Lynda Robinson: Slayer of Gods

At the same time Meren’s elbow jabbed into his gut. He wrenched around, gripped Nebra’s wrist, and twisted it as his captor thrust with the knife. Meren bashed Nebra’s hand against the side of the chariot. The cloak over the assassin’s arm fell, but the blow failed to jar the weapon loose. He kneed Meren in the stomach and lashed out with his foot. Meren took the blows and nearly lost his grip on the knife hand. Gasping for breath, he felt Nebra heave, and he was thrown off balance. He heard Zulaya’s voice, and knew he had no time left. Releasing Nebra suddenly, he braced with both arms and rammed the young man with both feet. As he did so vendors and customers alike ran from the combatants, stumbling and screaming. The green monkey screeched, jumped onto the chariot where Anath was trying to control the startled horses, and slapped at Khufu with its tiny hands.

Nebra hurtled backward from the chariot and hit Zulaya as he ran toward the fighters. The knife flew from the assassin’s hand at the impact and landed under the chariot. Before either man could recover, Meren jumped down and fished under the vehicle for the knife. With an economy of movement Nebra rolled off Zulaya and to his feet and drew a dagger, all in one motion. Nebra took but a heartbeat to draw back his arm, wearing an expression of casual mastery. All this he did in the time it took Meren to find the knife and Zulaya to get to his feet.

Meren saw Nebra’s movements as a blur. He was holding the assassin’s knife by the handle. Without thinking, in that state of supreme alertness that battle induced, he drew the knife back so that his forearm blocked his lower face and threw it with a slashing, diagonal movement. The blade impaled Nebra through the eye, and his hands came up to grip it before he tottered and fell. As he did, Zulaya leaped over his body and planted himself in front of Meren, knife in hand. He shook his head.

“I have been foolish, it seems.”

“Yes,” Anath said.

Meren looked over his shoulder to find her behind him, also armed with a blade. His gaze darted from one to the other as they drew their knives back, preparing for the kill. All at once there was a high-pitched squeal, a growling hiss, and the green monkey scampered across the empty space created by their fight with Khufu in pursuit. The creature glanced over its shoulder, saw Khufu gaining, and scrambled up Zulaya’s leg to perch on his shoulders.

Anath threw her knife as Khufu clawed his way up after the monkey. Meren dodged it, and the blade impaled Zulaya in the chest as he stood struggling with the cat and the monkey. Frightened by the blow, the animals sprang off Zulaya. Anath cried out and rushed to her father with Meren close behind. He grabbed her, but she twisted out of his grip and threw herself down beside the wounded man. Sobbing uncontrollably, Anath tried to staunch the blood that flowed from the wound around the knife.

Meren knelt on the other side of Zulaya, shoved Anath, and gripped the man’s face. “You’re dying. Tell me what you planned for my family, Zulaya. Don’t go to the underworld with more evil to weight down your ka.”

Zulaya gasped, panting, and his lips twisted into a grimace.

Meren gripped him hard. “Zulaya, tell me!”

Around them the sound of panic lessened when foot soldiers entered the market from several directions. Trumpets blared, but Meren paid no attention.

Anath thrust Meren aside and gathered Zulaya in her arms.

“Father, Father, I didn’t mean to-” she choked and sobbed again.

Zulaya’s color was fading rapidly, and his voice was weak. “No, my little jewel, of course you did not. No matter, no matter.”

“Do something!” Anath screamed at Meren.

“Tell him to reveal the traps he set for my children,” Meren ground out. “He’s dying. The only thing that should concern him is his soul.”

Zulaya’s eyes opened wide, and he turned his face to Meren and laughed. “The ever honorable Meren.” He wet his fingertips in his blood and touched Meren’s lips. Meren jerked away, but not in time to avoid the blood. Zulaya laughed weakly again, and his hand dropped.

“I can’t help it. For all your talent, riches, and beauty, the truth still escapes you. After all the blood,” he said, “you still don’t know who was behind it all.”

“Don’t try to avoid the judgment of the gods with your lies,” Meren said. He pulled Zulaya up by his robe so that their faces were close together. “Tell me how to save my children, or by all the gods of creation, I’ll pursue your soul to the depths of the underworld to see you suffer agonies beyond imagining.”

Zulaya smiled as blood appeared between his lips, and he held Meren’s gaze. “She betrayed us all when she reconciled with the priests of Amun. My doings were sanctioned by her evil.”

Meren’s shout filled the marketplace, but Zulaya paid him no heed. The wounded man’s gaze shifted to Anath, who held her breath as he gasped.

“My little jewel.”

“Damn you, Zulaya!”

Meren watched with horror as life faded from the merchant’s eyes. There was a rattling in his throat, and he died. Anath screamed and collapsed on her father’s body, wailing.

Meren found it hard to stand, but he did. Desperation crowded out the pain of scrapes and aching muscles. It banished the humiliation and pain of Anath’s betrayal. With an animal-like growl, he stooped and tore her from her father’s body.

“It seems I’m too late to save you as you saved me.”

Meren whirled around. Dragging Anath with him, he sank to the ground at the feet of the king. He hadn’t even noticed the royal soldiers busy putting the market in order or understood the significance of the trumpet call. Tutankhamun stood beside his new chariot with his royal bodyguard arrayed behind him.

“Rise, Meren. I was driving my new chariot past Golden House, and Lady Bener accosted me with the news that the Eyes of Babylon had betrayed my majesty.” Tutankhamun glared at Anath. “And you.”

“My daughter, majesty?”

“Indeed. She feared the woman had lured you away for an evil purpose and that Kysen might be too late to prevent it.” Tutankhamun walked over to look at Zulaya’s body. “But you didn’t need me at all.”

“I am grateful for thy care, majesty.”

“Who is this man?”

“He is called Zulaya, majesty, but once he was known as the Aten priest, Thanuro. It was he who committed the crime I was investigating for thy majesty, but there is an urgent matter I must resolve. I beg leave to question the Eyes of Babylon at once, Golden One, for Zulaya set traps for my children that were to spring if he was killed.”

“Him?” The king fixed Zulaya’s body with a stare so intense it should have burst into flames. “At last,” Tutankhamun breathed. Abruptly he turned to Meren without even glancing at Anath. “You may question her. I’ll send reinforcements to Golden House for Bener’s protection and send others to find Kysen. He went in search of you and by now he’s probably on your trail.”

Anath had stopped wailing. As the king spoke, she suddenly pulled the dagger from Zulaya’s chest.

Meren shouted, “Majesty!”

Tutankhamun was already moving. His foot lashed out, hit Anath’s arm, and knocked the knife free. She cried out in pain as Karoya leaped between the king and her and aimed his spear at her. The Nubian glanced at pharaoh, awaiting the order to kill.

“Give her to Meren,” the king said. “When he’s finished, my majesty would question the Eyes of Babylon before she dies.”

Meren dragged Anath to a deserted beer stall and shoved her against it. Her tears had yet to dry, but she faced him without flinching. Meren had no interest in her daring.

Holding himself in check, Meren spoke with barely leashed violence. “Even I can’t save you, but I may be able to persuade pharaoh to grant you a painless death. Help me protect my children, and I will intercede with him on your behalf.”