Fire by Night

By Ellenore Meadows

Forbidden friends since childhood, Tafne is a rich Egyptian noble and Eve is a Hebrew slave. When Eve is compelled to run away from slavery, Tafne offers her the perfect escapea new identity as an Egyptian. For three years their plan succeeds, but when the infamous traitor Moses unexpectedly returns in the name of Yahweh, the ancient God of Israel, their careful charade becomes gravely threatened.

As Moses demands freedom for the Israelite people, Pharaoh continually denies them, setting off a series of inexplicable disasters that ravage Egypt and humiliate its gods. As Tafne is drawn to this foreign God and His promises, Eve remains desperate to avoid the Hebrew people at all costs. The two are soon faced not only with a life apart from each other, but a world in which even the darkest secrets are brought to light.

From beginning to end, Fire by Night illustrates Gods unmovable sovereignty, his fierce jealousy over our hearts, and his longing to redeem and cleanse to the uttermost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jan 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490865058

Ellenore Meadows

Ellenore Meadows has a passion to illustrate the character of God and the truth of His Word through fiction. In addition to her research and writing, Ellenore has enjoyed serving in both middle school and high school ministries. She and her husband currently live in Monterey, California.

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Copyright © 2015 Ellenore Meadows.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-6504-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-6506-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-6505-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900474

WestBow Press rev. date: 01/15/2015

Contents

Chapter 1 Three years later Tafne

Chapter 2 Kiya

Chapter 3 Tafne

Chapter 4 Kiya

Chapter 5 Tafne

Chapter 6 Kiya

Chapter 7 Tafne

Chapter 8 Tafne

Chapter 9 Kiya

Chapter 10 Kiya

Chapter 11 Tafne

Chapter 12 Tafne

Chapter 13 Kiya

Chapter 14 Kiya

Chapter 15 Tafne

Chapter 16 Kiya

Chapter 17 Tafne

Chapter 18 Kiya

Chapter 19 Kiya

Chapter 20 Tafne

Chapter 21 Kiya

Chapter 22 Tafne

Chapter 23 Eve

Chapter 24 Tafne

Prologue

Eve

T he earth spat up at me, gritty and wet, as my feet pushed and pounded against the road. A horse-drawn cart rumbled toward me out of the haze, and I kept my eyes to the ground, racing onward with no light to guide me. No one was chasing me—not yet. But I imagined their footsteps in every snarl of the wind, closing in on me, their breath hot with hatred, furious that they had been sent out into a storm for a worthless slave girl.

I ran faster.

I was chilled to the bones by the cold, but this rare and stormy weather was a gift from the gods. The gusting wind and prickling rain were my cloak, ensuring me an unhindered passage out of Goshen and into the city of Zoan. If I could make it there, I just might have a chance.

I slowed at last upon reaching the fields that marked the outskirts of Zoan. I clutched my heaving chest, my belly burning and head throbbing. In the dark weather, the towering city walls seemed to join with the sky itself, the line between stone and storm imperceptible. Torches flanked the city gate, sputtering in the rain.

I have an urgent message, I lied to the gatekeeper. It is a matter of family death, and you must let me through.

From where do you come? he croaked.

Memphis. I had never been to Memphis, but it was the first city I could think of where no Hebrews dwelled.

Funny dress you’re wearing for a messenger. Where is your horse?

Stuck in the mud. Please, sir. I bowed. The message is urgent. There is a great inheritance in question.

He consented gruffly, and the gates were opened.

The city was a blur as I stumbled along its back roads, following the Nile past the common squares and marketplace and temples and army barracks. When the silhouette of Pharaoh’s palace emerged up ahead, I kept my eyes down, careful not to trip on my numb feet. Beyond it, the noblemen’s villas sprawled across the land, each large enough to be a village of its own. When I found the right estate, I collapsed against its outer walls, soaked through and freezing. I crawled over the grass and curled up behind a large rock, peeling my hair from my face. The Nile rushed ominously several paces away, and I fell into sleep as quickly as the passing current.

I was awakened by a pinch in the rear. I yelped and whipped around, finding an ibis tottering back to its friends. I threw a pebble at it and slumped back against the rock, watching the long-beaked birds peck at the ground. The rain had ceased, and the night had faded into a gray, moist morning. Thrill and terror began to set in again—the night had passed and I had not been caught. I waited, hope and fear at war within me, until at last I saw Tafne coming toward the riverbank. I watched, praying she was alone. She was.

Tafne, I hissed.

She gasped. Eve! She rushed to my side, glancing twice behind her. You are drenched! What—what are you doing here?

I’ve run away, I whispered, the words splintering my throat. I had no choice. Khai was going to take me.

What? Her eyes searched me. You said that would never happen! You said that your father would be able to protect you, because he is an officer.

I shook my head heavily. I was wrong. We are still only slaves, after all. Khai is the chief taskmaster over my entire city. And when the order came to our door … The shock and grief upon my father’s face was too painful to recount. There was nothing to be done.

Her thin and delicate face was still fresh from sleep, and her dark hair curled around her cheeks in tangled spirals. Her eyes, the color of charred cedar, shone with horror. He … he was really going to purchase you?

And worse. But I made it here, Tafne! And we can still escape before it’s too late.

Her eyes flew open in alarm. We?

You must come with me, I said, trying to keep the statement from sounding so absurd. We can go anywhere. We can sail to the end of the Nile like we have dreamed. Or we can explore the lands of the east. I don’t care, but we must not waste time!

I— she stuttered, I can’t, Eve …

But you can! And you want to; I know you do. You’ve always said that nobility is a prison of its own. And—and perhaps we can even find a cure for your illness, somewhere out there! I pointed to the horizon.

She knelt down, biting at her fingernail nervously. Her breathing was shallow and raspy. She looked sullenly down at the dampened earth. I can’t go, she said. I would never make it.

I whimpered and buried my face against the rock, hoping desperately for some solution to reveal itself. Everything seemed loud—the unceasing Nile, the birds chirping and wind in the palms, the distant chatter of people beginning their day. I could not leave without Tafne if I had any true chance of escape. She had money, of course, and clothes and food and maps. But it was more than this. She was my dearest friend, more of a sister to me than my actual one, and I could not face a life without her—slave or free.

But neither could I go on as a Hebrew slave any longer, and of this I was absolutely certain.

I lifted my head from the rock. I think I have an idea, I whispered.

Tafne stared at me, terrified. What?

But it is dangerous, I said seriously. "No one must know. No one but us. And it will not be easy."

What? Tell me. She clutched her hands together, pulling them tight against her heart.

I must become Egyptian.

CHAPTER 1

Three years later

Tafne

T wice already that evening, Kiya had urged me to stay home.

I stood before the long copper mirror in our bedchamber, adjusting the jeweled belt at my waist and admiring the clean blue gleam of its lapis stones. My scalp itched beneath my wig, a cumbersome arrangement of long, beaded locks, but my mother would endure none of my complaints. To go bareheaded to the palace was just too primitive for words, as she put it, and no daughter of hers would dare such a thing.

Seker will be there, I said, gently pulling at the material around my hips, trying to mask my bony frame without wrinkling the fine white linen.

But you are unwell, said Kiya. She pushed in front of me and held up a dense little powder brush. She carefully dusted gold powder over my brow, then dabbed at the dark half-moons that had formed beneath my eyes.

I can’t keep inside my entire life, I said. I will be fine. I am fine. I coughed, and Kiya nearly jabbed my eye with her brush.

She gave me a look. At least drink your tea then, would you?

I glanced at the cup on my bedside table, still full of my medicinal tea. It was brewed especially for me, to aid with my breathing, but was too bitter for words. I usually poured it over the balcony when no one was around, but no such opportunity had come today. There’s a bug in it.

She didn’t answer, and I let her finish the powder before slipping into my sandals, which were rimmed with dainty lapis lazuli and smoothed turquoise stones that I had set myself. They matched my belt, ear pendants, and the heavy pectoral against my chest, and together they comprised the most cherished set of pieces I had ever crafted.

Kiya nudged me over so that she could see into the mirror. Even with my stunning jewels, I was a plain and ordinary sight beside her. She stood taller than me and had flawless, glowing skin, and though I had reached my seventeenth birthday three months before she had, her body was mature and full while mine remained frail and childish. Her fingernails were perfect ovals, while mine were left chipped and stubby by my nervous habit. The strong features of her face—the sharp cheekbones, high brows, pointed chin, and scarlet lips—made her impossible to overlook. Her eyes were dark and deep-set, and she carried herself with such confidence that strangers seldom suspected she was my apprentice.

I often forgot that she had not always been Egyptian.

Time to go, my ladies, said my servant Cabar, coming in from the hall. She prodded us until we left the mirror, and I followed Kiya out of the chamber and down the two long staircases to the villa foyer. She gave me a sideways glance as we descended, and I sensed she was praying to the gods for my health. But as the front door came into view, I heard her breath catch as she saw him.

My brother, Riaz, stood leaning against the open doorway, his square-cut wig just brushing his shoulders. I frowned, disappointed that the pectoral laid against his chest was not the onyx one I had crafted for his birthday the month before. But his eyes were too busy with Kiya to notice my disapproval, and a moment later Mother and Father were at the staircase behind us. My mother descended elegantly in her pristine white gown, her eyes dramatically lined with kohl. She was arrayed, as always, in glorious jewels of her own making. But from her ears, I saw with delight, hung a pair of amethyst ear pendants that I had crafted only the week before.

You’re beautiful, Mother, Riaz said. The two of them shared the same strong bridge of the nose and clear amber eyes. Her one resemblance to me, the Anubis-black hue of her hair, was concealed now beneath her wig.

The gifts, said my father, his left brow cocked in impatience. Two servants appeared and bowed, one with a small golden chest, the other with an ornately carved box of acacia wood. My parents each took one and, wasting no more time, led us out of the villa.

The evening was warm and dry as we strode down the wide road through the noble district, ignoring the occasional beggar along the way, until finally reaching the tall outer gate to Pharaoh’s palace. I eyed the marble sphinxes on either side of the pathway, their faces peering at us emptily. The light of dusk glowed against the towering palace walls, making the giant fortress blush pink and gold.

Two rows of uniformed soldiers lined the open entry, bowing as we passed into the inner court. Women in beaded dresses greeted us, laying delicate lotus wreaths around our necks. The great hall was already filled with guests, illuminated by the light of a thousand golden lamps. The air was dense with exotic spices and cooking meats and floral perfumes, all of which threatened to take my breath from me again. My throat already clogging with phlegm, I glanced at the narrow windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. Their sheer blue-and-white curtains fluttered in the evening breeze, teasing me with the relief of fresher air beyond.

Tables and couches and plush rugs outlined the hall, and I watched Kiya scan them for people she knew. She lifted her chin when we drew nearer to the golden dais at the head of the hall where the royal family was seated. Pharaoh sat upon his throne, the golden cobra atop his crown reared up in dignity. Among his array of glittering jewelry, I couldn’t help checking for a piece that I had made; I’d heard that the royal family possessed some of my work, but I had yet to witness it myself.

To my dismay, my father sat us at a table near the center of the hall, where no passing breeze could possibly reach. My breath was sharp and rough now, but the hall was noisy enough with music and greeting that I drew no attention to myself.

The king rose from his throne. His black eyes glinted like polished onyx as they swept the hall, his skin glowing with layers of powdered gold.

Welcome, my noble men and women of Egypt! His voice rang deeply, echoing through the hall so that all chatter quickly fizzled into silence. Tonight, we celebrate the marriage of my most beloved cousin. He raised his jeweled goblet to the couple beside him, seated at their own small table on the dais. Let us eat and drink with them in celebration, and may the gods remember them for all eternity. To Egypt!

To Egypt, Riaz said, raising his goblet toward Pharaoh. Kiya copied him, but I turned my attention to the plump, steaming duck laying in a bed of herbs on the table.

After finishing her first plate, Kiya put her mouth to my ear. I brought your powdered garlic. Take it, she said, her voice a dim burble against the noise.

It’ll spoil my wine, I said through a mouthful of roasted goose.

Servants passed with fresh platters, and we refilled our plates with onions and lettuce, herbed lentils, candied nuts and dried fruits, juicy beef cutlets and olives, spicy chickpeas, and a dozen various breads, cakes, and flaking biscuits. Music flooded the hall, and women with heavy lashes and oiled skin danced fluidly together in shimmering costumes, while pairs of bald, dark-skinned acrobats twirled and flipped lithely around each other. The air grew denser.

Finally, Kiya said with a chuckle, the moment my last bite of cake passed my lips. She took my arm and pulled me to my feet.

I gasped, sending a sharp pain through my chest. Just a few paces away stood Seker, the handsome classmate of my brother’s who was rumored to be his steepest competition in scribal school. At the celebration of the New Year earlier that month, Seker had offered to fill my empty cup with wine, which was a remarkable gesture considering I was the sister of his rival. Kiya and I had concluded that it could only indicate his interest in me.

Kiya waved him over. He grinned and cut out of his conversation with an elderly man. My stomach fluttered as he approached us with a long, even stride.

Lovely evening, he said, bowing slightly. His teeth shone brightly against his skin, which was darker than ours, having been raised south in Thebes. How is your apprenticeship, Kiya? His eyes drifted up and down her. My heart fell.

Tafne is an astounding teacher, she said. Before he could reply, she gently touched his arm and said, Excuse me, but I’ve just remembered something, and I’ve got to find Riaz. I’ll be seeing you. She turned and left, quickly but gracefully, leaving me alone.

You must be eager to graduate scribal school at last, I said, painfully aware of the ill rasp that had made its way up to my voice.

Indeed I am, he said, his eyes on somebody behind me.

Do you plan to return to Thebes, or— I coughed, quickly covering my mouth and wiping drippy snot from my nose. Or do you wish to remain in Zoan?

Before he could respond, a group of men stormed in through the open entry, halting our conversation. They pushed through the crowd, marching straight up to the foot of Pharaoh’s throne upon the golden dais. Their sashes and wooden rods indicated that they were taskmasters, men who managed slaves. As they bowed before Pharaoh, I counted ten of them.

What is this, men? Pharaoh said flatly. His chin twitched.

Your Highness, our king, one of the taskmasters said, we regret our disturbance but were compelled to inform you of a situation that has arisen in your neighboring region of Goshen. He lowered his head another inch. A traitor of the throne has returned.

There were sharp gasps in the crowd. Even the musicians had slowed their tunes to be able to catch what was said. I scanned the heads for Kiya, but she was lost in the crowd.

He has been seen performing dark magic for the slaves of Goshen, the taskmaster continued. He is rallying them together as we speak, and they plan to demand that Your Highness allow them to leave.

Pharaoh’s tight shoulders fell, and he laughed. Leave?

To embark on a journey into the wilderness, so that they can worship—he paused—their foreign God.

Well, they will not get it, will they? Pharaoh said, and the court chuckled nervously. Then his black eyes bore down on the men. Who among you decided it was wise to bring this to me now, during the feast of my cousin’s wedding?

The taskmasters did not move.

Dawn arrives in a few short hours, the leading taskmaster said, boldly evading Pharaoh’s question. With the level of magic this traitor seems to possess, we were compelled to warn the king of his arrival.

Pharaoh’s eyes narrowed. Who is this traitor? What is his name?

The taskmaster bowed his head lower still. His name is Moses.

The crowd drew in a breath, looking nervously from each other, to the taskmasters, to the king and queen on their thrones. But Pharaoh bore no emotion upon his golden face and. If I’m not mistaken, he said tersely, "the slaves of Goshen are your duty. Are you here to tell me that brickmakers and goat herders have risen above your control?"

The taskmasters, wisely, gave no reply.

I will not insult my cousin by rendering your punishment in the middle of his wedding feast, said Pharaoh. He signaled the guards lining the hall with a raise of his finger, and a dozen of them came forward, swiftly surrounding the taskmasters and pushing them out from the palace. Then, with a wave of his hand and a hearty laugh, Pharaoh moved the crowd back into celebration. The music tripled in strength and the acrobats giggled and twirled, while women with beaded hair and silver sandals rushed forward with fresh goblets of wine.

And then, at last, it happened. My throat clenched shut and my breath was stopped. I fell onto the ground, my lungs like stones in my chest. My goblet clattered against the marble, its wine seeping fast into my dress. I could hear shrieks around me, see blurs of feet leaping away from me as if I were a scorpion. I clutched my chest, my eyes burning with pain and shame.

Then Kiya was at my side. She tried to pull me to my feet, but I fell back against a pillar, the jolt threatening to burst my lungs for good. She stooped down, and though I wanted to help myself and longed for escape, my strength was gone, and I could only wobble feebly alongside her as she reached around my waist and pulled me up again.

We made it outside to a nearby courtyard, sitting down at the edge of a fountain. A couple nearby heard my wheezing and jumped up like fleas from a poisoned calf. Kiya went through the usual ritual—whispering that it would be all right, telling me to breathe slowly, making sure I kept my chin up and back straight. Nothing sparked fear in Kiya’s eyes like these episodes of mine. She never said so, but I knew she was terrified that each one might be the end of me.

Eventually, the clear night air soothed me, and the pain in my neck and chest eased to a dull ache. I could say nothing to Kiya, whose devotion to me never failed, though others fled from the foulness in my lungs. Though I had clearly been cursed by the gods, she would not be driven away.

I wonder what all that was about, Kiya said after a long while, her voice low.

Oh, yes, I said. Have you ever heard of that man they spoke of? What was his name?

Moses, she whispered.

Do you know of him? Surely the taskmasters would not have come all the way from Goshen in the night over just anyone.

Kiya was quiet. I could only guess what was going through her mind. Neither of us had heard anything of the Hebrew people in a very long time, let alone been in the same room as their taskmasters.

"I’m sure it will

Reviews for Fire by Night

[Mandy Sommer · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Loved it! A great story. The author should continue with the Exodus and characters!