Recreated (30 page)

“I am that child.

“My old nursemaid died soon after, taking her terrible secret to the grave. Once I knew the truth, it tormented me. Over the years I became paranoid. Every servant who looked my way, every merchant who studied my face too long, was banished from my presence. Once, a self-proclaimed uncle appeared, demanding money in return for his silence. He claimed he knew who my real mother was. I threw him in prison. After starving him for months he finally told me where to find my real family.

“I disguised myself and went to see them in the heat of the evening. I spied on them and discovered that the man who was my true father was a drunkard. He abused his wife and his other children, my sisters. Soon after, the rumor was that my family had left. In a drunken rage my father had killed my mother and then sold his progeny off to various traders who paid him in drink.

“Again I felt not outrage. Not sorrow. Instead I felt the sweet joy of relief. My mother and my sisters would never try to come find me. They were gone.”

“Oh, Asten,” I said, and stretched out a hand to him, but he stepped away.

“I'd done nothing to help her. My real mother died as a result of my fear, my complacency. My cowardice has been my shadow all these years. The boy, the prince I was, disappeared, and in his place was a doppelganger, a changeling, who was truly loved by no one, wanted by no one, and missed by no one. When I died, my final thought was that I could finally be at peace knowing it no longer mattered whose son I was.”

Asten turned to Ahmose, who stood frozen in place, his hands at his side, an expression of shock on his face. “Do you see, Ahmose? I am
not
your brother. I am not the man who was destined to do this work.” He looked at Anubis. “What I am is a fraud. When I confessed as much to Anubis after he took us away from our homes to explain our new roles, he told me it was too late. He'd already imbued me with his power. There was no taking it back.” Asten lifted his arms, palms up, as if sacrificing himself on the battlefield. “I was the son of a
bricklayer
”—he almost spat the word—“raised by a king and queen who, even at the end of their mortal lives, had no idea that their son was an imposter.”

Glancing at me, Asten said, “That is why I was desperate to help the queen, the woman I called Mother, though she wasn't mine, have another child. Even though the witch who helped me with the potion haggled for a price that was…unthinkable, I felt I had no choice. At the time I thought that if she might have another son, I could quietly disappear and he could rule.

“And now you know the whole sordid tale.” Asten held up his hand and ticked the list of his mistakes off his fingers. “I've lied. I've deceived others, almost all my life. I've killed. I've been selfish. I've stood by and done nothing to confront the abuse of my own flesh and blood. I've cast the innocent in prison. Banished the blameless. I've usurped the life of a royal prince, one destined to do great things. And I was paranoid about losing my position every hour of every day. I'm called a Son of Egypt, the Prince of Waset, and yet I am unworthy of those titles. Where my brothers are silver, I am a stone. They are tall cedar trees and I am the common sycamore.”

I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle a sob. How could Asten have kept these things hidden deep within his heart all this time? He was good at wearing a mask. I would never have guessed how dark his thoughts were. How much he'd buried behind his self-confident grin.

“Is there anything more?” Ma'at asked, her face still fixed in a neutral expression.

Asten thought for a moment and then nodded. “We spoke of Amon's true name and I don't even know mine. What name did my birth mother call me? What kind of legacy could I have possibly had if my own mother gave me up for money and my father sold his own offspring? All that I am is a pretense. I've used my
prodigious
legacy to build up a wall of deception so high and strong there is no way to topple it.”

When the echo of his words faded, the only sound in the room was the rise and fall of our breaths. The slight sound of the scale shifting caught my attention. Ma'at glanced at it and narrowed her eyes, studying the movement for a time. I held my breath as the scale rose and fell, and finally it settled with the heart a few inches lower than the feather, much lower than Amon's had been.

I was about to say something, to protest, to fight for Asten or defend him by telling Ma'at all of the good I'd seen him do, but Ma'at seemed to anticipate my outburst and raised a finger of warning that effectively shut me up. Instead of casting her judgment or asking Asten more questions, she turned to Anubis.

“Why have you kept the knowledge of who he is from us?”

“I did not consider it important.”

“He is mortal.”

“Not anymore.” Anubis shifted and raised his eyes to Asten.

Ma'at tilted her head. “That's why you chose him, isn't it?”

Anubis stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Amon and Ahmose were conceived supernaturally. Asten wasn't.”

“That is true. It makes no difference, though.”

“Doesn't it?” Ma'at asked.

“No.”

“You had to know,” Ma'at accused. “As a supernatural death, you must have been called to the baby's side, the true prince, to escort him to Heliopolis to help him begin his journey. You knew he was gone and yet you insisted that the Sons of Egypt would be able to bear the burdens of the cosmos.”

“And I was right, wasn't I?”

“So far. You were lucky. If we had known—”

“If you had known, Seth wouldn't be contained. Only the three who were created by him but nurtured by us have the power to keep him at bay.”

“But we don't have three, do we? We have two. Asten shouldn't have the ability to wield the strength of his brothers.” Ma'at narrowed her eyes at the powerful god, but he stood his ground, not giving an inch. “How did you do it?” she asked.

Smiling, Anubis said, “I fashioned a boy from snips and snails and puppy dog tails.”

An exasperated hiss left Ma'at's lips. “I see you plan on keeping your secrets, then.”

“Just as you keep yours, Ma'at.”

“I have no secrets,” she exclaimed, and yet I saw a tiny hint of alarm cross her eyes.

Ma'at approached the dais. “Tell me, Asten. Have you dreamed your own dreams?”

Asten turned his head and appeared reluctant to speak. Finally, he said, “Do you speak of the Dreams That Could Have Been?”

The goddess sighed impatiently. “You know what I mean,” she said. “I don't care about your dreams of racing horses or of beautiful girls prancing around you in a meadow.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Asten said, “I have seen more than one future path.”

“And?” She leaned forward expectantly.

Asten shrugged. “Do they matter? Perhaps my dreams don't even apply to me. You know very well that I only see one future for each soul, one dream of a perfect life, full of happiness. Seeing that there are several potential outcomes for me proves there's something wrong. I'm wrong. My soul is broken, so what do my dreams matter? I know that all of those possibilities are beyond me anyhow.”

“He could be right,” Nephthys said. “Maybe it doesn't work with him. If he was the true prince, the power of dreaming would be easier for him to access. You know he struggles with calling forth the dreams sometimes.”

Ma'at considered her words. “That is true. Giving powers such as we did to a mortal should have broken him long ago. It's surprising that he still functions as well as he does.” She seemed to come to a decision. “Very well, just answer one question.”

“What is it?” Asten asked wearily.

“Do your dreams include her?”

Ma'at pointed to me and I inhaled sharply. Asten lifted his eyes to mine, and there was something in them that seemed both hopeful and horrified.

After a tension-filled moment, he admitted softly, “They do.” My heart stilled. “But that is the dream that must not come to pass,” he said.

“Why?” Ma'at didn't ask this time. I did.

My skin tingled and I found it difficult to breathe. I felt as if I were trapped in a very tight space and the only thing keeping me focused on not hyperventilating was Asten. There was something tangible between us. Something warm that filled my frame and the space around me. It felt wrong and yet right at the same time.

“Why?” I repeated.

“Because…”

My gaze locked on to his and I found I couldn't look away,

“…because if that dream is a true one, a real one, then it will mean that I have betrayed my brother,” he said softly. “And that is not something I could live with.”

The two of us were standing several feet apart, but for a brief moment I felt as if we were close enough to touch. I became highly attuned to his body and took in his broad shoulders, his generous mouth, the way a lock of his hair curled over his forehead, and how his eyes could somehow warm me with just a look. Balmy tingles trickled down my spine as if someone had just caressed my bare skin.

Osiris interrupted. “Are you going to judge the boy, then, Ma'at?”

The warmth left my skin and was replaced with spine-chilling fear. Though I knew we needed to get to the netherworld somehow, I didn't want to risk Asten's immortal soul to do it.

“Yes. Let's get this over with,” Anubis said.

Placing the feather in its box, Ma'at cupped Asten's heart in her hands and raised her arms in the air. “Asten, Son of Egypt. You have submitted your heart for judgment. Your soul stands as a witness against you. I decree…that the deeds of your past cannot be properly judged at this time, for you have not had sufficient time to be absolved of these offenses. The intervening of a god has warped your timeline, and as such, I will grant a temporary stay of judgment.”

Nephthys smiled, moving to stand, but Ma'at's next words stopped her in her tracks. “However,” she said, “to atone for your crimes, I sentence you to the netherworld to serve as a guide for Lily and Tia. Should you survive the trials there, gain the forgiveness of your brothers, and learn to place others before yourself, we will reassess your placement—that is, of course, contingent upon a successful return.”

As one, the gods rose and approached the dais. Side by side with sober expressions they waited while Ma'at finished. “Mercy and truth be with you, Asten. We banish your heart to the netherworld.”

The air flickered, the starlit substance on the scales catching fire before it extinguished, leaving only spinning pieces of black char. The room shook and Asten fell to his knees, writhing and moaning.

I ran to him, clutching him close, just as everything stilled.

Then Asten let out a piercing scream, his heart fragmenting into tiny pieces as his lifeless body stayed slumped in my arms.

Anubis took hold of my hand. “The tether is now active. When you are ready to leave the netherworld, stretch out your hand and think of me. It will lead you to an exit point and I will come to retrieve you. Ahmose will accompany you, as he is particularly suited to keep you on the straight and narrow.” He looked at Ahmose. “It is up to you now, Pathfinder.”

“I understand,” Ahmose answered.

“What happens next?” I asked, now that the gods had disappeared and the bright hall was once again swathed in darkness.

Ahmose crouched down next to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “We wait,” he said. “It shouldn't take long now.”

“What are we waiting for?” I asked as I brushed Asten's hair from his forehead. His skin was smooth and still warm to the touch. His face seemed at peace. I hoped that he'd get the second chance Ma'at spoke of, that she'd be able to somehow see Asten as I did. He'd made mistakes, but I didn't think they were irredeemable ones. My heart wept for him and for all he'd been through, but I took comfort in knowing that Anubis had seen in Asten what I had. He gave Asten his power even knowing everything. That had to mean something.

As I made a mental list of the possible reasons Anubis had kept Asten's secret for so long, I felt the man I was holding stir. His eyes fluttering open, he slowly got to his feet. When I asked if he was okay, he didn't respond but began moving forward in a trancelike state. “What's wrong with him?” I asked Ahmose as I shifted aside during Asten's attempt to walk right over me.

“He's headed toward the gate. Stay close to me.”

We followed Asten down a long hallway, and when he came to a dead end, he didn't hesitate, instead going straight through. “We won't be able to see it,” Ahmose warned. “Only the doomed can feel the call of the netherworld.”

“But then how did Amon—” I was about to finish the question when Ahmose took hold of my arm.

“He's going through!” he shouted. “Hurry, Lily!”

Before I understood what was happening, Ahmose grabbed on to Asten's shoulder and wound his other arm around my waist. It was a good thing he did, because the three of us were then sucked into a vortex, a cyclone of wind so powerful that it lifted my hair from my head, drawing us through the stone wall as we tumbled together in dizzying circles.

Ahmose's grip on his brother slipped and he struggled to grab his tunic and then his wrist. At the same time he yanked me close. I wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my head in his chest as the gale howled around us. Thoroughly ill from the spinning, I tried desperately not to throw up on Ahmose, an act that would be extremely ungrateful considering that he was the only steady presence in all this tumult.

Just when I thought I couldn't last another minute, the turning stopped, and we had only a brief moment of respite before it began twisting us in the opposite direction, slowly at first and then faster and faster. I swallowed and bit my lip until it bled, hoping to distract myself from the feeling of vertigo.

“We're transitioning now from the upper to the nether!” Ahmose shouted.

Even if I had wanted to respond, I wouldn't have been able to. The winds pummeled us and I got so turned around, I wasn't sure which direction we were going. My hair wound around my face like a flag in a hurricane. If I thought I was sick before, I felt ready to expire now. Even Tia with her natural cat instincts couldn't help me retrieve my balance, and she was so terrified anyway, I could barely keep her focused. I pleaded silently at first and then in desperate whispers for it to be over, and then I remembered the token Horus had given me.

Digging the fingers of my left hand into Ahmose's back, I slowly lifted my right to the ornament that hung around my neck. As I cupped it, it grew warm and the force of the squall lessened. The twisting slowed and we moved weightily, like a pair of tennis shoes in a dryer, thumping and knocking against each other as we tumbled before we finally we came to a stop.

I opened my eyes and blew the wild, windblown hair out of my face. Ahmose asked if I was okay and in response I nodded, only able to give him a weak smile. Once again I was grateful not only for his strength and his ability to keep the three of us together but also for his calming presence. We were still gradually descending, but our bodies began falling lightly, softly, like a dandelion seed. Without the wind, the sensation was almost gentle.

Ahmose grunted as he shifted his brother closer. “Can you hold on to my neck, Lily?” he asked.

“Yes.” I wrapped one arm around his neck and then the other, locking my wrists when I realized that my muscles no longer strained to hold on to him. “When they said we'd be riding his coattails, I didn't think they meant it literally,” I said as I looked down at Asten's back. He hadn't spoken since his collapse, and I wondered if he would be a zombie the entire time we were in the netherworld. The idea of it made me very uneasy.

“This is quite dangerous, Lily. You must stay close to me at all times.”

I shifted my attention to Ahmose's face, which was a mere few inches from mine. His steel-gray eyes were filled with worry. Nodding, I answered, “I will. Believe me, you don't have to tell me twice.”

“Good.” His warm hand was splayed against my lower back, and goose bumps rose up my arms. I suddenly became aware of how closely our bodies were locked together. His face brushed against mine, and the sensation of his rough stubble against my soft cheek was pleasant enough to cause a shiver. I also noticed how nice his skin smelled—like a deciduous forest, all oak trees, moss, and the crisp spices of fall.

A light from below us lit his skin, causing his gray eyes to take on a silver sheen, and my breath caught, lost in them for just a moment. He glanced down and squeezed my waist. “Hold on, Lily. We're almost there.”

What is wrong with me?
I asked Tia.

Anubis did say you have a connection with all three brothers. Perhaps this is a result of its manifestation. In times of stress, a lioness looks to her protector and bonds with those who will defend the pride.

Well, if stress is the trigger, then we have a good excuse, at least,
I thought to her, shaking away the feeling.

Tightening my grip on his neck, and ignoring the fact that I felt safe being held by Ahmose, I closed my eyes and waited for the impact. I opened them in surprise when I felt Ahmose's arms wrap fully around my waist and lower me to the ground without so much as a jostle.

Asten, who Ahmose had dropped onto the sand, was slowly getting to his feet, while Ahmose stepped away, rubbing the back of his neck and watching me out of the corner of his eye. I wondered if he had been as affected by me as I'd been by him and felt more comfortable not meeting his eyes.

Quickly moving into his line of sight, I called Asten's name, and when he didn't respond, I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He didn't so much as twitch. I tried to swallow my disappointment and then cocked my head, wondering why I felt that particular emotion.
Did I want
his
attention, too?

“He won't be able to answer us until we find his heart,” Ahmose explained.

“Ah, I see,” I said, still not making eye contact. “So, where do we begin looking?” I asked as I reluctantly let go of Asten.

“The heart seeks out the thing that pains him the most. A banished soul only recovers his heart if he fights the demons that haunt him. The worse the crime, the more sore the battle. Whatever demon has the strongest hold on Asten's heart will be guarding it. If we follow Asten, he'll be drawn toward his monster.”

“Right.”

Ahmose lifted his eyes, peering into the foreboding landscape around us. We seemed to be in a wasteland. A burning, sulfurous scent was carried on the wind. Large mounds of dirt and rocks were piled up haphazardly. With my sphinx eyesight, I could detect the slight pulsing of a few of them, which, if they had been on earth, would have made me think they were termite mounds. Since they were in the netherworld, who knew what kind of horrible creatures made the hills their homes.

At first, I thought the terrain similar to the Place Where Dreams Are Born with its pinnacles and rock formations, but upon further inspection, the colors that brightened the rock were garish and menacing. The mounds of stone cast dark shadows where sinister things quivered and hid or slunk through the dusky gloom. Instead of beauty, I was struck by the idea that death and decay were slowly eating away at the landscape.

The ground was rocky with sharp stones that peppered the sand. And the thick depth of the grains sucked at our feet, nearly toppling me with every step as I slogged through it. My white sandals were quickly becoming uncomfortable. The only landmarks I spied were a few barren and ugly trees that stretched out sharp, skeletal claws to snag my hair. Tia lent me her strength so I could tolerate the hellish temperature, but she could do nothing about the stench of sulfur and corruption.

Asten seemed to be headed toward the place where the sulfur smell was emanating from. Not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing, I checked that our knives were ready and that my bow and the quiver of arrows were still at my back and then started after him.

My heart told me Amon was in a different direction, but I feared that if we didn't follow Asten, we'd lose him. Tia agreed and we began tracking him. Within four steps, I was struggling to catch up. Asten glided over the terrain like a ghost, while I slogged as if moving through mud. “He's getting ahead of us,” I called out.

“Here,” Ahmose said. “Take my hand. I can find the surest path.”

I placed my hand in his and it was quickly enveloped in his large, warm palm.

This feels nice,
Tia said.
Not like the embrace of Horus, but it is soothing. Comforting. I understand your desire regarding this one. Your cubs would be of a good size and healthy.

Gah! You're talking about cubs? Cut it out! This is weird enough as it is,
I thought back to her.
I am way, way too young to be thinking about offspring.

You are not capable of reproduction at your age?
she asked.

This was getting uncomfortable. I explained reluctantly,
My body has the
ability,
but humans don't usually reproduce until they have settled down. They finish college, get married, and buy a house first.

Ah,
she said.
It would be appropriate, I suppose, to find the proper location for the raising of cubs first. Since you are in a transitory state, it makes sense to hold off for a time.

Ignoring my inner lioness, I turned my attention back to Ahmose, who had been holding out his other hand, stretching it over the top of the sand. Nothing happened at first, but then the grains began to shift. Asten kept moving ahead, and I worried again that he would get away from us. The sand hardened and a crooked path formed, coming in and out of view.

Ahmose stepped up onto a section of firm sand. “If we walk this path, we will avoid the pitfalls that would swallow us up and lead to destruction,” he said.

“What about Asten?”

“Asten must walk his own path. We will stay as close to him as we can and only deviate from the path if absolutely necessary.”

“Okay,” I said. “Lead the way.”

I hoped that as soon as I saw Amon again, these awkward feelings I was developing regarding other men would disappear. Whether they were originating from Tia or not, I was apparently a willing, if reluctant, participant.

I tried not to think about it, but since she was, at that very moment, thinking about Ahmose's well-defined arms, my thoughts drifted in that direction as well. She was wondering if she could come to love either one of them, and I couldn't fault her for that. They were both good choices.

Her thoughts particularly drifted in Asten's direction and as we walked she replayed his confession in her mind. She empathized with him, for she, too, felt out of place and less than worthy. The idea that Tia considered herself not as important as I was shocked me, and I made a promise to try to give her opinions and thoughts equal weight.