Iseret's willpower clawed at Metjen's ka, sending shots of pain through his mind. His blood welled up, trickling down his cheeks in tears of failure. She tore at his emotions; he realised what a nobody he was, unworthy of his noble ancestors... . He fought to suppress a sob, his limbs quivered in despair, and he could do nothing against the icy fire of the monster that raged through his being.
Her command boomed into his mind. I LET YOU OFF THE LEASH TO FULFIL MY GOALS: NOW YOU WILL OBEY AGAIN!
How dare she jerk him around like that?
I WILL NOT!
Fury and sun-flow exploded inside Metjen, hurling his ba into the tumultuous void of Beyond; a void that should ring with the voice of the Gods. It did not. He took a deep breath, sucked in the divine energy and dove back, to re-unite his ba with his body.
As always, eternity had only taken the blink of an eye.
Metjen focussed on his surroundings. Booms and crashes rang in his ears as the chamber erupted in a chaos of spells, curses and bolts, all cutting across each other. Trunks and baskets blew up, destroyed curses crashed to the floor together with the chunks of wall they had been encoded on. Yet nothing could touch the darkness still glowering above them. Pressure built in his cranium and he saw purplish stars blinking all around him.
You tried this before. I will not succumb! Metjen mind-shrieked. He got no answer.
He slammed up a shield composed of divine spirit. The pressure eased, and finally he could join the battle; just in time to stop Rani-Ra from engaging the darkness.
Metjen shoved his sister behind his back but felt her gathering power. He extended the protection around his team and confronted Iseret.
There was only one other person in the room who had remained calm. Trueth regarded him from the corner of her eyes, then she launched her soothing magic at the hovering horror. Iseret's eyes flickered. She raised her hand to ward off the sleeping spell. It slipped between her fingers and darted towards her chest. Trueth had used enough magic to send a hippo into an instant coma.
Not so their foe, she merely shook herself and flicked the flow towards Gebu, who threw himself onto the floor unceremoniously. Trueth's magic rushed into the veil and disappeared.
They were not doing so well.
Metjen reached into himself, exploded a golden ray into the monstrous face above—only to see the flash dog-legging into the shaft. A yellowish sparkle curved around him from behind and flickered into the plinth.
Now there was an idea.
Metjen stretched out both his hands, drew up the flow and his golden rush slammed into Iseret's power base—or whatever that thing was. The plinth cracked into many veins of light; it shook with a tremendous rumble and collapsed into a heap of broken stones.
Iseret winced, folded and deflated onto the floor.
Apart from Nefer's whimpering, the room was silent.
Stones rolled aside, as a shrivelled wraith with wisps of grey hair blowing around her skull dragged herself from the floor, her arms and legs spotted and quivering with age.
'Pray calm down,' Iseret cackled. 'You cause me much despair, and I am too old for this cow dung.' She staggered against the nearest wall, trying to hold on to tattered clothes together with her shredded dignity.
Iseret slumped onto an upturned basket. Metjen had never seen her like this, not even when they had battled back at the temple. The whimpering increased and Nefer was trying to put together another spell.
Iseret cleared her throat and lisped. 'Will you let me finish? I am not your enemy. What I told you was true, I can never lie. But you should not oppose me.'
'Stop jerking me around! And stop treating us like idiot children, telling us only half of the truth,' Metjen said, holding on to the divine energy, ready to attack.
'You have my word—'
'Words you have many,' Metjen shouted.
She fixed her rheumy gaze on him. Behold this.
The air around Iseret shimmered, and her appearance changed, hair grew back, wrinkles disappeared until he saw the woman he had always known. You are young and strong enough to surprise me—but do you really think you can ever beat a high priestess?
Fury overcame him. The next person to point out his shortcomings on the high priest front would pay for it... . He noticed the look of worry on the other's faces; echoes from the shaft made him realise he had lost control for a moment.
'What?' he snarled.
A smirk tugged at the corners of Iseret's mouth. 'I repeat once more—do not fear me. But cease to rouse me. Had I wanted darkness to win, it would have. A long time ago. '
'The Guardians didn't trust you. So why should we?' Metjen asked.
'They harboured doubts, because of my past. They never knew my orders. You read that letter. You know that Amasis called me when she was dying. By then I had founded the Servants to keep evil at bay.'
'You guys had massive communication problems back then,' Trueth said. 'How about talking to each other?'
'Why are you still alive? Or are you?' Rani-Ra asked.
'This is my punishment,' Iseret said. 'I had just returned from the universe... . You would say I had become a high priestess, the youngest ever to achieve this honour. I wanted to be even more special. I was convinced you could harvest talents from evil to do good.'
Metjen was toying with the energy. He pulled it up, shoved it back and realised he behaved like a gunslinger of the old Wild West. 'We've discussed this. The whole idea was stupid. So your punishment was to keep walking the Earth?'
'Yes,' Iseret said.'To protect the sleepers until the constellations were favourable for another try. And to help the Guardians.'
'I knew vampires existed,' Trueth regarded Iseret with a frown on her face.
'Do you drink blood then to keep young?' Rani-Ra asked Iseret.
Iseret did not grace her with a response.
She addressed Metjen instead. 'I believed I was doing the right thing.' A bony finger pointed in his direction. 'As did you, don't forget. Many times recently. Young ones often make that mistake. In my case, others followed, but they wanted—things.'
'Things?' Trueth asked.
'Yes. They craved riches, a longer lifespan. They wished for their leaders to acknowledge them—it does not matter. Things. The demons made promises, and the others let them loose where I wanted them bound.'
A screeching came from the entrance as the ethereal shield across the doorway collapsed in a jumble of flailing tendrils. A red-faced Ranofer stormed into the room muttering invocations and clutching his amulets.
Mother was right behind him with a calculating expression on her face.
She had her hands stretched out ahead and carried what Metjen recognised to be a strong attack spell. Personally he would not use the Talons of Horus on such an occasion. Arrows of Montu would be much better. At least she was not delivering another sandwich. With a determined expression, his father brought up the rear wielding a baseball bat.
Metjen raised his shoulders and hands in mock irritation at their reinforcements. 'What are you doing here?'
His mother smiled softly. 'Oh dear, Ranofer was getting edgy, he was convinced you were in danger. So we came to help.'
'How did you get through that wall without the scarab ring?' Rani-Ra asked.
'Wall?' His mother looked blank. 'Ah yes, that wall. That thing was in the way, just like these whooshy bits here. So I disintegrated them, dear.'
Metjen vowed never to be in his mother's way.
His father was waving the bat in Iseret's general direction. 'What have you been up to? There's something quite wrong with you, and it's high time you got stopped.'
Metjen was ready to intervene when Iseret snapped her fingers, and the bat disappeared. 'You do not need this, Master of ancient knowledge. I am not your enemy. I was trying to tell your children and guest when you came.'
She lifted herself into the air and a silvery flash zapped across to the newcomers. She must have been sharing knowledge, for the professor searched for his weapon and Ranofer raised his hands and gathered power. Metjen mind-blocked his brother while his mother—his mother smiled calmly.
'Oh dear, this wasn't very clever of you. One simply can't trust people. But then, high priestess is a bit of a stressful job for somebody so young.' She smiled fondly at her children—and at Trueth, who smiled back in a way that made Metjen wonder about her parent back in Britain.
From her expression, it was obvious Iseret did not intend to take part in the warm fuzzies.
'You believe her?' Metjen asked his mother. 'You don't think she's the arch enemy?'
'No, dear. She's on our side. I've always known that.'
Metjen felt another wave of frustration rolling up inside. 'Thanks for sharing, Mum.'
He turned towards their former leader. 'Okay, I will accept your version for the moment. I'm still not sure what to do with the guy in the tank.'
'Do not be unsure.' Iseret was already passing into the opening to the shaft. 'We have to save him. He is alive but barely. Follow me.'
She was in charge again. Metjen had to admit he admired her. She must have been a true marvel and had most likely bamboozled the high priest committee into their choice— or whoever got to decide on candidates back then.
Metjen noticed his five priests and priestesses were not moving. He got a shy signal. They were exhausted, they were frightened. They wanted to be out of this. Metjen and his family should watch over Her Wisdom. They trusted Iseret no longer and never would again. They wanted to go back to the temple instead to rest.
He bowed to them. They bowed back, and he rejoined the members of the home-team who were floating into the hole one by one. His father was left behind, appearing forlorn and looking everywhere but at Metjen. He harrumphed. 'Your mother thought you could help me,'
'I will, if I can—my powers are almost spent. But that hall is horrid. And the dead are—were—moving.'
'I must see this.'
Metjen nodded. His father put his arm around his shoulders, and together they descended. Not all the way though, shortly above the floor his sun-flow sputtered, and they landed with a tooth-shattering drop. From the way his father was probing his gums, he must have suffered from the same experience.
'Sorry,' Metjen said.
'You warned me. Let's go, where are these moving dead?'
It appeared none of the ill-assembled skeletons scattered around the hall were in the mood for unnatural trepidations.
Metjen sighed. 'Amasis must have sorted them out.'
'Amasis?' His father had a greedy twinkle in his eye. He would search for Imhotep next.
'Long story. Let's find us that lost guy, shall we? I think you will appreciate that.'
They found the others clustered next to the corner of the tank with the body. Iseret looked as if she would have scratched her head had she been another person. 'My powers are sadly depleted.'
'No way can I help you,' Metjen said. 'I'm drying up and my head hurts like hell. Still need sun-flow for the return.'
Iseret had her pointy nose close to the glass pane. 'The last servant of Hapi died two centuries ago. Those who worshipped the Nile God were good swimmers and divers and we could do with one now. We do not have him, so enough of this.'
'I'm in the swim team at Uni,' Ranofer said. He examined the tank doubtfully. 'I'm not sure though this...funny fluid is safe though. And that body will have polluted things. I need a suit—'
Iseret turned around, her eerie eyes spotlighting Ranofer. He stumbled backwards.
'This is no body. I told you,' she said. 'He went to sleep like the others. But not where they were. Whether his mind will still be with us, I cannot tell. He was not protected. And this has taken so long.'
'Brilliant. You want us to raise a pickled lunatic?' Trueth asked.
'Trueth has a point. Plus the bloke looks as if he might disintegrate as soon as we get lift him to safety,' Ranofer said.
His father was observing the silent figure in disgust. He frowned and got closer to the warning. 'You aren't serious, are you?'
'These words do not speak the truth!' Iseret's hand fluttered.
His father glowered his opinion at Iseret and Metjen winced. She seemed to be in a good mood and only returned the glare with a dividend. 'Just think, Master of knowledge, in a way I am who they write about. So it is not he.'
The argument was as convoluted as the grammar, but from her perspective she had a point. As always, Mother came to the rescue. 'We assume you're right, this is who you say he is, he's still alive, and we can save him. So let's rescue him, do it carefully, watch over him and see what happens with the poor dear. Look at his bruises!'
'He might be the only one we can save if this goes pear-shaped,' Rani-Ra said.
Metjen's father perked up, getting to talk to a living, breathing ancient Egyptian, assuming he had not lost his wits, would excite any self-respecting archaeologist.
As soon as he realised Iseret was another candidate for scientific research, he would trawl for information. Which no doubt she would not want to give. Metjen decided he needed to be somewhere else entirely when this conversation took place.
Meanwhile, Iseret had convinced Ranofer to climb onto the boulders from where he was staring into the glass container; he was obviously regretting his spontaneous offer.
'Can you not mind-lift him or something?' He appealed to Iseret and Metjen.
'Haven't I told you already? I can't,' Metjen said. 'I have hardly enough juice to get to the surface.'
'And I used much of my power to heal myself. Fire is my first element, so I cannot work magic on fluids until I am recovered. It is not dangerous. You will survive. Now go.'
She drew on fire. So did he. Metjen was filing away that nugget of information when Ranofer plunged into the fluid and with vigorous strokes reached the quiet figure on the bottom. He poked the body once, then got bolder and tugged at an arm.
It stayed attached, and the body remained in one piece. Metjen exhaled with relief and Trueth, who was standing next to him, did likewise. Ranofer in the tank did the same, his eyes goggled, so he shot back up.
Ranofer fought to keep buoyant in the fluid and gasped out his observations. 'The guy is as tall as Metjen. And bloody massive. And it's real hard to swim through that gunk. It's much heavier than water.'
Iseret made an impatient movement with her hand. 'Go, bring him to the surface, I will help you from there.' Ranofer rolled his eyes, took a deep breath and again dived through the liquid. He manoeuvred himself into a standing position behind the body, grabbed the man under his armpits and with a glow and a heave pushed himself from the bottom.
Together with his burden he emerged from the substance in a bubble that burst with a wet pop. The man rose from surface and floated gently onto the floor. Ranofer was left to clamber back towards them, dripping green and smelling of peppermint.
'Yuck.' He spat out bile-coloured spittle. 'I swallowed this shit. What will happen now?'
'Nothing,' Iseret said irritably, but Metjen noticed complex hand gestures.
If my brother has caught anything... You could have done without him, he projected.
Then I would have done it. Or we would have had to wait and that we cannot do. Your brother helped, and he is safe.
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The image is . Image is "Explosion" by Indigosnippy.