Gods and Queens

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Give me your hand. We have little time."

Suspicion wormed its way through Re'hotpe's grief, causing him to frown. Wasn't he the same man who helped Abner get rid of him? "Leave me alone," Re'hotpe replied before turning back to his mother. She lay cold in his grip, arms lying limply at her sides and half her face marred with blood. He contemplated taking off his tunic and using it to wipe the blood off.

"Come on," the man said impatiently.

Re'hotpe wanted to scream at him to go away. When he turned to do him just that, he noticed the man was staring at his mother with an unreadable expression on his face. There was something about the stranger that felt...peculiar. He would have looked like a normal Israelite if not for the way his eyes appeared. They were sharp and possessed an odd type of glow he couldn't describe. Re'hotpe looked away, extremely confused as to the logic of the man's presence. How did he suddenly appear? And why wasn't the army of Egypt upon him by now? They rushed past, chariot upon chariot, none sparing them a glance.

"Why are you helping me? How did you get here so quickly and quietly?" he looked at the man cautiously. Nothing was threatening about his appearance, but Re'hotpe still felt shaken by his grief and the mystery that surrounded the stranger.

"I was told to help you." The man answered simply. He looked around, taking in the horses that sped by as he stroked his beard. "But as for how I got here...that would be nearly impossible to explain."

Re'hotpe did not like his reply. He shook his head. "Please, leave me alone whoever you are. It's impossible to escape. My father would find me. Look—" he shook his mother slightly "—he killed my mother!" He released a choked sob and clutched her garment, fighting hard not to weep again. What was this pain? Would it ever stop? It kept growing and consuming his heart over and over again.

"She's not dead."

Re'hotpe's eyes shot up, hope stubbornly surging forward at the man's words. He tried to fight it down, unwilling to add disappointment to his long list of torturous emotions. "W-what did you say?"

The man looked at his mother's face and then stared at him. His expression was open and sincere, and his strange eyes gleamed with confidence. "I said she is not dead, her body is in shock. Now give me your hand. I'm afraid, if we waste more time she'd be dead for sure."

Re'hotpe did not have to think twice. He didn't care if it was Apophis himself standing in front of him offering help; he was willing to take any chance to see his mother well again. He took hold of the bearded man's hand, tying his hope to the singular action.

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Rai was scared, extremely so. She was positive Menkhaf was out of his mind. From time to time he would glance at her and grin wickedly. He reminded her of a rabid dog, the kind that loved to growl and watch people with feral eyes. Since his threat, she had whispered feverish prayers, imploring all the gods she could recall to save her. But she was greeted with silence, not even a single pip from the deities. There was no sign, no reassurance that the gods would swoop in and save her. She was abandoned.

Where was Quatesh? He was there when she had to walk on the bed of burning coals, he had shielded her from the flames. She recalled he spoke to her frequently, his presence giving her soul a twisted kind of comfort. But now she felt naked, totally helpless to save herself if Menkhaf sees through his threat.

Please, Quatesh. Please, I beg you...save me. I don't want to die.

Rai tightened her hold on the chariot as nausea pulled at her innards, making her want to hurl the content of her stomach. She raised a shaky hand to her face, feeling the soft flawless skin beneath her fingers. She was too beautiful to be mauled. How she longed for a mirror, to look upon herself once more.