The God’s Guardian (The Pharaoh’s Promise #3)

Chapter Fifteen

A knife flashed as Hemhat severed the cord binding the Medjay guardian’s hands. Anpu leaped forward and dealt the priest a massive blow against his head. The priest stumbled back, falling to the ground. Anpu picked the sundial up off the altar and shoved it at Bhaskar, who took it reflexively. Anpu picked up the feather and leapt onto the altar. Holding the feather high, he began to shout prayers into the sky.

“Dua en Wesir, neb djet, heka netjeru, iry-f heru nebet neferu. Kha-f m Duat m heru, shetay m khau m gerah, nekhtu her isfet en ir-f shai Ma'at. Wesir, sedj sedjef en bak-a. Sheta Ma’at sejet, Ammit, Aaiu en Baa, uhat em keku. Aa nefer, ka-k aakhu netjher en ankh renpet neheh, setesh isfet, uhem Ma’at hetep.”

Hail to thee, Osiris, lord of eternity, king of the gods, whose manifold forms are holy, who enters the Duat by day and emerges in triumph by night, victorious over the chaos that seeks to undo Ma’at. Osiris, hear the cry of your servant. The path of Ma’at has been forsaken, and the Devourer of Souls has risen from the shadows. Mighty one, whose ka sustains the living and the dead, undo the wrong that has fractured the sacred order.

Silently, Bhaskar added his own prayers to Vishnu, Shiva, Durga, Indra.

The lions roared.

A great flash of lightening split the sky. In the aftermath, color disappeared and everything was surrounded by a white light. Bhas looked down at the lions and saw that the crocodile head and hippopotamus hindquarters had disappeared. They were just lions again, but their forms flickered, as if caught between worlds. He blinked. Colors returned to normal, and the lions were gone.

His ears popped and the sudden noise of the crowd overwhelmed him. In the chaos, Bhaskar almost missed the first soft rumble. Even when the sound caught his attention, he assumed only he could hear it, the rolling of the ghostly dice.

Then the rumble became louder, the earth shifted, and rocks rained down around him.

Anpu jumped from the altar and shoved Bhaskar toward the exit. “Geb stirs. Go! We must get out. Go!”

The cultists could also see the danger and there was a mass rush for the passageway out.

Before Bhaskar and Anpu could make their own escape, the priest rose up from behind the altar, his bronze blade clutched in his hand. Snarling, he launched himself at Bhaskar, but Anpu intercepted him, tackling him to the ground. They rolled over and over, grappling for control of the dagger and vying for dominance. As the chamber emptied, Bhaskar picked up a stone. If they would just hold still, he could hit the priest over the head.

He crept forward, looking for an opportunity. The priest made a sudden move, using his legs as he rolled to throw Anpu off of him. As soon as he was free, he launched himself at Bhaskar, his blade aimed straight for his heart. Bhaskar stepped back, but he knew he was too slow. Just as he thought the blade would pierce his skin, the earth rumbled again and the stones underfoot buckled, then cracked. The earth split open in a jagged fissure. Bhaskar was thrown back, and with a cry of terror the priest fell into the chasm. Bhaskar watched in horror as the ground buckled again and then rumbled shut, sealing the priest within.

Before he could think, Anpu was at his side, urging him up.

“Go, go!” he yelled.

Bhaskar began to run, Anpu’s hand at his back urging him faster. Stones rained down around them, but somehow they were untouched. As they ascended the stairs toward the surface, the passageway began to crumble. One of the beams holding the ceiling broke nearly on top of them, but as it fell the largest stone became wedged in the passageway, forming a pathway they could squeeze through. Halfway up, they found Hemhat clearing a hole in some rubble. Together, the three of them continued to the surface. The tomb was collapsing, but at each juncture they were able to find a way forward.

Finally, they were above ground and could see the entrance and the necropolis beyond. In the moonlight, a giant shadow moved, then resolved into the body of the pharaoh’s new war elephant with Pravat perched high on its back. Standing next to the elephant was Kysen, Bhaskar’s guard. Beyond, he could see a phalanx of temple guards rounding up the cultists.

As they approached the doorway, a final great shudder shook the tomb. Bhaskar felt Anpu’s hand at his back again, and he was shoved forward. He flew out of the building just as the entire structure collapsed behind him.

He rolled to his feet, gaze frantically searching the rubble. “Anu!”

As the dust cleared he saw them both, Anu and Hemhat, standing at the very edge of the destruction but unharmed.

Slowly they all looked around. The rest of the necropolis appeared untouched by the devastation, as if the earthquake had never happened. Anpu turned and looked at the place where the tomb had stood. The rubble stopped in a line at his feet. He turned back to Bhaskar and his eyes, already wondering, widened even more as they focused on something at Bhaskar’s side. Bhaskar looked down, and saw he was holding the sundial. It gleamed in the moonlight, not a speck of dust or dirt on its surface

In the silence, Bhaskar heard a sound that had been disguised by the noise of the collapsing tomb. The chink of ivory on ivory grew louder until it seemed to echo into his very bones. When it stopped, it left behind a vast silence, heavy with expectancy.

Bhaskar started forward. They were alive. They were all alive.

But as he approached Anpu dropped to one knee, head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. He raised his arms, palm upturned, forcing Bhaskar to take in the taut muscles of his back as he held himself in a posture of submission. Yet his voice contained no hint of vulnerability. When he spoke, the words carried clearly throughout the still air of the night. “Neb-i, sa khenmesu en-ek mekh setjet.”

Bhaskar frowned, silently mouthing the unfamiliar Egyptian as he tried to piece together the meaning. My Lord, your humble guardian stands ready to serve your will? Or—his horror grew as realization dawned—Neb was a word used in the palace, where the pharaohs called themselves gods. Anpu’s lineage had long been sworn protectors of the divine kings.

“No!” He turned and fled. He was no god for Anu to kneel before.

The full moon lit his way as he ran through the city of the dead. In the distance, he could hear shouts, the cultists maybe, but he didn’t slow to see. He didn’t mark his path as long as it was away. Away from the scene of devastation. Away from the wrath of the gods. Away from Anu.

He had no destination, but wasn’t surprised when he found himself under the Persea tree. Overhead, the hoopoe gave a soft call. The scent of lotus surrounded him. He placed the sundial on the stone bench where moonlight filtering through the branches of the Persea tree illuminated the artifact’s inscription: a spell for lovers. He approached the entrance to the tomb. Inside were Medjay, Anpu’s ancestors. He stopped at the door and peered inside. There were no torches here and his eyes could not penetrate the darkness within.

He wondered what would happen if he continued. He imagined this tomb descending into the earth as many did. In his imagination, he walked on, past the waiting Medjay, endlessly down until he reached the Duat. As he descended, his earthly body dissolved into dust and returned to the elements. Would he be judged, his soul weighed against the Feather of Ma’at? Or would he be reborn, destined to live again and again until he could transcend the chains of the flesh?

The scent of sandalwood and frankincense warned him even before the soft words floated out of the darkness behind him. “Am I to be punished then, neb-i, for not believing you were truly Bhaskar of the Gods?”

“Will you lock me in jail or have me banished or exiled?”

“Never.”

Bhaskar took another step toward the dark, toward the Duat. “Earlier tonight you said I would be exiled or worse.”

“I was angry. You hid the Iret Ra, Wat Osiris. You trusted Hemhat instead of me. You placed yourself in danger. I wanted to hurt you as you had hurt me.” He sighed, a trace of remembered anger in the sound. “But already I had plans to spirit you away if the pharaohs and the temple would not see reason.”

The aroma of frankincense and sandalwood grew stronger as Anpu moved closer.

“From the time I was small I was raised to duty. Yet my grandfather was right. I am rash. From the moment I met you, Iret Ra, Wat Osiris, the pharaohs, even the temple, have taken second place.”

“You followed me.”

“I protected you.”

“You interrogated me over dinner. “

“I believed your innocence, despite the evidence. I did not question you as closely as I should have.”

“You searched my room as I slept.”

“I only made a cursory search of your room and let you distract me from even that.”

“You had me arrested.”

“I did not. Even though you were with Callius daily and we suspected him already. I was angry that the city guards had acted.”

“You let me believe you wanted”— me —“my companionship.”

“Instead of doing my duty, I let you take me onto the roof to seek the gods in the stars. You looked up at me as if you saw more than duty. I saw the stars through your eyes and found my destiny.”

The silence stretched.

“Neb-i?”

“I am Bhaskar the Astronomer.” The darkness swallowed his voice. Bhaskar of Badrinath. Bhaskar of the Badrinath Shrine. Bhaskar Acharya Vasudeva’s son. Bhaskar Son of India. Bhaskar the Pandita. Bhaskar the Devarshi. The titles bestowed on him by others were endless. Did he have no choice?

“You wish to deny your heritage.”

He still stared into the darkness, but his heart beat fast with hope. “I wish to choose my own destiny.”

Then Anu’s arms came around him, drawing Bhaskar back against Anu’s broad chest.

“Seba-i, my bright, wandering star. You will be an astronomer if you wish. It will be my duty to make sure of it.”

“Anpu…”

“My friends call me Anu.”

In the distance, the dice were silent. The gods waited, but would not weigh in.

This was his choice. He turned and Anu’s mouth covered his. The scent of lotus surrounded them and the blessings of the gods echoed in the soft call of the hoopoe. Overhead the full moon continued its journey between Sah and Sopdet, a reminder of divine reunions. But in the garden of the resting Medjay, only Bhaskar and Anu existed, their love as endless as the stars.