Trueth rushed into the garden and made a beeline for the delicacies Metjen's mother had prepared for the occasion.
He swung his legs out of the hammock he had been dozing in and observed his friend with amusement. He knew only too well how it felt when one came back from the temple and the visions of decent food became reality.
By the time he had sauntered across, she had demolished a chicken leg and was reaching for the hummus.
'This is heaven,' she said, licking her lips.
'No,' Metjen responded. 'I'm sure you're still alive. Have some lamb kebab.' He pushed a skewer across and helped himself to the koshary.
'Is that enough, or do you need more?' Mother had joined them and examined the disaster zone on the table with a worried frown. 'I can offer you a rose cake?'
'No, thank you Mrs. Al-Nour, I'm full.' Trueth wiped her lips on a linen napkin, smearing sauce onto her cheeks.
Metjen sighed and picked up the cloth. 'May I?' He rubbed her cheek, but she batted him away.
As his mother re-entered the living room, she triggered the obligatory howling from behind the screen. Metjen rose and walked across to pick up Mish-Mish and place him on Trueth's lap. The cat would now perch there for at least the next half hour, purring peacefully and showing his relaxation by threading needle-sharp claws into her jeans. That might calm her down.
'Phew, I needed that.' On hand caressing the orange ball of fluff on her knees, Trueth pushed a copper strand out of her face. Her hair had grown so long, she had piled it on top in a messy nest which an appointment at the hairdresser later this afternoon would hopefully help to defrizz.
Metjen chuckled. 'Welcome to the club. I didn't join the Servants for their catering, it sucks. I suppose, it's the price one has to pay for being close to the last magical dregs left in this place.'
''Speaking of magic,' Trueth said, tickling the ears of the cat. 'I wanted to tell you before we arrived, but I was pre-occupied with praying for my life. I've got nightmares, and they're escalating. And the worst thing is—I'm not even sure they're nightmares.' Trueth described her nocturnal entertainment.
Metjen would have jumped up, but did not want to startle the dozing beast. 'I do too. Not at the temple but here. So do the twins. Our dreams aren't as detailed as yours, but what you mention sounds familiar somehow. And it's getting stronger. It feels like something has latched on to us and won't let go.'
He got up and leaned against the nearest palm tree. 'There's more. Yesterday Rani-Ra went to check out that wall once more. No idea why she bothered. But she heard a whispering like the voice in her dreams.'
'Hey, the wall whispers as well?' Trueth asked. 'This is getting ridiculous. Has your father found anything? I've been gone so long, I've missed all the action,' Trueth said.
'No action at all. Father had the ground scanned - absolutely nix and nada. Just sand.'
'And you? Did you not notice anything?' The cat stretched and yawned. Trueth lifted him to her shoulder as if he was a fur collar.
'I can't even get close. Even if I stay well away from that blasted wall, it scares me to death.' The memory of the hungry drain of his ka made his mouth go dry; he joined Trueth at the table and drank a glass of karkadi. 'The strange thing is—I'm convinced these broken dreams share the same source as whatever wants me dead. So it's a case of hands off, or else, but at the same time I'm wanted. Did you mention your dreams to Iseret?'
'No.' Trueth handed over the cat; ambled across the grass in her bare feet and played with the dribble coming from the fountain. 'I'm not suicidal.'
Metjen sucked his teeth, then pushed his chair back from the table. 'Look, we will need to tell Iseret. She alone knows what's going on, and I refuse to be kept in the dark any longer.'
Trueth splashed water down the front of her T-shirt. 'Are you nuts?'
She still had the figure of a stick insect but the boobs were not bad. 'Nice, can I see more?'
'This isn't funny at all.' Trueth pulled the T-shirt straight.
'Oh come on, I'm joking. As to our esteemed leader—her bark really is worse than her bite. I'm sure she'll want to know about our problems. Maybe she'll zap us but she must acknowledge we told her in the first place. I'll invite her here, she's never been to visit and I'm sure she'll come.'
'You are completely out of your tiny tree, you know. There is something not right about her!' Trueth's face had taken on a pink glow, freckles splattered like debris across the bridge of her nose.
'Do you have any better suggestions?'
It appeared Trueth did not, so he mind-called Iseret.
As the afternoon turned into evening, Metjen banished any second thoughts rising from the depths of his mind. Instead, he laughed at Trueth's concerns when she came back from the hairdresser's looking halfway civilised but rather chalky in the face.
When the sun dropped into the trees, mother emerged from the living room with a frown. 'Metjen, Trueth—you have a visitor.'
Behind her trailed Iseret, dressed in the black Abaya and headscarf of a Muslim woman which made her almost as invisible as if she had used a magical veil—but without the effort.
Even if he had invited her, Iseret's presence in his home still felt like an intrusion.
His mother rose to the occasion with the usual aplomb. 'Welcome, Your Wisdom, I will get tea for you.'
The cats, however, hissed their opinion. Tails turned into bottle brushes they flattened their ears and bared their fangs until they crouched away with bellies close to the floor. Iseret tore off her scarf and glared at it briefly before she threw it over the chair Trueth was holding for her.
'Thank you sister. Why did you not talk about your dreams?' She ascended to her favourite position in mid-air directing a night-black glare straight at her unfortunate underling. Trueth, who still had the chair in a death grip, had relapsed into her former tongue-tied state, so Metjen intervened.
'Your Wisdom, she has confided in me as she didn't want to bother you with something that might well have only been a silly dream.' This was not the exact truth, but it would have to do.
'She should not have experienced what you call something, but I can only free the young sister if she agrees to become a Pure One. Are you ready?' Iseret laser-beamed more displeasure in the general direction of Trueth, causing her waxy cheeks to flush with colour. 'I knew about the dreams. Sister Trueth was obviously plagued by lack of sleep and wanted to know why. I wondered whether you would tell me.'
Metjen congratulated himself on his initiative. It had been a wise move to throw a veil over certain parts of Trueth's memories. Not that Iseret would deliberately search the recesses of Trueth's mind without provocation, she had always considered this to be the epitome of rudeness. But one never knew... . 'Your Wisdom, be aware that these images plague me too—outside the temple. What I perceive is not as graphic—but I definitely experience nightmares.'
Iseret glowered at him instead, which was better. 'You always wait long until you come to me.'
Metjen inclined his head briefly to show his regret. 'I wanted to have more specific news to impart, Your Wisdom, as this is most confusing. I can see you are trying to spare the brothers and sisters unnecessary trouble, but these phenomena are plaguing both Trueth and me, so maybe you could explain. It would save us much concern?'
Iseret snorted. 'Telling you will more likely save me from concern, you bothersome whelp. You are just like your... .'
She stared into the garden until she turned back to them. 'None of this now. I will tell you what you must understand, so you do not cause harm.'
Iseret took a deep breath. 'You will have worked out these dreams come from the key—like the voice we all heard on the day of the ceremony. Both remind us of a great crime committed a long time ago. Foolish priests called forth the minions of Seth, the demons. These priests believed they could harness what is dark and evil and use it to do good. But this you cannot do. Ever. The demons escaped their control, liked this world and turned it into their home.'
Iseret floated through the garden, her unseeing eyes beholding a scene caught behind the barrier of time. Nobody spoke. The only sounds came from the distant traffic and the tinkling of the fountain. She whipped around. 'You see all this.' Her sweeping gesture swished past the leaves of the nearest bushes, but Metjen did not believe she was referring to their landscaping arrangements.
Iseret continued. 'This world is what they made it—chaos and destruction, strife, and war. They suck in the pain, and they prosper. The priests of old times could only seal the wound to stop more of the dark horde from coming, and the Servants have been guarding the access ever since.
'Once in a while, a foolish person summoned another demon—but never in those numbers. The Servants made sure of this, too. Now we are weak, and the key has warned us our time might soon run out. When we are gone, mankind will be completely alone
'The dream mentions no demons?' Trueth had defrosted and went straight for the jugular. Iseret hovered towards her, black glare at full beam, and for good measure tapped Trueth's forehead repeatedly with her bony finger.
'It wants us to act. This might engage us in a battle with the demons. We cannot do this–you know how few we are, how feeble our talents. One misplaced step will rip the old wound open. More of Seth's minions come, mankind is lost—and one more plane is conquered. So be careful.'
She pivoted towards Metjen. 'If you hear the voices from so far away, your powers are growing. And this is true too for your siblings who you forgot to mention to me. All this is good, but it is not enough to win. You never listen—but listen once. Think well before you proceed—and if you do, take the right choice. I bid you good night.'
She landed on the lawn, donned her scarf with a determined gesture, nodded at them and prowled out of the garden into the night.
Trueth ran her hands through the remains of her coiffure which was well on its way back towards its usual chaos. 'Do I believe this wild story where priests conjure up the residents of the underworld? Talking of demons, if you look at those in charge nowadays, one does wonder—'
'—Don't go there, it boggles the mind. Though it explains a few things... .' A siren wailed in the distance. Metjen waited for it to stop before continuing. 'Yes, I believe her. Still, she's only told us what's at stake, not what's going on. We have what she thinks is necessary to stop us from doing silly things. Like ushering in the rest of the black horde by accident.'
'I think she knows you very well.' Trueth grinned at him widely.
'Thanks, but I was hoping she'd part with more backstory.' It was Metjen's turn to prowl the garden.
'Should we not leave things alone?' Trueth seemed to search for solutions in the balmy night skies.
'You're giving the term advocatus diaboli a whole new dimension,' Metjen said. 'I tell you something, I don't think she wants us to stop. She talks about thinking before acting and doing the right thing. But she hasn't blocked me, and she's always ultra-clear if she doesn't want things to happen. Interesting, isn't it?'
'True. Maybe she's a demon.' Trueth said.
'You really are... .' Metjen slumped over the table and put his head in his hands. 'Why can't I get at the damn wall when Rani has no problems?' He banged the wood in frustration.
Trueth pulled a face. 'I knew this Blessing was a bad idea. Who did it, Iseret? The wall could be trying to keep out those tainted by her demonic aura.'
He was tempted to dunk the woman into the fountain. But she was right about the Blessing. 'Nobody in my family has ever joined the Servants and nobody ever had the Blessing before me. We're agreed that we must be descended from the Guardians—we just happen to have forgotten what we're supposed to guard. Light on its own is a bit vague. I think something wants me because I'm a Guardian. But it doesn't like the Blessing.
'It hasn't called me, and I thought I was part of the solution to a problem we still haven't found. Unless this demon stuff is it.'
She had nailed it.
'Yes!' Metjen banged the table again, this time using both fists. Fortunately, there was no cat underneath.
He jumped up, hugged Trueth and kissed her repeatedly on her cheeks. She extricated herself, her blush clashing violently with the fire halo of her hair.
'What's Arabic for loony bin? I need to make a phone call,' Trueth said.
'Of course, you're being called, otherwise you wouldn't suffer from nightmares. The wall did not whisper during your first visit?'
Trueth shook her head.
'So, we go there next. We take Rani-Ra and Ranofer into that corridor and see what happens. And I'll be with you. '
'How on Earth is this going to work? Didn't you say you can't get there—'
'I can get reasonably close, at least for a while. I can't come with you all the way, but I'll be in your head and protect you remotely from messing things up. Just in case these demons are lurking in the vicinity, or whatever else is going on. I've had enough. I want a complete version of this blasted message. Now.'
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Uh oh - but now we are talking business! If you enjoyed this chapter, please do let me have your feedback - and your votes. Thank you for reading on!
Koshary is a popular Egyptian dish, made of rice, noodles and lentils.
This Chapter is dedicated to @drwhogivesadamn whose novel 'In her Words' blithely ignores a lot of the sage advice to be found in books on writing. Very successfully, I may say. Apart from that, she is yet another expression of the cooperative spirit which makes Wattpad so enjoyable.