Morning came with recriminations and anger. The first to wake was Harsiese, and he leapt to his feet in a flash, rounding on Heshtat with a frown as deep as the Nikea.

  “Why did you not wake me?” he demanded.

  “I was not tired,” Heshtat replied calmly, looking out over the flooded plains from the entrance of the cave they had sheltered within.

  “Fool!” the Tomb Guard cursed. “We need you sharp, and now your reactions will be slow. I know awakening the Khet brings arrogance, but I did not expect it from you. Your body still needs sleep.”

  “I am aware, Harsiese. Peace,” Heshtat replied, raising a hand to reassure him. He was, quite frankly, surprised by the vehemence of the man’s reaction. He’d opted not to wake the others, instead spending the night enjoying the view and letting them all rest. They needed it.

  “And your words yesterday—were they lies, or are you just a hypocrite?”

  Heshtat frowned, momentarily confused. “What do you-—ah! No, my friend. Please, sit and listen.” He slapped the rock beside him, and only continued when Harsiese sat down, though the big man still eyed him warily. “It was not an act of self-sacrifice. I wear the Eye around my neck. I don’t understand the specifics, but I feel no need for sleep. Perhaps it is the connection to the Other that I have while wearing it? Or simply the power filling my soul with each moment. I am unsure, but either way, I suspect I do not need sleep in the way another would.”

  Harsiese squinted suspiciously at him, and Heshtat spread his arms to show his lack of fatigue. He felt light, well-rested despite his constant vigil. He didn’t even feel an ache from holding the same position for half the night. Whether Harsiese could see those details was in question, but the big man begrudgingly nodded.

  “Your burns are healing faster than expected.”

  “That could simply be my cultivation of Khet,” Heshtat countered.

  The Tomb Guard disagreed though. “No. I am familiar, do not forget. It is something else, unless your channel is focused on healing?”

  The sudden interest in the man’s eyes died as Heshtat shook his head. He understood why; a channel focused on healing, particularly when paired with an aspect like Khet, would be an interesting ability to witness.

  Heshtat had heard of spiritual healers, acolytes and above channelling Sakhmat’s blessing through either the aspect of Power—Sekhem—or the aspect of the Name—Ren—enabling them to work minor miracles on the bodies of their countrymen. Stories abounded of plagues being shrugged off, wounds closing in moments, even limbs being regrown in some cases.

  It was a double-edged sword though, because Sakhmat was not just a goddess of healing. She also encapsulated war in her domain, and it was impossible to know which side of her domain the channel would be influenced by. Spiritual healers were rare precisely because of the multi-faceted nature of the many gods of Amansi—one may spend their entire lives with the fervent wish to heal others, and upon awakening an aspect, find they possess only the ability to harm. Most decided to pursue more mundane methods of healing given that risk.

  “So, you are receiving further empowerment from the Eye even now?” the man asked in interest.

  Heshtat had no time to answer though, for their conversation had drawn others from their slumber. Not the priest—he still slept fitfully, in the grip of a spiritual malaise that kept him chained to unconsciousness—but Neferu was stirring, and Maatkare had already awakened.

  His brown locks bounced into view as the man pranced over, easing himself down to sit at the mouth of the cave with a little delicacy, no doubt due to his wounds, but he seemed irrepressible in spite of them.

  “Good morning, my friends!” he crowed, though he was considerate enough to keep his voice somewhat quiet. “Ah, but it is a delight to see you up and about.”

  Heshtat raised an eyebrow at the display and Maatkare grinned back at him.

  “Our continued survival has done my spirits a world of good, it is true.”

  “And here I was hoping for a few more days of peace,” Heshtat said dryly. Maatkare tried to smack him on the arm, but Heshtat was far faster and dodged with ease. He smiled wider as Maatkare overbalanced and nearly fell into Harsiese.

  “You two are like children,” the big man grunted. “Or cats.”

  “Speaking of,” Maatkare smoothly picked up. “Are you still a puny acolyte, or has Bestat offered further blessings?”

  Harsiese snorted, and Heshtat chuckled along with him at his irascible friend. “I am still a mere acolyte. Do not fear, I shall not leave you in the wake of my power so quickly.” Then he turned more serious. “But I am receiving a constant flow of power from the Other, filtered by the Eye rather than my own soul. It is empowering, no doubt about it, but I fear that is the least of its effects.”

  “Go on,” Maatkare said, as Neferu roused herself and joined them.

  “Ahhotep told me that the Eye leaks power, and it seems he was right. He also promised me he would help shield it from prying eyes…” Heshtat glanced at the priest’s frail, unmoving form. “But obviously, circumstances have changed. We are in danger.”

  “We’re always in danger,” Maatkare muttered.

  “Isn’t it great?” Neferu asked with a bright smile.

  “Hysterical woman.”

  “Old man.”

  “Alright, alright,” Heshtat interrupted. “Children, indeed.” He noticed Harsiese’s smug smile and gave him a nudge with his shoulder. “Not a word. As I was saying, the Eye is unprotected, its very presence a call to any power-hungry creature lurking nearby. We have a lot of ground to cover, and we must do so swiftly.”

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  “It sounds like you have a plan, my friend,” Maatkare said leadingly.

  “Indeed I do. We are not far from Men-nefer—perhaps a hundred miles downriver, by my best guess. I propose we cut into the Endless Dessert. A day or two of the blazing sands and then we reach the deep dunes, where we can shelter and travel in the canyons, protected from the scorching sun and wheeling predators.”

  “How will we navigate?” Harsiese asked, bringing up a very sensible point. The Endless Desert was named so for a reason; a dozen miles in and every direction began to appear identical. It was easy to lose oneself travelling in circles and never knowing it, such that Amansi had many folktales and myths of the Wandering Devils of the sands—men and women that had become trapped in the desert, their nature sapped away and replaced with nothing but an unquenchable thirst.

  Luckily, Heshtat had already given it due consideration in the night. “Neferu, am I right to recall you spent time as a guard attached to camel traders?”

  The woman beamed. “You are, in fact! I was so young back then. There was a man—Harsiese, you would have loved him—used to be a fisherman. He traded it all in for a chance to travel, and Heshtat when I tell you that he had the biggest brown eyes you have ever seen—”

  Heshtat held up a hand to forestall in the incoming gush of half-jumbled stories that Neferu would happily babble away with. “Please, let us not get distracted. You have experience navigating the sands, yes? The deep dunes, without landmarks to orient by? The journey will not be as simple as the way from Idib to Men-nefer.”

  “I do,” she confirmed. After a prompting gesture, she explained. “I’ll use the stars. We only need to travel due west for a couple of days before we reach the canyons. We take a bearing each morning and follow it through the day. That will, of course, mean ascending the lower dunes directly, rather than skirting around them, but we are all up to the task, yes?”

  Heshtat thought of the effort of dragging Ahhotep up and over the immense dunes on a badly made sled and grunted. Still, it could work. “We will need to watch for predators, but two or three days? It is a risk we shall have to bear.”

  “What about food? And water?” Maatkare asked. “We still have a few bladders, but the water here is far too contaminated with silt to be drinkable. I know we all have our cultivation to lean on, but even those with the advantages of Khet will need water for a journey like this.”

  “Not a problem!” Neferu declared with enthusiasm. “We shall find an oasis on the way.”

  Heshtat hesitated though. “Possible, but… What about after we reach the canyons? We shall not see the stars often, and water is sparse there. I know there are underground caverns where water flows beneath the sands out of sight, but they are not easy to find nor access…”

  “Trivialities,” Neferu brushed aside his fears.

  “Trivialities that could spell our death,” Harsiese emphasised. “There are many expeditions to the ancient sands that fail catastrophically, many of them more experienced and certainly better provisioned than ourselves. This is folly. Captain, I will go where you command, but this plan does not sound realistic.”

  Heshtat see-sawed at the edge of a decision, glancing to Maatkare for input. His friend gave a faint shake of the head.

  “What other options do we have?” Neferu countered. “We cannot follow the river—the danger of drawing within fifty miles of Khaemwaset’s seat of power is obvious. I do not know how far his senses spread, but I have no doubt that he will be combing the sands looking for the Eye. That he likely suspects it on the body of a corpse carried by the flood will only give us a few days head start.”

  Another good point made well. Heshtat considered, tapping his vest above his heart in time with the rhythmic pulse of power there from the Eye.

  “What if we travel through the Other?” Maatkare asked. “As we did in the temple?”

  “Too dangerous,” Heshtat countered. “The Eye already draws far too much attention our way in the Waking. I suspect the moment we step foot into the Other, we will be beset by spirits and demons from miles around. It is the only reason I have not attempted to awaken another aspect yet.”

  “But if we could?” Maatkare pressed. “I am more effective in the Other, given my awakening of the Sah, and Harsiese also cultivates the Spiritual Body. You are no slouch, and Neferu can fend for herself. We could make impressive time, and we’d need not worry for food or water while we travelled through the Dreamscape…”

  Heshtat couldn’t deny the argument—he had made a similar one to himself in the night, after all. But the reason he had disregarded it was still too pressing. He had seen what dangers lurked in the Other, from wraiths and djinn to native creatures and even the Desolate. Dune Walkers scoured the Otherworld, the bountiful essence and dreamlike logic of it creating dangerous weather events that could not be foreseen: tornadoes of spiralling flame that scorched the sands, cutting winds as sharp as any blade that sought out wandering spirits to rend, localised earthquakes that travelled in unknowable patterns, and even shifting terrain that moved about to confuse the unwary traveller. It was not a realm to travel lightly, especially over long distances.

  “Could we at least confirm that the Eye does pose the risk you suspect?” Maatkare asked. “It would cut our journey dramatically to traverse the Other, and we may even buy ourselves additional power during the expedition. It is too good an opportunity to not at least attempt.”

  “Very well,” Heshtat said. “But at least let us make ready, in case you are right. I will not have the power to cut us through the veil often, so best we not waste the opportunity.”

  “Yes, my friend! It would also behoove us to be ready to flee should your fears hold true.”

  “What a cheery thought,” Heshtat said with a sigh, ignoring Maatkare’s sardonic grin.

  It didn’t take them long to gather their gear and perform any morning ablutions. They had lost most of their gear in the flight from the island and the subsequent chaos of the flood. Still, by the time they had strapped on their remaining weapons and further scrubbed their clothes in whatever limited way they could manage, they at least looked a fraction more prepared for a dangerous journey. Not near enough, but better than before.

  Harsiese had lost his great battle axe and some of his armour, and his white shendyt was more of a dull brown now, but he still had a single greave and both vambraces, plus his golden cuirass. Heshtat and Maatkare had given him the two daggers they’d looted from the corpse of the sharp man that had tried to kill Heshtat back in the temple’s final chamber. Maatkare had no armour at all other than his belt, but one of his dented and battered tulwars was shoved through it, and that would be enough to shape his magic in the Other. Heshtat still had his khopesh, thank the gods, as he wasn’t sure how much more difficult slicing the veil would be without the magical artifact.

  Neferu had a single long dagger, though she’d lost her tools in the flood—something she had complained bitterly about once she had realised it that morning. She’d only settled down once Heshtat had promised her a new set upon their successful execution of the mission. She had tried to haggle for a greater set, but Heshtat had just told her to take it up with Queen Cleosiris, and that seemed to subdue her. Even Neferu, with her bountiful zest for life, seemed to consider arguing with the Arbiter of Idib too much of a thrill for her to seek.

  Heshtat took a steadying breath outside the cave and pulled forth his blade. It was a dull black in the morning light, shaded as they were by the rocky ridge behind them, and he admired the matt finish on the sharp edge. He visualised how it would cut, how the world itself would part at the seams for the empowered sword, and he drew deeply on the essence within his soul, pulling forth the power that welled within one of his nine aspects. Sekhem—the Power—flavoured with the blessing of Nemty, the ferryman of the gods. He Who Travels.

  Heshtat stepped forward and cast into being a portal to the Otherworld with a single smooth strike. A backwards glance showed his companions ready behind him; Harsiese, strong and silent, Maatkare, steady and eager, Neferu, bouncing and expectant. Ahhotep was still sleeping, lashed to the sled currently being hauled by Neferu—the others would need to be ready for the possible violence to follow.

  He turned back to the looming portal, a black void in the otherwise beautiful vista, and stepped forwards. They were taking a risk, of course they were, but what was one more danger to them?

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