Wardens of Eternity Read online

  “Of course not,” Set almost crooned. “Though it would please me if you stayed for a while. It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed your company.”

  She cast a long, cool glance at Kauket. “You have plenty of company as it is. I don’t want to intrude.”

  A frown flitted over his face and was gone in a flash. Anubis swore he recognized regret in Set’s amber-ringed eyes—possibly even shame. Perhaps one day, if Set and his mother could both overcome their egos and cease to be so cruel to each other, they could have the loving and devoted relationship they’d once had. They wanted each other more than anything in any world and Anubis wished happiness for them both.

  “Farewell then,” Set said softly, watching Nephthys with an intense longing.

  Anubis’s mother took a firmer hold of his arm and they vanished, consumed by shadows and netherlight, and reappeared before a modest limestone palace in her own domain. Stretching as far as his eyes could see, was a rolling desert beneath a vast, magical night sky. The stars cascading across the galaxy gleamed as brilliantly as they did over the Egyptian desert, surely a creation of Nephthys’s power.

  Anubis and Nephthys crossed a pearly granite bridge over a gently flowing river and into the lush courtyard gardens. Before them fluttered buzzing insects and singing night birds among palm leaves and flowering plants. The palace was still and lonely, but brightly lit by starlight and torches blazing pale netherlight. The two immortals entered through the high front doors carved from obsidian and emerged into the coolly lit atrium. Beyond the lotus columns, moonlight glittered off the surface of an impluvium as it beamed down through the opening in the ceiling.

  “You’ve grown to enjoy antagonizing Set,” Nephthys teased, though something in her eyes gave away her wariness. He noticed the celestial train of her dress reflected the night sky as the still, dark pool did.

  Anubis almost laughed. “I certainly don’t enjoy it. Although, this could’ve gone much uglier if you hadn’t shown up when you did. My guess is your arrival wasn’t coincidental.”

  “No,” she replied. “My connection with him is still strong, but not as strong as mine with you, my son. Tell me, what is so important about this canopic jar you’d risk your life and my heart for it?”

  A moment suspended between them as he searched for the explanation that would stir Nephthys’s thoughts. It wouldn’t be easy to convince her that what was happening in the human world would echo through the netherworld.

  “Egypt is under threat once again,” he told her. “And I don’t believe we should stand aside any longer. For centuries we’ve left the mortals alone and we’ve done a great disservice to them, especially the Medjai. We’ve lost their trust and it’s imperative we repair the damage. Foreign invaders come in waves to Egypt’s shores and this new threat—Mother, they’ve barely recovered from the Great War. They were certain it would be the war to end all wars, and it nearly was, but this could really be the last. Humankind might finally destroy itself.”

  Her brow pinched together with concern and she put a jeweled hand on his arm to comfort him. “You believe this.” It wasn’t a question; she always knew his heart.

  “The Medjai are close to resurrecting the queen Nefertari,” he explained.

  Skepticism came over her face. “Surely that’s impossible. After death, mortals live forever in the kingdom of the dead. They cannot return to the human world.”

  He braced himself, drawing breath not for air but for strength. “Set seems quite convinced that they can. He mentioned the queen’s heart as though he’s desperate for it. As though that is the key to her resurrection. How could all of this effort be to simply get back at a mortal queen?”

  She frowned and said gently, “You know him.”

  He couldn’t argue with the truth. Set had proven he was infinitely petty. “In his eyes every slight is personal.”

  “Forgiveness resides outside his spectrum of emotion. He punishes everyone but me and that’s terribly wrong of him.”

  Anubis shook his head. “He should punish no one but himself.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes. He knew on this they would never agree. He could only hope, when she talked like this, she didn’t regret what she did to give him life. He looked down at the ancient alabaster jar in his hands. “The Medjai search for their queen’s canopic jars to move forward with the resurrection. Set only needs one of them to stop their plans.” He raised the canopic jar to inspect the inscriptions. “It’s odd,” he mused, puzzled.

  “What is?” Nephthys asked.

  “I would’ve thought I’d be able to sense something here,” he noted. “Considering it’s a sacred organ. This is only cold stone to me.”

  His mother frowned. “That is odd indeed. Do you suppose it’s all right to peek inside?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

  Anubis carefully dislodged the lid, carved into the shape of Hapy’s serene face. His heart plummeted. “Oh, no,” he breathed.

  The jar was empty.

  CHAPTER

  15

  The moment Anubis left us, I held my breath as I waited for Nasira to stir, but she lay still as a sleeping fairy-tale princess of war. Sayer approached us and knelt slowly, gazing softly at his sister. Her hand was limp and cool in mine, but I held it anyway.

  “Anubis promised she’ll be okay when she wakes up,” I told Sayer. “Whenever that will be.”

  He looked up at me and my heart broke to see such rawness in his face. “I can heal your wounds, if you’d like,” he offered.

  “No, please, don’t worry about me,” I told him. “Save your strength for someone who needs it more.” The anguish in his eyes was naked and reality felt like a punch to my gut. I had no words for him. How could I possibly understand how he felt? My parents were gone, but I’d never known them. I’d never lost anyone I loved.

  “All isn’t lost,” he told me gently, as though I were the one who needed comforting.

  I summoned my courage. “You’re right. Anubis will get the canopic jar back from Kauket.”

  “Ziva.” Sayer opened his jacket and pulled out a small bundle of very crisp, very yellowed linens.

  My eyes shot wide. “Is that—?”

  He nodded, raising the mummified pair of lungs. “Brute strength can be persuasive, but it’s not always the answer—especially when you’re up against something bigger and badder than you.”

  I grimaced and frowned. “Oh, you had that in your pocket. And you touched it.”

  “I won’t unwrap this, I assure you,” Sayer said. “We still need the canopic jar to translate the hieratic.”

  “Anubis will get it,” I urged. “I trust him.” In my heart, I feared for him. There was something about his relationship with the other immortals I didn’t yet understand. I didn’t believe there was anything he’d deliberately hidden from me, yet there was more. A darker element. A personal element.

  I removed his amulet from its safe place in my pocket and called his name, hoping he’d hear me and arrive unharmed. A few moments later, he appeared, alarmed but in one piece, with the canopic jar in hand.

  “We have the organ,” I told him, wasting no time.

  Anubis didn’t need air, yet he blew a long breath of relief. “I was, needless to say, quite concerned when I found this jar was empty. There’s something else. Just before I took this, Set mentioned Nefertari owes him her heart. Did you read anything about that on the stela?”

  Sayer and I exchanged glances. “No,” he said. “The inscription mentioned only her canopic jars.”

  “We have to find the jars as soon as we can,” I said. “Hopefully they’ll tell us the importance of Nefertari’s heart.”

  Sayer nodded and rose to leave us. “I’ll let Cyrene know.”

  Anubis’s brow drew together, with pain or sorrow or both, I didn’t know. More humanity glowed on his face than I’d ever seen in a single day in Manhattan. “Are you all right, Ziva?” he asked.

  I exhaled gen
tly. “I have to be, so I can take care of my friends.”

  “Take care of yourself as well,” he said. He touched my shoulder, offering me comfort, and stayed beside me until we were ready to leave.

  The food I’d scavenged for myself in the kitchen of Wytheford Hall refused to sit well in my stomach. I had a peculiar feeling through my whole body. A little nausea—from stress I imagined—and the bone-squeezing sensation of uneasiness.

  After picking up my mess, I headed toward the bedroom Nasira slept in with Sayer watching over her. A low buzz and tinny voice coming from a room as I passed caught my attention. I peeked inside and found Cyrene sitting at a small, round table by a lamp, her head bowed to a radio as she listened to the grave voice of a British newscaster. She sipped from the steaming teacup in her hands.

  “Transmissions from Warsaw bring dire announcement on this morning of September 1, 1939: German planes have bombed numerous Polish towns, leaving many dead and injured among the ruins. Berlin has released the following statement from Herr Hitler: ‘The Polish state has refused the peaceful settlement of relations which I desired and has appealed to arms. Germans in Poland are persecuted with bloody terror and driven from their houses.’”

  Cyrene looked up at me and turned the radio’s volume low. “Hello, Ziva. How are you faring?”

  “Better than others,” I replied, thinking of Sayer and Nasira. “Has the canopic jar been translated yet?”

  She nodded solemnly. “We’re working on it. There must be clues as to what to do with the sacred organ and where to find the others. We’ll leave for Egypt as soon as possible. We will take Haya home for burial.”

  Unrest stirred within me. I licked my lips and sat in the chair across from her. The room was so quiet the antique chair’s squeak made me tense.

  “Is all this worth it?” I dared to ask. “The lives of our friends and families lost, the injuries, the suffering . . . Do you really believe we can make a difference?”

  “We have to,” Cyrene said. “Already too many with power will stand aside and expect someone else to stop evil. We can’t join their idleness and allow the world to fall into darkness.”

  Static on the radio buzzed, and I listened once more. “BBC has announced television service has been suspended until further notice. During a meeting with the Privy Council today, the king signed orders of complete mobilization of the Army, Air Force, and Navy, among other proclamations.”

  Ice pushed through my veins. “War has begun,” I whispered.

  “Britain and France will officially declare war soon, without a doubt,” Cyrene said. “Germany has seized all of Austria and Czechoslovakia. Now they take Poland. I find it amusing no one came to our defense when the French occupied Egypt, Algeria, Morocco . . . They sit marionette rulers on our thrones, giving the illusion our countries are still ours, yet the colonizers pull the strings.”

  She spat that last word as though it were venom in her mouth. She took another sip of her tea. When the cup left her mouth, her bottom lip quivered until she bit down to stop it.

  “They only see us as a people to be subjugated,” she continued, “and Germany will do the same to Poland, though I admit their visions of violent grandeur are more sinister. Their goals aren’t merely to expand their territory and enslave the Polish people. This is lebensraum. A harmless word by itself—it means ‘living space’—but to the Reich, it means expanding their race. Their armies will spread, swallowing the world as they feed and grow. This is what’s at stake, Ziva, and you’re the key to it all.”

  “Our power could be the weapon they never saw coming,” I said, understanding. “Our magic doesn’t run out of bullets or grenades. We are stronger than they are, but we’re so few in number. And the gods—they would help us if we appealed to them.”

  “The gods removed themselves from human politics eons ago,” Cyrene said sadly. “They’ve turned their backs to our plight.”

  “Anubis is on our side, though,” I insisted. “He may be the only one so far, but he’s the keeper and protector of the dead against evil. The things he’s capable of—they must be more powerful than anything humanity could comprehend.”

  Cyrene offered me a small, weak smile. “Your optimism might be the only thing to keep us afloat.”

  “Hope has kept my head above water for my entire life,” I told her. “When Sayer and Nasira found me, it was like they’d pulled me onto dry land. Now I’m up and running and nothing will stop me.”

  Her face fell, weary. “But we will need more than optimism to save our lands. After the Great War, Europe was crushed and unable to drag itself out of its own ruin. Both Britain and France were under tremendous domestic pressure not to rebuild their infantries. The memory of the trenches and the gas attacks and the endless killing was still too fresh in their peoples’ minds. This was the perfect time for hate and fear to take hold.”

  “How could an ancient queen who died thousands of years before electricity and airplanes save us from another world war?” I asked. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to sound contrary.”

  She leaned forward and turned the radio’s knob all the way off. “Once Nefertari has fully regenerated, she shall possess powers no army could withstand. Human technology, even modern, would mean nothing to her. Not guns, not bombs. Nefertari will be immortal. A goddess. Nefertari ruled the most prosperous and richest dynasty of the ancient world. She will heal this scorched earth.”

  I wouldn’t continue to question her. Of course, I wanted Hitler and his forces to be stopped. Still, I couldn’t help feeling skeptical. The Medjai had power the Nazis couldn’t fathom. The gods could lay waste to nations. Was it necessary to upend the entire world to save it? How far did we really need to go?

  A warm glow on the horizon told me the sun was about to rise, but Nasira still hadn’t stirred. I sat in a chair beside her bed, watching for any signs of distress or even life. So far, she’d rested peacefully. Sayer slouched on a couch in the corner with his arms folded and head hanging. Every time he had dozed off, his face would pinch with pain and he would grumble in his sleep. I didn’t know what his dreams contained, but I knew they couldn’t have been sweet.

  Nasira stirred groggily and drew a deep breath only to shudder in pain. A low groan escaped her. I leaned forward and whispered her name. She gave no response.

  “Psst, hey!” I hissed harshly at Sayer. He continued to snooze. I grabbed one of the unused pillows and tossed it at him. He jumped awake, looking about himself in confusion. I waved to catch his attention and pointed down at his sister. He understood at last and shot to his feet. In one long stride, he reached her.

  “Nasira?” he whispered with such tenderness. He smoothed his hand over her head. “It’s me. Ziva’s here too.”

  She opened her eyes, looking first at her brother and then at me, blinking hard and frowning.

  “Good morning, spitfire,” I said gently with a smile, warm with relief.

  Her bottom lip trembled, and her complexion reddened. Her hands took tight fistfuls of the silky sheets. Her huge, round lamb’s eyes filled with tears. She looked like a little girl and my heart ached for her. She inhaled shakily and exhaled a single word, “Mum?”

  The warmth I felt cracked and split like ice. I looked at Sayer.

  He licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, but his hesitation and silence told her everything. She burst into tears, covering her face with the sheet and rolling over onto her side toward me. I draped over her like a shield, holding her tight and murmuring to her softly.

  “I’m sorry, Nasi,” Sayer said. “It should’ve been me in the car with you. It should’ve been me, not Mum.”

  “She died for something great,” I urged, fractured by the guilt in his voice.

  Nasira stared at me, her face red and stained with tears, and she said tightly, “If you’ve never loved anyone, then you don’t know what’s worth dying for.”

  The breath rushed from Sayer and he pulled his sister into his arms. I stared at her
shuddering form, my brain smacked clean. Sayer met my gaze and he offered me an apologetic look.

  I understood Nasira hadn’t meant to hurt me. She was right after all. What was worth dying for? What had this world ever done for me that I would die for it?

  I was in no position to say a word to either of them. No matter how many times I told Nasira and Sayer how sorry I was for them, how sad I was, how fervently I wished everything had gone differently, how much we would make Kauket suffer for what she did . . . no words could bring back Haya or make anyone feel any less pain. I may not have had any experience in dealing with loss, but I knew that much. They said time eased pain, but I didn’t know how much time was needed. I didn’t know what Nasira and Sayer needed at all. I could only sit, helpless, and watch them suffer.

  Once Nasira had cried herself back to sleep, Sayer and I stepped out into the hallway. He pulled his mussed hair from its tie and refastened it tighter. He tucked wisps of his dark hair behind his ears.

  “Have you had any sleep at all?” he asked kindly.

  I shrugged. “Not sure I could.”

  “You should try,” he said. “You’ll be surprised how tired you are once you hit that pillow. Sleep is healing, I promise you.”

  I offered him a small smile and nodded in agreement. “I admire you for being strong for your sister.”

  He dropped his head, his brow furrowing, and he seemed to search for his words. “I don’t know if I’m being strong. Sitting and feeling sorry for myself won’t change things. What happened was out of my hands. The only thing I do have control of is what I choose to do next. I choose to carry on.”

  He turned to leave and paused, gazing down into my face. A strange emotion seemed to come over him, one I couldn’t identify. I’d once teased him about reading my mind, and the intensity in his gaze made me wonder if he really could. He seemed to search desperately for something in my eyes and I wished, between the two of us, I was the mind reader. I admired his resilience, but he needed to allow himself to grieve.