Water of Life into the hollow in the stele they’d carved for her.
He could wish this had been done in sunlight for his Irisi was a creature of light not darkness.
His light…
Irisi.
Grief burned. If he could have gone in her place…
He couldn’t, he was no priest, he had no magic. Nor as Egypt’s only surviving General could he leave his country and its people undefended any more than Irisi could have refused this.
Duty and honor wouldn’t allow it.
He laid a hand against the cold stone, listened as the hammers beat above him with a sound like a heartbeat, listened as they pounded the sealing stone into place with steady rhythmic blows. Sealing the stele with Irisi inside it. What was it like for her there, in the darkness filled with the Water of Life? It would be like drowning.
He willed her the strength and courage to endure. Like the rhythm of her heart, each blow of mallet on stone echoed from the distant walls, whispering back over the grassy hollow.
Above, through the narrow break in the cavern roof the stars glittered coldly.
Desperately Irisi’s lungs sought air, her body fought even as she clung desperately to trance, to the endless mental chanting of the words from the Book of Life, the secret book of the priesthood. She had to hold against her grief and fear, the close space that surrounded her.
What lay below, him and them, battered against her will.
Khai was still here, though, her beloved Khai and these others she loved. Kahotep, Djeserit, Awan, and all the priests and priestesses with whom she’d served over the years. Even poor foresworn Saini in the distant chamber below, seeking his redemption in this act as he watched the last faint light disappear as the doors shut on him, sealing him in among the Dark, among Them…
She could almost pity him, not knowing which of them suffered the worst fate.
Faintly through the stone she could hear the preternatural echo of the Horn as he blew endlessly, drawing air through his nose while he blew out through his mouth. That sound must not falter until the doors were shut and sealed. Forever. And he knew it.
Beyond, outward, there was all of Egypt, all of the world. Helpless before what lay within the chamber below.
They could not let what resided so restlessly within that chamber escape to lay waste over their beloved Egypt and all the world. She could not set what lay within that tomb on the peoples of this world, not with what they knew of them. Those below would devour it. They would turn the people of the Nile, the distant people from whom Irisi had come and those of all the lands where she’d served and fought as a mercenary, into chattel, something to feed upon…and their feeding…the torment of it…
Horror shook her.
If they were to be free, safe, then she must hold, even as her body bucked, fought for air…
And so she held. It seemed an eternity, yet it was only minutes.
She remembered…and clung to her memories, lost herself in them, held them against the fear and the pain, against the cold that seeped into her flesh. The cold and the darkness.
Alone in the dark she remembered the ones, the one, that she loved and would always love.
His hand upon the stone, Khai remembered his beloved Irisi with her swords flashing, her hair swirling around her as she did battle as she had that first day he’d seen her, and all the days thereafter. He smiled at the memory, despite his grief, his sorrow and pain. Priestess and warrior. So lovely, strong, so seemingly indomitable. It was her laughter though, that rang in his memory most. That beautiful hair, her glorious eyes…her laughter and her joy.
In grief and sorrow he touched the features carved into the stone of the stele, then laid his forehead against that graven forehead as he would have done with her in life.
His fingers traced the words engraved there, the chants for Coming Forth into the Day, for Going and Coming Out of the Realm of the Dead, and For Taking on
He could wish this had been done in sunlight for his Irisi was a creature of light not darkness.
His light…
Irisi.
Grief burned. If he could have gone in her place…
He couldn’t, he was no priest, he had no magic. Nor as Egypt’s only surviving General could he leave his country and its people undefended any more than Irisi could have refused this.
Duty and honor wouldn’t allow it.
He laid a hand against the cold stone, listened as the hammers beat above him with a sound like a heartbeat, listened as they pounded the sealing stone into place with steady rhythmic blows. Sealing the stele with Irisi inside it. What was it like for her there, in the darkness filled with the Water of Life? It would be like drowning.
He willed her the strength and courage to endure. Like the rhythm of her heart, each blow of mallet on stone echoed from the distant walls, whispering back over the grassy hollow.
Above, through the narrow break in the cavern roof the stars glittered coldly.
Desperately Irisi’s lungs sought air, her body fought even as she clung desperately to trance, to the endless mental chanting of the words from the Book of Life, the secret book of the priesthood. She had to hold against her grief and fear, the close space that surrounded her.
What lay below, him and them, battered against her will.
Khai was still here, though, her beloved Khai and these others she loved. Kahotep, Djeserit, Awan, and all the priests and priestesses with whom she’d served over the years. Even poor foresworn Saini in the distant chamber below, seeking his redemption in this act as he watched the last faint light disappear as the doors shut on him, sealing him in among the Dark, among Them…
She could almost pity him, not knowing which of them suffered the worst fate.
Faintly through the stone she could hear the preternatural echo of the Horn as he blew endlessly, drawing air through his nose while he blew out through his mouth. That sound must not falter until the doors were shut and sealed. Forever. And he knew it.
Beyond, outward, there was all of Egypt, all of the world. Helpless before what lay within the chamber below.
They could not let what resided so restlessly within that chamber escape to lay waste over their beloved Egypt and all the world. She could not set what lay within that tomb on the peoples of this world, not with what they knew of them. Those below would devour it. They would turn the people of the Nile, the distant people from whom Irisi had come and those of all the lands where she’d served and fought as a mercenary, into chattel, something to feed upon…and their feeding…the torment of it…
Horror shook her.
If they were to be free, safe, then she must hold, even as her body bucked, fought for air…
And so she held. It seemed an eternity, yet it was only minutes.
She remembered…and clung to her memories, lost herself in them, held them against the fear and the pain, against the cold that seeped into her flesh. The cold and the darkness.
Alone in the dark she remembered the ones, the one, that she loved and would always love.
His hand upon the stone, Khai remembered his beloved Irisi with her swords flashing, her hair swirling around her as she did battle as she had that first day he’d seen her, and all the days thereafter. He smiled at the memory, despite his grief, his sorrow and pain. Priestess and warrior. So lovely, strong, so seemingly indomitable. It was her laughter though, that rang in his memory most. That beautiful hair, her glorious eyes…her laughter and her joy.
In grief and sorrow he touched the features carved into the stone of the stele, then laid his forehead against that graven forehead as he would have done with her in life.
His fingers traced the words engraved there, the chants for Coming Forth into the Day, for Going and Coming Out of the Realm of the Dead, and For Taking on
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