"Oh no," Jade breathed. "Quick, Heron, you get back home and pretend you had nothing do to with this." She gave the old man a push as he began to protest. Next, she turned to Marcus. Yanking out the Hyllion Bagia from beneath her shirt, she nodded to him. "Put Mjolnir into the Bag, Marcus, we can't have it falling into the hands of the Roman army."

Without argument, he dropped the weapon in then stripped off the iron gloves and belt and dropped them in, too.

"What about Blodbal," she held out the bag toward Phoenix. "We can't afford to lose it again." She held her breath as he stared at her suspiciously. Would he give it up? Was this their chance to separate him from it for awhile?

He glanced over at the lone soldier and shook his head. "I think it's pretty safe against one soldier."

She tucked the bag away again. As the officer approached, Marcus stepped forward with a bow and a smile.

Hopeful that Marcus' charm could divert suspicion, Jade kept half an eye on Phoenix, not sure what sort of mood he was in. He was watching the crowd so she listened briefly to the conversation between Marcus and the soldier. Marcus seemed to have the situation well in hand. He was telling the soldier that they had come out to investigate along with everyone else and had no idea what had caused the obelisk to fall. He sounded very believable; very much the aristocratic Roman.

She stared again at the fallen stone, nibbling her fingertip with worry. A quick glance around showed that Brynn had given up scurrying around the ruins and was now sliding amongst the crowd like a small eel. As she watched, she saw the boy deftly slip something into his pocket before disappearing into the growing crowd.

A growl nearby drew her attention back to Phoenix. He had laid a hand on Blodbal's hilt, his expression darkening into anger.

"Did you see that?" He elbowed Jade.

"What?" She was distracted by a rising swell of conversation at the back of the crowd. Someone new was coming. Someone important by the sounds of it.

"That kid is nothing but trouble," Phoenix said, sounding bitter. "First he takes one of my lives, now he's stealing again. We've got trouble enough on this quest without his thieving, conniving little ways. Maybe it's time someone taught that brat a thing or two."

Before she could stop him, he half-drew the sword. Several people in the crowd shrank back in fear as he stalked away after Brynn. Some of the crowd gasped; a woman screamed; many turned and fled back toward their houses.

Jade called after him twice, but he seemed focussed. He didn't even realise that the crowd weren't fleeing him, they were running from the newcomer.

"Phoenix!" She ran to his side, dragging at his arm. "There's trouble. We need your help."

Phoenix grunted at her. "There sure is. Brynn's been stealing and I'm about to teach him the lesson of his life."

She tugged harder at his arm, pulling him around. "No, look!"

The cloud of anger in his eyes seemed to lift for a moment as he saw what she meant. The Roman soldier lay, crumpled and b.l.o.o.d.y, at Marcus' feet. Half a dozen black arrows protruded from his back. Standing over the body, Marcus had his hands raised in the traditional sign of surrender.

Facing him in a loose semicircle were twenty men, bristling with swords and weapons. Four carried bows and the knocked arrows were pointed directly at Marcus' heart. All wore the black robes and blood-red masks of the Priests of Set.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

The debris-strewn square emptied almost as fast as it had filled. n.o.body wanted to risk an encounter with the soldier-priests of Set. Phoenix and Jade found themselves alone about twenty paces away from where Marcus stood. Phoenix briefly wondered where Brynn was, only to dismiss the boy as a coward for running with the crowd.

He gripped Blodbal's hilt and revelled in the rush of power surging into his body. Gone was the post-poison weakness; gone the fleeting worry he'd felt about facing those toxic blades again. He knew what to expect now. They were no match for Blodbal.

He drew the sword; the sound of metal slickering loud in the tense silence of the night. Two of the priests turned their bows on him. Phoenix smiled as he saw the air before them shimmer faintly purple-blue. Jade had wrapped the archers in a shield spell. He knew she couldn't hold it for long, but it gave him the chance to get closer. He pulled out his dagger with his left hand and held it ready.

Marcus must have recognised the signs, too, for he s.n.a.t.c.hed out his sword and ran back to join them. Jade stepped up from behind, her staff ready. The hooded priests began to move closer, trying to surround them. It was time for a battle.

"Don't let their blades touch you," Jade warned in a low voice.

"As if I'd forget that," Phoenix growled, feeling a wave of anger at the memory of what Brynn had done; what all three of his supposed friends had done. His muscles clenched. Blodbal became an extension of his arm as the liquid warmth of it invaded his body. Its song soared in his mind. He felt like laughing; like spitting in the faces of these stupid little priests. They had no idea of what he was capable. They would all die - and stay dead.

"Close one eye. I'm going to launch lights at their faces. It might blind them long enough to give us and advantage," Jade murmured. "When I douse the lights, open your eye and you should still be able to see."

Phoenix and Marcus nodded. Seconds later, half a dozen bright green witchlights flew from her fingertips like darts. Arrowing straight toward the priests, they danced in their faces. Flailing hands and swords pa.s.sed right through them. One of the archers crumpled to the ground; perhaps accidentally struck by his companions.

"Now!" Jade's shout was barely audible over the commotion. The lights snuffed out. Phoenix opened his eye and found he could see. His right eye saw fuzzy blackness, but his left was fine. Confusing, yes but he was better off than the priests. With hoa.r.s.e yell of triumph he sprang into action, Marcus by his side.

Once more he began to blend the circular movements of aikido with the cla.s.sic swordfighting style his avatar knew. Once more it was devastatingly effective. A priest flung himself at the sound of their voices, his curved sword slicing through the air toward Phoenix's throat. Phoenix spun aside, a deft block redirecting the sword harmlessly past. One quick stab and the man collapsed to the ground with a burbling groan.

A second attacker ran at him, weapon raised high. Phoenix stepped aside again, turned and sliced diagonally down, shearing through bone and sinew like b.u.t.ter. A sword came at him from behind. Blodbal warned him and his dagger hand jumped out to deflect. Again he turned, sliding his short blade along the priests' before twisting it aside and slicing up from below with the sword.

Two advanced more slowly. From his right came the meaty sound of Jade's staff slapping into someone's stomach and the hollow crack of a head-strike. On the other, Marcus fought in efficient silence, his sword flashing in the dim light provided by a few distant lamps.

The priests leapt forward. Blodbal's song rang loud in Phoenix's head until he heard nothing else. It sang to him of triumph, of glory, of death and justice. It took his blood and boiled it free of all compa.s.sion. It invaded his mind and forged it into steel as hard as its own blade. Then, once it had made its owner into a weapon, it urged him forward into battle. No mercy, it sang; no survivors.

The Priests of Set fell beneath Blodbal's bite. Phoenix danced clear of their tainted blades and laughed in their eerie, masked faces. He spun; sliced; turned; stabbed; killed without thought or hesitation. His mind and soul resounded with Blodbal's triumph at each death and each ending increased its hold over him until he saw the world through a red haze and neither knew nor cared which was friend and which foe.

At last there was only one hooded monk left standing before him. Phoenix raised his arm, almost disappointed that this would be his last. Before he could strike, the priest turned and bolted into the darkness, his booted feet slapping on the cobbles. With a war-cry, Phoenix sprinted after him.

From the gloom, someone yelled and stepped in his way. Phoenix swung Blodbal automatically, aiming to kill so he could continue the chase. To his surprise, the newcomer turned the blow aside with his own blade. Blood afire, Phoenix turned on this fresh enemy with savage delight. Dancing in, he faked an overhead strike then sliced at the knees. Again a blade deflected his. Continuing the momentum, Phoenix turned and slashed again; this time angling up from below. Once more he failed to connect. Blow after blow was spurned and Phoenix felt the anger blossom anew. n.o.body could beat him when he held Blodbal. n.o.body.

He quickened his strikes; changing direction with incredible speed; turning to leap forward, then back; even thrusting without regard for his own vulnerability. Nothing he did could break through the guard of his opponent. Every blow was parried.

Slowly, it dawned on Phoenix that his enemy was only blocking, not attacking. Why? It made no sense. There was something not right here. Something tugged at his mind; some feeling of...connection...recognition? The red mist of rage began to slip away, leaving Phoenix feeling cold and more than a little shaky. His swordstrokes slowed and began to waver. His arms sagged; Blodbal weighed a ton. Finally, he stepped back and looked into the dark eyes of his foe for the first time.

Marcus stared back at him, frowning, chest heaving, sword still held ready and dripping blood.

Confused, Phoenix shook his head but the image remained. "Marcus? Was I....was I just fighting you?" It didn't seem possible. It couldn't be.

Marcus nodded, watching him with a wary expression, still poised on his toes for quick movement. "The enemy are fled. We should go inside before more Roman soldiers or priests come."

Phoenix agreed absently, wiping his blade and sliding it into its sheath, feeling sick. He stumbled toward Heron's house, his head and heart pounding. He noticed Marcus didn't put his sword away. His stomach lurched at the thought. Marcus didn't trust him.

"Where's Jade?" He mumbled. At least she would still be his friend. It was getting harder and harder to think straight. The last of his berserker strength drained from his limbs, leaving them rubbery and weak.

"She's gone to get Brynn," Marcus replied.

That triggered a memory. "But Brynn was stealing. He ran away."

"No," the Roman sounded harsh, "Brynn knew his swordwork was not good, so he slipped aside, picked up stones and took down three of the archers with his sling. He is no coward."

The full impact of what he had thought and done now slammed in Phoenix's skull like a hammer. He was sickened by his beliefs and actions. Nausea overcame him and he threw up noisily into a potplant in Heron's courtyard. How could he have thought so badly of Brynn? How could he have been so excited and happy to kill people? What had happened to the Phoenix who had been revolted by the thought of killing Roman soldiers back in England? What had he become?

As he stumbled into the dining room, he realised he had become worse even than the person he hated and feared most in the real world Jacob, his stepfather. Far worse.

At that moment, Jade returned to Heron's house. She looked as troubled as Phoenix felt.

"Where's Brynn?" He looked for the younger boy as she entered. His tone may have sounded sharper than he intended, for she cast him a quick, a.s.sessing, half-scared look that made his heart sink. She didn't trust him, either.

She sank into a chair with a sigh, propping her staff against the table. "Brynn has been captured by the Priests of Set. I went to find him and saw two Priests carrying him away. They were gone before I could catch them or get help. Every spell I threw at them was bounced off them like water."

Phoenix clenched his jaw as guilt brought fresh bile to his throat. He barely met her eyes. She looked away, as though finding it hard not to blame him. Why not? If he had been in control, they might have been able to save Brynn.

"He's like the little brother I never had," her soft words caught on a half-sob. "He has to be alright, doesn't he?". She looked at Heron and Marcus as if for hope, but their faces were grim. Jade closed her eyes and covered her mouth. Phoenix could think of nothing to say. She hadn't looked to him anyway. A rock of self-loathing settled in his stomach.

"So now they have your friend and the G.o.ddess Anuket was not imprisoned in her own obelisk," Heron stated the obvious with disappointment.

"Yes," Jade murmured, "and, to make matters worse, we're still not sure when the 'death of the moon' deadline is to release Anuket and now the priests of Set know where we are. We can't stay here much longer or we'll put you in danger, too, Heron."

The old man waved her objection away. "Don't be silly, child. They won't be back tonight. The square is swarming with Roman soldiers. Right now we need to decide what your next course of action should be. You obviously need to rescue Brynn and complete your mission."

When they didn't reply, Heron patted Jade on the shoulder. "We're all tired and hungry. I'll send for food and my maps of the city. Perhaps a little time and thought will reveal a plan."

For awhile, as they ate, they tossed around various ideas: which obelisk Anuket might really be in; how to rescue Brynn; how to deal with the priests of Set. Phoenix contributed nothing. He had nothing worth hearing. He stared at his sword where it lay on the table. Finally, Marcus' voice pulled him back from his own fruitless, guilt-ridden thoughts.

"Jade," the Roman mused, "are you sure you put that illusion spell on us? Are you certain Zhudai cannot Fa.r.s.ee us?"

Jade blinked and sent him an anxious glance. "Of course. I even put it on Heron, just in case. Why?"

"I'm just trying to understand how the Priests of Set knew to find us here." He shook his dark head and frowned. "It doesn't make sense."

"Ah...um...yes," Heron raised one thin hand, looking sheepish. "I'm afraid that may have been my fault."

"How?" Jade and Marcus looked at the old man in surprise.

"Well," the old inventor grimaced, "when I went to see the Proconsul, I did mention that I might have found evidence of the Phoenix legend. I said I had brought it home for further study. It's quite possible that Proconsul Priscus' chief advisor overheard my comments. Court gossip says he is close to the High Priests of Set and was actively against my research trip to Memphis. It's most likely that he sent the Priests to destroy my evidence and they just arrived at the wrong time."

Jade closed her eyes. Phoenix could see she was struggling to maintain calm and patience, but at least she was succeeding.

He tried to make sense of everything; to connect all the threads and understand what was going on. Weariness blurred his thinking like wet paint running together on a canvas. He couldn't see the big picture any longer and the details didn't even make sense.

A sigh from Jade caught his wandering attention again. She pulled out her herb bag and selected some fresh leaves she must have picked from the housekeepers' garden.

Marcus frowned at her. "You don't need herbs. If you rely too much on them, you won't ever know your own strength."

She grimaced. "It's just barley gra.s.s for energy. I'm tired. Stop fussing"

He eyed her steadily, his mouth pressed thin. Phoenix found the hint of disharmony between them worrying.

"Let's forget about how the priests found us and concentrate first on how we're going to save Brynn, then find whatever tekhen Anuket is really being held in and destroy it before the deadline," she finally said, but her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

Phoenix surfaced back into full alertness feeling like someone had called his name. He sat quietly, listening, but no-one spoke. His body felt like he'd been pounded all over with a big, heavy pillow. He wanted to sleep, but something unresolved nagged at the back of his mind.

With an effort, he recalled the events of the evening: his anger with Brynn; the destruction of the tekhen with no release of Anuket; sickening memories of the battle with the priests of Set; his clash with Marcus; Brynn's capture. It had not been a good night.

Automatically, he reached for Blodbal, then hesitated with his hand still inches away from the hilt. He could almost hear it calling him; urging him to join with it; cajoling him with battle images and promises of glory. His hand moved closer of its own accord. The urge to strap it onto his hip was almost unbearable. With a shudder, Phoenix pulled back from it.

He couldn't be trusted with this weapon. Jade was right. It was beyond his control. He couldn't be the hero it wanted because his notion of a true hero wasn't a bloodthirsty berserker. A true hero walked away from a fight and didn't kill unless it was absolutely necessary; a true hero certainly didn't betray and turn on his friends.

Looking around, he saw Jade sitting with her eyes closed again while Marcus and Heron watched her. The faint frown on Marcus' face told Phoenix exactly how hard Jade had been pushing herself. Brynn was captured by the enemy and she was trying to fix everything on her own. Phoenix closed his own eyes. He had let all three of his companions down with his weakness. Now it was time he made up for it. As he watched, Jade ran a hand through her long, white-blonde hair and sighed heavily.

"I just get the feeling we're missing something obvious some connection between everything I can't quite see."

In that moment, Phoenix finally joined up the dots and almost kicked himself for his own stupidity. He sat up straight. Jade exchanged wary looks with Marcus. The Roman boy had tensed at Phoenix's movement. His hand now rested on his sword. Phoenix tried to ignore it, but the thought that Marcus felt threatened was painful. He put it aside. There were other issues to deal with first.

He drew a deep breath. Swiftly, he explained to Jade the revelation he'd had in Set's prison that their job in each quest was not just to complete the task, but to restore Balance and Harmony in each place.

Next, he apologised to Marcus for turning on him and a.s.sured him it would never, ever happen again. The Roman bowed stiffly, but it was clear he wasn't ready to believe Phoenix's promises. It hurt, but he could understand Marcus' hesitation. As long as Blodbal remained in his hands, he was dangerous to his own friends.

Finally, he slid the sword toward Jade. "Put it in the bag. I won't use it unless we have no choice."

The group was silent awhile then Jade touched his hand with a tentative smile. "Thankyou. I'll keep it safe." She pulled out the Hyllion Bagia and pushed Blodbal into its inky depths, taking care to touch only the leather hilt with the tips of her fingers.

He had to bite his tongue to stop a cry of protest. Even from within the Bag he could feel its seductive pull. It took all his strength not to demand it back; not to cradle it to his chest and rea.s.sure it he would carry it until his death. The looks of relief on his friends' faces weren't even enough to make him feel better. It was like losing an arm.

With an effort, Phoenix wrenched his thoughts back on track and looked at each of his friends in turn.

"I know where Anuket has to be. She's got to be in the Tekhen of Set the G.o.d of chaos and disease; the G.o.d who benefits most from her absence. We have to destroy the Tekhen of Set and I'm guessing it will be protected - inside the grounds of the Temple of Set, here in Alexandria."

Heron nodded in agreement, so Phoenix continued. "Then, since that's where Brynn will be, too, I guess our next destination is the Temple of Set. We should get some sleep now and take on the Priests of Set tomorrow, when we're fresh."

"I don't think you'll have time to sleep, my friends," Heron shook his head sadly.

"Why?" Jade turned anxious green eyes on him.

"I think your deadline is tonight. You mentioned the 'death of the moon'. Well, tonight is considered to be the first night of the dying moon - the last quarter is beginning," Heron looked at them straitly. "Just before dawn on this night, each month, every prisoner in the cells of the Temple is sacrificed to Set in the Rite of Burning. If you don't save Brynn, his soul will be condemned to the worst afterlife he believes in - forever."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

In one swift move, Phoenix stood up and pushed the remains of their scanty meal to one side. He s.n.a.t.c.hed up the maps of Alexandria that Heron had sent for and spread them out on the dining table.

"Heron's right. It's too much of a co-incidence that this night is sacred to the Set priests and Brynn is taken by them and I'm sure they've been working deliberately to stop us releasing Anuket. We've run out of time. It's tonight. Heron, show me where the Temple is," he demanded.

Heron pointed at a spot on the western edge of the harbour. "It's in the Rhakotis, the area of town where most of the Egyptian population live."