The Scepter

by Tom Hunter

  “So what are you waiting for then?” yelled Waleed. “Get us to Ad-Damir!”

  “Here goes nothing.” Josh yanked the steering wheel round, doing a 180 turn to head straight towards the Bruard’s jeep. He waited until he could see the white of the driver’s eyes. With the threat of Gord’s wrath urging him on, there was no way the driver was going to give way first, but that was fine by Josh.

  Suddenly, Josh veered to the right. The driver, unprepared for his manoeuvre, carried straight on, straight into the rear of a truck. The heroes laughed as they watched Gord yelling and screaming at the driver, who was frantically trying to reverse away from the truck, but to no avail. The vehicles were well and truly jammed together.

  “Ad-Damir it is!” beamed Samuel, as Josh left the Bruard in a cloud of his dust.

  Forty

  Josh drove through the sandy streets of Ad-Damir, taking care not to draw attention to himself by going over the speed limit. He kept a nervous eye on his rear view mirror, watching out for any signs of pursuit. White buildings with orange roofs jostled for space, creating the effect of a city that was crowded and sprawling.

  Seeing a covered marketplace up ahead, he pulled into a space nearby, just as the car engine finally gave out with an impressive bang. Steam billowed out from underneath the hood. A strong odor of burning hoses hung in the air. They tumbled out of the car, quickly gathering up the most important supplies.

  “Can someone help me carry this chest?” asked Waleed, tugging at one that was filled with coins. “It’s too heavy to manage by myself.”

  “Leave it,” advised Basile. “It’s too heavy for us to take. It’s not as though you can spend any gold if you’re dead.”

  “I can’t leave this behind,” protested Waleed. “There’s more money here than I’ve ever managed to earn on a single con.” Glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, he pried open the crate and started grabbing handfuls of coins, attempting to carry as much as possible. When he was done, he draped a blanket over the crate, hoping that he’d be able to come back for it sometime in the future.

  “Hurry it up, Waleed,” hissed Basile, jogging from one foot to the other in his impatience to leave. “We can’t afford to waste any time.”

  Grabbing one final handful, Waleed slammed the door shut and hurried after the others going into the market.

  Samuel carried his backpack in front of him, unwilling to let it out of his grasp. Keeping the scepter pieces close at hand gave him a modicum of comfort. At least he knew that they were still in his possession, whatever else might happen. As he hurried past a stallholder, the man shrieked, clutching at his head. A moment later, Samuel bumped into a woman, who looked at him with a puzzled expression.

  “Haven’t I seen you before?” she asked.

  “No, sorry,” said Samuel, putting a hand up to disguise his face as he turned left to go deeper into the market.

  “The scepter seems to be playing havoc with the locals’ minds,” observed Akhenaton, as people reacted to Samuel’s passing wherever he went. “It’s not exactly great for keeping a low profile. Can’t you switch it off?”

  “How?” asked Samuel, exasperated. “I have no idea how this thing works. Your guess is as good as mine. Probably better.”

  “We know it’s connected to emotion,” Akhenaton pointed out. “Can’t you try calming down? That might help.”

  “Calm down when we’ve got some of the most ruthless members of the Bruard on our tail? Yeah, right. I’ll get straight onto that.” Samuel shook his head as a tourist with a camera hanging round his neck gasped and paled, pointing a shaking finger at the group.

  “You!” He moaned. “It’s all because of you!”

  “What is?” snapped Waleed.

  “Ignore him,” ordered Samuel. “And keep moving. We’re supposed to be finding somewhere to hide, remember?”

  “I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” murmured Shafira, as they dodged past more disturbed townsfolk, gaping at the team as if they were some strange apparition.

  “Hey! You stole from me! Stop, thief! Police! Help! Police!”

  A fat market trader hurried to his feet, pushing his way out from behind his stall to come after them.

  “Waleed..?” growled Josh.

  “I did nothing, I promise,” protested Waleed.

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s calling the cops. RUN!”

  Samuel burst into a sprint, desperately looking for somewhere to hide. His panic amplified the scepter’s effect even more, causing a ripple of anxiety and fright to resound through the market, with raised voices and screams.

  “This way.” Waleed’s self-preservation instincts kicked in and he took the lead, taking the group down a tiny little alley that the others had overlooked. They cowered behind some garbage bags, as the market trader and a policeman ran past, still looking for the group.

  “I didn’t steal anything, I promise,” Waleed told the others.

  “But you would have had a hard time explaining all those gold coins if you were searched,” Basile pointed out. “There’d have been some difficult questions none of us really want to answer.”

  “Well, we’re safe for now,” panted Samuel, still trying to get his breath back. “But we can’t stay here for long. Anyone got any suggestions for how we get out of here?”

  “The roads are out,” replied Josh. “The Bruard aren’t stupid. They’ll know that we’ll have come straight here. As the nearest city to where they confronted us last, it’s the most logical choice. By now, every road out of here is likely being watched.”

  “So we’re stuck, while Samuel’s causing riots left, right, and center,” huffed Waleed, throwing his hands up in disgust. “That’s just great.”

  “Not necessarily.” They turned to look at Akhenaton who’d just spoken. “We’re right on the Nile, right?”

  “Ye-es,” nodded Samuel, starting to see where he was going.

  “So why don’t we take a boat up the river?” Akhenaton suggested. “If we hurry, we can leave before the Bruard realizes what we’ve done. Hopefully, that’s not the first thing they think of.”

  “That’s a great idea!” beamed Basile. “I’ve always wanted to go on a tour of the Nile. It’s just a shame that it’s not under better circumstances. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to kick back and relax for once?”

  “The river it is, then,” agreed Samuel. “Do you think we can risk going back through the market to get to the docks?”

  Shafira risked sidling up to the end of the alley and peering round the corner. She immediately pulled her head back.

  “Uh-oh.” She shook her head. “I could be wrong, but there’s a couple of guys out there that look like they could be Bruard. They’re going from stall to stall, checking out corners and side streets. I think they’re onto us.”

  “Then we’d better hope that this alley leads somewhere useful,” said Samuel, starting to walk away from the market. “The sooner we get to the docks, the better.”

  “I just pray that there’s a boat heading up north to Atbara leaving soon,” remarked Akhenaton to himself, remaining at the market end of the alley to guard until all the others were safely away. “Something tells me we won’t be able to avoid the Bruard if we stay here for long.”

  Forty-One

  The bodies of two unfortunate tourists lay by the entrance to the cultural center in Meroe, having had the bad luck to decide that they needed a map of the ancient city just as the Bruard were finishing up their business.

  Inside the center, Knights lay strewn across the first floor, their blood staining the trinkets and gifts for sale in the store. Ayesha was slumped across the foot of the stairs, her mouth twisted into a rictus grin that bore none of the warmth of her former smile.

  The Knights had all given their lives to buy Samuel and his friends some time. A handful of Bruard men lay among the fallen, having been run through with the Knights’ swords. However, their sacrifice had been in vain. The entire cell
of Knights had been wiped out.

  Upstairs, Pin’s soldiers were rifling through the Order’s private rooms. There were crashes as tables were flung across the room and drawers emptied out with no care for the contents.

  Pin was in Abdul’s office, rifling through the documents lying on his desk.

  “Nothing… nothing… nothing…” he muttered to himself as he hunted for any information that might help him in his quest to find the rest of the relics the hat required. “Where have you hidden it, old man?”

  He stood up and looked around the room, wondering where the High Marshal might have concealed the deepest secrets. He started looking behind all the paintings and quotes on the walls, throwing them over his shoulder as he looked for a wall safe, but still he found nothing. “Curse you!” He slammed his fist on Abdul’s desk. With a click, a hidden drawer slid out from underneath the central section. There was a lid over the top, concealing its contents.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere!” Pin chuckled and rubbed his hands together, as he reached down to open up the lid. His glee evaporated, as he discovered that the drawer was locked.

  He headed to the door and snapped his fingers at the nearest mercenary. “You!”

  The soldier stopped shredding the scriptures hanging on the wall to look at Pin. “Yes, sir?”

  “Go down to the High Marshal and see if he has any keys. Bring them to me immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.” The soldier saluted and hurried downstairs to carry out Pin’s orders. Soon he returned, jingling a large bunch of keys.

  Pin snatched them from him, slamming the door to Abdul’s office closed behind him so no one would see what he was doing. He crossed to the desk, rummaging through the keys, and trying any that looked like it might fit.

  Eventually, he found the right one. With a cry of triumph, he opened up the drawer, eager to see what secrets it contained. A number of files were bundled together, along with a locket containing photos of a woman and a child.

  “Did Abdul take a course in writing the most boring reports known to man?” Pin shook his head, as he perused article after article detailing the day to day accounts of the store in the cultural center and reports on tourist activities with suggestions for improvement. “Wait a moment. What’s this?” At the back of the pile, slipped into a nondescript folder, Pin found a few handwritten sheets of paper. The High Marshal’s handwriting was spidery and hard to decipher, but it wasn’t long before Pin got used to his style. As he read, his eyes widened with excitement.

  I have long since neglected the High Marshal’s duty of diarizing the Knights’ daily duties. Truth be told, there seemed little point after we ceased to number any warriors among our ranks. What point is there in writing that the monks created another beautiful version of the Book of Psalms or came up with a new hypothesis about St. Augustine’s writings? The monks document that for themselves and I have little to add.

  However, as I dine alone in my office, I realize that in allowing one duty to lapse, I have also ceased to be as diligent as I should in my other obligations. My tenure as High Marshal has thus far been a failure. I solemnly swear that from this moment forth, I shall never again be so reminisce in my duties. The arrival of Samuel and his friends from Atbara has shown me that the flame of St. Augustine still burns brightly in the hearts and minds of the worthy. How ironic that it is the laity who have shown me my true purpose. Verily, they have been sent by God to show me the error of my ways.

  Having satisfied myself that they were here under the auspices of our leader, Fatima, I agreed to show them the location of St. Augustine’s scepter. The bravery of one man, Waleed, convinced me, as if I needed further convincing, that they were the ones prophesied to bear the scepter. He scaled the stele as if it were a child’s climbing frame, opening the way to the catacombs below.

  Right now, they are exploring the tunnels. How I wish I were with them! What wonders will they discover in the darkness? But, alas, I fear that I am not yet brave enough to risk falling foul of the traps. Perhaps one day when this is all over, I will be able to persuade one of the party to take me through the tunnels so that I can map them again. This could be the dawn of a new generation of warriors for my cell. I shall restore this section to its former glory, create a cell truly worthy of our Order’s sacred duty.

  The door opened, and Gord stood in the doorway. His clothes were scuffed, and an impressive bruise was forming on the side of his cheek following his high speed chase. There was a defiant air about the man, as he prepared himself to face serious questioning over what had just happened.

  “Am I to assume that Samuel and his friends have managed to escape you yet again?” asked Pin, without looking up from his reading.

  “I’m sorry, boss,” Gord told him. “They got a little bolder and craftier this time. They’re not going to give up easily. I thought we had them, but they managed to fight us off. My driver had a little accident, so they were able to get away, but don’t worry. I made sure that he paid the ultimate price for his mistake. I support our policy of zero tolerance for negligence.”

  “And what about your mistakes?” sighed Pin, finally looking up from the documents. “How many times are you going to fail me? Remember, I represent the Bruard. Every time you let me down, you let Our Glorious Leader down. Out of respect for our friendship, I’ve covered for you time and again, but I am running out of excuses. And patience.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gord repeated, hanging his head in contrition.

  “I’m going to give you one last chance,” Pin warned. “Fail this time and I will not be responsible for the results. Make ready the VTOL. We’re going to Atbara.”

  “Sir.” Gord saluted and left to get the craft prepared for flight, as Pin gathered up the documents Abdul had so kindly left for him. He’d read them again on the journey to Atbara. The more he knew about what Samuel might have planned, the easier it would be to squash him, once and for all.

  Forty-Two

  The well-worn cruise boat chugged down the Nile, leisurely making its way along the winding river, as it showed off the spectacular scenery to the scant number of tourists on board. The sun was setting over the horizon, casting vibrant orange and pink rays across the clouds. The effect was breath taking, but it was wasted on Samuel and his friends. They were too focused on cautiously checking out the boat from top to bottom, looking for any signs that the Bruard had followed them on board.

  At last, the team regrouped in one of the lounges.

  “Anyone see anything suspicious?” asked Samuel.

  “I haven’t noticed anything.” Akhenaton shook his head.

  “The only suspicious dude I’ve seen on the boat is Waleed,” added Josh.

  “Hey!” protested Waleed, as Josh grinned to take the edge off his words.

  “The ship is almost empty,” confirmed Basile. “It looks like it’s a quiet time for tourist season, and this was the last boat of the day, so not that many people are on it. We can relax for a while. If the Bruard figured out we’d travel by water, it looks like we managed to leave before they could act on their suspicion. We can relax and unwind for a bit. Nobody’s going to bother us here.”

  “It’s about time.” Waleed needed no further prompting. He headed to the nearest seat and curled up, closing his eyes to get some sleep.

  “Waleed’s got the right idea,” Samuel observed. “I suggest we all try and get some shut eye. We’re going to need to catch the earliest flight out of Atbara if we want to stay one step ahead of the Bruard. We can’t risk taking any time out in a hotel, so this might be the last time we can get any decent sleep. Make yourselves comfortable and make the most of it.”

  The group scattered around the room, each taking a few seats to themselves to sleep in, but although the rest of the team were soon lost in dreams, Samuel tossed and turned. He couldn’t switch off his mind as he relived the events of the day. He’d never forget the sound of the gunshot that had ended Abdul’s life. To think that that had only been thi
s morning. Today had already seemed to last an eternity, and there was still so much to do.

  Patting at his backpack to reassure himself that the scepter was still safely concealed, he got up and headed out on deck. Some fresh air would clear his mind.

  The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, taking with it the last few rays of light and the warmth of the day. The chill of the desert night was setting in. The riverbanks around him were dark and mysterious, as the overhead carpet of stars shone in all its brilliance. The blackness of the surrounding countryside placed the stars in sharp relief, the moon seeming almost as bright as the sun.

  “Can’t sleep either?”

  Samuel turned to see Shafira watching him.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Too much on my mind.”

  “I know what you mean.” Shafira crossed to stand next to Samuel as they gazed up at the stars. Samuel put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to him as they took comfort from each other’s warmth.

  “The kind of experiences we’ve been having recently forge friendships that will last a lifetime,” observed Shafira.

  “I hope so,” Samuel replied. “I don’t like the thought of you not being in my life. Any of you,” he hastily added, not wanting to cross any unspoken lines.

  Shafira looked up at him, smiling sadly, as she pulled away.

  “What’s wrong?” Samuel frowned. “Was it something I said?”

  Shafira shook her head. She shivered, and rubbed her hands against her arms, trying to drive away the goose bumps.

  “It’s not that,” she told him. “It’s just that I’ve got a horrible feeling that we’ve done this before, and I don’t like what I sensed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe it’s just the scepter’s influence, but I just had the incredibly strong feeling that we’ve stood here like this. I saw this moment, the pair of us together. But instead of being happy, the way that I thought I would feel, the vision came with an overwhelming sense of loss and regret. It was as though I’d done something or I knew I was going to do something that would cause the world to end.”