Chapter 11: The Rescue
The night was heavy with tension as Amara and Aharon stood on a ridge overlooking Montross’s encampment. The air was still, save for the distant sounds of men talking and the crackle of campfires below. Somewhere within that camp, Nelson was being held captive. Amara’s heart ached at the thought of what her brother might be enduring, and she felt a renewed surge of determination to bring him back safely.
Aharon, sensing her turmoil, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“We’ll get him out, Amara. I promise.”
Amara nodded, her eyes narrowing with resolve.
“I know. But we need to move quickly. The longer we wait, the more danger he’s in.”
They had spent the day observing Montross’s camp from a distance, mapping out the guards’ patrol patterns and identifying potential weak points. Aharon had crafted a plan, one that would require stealth, precision, and when the time came a swift and lethal application of force.
“The guard shift happens every two hours,” Aharon whispered, his voice low but steady. “The next one is in ten minutes. That’s our window. We’ll slip past the perimeter, head straight for the tent where Nelson is being held, and get him out before anyone realizes what’s happening.”
Amara tightened her grip on the hilt of her dagger.
“And what about Montross?”
Aharon’s expression hardened.
“He’s mine.”
With a final nod to each other, they descended the ridge, moving like shadows across the desert sands. The moon provided just enough light to guide their way without illuminating them to the guards below. As they reached the edge of the camp, they crouched low behind a cluster of boulders, waiting for the shift change to occur.
Amara’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched the guards switch positions, their movements slow and unhurried.
“Now,” Aharon whispered.
They slipped through the perimeter, staying low to the ground and moving swiftly between tents. The camp was alive with the sounds of men talking, laughing, and playing cards, but none of them noticed the two figures gliding through the shadows.
Finally, they reached the tent where Nelson was being held. Two guards stood outside, their spears resting lazily against their shoulders. Aharon signaled to Amara to take the one on the left. They moved simultaneously, springing from the darkness like predators. Amara’s dagger found its mark in the guard’s throat, while Aharon silenced the other with a swift, deadly strike to the heart. Both men crumpled to the ground without a sound.
Aharon quickly moved to the tent’s entrance, slicing through the fabric with his blade. They slipped inside to find Nelson tied to a post, his face bruised and bloodied. His eyes widened with relief when he saw them.
“Amara!” Nelson croaked, his voice hoarse. “You found me!”
Amara rushed to his side, cutting through the ropes that bound him.
“We’re getting you out of here, Nelson. Can you walk?”
Nelson nodded, though his movements were stiff with pain.
“I think so. But Montross... he’s got the Golden Bastet.”
“We’ll deal with Montross,” Aharon said, helping Nelson to his feet. “Right now, we need to get you to safety.”
Just as they were about to leave, the flap of the tent was thrown open, and Montross stepped inside, flanked by two of his men. The ruthless treasure hunter grinned, his eyes gleaming with malice.
“Well, well,” Montross sneered. “Looks like the little family reunion is over.”
Amara drew her dagger, her heart racing. “We’re taking Nelson, Montross. And we’re taking back the Golden Bastet.”
Montross laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the tent. “Oh, I don’t think so. You see, I have other plans for you. And your little brother.”
Aharon stepped forward, his sword ready. “Let him go, Montross. You’re outnumbered.”
Montross’s grin widened. “Am I?”
Before Amara could react, Montross snapped his fingers, and more of his men appeared at the entrance, weapons drawn. Aharon tensed, realizing they were surrounded. But there was no hesitation in his voice when he spoke.
“Amara, take Nelson and run. I’ll hold them off.”
Amara shook her head, her grip on her dagger tightening. “I’m not leaving you, Aharon. We fight together.”
Aharon’s gaze softened, but he knew they were in a precarious situation. “There’s no time to argue. Go!”
But Amara was already moving, her instincts taking over. She lunged at the nearest guard, her dagger slicing through the air with deadly precision. Aharon followed suit, engaging another opponent in a fierce clash of steel. The tent erupted into chaos as they fought their way through Montross’s men.
Nelson, though weakened, grabbed a fallen spear and used it to defend himself as best he could. “Amara, watch out!” he shouted, as a guard charged at her from behind.
Amara spun just in time, ducking beneath the guard’s swing and driving her dagger into his side. The man fell with a grunt, and Amara turned to see Montross watching them with cold amusement.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Montross said, drawing a pistol from his belt. “But persistence won’t save you.”
Before Montross could fire, Aharon charged at him, his sword aimed for Montross’s heart. Montross dodged to the side, firing a shot that grazed Aharon’s shoulder. Aharon winced in pain but didn’t slow down. He swung his sword again, forcing Montross to retreat.
Amara knew they needed to end this quickly. She scanned the room, looking for an opening, when she saw the glint of the Golden Bastet in Montross’s pack. It was now or never.
“Aharon, keep him busy!” Amara shouted as she dashed toward the pack.
Aharon redoubled his efforts, his strikes coming faster and harder as he drove Montross back toward the tent’s exit. Montross snarled, his pistol firing wildly as he tried to fend off Aharon’s relentless assault.
Amara reached the pack and grabbed the Golden Bastet, its weight solid and reassuring in her hands. But just as she turned to rejoin the fight, Montross broke free from Aharon and lunged at her, his eyes wild with rage.
“Give that back, you little thief!” Montross roared, his hands reaching for the statue.
Amara barely had time to react before Montross was upon her. They struggled for control of the Golden Bastet, but Montross was stronger, fueled by desperation and greed. He wrenched the statue from her grip and slammed her to the ground.
“No!” Amara cried out, but Montross was already making his escape, the Golden Bastet clutched tightly to his chest.
Aharon ran to her side, helping her to her feet. “Amara, are you alright?”
Amara nodded, though her body ached from the fall. “I’m fine. But we can’t let him get away with the Bastet.”
Aharon’s jaw tightened. “We won’t. But right now, we need to get Nelson out of here.”
Nelson limped over to them, his face pale but determined. “I’m not leaving without you.”
Amara squeezed his hand. “We’re all getting out of here together.”
They hurried out of the tent, weaving through the camp as the sounds of Montross’s men closing in grew louder. Aharon led them through a narrow alley between the tents, where they found a pair of horses tied to a post. Without hesitation, they mounted the horses and rode off into the night, the camp quickly fading into the distance.
As they galloped across the desert sands, the reality of what had just happened sank in. They had rescued Nelson, but Montross still had the Golden Bastet. The stakes had never been higher, and they knew they would have to face Montross again if they were to recover the statue and stop Apophis.
Aharon slowed his horse as they approached a rocky outcrop, the first signs of dawn beginning to color the sky. He dismounted and helped Amara and Nelson down from their horses.
“We’ll rest here for a moment,” he said, his voice calm despite the tension that lingered between them.
Amara took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.
“We were so close,” she muttered, frustration gnawing at her. “We had the Bastet, but I couldn’t hold onto it.”
Aharon placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch reassuring.
“This isn’t over, Amara. Montross may have escaped, but we’ll find him again. And next time, we’ll be ready.”
Nelson looked at his sister, his expression filled with gratitude and concern.
“Thank you for coming for me, Amara. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”
Amara hugged her brother tightly, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“I’ll always come for you, Nelson. No matter what.”
As the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, Amara, Aharon, and Nelson knew that their journey was far from over. They had won a small victory by rescuing Nelson, but the true battle still lay ahead. Montross had the Golden Bastet, and Apophis’s power was growing with every passing day.