The Rise of the Goddess

12 | TYRN

His heart heavy, Horus looked at Tyrn. A bird. He had thought he might overcome Marduk with a bird, when Sethi was seeking a weapon which had once belonged the dark aspect of the Creator. A weapon which consumed the light of the gods. Baalat had shared—just once—of her end and Istara's transition at the threshold of Surru. Istara had to be here, there was no where else she could be. Even through his hateful possession, Sethi would know it; his bond to his consort was indestructible. Horus let out a thin breath, unable to conceive of doing such a thing to Baalat. Sethi was far gone if he intended to destroy his own consort.

"Do you know where the jihn is?"

"I have an idea," Zherei muttered, unhappiness seeping from him. "More of a logical conclusion, since there is only one place in Elati which has remained uninhabited since the time of the gods." He paused, bleakness surrounding him. "The region is vast. It will take time, unless of course, he can sense its presence once he is near enough to it, then it will take no time at all."

"Where is it?" Horus repeated, swivelling to face him. "Sethi is not the only god in Elati—there is another, a goddess, his consort. I suspect he intends to use it on her, to prevent her from rising against him."

Zherei caught his breath. "If you know such things, who are—?"

"It's better for your sake if you don't know," Horus said, cutting a look at Sethi, considering him in a new light. Perhaps the influence over him wasn't only Marduk's doing after all, perhaps there was more to this than met the eye. Horus felt far out of his depth. He longed for the chance to speak with Thoth about what Zherei had revealed. The Creator was both dark and light. He had always believed the Creator to be good, and yet, why not? What else could explain the darkness in the hearts of men? He loosened the straps of the gauntlet. "Tell me where it is."

"I suspect if it is anywhere, it will be in Anki," Zherei said. When Horus looked at him, blank, Zherei jerked his head toward the east, "It's an island in the middle of the Adriande Sea. It was once the home of the gods. None go there, not even the seafaring clans of Kium's savages. All nations believe the isle to be cursed."

"If that thing is there, Anki must be an unpleasant place."

Zherei nodded, bleak. "I once met a bankrupted merchant who claimed a raging storm surrounds the island. Every one of the boats in his fleet apart from his own were driven toward the island by strong winds and smashed against its cliffs."

"You must not tell Sethi where you think it is," Horus said. He hefted the gauntlet with the falcon from his arm onto Zherei's and retied the straps, "It is vital he does not find it."

"But the prophecy," Zherei muttered, lifting his arm to admire Tyrn. "One cannot stop what is meant to be."

"We can try," Horus said. "Just send him on wild chases, play the fool. Do what you must to buy us time."

"I'll try," Zherei sighed. He eyed Marduk's ship again, wary. "However, I imagine if he is able to traverse the skies in a wonder like this, he also has things which can persuade a man to speak the truth against his will." He ran a reverent finger along Tyrn's breast. "And why have you given me Tyrn?"

"The queen requires a task of you," Horus said. He fished out Tyrn's scroll case from his pouch and handed it to Zherei. "This ties to Tyrn's leg, make sure it's secure before you set her free."

"And why am I taking her with me, if only to set her free?"

"Because you are going to send the queen a message."

Zherei lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed? And what shall this message be?"

"Where you are."

"Ah," Zherei nodded. He shot a look of triumph at Sethi's back and tucked the scroll case in amongst his satchel of scrolls. "It is fortunate I am able to navigate by the constellations. Inform our good queen I shall not let her down."

Horus clasped Zherei's thin shoulder. "May the Creator protect you."

Zherei met Horus's eyes, then dropped his gaze to Horus's hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps he already does," he said, soft.

Horus backed into the gardens, watching, grim, as the captive servants loaded the ship. When the last of it had been stowed inside, twelve tear-stained, disheveled women crept up the steps, silent, broken, into the dark interior. Zherei went in last, stroking Tyrn's feathers as though she were his own companion. In the numb, thick silence of the gardens, Sethi turned and strode down the steps of the terrace, across the ruined game board and into the ship. The steps retracted back into the wall and the door slid closed.

A blast of heat and fire, and the ship lifted straight up into the deep blue of the sky, rising, steady, until it loomed over the tallest towers. It turned toward the east and shot away in a cone of brilliance, thundering, deep, resonant. Then. Nothing. Zherei, the women, the servants, Tyrn, gone.

That night, Horus held Baalat against him and thought of the jihn, and of Istara, and of what he must endure to stop the one his light had become.