The Falcon Rises (The Desert Queen Book 2) Page 2

  “You are ever merciful, Great Queen Tiye.” Aperel smiled and bowed again.

  With a snort, I fixed amused eyes on Tadukhipa, whose skin turned a deep shade of red—as red as the stones on Aperel’s collar. Finally, I felt a small degree of satisfaction. As Huya filed in behind me, he winked but carefully kept the smile from his face. For as much as I hated her, Tadukhipa (or Kiya, the Monkey, as I liked to call her) was also the wife of Pharaoh Amenhotep. At any moment he could withdraw his great favor from me and make Kiya the Great Queen instead. And when my husband died and my son sat upon the throne of Egypt, how long would it be before she convinced him to do just that? He would inherit his father’s harem, including the foreign queen who would waste no time in seducing him. Even now I saw her casting those longing looks in his direction.

  This I would not allow. Whether she knew it or not, it was too late for Kiya. I had already chosen a wife for my son. A strong wife with the sand of the Red Lands in her veins.

  All I had to do now was wait. I was good at that.

  Chapter Two

  The Stubborn Dead—Orba

  Death had blazed through our camp with a mighty sword. A palpable spirit of grief loomed over us, and how cruel was the silence! The absence of the sounds of children playing heightened our sadness as we sheltered in the rocks of Saqqara waiting to hear if we would live or die. The Meshwesh spirit had been broken by the Kiffians, and now our fate hung in the balance. We were at the mercy of Egypt, and all our hopes were pinned on a girl who had never negotiated a trade much less pleaded a case in the courts of Egypt. Still, there was hope. As long as the breath of the divine rested in her, hope remained.

  I felt a deep frustration that I could not see the future. I was not a fire-watcher as Farrah had been, although I knew her power had waxed and waned. Sometimes I could see glimpses in the water, like at the pool of Timia, but there was no water here in Saqqara. None that I had found yet, but I planned to continue searching for it, both for drinking and for seeing. Now that most of the Council had been murdered by the red-haired giants, there was only Samza and me left, and Samza had barely spoken a word since the destruction. The kings would ask my counsel, I assumed. And when they did, I would not let them down.

  I stepped quietly into Semkah’s small cave shelter. I was happy to see that despite his pain and fever, he was finally asleep. He had struggled to recover from his wound; the slice had been clean, but it had been difficult to protect the wound during our journey and now it festered. He had been a good king, much better by all accounts than his father had been. Leela smiled at me as she prepared a pot of food for the wounded king. I nodded and left her to her work. I had other matters to tend to.

  I felt good about my decision to enlist the young woman’s help. Leela had the potential to become a skilled practitioner in the healing arts but needed my tutelage. There were so few now who knew the Old Ways, I could hardly be choosy. Yet I recalled that Farrah had rejected the young woman for further training for one reason or another. And although we had once been lovers, Farrah did not seek my counsel in the matter or offer an explanation to me or anyone. Her solitary mind had been both her strength and her weakness.

  I wrapped a black cloth around my head to protect it from the still blazing sun and walked through the camp. It was near dusk, and I welcomed the darkness and the relief from the heat.

  All the tribes had come together. None had refused to rally with us, and that was a good sign, yet I felt unsteady. Whenever you had more than one king in a camp, tensions would rise. Especially now that our elected mekhma had been kidnapped and possibly murdered by the Kiffians and her rejected sister represented us. The camp was quiet; only a few women worked at cooking, and I began to notice that most of the men were nowhere to be found. Omel and his retinue were absent. This did not bode well. I squatted next to Ishna and asked her quietly, “Where are they? Where are the men?”

  She tossed dried mushrooms into a brown liquid and pointed to the east without speaking. I reached in my pocket and removed a small pouch that contained a few pinches of herbs. “Here, Ishna. This is a good herb. It will give you strength.” With a gap-toothed smile, the older woman accepted the pouch and looked around for something to give me. I dared not refuse her, for this was how we lived. We gave to one another, and there was as much joy in giving as there was in receiving. At least, that was the Old Way, the way both Ishna and I chose to live. She patted her neck and removed a leather necklace with an ivory pendant. She smiled again and handed it to me, and I examined the workmanship with an appreciative smile. “This is very nice. Thank you.” Without a word but clearly happy, she stirred her food and sprinkled in some of the herbs.

  Happy to have blessed the old woman, I left her to her food and walked purposefully in the direction she had indicated. I did not have far to walk and could hear Omel’s booming voice before I saw him. He and the other kings were gathered in a rocky outcropping. Some were sitting and some were standing, but clearly it was Omel who led this meeting.

  “Kings of the Meshwesh. From the beginning I have told you that Egypt was our true friend. And now you see that my words are true, although it pains me to say that my brother was wrong. I know our current situation worries many of you, but let me assure you that all will be well. As I have reported on many occasions, we have many friends in Thebes.” Many of the men murmured, but nobody openly disagreed with him.

  I paused behind the rock to listen to more of Omel’s speech. I had always had my doubts about his loyalty to Semkah; now that the king was wounded and possibly dying, Omel no longer bothered to hide his true feelings.

  “Even though generous offers were made to us in the past, you and I know that a king’s heart, a Pharaoh’s heart, can change.”

  “Get to your point, Omel.” The voice belonged to Fraya, a southern king and distant cousin of Semkah and Omel.

  “My point is this, brother. If you follow me as king, I will secure the deal we need. I can deliver Zerzura and Pharaoh’s army. I have a powerful ally who will lend his help whenever I ask for it. If we leave this in the hands of the girl, we deserve to die here. Swear your allegiance to me, and I will ride out immediately. We have no time to waste.”

  “Make you king? We are all kings. Your brother sent the sigil—he summoned us here. We would hear from him on this matter,” Fraya said, obviously unhappy with Omel’s proposal.

  “My brother is not well, King Fraya. In fact, he may not survive the loss of his arm. And even if he did, of what use is a one-armed king?”

  “And what will this cost us, Omel? Are you thinking to give away our mines? That is all we have left.”

  Another man asked, “Will we have to give our daughters and wives to the Egyptians? I heard they prefer boys to girls. Will they demand our sons?”

  Fraya calmed the crowd and asked Omel, “What promises will you make on our behalf?” It was clear that this man was not convinced.

  “Deal-making is the art of kings, is it not? What makes you think my niece will secure us a better deal than I? She has not gone to Thebes to climb palm trees or shoot an arrow, yet you sent her to represent you. I counseled against this, but nobody listened to me. Now is the time to do something before we are undone!”

  The kings sounded as if they were in agreement with Omel, and this was a dangerous thing. I chose that moment to reveal myself to the secret gathering.

  “Hafa-nu, kings of the Meshwesh.”

  “Hafa-nu,” they responded, surprised to see me.

  “What are you doing here, Orba? I did not summon you.”

  With a scowl I answered, “You do not summon me, Omel. Nor do you dismiss me. I am a free man, as are all these men.”

  “Well then, little man, what do you have to say to us? Or have you come to tell us that my brother is dead?”

  I was a small man, the smallest present, but I did not hunker down. Nor would I slink away merely because Omel pointed this out. I was no coward. I was no schemer like the man before me. />
  “Semkah is resting, and I expect him to make a full recovery. As I am sure you are happy to hear.”

  “My wife, who is a healer, says he will not survive. And even if he does, he will always have one arm. We have never had a one-armed king rule over us. My brother is a good man, but he cannot lead us like this.”

  “Indeed, we have never had a one-armed king. But then again, we still have a mekhma.”

  Omel snorted his disgust. “Nefret? She failed the trials, remember? Are you saying now that we should accept her when you yourself previously rejected her?”

  “Ah, but she did not fail the last trial—she was unable to complete it. Or have you forgotten that our enemy murdered the tribe at Biyat?” To that he said nothing and only glared at me with his kohl-lined eyes. I continued, “However, I was not referring to Nefret. Pah is the mekhma. And until we know what has happened to her, she is mekhma still. It is acceptable to the Council if her sister held her place until we determine what has happened to her, but even then these things will not be decided like this!”

  King Fraya rose to his feet and stood beside me. “I agree with Orba. If this is what the Council wants, then we will wait and see.”

  “The Council is only Orba and Samza. Are we to let these two men decide our fate?”

  “Again you are correct, King Omel. Thanks to the Kiffians, only Samza and I are left, but I have taken steps to correct that. We are seeking new Council members from the Meshwesh, fresh blood to take the place of those we lost. I look forward to speaking with any whom you recommend, for I feel it is important that we keep the Old Ways. All tribes must be represented in our Council. This is what Farrah would want.”

  “And what does the Council say about Nefret? What is our future, Orba? What do our gods and ancestors say? What have you seen?” Fraya prodded.

  The southern king eyed me hopefully. I felt the fate of our people resting on my skinny shoulders, as if Ma’at himself rode me, directing me. Here was a moment to instill hope—a rare moment given by the god. I could not miss this opportunity, yet I was not the kind of man who would lie to impress other men or to manipulate them to do my bidding. I had seen nothing yet, but a vision from many years ago sprang into my mind. As I recalled the details of the vision, I felt the warmth of the god’s unction brewing in the pit of my stomach. The words came forth like water from a new spring, slowly at first and then more furiously the deeper I dug into it.

  “A day of rejoicing approaches, brothers. A day like no other! We will walk the heights of Zerzura and see the sea again. The blue sea will lap our shores, and our children will rejoice that they live in a happy city. Oh yes, the sounds of children will echo in the streets! Our sons will grow strong and will wear our clothes, our colors. They will not wear the garments of Egypt, nor shall they be slaves to any man. Our daughters will marry our Meshwesh sons, and many nations will long to see their lovely faces. The bloodlines of our people will once again be sown with great seers and wise kings and leaders who will dispense justice and bring prosperity. In fact, the greatest king our people has ever known has yet to be born—but he will arrive and soon.” I could see the face of the young man, a familiar face but one I had not yet seen. “Which of you shall father such a great son? This I do not know, but I do know there is one alive who will.” Tears filled my eyes, and unexpected joy bubbled in my heart. I continued, “A mighty army approaches. But do not fear, Meshwesh, because your Deliverer has arrived. A girl with the power of Egypt in her hands! The falcon rises, and we ride upon its wings!”

  The men listened wide-eyed at my prophecy, then cheered and hugged one another. All except Omel, whose angry countenance told me he neither believed me nor supported me. He was my enemy, and he would not soon forget that I had defied him. In fact, I had ruined his plan. I did not linger. I left the kings and walked down the trail to explore the caves. More than ever I wanted to find a clear pool of water so that I could seek the future. I knew every word of what I said was true, but now the hunger to see more drove me deep into the cliffs and caves. Like a thirsty wild hare, I scampered through one cave and then another seeking water. I imagined that I could smell it, which seemed improbable; I had seen no clue that there was any to find. It would be pitch black soon, and I didn’t dare explore the caves in the darkness. These Egyptians liked their hiding places, even in death.

  I looked back down the valley to the camp. I was very high into the cliffs now and could see the fires burning below. The smell of cooking meat made my stomach growl, and I was tempted to turn back when I heard a sound.

  It was the sound of a woman singing. It was a pleasant and soothing sound. It came from above me, in a distant cave. I could see the faint light from a fire and was puzzled at the sight. As far as I knew no living person dwelt in Saqqara—this was the City of the Dead, at least if you were an Egyptian prince. I was no such thing. Still, the sound of a woman’s song intrigued me. Yes! I knew that verse!

  Clumsily and without thought I climbed up the narrow path and then scaled the cliff, desperately hanging on with my cut hands and worn sandals. At last I lay panting on the cave floor. The singing ceased, but I could still see the light. I forced myself to stand. “Who is there?” No one answered, but I heard the sound of laughter. Yes, a woman’s laugh. I nearly shouted when some small animal ran by my foot. Clutching my new necklace as if it were a talisman, I walked deeper into the cave until I saw her.

  It was Farrah.

  “My Orba. I was afraid you would not come.”

  “Farrah, what are you doing here? You are dead. I saw you with my own eyes. The Kiffians…” I fell to my knees and peered past the flames to see the woman I loved smiling back at me. Her hair was no longer white but brown again, just as it had been when we were young, when she let me touch it and kiss her. A desperate sob escaped my lips, and I said, “I am so happy to see you, even if you are only a dream.”

  “Tell me, Orba. Why have you come here to this lonely place? Ah…no need to explain. I see now. You want to see, don’t you?”

  “Yes. So much has happened, and I can’t explain it all. I must know how to lead our people. Won’t you help me, Farrah?”

  With a slight movement of her hand she tossed something into the fire and the flames changed to purple. She invited me to look, but as always I could see nothing. “You know I cannot read the fire. What else can I do?”

  “Go to the water then,” she said impatiently. Even in dreams I disappointed her. Suddenly Farrah and her fire disappeared.

  I gasped, nearly falling backward onto the stone floor. “Wait! Do not leave me, Farrah! I cannot do this by myself.”

  I sat in the silence of the dark cave, unsure what to do, when I heard a new sound: the sound of water. Using my hands to feel my way, I crawled deeper into the cave. My knee bounced on a sharp edge, and I winced in pain but kept crawling. A purplish light, like the one produced by Farrah’s herb fire, appeared in front of me and shone down onto a small fountain that splashed at the back of the cave. So thirsty was I that I drank from the fountain without thinking. When I had drunk my fill, I splashed my face and sat patiently, staring at the water.

  The water shone in the purple light, and in just a few seconds I could see images form before my eyes. As always seeing such things delighted and surprised me. I watched the face of Nefret appear; her red hair was gone, and in its place was a wig of dark braided hair. Upon her head was a crown—no, a double crown. Her lovely face vanished, and I saw another face: Omel’s wife, Astora. She stood under the moonlight, her body nude and painted with magic symbols. She whispered spells, and as she spoke creatures poured forth from her mouth. Black, writhing creatures that crawled through our camp and wrapped themselves around many different leaders. “What can this mean?” I asked Farrah as if she would answer me. She did not.

  Then I saw another scene. Farrah walked through our camp—this must have been around the day of the attack. She followed the child, the dead child, Nefret’s treasure. The two walked into P
ah’s tent, but in my vision I was not permitted to enter. I saw Yuni storm out with an angry look on his ugly face, then Pah emerged, her robes covered in blood, a bloody dagger in her hand. I gasped at the sight. On a surge of foul wind I was carried inside the tent just in time to see Mina enter and issue a silent scream.

  As Farrah took her last breaths I cried, “I am sorry, Farrah. We were wrong. It should have been Nefret. Now what do I do?”

  Farrah appeared to me, wearing the same bloody robes, her hair white again and streaked with blood. She raised her hand toward me and pointed. “Now you see… You have seen the future, the present and the past. Now you see, Orba hap Senu. You will see in fire and water. Be mindful of your gift. Take no life, or you shall lose it.”

  In a soft flicker she disappeared, taking with her the purple light. With her she took all warmth from the cave. I had seen troubling visions. I crawled out of the cave as quickly as I could. I had to share all this with Samza.

  We had a devious, evil enemy at work in our camp.

  And soon we would be without a mekhma.

  Chapter Three

  The Song of Queens—Ayn

  I knew what Omel was up to, and I stalked him nearly night and day. A man like him would never pass up the opportunity to sow discord. Until Nefret returned I would be her eyes and ears. I would not let her down in this. I watched covertly as Omel led his brother-kings out of our camp to the large rock circle to the north. So arrogant was he, so confident in his ability to coerce the other kings to partake in his rebellion, that he did not bother to hide his attempt at creating a coalition. I think he saw me once but paid me no mind. I had been labeled a liar. Who would listen to me now?

  Still, I dogged his every step and did my best to avoid a direct confrontation. To her credit, Astora was ever observant and glared at me whenever we met. She knew I hated Omel, but she would probably never dream why.