Monday, May 9, 2016

Free short story: Son of Egypt - Part 9

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Parts: 010203040506070809101112131415161718 - 19

Copyright © 2016 by Cyci Cade. All rights reserved.

My head throbs when I open my eyes, the dim light hurt them. I try to move; my arms and legs don´t respond to my command. My face is glued to his brawny and naked chest, I hear the thump-thump of his heart. His arms are around me, holding me firmly. Still commanding the movement of my eyes, I look around. I see a tomb with a dog on the top, many boxes, statues, and other things. We aren´t in that corridor anymore, I conclude. How did we arrive here if Anhuren was weak and I…Oh, my God! I fainted in the middle of the kiss. He´ll think that I´m a fool girl who never kissed before. Technically, I never kissed, but I wouldn´t faint during my first kiss like those damsels in the Middle Age, would I? How will I face him now?

Anhuren touches my face turning it to him. He looks concerned about me. “I´m sorry, Adele.”

Making an enormous effort, I lift my arm and cover his mouth with my fingers. I don´t want to hear his apologies, it´s too shameful.

He grasps my hand and kisses my palm. “How are you feeling?”

“I´ll survive.” I laugh, trying to sound funny and hide my embarrassment.

He gets up taking me with him. He supports my weight awhile. Little by little he releases me. “Can you walk?”

I nod.

“Good. My canopic jars are here, I can sense them.” He walks toward the artifacts.

Turning around slowly in order not to slump on the floor, I ask, “How did we arrive here?”

“I transported us.” He disappears in the middle of those old things.

I follow him. “How? A minute ago you were agonizing in my arms.”

I hear a noise, something breaks. A hear a scream, and a punch. It´s Anhuren´s voice. I dart toward him, my head spinning, my legs wobbling. On my way, I see broken jars on the floor and a slimy substance around them.

“Ugh!” I hope it isn´t Anhuren´s insides.

Anhuren´s insides.

“Anhuren!” I call and continue to move.

More things break. My mother won´t like it. She will not! I hear another scream. I move faster and faster until encountering two men holding Anhuren´s arms and another man opening his mouth in front of Anhuren as if the man is sucking something. Light comes from Anhuren while he writhes trying to release himself.

“Hey!” My voice calls their attention.

The man closes his mouth and turns to me, he´s scary. No matter how much I force my vision, I can´t see his face; it´s a dark, unshaped mass that moves according to his movements.

It is the opportunity Anhuren needs to swing to the sides and gets rid of the men. “Run, Adele!” he commands.

I don´t. I keep immobile watching him wobble to a box while the men pursue him. The other one analyzes me. I feel a cold that penetrates my body, my bones, as if sucking my soul and everything there´s inside me.

“Catch it, Adele!” Anhuren yells.

I see a jar flying toward me. I lift my arms to catch it. I step to the right, to the left, forward… my head cocked back.

“Don´t break it!” he warns.

My hands shake when I reach the jar. Is it resistant? I hope so. The jar slips from my hands and I pull it against my stomach, keeling on the floor to avoid the fall. I sigh.

“Adele!” Anhuren screams again and I see another jar moving toward me.

I throw my body back to grasp it before the jar crashes on the floor. I don´t have time to breathe because Anhuren shouts again.

“Run, Adele!”

This time, I do. I hold the two jars and run to the opposite side of the room—it´s large and has many places to hide. Two men pursue Anhuren, while the scary one waits a moment before coming after me.

Anhuren arises from the middle of many boxes carrying the other two jars. We run, or we´d have run if Anhuren wasn´t panting and slowing down his gait. He falls to his knees.

Not now! I look back; the men are approaching us. “Come on, Anhuren!” I crouch next to him and put the jars on the floor.

He pushes the bow and the quiver with the arrows into my hands. “I assume you know how to use it.”

I nod.

“Then, use it,” he commands.

“I can´t shoot a man!” I protest.

“They aren´t men,” he speaks through gritted teeth.

“They look like men to me.”

“Shoot!” he screams. “I don´t have more time.”

I do.

I get up, prepare an arrow and aim the scary man. He moves in an awkward way, as if floating in the air. I notice that his face isn´t the only thing I can´t see; his feet… there are no feet!

My hands shake but I don´t hesitate. I move forward and release the arrow. It encounters resistance but pass through the man. I keep moving forward to prevent the men from approaching Anhuren. He needs time to do whatever he intends to do.

I keep shooting while Anhuren starts to sing. Sing? For a fleeting instant, I look back. The four jars are open and around him; he is kneeled, his head cocked back, his palms up, and a bright light comes from the jars and moves toward his body.

Returning my attention to the men, I shoot another arrow, the last one. I consider throwing the bow against them because this is the only thing I have in my hands. I refuse this idea, my father gave me this bow; it´s too expensive.

Heat involves me and I sense a presence behind me. Light illuminates the place and the dark figures become smaller. Anhuren passes by me like a fireball. He stamps toward the men. They stop, lift their arms, and start to sing. Sing? Again?

Small things like bats come from the hands of the men, if I can name them men. Anhuren stops in front of me blocking my vision; light spreads around him and forms a shield. He is protecting me.

The dark creatures hit the shield and disappear as if they are incinerated instantaneously. The light becomes so intense, so bright that hurts my eyes. I feel energy, power, emanating from Anhuren´s body—the god of war.

I kneel and put my head between my arms. I have an awful sensation. I sense pain, not my pain, but the pain of thousands of souls agonizing, moaning, and suffering. It´s so strong that I close my eyes, press my palms on my ears to muffle the sound, and grit my teeth. I can´t say how long I stay in this position, until the moment gentle hands hold my arms and pull me to my feet.

“It´s finished, Adele.”