The Age of Ra (42 page)

If only you knew, thought David.

He scanned around for Zafirah. Couldn't find her. Had she even made it to the mountain? He had no idea. She could have died down there on the plain during the final retreat, for all he knew.

In these, his last moments of life, he would have liked to see her again, one last time. Just so that he could say he was sorry for being such an idiot. Sorry, too, for everything his brother had done to her and her countrymen.

The Lightbringer called out to everyone within earshot. As far as David could glean, he was telling them not to worry, help was at hand.

Help? David thought. You lying sack of shit. What help?

There was no one nearby who was going to come to the Freegyptians' rescue. To the west David could see the forefront of the Setic task force, consisting of several dozen Scarab tanks and some heavier-duty artillery units, including a number of mobile rocket launchers. They were all in position, ready for an assault on Mount Megiddo. Doubtless the Nephthysians had called up the bombers to pre-empt that. They were determined that credit for the final quashing of the infidel uprising would be theirs, not the Setics'.

As David looked down at the Setic battalions, the word that sprang to mind was overkill. The KSD must have been truly unnerved by the Lightbringer to send down a task force as immense as this. Either that or it was an expression of how little confidence they had in their Nephthysian allies to do the job properly. But still, David was struck by the inordinate levels of manpower and firepower the Setics had committed to the field. It was a mark of how the Lightbringer had got under their skin, or, to be accurate, the skin of their god.

But then that was Steven for you. A man with a true talent for annoyance.

David felt an odd, mental snagging sensation. He reviewed what he had just been musing on. Something was there, in the train of thought that had just gone by. Something that might explain Steven's current state of confident calmness. Something that would account for it, other than that the Lightbringer dare not show uncertainty in the presence of his followers, even in the face of certain doom.

Mark. Skin. God.

Of course.

Of course!

David could have slapped himself. It was blindingly obvious. He would have realised it sooner had he not been so preoccupied with bullying the truth out of Steven.

The nearest of the Typhons was almost level with Mount Megiddo. Bomb bay doors open. Bombs at the ready.

Steven had allied himself with a god.

Which god?

Only the member of the Pantheon who ruled the bloc that presently had a vast army assembled to the north, east and west of the mountain.

Only Set himself.

A moment later, a surface-to-air missile was snaking its way up from the Setic ranks towards the leading Typhon.

A moment after that, the Typhon was a ball of reddish-purple light.

And a moment after
that
, the other seven bombers were on the receiving end of a blitz of long-range ordnance. One after another they popped like bubbles in the air, bathing the plain in shades of scarlet and magenta, cherry and lilac, burgundy and mauve. The echoes of eight massive detonations rippled along the valley and across the land, and as they faded an astonished cheer went up from the top of Mount Megiddo, a chorus of relief and disbelief.

Saved.

By the Setics?

The Freegyptians turned to their leader, looking for an explanation.

But the Lightbringer said nothing, and his masked face was inscrutable.

Only David understood, and even he wasn't entirely sure what was going on.

Meanwhile the Setic task force swung into action. It flowed around the mountain like floodwater and poured into the valley to smash into the Nephthysians, who could not resist, who barely had a chance to defend themselves. One army swept the other before it. Hapless, helpless, taken completely by surprise, the Nephthysians were driven back, back, back down the plain, and the Setic task force rolled on, wave after wave, southward and further, leaving debris and bodies and a shredded-to-ribbons pact in their wake.

36. Set

N
ephthys suddenly clutches her chest.

''Wha-?'' she gasps. ''What is this? I feel...''

Her eyes roll. She swoons. Isis is there to catch her and lower her to the deck. Cradling her sister's head in her lap, she fans her face. ''Water!'' Isis calls out. ''Somebody fetch some water.''

Bast arrives with a pitcher and cup. She pours from one to the other fastidiously, careful not to let a drop fall on herself, then hands the cup to Isis. Isis tips water between Nephthys's lips, and gradually, eyelids fluttering, the stricken goddess comes round.

Nephthys searches the faces of the gods who are standing around her. Her gaze finds the only one that isn't showing concern.

''You,'' she hisses. ''This is you, isn't it?''

Set cannot hide his mirth. ''My dear sister-wife, are you not feeling well? You seem to have had a nasty turn. Whatever can it be?''

''You... are hurting me. On earth. Your mortals... attack mine.''

''Now why would that be?'' Set says, feigning puzzlement. ''Oh wait. Could it be because you're a treacherous, adulterous slut? Because you slept with our brother and then denied it? Because you gave me a son who isn't even mine but whom you expected me to call my own? Because you shun me in favour of our sister? I very much think it could be.''

''Set, you have turned on your own wife?'' says Osiris, aghast.

''Yes, brother, that is precisely what I have done,'' says Set. ''For someone as uxorious as yourself, I know that seems like the worst crime anyone could commit. For me, it's just long-overdue payback. How long have I had to endure marriage to this conniving, two-timing bitch? Too long! And with no end in sight. An eternity of wedlock stretching before us. I couldn't take it any more. Nephthys has made a laughing stock of me. I heard you, all of you'' - he wheels around, glaring at all the gods on the boat - ''whispering about me, passing comment behind my back. Set the cuckold. Set the unwitting stepfather of a bastard. Finding even more reason to spurn me and mock me. And it was all her fault!'' He jabs an accusing finger at Nephthys.

''And so now you're killing her?''

This comes from Ra. His face is pale, so pale it nearly matches the colour of his moon eye. He trembles with sorrow and indignation.

''I don't know about that. Maybe,'' says Set. ''Certainly the armies of my kingdom have begun making inroads into hers, and there will be slaughter. Whether or not Nephthys dies from that remains to be seen. What I
am
doing is punishing her. For a long time my sister-wife has treated me abominably. I have borne it with as much restraint as I can, but enough is enough. Now, at last, I am returning the compliment.''

''Set, please...'' Nephthys begs. ''I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I did. Stop this now.''

Her brother-husband shrugs. ''Stop? When I have hardly even started? I don't think so.''

''Father,'' says Anubis, stepping forward. ''To deal with my mother in this way - it is unnecessarily cruel.''

''On the contrary,'' says Set. ''Never has cruelty been more necessary. Now all of you will learn that I am not to be trifled with. I am not to be looked down on and used as a general whipping-boy, the butt of everyone's contempt. After this, when you see what I am prepared to do to my own wife, my closest of kin, my own flesh and blood, you will no longer be so quick to belittle me. You will look at me with new eyes, and in those eyes there will be
respect
.''

His irises glow like twin volcanoes. The light in them is terrible to behold, as vindictive as it is self-righteous.

Ra groans like someone who has been punched in the stomach. ''You are the one who created the Lightbringer,'' he says. ''All along it was you. Here on the Boat of a Million Years, right under my nose, you were carrying out all these machinations.''

''Of course, Great-Great-Uncle. Who else could it have been? We are what we are. Each of us has his or her own nature and cannot help but be true to it. I am Set, who beguiles and dupes, and you are Ra, whose kind, forgiving temperament blinkers him to the dark secrets that lie in others' hearts.''

''But allying yourself with a mortal and sparking an infidel revolt - what for? What to gain?''

''A ruse,'' says Set simply. ''To camouflage my true intentions. The Lightbringer has been, if you will, a smokescreen. His crusade was nothing more than a means of manoeuvring my mortals and Nephthys's into a position where mine could strike against hers with maximum effectiveness. But do not judge me too harshly, O Ra. You sought peace among us, and for a time the Lightbringer gave you just that. We all rallied together against him, and your dearest wish was granted.'' A crowing laugh. ''But only for a time.''

Ra is fuming. He cannot remember when he last felt so abused and debased. He strides up to Set and - unable to help himself - lashes out at him with a backhand slap. The blow catches Set by surprise and he falls to his knees. He rises instantly, poised to retaliate, but before he can both Bast and Neith have pounced on him. They wrestle him back down to the boards of the deck. Bast yowls a warning at him, slashing the air in front of his face with fingers like talons, while Neith just gruffly tells him to stay put or lose his balls again.

''I... regret that,'' says Ra, ashamed. ''It was wrong of me. I lost control.''

''Do no berate yourself, All-Father,'' says Isis. ''You only did what the rest of us wanted to.''

''Even so. Unforgivable.'' Ra squats down on his hunkers, so that his face is close to Set's. ''What you have done is unforgivable too, Set.''

''So?'' Set sneers. ''Punish me then. Oops, no you can't. You're already doing that, twice a day.''

''I want you to rethink all this. Leave Nephthys be. You've made your point. You'd like the rest of us to respect you? Do the decent thing, call off your armies, and we will.''

''No one will respect an act of weakness like that.''

''Then you'd rather your fellow gods went on hating you? Even more than before? Because that's what will happen if you continue to harm your sister-wife.''

''I can live with it. Besides'' - Set twists his head to look at Horus - ''not all of you hate me. Eh, Horus?''

The one-eyed god, once Set's most implacable foe, nods conspiratorially. ''Your ruthlessness is to be admired, Uncle,'' he says. ''I could learn a thing or two from your example. Perhaps we should try to forge a closer partnership. At the earliest opportunity we must get together and have a free and full exchange of... ideas.''

The two share a lustful smile. Meanwhile Nephthys moans. Her fate, it seems, is sealed.

Ra straightens up, despondent. It is the worst outcome possible. Nothing is any different. The Pantheon is still at war with itself. The allegiances may have changed but the antagonism remains. Peace flowered briefly, and has withered and died.

There is nothing he can do. Nothing but let his hands drop to his sides and say, ''That's it, then. I give up. I tried my best. I failed. Enough. No more. It's over. You may all go. Return to your palaces. Resume your feuding if you wish. Somehow I think you're happier that way. Contentment, consensus, harmony - you say you want them but you don't. They only bore you. Go. Now. Go!''

Thus commanded, the gods disperse. Osiris and Isis take the ailing Nephthys with them. Anubis storms off, his expression saying that he has much to be morose about and will take great pleasure in wallowing in that moroseness. Horus and Set depart together, inevitably. Set leaves with an insouciant wave, promising he'll be back to face Apophis at sundown.

Soon there is no one on the Solar Barque but Ra, Bast, Maat, Ammut and Thoth.

Thoth says to Ra, ''So what now, my lord?''

Ra eyes his wizened vizier.

He sighs, bitterly, resignedly.

''You know what, old friend?'' he says, after a long silence. ''I think it's time for a change. I'm done with all this. I'm weary. I feel twilight upon me, an evening of the soul, a lengthening of the shadows. I've done as much as I can do, and I have no more to give.''

''This talk smacks of defeatism.''

''No, of pragmatism. The time has come for something new. I need to step aside. Just as I gave up being King of the Earth, now I must give up being ruler of the gods.''

''Must you?''

''I must.''

''But if you do,'' says Thoth, worry adding to the many wrinkles on his face, ''who will replace you? You are Ra, the greatest of us, whose brightness has warmed us since time immemorial, whose light is our benison. To whom will you pass on the crown?''