“How could I sleep in this situation?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. “I just took a break.”
My head slumped in shame and my stomach cramped with biting pain. Digging through my bag for pills stronger than antacids, I said, “I don’t think well without sleep.” I clicked on my metal flashlight. The beam reflected off cobweb-covered walls, quickening my pulse. Recent memories rushed back in a flood and fear turned my body cold. Stringing webs clung to my pants, shirt, hair, and even the inside of an ear. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to picture spiders crawling on me and brushed myself off in a frenzy.
Maddie smirked. “Just pretend we’re back in college cramming for a final. You didn’t even look at the material until the day before and had to stay up all night.” She paused. “What excuse did you give your teachers for being gone? You’d probably need a pretty good reason in med school. Can I assume they won’t be looking for you anytime soon?”
Locating the gray herringbone pattern of my fedora, I hid my disgrace. Maddie finally huffed and stomped away, back to the outer chambers. I searched the tomb for a couple more hours before stumbling back to the steps and collapsing in failure and exhaustion. Escaping this crypt was hopeless.
Maddie sat beside me, absently gnawing on a granola bar and sipping water. I gobbled a handful of cashews. The salt shriveled my tongue and forced me to take a gulp of precious water.
Resting with his back against a wall, Mr. Scalone shoveled down a handful of dark jerky. His stuffed backpack lay beside him. How much food and water did he have? So far he hadn’t offered us anything or asked if we had enough. Would he if the time came?
“I have a few packs of batteries in my bag,” Maddie said, “but maybe we should turn off the flashlights when we’re just sitting here, to conserve.” She clicked hers off. Mr. Scalone and I followed suit. Suffocating darkness swallowed us. Teeth crunched on food. The rasps of breathing grew in volume. My eyes darted about in escalating panic.
A light flashed back on. “I can’t take it!” Maddie said, her voice faint as if she’d just sprinted a few laps. “While I have the option, a light stays on … even if it means we live our last hours in the dark.” Standing, she shivered as if she’d just seen the dead. Something in the distance caught her attention and she inched away. My flashlight followed her. Extending her face as far from the student’s corpse as she could, she searched his pockets. She dug a cracked wallet and timepiece from his suit, examined the items, and placed them into her bag. “Okay,” she said in a high-pitched tone, trying to sound optimistic. But the dirt and sweat stains covering her clothes and her tangled hair clashed with the ruse. “Kaylin’s probably already sent a search party, and I’d like to learn the greatest secrets of the human race before we … Gavin, maybe it’s time to crack open that journal. What if it grants us the power of a god-king?”
Intelligence, optimism, and just a hint of sarcasm radiated from her. She was still beautiful. My head felt light under the influence of attraction. Who could control who they desired? Well, I wish she could so she would pick me instead of the hunkier types she usually went for.
“How ’bout I read?” she said, sitting beside me. “I’m probably a faster translator. You know, years of education.”
“You could give a flawless interpretation,” I said, “but it looks like he wrote the English version. And I worry …” Pausing, I considered my words. I didn’t want to offend her and her training. Looking down, my hands slid under my thighs as my shyness controlled me. But I didn’t want to hand over my one prize from my only expedition. “I’ve spent my life on this subject, too, even if not academically. And we wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked certain clues out of the letter.”
Maddie’s eyes narrowed, but the bridge of her nose wrinkled and one corner of her lips lifted. “Okay, you can read it to me.”
I let out a long sigh, releasing an aching tension. The horror of our situation mildly subsided. Discovering something new about ancient Egypt would ease our minds. What else could we do at this point? Hopefully the others would find us and dig us out.
“Idiots.” Mr. Scalone grunted between moist chomps of meat. “We don’t need a goodnight story, we need to get outta here.” Grabbing his pack, he disappeared into the darkness.
I blinked my gritty eyes and ran a hand across my face. At least the air was cool in this tomb, compared to the 90 to 115 degrees Fahrenheit in the desert outside. I dug out the leather-bound book, its cover peeling like scales of a reptile. Turning the first crinkling page, I read, “You who can read this has truly entered the Hall of Records. Behold the secrets of the grandest and longest-reigning civilization that will ever exist in this world. This is The Legend, as old a tale as has ever been recorded by man. The greatest story ever told.”
Journal Translation
LET MY VOICE ECHO FROM THIS eternal hall of stone and carry throughout the ages. May these words be heard by those with the ability to discover them. When you interpret the past you may perceive the future.
If you’re reading this then I’m already dead, passed from this world to the beyond—my failed attempt to achieve immortality, the birthright of the privileged few.
Many times I have struggled to tell this tale, to comprehend the truth of what really happened. I shared only pieces with friends and family, to spare them the horror and despair. This is my final rendition.
The world is already old. Tens of thousands of years passed before the first god arrived and united us, when we were nothing but wandering nomads. The writings at Karnak, Memphis, Abydos, the Palermo Stone, and the Turin Royal Canon indicate the reign of god-kings ruled our empire for over 1,500 years before my time. So many pharaohs lived and passed into the beyond, blessing or destroying our kingdom.
I was an ordinary man, born to a common man and woman. Not a god-king, but I lived with the splendor and the heinous, never forgetting the day I overheard Akhenaten’s dreams. These ramblings succeeded his own death, but God, the Aten, resurrected him before my very eyes. We were young when his brother, the crown prince, suddenly died, leaving a trail of mystery. Akhenaten claimed to have witnessed it all when he visited the underworld.
“The gods are dead,” Akhenaten said into the shadows, waving his gangly limbs. Firelight danced behind him, outlining his form like a demon. “They destroyed each other in a great war following their human deaths. Remembrances of deific struggles have scarred our lands. Apart from the river and the black banks, there is only the red desert … a wasteland. A thousand years ago it was not so. Lush oases decorated the sands and herds of animals roamed. It has all crumbled to ash and dust.”
Crouching into my hiding spot, I eavesdropped on the evil thoughts buried beneath Akhenaten’s façade. The cold sweat of fear trickled down my back, causing me to shudder. Flames crackled, twisting his shadow into a monster. Thick smoke burned my nostrils, carrying the reek of something haunting. A slit of light eked beyond his body and landed upon my face. Holding my breath, my heart pounded in my ears.
“This world is the only one left in all the universe, after the passage of the so-called gods.” His oddly deep voice resonated, as if speaking to someone. But he appeared to be alone. “All of the gods except the Aten, the sun itself, have fallen. The living sun-disc is the giver and taker of all life in our world. The sun is dominion! The sun and Ahkenaten, we will be one and the same after father passes. I will become the Aten and control all of existence!”
What madness boiled beneath my master’s eyes and his twisted shadow? I should’ve run, but I couldn’t force myself away.
Holding a white blade above his head, he twisted the knife and watched shadows tread across a golden hilt. He sliced into his forearm. My eyes and jaw popped opened like a fish being yanked from the Nile. Dark blood streamed from the gash, running down his wrist. Cupping his hand, he cradled the liquid before it crawled over his fingers and dripped onto the floor. Leaning his head back, his eyes closed in pleasure. His shadow flickered in a d
irection opposite his body. I gasped in shock. Slamming an open palm over my mouth, I held my breath in fright. What sinister force could explain what I had just witnessed, some kind of magic? Or did terror manipulate my mind?
Snatching a pitcher, Akhenaten poured liquid onto his wound. Fizzing bubbles erupted. Screaming in pain, he shoved a wadded rag into his mouth. Muffled shrieks ran on for nearly a minute but didn’t carry down the dark hall.
Easing the cloth from his lips, strands of saliva clung on like spider webs. “That is why only the strong thrive and reproduce in this world. There are no gods who reward kindness or dignity, you ignorant fool! The ravenous and avaricious obtain power over the meek, only to be rewarded. Do you still not understand? Our world is the world of the gods, with the Aten and Pharaoh. The underworld is for mortals; I’ve seen it! God chose the laws of this land. And he is capricious. He may favor you now, but could turn on you in an instant. We currently exist in what people believe is the glorious afterlife, our hell. Breathe in the moment. False promises of a more comfortable life after death should never dictate how you live today.”
Turning his head, firelight flashed in the corner of his eye. My heart raced with fear. Swooning, I nearly collapsed. Did he notice me spying? Or had he been speaking to me the entire time?
Journal Translation
BUT MY SITUATION DID NOT begin this way. Father said a phoenix cried at the crack of dawn, suffocating my mother’s final scream as the doctor pulled me into this world and she departed for the next. Entering with the sunrise—the rebirth of the Aten—I wailed as Osiris released his hold on the earth. A child of darkness who executed his mother, or so they told me.
Father worked himself weary to earn servitude to Akhenaten’s father, one of Egypt’s greatest god-kings, Amenhotep III. Throughout Pharaoh’s extensive reign he developed and nurtured the country. People swam in wealth and prosperity, enjoying comforts previously unknown. But given the peace Amenhotep III cast across Egypt and all the lands of the outer world, the military’s strength began to wane.
As a servant of the only immortal in the world—an honor that God bestowed upon Father—Father would be granted access to communion. This would help our family blossom in the eyes of the Aten. God helped the faithful pass divine judgment and be reborn in the underworld, once they had completed the first two steps of the life, death, and rebirth cycle. We only needed to work hard and pray often throughout our short time in this world. Then we’d live together in eternal happiness.
Luck smiled on this common boy. I grew up alongside Amenhotep III’s second son, Akhenaten, originally named Amenhotep IV. He was several inundations older than I—the inundation represented our annual flood and measure of time. And after Akhenaten’s previous servant went mad, Pharaoh appointed me as his son’s personal subject. I’d serve and learn from a direct descendant of God.
But everything changed. After I received my life’s position, Akhenaten and I played together. Relentless sun and overlying sky surrounded us, stretching infinitely blue. The desert aridity parched my tongue and throat, but I hadn’t known anything different. Sitting in white, knee-length kilts upon the sand, a board game rested between us. Rays of heat rained down, but he insisted on remaining under the living sun-disc, the Aten our God, the creator and destroyer of all life.
For the first time Akhenaten allowed me to play the board game senet with him, to hone his skills for future contests. He’d claimed the title of Reigning Champion of the kingdom years ago and had no intention of ever losing. The most popular game of our time put the trifecta of strategy, wisdom, and blind luck to the test.
Sitting in front of me, the future god’s disfigurements were subtle. At the time he was not meant to rule, but perhaps the Aten changed its mind after the birth order of Pharaoh’s sons. Perhaps the Aten fashioned him peculiarly because he’d be different. His father didn’t carry those spindly limbs, the elongated face with thick lips, or the prominent cheekbones. Despite his thin frame his stomach and chest sagged, but his most striking feature was his elongated skull. Destined to wear the red and the white crowns of Lower and Upper Egypt, his head was already cast in their shape. An uncomfortable sinking sensation arose in my gut.
Akhenaten’s eyes flashed up, the orbs always cast in shadow below thick, black eye paint. “Your turn,” he said, his floral and leather-scented body oils mingling in the heat.
I sat captivated by his grotesque appearance.
“Stop staring,” he said, his voice growing deeper as his lips thinned and pulled back. “My other servants are old and boring, but you watch me like them.” Shifting his hunched form, a dark cloud settled over the sun. Spidery fingers reached for his walking stick, which always rested nearby. My stomach grew empty with worry, like an endless hunger. But his eyes turned misty, drifting off into another world. “Do I intrigue you? Am I not fit for the eyes of a mere servant?” Tapping his finger against a sunken cheek created a hollow echo.
I shook my head, my gaze sliding away.
“I will grow out of this appearance. My father, the god-king, told me so.” A single tear pooled in the corner of his eye.
The sinking sensation of pity filled my heart. Did he play with me to avoid judgment from the other royal children? Were we not friends? “I was only admiring your tactic on passing the water test,” I lied, trying to deflect attention to the senet game. “You’re from the family of the Aten and will achieve the afterlife and greatest glory we all hope for. If I look upon you, it’s only with envy.”
Snarling like a lion, he hesitantly let his words fall. “If I were to be Pharaoh I would understand. But coming so close without ever transforming into God himself … I do not think I am favored, and I curse them.”
Swallowing, I stared at the sand with worry.
“It is your move,” he said.
I counted along the thirty squares with the game piece for my soul, ba, and the piece for my life force, ka. Landing upon a square of power, I earned a spell from the Book of the Dead.
Yelling, I jumped up into a victory dance, my legs and arms swaying to the rhythm of the sistra rattle in my head. “I passed judgment! I’m on my way to the afterlife!”
“Impossible!” Akhenaten said. Placing one hand on his stick, his other clawed through the dirt. The sun’s rays faded again and a chill wind rustled my hair and kilt. My master’s knees bent backward slightly as he planted his feet. His hunched form rose, fan-shaped shoulder blades sliding under thin muscles like wings of a great bird.
My stomach flipped, realizing my mistake.
“You cheated. A commoner will never receive power before me!” Lifting his face to the sky, he opened his palms and shrieked, “Why?” His ribcage expanded before his gaze settled on me. “You passed the water test because of my assistance. I believed you would be a good servant in the next life. But I said four spaces. You did not roll three and receive a spell from The Book.”
“I must’ve misheard … I thought—”
“Silence!” he said, thrusting a long finger at me. “You do not even know how to count or read. I tell you what the dice say. You are just a servant with no education, and you know nothing. But you are a cheater.” His elongated eyes narrowed, the black on his upper lids stretching.
Speaking in my meekest voice, fear rose inside like a flood. “No, a mistake. I barely know how to count.”
“Grab a stick,” he said, pointing behind me.
Sauntering to the nearby mud-brick wall, I kicked up dust before arriving at a stack of poles. I fumbled around before picking a sturdy stick, its surface knotted and blanched from the sun. The object emphasized my scrawny frame. What did he plan to do?
“Come over here.”
I inched my way back. “Are we going to play the bat and ball game?” My lips quivered.
“We will let God decide,” he whispered in a hollow voice, striding toward me with a stiff-legged gait. “You are too ignorant to understand the significance of the bat and ball. The ball is the eye of
the evil serpent, Apep. If you smite his enemy, the Aten will grant you power in the underworld.” He stalked me. “I see Apep now.”
Swallowing a touch of my apprehension, I said, “I can throw the ball so you can hit it harder.” I motioned with a fake toss. “It’ll be fun and grant you even more favor!” Plucking a ball from the ground, I lobbed it at him. He batted the toy directly into the earth.
“Games prepare us for the trials of the underworld, before the Aten and the judges,” he said. “You, I fear, will never pass into the next life. Your ba will be consumed by the Devouring Monster, even if you stumble upon the chamber of judgment—”
Laughter from approaching children floated on the wind, drawing his attention.
His words bit deep, stinging my heart. I’d heard stories of the Devouring Monster. When God judged a person, his heart was weighed on a scale against a feather, representing the divine and righteous order. If the objects were of equal weight, the heart belonged to a person who had lived a decent life. If not, the organ would be cast to the vile beast, a monster with the face and jaws of a crocodile, the body of a lion, and the rear of a hippopotamus. When a man’s heart, the essence of his thought, personality, and memory was consumed by the Devouring Monster, he’d cease to exist in any world. No greater punishment could be dealt.
Akhenaten spoke in anger, but knew more about these matters than me. I only learned what he taught me, as in recent years Father had turned peculiar. When I was young, Father educated me in the ways of the world, but now whenever I asked about obscure and deeper matters, he grew fearful. He assured me I’d learn all I needed to know about God from my master. After all, Akhenaten received daily mentoring on all manner of subjects from the most educated scribes, court advisors, councilmen, high priests—
My master’s head snapped back, eyeing me like a great cat about to pounce upon the weakest of the herd. Hoisting my stick in shaky hands, I attempted a feeble defensive stance. His thick lips pulled back into a smile, only a few feet from my face. A crushing sensation ensnared my throat like jaws, and I gasped for breath. Quaking with fear, I coughed and attempted to scream for help. Only gurgling came out. Fog swirled across my vision as darkness closed in. What was happening? Magic? Frantically tearing at the nothingness around my neck, I attempted to free myself. The pressure released.
Eve of the Pharaoh: Historical Adventure and Mystery Page 4
