Amara held her eyes tightly closed. Aromas, not the
familiar ones of garlic and car exhausts filtered through her senses. Spices,
floral scents, all strange added tension and fear to her spirits. She touched
the surface beneath her. Hard but some kind of padding. The cloth covering her
body had a bit of a rough texture. And the sounds were odd.
She opened her eyes and held in a scream. Where was she
and who were these people staring at her? Dark hair with streaks of gray. One
had more gray than black. Skin tanned by the sun. Two wore some kind of kilt. A
woman had a band of cloth covering her breasts. A man sported a collar like
necklace. The older man wore a white robe that left his arms bare.
Was this a hallucination fostered by the spicy red liquid
the ole woman had asked her to drink? She grasped the thin covering and sorted
through her memories.
The phone call. The escape across city roofs. The
brownstone where she’d been offered an escape. The horoscope wheel had spun her
into darkness. Somehow she had landed here. Where was here?
She dared another look at the three. Nothing changed. Her
forehead wrinkled. She almost recognized their clothes and that necklace.
“Where am I? Who are you?” She hated the tremors in her
voice and the fear she felt positive showed.
The oldest of the three spoke. The garbled sounds had no
meaning. “I don’t understand.” Frustration gathered and accelerated her fear.
The urge to flee was strong.
The elderly man stared into her eyes can captured her
gaze. She couldn’t blink of turn her head. Warmth and friendliness washed her
fears away. He placed his hands on her head with his thumbs above her eyes.
“Who are you? Why am I here/” She needed answers. She
wanted to escape, to return to her known world.
If you accept, you
can never return.
An insidious wave of pain crept into her head. The bones
above her eyes ached. Would they shatter? She screamed. Her body convulsed. She
gasped for breath. The pain continued. Was this death? Had she failed before
she began?
Slowly the pain ebbed. Her eyes widened. The sounds the
others made were words she could understand.
The woman slid an arm beneath Amara’s shoulders and
shifted her into a sitting position. The cover slid. She grabbed the edge.
Naked. Her clothes were gone. Where? How?
“Drink this.” The woman held a cup to Amara’s mouth. “This
will refresh you.”
Amara smelled mint and cautiously tasted. She braced for
another displacement in time and place. When nothing happened she took a larger
drink. The warm liquid eased the dryness of her throat.
The elderly man stepped closer. “I am Siti, at present the
chief priest of Toth. Welcome to the Two Lands. You have been awaited and have
traveled far to reach us.”
Amara wondered if he knew the truth. “Where am I?”
“In the temple
of Toth on the east bank
of the great river not far from Tebes. You have been called to rescue he who
has been chosen to become Toth’s Priest. He will unite with Bast’s and Horu’s
Warrior to drive the remnants of the followers of the false god, Aken Re from
out land.”
She closed her eyes. Her head ached from the rocks of
information tumbling in her thoughts. Though a heated breeze bled, she felt
chilled. Was she capable of fulfilling their expectations? She knew nothing
about this Two Lands. She’d asked for a rescue from an intolerable situation.
There was no return to that time and place. Was this life any better than what
she’d left behind?
“I don’t understand what I can do.”
The elderly man patted her hand. “You will learn. Seshat
and Kamen will be your teachers.” He stepped back. “Kamen and I will await you
in the common room. Seshat will help you.”
The men left. Seshat Helped Amara sit on the edge of the
bed. For a moment she felt dizzy. The room shifted. She feared she would fall.
Finally she stood and wrapped the sheet around her body. She surveyed the small
room. Unlit torches were on the walls. The bed was elevated above the stone
floor. A pottery basin and pitcher stood on a small table. A backless stool
stood near shelves filled with piles of white cloth.
“Would you like to bathe?” Seshat asked.
“Yes.” Amara thought of a tub of steaming water, soap and
shampoo. She stepped to the floor. Her knees nearly buckled.
Seshat slipped an arm around Amara’s waist. “I’ll help you
walk. You slept for days.”
Amara’s unsteady gait gradually became even. She and her
companion walked down a hall where torches burned and lit the way. The bathing
room shocked her. No tub, just tables where attendants poured water over men
and women. Seshat showed Amara how to apply cleansing cream.
Amara lay on the table. An older woman mixed steaming
water with cool and poured a stream over Amara’s body and her hair.
After using a cloth to dry herself Amara gasped and held
the towel closer because of the men in the room. She averted her gaze and
listened to Seshat show her how to wrap the breast band, and done the
breechcloth and kilt. The older woman produced a comp and Amara combed her hair
and braided it in the single one word by the older woman. Amara sat on a stool
and laced the sandals with a strip protecting her skin. She fastened the
leather belt with a sheath and pouch around her waist.
They left the bathing room and walked to the common room
where the two men waited. Amara filled a plate with cheese, dates and melon.
She sat on one of the backless chairs and set the food on a small table.
While she and Seshat ate, the elderly man spoke. “Today
your training will begin. Kamen will hone your fighting skills and teach you
weapons.”
Amara straightened. “I have studied unarmed fighting for
years.” She thanked her father who had begun her training before her fourth
birthday. “Why should I learn to use weapons?”
“They may be needed,” Kamen said.
“I have fought against those with knives, clubs and …” She
found herself unable to say guns. “I have won those battles.”
The elderly priest clasped her hand. “Kamen will test you
and decide. Seshat will guide your development of the few powers she can teach.
The learning of the others will have to wait.”
What did he mean? “How long do I have before I must
perform this rescue?” She felt inadequate for she knew nothing about this land.
Once again the voices of the old women filled her thoughts.
“An ancient Egypt. Not the one of this world
but on a different continuum.
“There will be time for you to learn,” Siti said. “Come
with me. There is a place you must visit.”
He led her into the garden. Amara breathed in the mingled
scents of flowers. The mentors followed. When they reached a double line of
massive columns, the pair sat on a bench.
Amara gawked. The towering columns resembled trees, plants
and even flowers. They appeared to have risen from the ground as a single piece.
How had the seamless carvings been accomplished?
Siti beckoned. “Come.”
Amara pointed to the figures seated next to some of the
pillars. “Who are they?”
“Priests of Toth who spend hours copying the scrolls or
writing letters, contracts and proclamations for others. Many leave here to
serve in other temples or in towns and villages where they read and write for
people who don’t have the skills.”
A cream colored dog strolled toward them. Amara had never
seen such a graceful canine. The animal’s large eyes brimmed with intelligence.
The dog reached her side and sat. She touched the smooth and silky coat. “Who
are you?” she asked.
“Toth Ka, the avatar of the got,” the priest said.
With a flurry of wings a huge brown and gold hawk landed
beside the canine. A gray cat appeared. “What are they?”
Siti smiled. “The hawk Is Horu Ka and the cat Bast Ka.
They have come to welcome you and to bestow the blessings of the Three in you.”
A frown creased Amara’s forehead. Did he mean they were
sacred animals or something more? Confusion filled her thoughts. All in this
place was new and strange. Though the cat and the hawk were familiar, the dog
was new to her.
“What is the dog’s breed?” she asked.
“A saluki. His entire breed is honored by the priests of
Toth for they are ----- hounds. Toth Ka is more.”
Though curious, se didn’t ask what made this one special.
There was too much to learn and to understand.
The dog licked her fingers. The hawk took flight and
landed above a distant doorway. With feline grace the can moved toward the dark
space. The saluki walked at Amara’s side along the stone path.
Her companions vanished. Amara halted in the wide doorway.
Aromatic scents from lit torches revealed statues at the rear of the long
narrow room. Two men and a woman stood behind a long table. Their heads were
those of the animals Siti called avatars. She stepped closer and realized the
three were statues.
Siti touched the first man. “Toth, the lord of wisdom.” He
moved to the second. “Bast, bringer of mercy.” He reached the third. “Horu,
lord of justice.”
Amara wasn’t sure she understood. How could a god be part
human and part animal? She rubbed her arms to ward off a chill. Her world had
changed in more ways than she could imagine. Would she adapt or go mad>
She turned to the priest. Siti offered his hand. “You will
learn to accept what is new and strange.”
She sighed. “I pray you are right.”
“Come.” He led her to where Seshat and Kamen waited.
“What now?” she asked.
“Your training will begin with tests of what a priestess
or priest of Toth should know. You will have lessons in reading the scrolls and
in writing the language.” Siti turned to Seshat. “She is yours for the first
test.”
Seshat led her to the garden and a small pool of clear
water. White tiles lined the edges. There is the scrying pool though in need,
even a pot of water will do.”
Puzzlement caused Amara's brow to wrinkle. The scene
looked exactly like the photograph she’d seen. The saluki appeared at the edge
of the pool.
Seshat knelt and motioned for Amara to join her. “Clear
your thoughts and watch the surface. I will show you the face of the one you
will rescue.” She blew across the water causing the surface to ripple.
A face formed. The young man appeared to be her age. His
dark hair was pilled back and perhaps braided. His skin was tanned by the sun.
His eyes were brown and warm. He was handsome and appealing.
“His name is Namose,” Siti said.
Without warning another face appeared. Amara’s hand
covered her mouth. The man’s sallow skin and his lean face projected cruelty.
His obsidian eyes held anger and evil. Amara gasped. She would never forget
that face.
“Who?” She barely forced the word from her lips.
“A priest of Aken Re, a god alien to this land. He is the
one who took Namose.”
Amara memorized the face with a nose reminiscent of a
vulture’s beak. She looked up. When her gaze returned to the pool, the image
was gone.
My Places
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