“Of course, Osahar.”
Dr. Dagher headed over a dune and quickly disappeared. As Amon shouldered my bag and wrapped his arm around my waist to guide me away, I had the sneaking suspicion this would not end well.
I had noticed that my bag was awfully close to Dr. Dagher when we were sitting by the fire and I wondered now if he’d gone through it. I considered how far we’d have to go before Amon could whisk us away by sandstorm, if he even had enough energy to whisk us away at all.
I was lost in questions that I knew I’d have to wait to ask, so I mentally cataloged them, hoping I wouldn’t forget anything important. We said our goodbyes, and had begun making our way down the path toward the tourist booths when Dr. Hassan asked his own question, one that caused us to freeze in our tracks.
“How many days has it been since you have risen, Great One?”
Alarmed and frightened murmurs ran through the crowd after King Heru finished his speech. There were shouts that the three princes must be saved, while others raised their voices to say that the sons must be sacrificed. One of the queens sitting on a nearby throne screamed and fell to her knees. The other two clung to her, their sobs spreading to people in the crowd.
The people strained forward against the line of soldiers. Waving their arms, they yelled to be heard over the din, but the three kings heard none of it. Full of sorrow, they stared at their wives and then turned to their sons, who were quietly conferring.
As one, the three young men approached the dais where their fathers stood. Heru’s son addressed the crowd in a loud voice, “We three agree to be sacrificed to protect our homeland. With the blessing of our fathers, we will do what the formidable god Seth asks.” The people responded with stunned silence for only a few seconds before once again filling the air with questions, cries of protest, and tears.
Heru spoke, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I do not ask this of you. Indeed, I would rather die a thousand deaths than live through the death of one I love as much as you. No.” Heru turned to the crowd. “I ask you, my people, is it your will that we submit to these demands? Shall we allow the god Seth to strip us of our future?”
Though there were a few frightened people who advocated sacrifice, it was obvious that the majority wanted to save the princes, however steep the cost.
Heru addressed the crowd. “The people have spoken.” His wife approached, and he gripped her hand, brushing her tears away while insisting, “We will find another way.”
As the queens made their way toward their sons and the families began to confer, the priest Runihura stepped from the curtain’s shadows and chanted in a low, menacing voice. Emerging from the curtain behind him was an impressive gathering of priests. Their eyes were black and they moved as one, heads turned toward Runihura. In their hands they clutched wicked daggers, which they raised as they advanced on the royal families.
Women in the crowd screamed as Runihura waved his hands slowly, conjuring a cloud of black smoke around him. His countenance darkened, and angry clouds formed in the brilliant blue sky, covering the sun.
“Fools!” Runihura bellowed with the sound of a thousand drums, leaving a frightening thrum in every heart. Lightning bolts struck the ground near him, and another face obscured the priest’s features. “My wrath will be poured out upon you! I offered you a chance to pay homage, but you have turned against me. Be it known that I will take the lives of your young men. You will suffer for the insult you have paid me!”