Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) (26 page)

“We cannot hold the Apepis off for long,” Pentu said. “The energy from their consumption of spirits regenerates them.”

“Merit-Aten, you must say that ritual backwards,” my father ordered.

“Hurry.”

I recounted my prayer, remembering each word so that I could repeat it in reverse. An Apepi nearly swooped in to devour me. It smelled like rotting eggs and its red eyes looked like flames, but the light from Pentu’s staff averted it.

Pentu hit one hard. It plunged into the Nile. “Hurry! We do not have much time.”

I forgot the words. I couldn’t find the prayer on the scroll. Golden jags of lightning thrown from the heavenly filament pierced the Apepians, but the demon worms wouldn’t die.

“Merit-Aten, you know the words. Say them now,” Netri commanded.

Instead, I froze.

T
hat Apepi screeched right toward me. It undulated in dizzying maneuvers and those red eyes penetrated my soul.

“Hurry, Beloved, you must say those words,” said Netri as he pleaded with his eyes.

I cowered against the boathouse wall then crawled inside. My fingernails scraped the golden paint. My chin shook. I couldn’t face that demon. My magic just wasn’t strong enough to exterminate this legendary adversary.

“Pentu!” yelled Father. “Your staff! Bring the Atenic light through it! I shall try to find the prayer she used.”

Pentu thrust up the rod. “Curse you Apepis. Come here, you flying river rats. I will scale you then send you tail first back to the underworld!” He swung that staff and slammed the beast into the water.

I gasped at his outburst as I peered through a crack in the deckhouse. Showers of blue rain from the cosmos penetrated the ashy skies and created a protective womb around each spirit as the barge trudged through the thick river. The sky lit up and the piercing screeches of the impaled snakes fell into the abyss making violent waves. They slapped the Nile with angry tails, forcing the water to overturn us.

Our barge rocked from side to side. The nausea and motion sickness returned. I retched but my stomach was empty so the pains racked my body. Sweat dotted my forehead. Bitterness burned my throat. The waves splashed on deck. My father and Pentu braved the watery force as they engaged in a battle to the death with the last of the determined Apepis.

Meti clung to a table. “Merit-Aten, get down low and hang on.” I had failed. This new horror was all my fault. How did I ever think I could restore peace to Khemit and save my family when I endangered them? Covering my face, I sank to the depths of despair. The Celestial Lords should never have picked me.

The Helmsman cracked a whip. “Row!”

We picked up speed as we raked through the choppy water, leaving the monsters behind. As we neared the curve of the river, the boathouse door opened and there stood Netri and Pentu, drenched and shivering. They breathed a relieved sigh.

“Daughter,
The Calling Forth of the Wested
is dangerous. We cannot free souls in this quantity. They will kill us.” Netri’s eyes narrowed, his face tight.

“The Apepians?”

“No, the Amunites. You broke an ancient custom, one that forbids the Sesh into Amentii.”

“You could not have known the consequences, but we all could have perished,” said Pentu.

I was astonished. “The Sesh cannot go to the heavenworld? I am sorry. I only tried to help. I just wanted to free the wested.”

“Magic is precarious. You are too young to be dabbling in things you cannot understand,” replied Father as he crossed his arms.

The Master Oarsman hollered, “Mycenaean trade vessel off the starboard bow!”

“Pentu, we should see if they need help,” said Netri.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied the physician.

They raced to the right side of our barge. I peeked out the deckhouse window. A foreign midsized three-masted ship was thrust out of the water like a giant fish flopping upon the land. How could a ship snap in two like a dried carob pod? The stern sunk into the murky depths and bloated red-tuniced soldiers stained the waters.

“Too late. All have wested,” cried the Helmsman as we sailed by this devastation. I had heard of Mycenae but had never seen their people.

As our barge pulled into dock, the fishermen waded into the waist-high waters to drag the ropes to shore. Men on rafts hauled out the corpses and stacked them high. I covered my nose and mouth with my linen wrap to avoid the stench and flies. An arm floated by.

“Merit-Aten, step into this boat and you will be rowed ashore. Hasten,” Meti said.

“Pentu and Ra-Mesu will take you to Karnak to make a royal appearance while I attend to the Aten blessing of the wested at the Gem-pa-Aten,” said Netri. “Take guards for protection. With so much unrest in the streets, men do foolish things. The Sesh must know we are alive.”

We took a palanquin to the temple. For the first time, the disharmony among the Amun priests toward us became evident. We received no welcoming looks; instead they met us with angry whispers and judging eyes. Their resentment appeared as heavy as the ash. Grasping their amulets, some uttered protection prayers while others held their ankhs out to curse us.

They believed we caused this earthcrack and wave. Superstitions could turn sheep into wolves. When in fear, people emerged as the victims of every ill thing within their own lives. We rode past white-sheathed men and a gob hit my face. He spat at me.

“Longhead,” he sneered.

I whimpered and wiped the goo from my cheek, trying to hide my embarrassment. How did I bring on this woe? Longhead? Could he have meant me? Tortured with humiliation, the elusive knife of words plunged into me. I refused to look at anyone, fearing I would suffer their condemnation.

Pentu-Aten wrapped his arm about me while General Ra-Mesu thrust out his chest and stared them down. It was the Amunites who attacked the Ben Ben stone, which broke the grid of harmony of all Khemit. Why blame me or my family for their sorrows?

Meti pulled me close, and the guards surrounded us.

As we moved deeper into the inner realms of Karnak, the Amun priests herded a group of men, women and children bound in chains into cages.

Temple workers flogged and cursed them. Covered in ash, they looked like tortured souls walking the ends of earth.

Many had patches of black skin peeking through the filth, while others had yellow skin. Something glistened. A beacon of light in a dark sea of ashen faces. A child, just a wing’s tip older than I, marched along. The boy with eyes the color of azure glanced at me not even long enough to be counted as a moment. However, those eyes I would never forget.

I tugged her sleeve. “Meti, what are they doing to them?”

“I do not know.” She clapped her hands. The head guard, a tall rugged man, greeted us.

“Yes, Mistress of the Land, how may I serve you?” he said and prostrated himself with hands flung out.

“Why are these people bound?” asked Meti.

“Slaves, my Lady,” replied the guard.

“What will happen to them?” she asked.

“They will either be sold as house servants to the Amun officials or they will…” His voice trailed off. I strained to hear. The guard caught himself.

“Will what?” demanded Meti. “These poor souls will be offered to Amun,” said Ra-Mesu.

Pentu-Aten sat forward and said, “Heka maintains the divine order by using the creative force that permeates all living things. But I have a feeling he means the black magic rites of the secret sect.”

“Explain,” said Meti.

“The sacrificial slaves will be hit with the Hammers of Amun. Then their pineal glands will be consumed in a ritualistic feast,” said Pentu with a look of disgust.

I stammered, “Why would anyone want to eat a human?”

“Ingesting of the pineal gland brings eternal life,” said Pentu.

“The Hanuti tell these slaves they will receive great honors in the afterlife for having given this pathetic life to Amun,” said Ra-Mesu with a sneer.

“Absurd,” Meti snapped, her body now rigid with rage. “You there, slave trader.” She pointed her finger at the short man wrapped in a loincloth who wielded his flogger with menace. “Let these people go.”

The man turned to her, his expression fearless and disrespectful. “I serve Amun. I captured these slaves by my own hands. The scourge of Khemit do not own land nor pay taxes, so by the law of Amun they have no rights. We rounded up these scavengers before they could commit crimes upon our people.”

Meti walked toward the prisoners with head held high. “And what crimes did this elder commit?” she pointed to a Nubian woman. “How many citizens of Khemit has she beaten? What about all these children?” “Orphans now, the lot of them,” replied the slave trader. I caught up with Meti and showed her the boy whose eyes penetrated my soul.

Meti marched to the barefoot boy in a torn red tunic. “What crime has this fledgling been accused of?”

“Found swimming near that shipwrecked trade vessel. He cannot even speak our tongue. Mycenaean barbarians might murder us in our sleep and steal our consorts,” argued the slave trader, his veins bulging in his fury.

“Bring him forward,” Meti ordered.

The slave trader grabbed the boy and threw him at our feet. The child glared at us, showing no fear. I admired his courage in the face of certain death.

“I do not believe this little Mycenaean will break into a demesne,” said Meti.

“Most of the barbarians drowned, but I pulled this imp out of the Nile.”

“Verily, I claim this child and the rest will go free with my blessings,” she stated. “I shall remove them so they cannot commit any crimes.” The slave trader quaked. “I cannot show up before the Amun priests empty-handed.”