moaned softly.
Asha stared at them.
What the hell is he doing?
By tiny degrees, Omar arched his back. He moved one hand around to the small of Lilith’s back and pulled her close, pressing her belly to his, pressing her hips to his. And he continued to lean back, pulling her chest onto his as he tasted her mouth. She closed her eyes, and moaned again. And then Omar leaned back a bit more and fell, and Lilith fell with him, her eyes opening for a fraction of a moment as they plummeted toward the floor, arms wrapped around each other, mouths pressed tightly together.
In that brief moment, Asha saw Lilith’s eyes open and flash with fear.
Fear, and lust.
Omar’s back fell squarely on the flat side of Gideon’s sword and his flesh vanished in a flash of flames and cinders, leaving Lilith to crashed through his charred bones onto the blade, and disintegrate in a brief roar of fire. And then they were gone.
Asha blinked.
She looked around the room as though waiting for something else to happen, for another creature to appear, for another disaster to erupt. But there was nothing. Dust and ash and cinders swirled lazily through the air, and all was silence except for the crackling and growling of the seireiken. On the floor, two tiny specks of charred sun-steel shone on the stone like oil stains.
Their pendants. So much for immortality.
Asha reached down and cleared away the heavy stones from Gideon’s back and legs, and a few moments later the soldier awoke and healed and was himself again. Asha sent the dragon away, and stood beside Gideon in the dancing light of the torches, looking down at the two skeletons still entwined like lovers on the floor.
Gideon sighed. “I guess it was what he wanted.”
“It’s not what I wanted,” Asha said. “He shouldn’t have had to die.”
“Maybe not,” Gideon said gently. “But he did, and it was his choice, and I can respect that. We should honor his sacrifice, not question his decision. It’s over.”
Asha nodded. “It is over. But too many people had to die to end it.”
I came here to save him. And instead, he died to save me. He didn’t have to. I wasn’t in danger. I was stronger than her, I know I was.
So then, why? My soul wasn’t his to save.
Asha cast one last look around the chamber and listened one last time with her dragon’s ear. She heard nothing. “Come on. There’s nothing left here now.”
He managed a wry smile and turned to leave. “Time to celebrate?”
She looked up at him.
How can he just smile like that? Two people he’s known for thousands of years have just died. He could have died himself.
She tried to smile back, and after a moment she succeeded. With that one gesture, she felt some of the pain and darkness of the last few days begin to fade. The memories were still there, the pain was still there, but she too was still there. Still alive, with a life before her. “Celebrate? No, no time for that. We still have work to do.”
Chapter 30
Asha and Gideon climbed out of the pyramid and back down to the road where they found Taziri and Wren talking and laughing quietly in the shadows.
Asha paused in the middle of the road and looked back up at the pyramid, a dark pile of stone in a dark cavern that the entire world had forgotten.
“What’s wrong?” Gideon asked.
“I don’t know,” Asha said. “After all this madness, it doesn’t feel quite real to think that’s really over, just like that.”
He nodded. “I know what you-”
The feathered beast lying in the road behind him snorted and shuddered. Its beak scraped the stone road and its huge legs bent and kicked, and it lurched up onto its feet. The huge predator lifted its blood-painted face and roared at the blackness above them.
Gideon grabbed his gauntlet and his seireiken illuminated the giant bird of war. Asha hesitated, and then a strange smile spread across her face. She ran past Gideon toward the monster as the dragon came alive within her. It did not hunger in her belly or rage in her heart. It simply slipped over her skin like a soft blanket, wrapping her in scales and claws that shone and glittered in the bright white light.
Asha leapt into the air with a song in her heart and a light in her eyes, and she drove her fist into the side of the monster’s head. The feathered titan’s skull snapped up and back, and the beast was lifted off its feet as it fell backward, and then it crashed down onto the road. The earth groaned and the dust rose, and Asha landed lightly on the belly of the predator. She listened, and heard nothing at all from the body beneath her.
When she dropped back down to the road, Gideon stood there gaping at her. “That was reckless,” he said.
“I know.” Asha exhaled, washing the dragon away with that simple breath.
“It was childish and dangerous.”
“I know. You’re absolutely right.” She patted him on the shoulder as she walked past him toward the shadows where Taziri and Wren waited. “But now it feels like it’s over.”
The soldier nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”
Gideon carefully lifted Wren, and they set out down the long, dark highways of the necropolis, and all the way Gideon recounted the events that had transpired with Lilith and Omar.
Asha watched Wren’s face and saw the sadness in the girl’s eyes upon learning that Omar was dead, but it was a momentary grief. The girl accepted the loss calmly and thoughtfully, and she was quiet for many long moments. But their conversation moved on to other things, to helping the fifty lost men and women waiting by the bonfire, and Wren soon joined in, smiling and saying silly things to make Taziri laugh.
They found the refugees huddled around the dying embers of the bonfire that glittered red and gold with cinders and hot coals. They all appeared calm and ready to leave, and most could walk unaided, so together they moved on down the dark road through the city of the dead, guided by the gleam of Gideon’s sword. It was a slow procession, but a calm one, and even those who were afraid of the dark, who flinched at every sound and clung to their fellows, learned to smile nervously. Some of them even sang.
Eventually they reached the tunnel and began to ascend, and then they reached the surface and began to climb out. Night had fallen, and the black sky shone with stars and moonlight. And there by the fountain stood Isis, Horus, and Bastet. The immortals led the strange and weary procession a short distance down the road to a large hotel, which they had rented out in its entirety for the night.
For hours, Asha sat by the fire and cleaned cuts and stitched wounds and washed away blood, until everyone was whole, and everyone was fed, and everyone found someplace warm and safe to sleep. She fashioned a splint for Wren and made her some tea to ease the pain and help the girl sleep.
And then, whenever one else had been taken care of, Asha slept.
When morning came, Asha’s patients began to leave one by one. Most of them had only been missing for a few days, or weeks at most, and they were eager to hurry home to their families. By noon, every last one of them had come down from their beds, eaten breakfast, thanked Asha and Gideon profusely, and left.
Gideon sat down across from Asha. He turned his chair around and rested his chin on the back of it. “It feels strange, knowing that they’re gone. Bashir and Lilith, and Set and Nethys. The world feels different. Smaller, somehow.”
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded.
