he. "But surely there is another way. If we go there, we will be damned. No one returns from the Valley of Hidden Voices. It is cursed."
"Yes," Osiris said, pulling his weapon from Sobek's throat. He began wrapping furs around himself, clearly preparing to depart. "Isis, I would hear your words on this."
He turned to address her. Isis considered carefully before answering. The Valley was a dark place, one even the spirits feared. They held no power there. "The spirits will offer us no protection. If we enter the Valley, we do so at great peril."
"If we do not, then we are all dead," Osiris snapped. He seemed on the verge of saying more, but Sekhmet's silent form dropped into the camp.
"They pursue us still. They will be upon this place not long after the sun sleeps," she said. She studied Osiris's preparations for departure. Then she began gathering her own furs.
"All of you need to decide right now if I am truly your chieftain," Osiris said. He straightened, his gaze roaming their assembled faces.
"We go where you go," Sekhmet said simply.
Isis answered by reaching up and squeezing Osiris's arm. The flesh was cold and she knew hers was just as cold. They had bare hours before they succumbed to the land.
"You are my chieftain," Sobek snarled. He seized the last of his furs and threw it about his shoulders. "If you wish to doom us with this madness, that is your right."
The long, low trumpet of a horn split the gathering dusk, still distant but far closer than it had been just a day before. That silenced the assembled group. They moved into a loping run as one, departing the gully and winding their way between two hills. How long they ran, Isis wasn't sure. She gave herself fully to the activity, loping through the footsteps pressed into the snow by the others ahead of her.
Clarity returned when the assembled group reached the crest of a tall hill. Isis turned in a wide circle, looking out over ring of hills covered by mighty glaciers. In their center stood the Black Mountain, the very reason the Valley was so feared. It towered over the glaciers, each slope unnaturally smooth and bare of snow as if the unholy place refused to accept winter's touch. Her mother's mother had told her stories, but they captured neither the majesty nor the foreboding of the place.
"Spirits below," Sekhmet breathed. She raised a trembling finger, pointing at the mountain.
Osiris began picking his way down the icy slope without a word. The others followed, with Isis bringing up the rear. Her gut knotted as she darted quick glances at the Black Mountain. Even staring at it seemed wrong, as if so doing might draw its attention.
Her heart beat more swiftly as they reached the Valley floor and moved toward the mountain. It loomed before them, still visible as the last light of the sun fled the sky. The moon cut a hole in the clouds, bathing the awful structure in her light.
Osiris had stopped near a cave in the side of the mountain, its walls cut at sharp angles just like the slopes. Sobek and Sekhmet drew up short next to Osiris as Isis forced herself forward. She yearned to flee as she drew even with the others, but loyalty to her tribe restrained her.
The shadows at the mouth of the cave stirred as a figure emerged. It was short like Isis but much broader of shoulder and had a heavy brow that overshadowed its eyes. Thick, dark eyebrows gave it a brutish look, though its eyes glittered with intelligence.
The stranger approached slowly, raising a hand to beckon them forward. Its other hand clutched a staff that shone in the moonlight, a magical thing that could not be more different than the carved branch Isis bore. The head of the staff bore strange symbols, etched into the body of a golden scarab with wide wings arcing smoothly over it. It was unmistakably an artifact of the gods, though Isis had never seen one before. No one had. But the legends had survived.
Set into the center of the scarab was a gem the size of her
"Yes," Osiris said, pulling his weapon from Sobek's throat. He began wrapping furs around himself, clearly preparing to depart. "Isis, I would hear your words on this."
He turned to address her. Isis considered carefully before answering. The Valley was a dark place, one even the spirits feared. They held no power there. "The spirits will offer us no protection. If we enter the Valley, we do so at great peril."
"If we do not, then we are all dead," Osiris snapped. He seemed on the verge of saying more, but Sekhmet's silent form dropped into the camp.
"They pursue us still. They will be upon this place not long after the sun sleeps," she said. She studied Osiris's preparations for departure. Then she began gathering her own furs.
"All of you need to decide right now if I am truly your chieftain," Osiris said. He straightened, his gaze roaming their assembled faces.
"We go where you go," Sekhmet said simply.
Isis answered by reaching up and squeezing Osiris's arm. The flesh was cold and she knew hers was just as cold. They had bare hours before they succumbed to the land.
"You are my chieftain," Sobek snarled. He seized the last of his furs and threw it about his shoulders. "If you wish to doom us with this madness, that is your right."
The long, low trumpet of a horn split the gathering dusk, still distant but far closer than it had been just a day before. That silenced the assembled group. They moved into a loping run as one, departing the gully and winding their way between two hills. How long they ran, Isis wasn't sure. She gave herself fully to the activity, loping through the footsteps pressed into the snow by the others ahead of her.
Clarity returned when the assembled group reached the crest of a tall hill. Isis turned in a wide circle, looking out over ring of hills covered by mighty glaciers. In their center stood the Black Mountain, the very reason the Valley was so feared. It towered over the glaciers, each slope unnaturally smooth and bare of snow as if the unholy place refused to accept winter's touch. Her mother's mother had told her stories, but they captured neither the majesty nor the foreboding of the place.
"Spirits below," Sekhmet breathed. She raised a trembling finger, pointing at the mountain.
Osiris began picking his way down the icy slope without a word. The others followed, with Isis bringing up the rear. Her gut knotted as she darted quick glances at the Black Mountain. Even staring at it seemed wrong, as if so doing might draw its attention.
Her heart beat more swiftly as they reached the Valley floor and moved toward the mountain. It loomed before them, still visible as the last light of the sun fled the sky. The moon cut a hole in the clouds, bathing the awful structure in her light.
Osiris had stopped near a cave in the side of the mountain, its walls cut at sharp angles just like the slopes. Sobek and Sekhmet drew up short next to Osiris as Isis forced herself forward. She yearned to flee as she drew even with the others, but loyalty to her tribe restrained her.
The shadows at the mouth of the cave stirred as a figure emerged. It was short like Isis but much broader of shoulder and had a heavy brow that overshadowed its eyes. Thick, dark eyebrows gave it a brutish look, though its eyes glittered with intelligence.
The stranger approached slowly, raising a hand to beckon them forward. Its other hand clutched a staff that shone in the moonlight, a magical thing that could not be more different than the carved branch Isis bore. The head of the staff bore strange symbols, etched into the body of a golden scarab with wide wings arcing smoothly over it. It was unmistakably an artifact of the gods, though Isis had never seen one before. No one had. But the legends had survived.
Set into the center of the scarab was a gem the size of her
Similar Books
