Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt) (22 page)

“Escape from here.” Nima’s answer came without conscious thought, as she stared down the torchlit hall. She gripped the carved bone handle of the knife, knuckles white, as she turned back to her patron goddess. “To reunite with Kamin.”

Renenutet nodded. “Time grows short for all things in this place. As you wish, take back the remaining snakes of Nebu and use them.”

“Forgive me, my lady, but I don’t understand. Use them how?”

Renenutet clasped her hand over Nima’s, and the snakes slithered one by one onto her wrist, where they reformed themselves into an elegant bracelet. The goddess’s fingers were icy cold, her grip strong. “Think what it is you wish each snake to be, to accomplish. Although you have forfeited two already, the final three may achieve your heart’s desire. Now listen carefully. There is a side gate to this fortress, where they send men two or three at a time to the river below this plateau, for water, to hunt game and the like. When you reach the main courtyard, turn left, and this single gate will be at the juncture of the walls.”

“Unguarded?” Nima asked.

Withdrawing her hand from Nima’s, the goddess smoothed down the intricate pleats in her iridescent gown. “You have a knife. You have my snakes. Nuit hung the full moon in her sky tonight, which will guide you to the river at the base of the plateau. Follow the river’s course to the Nile.” Green light blazed in the cell, surrounding Renenutet, who morphed into a giant black cobra between one heartbeat and the next. Golden hood flared out, she slithered around Nima’s body once, ruby-red tongue flickering to kiss Nima’s forehead. Then the giant serpent shot straight at the stone wall like an arrow. Renenutet disappeared into an impenetrable black inkiness just before she reached the barrier, the black cloud winking out as soon as her tail passed into the gloom.

Knees weak, Nima adjusted her grip on the knife and slunk into the hallway past the dead guard, afraid if she hesitated for even an instant she’d be found out. Or lose her courage. She made it to the courtyard without trouble, relieved that the goddess had made her ankle as good as new. The halls were empty, the soldiers in their barracks. Apparently, General Nebuchazz had no concerns about any internal threats. When she reached the parade ground, Nima paused in the shadow of a column and reconnoitered. The guards on the wall were patrolling, gazing out across the flanks of the mountain, but lax discipline seemed to be the rule elsewhere as the two men standing at the main gate were leaning on their spears and talking.

I should be able to reach the door the goddess described easily.
And I can wish one of these snakes into becoming the golden key.
Yet Nima didn’t move toward freedom. Fingering the knife, she glanced at the glittering ruby eyes of the snakes around her wrist and pondered. Once out of the fort, even after reaching the river, it was going to be a long, torturous hike to reach the Nile, much less to find her way to the capital city of Tentaris. Would the nomarch believe her wild story? And how would she ever locate Kamin, one soldier among thousands, in Pharaoh’s army? She stared at the stacks of shields and spears, the racked bows and full quivers. What Kamin would give to be here now,
inside
the fortress.

Decision made, Nima pushed away from the pillar, straightening her back.
Fire. Fire will cause them the most damage. And I know just the place to set the blaze.
Slinking through the shadows, she headed for the stables, going in the opposite direction of the door to her freedom.

The stable was warm, cozy, redolent of horses and leather. Bales of hay were stacked neatly in the loft above the stalls, just as Nima had hoped. Quickly, she went down the line of horses, untying the knots so the animals would have a chance to run before the fire got too well established. Then she hastened up the rickety ladder to the loft, taking a torch with her. Tossing the firebrand into the farthest corner, she jumped to the stable floor, her restored ankle easily bearing the shock of impact.

Running to the door, she shoved it open before slapping the rump of the nearest horse. Startled, the animal bolted into the courtyard, followed by the horses closest to it. Stepping out of the stampede’s path, Nima could hear the fire taking hold above her, hissing and roaring as flames exploded through the dry fodder. Memories of the burning inn at Hebenar rising in her mind, she scurried into the courtyard as men began shouting, and sleepy soldiers poured from the barracks, heading for the stable.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Nima made her way to the main gate, now abandoned by the guards caught up in the panic. Crouching in a shadow, she held the bracelet of snakes in her fingers. “Fire, I command you to become fire and burn this entrance, so the men of Egypt can enter when they arrive.” The little reptile hissed in her hand for a moment before disengaging from the other two snakes and slithering to the ground, becoming a rivulet of unearthly green fire as it went.

Satisfied, Nima sprinted along the wall, locating the single door right where Renenutet had said it would be. Breathing hard, she stared into the eyes of the next golden snake. “A key, I command you to become a key for this door!”

The snake wound its sinuous way down her outstretched hand to the keyhole in the single panel door, sliding into the opening and disappearing. Tiny golden sparks jetted out, and there was an audible click. Nima put her hand on the door to push it open just as there were shouts behind her.

“Stop that woman!”

Before she had a chance to open the door more than a few inches, she was grabbed from behind and yanked around to face a furious soldier. “Trying to escape in the chaos, slave?”

“Trying to kill all of you,” she said, stabbing him in the chest with the dagger.

Cursing, he dropped his grip on her, but the wound wasn’t a killing blow, apparently missing his heart. He staggered forward, grabbing her dress as he fell. Frantically, Nima tugged at the fabric, before kneeling to untangle his fingers or cut herself loose. She wasn’t given time as more soldiers ran up to seize her. Kicking, biting and fighting as hard as she could, she was no match for the well-trained warriors, who soon subdued her, one wrapping his belt around her wrists.

“This is no slave—she’s the Egyptian prisoner,” said the officer in charge when he glimpsed her face in the moonlight .
 

“The general’s dancer? How did she get out here?” asked the man next to him.

“The soldiers in the patrol said she was a witch.” Nima’s captor spoke up. She could feel a tremor run through his body, but his grip didn’t slacken.

“No Hyksos prison can contain me,” Nima said. She spat in the officer’s face. “You’re all going to die when the Egyptian army gets here.”

The officer wiped his face with the corner of his cloak. “Bitch! You’ll regret this night’s work soon enough. Take her to the general.”

***

Impatience and eagerness for battle burning through him, Kamin stared at the fortress, perched on a rise in the small valley below.
I know Nima’s in there, I can feel it
. He clenched his fist around the reins. Sensing his mood, the chariot horses took a step or two down the trail until he yanked them to a halt with one swift tug.

“Not yet,” he said.

His companion, Tiy-Ineb-Menhet , nomarch of this province, glanced at him. “Soon, my friend. The men are almost in position, and then we go.”

Who knows how much time she has left down there?
Urgency, underscored by an icy thread of fear, pounded in Kamin’s veins. He wasn’t afraid for himself. No member of Pharaoh’s Own Regiment went into combat with an unsettled mind. He’d long ago made peace with the idea of his own death, put it aside in his heart and mind so he could be at his most effective, undeterred by fear. He knew to the core of his being he could depend on his own skills and those of his comrades. Fate was in the gods’ hands. But Nima was another story entirely. She was no highly trained combat veteran. There was no one inside that hellish compound who would stand at her side, protect her.

Nima, I’m so close to you now. Hang on!

He assessed the massed troops he and the nomarch led. Closest to the chariot was the small unit of Pharaoh’s own men, sent to fight under Tiy’s command, some in chariots, some on foot.
The deadly tip of the spear
. Then the well-trained local troops, whipped into shape by Tiy and his officers from Thebes. They’d easily taken out the enemy sentinels along the trail, men grown lax and careless after so long in the desert with no real danger.

For the thousandth time, Kamin laid a hand on the small leather pouch attached to his belt, reassured at the touch of the special amulet waiting there, his intended gift to Nima. He refused to accept any idea she wasn’t alive in that grim keep across the valley.

The nomarch’s personal battle flag, the shield symbol overlaid with the cartouche of Horus, snapped and waved in the predawn breeze. A falcon shrieked overhead, but when Kamin tilted his head back to search for the bird, there was no sign of the aerial watcher.

“We’ll find her, sir, don’t worry,” said the grizzled sergeant standing next to the standard-bearer. “Every man in the ranks knows we’re looking for an Egyptian woman, a prisoner whose life must be preserved at all costs.”

Kamin nodded his thanks. Tiy had been thorough in posting an order listing preservation of Nima’s life as the top priority, just behind the defeat of the Hyksos army. Half smiling, he looked at the fortress again, remembering Nima drawing the map for him in the sand not so long ago.
She had it all correct, too, right down to the hills surrounding this place.

“What in the name of the gods is happening?” Kamin grabbed the nomarch’s arm and pointed as a huge plume of yellow and orange flames billowed over the fortress. Strange green fire lit up the gates.

 
“Could be your lady is causing chaos,” Tiy said.

An officer approached the chariot, saluting Tiy and Kamin. “We’re ready, sirs, battering ram in place.”

“We go then.” Tiy raised his arm, sword pointed defiantly at the sky, and brought it down to point at the enemy target ahead. “Charge!”

Trumpets blared. Cracking his long whip, Kamin gave his horses their heads and the chariot lurched into rapid movement down the mountain road, heading for the gates. Beside him, the Regiment’s best archer launched arrow after arrow toward the sentries walking the ramparts, taking out a man with each shot. More chariots swept down the road behind Kamin’s. The cart carrying the heavy battering ram rumbled along in their wake, soldiers trotting beside it, shields at the ready.

The burning gates fell outward off their hinges, and a small wave of enemy warriors boiled onto the small plain, clashing with the Egyptian troops in individual battles.

Funnel of death,
Kamin thought in grim satisfaction
. Rush out here one by one, you fools, and let us pick you off.

Unchallenged
,
Kamin drove the chariot through the entrance into the first ring of defenses. He and Tiy jumped down from the vehicle, swords and shields at the ready, and joined the battle. Confused Hyksos warriors who had been firefighting were slow to reach their weapons. The courtyard was tightly packed with chariots and other gear, which also impeded the defenders’ efforts. Loose horses galloped here and there, further compounding the chaos.

The archer stayed close to Kamin, as ordered, bow slung as he wielded his sword with deadly effect. Other men from the special unit fought to keep the Hyksos from overwhelming Kamin or the nomarch.

Screaming curses and orders, a Hyksos officer rallied his troops, sending men to weak points in the defenses. The voice of command drew Kamin’s attention.

Kamin thought he recognized Amarkash. “Son of a jackal!” Sword raised, jumping over bodies, dodging pairs of grim combatants, Kamin ran across the courtyard, intercepted by another enemy officer in a violent clash of swords and shields. The man fought well, thrust and parry and attack, but Kamin was desperate to get past him, to find out if it had indeed been Amarkash he’d glimpsed.
I can force him to reveal where Nima is, then wring the bastard’s neck.

Going on the offensive, his opponent raised his round leather shield, strangely shaped sword slashing at Kamin’s shield, denting the surface with the power of his blows.

Focus now, or this man in front of you will kill you and you’ll fail Nima.
Maintaining concentration in battle wasn’t normally a problem for Kamin, but today crippling fear gripped him. What if she already lay dead or dying?
 

Clearing his mind of doubt, he shoved the warrior away with a powerful punch just below the chin, using his own shield. Stepping forward, he launched a flurry of hacking blows, driving the officer first to his knees then to the ground, then slashing his neck right above the leather breastplate, the energy of combat and fear for Nima giving Kamin superhuman strength.

When he looked up, jerking his bloody sword free of the corpse, Kamin saw that Tiy had the battering-ram unit hard at work on the doors to the inner areas of the fortress. Arrows and debris rained down from the walls above, but the shield-bearers protected the men working the battering ram. Out of the corner of his eye, Kamin saw Amarkash break away.

“To me!” Kamin yelled at the Egyptian soldiers nearest him, gesturing with his bloody sword as he vaulted over dying men and ran into the fortress through the door Amarkash had used. Yet another courtyard awaited him, a third ring in the defenses, empty of foot soldiers, although arrows flew from the few archers left on the battlements. A huge portal barred the way to the main portion of the fortress. Breathing hard, blood trickling down his arm from a glancing sword wound, Kamin paused, assessing the situation.