Issue 2: Wings of Destiny, Pt 2

When they had gone, a man in a black turban detached himself from the shadows and quietly left the club.

Cairo, Egypt
Shepards Hotel…

After seeing Speed’s injury dressed and reporting the assault to the dubious Egyptian police, Shiera retired, exhausted, to her own room, bolting the door securely behind her. It was well after midnight, and her nerves wanted steadying--- she attempted to light up a cigarette, but heard again the familiar voice of Carter Hall: You shouldn’t be smoking those. They’re not good for your voice. She sighed, and decided instead to wash the sand and sweat of the day away with a bath before bed.

As she disrobed, she noticed on the nightstand by her bed a vase of native flowers that had not been there when she left, obviously delivered by a bellhop. Thinking they were from Cave, and anxious to hear some news from the expedition, she was surprised and disappointed to read the card: Bellisima, diva! You are an ornament to outshine the stars and food for the gods! Will you consent to a private concert? I would die your humble servant. It was signed A.H.

She dropped the card in disgust. Hastor! She had noticed him in the front row of every performance of the opera, gazing hungrily up at her, as if he knew what she looked like naked and was imagining it. She had rebuffed his every attempt at contact, even to feigning illness. There was something about the man that made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

The flowers were pretty, though; dusken blooms of a deep lavender and a fragrance of myrrh. She admired them briefly, and then went in to her bath…

She emerged from the elevator into the lobby of the grand hotel and strode, shoeless, across the cool marble floor. Those still lingering, sleepily, over their drinks shook their heads in amazement to see the beautiful young woman walk calmly out into the night.

“Hath-Set.” She breathed, her eyes wide, her voice without inflection.

Cairo was not a safe place at night. There was not enough electricity to power streetlamps, and most establishments, other than the colonial hotels, closed early. Taxis were parked on the side of the street, but few were on the narrow roads. A rougher element owned the night. Evil-looking men, unwashed and corrupt in the soul watched as she wandered the twisting lanes of the old city, a woman alone, barefoot and barely dressed. But they left her unmolested. For even they could see she was under a spell, and another’s mark was upon her. For those with the eyes to see it, they marked it well, for few would defy this man, this sorcerer of the old religion, who had haunted Cairenes since the days of the pharaohs…

Even fewer would dare speak his name aloud.

“Hath-Set.” Shiera droned.

A clear path was made for her, beggars and cutpurses scurrying to get out of her way. Overhead, a gibbous moon shone as bright as bone, lighting her footsteps.

She wound her way though the twisting streets to the outskirts of town to a magnificent villa built in the days of the Caesars. At the gates, two dark-robed Sons of Anubis stood watch, and allowed her to pass. She noticed, with curious detachment, that a dung beetle crawled in and out of the flesh of one of them, and that maggots were busy devouring what was left of an eye cavity on the other.

That was when her will, stuffed deep down inside her, began to awake, and with a steadily rising panic, she began to realize what was going on. But her rebellious limbs carried her onward, resisting her commands.

Torches blazed in the wide courtyard, sending their inky smoke to the heavens. Two man, both bruised and bloodied, but groggily aware, were tied to columns by a covered arcade, one of whom Shiera registered as Cave. He called her name, but she barely heard it through the fog in her head. Something else had her attention. He waited for her there, a bald-pated man in ornate satin robes, embroidered in cloth of gold. He stood before a plain stone altar, idly toying with the loops of a bullwhip he gripped tightly in his hand. On either side of him were twin braziers burning the strange hypnotic incense that had summoned her here.

“Hastor…?” Shiera managed, through gritted teeth, even as she knelt on the paved stone at his feet.

The shining, triumphant face that hovered above her glowed in the moonlight.

“Shiera, my dear.” He crowed. “How nice of you to come.” He reached down and cupped her chin in his hand. She squirmed at his touch, sure that the revulsion showed on her face. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

Ruined Roman villa,
Outskirts of Cairo…

“Ah, you are as beautiful in this life as you were in the first.” Mused Hastor, as he pulled her to her feet. Shiera struggled to regain control of her will; bound and beaten, no help could come from Cave or the other man, whom she did not recognize, so she was at the mercy of this madman’s whims.

“You were to be my handmaiden, until that cursed prince stole you from me!” Hastor went on, his hand still on her chin, pushing her face from side to side, as if he was inspecting a potential purchase. “I will give you that choice again.” He decided, abruptly letting her go. He took a coil of the bullwhip he was holding and pulled it taut with a martinet’s air. “Consummate your true destiny with me, or continue to wallow in that ocean of death and blood with Khufu!”

The smell of the incense was doing strange things to Shiera’s head. Her own will was slowly beginning to reassert itself, but in her mind’s eye she was seeing a misty haze of images, triggered by the strange, mystical fragrance… Memories of a youth, frolicking by the Nile, prayers in a smoky temple, a hot desert sun glinting off the pyramids, an exhilarating sense of slipping the bonds of gravity and soaring over the world… and of a man--- a soul!--- as familiar to her as her own reflection.

She let out an involuntary gasp. “Kha-Taar…?”

Hastor seized her roughly by the upper arm, bruising her flesh, and cracked his bullwhip, hissing: “Choose, Chay-Ara! I will not give you this chance again!”

This triggered a series of more violent memories. Hastor’s own crazed, ecstatic eyes, a flash of a knife’s blade and gruesome spray of blood… Shiera’s hand went involuntarily to her throat, expecting to feel a gaping gash there…!

She looked up in horror at Hastor.

“You murdered me---.” She breathed. “I remember it now! The temple,… on the night before my wedding. Khufu had come, but he was too late! You had set a trap for us…!”

A snarl of frustration twisted Hastor’s features, and he violently shoved her backward. She stumbled and fell to the ground.

“Stupid girl! I have your answer then.” He raised the whip over her.

Behind them, Cave Carson struggled uselessly against his bonds, screaming his fiancée’s name.

Hastor’s whip swirled and snaked back---

Shiera’s screams echoed throughout the halls of the ruined villa. Hawkman followed the sound of them downward, passed the baths and below the wine cellars. And then they were abruptly cut off by the {clang} of a big metallic door being swung shut. He saw it up ahead as he rounded a corner, bolted into a wall.

Hastor had Shiera behind that door, and there was no telling what he would do to her!

Fueled by desperation, he cocked his fist back, and hurled a hammer blow at the door, the Claw of Horus sparking against the metal! The steel door was knocked inward off its hinges, falling to the floor with a resounding crash. He burst into the room, but was brought to a halt by the sight before him.

Hastor’s hidden lair was part dungeon, and part scientific laboratory. A black marble statue of the jackal god Anubis stood guard in one corner, next to tables of beakers and glass tubing in which boiled foul-smelling concoctions, and one whole wall was devoted to a bank of consoles of switches and flashing lights. The largest thing in the room was an odd contraption with hundreds of wires leading into it, comprised of twisting copper coils. A faint hum was coming from it, and the thick copper coils fairly pulsed with power.

Hastor was in the middle of the room, in front of the contraption, holding Shiera at his side, a pistol pointed at her temple. She looked terrified and furious at the same time.

“Another step and I’ll paint the walls with her brains.” Hastor glowered at Hawkman. He pulled the hammer back with his thumb.

Hawkman held up his empty hands.

“Give it up, Hastor. It’s over. Give her to me, and we’ll go our separate ways. We don’t have to be tied to this fate. Break the cycle! I will foreswear revenge, if you will!”

Hastor’s lip twisted and curled.

“Do you expect me to believe that, hawk-man, champion of justice?” He sneered. “What kind of fool do you take me for? The only way I can be free of you is to kill you! Besides, I am the aggrieved party here! You stole her from me!” He wailed, spittle flying from his mouth. “Your hubris brought ruin to Egypt, but they called you a hero and loved you! While I was scorned and looked upon with derision!” As quickly as he lost it, Hastor regained his calculating control. “But you are right about one thing, hawk-man: it is over! Do you see the device behind me?” He motioned with his eyes to the huge contraption with the thick copper coils. “I call it the Magna-tron. It is the fruit of years of scientific labor. It is a nearly limitless source of power--- but it lacks one last crucial element to sustain it.” His eyes went hungrily to the hawk-shaped amulets on Carter’s chest.

“Nth Metal…” Hawkman finished for him.

“Yes.” Snapped Hastor. “That strange alien material from Thanagar we are both so familiar with. It is my destiny to control it! So kindly remove those amulets and place them on the floor.”

When Hawkman hesitated, Hastor twisted the gun barrel against the side of Shiera’s head.

“Alright, damnit!” Hawkman cursed, pulling the chains from around his neck and letting them fall to the dusty floor.

Hastor’s eyes glowed in triumph.

“Now, kick them towards me.”

Hawkman, unmasked since Hastor’s initial attack with the incense brazier, let his eyes flick over to Shiera. She met his gaze evenly, and wordless communication, born of a bond that was older than recorded history, passed between them. She understood. And she was ready.
His shoulders slumped, as if in defeat, Hawkman kicked the amulets across the floor to Hastor. The madman bent quickly to retrieve them---.

And was met by Shiera’s elbow driving into his face!

His head was flung back by the blow, blood spraying from a broken nose, but he did not lose his grip on the gun. Shiera threw herself out of the way, even as Hastor recovered, aiming for her.

Hawkman had not been lax. He was too far away to reach them, so he did the only thing he could. In one fluid motion, he whipped the Nth Metal knife from out of his belt behind him, and hurled it across the room at Hastor!

The knife spun end over end and struck the wrist of the hand that held the gun, knocking it back as the shot went wide, pinning Hastor’s arm to a coil of the contraption behind him.

There was a sharp retort and a crackle of energy. Hastor screamed, pinned to his device and seized in an involuntary dance as electricity sparked through his body, singeing his body-hair and eyebrows. The Magna-tron sizzled and sparked, leading its creator in a macabre jig. Blue smoke steamed from Hastor, and the room was filled with the sound of his agonized screams and the smell of ozone.

Trails of electricity snaked across the consoles that lined one wall of the lair, and bits of it began exploding outward. Dozens of little fires were already raging across the room.

“Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!” Hawkman yelled to her as he pulled Shiera from the floor. As they rushed from the lair, Shiera scooped up the amulets from the floor.

Behind them came a long wailing shriek, and then, a moment later, an explosion. The ground shook, nearly upsetting them as they raced upwards. But the death-throes of the Magna-tron were not complete. A fire ball was raging up the corridor after them!

Hand in hand, Carter and Shiera ran, the amulet’s dangling from her clenched fist.
Up ahead was the opening, but the blossoming fireball was scorching them from behind.

“Hang on!” Carter yelled, gathering her close to her.

They burst from the corridor and out into the open, rocketing into the air, Carter’s wing’s unfolding to give them loft, flames licking at their heels and singeing his pinfeathers! They spiraled up into the sky of the Egyptian dawn, the Nth Metal amulets clutched between them, their faces close, even as the crumbling villa faded into the distance below them.

They spoke each other’s names at the same time, and before either could think about it, were engaged in a desperate, passionate kiss. On the horizon behind them, the sun was rising. Framed by the disc of Ra, the lovers held each other for a long time, their cheeks wet with commingling tears, surrendering, if only for the moment, to their joy at being alive and in each other’s arms.

The H.M.S. Prince Albert,
Port of Alexandria, Egypt,
Two weeks later…

The brim of his hat shaded most of the sun from his eyes, but Carter Hall still had to squint at the figures coming up the gangplank towards him. She was radiant, in a yellow sundress and a wide brimmed hat of her own, and Speed was at her side, carrying their luggage. Carter’s breath caught in his throat, as it never failed to do when he caught sight of her. And he had looked upon her very little since that night at the villa outside of Cairo, two weeks ago. He did not care to be reminded of what he could not have.

“Ms. Saunders!” He met them at the top of the gangplank, just as a horn blew, signaling the imminent departure of the ship. “What are you doing here? Where’s Cave?”

She was able to smile when she saw him, but he could tell she was troubled. He took her by the hand, guiding them through the press of people waving goodbye to their friends and families still on the dock, and led them to the less crowded other side of the deck. Speed excused himself, and went to go find their cabin. Carter and Shiera stood by the rail and faced each other uncertainly.

She was the first to break the silence.

“I visited the dig at Wadi Erdu last week. It is quite a find. Professor Rock is the center of attention, but I think he wanted to share the limelight with you.” She smiled faintly.

Carter shook his head. “Nonsense. Jim deserves the credit on this one.” He said firmly. “Besides, I know everything I need to know about Khufu…” He trailed off uncomfortably. “I mean, this whole experience---.”

“It’s all right, Carter. I know what you mean.” She wore a perplexed expression, her nose crinkling. “One day I’m Shiera Saunders, aspiring singer, and the next I’m… someone else, as well.” She finished, shaking her head. “I still am who I always was, but now I have all these other memories, too. I’m just as much Chay-Ara, as Shiera, and that’s…”

“Confusing?” Carter suggested, sympathetically; he was having the same feelings.

“Complicated, I was about to say.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Because, whether I call myself Chay-Ara or Shiera, I’m still the same person, and part of that person is, well, here.” She boldly put her small hand on his chest, over his heart, which he felt skip a beat. She looked up at him with liquidy eyes and went on bravely. “I think I knew it from that first night at the hotel ballroom. I felt like I had found something I never knew I had been looking for all my life.”

Carter clasped the tiny hand to his breast, for too brief a moment, then gently lowered it to her side.

“I know. I felt the same way. But Shiera, we can’t. Cave---.”

“Cave left me.” She interjected, with some difficulty. “Last week. He’s no fool, Carter. He didn’t understand most of what he heard that night at the villa, but he heard and saw enough. He said he couldn’t stand between us, but he couldn’t stand by us, either. He went back to Ethiopia.”

“Oh.” Carter blinked, shamed by- and in awe of- the nobility of his oldest friend. He hung his head in respect, but could not resist the surge of hope swelling within him. “What will you do?”

Shiera swallowed, gazing at him steadily. “Cyril and I are going to England. We have family there. We’re going to stay with them for a little while before returning to America.” She was suddenly overcome by a fit of shyness, and looked away, her cheeks reddening. In a quieter voice she added: “I was hoping that you, that is if you have no other pressing business, might be interested in a holiday as well…?”

She dared a sidelong glance up at him. He wore a stunned expression, but recovered quickly, clearing his throat.

“Yes, actually, I think a vacation is in order.” He admitted, as relief washed over Shiera’s face.

She sidled closer to him, and he put a tentative arm around her shoulders. The ship’s horn blew again, and the H.M.S. Prince Albert began moving ponderously away from dock.

“And what about that other fellow?” Shiera wondered mischievously. “The one the papers are calling the Hawkman? Is he on vacation, too?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Carter adjusted his hat, and blew out a thoughtful breath. “I imagine we’ll see him again before too long. After all, who is Carter Hall to defy a proud and ancient tradition?”

The two of them settled into a companionable silence and watched as the shores of Egypt faded into the distance.