he said. “Once we get you there, it should go much easier for us.”

  I felt pleased that we were going to make it. We’d save him. But then, why did the Mires of Despair still tug at my heart? I mused on that until we reached the point where Asten was able to take flight.

  A moment later, Ahmose reached for me and pulled me into his arms. The three of us floated up and over the side of the cliff. We remained airborne, passing rocky terrain littered with pulsating mounds of dirt that surely housed monstrous beasts we didn’t want to meet. Jagged peaks pierced the sky, casting ominous shadows.

  There was no sun and yet there was just enough light to see by. Unlike dawn, there was no promise of brightness and hope, nothing to look forward to. We knew only misery awaited us. All was dusk. Twilight. But it was ugly and devoid of stars. It was as if we stood on the edge of a desperate horror, waiting for the monsters that hid under the bed to feel comfortable enough with our presence to reveal themselves.

  The haunted air of expectation that kept me feeling jittery was echoed in the landscape. Even with enhanced vision I could only see so far. Dark caves and pockets, hidden dens and craggy overlooks were everywhere, each one potentially hiding something or someone bent on our destruction. Tingles lifted the hairs on the back of my neck. I was sure we were being watched. Followed.

  To distract myself, I asked Ahmose about the reapers. “Why didn’t they turn to dust like the ghosts?”

  “They’re like you,” he replied.

  “Like me? What do you mean?”

  “They are living. When they die, it is their first death. Their bodies are buried here and their souls are judged. The ghosts die a second and final death.”

  “And
that could happen to you? Turning to dust, I mean?”

  “It could, but the Devourer will keep Amon alive as long as possible,” he said, assuming I was thinking of Amon. “His heart can power her for a long time.”

  “How long?” I asked, distracted.

  “How long, what?”

  “How long until she’s absorbed enough of his power to break free?”

  “I do not know. Amon is the most powerful of the three of us, since he possesses the Eye. But it could be that it won’t take long at all.”

  I thought about Amon, marveling that he’d been able to survive as long as he had in the netherworld. Unlike me, he was by himself.

  Eventually, the bleak landscape changed and we came upon a sort of alien oasis. Strange trees rose into the air, and the sound of water drew us closer.

  We touched down and Ahmose went to his brother. Feverish heat and sweat had broken out on Asten’s face, and despite his attempts to reassure us, he cried out when his foot touched the earth. Even though his leg was bandaged, I could see how swollen it had become.

  The trees were too close for Asten to remain airborne, so Ahmose carried his brother on his back while I took the lead, knives at the ready. The moment we found the source of the water—a large bubbling pool in the middle of the oasis—the noise of the birdlike creatures in the trees ceased. The all-too-recent experience with the ghosts and the reapers came to mind, and I knew from Tia that the sound of tiny creatures in the vegetation around us meant everything was fine. The moment the noise ceased was the moment a predator had arrived. I hoped, though I didn’t hold out much optimism, that the predators they sensed were us.

  I was wrong.

  A musky, dark scent, like that of a burrowing animal, tinged with the slight stench of decay, assaulted my nostrils. I spun in a circle, keeping the water at my back and the brothers behind me. Ahmose set Asten down and drew his weapons also, positioning himself alongside me.

  Before I could even prepare to throw a knife, dozens of huge, wolflike creatures encircled us. Their hunched backs were bristled with fur, their sharp claws clacking against the pebbles and rocks in their path. They crouched low, baring glistening fangs, their yellow eyes gleaming with deadly intent. Their reverberating growls sent little shivers dancing along my skin. My breathing quickened, and a cold fear licked my veins. Jackals! my mind screamed.

  Before, when fighting the reapers, I was confident, sure of myself. For some reason this was different. I knew the razor-sharp fangs would rip into my throat, devour me. They had no mercy. They wouldn’t hesitate to destroy. To kill.

  One of the beasts came closer, his form melted like liquid smoke, and then solidified much too near for me to feel comfortable.

  Why are you here? the creature resembling a giant werewolf asked in my mind. Have you come to feed our hunger?

  “The reapers said you can help us get to the Turquoise Forest.”

  And why would we do that? the beast asked with a gargling sort of laugh, his jaw opening and then fleetingly disappearing before snapping together again like a trap. The gust of air he blew out from his nostrils tasted peppery and feral on my tongue. He lifted his face and then melted, reappearing a few feet to my right.

  Outsiders. The scent of you tantalizes us, the head jackal said. You stir our blood with the slavering tang of your dread. It drifts over us lazily and invigorates us until we are crazed with what it promises. He shifted his head excitedly. We jackals have the strength of great boulders. Our flesh is as iron. Our teeth sharp. Our jaws steel traps. Your teeth are broken, dull. One of you lies weakened. Poison drinks his spirit. And you? he said right to me. You reek of fear.

  I think the pack will dine well tonight.

  I pulled an arrow of Isis from my quiver. Eleven left. The creature’s yellow eyes widened, his body turning to smoke. But before he could fully disappear, I jabbed the arrow deeply into the thick muscle of the jackal’s neck, hoping it would find purchase.

  Fortunately, it did. An unearthly howl filled the air and was soon echoed by every member of the pack. I wondered if my actions had saved us or if I’d just given the hounds of hell the reason they needed to attack.

  Drawing back my arm, I summoned my claws, preparing to sink them into the throat of the beast writhing beneath my arrow.

  “How do we get to the Turquoise Forest?” I shouted.

  We do not bend to your will. No matter who protects you.

  “You will tell me, or you will die,” I hissed.

  The jackal quickly turned his head to snap at my arm, but missed. His entire body shook while attempting to turn to smoke, but the arrow forced him to stay as flesh and blood each time.

  We don’t serve her. Not any longer, he hissed. We are pledged to a new queen now.

  “The Devourer,” I said, and I wondered then if I had made a grave error in thinking these beasts would be as easily pacified as the reapers. “Fine. You choose death, then!” I exclaimed, grabbing the arrow and twisting it deeper.

  The beast cried out with a pathetic yelp. Wait! he spat.

  “Change your mind?” I asked with an innocent-seeming air.

  He didn’t answer right away, and I shrugged, moving to finish him off. He deserves it regardless, my inner voice assured me. The mongrel, scavenger of death. His kind is a plague on the grasslands. Unfit even for carrion birds. Their entire species needs to be eradicated.

  What is going on with me? I blinked, trying to sort through my thoughts. I had never been vengeful. Especially when it came to animals. Sure, this one wanted to serve us up for dinner and I’d kill him if I had to, but my preference would be to scare them off at worst and wring the information we needed from them at best. These dark thoughts of killing each and every last one of them must be a sphinx thing. I hope. I have to hold it together.

  “Look,” I said. “I’d rather not kill you.” The voice inside me screamed in opposition. “All I want is to get my friend to the Turquoise Forest. There’s no need for this to turn bloody.”

  The only thing that prevented me from attacking—a gesture that would surely end in either my first death or Asten’s and Ahmose’s second, or all three—was reminding myself that Asten was deteriorating rapidly. He needed to get to the cure. That was much more important than any perceived need to kill the pack of monster jackals.

  “Tell me what I need to know, right now!” I shouted to the group. “Tell me or your leader dies!”

  I stared at the circle of blinking yellow eyes until I noticed a movement on my right. A smaller jackal, a female, crept forward. We have no choice but to obey you, though my father fights against the coercion valiantly, she said.

  Howling pitifully, she crawled forward and pressed her head against the flanks of her father. He turned and snapped at her, grabbing hold of her leg and biting until she bled, but still she spoke. You must enter the Waters of Forgetfulness. Dive deep. When you emerge, you will find yourself in the Turquoise Forest.

  I heard a snap and the small jackal cried out. The father had broken his daughter’s leg. She collapsed and licked the blood from her broken limb.

  “One last thing,” I said as I bent to address the suffering pup. “Why haven’t you attacked yet?”

  We cannot, the little thing whimpered. Not while the arrow rests in our leader.

  The head beast snarled viciously and barked at his pack. They echoed his bark, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they came for us. Straightening up, I said, “Then we’d best go. Ahmose, get Asten to the water. I’ll join you momentarily.”

  The jackal’s hatred for me was tangible. I’ll rip open your belly and feast on your succulent insides while you watch, he promised, his jewel-like eyes never leaving mine. If the Devourer finds you first, she’ll stew your bones and toss me your boiled bowels for a treat. Either way, we’ll consume you.

  “No jackal”—I spat the word at the wounded beast—“will ever take me unawares.” With that, I took hold of the arrow and pushed it as deeply into his n
eck as it would go and then broke off the shaft, leaving the head embedded in his body. He collapsed in a heap, but he was still alive. I hoped he’d stay that way long enough for us to escape.

  The pack started barking wildly, a cacophony that I instinctually understood and feared. They would hunt us. Though they bowed to the power of Isis, they now served the Devourer. Unlike the reapers, this group of netherworld creatures would not assist us against the one they served.

  Keeping my back to the pool, my eyes trained on the shuffling animals who crept closer, I shifted one foot backward and then another. Within a few steps I was at the water’s edge, and without looking down, I moved deeper and deeper until the water lapped my chest. I hoped the water wouldn’t ruin my bows, but there was no other option I could think of than to just go through with it.

  For a few seconds I thought the jackals had tricked us, getting us into the most vulnerable position they could before attacking. But then I remembered the reapers. They’d said we’d get to the forest by finding the Fountain of the Jackals and following the path underneath. Diving beneath the pool was about as underneath as we could get. I took a deep breath and dove, Asten and Ahmose following close behind.

  Down, down, down I swam but still couldn’t find the bottom. I felt an arm scrape mine, but when I groped in the dark and looked in that direction, I saw nothing but blackness. Kicking my legs, I continued. Unlike what had happened in the Lake of Fire, my lungs began to tingle. Whatever it was we were looking for, we’d better find it soon. I blinked. What was it again?

  There was something we were seeking. We? Who are we? Why am I in water? Is this a dream? A nightmare? My mind was a blank slate. I screamed but cut it off quickly to save my air. Bubbles trickled from my mouth, heading down the way I was facing, not up. Paddling with my arms, I swam in a circle, searching for something, anything, to tell me where I was and how to get out.

  Then, all at once, a light flared near me. It took the shape of a man. He was handsome and strong, but his face indicated pain. He moved awkwardly in the water. I swam closer, yearning to help him, and as I did so, I forgot the twinge in my lungs. He watched me approach with a curious expression, but it was clear he didn’t know who I was any more than I knew him.