After a month he passed along a ridgeline and an opening in the jungle gave him a view of the land to the south.
Nosferatu came to a halt, staring at the vista. Mountains with their peaks covered in white clouds filled the southern horizon. He realized they were what he had seen from the desert so long ago.
Nosferatu looked left and right. The mountains stretched in both directions.
He assumed there was a way around, and his inclination was to the right, to the west, as he needed to get to that coast eventually. But how far would it be to get around the range? Would there be more desert? Nosferatu stepped back, releasing the pressure from the harness. He had calluses on his shoulder where the leather bands had rubbed for so long. His body was hard, all muscle.
It had been four days since he’d fed, and he was burning energy at a high rate. He realized he would never be able to pull Nekhbet’s tube across another desert, even a small one. The mountains ahead promised to be an extremely difficult endeavor.
And what did it matter, he realized, if he did get her to the Skeleton Coast? So they could sleep next to each other every day, while he waited for the time to bring her back?
Nosferatu looked at the peaks. He focused on the center one, a mountain slightly apart from the others. Leaning into the straps, he headed toward it.
He reached the base in a week, surprised to find himself in the midst of swamp and marshes. He splashed his way through, the going actually easier where he could partially float the tube. Then he reached a place where the watery landscape gave way as the ground sloped up. He began the arduous task of pulling the tube upslope. He wondered if the peaks were the source of the Nile as streams splashed down the rocky terrain around him. It was certainly the strangest place he’d ever been. At one point he passed through a bizarre level on the slopes where monstrous plants grew among the rocks, some over ten or twenty times the normal size. Nosferatu picked up a sense of the primeval about the place, as if it had been forgotten in some hole in time, while the world around it had progressed.
After ten days, most of the vegetation fell behind as he passed above the tree line. The terrain now was the exact opposite of what it had been. A few bushes struggled to grow, clinging to wind-scoured rocks. He was in the mist now, able to see only a short distance ahead. Several times he had to retreat and try to find a different way as he ran into slopes that were too steep to pull the tube up.
Twice he had to abandon Nekhbet’s tube and make the climb down to the more temperate zone to hunt the villagers who lived at the base of the mountains. Each feeding cost him a four-day round-trip and almost wasn’t worth the effort by the time he climbed back up.
Soon he was in snow, the whiteness blinding as he pulled the tube upward. Finally, he could go no farther. There was no trail and he would have to climb hand over hand to go higher. Nosferatu rested the next day, then spent the evening searching the mountainside.
On the third night, he found a small cave, more a crack in the side of the mighty mountain that extended about twelve feet in, but was only waist high. The fourth night he moved Nekhbet’s tube into the cave, shoving it ahead of him until it touched the end.
He spent the next day sitting cross-legged at the foot of the tube, swathed in robes and cloaks taken from victims to protect him from both the cold and the white mist light. He was tired and the hunger was strong. But he did not want to leave. Though he had slept for thousands of years and some things had changed, the world still was not a safe place for Nekhbet and him. How many more years would have to pass before he came back and recovered and revived her so they could walk the world together?
Nosferatu felt the cold hand of loneliness begin to grip his heart.
He spent another day and night and the following day at the foot of her tube until finally he knew the time had come. He leaned over and placed his hands on the cold metal. His lips lightly touched the smooth surface with a last kiss, then he slid out of the hole and began piling rocks in it, covering the tube. When he was done, there was no sign of the hole, just a small clutter of rocks along the side of the mountain.
“I will return,” he whispered. Then Nosferatu turned and headed downslope, leaving his love behind on the mountainside.
CHAPTER 5
Vampyr watched the plumes of gray smoke rise in the night air. The horizon in the direction of the Giza Plateau glowed blood-red from the hundreds of fires the invaders had set. Even at this distance he could hear the cries of the wounded and the pleas of prisoners prior to summary execution by the invading Assyrians.
The Third Age of Egypt was over.
Vampyr knew there were battles raging in other places throughout the kingdom.
The third Pharaoh of the Twenty-fifth Dynasty, Taharqa, still had forces under his command and was slowly giving way to the south, continuing a war that had been going on for fifty years and ranged in scope from Palestine to Ethiopia. Chaos was rampant, and the opportunity for which Vampyr had waited so long finally presented itself.
He moved quickly, running across the desert sands toward the east and the plateau. He’d followed the western flank of the Assyrian Army, staying far out in the desert, as it closed on Giza. He hoped in all the turmoil to steer clear of Aspasia’s Shadow if he was about.
As he crested a dune, Vampyr saw the plateau. The three pyramids were silhouetted by flames from the wooden temples and other structures that dotted the area. Vampyr headed directly for the river area, but the Watcher’s hut was empty. Hiding, Vampyr had no doubt. He grabbed a gray cloak from a peg near the door and left the hut, throwing the Watcher’s cloak over his shoulders.
Vampyr ran to the edge of the Nile, moving along until he saw an old weather-and waterworn stone pillar. Vampyr looked around and spotted a large rock. He picked it up and grasped to it his chest. Then he jumped into the river.
The weight of the stone quickly pulled him under. Even in the dark water he could see relatively well and he spotted the opening for the Roads of Rostau. He let go of the stone and pulled himself toward the opening, only to find that the water of the Nile was streaming into the opening with such force, that he was immediately sucked in. He was pushed along with the current, tumbling against the smooth stone walls.
Vampyr spread his arms and legs wide, pressing against the walls of the tunnel. His left hand slipped into a side opening and his fingers clawed at the edge, grabbing hold and bringing him to a halt. It took all of his strength to pull himself into the side opening against the force of the current. He was in another tunnel, one where the water was still. Lungs bursting, Vampyr swam forward, not sure at all what direction he was going in.
He popped to the surface, gasping for air, looking about. There was a ledge about two feet above his head where the tunnel he was in opened up. He realized he had diverted into a shaft that went upward and he must have achieved the surface level of the Nile. He reached up and pulled himself into the chamber. There was a minute bit of light given off by a thin strip that ran around the top edge of the chamber, not enough for a human to pick up, but enough for Vampyr’s half-alien eyes to see his surroundings. The chamber was twenty feet square with a door in one wall. Dripping, Vampyr went to the door and walked into a corridor. He sniffed and picked up the faint scent of humans. He turned in their direction.
He found the Watcher and his family camped inside the Great Pyramid entrance to the roads, a stone guarding the outside opening. They were huddled in the darkness and did not see or hear him approaching. He saw an old man, an old woman, and two grown sons. He had no desire to negotiate. He walked right up to the family, grabbed the old man, and tore his throat out.