Trueth awoke underground. Again. The realisation did not come as a shock anymore; instead she was annoyed. She had expected to enjoy her incense-free existence for a while longer.
Strangely enough, she was not lying on the cot in her little cell. Instead, she lay on the floor as she could see the feet of the gods on the walls—those who had feet. Not all of them did as they were depicted in mummified form.
Trueth wriggled her toes and was pleased to note she could still do so, which would not have been the case had she been in mummified form herself. However, in that case she would also not have been in a position to appreciate the fine rendering of those godly feet, at least not from her vantage point... .
So, matters considered, she was doing well; but she was still puzzled what she was doing here. Sitting up, Trueth noted more disconcerting facts. She was not alone. The twins were lying next to her, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. At least they were still breathing. She too regarded the roof of the chamber where the goddess of the heavens, Nut, was still doing her acrobatics among these little stars.
'Rani?' She nudged her inert friend.
No change. In their current state, neither Rani-Ra nor Ranofer could appreciate the historically interesting decorations of this chamber.
Trueth turned towards the other person she sensed in the room. Metjen was lying on the stone plinth. A shimmering phenomenon resembling an underground version of the northern lights undulated around him. It was beautiful to behold—but like most of these curses featuring teeth, hands and other divine body parts its effect could only be disagreeable.
Trueth wondered what they had done wrong.
Suddenly, recollections of the recent past rushed into her consciousness, making her feel nauseous. Along with the memories came a suspicion. Her Wisdom by now must have gathered enough intelligence regarding trespassers in chambers, tombs and excavations to be royally annoyed. Thecnically speaking, they had not broken any taboos at the dig. Iseret had not forbidden them to go there. A cramp in her digestive system told Trueth this argument would not fly with their high priestess.
The memory of the fight with Nebmutef returned and rudely pushed the other thoughts aside. How typical of her—instead of using the power of her healing she had panicked and lost control of her bolts. And Metjen was caught as well, which was bad news. She would have much preferred him outside, ready to enter and start his habitual harassment.
When she glanced again at her friend lying under his billowing shroud of radiance, he appeared to be suffering from a significant lack of oxygen. They needed him on his feet and plotting, or they stood no chance at all. Trueth mustered her courage and waved her hands through the glimmer. Nothing happened. As insubstantial as it was, the veil clung like a fairy kiss of death.
She remembered the things Nebmutef had taught her, reached into herself, called on her power and muttered invocations to Tefnut, the Goddess of humidity. A frigid rainforest shower plunged over the veil, rushed down on all sides, splattered onto the floor—but at the same time found its way in. Little holes appeared, like acid eating into a fabric.
The veil disintegrated and with a soft huffing sound vanished completely. A howling rose, reminding her of the feline blob, but it came from Metjen who was being pelted by ice-water.
'Oh, sorry.'
The shower stopped. Metjen appeared bluer than ever, but at least this was no longer due to a lack of air or whatever his problem might have been. He was hugging himself, and his teeth were chattering. Had she had time she would have appreciated his impressive abs—but she did not and instead welcomed the charming maniac back among the living, breathing and talking.
An Orb of Khons and they put me under the Breath of Shu.
Metjen gestured at the wall where the respective gods of the Moon and the Wind were marching on, unconcerned with their disciple's plight.
This plinth is placed on packed earth and filled with water, and the braziers held me with their fire. All four elements at once— they must be quite scared to do something like this, it's a bit risky. I could have died.
Everything in this place was risky, and it was surprising not more people had died—over and above those who were already enjoying the peace of the afterlife. Trueth took a deep breath.
'Metjen for the sake of, of—oh never mind, get your act together. I was worried for your health, so I got this wind stuff off you!'
'You did? Not bad,' Metjen observed her with raised eyebrows and slid off the plinth, nearly slipping in a puddle on the floor.
'What spell did you use?'
'Tears of Tefnut. Nebmutef told me in the shrine I could weave spells even if I am not yet an initiate.'
'Good. Make the water warmer next time, will you?'
He muttered something and with a puff was dry again. Only now did Metjen notice his sister and brother who still appeared to be unconscious. Metjen put his hands on their respective foreheads and confirmed they were unharmed and on their way back into this world.
'What's going on, I can only remember father having a fit.' A grim look flickered across his face. I had a chat with mother and afterwards... .'
Metjen must have blanked out the whole sordid rest of it.
'We got arrested. I think Iseret must have arranged for us to be watched, maybe she has connected a few dots and the trip to the wall might have been one dot over the limit.'
The twins were waking up, so Trueth went across to calm them down, but she seemed to have depleted most of her resources when she saved their brother. At least it had been worth the effort, Metjen again was his normal self—complete with attitude.
'Leave them, it's allright. It was only the Claw of Anubis, turns you into a living dead for a while but leaves no lasting trace.'
That was good to hear, but Trueth was glad nobody told her of this particular little gem before she had got more accustomed to the ways of the temple. Admittedly, her two friends did not seem to suffer any after effects.
'What do we do?' Rani-Ra asked.
'You will do nothing. She might give you a penance, but it's me she's after. And Trueth,' he added as an afterthought.
A chunk of ice materialised right where Trueth's stomach normally was. At that moment the door opened, two of the more solidly built priests trooped in and stood to the left and right of the entrance. They crossed their arms under the strings of amulets they wore --two sheeted bouncers who had lost the fight with the Christmas decoration.
Trueth flinched and looked at the gods who did not return her gaze. Nebmutef followed after the bouncers, he hobbled up to where Metjen stood and regarded him without words and, presumably, thoughts. Metjen raised a quizzical eyebrow in response.
'I will try to help you if I can. She still is not aware of...certain things. But to go on like this right after she met you... .' He shook his head. 'At the very least, you will lose your privileges. At the very worst, she might put the Claw of Anubis on you permanently. She is that angry.'
Metjen turned his stone-pharaoh gaze on the old priest. 'We shall see what will happen.'
Nebmutef shook his head once more and waved at them to follow. They strode towards the main chamber in another one of these processions the temple excelled in. Every single one of the brothers and sisters seemed to have assembled, the expressions on their faces inscrutable.
When they entered the chamber, Trueth turned her gaze towards her bare feet, wondered where her shoes had got to this time and decided she might not need them anymore. On a second thought, the floor of the temple was hard and cold and not half as pleasant as that cover of fir needles she remembered. At least it was dry here, but just as draughty—she looked up and saw Metjen and Iseret facing each other in the middle of the chamber.
Accompanied by a painful quiet, currents were stirring the closeness of the room. The wild flicker of the tapers painted their eerie magic onto the wall paintings, and she wondered whether the gods only came alive in the shadows and draughts of this subterranean place of worship.
The breeze grew stronger, carrying the odour of old incense. A couple of the tapers flickered wildly as the kilts and dresses billowed with odd ripples. The first brazier flared and died down, followed by another—and another. Their glowing embers swirled up and dropped to the floor where they winked in and out and died in a whiff of scorched wood.
Still Iseret and Metjen were opposing each other, and Trueth saw that telltale trickle of blood tracking a deep red line from Metjen's eye. She felt Rani-Ra's hand steal into hers, held on to its warmth and reached for Ranofer's hand as well.
Hidden in the obscure darkness they had created, Iseret and Metjen still persevered. Their faces were white, translucent with a concentration that went to the skull, lips drawn away from teeth in a rictus of power. The floor trembled once, twice and started shaking in earnest.
Trueth heard gasping around her as the brothers and sisters tried to cling to their sacred walls.
A stink smell permeated the air, as if foul things found their end on a funeral pyre. The tremors persisted, grew stronger—and with a crashing rumble the ceiling of a room behind them collapsed.
The tremors stopped.
One of the remaining tapers flared up and died. In the weak flicker of its passing, she could see a red line running its course across one of Iseret's cheeks. A shiver, a moan ran through the collected priests. Metjen abruptly stepped back and Iseret—staggered.
'Leave be, I beg you. I mean you no harm.' Metjen stumbled across the room and grabbed Iseret's elbow. Her limbs refused her their support and she flopped onto the floor where Metjen joined her just a split second later.
They both appeared to be utterly spent. One was grey, the other one blue in the face.
This would not do. Trueth let go of the twins' revitalising warmth, strode towards the combatants and put one hand on each of their heads. They both gasped and slumped. At least their colour improved. Metjen raised his head, a sad half-smile on his face. 'Thank you, my friend. Are you feeling better, Your Wisdom?'
Iseret nodded but averted her eyes. Trueth helped her up—and got lost in that dark look coming from below her chin.
A hand grasped hers. A thumb got pressed on the birthmark. 'I thank you too, sister. Go back, and your path will take you far.'
Iseret pulled herself upright and addressed the holy assembly. 'Brothers and sisters, this has shaken me much. I need to seek solace in peace. Should it be the will of the gods, I shall return. Until then, I bid you farewell.'
She scrutinised Metjen from head to toes. 'I am not sure how long your path will be, but place your steps with caution when you do what you are going to do.'
With a final wave of her hand, Iseret turned towards the exit, the sea of faces flowed aside in silence.
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Don't tell me, there was not enough action in this chapter XD. I also had some nibbles for the romantically inclined among you - I hope you appreciate my efforts. If you do, do let me know and please vote as well. Thank you!
This chapter could only be dedicated to one person, @Twilightpeaks and his fantastically gloomy SciFi novel 'Dark Omega'. Like me, he loves to plot-twist until readers get dizzy ...
Copyright picture: http://www.cgpgrey.com/