Stone

by Linda Mooney

  Pulling up the picture she’d taken of the idol on her phone when her uncle had shown it to her, she sent it to her work inbox. From there she threw it up on the big wall screen in her office. Picking up the wireless mouse, she got up from her chair and studied the object until Cassidy stuck her head through the door.

  “Hey! You coming to this meeting or not?”

  “I’m coming.” Dropping the mouse onto her desk, she grabbed her file folder to accompany her aide to the meeting.

  Cassidy gestured toward the display. “What’s that?”

  “My next project,” Brielle answered with a grin, and closed the door behind them.

  *

  Kelling followed Irmine outside to find the workers trying to dig out the large statue for the umpteenth time. He murmured an expletive. “How many cave-ins does this make? Seven?”

  “Eight by my count, but who’s really counting?”

  “I told Brielle the old Egyptian gods seemed determined for that statue to remain buried. I was only joking, but now I’m beginning to think it might not be too far from the truth.”

  “Well, if it’ll help any, we got permission today from the government to ship that little idol to the States,” Irmine told him.

  “Thank the old gods for small favors,” Kelling lightly jested. “How about the big one? Any word back on it?”

  “Not yet. More than likely they’re going to send a representative out to inspect it first before they give their okay.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured they’d do, too. Well, let’s get the little one packaged up and sent out tomorrow.”

  “I already have it well-wrapped and boxed,” the assistant assured him. “I’ll drive it into the city first thing in the morning.”

  Kelling eyed the huge depression that was now bigger than a football field. Somewhere down there was the gargoyle-like statue. If it ended up being the kind of find he was hoping it was, the historic repercussions would be enormous.

  But first, they had to get the damn thing out of there, and that wasn’t going to be an easy job. Not by a long shot.

  Chapter 5

  Awakened

  Self-awareness slowly returned. Something had brought him back to life. Something had awakened him after…how long?

  It was difficult to think. His brain was foggy. His vision was equally clouded. The world was either filled with silence, or he had lost his sense of hearing.

  All he knew for certain was that he’d finally awakened after thousands of years of sleep. He couldn’t explain how he knew it had been that long. It was as if the gods had placed that information inside his head.

  When Minbar had given him the draught, a feeling of lassitude had slowly oozed through him. It had coated his abused muscles, taking away the pain and allowing him to breathe again. It also made him drowsy. He’d never suspected that he’d been cursed, condemned to live throughout eternity in stone.

  His body twitched in pain as fire spread through nerves kept too long dormant, from staying in this one position the entire time. Muscles spasmed, and he grunted as agony washed over him.

  Slowly, ponderously, Garenth pulled himself through the softened layers of disturbed silt. His brain vaguely realized the significance of his actions. Like his body, it had spent eons asleep. Coming fully awake would take time, as well.

  A faint thought brightened. A questioning. A wondering seeking reasoning.

  Why had he awakened? What had brought him back to life, such as it was in this new form?

  He lifted his clawed hands to his face, and immediately he knew why. His hands were empty. The vial that had given him freedom from pain as it condemned him to be this.

  Hours passed. Making his way to the surface was exhausting. Despite the loose dirt, a lot of it still covered him. With his wings a-spread, plowing through it to the surface was not going to be easy. His thoughts remained half-muddy as he pulled the huge appendages in against his body. Grit left a thin layer between the wings and his back, but the irritation helped to center him.

  He dug his talons into the loam to try and tunnel an escape route. The sandy grains easily gave way, but there was too much of it. White anger flared in his chest. Giving a muffled roar of frustration, he flexed his muscles as it tried to stand. Dirt flew everywhere as his head and wings suddenly broke free. And for the first time in many millennium, he breathed air.

  The world had changed. Differences wafted on the wind—some pleasant, some not so pleasant. After another long moment, the newly revived figure extradited himself from the pit. Overhead the moon was a barely discernable sliver of white. The new moon would come back in another couple of nights. The new moon was the perfect time to begin his search. In the meantime, he had to adjust to this unfamiliar world and unfamiliar time.

  He looked over the organized disarray surrounding him. Someone had been digging. Several someones, he determined. They had been searching, which had disturbed his resting place. More so, someone had found the talisman, setting off the chain of events that had resulted in him being pulled from his eternal sleep.

  He raised his enormous wings, and with a heavy, downward thrust, he lifted into the air. He continued to head upward until he was far enough above the earth to catch the air currents. The wind was colder up there, but he reveled in the sensation because it meant he was alive again. Brought back among the living for a purpose. For a reason. For a cause.

  For the talisman.

  There was no reason to search for the artifact amid the excavation. He knew it had been taken from its resting place. From his grasp. From him. His cursed purpose now was to find the talisman and make sure it was in a safe place, in safe hands. And if it wasn’t, to find a new home for it and him to rest since their old home was no longer suitable.

  Cities passed below him. Maps of light he didn’t recognize. Areas that had been piles of sand during his lifetime had given way to humanity.

  The creature frowned. So much time had passed. Too much had changed. It might make his search more difficult. Yet the artifact called to him, beckoned to him like the lonely wail of a night bird. He was winging westward, over the vast ocean, and it was a true beacon. That which he sought had crossed the wide, rolling waves, and lay in the distance.

  It would take him a journey of thousands of miles to find it. Once he did, he would have to decide where to hide it again. Only then could he go back to sleep for another thousand or more years. Back to sleep…and blissful oblivion.

  So he wouldn’t have to remember.

  Garenth gritted his teeth. They ground together, stone on stone, and echoed loudly in his head. His mouth was full of grit, and no amount of spitting could rid him of it. He needed water. He needed to drink. He needed something in his belly. After all these years, his body was returning to normal, regardless of the long sleep, and in spite of his new form.

  He followed the night, his enormous wings beating tirelessly for hours on end. At some point he knew his lack of humanity would kick him where it would hurt the worst, but there was nothing he could do to prepare him for that moment. It was as if the curse had strengthened his new body to feel nothing except what was contained inside. Inside his heart and his mind, especially. His body resembled nothing of the man he’d been. But his emotions…that was the hell he had to live with for the rest of eternity.

  Sunlight began to trickle over him. The day was dawning faster than he could fly. No matter. Day or night, it wouldn’t affect how he looked or lived. It wasn’t as if he was some were-beast doomed to a half-life of animalistic behavior in the darkness, yet retaining a semblance of his real self once dawn broke. No, not in this case. He had been placed under a solid curse by a priestess well-versed in the darkest arts by one of the most feared of all gods, and there was no way of breaking it.

  The waves rolled a few hundred feet below him as he kept due west, heading into territory more surreal than the time period he’d awakened in. Every now and then he would glimpse a vessel in the distance. Enclosed boats, mo
st of them. Much larger than any ship or boat he had been on when he had lived.

  Lived. A feeble grunt of humor escaped him. He had lived. Once. He had been human. Once. What would he call himself now?

  He wasn’t tiring. He doubted if he would ever feel tired again. If he would feel the soreness of over-worked muscles when he finally landed. It was possible that part of humanity was no longer allowed to be experienced by him. He had lost so much when he’d been cursed. So much sensation. So much feeling and depth of emotion. So much.

  So much. He shook his head, aware that his heart remained shrouded in sorrow at the memory. Memory was all he had left of the man who had been Garenth bin Al-Emin. Memory of what it was like to do, or to see, or to feel.

  Yes, the air surrounding him was cold. If he was human, he would have shivered. Yes, the air was thin, but a real man would have been gasping for every breath.

  Real men didn’t have skin of stone. Or enormous wings like thin sheets of nearly transparent alabaster. Or hands and feet bearing huge talons. Or a face that would terrify even the most depraved soul.

  Real men could breathe, and dream, and love. Every heartbeat meant another step closer to death. Every breath was one less that would be drawn in his lifetime. Death at this point would be a redemption, but it was an event he believed he would never be granted. Not anymore.

  The curse was final and absolute. Eternity was his foe and his master. And closing his eyes only brought back scenes from the past that ate at his gut.

  Keeping to his course, the creature who had once been a man wondered what he would find when he arrived at his destination.

  Chapter 6

  Artifact

  “Oh, dear Lord. This is one ugly ass figurine.”

  Brielle glanced up from the box she was inventorying to look over at what her assistant was exclaiming over. This shipment was the first of three boxes sent from the site, and she had been looking forward to diving into them ever since her uncle had told her he’d be shipping them.

  “I don’t care what it looks like,” she told the woman standing on the other side of the table, adding a smile. “This stuff is more valuable than gold, so treat it as such.”

  Cassidy nodded. “Oh, I will, but that still doesn’t change the fact that this is one ugly ass statue.”

  Holding out a hand, Brielle motioned for her to give it up. “Have you coded it yet?”

  “Yeah. Coded and chipped.” The woman carefully made sure she had a firm grip on it before releasing it.

  As she’d first guesstimated, the statuette was about four inches high. It somewhat resembled a woman—pudgy, with pendulous breasts and a slit between the legs that identified it as being female. Unfortunately, the head and facial features were nightmarish. They were grotesque and more animalistic than human, Brielle could see why her assistant called it ugly.

  “It looks like a gargoyle.”

  “A what? Gargoyle?”

  “Yes. Comes from the French word gargouille, meaning ‘gargling’.”

  Cassidy wrinkled her nose in confusion. “I know what a gargoyle is, but get real. Gargling?”

  Laughing, Brielle explained. “Most gargoyles are found perched on top of ancient buildings.”

  “Like churches?”

  “Usually,” Brielle nodded. “Anything medieval, like a castle, too, may have some. They were used to direct rain off of the roofs, and the sound of the water sluicing through the throat of the statues made very distinct gurgling sounds. Hence the name.”

  “Why in the world would anyone want to put such god-awful looking things on a church? I mean, if they wanted a way for the rain to run off, why not have angels or cherubs?”

  “Well, believe it or not, gargoyles were etched to look like this on purpose. They were supposed to be ugly in order to scare away demons.”

  Cassidy grimaced again, and Brielle giggled. She started to mention another aspect of the find when the phone rang in the office. Her assistant left to answer it. A moment later a voice called out, “Brielle, it’s for you! It’s Dr. Kelling!”

  Brielle rushed for the phone in her office. “Uncle Chet! Why are you calling my office phone and not my cell?”

  “My cell is recharging. I’m at the Ministry of Artifacts in Cairo and wanted to give you a call to see if you’d received the shipment.”

  “Three crates were delivered two hours ago. We’re going through them now. Have you found any more specimens like these? These are magnificent!”

  A deep chuckle rumbled in her ear. Despite the distance, the connection was strong. “Just wait, Brielle. I just had another four crates shipped to you. Have you managed to unearth the artifact I’d shown you in our last call? It was wrapped separately.”

  “In red paper? Yes. The female figurine, right?”

  “That’s the one. The female gargoyle. Take special care with it, Brielle. It has a history.”

  “They all have a history,” she told him.

  “Not like this one, Brielle,” the professor told her. “The moment I showed a picture of it to our two associates here from the Musée, they’ve been bombarding me with warnings.” His voice dropped icily. “They tell me the artifact is a seal.”

  “Ooh, a seal?” Climbing into her chair, Brielle crossed her legs at the ankles and concentrated on what the man was about to tell her. “To what? A doorway?”

  “The locals call it a kalorshai. The way they refer to it is like it’s a seal to a letter.”

  “Like those old-timey wax seals used in past centuries?” Brielle remarked.

  “A little like that, yes,” Kelling admitted.

  “So what happens if the seal breaks?”

  “You don’t want to know,” the man replied ominously.

  Brielle laughed. The man took his job too seriously at times. However, the professor didn’t find it to be a laughing matter.

  “This is no joke, Brielle Van de Camp. Take extra caution with that figurine. Lock it up inside my personal vault. I’ll deal with it when I get back to the States.”

  “When do you expect to be back?”

  “Two weeks from next Friday.”

  “Is Arnie or Irmine coming with you?”

  “No. They’re staying here to see to the excavation of that one big idol we’ve yet to recover from the ruins. Because it’s taking more time than we’d expected, Arnie has to file another extension for the digs with the provincial government.”

  “I thought you already had all that paperwork taken care of,” Brielle said.

  “We did,” her boss conceded. “But finding these new relics, especially that one figurine, has brought about some unexpected complications.”

  “You mean their superstitions have put a wrinkle in your plans.”

  “Call it what you will, Brielle,” the man almost growled. “Many faiths have been built on superstitions, until actual truth either destroyed or supported those beliefs. Do I have to go back and repeat some of my previous lectures to you?”

  This time she did back off slightly. The man was acting a bit stranger than usual, and for the professor of Egyptology, it was as telling as a flashing sign. The man was worried. He had been spooked, and she didn’t have to guess why. “No, sir. Don’t worry. I’ll place the statuette in your personal vault as soon as we hang up.”

  She could hear his sigh of relief. “Thank you, Brie. That’s why I had it sent over first. You’re the only person I trust to keep it under wraps until I return. Well, I need to head over to the ministry to meet with Monsieur LeBec. I’ll have Arnie fax you copies of the extension so you can file them with my records. He’ll also email the topography of the dig so you can begin working on the report. Did you get the GPR reports?”

  “Yes, and the photos.”

  “Good. Oh, and, Brielle? Whether you believe the stories or not, treat the seal with respect.”

  “I promise.”

  “Thanks. Talk to you when I get back.”

  The professor signed off, leaving Brielle to sta
re at the receiver. After a minute of thinking over what the man had told her, she hung up and called out to the woman in the next room.

  “Hey, Cass? Bring me that ugly ass statuette, would you?”

  The woman brought her the little figurine, carefully placing it in Brielle’s hand. Like so many of the artifacts the professor had already found in his excavations, this one was made of dried clay. There was no outer layer or additional dressing, like beads or feathers. No jeweled adornments. Just the odd little ring of what appeared to be gold around its neck. And they would have to continue to assume that’s what it was until they were able to test the metal. Then again, if this little grotesquerie was really a seal to a spiritual or symbolic treaty, it wouldn’t have any additional refinements. But if the gold was real, that would open a whole new can of worms.

  But why a female gargoyle? she wondered to herself. Gargoyles were typically male. Same for the chimeras.

  Now her interest was rising. Once she got Arnie’s sketches of the dig, and she could get a better idea of where the statuette had been found, she would be able to answer the more pertinent questions. But would it answer the most important question?

  If the statuette was a seal, what was it sealing? What was it keeping intact?

  Was the secret it was hiding a good one or a bad one?

  Brielle arose from her chair and walked into her uncle’s office, turning on the light as she entered. Normally the room was kept locked, but when the first shipment of crates arrived, she’d opened it to store them inside while they were waiting to be unpacked.

  Kelling’s private safe was located in the false bottom of his lower desk drawer. Brielle was one of three people who knew the combination. She pushed aside the files and punched the keypad. The door clicked open. Pulling several tissues from the box on the professor’s desk, Brielle wrapped the statuette before laying it inside the safe.

  She started to close the lid when she hesitated. The figure wasn’t as important historically as it was theoretically. But something niggled in the back of her mind. Something wasn’t adding up, but she couldn’t put a finger on why, or what.