Born of the Gods

Chapter Sixteen- Temple of Anubis

After my father disappeared we were left with confusion, excitement, but most of all weariness. Confusion about our new "goal," excitement about what it might lead to, but otherwise we were just plain tired. We all, unsurprisingly, agreed to go back to sleep.

"I was hoping you might do that," spoke the voice of my father once I'd finally drifted to sleep.

"Fall asleep?" I asked in my dream.

"Yes, now I can talk to you. Alone," my father spoke seriously, "There are somethings you will need to know before you start this journey." He waited for me to respond.

"Well..?" I asked.

He sighed, "Sarin do not take traveling to these places so lightly. It made me a little nervous to see how willingly you would go to the Temple of Anubis. It is not just his temple, Sarin. It is also his tomb. Well, obviously not a place of burial for him, but for his followers. They won't just let you walk in and take whatever you want. They will react and they will be hostile."

"So we fight some half dead people, so what? It can't be too hard to kill zombies," I told him.

He stared at me. "Sarin, what makes you assume all of his followers will be human?" he asked exasperatedly.

I thought a moment. I'd never considered anything other than people would worship gods. What else would? Cows? 

"He has his own race of worshippers. They're jackal men, standing on two feet. The locals call them anubisiths. They guard the dead buried there and will not act kindly to you disturbing their master's temple," he warned.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. It seemed as if he were trying to stop me from going.

"Just warning you," Ouranos said, "Good luck, Sarin. Oh, and one last thing: Remember that whistle. It will come in handy." With his final words he disappeared and I fell back to sleep.

It was finally morning when I woke. Tarik and Sophia were still asleep when I slipped downstairs. There was no sign of the battle from last night or the old lady. I walked outside to get a little air. The morning retained much of the night's cold temperature. The sun was just peeking above the horizon. The sand was soft and a little chilly under my bare feet.

I walked around the back of the house and pulled the wooden whistle from my pocket. I examined it more carefully.  It was long and thin, maybe the size of my index finger and width of my thumb. The end was cut into a mouth piece to blow into with a hole at the other side to make the noise. The item was a dark brown and had small horses carved into the left and right side of it. They stuck out slightly and looked as if they were running. They seemed to be made of the waves that traveled behind them which were outlined in a faded blue paint. 

I brought it up to my lips and breathed in.

"What are you doing?" a girl asked me.

I quickly shoved the wooden whistle into my pocket and turned. It was Sophia. "Nothing," I said a little too quickly. She looked at me skeptically. 

"What was that thing in your hand?" she asked.

I looked at her, sighed, and pulled the item from my pocket. I held it out to her. She slowly reached out and took the whistle.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A whistle," I told her.

"Obviously," she said, "Where'd you get it?"

"The boat captain gave it to me to give to you," I said and looked down.

"Why didn't you give it to me sooner?" she asked me.