Trial of Anubis

١٤: CARN

      "Do you regret it?" Hatem tightened the quiver around his back.

      Hermopolis wasn't far behind them, the wails and cries carried across the night on the wind. Carn trudged through the sand towards the bank, slightly perplexed.

      "Regret what?" he chuckled lightly.

       Hatem's lips turned down. He shared a look with Hotep, his fellow brother rubbed his shoulder in silence. Carn scowled between them; he couldn't understand what the deal was. Taking Hermopolis by force exemplified the strength of the Sons of Horus, the Children wouldn't have given him information if he remained a passivist.

      "The woman," Hatem murmured softly. "Will her death bring Nekheny any extra praise?"

      "I wouldn't have gotten what I wanted any other way, she's expendable," Horwedja's rage bubbled inside of him.

      "Respect is the Head Son's currency. If it isn't reciprocated, then you will be usurped ―"

      Hatem was thrown back by a pulse of cold air. He landed head-first into the Nile, barely causing a ripple.

      "You are not Head Son, Hatem of Swennett. A co-regent should learn to hold their tongue, Horwedja should've taught you better than that," Hoi outstretched his hand towards the Nile where Hatem writhed beneath the water's surface. "Why was that woman so special?"

      He was able to resurface for a moment to answer, "She was no threat, there―"

      Hatem was forced under again over and over. The Son's fight for breath became animalistic as he clawed at the makeshift air barrier.

      Hotep ran towards the bank, dropping his spear in favour of reaching out to Hatem, "Stop it, you'll drown him!"

      "I have never seen a weaker Son of Horus than you," Hoi grinned in delight as the bubbles of air became infrequent.

      Hatem seemed to break the barrier holding him and he rose with a gasp. His black hair plastered his face but his Wadjet burnt bright with rage. He pulled his bow down his arm and shot an arrow at Hoi. The Head Priest anticipated this and removed a scroll from the folds of his robe. He threw it at the trajectory of the arrow, and it was absorbed in the parchment.

      Hatem angrily slapped the water, "I am Nekheny's marksman. Remember where you stand, Hoi. You were chosen to be Head Priest out of pity. The Sons don't respect you, they will always favour me."

      Hotep defused the conflict by standing between the men, outstretching his arms as a physical barrier, "I believe we have a place to be, yes? We can't risk the Sons of Anubis scattering."

      Carn didn't realise how tired he was until they scroll-hopped to Luxor. He didn't want to alert the Sons of Anubis to his presence, so they sheltered by the Great Sphinx Bar. Carn befriended the owner a few years ago and worked petty shifts as a bar tender before he realised that his persuasion could get him places. He twirled the spare set of keys around his finger and jerked his chin for the Sons to enter.

      He went behind the bar, shaped like a sun barque, and ran his hand across the cedar. He couldn't stop thinking about the consequence waiting for him across the city. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and traced the edges of the photographs.

      "Are you going to kill her too?" Hatem sat on one of the tables, twirling a gold arrow between his fingers.

      Hoi had taken one of the lounges on the far side of the club and had fallen asleep. Hotep leaned against the side of it with his eyes closed, either asleep or in deep meditation. Unlike them, Hatem seemed wide awake―perhaps his brush with death ignited a second wind in him.