CHAPTER 18

Benzamir managed to get to Wahir before he fell. They slid a way down the side of the pyramid, finally jarring to a halt against a block of stone.

‘Slow down. You’ll kill yourself.’

Wahir took a deep breath. ‘Chariots,’ he said.

‘I know.’

‘To the north.’

‘Wahir, I know.’ Benzamir made certain that the boy wasn’t going to slip down any further and climbed up a little way. In the distance he saw a dust cloud, rising to the sky and obscuring everything behind it. But in the foreground, following the line of the flood plain, was a horde of chariots, their horses already at the trot.

‘There must be a couple of hundred of them,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that an amazing sight?’

‘What are we going to do?’ gasped Wahir.

‘Apart from look at them?’

‘Master! It’s an army. Look where they’re heading.’

‘You spoil all my fun,’ said Benzamir. If he concentrated, he could hear them: hooves pounding, wheels clattering, traces jingling. They were coming straight towards them at a speed that didn’t inspire confidence. They weren’t advancing. They were attacking. ‘Right. Let’s get off this pyramid for a start.’

He grabbed Wahir’s arm and headed down. He spotted Said standing next to Alessandra, who was using her telescope to decide for herself whether to panic or not. Once she’d seen enough, she headed straight for the stand of horses, shouting as she went. Said was left to wait.

‘Master, it’s the Ethiopians.’

‘Is that good or bad?’

‘How should I know? Trust our luck to get caught up in a war.’

Benzamir and Wahir jumped the last stretch and landed in a heap at Said’s feet. By the time he’d helped them up, the camp was in uproar. The black-clad diggers were frantically trying to save what they could, using the men who hadn’t deserted at the first cry. There was a bloody riot beginning at one of the slavers’ compounds, and the local traders from Misr had vanished back towards the river.

‘The ferry?’ suggested Wahir.

‘It won’t do any good. The Ethiopian commander’s sent a small force down the far bank to cut off any escape. We’re going to have to head the other way.’

‘Into the desert? That’s madness,’ said Said. The approaching chariots were rumbling like distant thunder.

‘I’m not going to see if I can face down an entire army, not even for you two. Come on.’ Benzamir headed for the smallest of the three pyramids and called back. ‘Seriously, hurry. Whatever it is they’re after, I don’t want to have to either fight or answer awkward questions.’

They ran, and Benzamir aimed them directly at the approaching charioteers.

‘What are we doing?’

‘Broken ground to the north. Chariots are going to have to go to the river first. They’ll turn before they get to us.’

‘How do you know all this?’ panted Said. ‘You’ve never been here before.’

‘The advantages of satellite photography, my friend. Head for that hill. There’s a ruin on top–we can hide there.’ Benzamir pushed Said onwards and took Wahir’s hand. ‘This isn’t the time for dawdling.’

The valley they headed into was dry, but full of tough, thorny bushes that had to be avoided. The dust cloud was now almost above them, and the noise was incredible. There were individual cries of men and horses above the relentless rumble of wheels.

‘Up,’ urged Benzamir. ‘You can rest when you’re dead.’

Wahir was too exhausted even to complain. Eventually they made it to a low stone wall on the crest of the hill. Said threw himself over the top, and Benzamir tipped Wahir after him.

A horse whinnied close by, and they all ducked down.

‘Can’t you use your magic to make us invisible?’ Said rolled onto his back and started to pick the thorns out of his legs.

‘Yes, I could, but it’d take too long to explain why I can’t right now. Keeping out of sight is much easier.’ Benzamir risked a look. The whole of the Nile valley in front of him was swarming with chariots chasing individuals on foot and forcing them to surrender. When they stood and fought, they were cut down without hesitation, trampled by the horses or run through by spears.

Some of the diggers were getting away, but only by leaving all their merchandise behind. Those who had stayed to pack up were encircled and rounded up. The ferrymen had deserted their fares: nor could they land on the Misr side. They were stuck midstream, and useless to anyone.

Benzamir sat down behind the wall and pressed his back to the crumbling stone. ‘I can safely say the Ethiopians knew precisely what they were doing. They weren’t after the men as such, more the goods. If it hadn’t been for Wahir, we’d have been caught.’

Wahir hauled air in and out of his lungs and took the compliment as his due.

‘What do we do now, master?’

‘We wait, Said. We wait here until nightfall, when I can get us back into the city. We’ve water, and we can find some shade. Though if that horse doesn’t shut up, it’s going to attract all sorts of unwelcome attention.’

The horse down below their ruined temple was neighing and grunting. Now that the chariots had mostly slowed their thunderous charge, it was all too obvious.

‘It could be hurt, master,’ said Said.

‘In which case I’ll have to go and put an end to it. Great.’ Benzamir put his hand out. ‘Borrow your sword?’

Said slid it out of its scabbard and Benzamir secreted it under the folds of his kaftan. ‘Don’t be seen, master.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ He lay across the top of the wall, rolled off, and was gone.

         

Benzamir longed for his adaptive armour; anyone he came upon would have had to fall over him before spotting him. The paradox was that it was too obviously different to wear.

Instead, he kept low, using what cover he could. The air was still stirred up by the passage of the chariots, everything surrounded in an ochre haze. The Ethiopians had nearly finished with the diggers, and he wondered how Selah had got on.

The horse noises were intermittent, but they came from the same place every time. Benzamir presumed Said was right about the animal being injured: he couldn’t heal it, so it would be a kindness to put it out of its misery. He slunk lower into the valley until he could spot the chestnut head tossing this way and that behind a stand of thorns.

He managed to get upwind of the beast and took a good look at it. It seemed at first sight to be unharmed, but its reins were caught in the sharp branches of a bush. He crept closer, and the horse turned to see him, breaking out in a fresh wave of sweat. It shook its head violently from side to side, trying to free itself, and only managed to scratch its muzzle in the struggle. It made even more noise, and Benzamir had to dance past flying hooves and nipping teeth to get hold of the reins.

‘Quiet, you stupid animal,’ he said firmly, ‘or I’ll silence you myself.’ He cut the reins with his eating knife, and the ungrateful horse bolted away out towards the Ethiopians, over a body lying in the dirt.

He recognized the pattern on the headscarf. Alessandra was more or less out in the open, and he’d be dangerously exposed if he even tried to see if she was dead or alive. There was no question of him trying to reach her; it was a matter of waiting for the right moment.

Then it was too late. A chariot wheeled by, and the spearman patted the driver on the back and pointed. The soldier jumped off, the metal plates of his armour glittering, and started towards both Alessandra and Benzamir.

Benzamir froze, and watched breathlessly as the soldier tapped the body with the haft of his spear. He smiled and called back to the chariot as he saw the shape move. Then he took a step back and poked her with more force.

Alessandra stirred and looked up. The Ethiopian saw that she was not only a woman, but a Ewer. He urged her to get up, but it was clear that she had no idea which way was up, let alone how much trouble she was in.

‘This is going to end badly, no matter what I do,’ muttered Benzamir. He rose from his hiding place, sword in hand, and said in his best Amharic: ‘Put her down. You don’t know where she’s been.’

His intention was clear, even if his words were obscure. The soldier immediately took a defensive stance and shouted for help. Benzamir came at him at a run. The spear was levelled at his belly, and at the last moment he slid under the iron point, his feet connecting with the Ethiopian’s shins.

He curved his body round his sword blade, tumbled out of the fall and swung hard and fast. Metal met wood, and the spear shaft splintered and shivered out of the man’s hands.

The soldier hesitated before lunging at Benzamir with both hands outstretched. He spun aside, moved his body behind and kicked out again. Sprawled in the dust, the Ethiopian never saw the double-handed clubbing blow descending on the back of his helmet.

Benzamir jumped up, and the chariot driver turned his long knife in a nervous circle. Then he turned and ran for the horses, Benzamir dogging his footsteps. He caught him, lifted him and threw him. The knife spiralled away. The Ethiopian aimed a fist at Benzamir’s face. He didn’t even bother to dodge it, just crowded forward and jabbed his forearm hard across the man’s windpipe.

Exhilarated, Benzamir retrieved Said’s sword and ran back to Alessandra. She was holding the side of her head and there was blood slipping between her fingers.

‘What…?’ she said, slurring.

‘You can thank me later,’ said Benzamir. ‘Right now we have the entire Ethiopian army breathing down our necks.’ He dragged her upright and threw her over his shoulder. ‘Hang on.’

He was halfway up the hill again when he heard Said shout, ‘Master! Archers!’

‘Like this couldn’t get any worse.’ There was a rattling in the rocks to his right, and another behind him. He glanced round, and there were more arrows already in flight. He was invulnerable, but he couldn’t extend his protection to Alessandra. He let her fall to the ground and straightened his arm.

The arid scrub exploded once, twice, three times. He followed up the initial barrage with a series of detonations that forced the bowmen to run for their lives.

Said scrambled down to meet them. ‘Your power is awesome, master. The infidels are routed.’

‘And in a moment they’ll be back with reinforcements. In the meantime half of Egypt will be talking about this. Have your sword back.’ Benzamir scooped up the woman and hurried back to the ruins.

Wahir was busy watching the plain. ‘They have infantry, master, with swords and shields. They’re massing in the valley.’

‘You know,’ said Benzamir, ‘this is precisely what I didn’t want to happen. And I’m ashamed that part of me is wishing that I’d left her to the soldiers.’ He explored the wound on her head, and she moaned and gasped as his fingers probed.

‘Will she live, master?’

‘She’d better, after all the trouble she’s caused. I can’t feel any bones moving around. Alessandra? Can you hear me?’

‘What? Who’s that? Who are you?’

‘Benzamir Mahmood. Your horse threw you.’

She sat up, and dry-heaved.

‘You’ve got a concussion, but we can’t stay here. There are soldiers coming up the hill, and while I’d like to fight them all single-handed, I’m averse to bloody slaughter.’

Said looked shocked. ‘Do we surrender? We don’t have anyone to ransom us. We’ll end up as slaves.’

At the mention of slaves, Alessandra started to thrash around. ‘No. No. Not again. I won’t.’

‘Hush. No friends of mine will ever be slaves. We just have to wait for a short while, and help will be here.’

‘Master,’ said Wahir, ‘the Ethiopians have split their force into two. They’re going to attack from two sides.’

‘We won’t be here when they arrive. Just don’t panic.’ Benzamir pulled Wahir down out of sight and patted the dust next to him. ‘Said, sit here. We need to keep close together. I’m doing this on minimal guidance and it’s not as accurate as it could be.’

A concussion that made the ground jump; a geyser of dust and rock; a shriek from Wahir and Alessandra; a bass bellow from Said. Even Benzamir flinched, and he knew it was coming.

Half buried in the stony soil was a fat silver tube, streaked with soot and strange coloured patterns.

‘Sorry. That was closer than I would have liked,’ apologized Benzamir. He spat out a mouthful of debris and dangled his legs over the edge of the crater.

The cylinder opened up like a flower and the contents fell out. Wahir looked over the rim in astonishment. ‘How did you do that?’

‘Magic. Here, hold this.’ He passed up what looked like a metal skullcap and unrolled a length of thick black cloth on the broken ground. He did something to it, and it suddenly went rigid like a slab of stone. Then he hooked on four spheres the size of grapefruit, one to each corner.

‘Master?’

‘No time to talk. Sit on that, and don’t take up too much room. It wasn’t designed for four. Said, get Alessandra over here.’

Said was reluctant to even touch the Ewer woman. Benzamir had to growl at him to make him put his hands under her shoulders and drag her.

‘Just sit next to Wahir. I’ll do the rest.’ He helped her down into the hollow and propped her up against Said’s back. ‘Wahir? The cap.’

‘What’s going to happen?’

‘This. Hold on tight.’ Benzamir clapped the skullcap down on his head, looked distracted for a moment, then the cloth rose into the air.

Everyone shrieked, even Alessandra, which Benzamir took to be a good sign.

‘Abracadabra,’ he said, and showed all his teeth in a wicked smile. The front of the craft dipped down, and they started to move forward, over the crater, over the low wall, down the slope into the valley.

He took a moment to destroy the evidence: the discarded cylinder vanished in two fearsome explosions, transforming it into unrecognizable scraps of shrapnel.

Someone shouted behind them, but there was no storm of arrows or javelins. Benzamir liked to think that the soldiers were so stunned to see a genuine flying carpet that all they could do was stand and stare.