Distantly Falling Stars (GRAND WINNER * ONC 2019)

5. Departure and Pursuit

The military ship vibrated violently under the force of the solar-driven, underwater turbines that propelled it towards the delta at a speed that made Seti's stomach churn.

"Sick in the face, already?" called the captain, a small, lithe man sunburnt so dark he almost looked Nubian. "This is nothing. Wait until we get to The Great Green!"  

The Great Green. Seti had never been far enough north to see the vast open water that marked the end of Egypt and the beginning of the rest of the world. His father had, though, and said it was every true sailor's dream. A water without shores, without direction. Nothing but the wind and the stars and the waves. That had been his father's idea of earthly perfection, but Seti was unsure if it was his. 

He'd sailed with his father on the transport ships when he was a boy, of course, throwing ropes and moving the poles, but never further up or down river than a few leagues. 

The river always had a breeze, but Seti was unprepared for the  constant gale that pushed against him and the virtually constant mist of water that sprayed his body and clothing on the turbined ship. He'd long since taken off his wig, afraid it would be blown off and lost in the waves. 

The captain slowed considerably when passing by larger towns or overtaking transport groups, but always with some choice curses on his lips. Every tall, stone watchtower they passed flew the red warning flag with the white shield that signalled an approaching military convoy. To avoid accidents, smaller or slower river craft were supposed to dock or move as close to the shore of the wide river as possible the minute the flags were hoisted. 

Were supposed to. 

A few merchant ships refused to dock and yielded only minimally.  Seti turn around to watch as the crew were tossed and a few thrown overboard into the frothy, choppy waves that unfolded in the wake of the eight rapidly passing military ships.

"Donkey mounting idiots!" screamed the captain into the wind. "I hope they lost some cargo." 

Seti held onto the thick rope loop attached to the front of his small, roofed cabin and watched the landscape run past like an escaping thief or a child in pursuit of a ball. Temples, towns, villages, people doing their washing, fishermen pulling in their catch, and fields, fields, fields, fields. But always off  in the distance behind the bustle and life of the fertile green strip hugging the river were the dusty, purple mountains that rose from the desert.   

Egypt was the river. Without it, there would be no kingdom. 

If ever he needed to be reminded of that, the evidence lay right before him. He'd never seen so much of his own country. 

Seti mentally wrung his hands, hoping his message would be delivered to Seshat. There was no telling how long this voyage was to take, or even if he'd come back. On land, at home, he'd felt the potential for danger looming just beyond his edge of his sight. But now, speeding towards the delta, toward the limits of Egypt, the full realisation of his situation hit him. 

He might never come back. The Great Green might swallow him or they might sail around attempting to find the Babylonians and this mystery island until they all perished of sunstroke and dehydration. He just might arrive in the Hall of Osiris much sooner than he'd planned. 

And what would he say to the god of the Underworld? 

Seti shook his head to get rid of his worries and morbid thoughts. He had been hustled onto the ship so quickly, he'd not had time to ask any questions. And perhaps, he reflected, that had been the point. He remembered the friendly, but firm, hand on his arm pulling him away when he'd asked for details.