Chapter 18 #2
“She will weaken. She always does. When her power fails, kill her and throw her body into the Temple of Night where it belongs. Then follow me and the rest of the army north.” He mounted his horse in a single fluid motion, his crimson cape flapping in the wind at his back.
“As for the rest of you,” Setnakht said to the few remaining ushabti in the courtyard, “Ensure that this city is emptied; then stand at the gates to make sure none return.”
With a whip of the reins, Setnakht drove his steed into a gallop and was soon flying down the main road out of the city.
Taking slow, deliberate steps, Shesmu repositioned himself in front of Sita.
She had never purposefully harnessed the power of heka before, so Sita didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to maintain the circle.
Given how quickly the light was fading, it wouldn’t be very long.
Behind her, Aya buried her face in Elyas’s chest, heedless of the blood soaking his tunic.
It cannot end like this, Sita thought, staring at the green copper blade gripped in the butcher’s hand. Not after everything that’s happened…
The courtyard was still. The hopeless moans of the mortally wounded had gone quiet forever, and the other ushabti had left to root out any stragglers from the streets.
Sita gazed at Karim’s body, held upright by the spears that had run him through. He was kneeling, as if frozen in a moment of supplication. Where are the gods now? she wondered. Have they led us here only to abandon us to this fate?
She remembered Karim’s smile. His hand in hers as they danced. His kiss.
If she’d known it was to be their last, she would have told him—
Sita blinked. Was she imagining it, or had Karim’s hand moved?
The interruption in her concentration caused the circle of light to flicker.
She focused on Karim, begging him to somehow do the impossible. “I need you,” she whispered. “Come back to me.”
The thief’s arm hung at his side. Then, with what looked like immense effort, it lifted.
Sita watched, transfixed, as Karim reached for the spear in his side and tore it free, dropping it to the dust. Straightening his back, he gripped the haft of the spear in his chest with both hands and pulled it from his body with a grunt.
Then, using it for support, he rose to his feet and turned to face her, the last spear still lodged in his body.
His eyes flashed with that otherworldly light.
Sita gasped, the shock stealing away the last of her endurance. Her concentration broken, the protective circle pulled in on itself, the light receding and withdrawing back into the staff.
Shesmu raised his knife.
“Karim!” Sita screamed.
Spear in hand, Karim released a battle cry and sprinted toward them. Midstride, he pulled the final spear from his body, drove it into the ground, and used the momentum to vault himself into the air at the stone butcher.
Shesmu turned as Karim flew toward him, a spear in each hand.
Karim’s feet struck the butcher full in the chest, the force driving Shesmu back.
The butcher fell to the ground and landed with an earthshaking boom that sent a tremendous dust cloud into the air.
When the dust cleared, Karim was standing on top of the stone warrior, his chest heaving.
Then he drove a spear through each of the stone man’s shoulders with mighty force, pinning him to the dirt.
Karim jumped clear of Shesmu’s slashing blade and bounded over to Sita. “Can you walk?” he asked. “We need to go quickly. Those spears won’t hold him long.”
Sita stared at him, agape. Karim’s clothes were torn, but there was no blood. “I-I don’t understand…” she stammered.
“I don’t either,” Karim admitted. “But now isn’t the time to figure it out. You heard Setnakht. Shesmu won’t stop until you’re either dead or gone. Let’s make sure it’s the latter.”
Over Karim’s shoulder, Sita saw Shesmu writhing and tugging at one of the spears, levering it out of his body. Karim was right. If they didn’t get beyond the city limits, Shesmu would hunt them down. And neither she nor Karim might have any strength left to stop him.
“I can walk,” she said. “Elyas is injured but alive. Can you carry him?”
Karim beamed. “Sena, I’m pretty sure I can do anything!” He bent down. “Go with Sita,” he said to Aya. “I will get your sabba to safety. I promise!”
Aya looked at him in wonderment and nodded. Sita took the girl’s hand as Karim gently lifted Elyas and positioned the old man’s body over his back.
“Time to go,” Karim grunted, and gave Sita a nod before breaking into a sprint.
***
They tore through the streets of Perset, and what seemed like mere moments later, there was an earsplitting roar behind them, which Sita knew could only mean that Shesmu had broken free of his bondage and was in pursuit.
“We’re almost there!” Karim assured them as they neared the edge of the city. Still, the thunderous footsteps and the sounds of wanton destruction were getting closer with every passing second.
“Don’t stop, Aya!” Sita urged as the girl’s steps began to falter. “Only a little farther!”
Aya screamed as part of a mud-brick house exploded behind them, sending debris flying through the air and into their backs. Sita glanced over her shoulder. Shemsu was at their heels, his fists leveling the ancient structures as he passed them.
Up ahead, Sita saw the last few ruined houses, and beyond them, the gentle slope of the valley rising to meet the Red Desert.
Karim hit the slope first, with Sita and Aya close behind.
Their speed decreased as they climbed, and more than once the loose sand sent them sliding down again before they recovered their footing.
Then Aya tripped and could not be coaxed to her feet. Sita stopped, panting and dripping sweat as the late afternoon sun beat down on them. She pushed the staff into the back of her belt, hoisted the girl into her arms, and continued forward.
When Sita risked another look back at the city, Shesmu was standing motionless at the perimeter.
It was as she and Karim had hoped—Shesmu and the ushabti had no free will.
They could only follow Setnakht’s instructions, nothing more.
Once Sita left Perset’s borders, it was as if she no longer existed.
As they watched, Shesmu turned on his heel and made his way north through the city.
“We’re safe, sena,” Karim told Sita. “Stop and take a breath.”
“He’s taking the north road out of Perset with the rest of the army,” Sita said. Her relief at their deliverance was momentary and fleeting. She turned to Karim. “Setnakht is leading them to Khetara.”
***
After a brief respite, they continued their journey. They’d almost crested the slope of the valley and would soon find themselves back in the desert. With Aya still in her arms, Sita’s pace slowed to a crawl. Even Karim, whose vigor seemed inexhaustible, was showing signs of fatigue.
After a few minutes of walking, Elyas stirred. “Put me down, I beg of you,” he murmured. Karim stopped and opened his mouth to protest, but Elyas didn’t give him the chance. “Please.”
Karim relented and carefully set the old man on his feet. His tunic was a ruin from what looked like a stab wound to the shoulder, and his face had been battered. He wavered, holding on to Karim’s arm.
“Here,” Sita said. She set down Aya and tore a long strip of cloth from the bottom of her dress. She wrapped it under Elyas’s arm and over his opposite shoulder several times, and then she tied it tight. “That should help stanch the bleeding until we reach the rest of the tribe.”
Elyas raised a knuckle to his nose in thanks. “Who was that man, that rider?” he asked. “Was it he who created those stone demons?”
Karim nodded. “He was the founder of your city, a Khetaran long since dead. Through magic and blood, he’s returned to conquer this land once again.”
“I swear, we will tell you all we know,” Sita added. “But first we must get you to your people and tend to that wound.”
“We can never go back, can we?” Elyas’s voice was a whisper.
Sita and Karim said nothing.
Elyas breathed deeply. “Allow me to look upon our home one last time.”
Together, they turned to face what was left of the city in the verdant valley below. The old man shook his head in despair. “I have failed them. I have failed my people. The very thing I feared most has come to pass, despite everything I’ve done to prevent it.”
Sita placed a hand on Elyas’s good shoulder. “The city may be lost, but the Hudjefa are not comprised of houses and land. The Hudjefa endure. They are flesh and blood, and they await you on the other side of this hill.”
Karim said, “It’s true, sen. Your people still need you.”
Elyas stared into Karim’s face with something like reverence. “I watched you die. Yet here you stand, unharmed.” He looked over at Sita. “And you…that light… Are you god’s messengers? If so, what have we done to deserve such punishment as this?”
Sita wondered at his words. Had Khnum, creator of the Oracle of the Lamb, intended for this desert tribe to be subsumed into an otherwise Khetaran crisis?
Or was it not a Khetaran crisis, but a human one?
She spoke, “Our gods do not share a name, but perhaps they share a desire for us to work toward a common cause. I do not believe the loss of your people is divine retribution, Elyas. I believe it must be the spark that lights an enduring flame—one that must not be extinguished, no matter how bitter the days ahead may be. You must not lose hope.” She paused, feeling the steadying weight of the staff at her back.
“In profound darkness, the smallest star can be a beacon.”
Elyas gazed down at his city for a long time. Aya stood by him, then laced her fingers into his. “Come on, Sabba,” she said. “We should go now. I’ll walk with you.”
The old man smoothed the girl’s wild mane, his face tight with emotion. “All right, my dearest. We’ll go.”
“Are you certain you don’t want me to carry you the rest of the way?” Karim asked.