Spell Bound (A Fairy Retelling #3) (17 page)

“Aniya, no!” Nehi shouts. “He’ll be able to do anything with that. He’d be too powerful to stop.”

“Silence!” Rahotep shouts. Nehi’s lips continue to move, but his voice has disappeared.

Rahotep’s gaze slides over the offering in her hands. Aniya can feel his desire. “Do you even know what the Book of the Dead is?” he asks. “You offer me the most powerful set of magical spells in the world in trade for a mere baby boy?”

“No, not the baby,” Aniya says. “For him.” She nods at Nehi. “Give me his secret name and you can have the Book of the Dead.”

Rahotep scoffs at her request. “Him! A slave boy? Fine. Once I have the spells, I won’t need him to hold the magic anymore. I’ll be able to wield it myself.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

Rahotep steps forward, grinning at Aniya’s foolish choice. He whispers Nehi’s secret name into her ear. She feels Nehi’s essence enter into her. It’s beautiful and good, and it longs to be reunited with its true owner.

“He can not save you,” Rahotep whispers as she hands him the wooden container.

Nefertiti places the baby on the altar as the last ray of sunlight fades and darkness falls completely. Rahotep smashes the statue of Osiris against the edge of the altar and pulls out a tightly-rolled scroll of papyrus. A red glow shines over the whole assembly. Aniya looks up to see the moon engulfed in crimson as deep and dark as blood. A cloud encircles the moon, shifting and slithering. She’s seen this beast before - the snake, Apophis, harbinger of chaos and doom. Aniya shudders as it ensares the moon with its coils, ready to devour it.

A burst of fiery wind blows out of the desert and sand rises into the air. The crowd screams and the people hide their faces from the blast. The heat of the wind is scorching even against Aniya’s spirit form. Within the wind and blowing sand, an image of darkness appears. Aniya can sense evil roiling within -- a rotting, devouring lust for chaos and power.

“Aten, the One God!” Rahotep shouts, his face a vision of rapture. But Aniya knows he is wrong. There is no Aten. There is no One God. Rahotep has been deceived. They have all been deceived. The image grows closer.

“Finish the ceremony,” a booming voice comes from the darkness. The air grows frigid as the words engulf them.

Rahotep opens the scroll and begins to read aloud.

“No! Don’t you know what that is?” Aniya shouts at him, but Rahotep ignores her. “It’s Set, the god of chaos. He’s deceived you! If you do this, all of creation will fall into chaos!”

Her words fall on deaf ears. Rahotep is caught up in the magic and the promise of eternal life.

Aniya reaches down for the baby, but her hands still can not grip the child. “Take him!” she shouts to Nehi. “Keep him safe!” The wind whips the words from her mouth, but the magic of Nehi’s secret name causes him to move anyway. He takes the child from the altar and runs.

“Fools!” Rahotep stops his spell for a moment to chide us. “The power of the One God and the Book of the Dead can not be stopped. There is nothing you can do to prevent the ceremony from happening.”

The truth of his words hit her. He has won. Her son will die. She’ll be forever lost. There is nothing she can do.

But pray.

Have all the old gods disappeared?

Aniya gathers the magic around her to amplify her voice above the sandstorm. She can no longer see the people of the city below, but she has to believe they are still there. Has to believe their hearts still long to worship the gods of Egypt. She lifts up prayer after prayer of worship to the gods, to Isis, Osiris, and Amun-Ra.

I have met them. I know them. I believe in them. I have to believe that Egypt still believes in them, too.

Her voice lifts up and with it she hears the chants and prayers of the people singing praises to the old gods along with her. Together their voices become one and rise above the roar of the wind. Eventually, the power of the magic wanes and Aniya is left nearly empty. Her voice returns to normal, but still she hears the prayers of the people lifting up into the night sky.

“Sacrilege! This is sacrilege!” Rahotep screams. “There is only the One God! There is only Aten!”

Aniya is about to answer him when the scroll in his hands bursts into blue flames, the same color as Osiris’ skin. The flames quickly devour the papyrus, but don’t stop there. They lick at Rahotep’s priestly garments and in moments, he is engulfed in them.

“No!” Nefertiti screams as she rushes forward to put out the fire. The flames jump to her long, white dress and she is encircled in blue fire as well. The blaze consumes both of them and in seconds, they are gone. Nothing remains. The Book of the Dead shrivels into ashes and blows away in the wind.

With the high priest gone, the ceremony stops. Set’s wail of defeat bursts from the desert along with a blast of sand and hot wind. Eventually the wind dies down and the sand falls to the earth, clearing the night sky. The moon is no longer encased in red. Instead, it bathes the earth in a beautiful white glow.

The people below stare up at the sky, and then Aniya realizes it’s not the moon they are staring at. It’s her. They still see her.

“Behold, the Queen of Egypt!” a voice cries out. The people of her kingdom bow down on the ground prostrate. But when they rise, she is not there.

The last wisps of magic have brought her back to her tomb. It’s dark, but torches have been lit to guide her spirit on its way. The room is decked with the finest possessions of a queen of Egypt, but the only thing that captures her attention is her body, still and rigid, lying on a table.

Aniya walks over to it, but knows she is too late. Too much time has passed and her Ka can never reunite with her flesh. She is a lost soul.

“Aniya?” a voice calls out from inside the pyramid. The stone that covered the entrance is rolled away, and a torch lights the room in a yellow glow. There is Nehi, cradling her still-sleeping son in the crook of his arm. Aniya is reminded for a moment of the cocky young man she met at the rear of the palace.

Nehi walks to the center of the room and places a hand on the linen shroud covering her body. “I’m sorry,” he says as she comes next to him and looks down into the face of her son.

“Watch over him,” she says, lifting her head to look Nehi in the eye. There is no condemnation or judgement in her face. She leans in close to him, places her mouth close to his ear and whispers his secret name. The tiny portion of his Ka slips away from her, and the moment his name has left her lips, she has forgotten it. It belongs to him now.

“Thank you,” he says.

“You must tell Egypt of the name I chose for him,” she says, motioning to her son. “He is Pharaoh now. His name shall be ‘Living Image of Amun’ to celebrate Amun-Ra, the sun god who brought me through the Duat.”

“Living Image of Amun?” Nehi asks.

“Yes. Tutankhamun. That is his name.”

“Tutankhamun. That’s a mouthful. Can I call him ‘Tut’ for short?”

Aniya laughs. It’s the first time she’s done so in such a long time. It feels so good to almost be alive.

“Yes, you can call him ‘Tut.’”

The door to the Duat opens again and Aniya feels its pull. It is where she belongs now.

“I must go. It’s time,” she says.

She wishes she could touch them, both her son and the friend who saved her life many times over. But she knows her spirit hand will pass right through them, so she keeps it safely by her side and walks through the door. And then there is nothing.

Nehi watches as Aniya disappears into the darkness. The stillness of the burial chamber is deafening. He walks over to the wall and places his hand on the cool stone where he watched his friend walk away. It is solid rock.

“Now what?” he asks the baby, but the boy has fallen asleep.

Nehi reaches for the torch, but pauses. He knows he should go, should leave Aniya in peace. Tomorrow the embalming will begin. He shouldn’t disturb her body, but still…

He walks over to the table and lifts up the burial shroud. Her cheeks are still flushed. He rubs his thumb gently over one. Her skin is still soft and warm.
How can this be?
She looks alive, as if she’s merely sleeping, but her body does not move. Her chest doesn’t rise. She’s not breathing. Nehi places his ear against her chest. No sound. Her heart is still. There is no life in her.

And yet…

Her lips remain red.

Although he knows it is impossible, she still seems alive.

Nehi leans down and presses his lips gently against hers, two slaves who found magic in each other.

Please. There still has to be some magic left.
But when he pulls away, there is no sudden breath. Her eyes do not open.

He rises up and sees a glimmer of white between her teeth. The stolen kiss shifted her lips and her jaw is open just slightly.

Nehi looks closer and sees a hint of red behind the white as well. Saying a quick prayer of forgiveness for burdening the body of the dead, he pulls Aniya’s jaw open even further and sees a sliver of apple sitting on her tongue.

Nehi’s stomach wrenches with guilt and regret. Shame floods him as he relives his part in causing her death. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t stop himself. He would never stop feeling guilty for what he did to her.

Gently, he takes the poisoned apple from her mouth and throws it to the floor, crushing it under his sandal. He would never forget his part in causing her death. He grabs the torch from the wall and begins to walk toward the tunnel when he hears a voice call out to him.

“Nehi?”

He turns around. Aniya’s body is still lying on the table, but her hands have moved. Her fingers are resting on her lips.

“Nehi?” she says again.

“Yes,” he says, drawing near to the girl who should be dead. “It’s me.”

Her fingers raise to touch his face as if testing if it’s real. When her flesh meets his, she gives a cry. Tears stream from her eyes and she places her hands on her sleeping son. Nehi helps her sit up and stares at her. “You were….you were
....”

“Dead,” she finishes. “I remember. I was in the Duat, sinking into the black Nile, ready to join the lost souls of the dead. The next thing I knew, I was here.”

Nehi drops the torch to the floor and pulls Aniya to him with his free hand.

“I can feel you,” she says, holding him close to her. “I can feel you.”

“Here,” he says, pulling back for a moment. “Hold your son.”

Aniya’s hands seem unsure at first, but at the first touch of her son’s skin against hers, she pulls him into a tight embrace. The babe breathes deep and snuggles his head against her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispers to Nehi, to the gods. “Thank you.” Tears stream down her face and laughter catches with relief in her throat.

“Forgive me, my queen,” Nehi asks as he puts a hand to her cheek.

Aniya looks him in the eye. She finally understands the pain he’s been put through. She needs for him to understand her as well. “Nehi, truly all that you have done has been forgiven.”

“Not just for what I’ve done...but for what I’m about to do.”

Nehi tilts her chin up and brings his lips down to meet hers. Her soft, warm lips move against his, filling him with love, mercy and understanding. When they finally part, Aniya brings his face to her lips and kisses away the tears streaking sandy paths on his cheeks, rivers of confession and absolution.

They bask there awhile in the comfort of each other’s embrace until Nehi retrieves the torch from the floor, puts an arm around Aniya’s shoulders, and together they leave the pyramid and all the dead behind.

Ammit, the Devourer
- Egyptian deity with the head of a crocodile, the torso of a wild cat, and the hindquarters of a hippopotamus. After death, a human’s heart would be weighed on the scales of Ma’at. If the heart was untrue, Ammit would devour the soul and it would enter into the second death

Amun-Ra
- the Egyptian sun god; each day he travels through the Duat on his ship bringing dawn, the midday sun and dusk to the living world; at night, he must battle the great snake, Apophis

Ankh
- Egyptian word meaning “life”