XV. No Succor Here
Through the smallest cracks in the great stone blocks they came, like slivers of the night. The arid sands spat them out to swarm into Gomorrah, startling the cats hunting in the granary and setting every dog in the city to frantic yelping. They didn't stay long in the city proper, instead converging on the palace itself. Afterwards, no one could have said how many there were, not even the sorceress herself.
"Where are you going?" the king repeated, advancing on Cassandra before she had taken even a step away. Only her long experience as Memnon's captive kept her from breaking down, giving in. She drew her dignity about her like a cold cloak, as she had done every day in Memnon's service. How ironic, she thought, that I should be grateful to Memnon for helping me flee Mathayus. And how horrible.
"You're not yourself," Cassandra said. "And I can no longer live like a slave." Something smooth and cool slipped across her feet, and a wash of gratitude flooded her. Her call had been answered. The uraeus flared up between Cassandra and the king; fangs flashed through the darkness with an angry hiss.
Mathayus stopped, eyes shadowed. "I know your tricks, Cassandra. I've seen this one before." Then his hands fisted, and he spat at the cobra. It flinched away. With a smile that made Cassandra shiver, he sidled around the serpent. But another sprang up in his path, and another. The sorceress risked a glance at her feet and almost cried out.
They were everywhere.
Cassandra jerked back, shuddering with the knowledge that she would inevitably step on one of the serpents. But she didn't look away from the king; she couldn't let herself stop and see what she'd done. I didn't know this would happen, her mind screamed as more and more of the cobras surged up around Mathayus. Don't hurt him, oh please, don't hurt him.
Despite the darkness, Cassandra could still see the king's desperation as she edged away toward the door. "Cassandra! Don't leave me!"
She half hoped that one of the serpents would strike her, would take away this dreadful world and replace it with a long, dark sleep. But every step fell somehow on bare floor, and she had no choice but to abandon her king.
Out the bedchamber door, into the torch-lit hallway, and still the cobras rippled over the floor. The acrid tang of musk and scales made her cough. Cassandra fled through the winding corridors, passing fallen guards who hadn't the wit to stay still when the things surrounded them. Is anyone in this whole cursed place still alive?
* * *
She didn't know how long she'd lain insensate. For a while, she didn't even know who she was. Fire, she remembered. And darkness after a long journey. Was she dead, then? She pushed herself up to hands and knees with a whimper for the pain, and opened her eyes. Slowly her vision adjusted to the darkness.
Not dead--not unless there was death in the afterlife, as well.
"Nephthys."
She looked around, casting anxiously about for whomever had spoken, but saw nothing, save for the bodies, burnt and arrow-marked, lying among the shreds of cindered tents.
"Leave. You must be gone by morning."
Nephthys whimpered again and pressed her hands to her head. Stop it, she wailed to the voice in her mind. But it would not be silent.
"You'll find no succor here. Mathayus has turned against you."
Mathayus, she thought. The bastard who killed us. Who murdered my king. A sob tore at her throat, and hot tears touched her cheeks like molten metal.
"If you stay, you'll all be killed."
Nephthys' grief turned into a harsh, tearing laugh. "Too late, sorceress. We're all dead anyway." She got to her feet shakily and began to stumble away. If Mathayus' soldiers had been too lazy to make sure the enemy were all dead, she thought grimly, why should she stay around to let them rectify their mistake?
"Where is my king, sorceress? Where is my sister's husband?"
She had to find her sister. Somewhere in this whole, blighted Black Land, Isis would be searching, all unknowing, for a dead man.
* * *
"Hsst! Sorceress!"
Cassandra halted, looking frantically all around for the voice. Then she looked up and gasped.
Arpid clung like a spider to the ceiling, hands and feet braced against the walls. "Could I maybe have a little help here?"
"Of... of course." The hissing, writhing mass of serpents thinned away, leaving a patch of bare floor that Arpid tumbled onto.
"That's some nice trick," he said with a queasy grin as he followed Cassandra down the hall toward the palace gates. "I didn't know you could do that, with all those cobras, you know."
"Neither did I," she whispered.
Finally, they were outside, away into the city, and Cassandra hugged herself as they ran. She cast her mind back to the palace for a moment--
"Is he still alive?" Arpid asked.
The sorceress nodded in relief, and they came to the city gates.
"Stop right there, sorceress," one of the guards warned. "You're not to leave the city again, king's orders."
Something cold flickered between Cassandra's shoulders, testing her, questioning her. "Arpid." The thief cocked his head at her. "Stay very still. There's no ceiling here for you to cling to."
"Oh, great Set," Arpid muttered, but Cassandra could see that he would obey her.
It started with a low rustling, like wind over a distant field. Both guards' hands flew to their weapons, their faces showing a growing uneasiness as the susurration neared. Arpid glanced uneasily at his feet, then at the sorceress. "Can we leave yet?" he hissed.
Cassandra felt sweat beading on her face. Closing her eyes, she clenched her hands into fists. "They're under the sand," she murmured. "I don't know if I can..."
Her eyes snapped open. "Run!"