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Karim

He kept watch while the princess slept.

They’d reached a shallow valley at dusk and decided it was a good place to stop for the night. The rocky walls on either side shielded them from the river, so that anyone passing wouldn’t see the fire. They’d eaten a meager meal, and he offered to stay awake for the first half of the night so she could rest. The princess had agreed without complaint, bedding down on the sandy ground and falling asleep, curled like a cat into the blanket he’d purchased back at the Thonis market. For a girl who’d probably only slept on a plush bed, she didn’t seem to mind rough living.

Behkai dozed next to her, his great black head resting on her legs. It was as if the dog knew their time together was limited, so he was soaking up as much of Sitamun’s presence as he could.

Karim poked the small campfire they’d built from his supply of dung cakes until the embers flared.

Come tomorrow, I’ll be on my own again , he thought. He couldn’t blame the princess for wanting to part ways. He’d helped her escape Thonis, but he was still a stranger to her. He’d surprised himself with how much he’d wanted her to join him on his journey to Perset. Maybe he’d been alone too long and was merely desperate for a companion who wouldn’t lick his face.

Although if Sitamun did such a thing, he probably wouldn’t complain.

A darkling beetle crawled onto Sitamun’s shoulder and Karim reached over to brush it away. She twitched and snorted softly but did not wake. Leaning over, he pulled the edge of the blanket closer around her and tucked it under her chin, making sure not to dislodge the yellow chrysanthemum from her hair as he did.

He hadn’t intended to be so candid when they’d stopped by the canal. After all, they just met, and she was Khetaran—one of the most powerful women in the land. Like the pharaoh himself, royals like Princess Sitamun represented everything he hated about the river kingdom.

And yet, he’d been drawn to her. It was as if the same invisible rope that pulled him toward buried treasure pulled him to Sitamun. It was why he’d opened up to her. Why he’d pulled out the map to study, knowing she’d notice, knowing she’d want to see it for herself.

Sitamun was headstrong and imperious—but she was also witty and intelligent. Whatever her life might have been like in the palace, she still had the ability to appreciate the simpler things. A hot meal. Wildflowers. And it must have taken no small amount of courage to leave the palace behind and set out on her own with nothing but a waterskin and a dagger to her name.

She’d been awfully candid with him too. They had both made mistakes that led to the deaths of innocent people. And they were both searching for a way to make it right. Karim had thought that maybe they were supposed to conduct that search together, but perhaps that was wishful thinking. His path led to Perset, and hers to Bubas and beyond. Perhaps the oracle only intended for them to meet and give each other aid—as he had done with Raetawy and Nefermaat—before parting ways once more.

He sighed, annoyed that in the end, he wasn’t all that different from the dog. He liked the princess, and selfishly, he didn’t want her to go.

“Well,” he murmured to Behkai, giving him a gentle pat on the rump. “At least I’ll still have you, boy.”

Behkai opened his eyes, then sat up with a start. At first, Karim thought that his touch had startled the dog out of sleep, but Behkai saw Karim sitting beside him and still didn’t relax. His eyes were fixed on the ridge above them, ears perked, body rigid.

“What is it?” Karim squinted at the ridge but saw only darkness. “What do you see?”

A growl bubbled up from deep in Behkai’s throat. Karim held his breath, listening over the crackling fire.

There was nothing.

Karim closed his eyes, shutting out every sense except sound.

Still, nothing.

And then—

A soft rustle. The shifting of rough fabric. Feet moving through sand.

Moving quickly, Karim kicked sand over the fire until there was nothing left but embers. Shushing Behkai, he crouched over Sita, shaking her gently by the shoulders.

She woke with a violent snort and blinked up at him, bleary-eyed.

“Is it my turn already?”

Karim put a finger to his lips. He pointed to the top of the ridge and then tilted his head toward a shallow cave dug out of the wall of the valley. He hoped his message was clear. Keep quiet and go hide.

Sitamun understood. With a frightened look, she rose from her makeshift bed and slipped into the cave.

Karim rubbed the black dog’s sleek neck and bent to whisper in his ear. “You too, boy. Keep her safe, hey?”

The dog hesitated, seemingly unwilling to leave his master’s side—but Karim gave him a pat and a nudge, and Behkai followed Sitamun, disappearing into the shadows.

Karim turned back to the ridge, wondering what could be coming their way. Surely the crown prince’s men wouldn’t be searching at this time of night—but he supposed it was possible. Maybe they were travelers or tribesmen like him, looking for a place to make camp for the night. His hand went to the dagger in his belt.

Karim watched and waited. The valley was cloaked in a darker shadow than the desert above it. Perhaps the traveler would pass by without even noticing him.

The shuffling footsteps drew closer.

A prickle of dread crept up Karim’s spine. Instinct warned him there was something wrong with the sound. It was too quiet. Such a strenuous march through the desert would cause anyone to breathe heavily, to falter, to struggle.

But there was no breath, no faltering. There were only the footsteps, as steady as a heartbeat and as persistent as a curse.

No , Karim thought as the possibility arose in his mind. It can’t be.

The crown of a head appeared over the ridge. It was hairless and glowed white in the moonlight.

Karim stood transfixed as the figure revealed itself, little by little, one step at a time.

The flashing eyes.

The tattered wrappings.

The places where bone showed through sinew.

Then, like the return of a nightmare, the jagged hole where a broken tree had dealt what should have been a fatal blow.

Karim’s entire body began to tremble as he willed the apparition to vanish or reduce itself to a figment of his weary mind. But it remained.

It’s alive , he thought, his terror rising.

Setnakht is alive.

Behkai barked once—a high, frightened cry—and Karim’s glanced toward the cave, afraid that Sitamun and the dog might emerge. They didn’t. But when he turned back and looked up at the ridge, Setnakht was gone.

His brow furrowed. Had he imagined the whole thing? Was it some kind of illusion?

He heard another footstep, and his gaze dropped to find the monster just ahead, down in the valley with him and still advancing.

Karim gasped and stumbled back, nearly tripping over the smoking ruin of their campfire. How had the creature moved so quickly, so silently? He had touched it back on the riverbank, so he knew it had weight and form, so how could it move like smoke on the wind?

“Don’t come any closer,” he said, pointlessly.

Setnakht didn’t respond. The monster took another step toward him. And another.

It was near enough now that Karim could see the holes in its time-stained skin. The lips had worn away to nothing, leaving behind a permanent snarl of brown gums and teeth. It reached a hand toward Karim, some fingers still covered in paper-thin flesh, others only bone. The movement caused some of its desiccated skin to crack and flake away.

Every instinct told Karim to run. If he stayed, he and Sitamun would end up like Djet and Pasenhor. And did he really want to empower the creature further by returning the scarab amulet that was his heart?

If I do that, or if I keep running, who else will die? he thought. I started this the day I opened that tomb. Maybe I need to listen to my own advice. Maybe I need to stop running away from things, and start running toward them.

Setnakht was nearly upon him. Its pace neither increased nor slackened. It moved toward him like it had all the time in the world.

Gritting his teeth, Karim went to pull his dagger from its sheath but reconsidered. No, his blade was useless. Even being impaled on a tree hadn’t stopped the creature. He needed something else. Something that would destroy Setnakht for good.

Karim’s eyes dropped to the smoking coals. A few of them were still aglow. He’d burned the creature before. This time, he needed to be sure to finish the job.

He wrapped a bit of his robe around one hand and waited until Setnakht’s bony fingers were close enough to touch. The monster’s body crackled softly as it moved, its scent a mixture of salt and wine, dust and myrrh.

Then, in a flash, Karim dropped down, scooped up a handful of red-hot embers from the fire, and shot forward, thrusting them deep into the creature’s chest.

The response was immediate.

Setnakht howled, the ear-shattering screech ricocheting off the walls of the valley. Its mouth opened wide, so wide that Karim thought the thin strands of sinew holding its jaw to its skull might snap. It recoiled violently, trying to wrench itself away, but Karim grabbed its shoulder and held on tight.

“You want me?” he grunted, “Here I am, sen. Here I am!”

In seconds the embers burned straight through his robe and set his skin aflame. The pain was searing, but Karim held on. The embers flared as they met the dry wrappings and resin covering the creature’s body, and within seconds, bright flames had bloomed and spread along the tatters, turning them black.

Setnakht was ablaze.

Unable to stand the pain any longer, Karim let go of the embers and tried to pull away. But the creature grabbed him by the shoulder, mirroring him. Karim cried out as the flames licked him too. Smoke filled his lungs, and he began to cough, his eyes streaming. Everything was heat and fear and pain, with he and the monster holding one another in a macabre version of a lover’s embrace.

Karim battered his burned hands against the creature, but it only made the flames spread. They consumed the sleeve of his robe, searching for the flesh beneath. As the fire reached the skin of his arm, the pain was a thousand hissing snakes, a thousand bee stings—sharp and hot and biting. Karim bit back a scream, not wanting to inhale more smoke.

He couldn’t breathe. Darkness began to creep in from the edges of his eyes.

He thought about the oracle.

Maybe this is how my story is supposed to end , he thought.

As he began to lose consciousness, a sense of peace washed over him. At least he’d finished what he’d started, and the curse would be broken.

He spared a thought for his mother, his brother, his sisters, and wished he’d been able to do better by them.

Then again, they probably already thought he was dead, so he wouldn’t be missed.

Over Setnakht’s shoulder, behind the flames, Karim swore he saw Djet watching them in the moonlight. He looked just as Karim had remembered him, bright-eyed and round-cheeked, his smile undimmed by so much tragedy.

I’m so sorry for what happened , Karim told the specter of his friend. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. But at least it’s over now. At least it’s done.

Suddenly Karim felt the creature’s hand press against his chest, as if Setnakht were trying to feel his heartbeat. But then, the bony fingers began to dig in.

Karim recoiled, but couldn’t escape. What was it doing? Couldn’t the monster just die? It must know the end is coming, and it was furiously trying to tear Karim apart before it burned to ash.

Except why was it smiling?

The monster’s half-rotted mouth twisted into a skeletal grin as it pushed its fingers deeper into Karim’s chest.

Karim had expected fury, hatred, despair—but all he saw on the creature’s face was triumph.

It didn’t make sense. Unless—

The truth hit Karim like a lightning bolt.

The blood he’d spilled on Setnakht’s coffin.

The words in the letter: Isn’t it just what he deserves? To travel all the way West, only to be turned away at the moment of judgment? To have his miserable ka wander the earth for eternity?

Heartless in life, heartless in death.

The prayer on the map : He shall not travel West, for his work is unfinished.

It was Karim’s blood that woke the creature, connecting them, but blood hadn’t been enough to bring him back. Not completely.

Setnakht needed more. Not the amulet, but something else.

Through the flesh of an acolyte, he will live again.

Sitamun hadn’t been certain of her translation. He was now. The word wasn’t flesh or blood.

Karim finally screamed as the monster’s fingers pierced his chest.

It was heart.

The creature ripped away skin, then muscle and rib. Blood poured from Karim’s wound and sizzled in the flames, but the creature did not stop.

Karim screamed and screamed, consumed by agony. There was no fire, no moon, no ground beneath him. There was only pain.

Dimly, he was aware of Behkai charging out of the cave to attack the creature. He lunged and snarled like a demon, but Setnakht reached down and laid his hand on the dog’s face. Karim heard Behkai yelp.

Then he was silent.

Stupid dog , Karim thought, tears streaming down his face.

Deep inside him, he felt Setnakht’s fingers close like a trap. With each harsh breath, blood spilled from Karim’s chest and mouth. He was choking on it, gurgling, no longer able to scream.

Had the fire stopped burning?

Karim’s head lolled back, his eyes wide open. His despair was as black and vast as the night sky. He could have stopped this. If he had thrown himself into the river or slit his own throat, the creature wouldn’t have been able to achieve its goal. But instead, he’d given it exactly what it wanted.

If Karim had never found that tomb, the creature never would have woken—all Setnakht’s true acolytes were long dead. If Karim hadn’t shed blood onto the coffin, the ritual never would have begun. And if Karim had killed himself, the monster would never have been able to harvest his beating heart.

All the small streams, the strong current, they had been carrying Karim toward this moment. Except the destination wasn’t what he’d expected at all. He’d expected to die a hero.

Instead he was the sacrificial lamb, slaughtered in the name of a god he didn’t believe in. He’d been wrong. Nothing was finished. The oracle’s prophecy had only just begun.

Images flashed through his mind as his heartbeat slowed.

Behkai sleeping on his lap on the skiff.

Sitamun bending to smell flowers along the path.

Djet smiling at him as they stood by a valley, far away. I’m coming with you!

I’m sorry , he thought. I’m sorry, I’m so—

There was a sickening lurch, and Setnakht wrenched his heart from his chest.

***

Karim didn’t see what happened next.

He didn’t see the creature press the dripping, glistening heart into the ruin of its own chest. Didn’t see the reddish glow that erupted from the creature’s body, surrounding it, knitting together bones and ligaments and skin and infusing it with the blush of life.

Soon the wounds and burns and missing pieces were filled in, patched up, made new. Loose threads of sinew wove back into place as if guided by an unseen hand.

Karim felt nothing when Setnakht dropped his body to the ground and stood, not a flesh-and-blood man, but much closer to one than he’d been before. He couldn’t hear the ancient king’s voice when he finally spoke, with a throat made whole and a tongue that had been stilled for a thousand years.

Perhaps that was for the best.

To hear such a sound, a sound not unlike the eerie vibrations of the wind over the desert hills, was to hear doom itself.

“You made a poor acolyte,” Setnakht said, gazing down at Karim’s wide, unseeing eyes. “But your heart is strong.” He looked up at the stars, seeming to take note of their position in the sky. “It has been many years, but it is never too late to start again.”

The last embers died as Setnakht left the valley. In his wake, the desert was silent except for the distant sound of a woman weeping.