Wardens of Eternity Read online

  “Release me!” I screamed, my body thrashing in the spell’s grip.

  Kauket’s eyes blazed like flames. A line of gold slipped down her face. “I don’t think you’re in the position to give orders, Medjai.”

  I threw up my arm with another khet spell. The flames flashed and slammed into Kauket’s body, knocking her back and making her lose focus. I crumpled to the earth in a heap, and though my limbs were tangled and weak, I shakily pushed myself up. From over my head, an ax hissed through the air at a lightning fast spin and slammed into Kauket’s chest with a thud. She shrieked and doubled over, clawing madly at the obsidian blade and helve.

  I turned, daring to take my eyes from her as she struggled, and inhaled deeply with relief when I saw Sayer. He collided with me, his gaze hard and dark and his touch gentle. He raised his hand to cup my cheek, lift my jaw, move my face left to right, as he inspected me for injury. His burning eyes met mine.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

  He seemed as visibly dazed and shaken as I was. “I got Nasira out. Cyrene is working on my mother. I tried to heal her. I did.”

  I stared at him, understanding what that meant. Everything I felt and saw seemed unreal and dreamlike. Shock hadn’t yet waned.

  “Medjai!”

  We both spun to face Kauket, who had Nasira’s slackened body suspended by the throat. Cyrene knelt by the unmoving and bloodied form of Haya. Once she noticed Nasira in the goddess’s clutches, Cyrene rose slowly with caution.

  “Enough games!” Kauket roared. “I know you have the canopic jar, boy. I can sense it on you. Give it to me or she dies. Then you watch your friends die. Then you die.”

  Sayer’s face drained and he exhaled shakily, staring at his sister in dread.

  “I will break her, Medjai,” the immortal snarled. “Hand it over!”

  Cyrene did not take her eyes off him. “Sayer. Don’t.”

  He acted as though he hadn’t heard her. Indecision rooted him, silent, to the ground. After another moment, he drew a trembling breath through his mouth and exhaled. He opened his leather jacket and presented the alabaster canister.

  “No!” Cyrene barked in anger.

  Kauket dropped Nasira and the goddess’s form vanished from sight. Shadows flashed where she’d been standing. She appeared directly in front of Sayer, swarming them both in a plume of inky darkness.

  “Sayer!” I cried fearfully and shot toward where their forms vanished.

  When the shadows died, Kauket was gone and Sayer had lost the canopic jar.

  CHAPTER

  14

  Sayer’s dark eyes, shining with adrenaline, met mine. He opened his mouth to say something to me, but he closed it without a word. He didn’t need to say anything to me. I knew why he did it. Even though I’d never had a sister, I’d always wanted one badly enough to know I’d do anything to keep her. I gave him a gentle nod to let him know I stood with him. His gaze bounced around my face, searching for something I could not know, before he bolted toward where Nasira lay. I followed him at a jog. When he reached her, he knelt to check her wrist, and rose again to return to his mother’s side.

  Cyrene threw up her hands and gave him a disgusted look. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  “Yes, I do,” he spat back. He knelt beside Haya and took her limp hand in his. He rocked back and forth and whispered something too low for me to hear.

  Haya was dead and Nefertari’s treasure was gone.

  My lungs felt shriveled, my chest constricted. The air seemed thin and my limbs had turned to jelly. I sat wobbly next to Nasira, picking her hair, matted with blood, out of her face. She was alive, but deeply unconscious. One of her arms hung loosely, stretching the skin connecting it to her shoulder socket, which appeared far too sharp to be normal. I didn’t need to be a doctor to tell her right lower leg was badly broken. I didn’t know how we’d get her home, or if she’d even survive the trip. When I lifted my head, I saw Cyrene running a hand through her hair roughly, growling curses under her breath. Sayer’s cheeks were stained with tears.

  The anguish erupted from inside of me. “Anubis!” I screamed, squeezing his amulet until it bruised my hand. “Anubis!”

  I smelled desert sand and stone.

  “Ziva,” the guardian of the dead said gently, and he knelt by my side. “What’s happened here?”

  “We found the canopic jar,” I told him, meeting his gaze blearily. “But Kauket took it. Haya is dead. And Nasira . . .”

  “She’s alive,” he assured me. “She’ll be fine.”

  His eyes rolled into the back of his head until only glassy white orbs remained, and then his lids fluttered closed. He paused at the wound in her leg and muttered his spell more forcefully. The gash splitting her skin stitched together with invisible thread and the seam melted away. This was a far different healing magic than what I’d seen Sayer use—what he’d used on me—but Anubis was a god.

  There came a disturbing pop sound from Nasira’s chest and Anubis’s eyes returned to their prismatic topaz, but she didn’t stir.

  Panic fluttered inside me. “Why won’t she wake up?”

  “Her body was brutalized,” he told me firmly. “Her heart was barely beating. Give her time.”

  “You have to get the canopic jar back from Kauket,” I told him, my voice rising with desperation. “I can’t chase her to the netherworld, but you can. Please, Anubis, you have to help us.”

  He licked his lips, trepidation filling his face. “There’s only one place she’d take it: to Set.”

  “Do you know where he might keep it?” I asked, hopeful.

  Anubis shook his head. “He won’t keep it anywhere. The jar is only good to us and Nefertari. He will destroy it.”

  The breath rushed from me with disbelief. “Then we don’t have any time. You have to get it back. Now! Go!”

  He closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump, the sadness unmistakable. Then he was gone.

  ANUBIS

  The moment Anubis took in the cool netherlight of his domain, his power darkened with anger. He stepped to the edge of the dais, hoping that if he hesitated before seeking Set he might calm down, but his rage only grew. Anubis was sick after what Kauket did to the Medjai. The cruelty was unfathomable.

  He sensed her energy and found her slumped against the side of a corridor in Set’s domain. For a critical moment, he gaped at her in shock. The goddess of darkness looked like anything but, with her hair haphazardly tangled around her shoulders and her dress slashed in several places. Her crocodile-tight grip on the canopic jar was her only sign of life.

  She looked up at him with dull eyes set in dark, bruised sockets. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it and spare me that look of pity you reserve for kicked puppies.”

  “You’ll find no pity from me,” he replied coldly. “I hope you feel as terrible as you look.”

  She exhaled harshly and frowned as though she’d tasted something foul. “That Medjai girl has wrecked my dress and my pride. I’m having a wretched night.”

  Anubis felt a bitter smile start at the edge of his mouth.

  “Don’t look so pleased with her,” Kauket grumbled. “I’ve made it this far to rest, but I’ll be on my way now. No doubt you’re here for the canopic jar. You caught me off guard. You could’ve taken it if you hadn’t stalled.” She spat a gob of blood onto the ground. “One day your tendency to hesitate will get you killed.”

  He crossed his arms. “That’s quite the threat from someone lying helpless on the ground.”

  She huffed and gave him a frail smile. “I like you, Anubis. You’re a nuisance, but at least you’ve got a spine.”

  A rumble came from deep, deep below them, beneath the deepest chasm of the netherworld’s emptiness where Anubis had never dared to venture. The stillness that had settled between them fractured; fear squeezed through as blood from a wound.

  Shadows closed in on Kauket’s sk
in, veiling her, to protect their mistress. A whisper passed her lips as but a breath. “He stirs.”

  She used the last of her energy to vanish before Anubis, and though he didn’t know what her last words meant, he knew where she was headed to heal. He believed with a dark ember in his heart he’d had the strength to finish her off then and there.

  But he let her go.

  It was foolish of him. He didn’t fear retribution. Set wouldn’t dare. After all Kauket had done, she deserved it. Then why wouldn’t Anubis kill her? His own actions—or lack thereof—angered him.

  Anubis continued to his destination. The god of chaos sat rigid in his throne and his expression seemed less pleased with himself than Anubis had expected. The canopic jar perched on one arm of the throne, inches from Set’s hand, taunting. He had no idea how he’d claim it from Set. There was no way he could fight Set and win, not without an element of surprise.

  As Anubis approached, Kauket emerged from the impluvium at Set’s feet, her nude backside shimmering in the netherlight that danced across the water’s surface. Her black satin hair gleamed down her back, and with both hands she squeezed the remaining water from her tresses. She grabbed a linen sheet to cover her slender body, but the material was too sheer to have any worth. Her body already appeared healed and cleaned of blood, thanks to the regenerative power of the water. The goddess of darkness looked over her shoulder, offering Anubis a sly, victorious grin.

  “Kauket,” he called with a lilt of false surprise in his voice, though his hostility added to it a drop of poison. He was eager to wipe that smile off her face. “You’re looking well so suddenly. I’m almost impressed you’ve overcome your gutlessness enough to function.”

  Her grin sunk into a grimace, and her carnelian eyes narrowed into slits. She licked her lips with a flick of her serpent’s tongue.

  “Rude, Anubis,” Set scolded lazily. “Have you come all this way just to pick a fight?”

  “Is it your greatest wish, Set, to cause maximum damage in plain view of human beings?” Anubis demanded, unable to hold the bite from his tone. “The mortal world is as delicate as ever, perhaps more so, now that it’s a world of science instead of magic. Civilization could erupt into madness and chaos.”

  Set spread his hands and gave Anubis a flat smile. “That’s kind of my thing.”

  Kauket stepped forward and darkness cupped her jawline, poured over her shoulders, as her rage surfaced and spilled. “The lives of a few mortals are but a few fallen rocks from a mountainside. I follow Set because I believe in him. He has saved us all from annihilation before and yet the rest of you branded him the villain. What he lost to save us all! Then you crowned a coward king! Set has what it takes to be a king. I will fight for victory, at whatever cost.”

  “Kauket,” Set murmured soberly, but he could not soothe her passion.

  “That cost is human lives,” Anubis said through gritted teeth. “Neither of you understands. You’re immortal and you have no concept of death. You don’t think killing is right or wrong, do you? You can’t even fathom the cost of life.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “What makes you so different?”

  “I spend time with them,” Anubis answered, and he no longer cared about the desperation building in his throat like a scream. “I’ve watched them take their first breaths and live their lives and die. I’ve walked among the fallen in battle, among hospital beds filled with the sick. I have seen life and death for so long and so close that these are tangible things to me now. I feel death in my fingertips and I taste life on my tongue. I’ll never be able to teach you the value of mortal life, because you can’t feel a thing.”

  Set lowered his head to glower at Anubis from beneath his strong brow. “I’ve had enough of your self-righteous blathering.”

  “The mortals have plenty of evil to worry about without you killing them over a three-thousand-year-old personal slight,” Anubis snarled.

  Kriosphinxes crept forth into the netherlight, forsaking the shadows. One corner of Set’s mouth pulled into a grin. “I merely desire what is rightfully mine by covenant and to return our people to earth.”

  Anubis gritted his teeth and shook his head in disgust. “We all know there is more to your story. What is so important about what a dead queen promised you?”

  “She betrayed me,” Set sneered. “My heart was broken.”

  “Your heart was broken long before that,” Anubis said, boldness stirring within him. He trembled, realizing he’d said what no other immortal had ever dared.

  The malice in Set’s gaze became a physical force and Anubis felt it brush against his throat in warning.

  Anubis continued, “If the mortal world is what you’re after, then know this: These humans do not have the same fears the ancient people of Egypt had. You cannot expect to rise from the netherworld and be greeted with a sea of mortals groveling at your feet.”

  Set laughed, his voice thick and booming, echoing like war drums. “Is a savior not precisely what the Medjai are after? This entire world went to war, a more destructive clash than I have ever seen, millions dead. They poisoned their own air to kill each other. That is a twisted sort of sickness which impresses even me. I understand the Medjai want to stop that from happening again. They don’t need a once-mortal queen. A godless world can only be saved by gods.”

  Anubis hated to admit there was truth in that. “Perhaps if we joined forces with the Medjai, rather than leaving them alone to protect the mortal world—”

  “Are you, oh prince of death, suggesting the immortals should intervene?” Set inquired, incredulous.

  “I suggest we help the Medjai stop what has started in the mortal world,” Anubis said, hoping he could convince Set to merely hand over the canopic jar willingly. “We have the power. If all of us—all of us, Set—join together, we can help the Medjai rebuild and stop this second world war. With Queen Nefertari, we may resurrect the Golden Age she created long ago.”

  Set grimaced and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “All right. Enough. I don’t care about what the humans do to each other.” He leaned forward and malice twisted his visage. “They let my temples turn to dust and I’ll let their bones suffer the same. I care about the survival of our people—nothing else. I will not allow that traitorous mortal worm to leave the netherworld. She owes me her heart and it will be mine!”

  Anubis paused. “She promised you her heart? Literally, her actual heart?”

  A darkness came over Set’s expression as it hardened, and he said nothing.

  Anubis did his best not to glance at the canopic jar. He had to act now before it was too late. He threw a taw spell at one of the kriosphinxes and it squealed as it smashed into a bloodstone column. Set turned his head toward the commotion in surprise and Anubis took his chance. He flashed out and in, appearing instantly beside Set and grabbed the jar. He flashed to the opposite end of the dais with his prize, beaming with triumph.

  Set shot to his feet with a roar and in the same instant, the amber rings in his black eyes flashed like molten gold. Kauket paled ashen with fright.

  “Anubis,” called an imperial voice from behind him.

  He turned and watched his mother, Nephthys, goddess of night and mourning, appear at the edge of the dais, her gown of midnight blue trailing in her wake. Her deeply umber complexion gave a cool glow and her cropped, coiled raven hair emphasized her oval face. Perched behind her shoulders were a pair of wings made of night, the feathers a living celestial skyscape, a canvas of heavenly colors—deep blues, violets, greens, pinks—and twinkling stars against the endless, black universe. They bloomed like storm clouds on the horizon at twilight. Where her dress pinned at her shoulders, black feathers became shining indigo and beryl in the netherlight glow.

  Night followed Nephthys like a faithful servant, her starlight banishing the shadows tethered to Kauket’s command. The lesser goddess retreated, melting into what little inky darkness remained and wearing it like armor. Kauke
t scowled at the brightening of Set’s domain, but he let Nephthys do as she pleased and allowed her natural inclinations without protest. He stood and took a step forward to welcome her with respect.

  Nephthys embraced her son, stretching on her toes to kiss his cheek, beaming with pride it seemed she could barely contain. She settled onto her heels, gazing at him through her expressive, starlit eyes, and offered him a dazzling smile of full lips, setting her high cheekbones aglow. She was an uncommon beauty among the beautiful with a serenity matched not even by the stars. When Anubis witnessed the glowing reverence in Set’s expression, he knew the god of chaos believed the same, that his mother had no equal.

  “My love,” Set said. He bowed his head slowly and deeply to her, dipping his shoulders, never taking his eyes off her.

  A cunning smile curved Nephthys’s lips and she glanced in the direction Kauket had fled before raising one eyebrow in question toward Set. His reply was a cool, unapologetic shrug. They were too stubborn, too angry with each other because of deeds long done, and for immortal gods who had very little understanding of time, a grudge did not wane as easily as the moon. Set would lay at her feet if she asked him to, even if she would never take him back. She was bold, and Anubis liked to believe she’d passed that trait on to him, though her nerve was a subtler beast than his.

  Nephthys placed a hand on Anubis’s arm. “What is this you have here?” she asked, gesturing to the canopic jar.

  “Ah, returning a lost item to its rightful owner is all,” he replied. He struggled to maintain his coolness, unsure if Set was determined enough in his goals to act against Nephthys.

  “I see,” she said, and continued with a glance at Set, “My lord, I’ve come to retrieve my son, if you don’t object.”