Reunited Page 6

  Dr. Hassan was jotting down notes as fast as humanly possible and sketching a crude drawing of the great beast. I could tell he had a thousand questions he was itching to ask. Nana had her hat pushed back and her fingers covering her mouth. I could almost hear the Well, I never! even though she was restraining herself from actually saying it. Gesturing to the two of them, I added, “We need a ride to Egypt. We’ve got to raise the mummies so they can help us battle the bad guy.”

  Unicorns are not packhorses to saddle up at will.

  I quickly backpedaled. The last thing I wanted to do was tick off a unicorn. “No, I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. Turning to Nana and Dr. Hassan, I added, “Better give us a minute.” They moved a ways off and waited, my grandmother whispering questions to Dr. Hassan.

  The unicorn turned as if preparing to leave.

  You are afraid, Nebu, Tia accused him.

  Tia! I mentally hissed, but she effectively ignored me.

  I fear nothing, he countered, spinning around. Even death cannot rip away my integrity.

  But you are unsettled, she insisted. There was a quiet moment as Tia processed what our senses were telling us. You…you fear the Unmaker, she finally said. The stench of it has settled on your coat. Do not think to deny it.

  The unicorn lifted his head to the sun as if seeking its blessing. When he lowered it, he said, This is a battle we cannot win. If Seth discovers I am helping you, he will unmake all of my children. I cannot risk it. I am their only protector.

  Sometimes protection means joinin’ the battle, Ashleigh said.

  Nebu stomped, then nudged us with his head, causing me to stagger slightly. The gods have already taken away my soul, the one I love above all others, and then they removed my alicorn. Why should I risk my family to help them? If you have a good reason, tell me.

  I was about ready to give Tia an I told you so—leave the unicorn be, when she said, I cannot justify the actions of the gods. Lions have suffered their punishment as well, but I am able to look outside myself and my pride. Can you not do the same?

  Bah. You have lived as a human for too long. You’ve begun to think like them, Nebu said. My children are all I live for, the only hope I have left. How can I endanger them? Avoiding the war and Seth’s wrath is the best counsel I can give the herd.

  I did not expect such cowardice from a unicorn.

  If I could have waved mental hands to shut her up, I would have. Tia and the unicorn obviously had a prior relationship, even if it was a volatile one. All I could do was sputter, cringe through their bantering, and hope she knew what she was doing. Even without an alicorn, a stallion that size could pound us into powder.

  Perhaps, then, you expect too much, the unicorn finally said. How do I attack without a horn? Without power? I am stunted. Bound in fetters. With what shall I fight?

  You fight with teeth and hoof. With strength of limb and strength of heart, like any other beast! Tia exclaimed.

  The unicorn cocked his head. Strength of heart. How can a heart be strong when it’s been broken? You’ve tasted first love, young lioness. It’s puffed you up with courage, possibility, and dreams. I wonder if the one you loved was lost, how eager you’d be to embrace your convictions then.

  That statement stopped me in my tracks. Whoa there. You’re in love, Tia? With who? When did this happen? I asked.

  She ignored me again.

  You are a great beast, Tia said, but great beings are not always wise. Make no mistake. Seth intends to destroy us all. Even should you survive to the last, he will come for you. And when he does, you will meet your death knowing you could have been a hero but that you chose the path of fear instead. You would rather hide in a burrow like a pitiful mouse trying to tunnel deeper while the snake lurks at your door, than risk death in the most glorious of hunts. You are not the creature I thought you were.

  We cannot win, lioness. He is too powerful.

  But, don’t you see, Nebu? It does not matter if we win or if we lose. We have no control over the manner of our death. We can only choose how we will live. Besides, winning does not make heroes. Heroes are born of those who strive.

  The fairy tree always told me, there’s safety in shelterin’ one another, an’ if we do that, we can endure anythin’. Won’t ya strive with us? Ashleigh asked hopefully. Please?

  The unicorn snorted and stomped as he spun and raced back to the tree. Then he kicked up his hind legs, shook his head, and trotted around us in a wide circle. Finally, he came back to me and touched his nose to my shoulder. When I reached up to pet his neck, he closed his eyes and sighed softly. Very well, he said finally. I will go with you and I will ask two of my children who would be willing volunteers to help your elders. The rest of the herd will remain in hiding. I will not endanger them. I hope you are right. For all our sakes.

  I’m glad to see you have regained at least some of your horse sense.

  I am as removed from a horse as you are from a housecat, I’ll remind you. I’ll thank you to show me the respect I deserve.

  When you do something to deserve it, I will do so.

  “Thank you,” I said quickly, patting the beast’s shoulder, hoping to interrupt the argument.

  The unicorn shook out his mane. You are welcome, Lily. Come, let’s raise Egypt’s Sons. Lifting his head, he whistled, the sound an eerie, chilling pitch that made my heart flutter in my chest. Within the space of two heartbeats, we heard the ghostly gallop of otherworldly creatures.

  A golden mare and another stallion leapt from the heart of the tree and approached their leader, nickering and flicking their heads up and down. I retrieved Nana and led her to the mare, linking my fingers together to give her a boost. Nana threaded her fingers in the sparkling mane and patted the sleek neck of the beast.

  “Her name is Zahra. She likes you,” I told her. “She says she appreciates having an experienced rider.”

  “Lily,” Nana said, bending down. “I thought they were unicorns.”

  “They are.”

  “Then where are their horns?”

  “Tia tells me it’s a long story. She’ll fill you in later, but suffice it to say, they were cut off.”

  “Cut off? Oh, you poor beast. Don’t you worry yourself none about that. You’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever had the pleasure to ride, not to disparage old Bob. He’s a good horse. But you’re much more than a horse, aren’t you, honey?”

  I left Nana to sweet-talk her unicorn and helped Dr. Hassan, who was nowhere near as comfortable climbing on the back of a unicorn as Nana was.

  “His name is Kadir,” I told him. “He says if you hold to him tightly and keep your legs clasped to his side, he won’t let you fall.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll endeavor to do my best,” Dr. Hassan said.

  I was about to leave when Tia suggested I give him a warning. “Tia says you might want to put your hat in your bag. If you lose it on this journey, there will be no going back to retrieve it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Even as he said it, he took off his precious hat, ran his hand through his thick white hair, and gave it some serious consideration.

  I took hold of the unicorn’s mane and kicked up onto his back with relative ease. You don’t remember me at all, Lily? the beast asked as I settled.

  No, I’m sorry.

  So am I. I’d like to think our time together was notable.

  I have no doubt it was, I said.

  Still, there’s something to be said for getting a second chance at a first impression.

  With that, the unicorn reared up, beating the air with his shiny hooves, and raced headlong toward the opening in the tree. It looked entirely too narrow to fit the width of his body, but in the time it took for me to raise my hand up to protect myself from the impact, we were through.

  Everything turned inside out, like the whole world was now a negative-exposure photo. The bright countryside, which had had an almost Sunday-morning sweetness, had become cold and dim. It was as if everythi
ng wholesome and good in the world had been siphoned away, leaving only the moldering, unwanted bits lying beneath. We were galloping through a grove of trees, but instead of leafy tops bursting with growth, the trunks were barren and skeletal, their long limbs stretching upward as if they begged the cold blue moon above for death.

  Where there would normally be a farm with crops, I spied fields of blood that provided the only color in the otherwise bleak landscape. As we grew closer, they were actually covered with tiny crimson flowers, but that fact didn’t make me feel any better. Ashleigh and Tia shared my concern. Then, tiny snowflakes began to fall, but instead of melting when they touched the warmth of my skin, they burned like hot ash.

  Unicorn, what is this place? I asked, chilled by the fact that I couldn’t hear a single bird or leaf stirring on the wind. The woods were hushed, and it was as if the countryside languished in an eternal midnight, when only the dead ventured out.

  Call me Nebu, the stallion replied. This path is not one I would normally choose, but it is what you would call a shortcut. I thought it best to take the Road Less Traveled so that we might avoid unwanted attention.

  The Road Less Traveled. A terrible sense of foreboding took hold of me, the feeling a razor-sharp spearhead twisting in my gut. I shivered, frightened of what lay ahead. Cold seeped into my skin, and I lifted the fur-lined hood over my head, expressing gratitude to Ashleigh for coming up with the idea.

  Hassan and Nana were quiet as they galloped along on either side of me. Even my inner companions were silent. We continued without rest for several hours. Finally, when I thought Nebu might stop, giving us a break, he informed us that we were close to our destination. The path narrowed, and the trees around us, thick with wintry mosses, laced their fingers together overhead, becoming more and more intertwined until we could no longer see the dreary sky peeking through.

  We raced through the ever-darkening tunnel. The jagged limbs of the trees jutted out like a mass of sharp, protruding teeth, causing the dim path to look like an openmouthed hungry monster. Then we plunged through the very center of its mouth and hit an almost viscous barrier.

  As we fell through the other side, I felt the warmth of the sun touch my body before I could see anything. It hurt my cold skin, but it was painful in almost a good way, like sinking into a too-hot bath. Gravity shifted, and just as we burst into a morning sky I realized that we were high above what I presumed was Egypt below, and we were falling.

  Wind rushed around me, and I heard Nana and Hassan call out just as Nebu snapped open his heavy wings. We leveled off, and Ashleigh whooped with such delight that I was able to let go of my fear and appreciate the flight along with her, even though my thighs burned from gripping Nebu’s sides. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to untangle my fingers from his mane.

  Hassan must have given his unicorn instructions, because we banked and turned toward the east, where the sun had just crossed over the horizon, tingeing the land pink and orange. We touched down on the desert sand, far away from any of the modern cities of Egypt. Giant carved stones littered the ground where there must have once been a temple. They were piled up like lost puzzle pieces, their secrets long ago forgotten and yet to be discovered.

  “Where are we?” I asked as I tried to walk off the wobbly feeling in my legs. Even Nana, as experienced as she was, seemed a bit worse for wear after our ride.

  Hassan was so eager to get us where we needed to go that he actually stumbled from his mount. We helped him up, and he gave a sheepish look at Nana before he answered, “We’re at an old abandoned temple about forty-five minutes outside of Luxor. I brought the boys here and was going to move two of them to other hidden locations, but I haven’t had the time yet. As you know,” he said, giving me a meaningful glance, “we’ve been rather occupied as of late.”

  He dropped his bag near one of the still-upright structures. It fell in the sand like bread dough on a floured board. Sepia dust puffed up around it in a cloud, falling softly around us, coating our shoes. The first thing he did when he opened his leather satchel was remove his hat and place it on his head.

  Good call, I said to Tia.

  Hassan next took a tool from his bag and carefully touched it to a series of hieroglyphs, cleaning the rock’s surface with a soft brush before pressing the last one. The rock shook, dust falling like a cascading waterfall around it, and it shifted away, revealing an opening.

  “Follow me,” Hassan said as he replaced his tools and gathered up his bag. We descended into the dark space underground, and the temperature dropped at least fifteen degrees in the course of a few steps. Tall, carved columns held up what was left of the temple ceiling above, casting deep shadows over what little light came in from the opening. I traced my hands along the stony surface and blinked quickly as my eyes adjusted. An eerie greenish tint lit the room, and I could easily make out my surroundings.

  The stone opening above us closed, and yet even without light I could see. Night vision? I asked Tia.

  Lions naturally see better than humans in the dark, she replied.

  Nana stumbled against me, and I held out a hand to help her. I guided Hassan with my voice, telling him how many more steps he had left, and then a shaft of light pierced the darkness as he turned on a flashlight.

  When we got to the bottom, he guided us to a room and proceeded to light torches. Even before he did, I could easily make out the shapes in front of me. Three coffins, ornately carved and painted, rested on raised daises. When Hassan lit the first torch, my vision shifted from night vision, which was sort of a play on shades of greenish gray, to the full color spectrum.

  They were magnificent.

  I wanted to reach out and touch the polished wooden sarcophagus nearest me and trace the brightly painted scarab adorning its surface. Walking around it, I frowned as I studied the depiction of a battle by the pyramids embellished on the side. My eyes narrowed when I saw a girl standing with a boy on top of a pyramid. On the lid of the coffin, where a mummy would have crossed arms with a face in repose, I saw not one but two figures wrapped in one another’s embrace.

  The female had long, dark hair with streaks of blond running through. Her face was in profile and covered half of the male’s image, but unlike her, he had been painted looking straight ahead. One dark eyebrow, as elegant as the sweep of a painted bird in flight, drew low over a brilliant green eye that seemed to look right through me. Behind him, haloing his head, was a sun. His full lips were pressed together like there was something he needed to say but couldn’t. What a beautiful tabernacle to house a dead man’s bones.

  “This is Amon,” Dr. Hassan said. “You must use your power to summon him. We can’t call him forth like we did before because neither of us possesses the Eye of Horus.”

  “Even if I knew what that was, I wouldn’t remember how to use it.”

  “You can do this, Lily,” he said. “It’s just like calling the hellhound. You just need to figure out his true name.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? I have to look into someone’s soul first. Tia already knew the hellhound’s name, and this guy’s not exactly here to give me any clues.”

  Dr. Hassan thought about this for a minute. “Perhaps it would help to see him.”

  He began to shift the lid of the sarcophagus, and a kind of horror seized me.

  “Oscar,” Nana said, gently taking hold of his wrist, “I’m not sure this is the best idea.”

  Pausing, he glanced at her and then peered at me. “You’ve seen them in their decomposed forms before.”

  “Maybe I did, but I don’t remember.”

  Nana pressed, “Even so, she didn’t love him then.”

  I shuffled my feet. “Technically, I don’t love him now either, so…I guess if you think it will help.”

  Nana gave me a pitying glance but nodded and came over, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Goose bumps shot down my limbs when the lid fell to the floor with a heavy thunk. Gently, Dr. Hassan peeled away the wrappings that c
overed the face of the dead man and gestured me closer. “It’s really not bad,” he said. “Anubis has a lot of experience in preserving the flesh.”

  Swallowing thickly, I replied, “Good to know,” and took a few halting steps forward. Beneath the white wrappings was a face. Even in death, the chiseled features were handsome. He looked like a grayish carved statue of an Egyptian god, and I understood why I might have been attracted to him. I tried as hard as I could, but I couldn’t remember a single thing about the man lying there.

  What did his voice sound like? Was he a serious person? Melancholy? Did we have anything in common? Did he have a sense of humor? I couldn’t imagine the two of us fitting together in any kind of situation. Surprisingly, Tia said nothing. Apparently, she wanted me to try to figure all this out on my own.

  “Can you do it?” Hassan asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “I’ll try,” I whispered.

  He indicated that when the breath of sife—whatever that was—stirred, then Nana should help him release the mummy’s powers by opening the canopic jars he’d stored inside a neat little opening at the base of the sarcophagus. When they were ready, Hassan gave me a nod.

  Tia and Ashleigh merged their minds with mine, and I closed my eyes. Stretching out my arms, I felt our power fill my frame. In the voice of Wasret, I cried out, “Amon.” I sucked in a breath. “I summon you from the afterlife. Return to your mortal form. Use my energy to guide you. Come to us!”

  We waited, but nothing happened. I lifted my head and called him by another name, one that Tia supplied. “Revealer, we call you. Come forth!”

  Again there was no change. Tia and Ashleigh broke off. “It’s not working,” I said.

  Perhaps it is because you cannot remember him, so you cannot discern his true name, Tia suggested.

  But isn’t that our power?

  Yes, but we struggled ta find the true name of the Devourer, too, Ashleigh added.

  Maybe it would be easier if we start with Asten, Tia offered.