The Lost Valor of Love

EPILOGUE

Horus heard her falling. With the last of his diminishing immortal power, he surged across the blinding blue skies toward the sound of her beating heart. An explosion of white light, brighter than the sun, pierced the sky's arc. It plunged from the heavens, a star, trailing the pure white light of the immortal realm. It slammed against the top of a dusty cliff in total silence, its brightness eclipsing the sun. The light melted away, revealing Baalat, lying on her side, silent and still, her gown fluttering in the wind.

He plummeted to her, transforming into his true form, hitting the ground running. The last of his immortal light trickled away, absorbed by the crushing pressures of the mortal realm. He staggered, shrieking with agony as he endured his final transformation into a mortal man.

It ended, after what felt an eternity. Panting, he stumbled over to Baalat and carried her out of the blistering sun into the meager shade of a stunted tree. Pillowing her head on his lap, he stroked her hair, waiting. Night fell. Stars blossomed one by one in the sky's canopy. Still, he waited.

Her eyes opened. She sat up and looked around, disoriented. She saw him, Horus, but not Horus. She touched his face, just as she had done hundreds of thousands of years before, when they had lived and loved in the world of gods and men. He caught her hand in his and pulled her against him, overwhelmed. Being mortal was remarkable, intense, terrifying.

"You followed me," he said, his heart tight.

"Yes," she whispered. "Always."

He made love to her, bathed in the light of the moon. Then, it came, abrupt, harsh, merciless. He held her as she endured her transformation, her perfect body shuddering as it succumbed to the pressures of the mortal realm, turning her into a flawed, fragile being. She rose, seeing the world anew.

"There is so much. Of everything," she breathed, rapt, her expressions shifting and changing, betraying the emotions cascading through her. "It is almost too much to bear, to feel so many different things all at once."

He caught the glimmer of the sun cresting the horizon and nodded at the sky. "Look what we have been missing."

They walked to the cliff's edge, reverent. She gazed, breathless, at the magnificent vista, awakening in the clean light of a newborn day. A vast river cut its way through an endless golden desert; its lush, green banks dotted with irrigated fields, low-roofed towns, white palaces, golden obelisks and airy temples.

She pointed, delighted, at a flotilla of skiffs racing along the river's waters, the sunlight playing across her diminished, yet still beautiful features. Catching a tendril of her hair drifting in the breeze, Horus reveled in the feel of its silken texture between his fingers, thrilled anew by the wonder of being alive.

Her fingertips touched his. "What shall we do now?"

He pressed his lips against her brow, savoring the feel of her skin, warmed by the sun. All around him, possibilities unfolded, endless, a thousand paths waiting to be explored, reminding him of the tattoos that had once rotated and shifted on his chest, never the same pattern twice.

"Nothing." He smiled, relishing the sudden uncertainty of his existence. "Everything."

❃

Confined within his apartment in the royal palace of Tarhuntassa, Urhi-Teshub stood by a burning brazier and stared at the pharaoh's unopened message in his hand. He pressed down on the seal. It split in half. The pieces fell away and shattered against the stone floor. He pulled the papyrus open and read its contents, the words brief, final: Prince of Hatti, find another queen.

Urhi-Teshub held the papyrus over the brazier. He let go. The words of Ramesses II, Pharaoh of Egypt fluttered down into the flames and ignited, burning bright for the merest heartbeat before crumbling into ash. Urhi-Teshub stared at the ashes, numb. He had committed treason to save Istara, would have gone to the gods if not for the intervention of his uncle, Hattusilis, the usurper.

His confinement had been bearable knowing Istara would be returned to him, but now, despite all he had done to keep her safe--

Enraged, he strode to the door and pounded against it, desperate to ride out, to find her and bring her home, where she belonged. Ramesses would not keep her. She was his, bound to him before the gods. He pounded harder, punching the door, venting his rage, bloodying his knuckles. He would burn Ramesses's cities, tear his vassal's kingdoms apart--

Urhi-Teshub lifted his head, quieting, sensing an opportunity presenting itself. He let it coalesce, waiting as it took shape. He smiled, cold. At last, a way out of his long imprisonment.

He called to the guards, demanding an audience with his uncle. He waited, his hands, warm and sticky with blood, resting on the hilts of his daggers. He would succeed. Whatever the cost, however long it would take. First, his freedom, then, his throne, and then--his queen.

Istara.

❃END OF BOOK I❃

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The Prologue for the second book, The Call of Eternity, awaits...