Eve of the Pharaoh: Historical Adventure and Mystery

by R. M. Schultz

  Heaving for air, I leaned over. Muddled thoughts stirred as my vision returned. I’d heard tales of mysterious powers flowing in secret throughout our world, but never saw proof of their existence—

  The strangling returned, this time stronger. I fell to my knees.

  Journal Translation

  MY EYES FLUTTERED LIKE SHUTTERS, alternating night and day. Thoughts whirled in confusion. Akhenaten towered over the board game, kicking my ba and ka into the dirt. Cursing names I’d never heard with violent defiance, dust swirled around his feet and a hot wind whipped his kilt.

  A group of young girls raced toward us, one standing out. Nefertiti, Akhenaten’s own cousin, was young but the most beautiful woman I had or would ever lay eyes on. My mind clouded just looking at her. I attempted to rise. Nefertiti’s younger sister, Mutnedjmet, ran beside her. The smaller girl was cute with soft features, and her feet floated through the sand. The third arrival was one of Akhenaten’s five sisters, Beketaten. Although Beketaten didn’t display Akhenaten’s deformities, her frame swung awkwardly and her face stretched out like a horse’s. Gazing back at Nefertiti, our eyes met.

  “What did you do?” Nefertiti asked her cousin, brushing long, dark hair away from her arching cheekbones. Kneeling beside me, a deep floral and citrus bouquet teased my senses. Her soft hands caressed my neck as she brushed my sidelock from my face—the braided hair youth wear at the side of their heads. The most beautiful girl in the world, and royalty, no less, tried to assist me to a standing position. My dizziness from the strangling or her touch may have affected me, my foot slipping as I collapsed into the dirt. “Oh no!” she said, holding a delicate hand over her open mouth.

  Akhenaten laughed. “Leave him be. He is nothing more than a servant, and is not worth your time.”

  “You shouldn’t treat anyone like this,” Nefertiti said, shaking a finger at him. “Especially your only friend!”

  Lunging at Nefertiti, Akhenaten raised his walking stick. She stood her ground, glaring up at him. Twisting his core like a serpent squeezing a rodent, he wound up for a strike.

  “No!” I yelled, reacting faster than I thought possible. Jumping to my feet, I lifted my own stick. But despite Akhenaten’s build, he wielded inhuman strength. Striking like lightning, his weapon knocked my defense aside with a clap. Another sharp crack followed and resonated through my skull. I tasted metal …

  My head pounded, the kind of throbbing that radiates through your temples and down across your neck and shoulders. A dim light flickered, illuminating white walls strewn with vibrant paintings. Lying upon a bed of reeds in my small room, the smell of roses clung to the air and mingled with citrus. Something wet pressed against my face and drops of cool water rolled down my forehead and cheeks. Nefertiti smiled. A purple ring encircled her eye, showing through her deep green eye paint.

  “What happened?” I asked, my mind racing. Trying to sit up, my eyes focused on the injuries marring her sculpted face. My lower lip cracked and I tasted fresh blood.

  Pressing her chest against mine, she forced me down. “Rest now,” she said.

  Relief washed over me. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Running a hand through her hair, dark locks cascaded down and bounced against a swollen cheek. A trail of dried blood led away from her nostril.

  My muscles tightened in anger. Did Akhenaten hurt her? “No, you aren’t—”

  “You’re my savior,” she said, her smile partially veiled behind shiny hair. “You tried to protect me, risking your own life. I pray Akhenaten will forgive you.” Gliding a tender hand across the dark stubble on my head, she tucked my sidelock behind my shoulder.

  My heart beat like a drum. I was falling deeply in love. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

  “Listen,” she said. “I am thankful for what you did—it was very brave. But Akhenaten is from the line of Pharaoh. You shouldn’t question him, or you’ll suffer greatly in this life and the next. Pharaoh is fond of your father, but not more so than his own son.”

  Such was the world we lived in.

  Giggling erupted inside my room. Nefertiti’s little sister, Mutnedjmet, and Akhenaten’s sister, Beketaten, sat across from us.

  “Are you okay, Horemheb?” Mutnedjmet asked in a high-pitched voice, her almond eyes vibrating with energy. “I hope my stupid cousin didn’t hurt you too badly and—”

  “My brother could’ve injured you permanently if he had wanted to,” Beketaten said. The tip of her nose twitched as she talked, her voice nasal. “He’s very well trained in combat.”

  I couldn’t speak, shocked to see so many females inside my room. But Mutnedjmet and Beketaten faded in the presence of their glamorous family member. Nefertiti blushed.

  Was I staring? My tongue slowly responded, not wanting her to ever leave. “How long can you stay?”

  “Not long,” Nefertiti said, scooting away. Her dark eyes sparkled beneath green paint.

  “Who cares? He’s just a servant boy,” Beketaten said, glaring at her cousins. “It’s like if your cat scratched you, you wouldn’t starve it. Akhenaten will take him back.”

  “I’ll stay with you, Horemheb,” Mutnedjmet said, a smile crossing her young face.

  I froze, confused. Was she really interested in my well-being? The sentiment sounded sweet, and I hadn’t ever received female attention like this. But I desired to be alone with Nefertiti. The curious Mutnedjmet could become a nuisance.

  “Mutnedjmet,” Nefertiti said, “you’ll be leaving with me. There’ll be no girls in this boy’s room after sunset.”

  Mutnedjmet’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Her face flushed to a deep shade of crimson.

  I wanted to say something to Nefertiti, so she wouldn’t forget me in a couple days. But my stomach burned with anxiety and my tongue felt like a limp worm. “I wish I could serve you instead of him, my lady.”

  Nefertiti smirked with sealed lips. Storming out of the room, Beketaten’s sandals stomped the tiled floor.

  My forehead wrinkled in confusion. She couldn’t have cared about a poor servant boy’s attention. Was it envy or resentment then? Perhaps every boy favored Nefertiti.

  “You were born to serve Akhenaten,” Nefertiti said, watching Beketaten’s steaming trail with wide eyes. “No one can change that.” Standing, she took Mutnedjmet’s hand and they both departed.

  Watching them disappear into the dim hallway, I fantasized about our next encounter.

  I had always tried to assist Nefertiti in anyway possible, often standing in her presence with my master, her cousin. But before today I never thought she knew who I was—

  Something landed on the floor beside me, making me jump. Sauntering over to my bed, an orange and white cat flopped down. The stripes over his trunk relaxed. He had entered through the room’s single window, positioned so high I could barely reach it. The opening was fashioned only to provide ventilation from the day’s heat, but even the papyrus-reed curtain for deterring bugs and sunlight didn’t discourage him. I smiled with joy.

  This creature was my best friend. I called him Croc, for crocodile of the Nile. In years past I’d spotted something orange hiding amongst the reeds on the sunny riverbank. I had crept closer. A scrawny kitten! His dark orange streaks enticed me to sneak up behind him, while he remained entranced with the water. Meowing, the awkward creature navigated through the foliage. Pinching his scruff, he reacted quicker than anything I’d encountered. Gangly limbs thrashed, scratching my hands to shreds as he hissed like a snake. But I refused to let go. He bit, sinking needle-like teeth into my flesh.

  Howling in pain, I released the miniature terror. He splashed into the river, swallowed by the calm waters. I gasped, my heart wrenching with guilt. Seconds crawled by without any hint of orange or white. The ripples faded. Sucking in a deep breath, I plunged headfirst into the cool water. I scanned around erupting bubbles, diving deeper. He drifted amidst the blue with frozen limbs, appearing paralyzed. I propelled myself toward
the depths. He sunk deeper, pawing at the water as if mystified but still unable to swim. He’d have to take a breath any second and drown. His suffering and death would be all my fault.

  My hand wrapped around his bony torso as he was about to gasp for air. Clamping down, I hoped to stop his chest from expanding so he wouldn’t inhale the fluid. Unfortunately, I was also not a swimmer. Thrashing with one hand and flailing my feet, I writhed back toward the shore. My chest constricted as the air drained from my lungs. The surface remained too far away. My muscles contracted in panic, and my mouth opened on its own accord. Stinging water crashed against my closed throat, causing me to shudder violently. I clenched my lips and teeth. My chest heaved and spasmed. Then, with a raised hand we broke out into the world together, choking and coughing as I crawled onto land. Releasing the tiny creature, we spewed water like clay drinking vessels.

  “Careful, there’re crocodiles,” an old voice said. A bald man with facial wrinkles so deep they appeared like crevasses clutched a reed net and backed away from the bank. He had not been there when I dove into the river. “Fishermen and those washing clothes are attacked most often. And we know not to splash around like wounded prey, and to avoid the surface and shore. That’s their attack zone. You’re going to get us killed. Now get out of here!”

  Croc remained immobile, wheezing for breath between fits of coughing. Tearing off my kilt, I wrapped him in it to protect myself in case he started biting again. I cradled him in my arms and ran, as naked as the day I was born. Glancing back, the fisherman was gone.

  I raised my skittish new friend, and after months of feeding him, he warmed up to me. The awkward kitten grew into a regal cat and allowed me to stroke his soft fur, purring while he ate. His deep humming warmed my heart and comforted me whenever sadness or loneliness set in. Now he returns and sleeps on my bed every night, as if he owes me a life debt.

  Petting the orange fur along his back, I followed his stripes. He purred and kneaded his toes on the reeds of my bed. A sense of calm rose within me. “Where were you when Akhenaten attacked me?”

  Croc shut his eyes. I chuckled in spite of the aching in my head and recounted the events to my little companion. “What should I do if anything like that happens again? I can’t tell Father. He’d be worried sick, but unable to do anything. Perhaps if I hadn’t killed Mother she could have helped.”

  Stretching, Croc’s footpads brushed my arm.

  “I can’t stand up to Akhenaten, he’s God’s son. But I don’t want him to hurt Nefertiti.”

  Croc’s eyes popped open as he let out a hiss. Claws tore into my forearm as he leapt against the wall, scrambling up and out the window. Ouch! Glancing in the direction Croc had cursed in his own tongue, eyes appeared. Horizontally elongated by black make-up, they glinted through the darkness of the hallway. The small torch in my room flickered and grew dim. Swallowing, my stomach knotted with fear.

  How long had he been there? Pretending not to notice, I closed my eyes.

  “Sleep is boring,” his airy voice whispered from the doorway, bringing the smell of smoke. “Pharaoh tells me to lay down, to dream. I linger in boredom most of the night. If I have to be without the Aten, I would rather wander and watch what others do in his dark absence.” A pause. “What do you do when he sails through the underworld? Do you sleep?”

  I opened my eyes. Akhenaten’s face hovered just inches from mine, his hot breath swarming me. Jumping back, I hit the wall and released a cry of surprise.

  He chuckled. “I hope your head does not hurt too badly. Just do not stand in my way, question my actions, or cheat ever again. Do you understand, my sleepy little servant boy?”

  I nodded, trembling with apprehension.

  “I need to begin preparing,” he said, stepping back. His eyes drifted, staring into nothingness. A moment later they refocused on me. “It is time for you to stop talking unless I ask. Do not address anyone. You are an inanimate object who serves me. Nothing more. You only trust what you hear if it is the sound of my voice. You only trust what you see if it is me you are watching. And you only trust what you feel if it is my emotion.”

  My gaze fell to the floor, the heat of shock and embarrassment rising in my cheeks.

  “You will assist me in the morning, following this sleep.”

  Nodding, I didn’t look up.

  He slipped into the darkness of the hallway. “I may wander a little first, unless Father catches me again.” His voice echoed down the corridor. “Even Pharaoh sleeps like a mortal. I have wandered into his chamber and he has no idea I am even there.”

  Silence. I released a stifled breath and fell onto my bed.

  “And do not get any ideas about Nefertiti. She is mine!” His face emerged, white teeth glinting behind a sneer and a mask of black eye shadow. Vanishing again, his footfalls faded into the distance.

  Present Day

  MADDIE STARED AT THE BOOK in my hands. Her jaw hung, and her shovel and flashlight clattered to the stone floor. “Oh my god! That’s from the Hall of Records?” She pointed at the journal. “Akhenaten and Nefertiti? Two of the most famous of all ancient Egyptians?” Jumping up and down with her hands in the air, her bun bounced.

  I smiled at seeing Maddie’s happiness in spite of our horrendous situation.

  “Yes!” she yelled, her eyes glistening behind dirty glasses. “We’ll find out what really happened and obtain limitless knowledge. That’s the promise of the Hall of Records, right? Or at least enough ancient knowledge, gold, and power to become god-kings.”

  Doubt gnawed at my conscience. “Maybe this is their story, but it’s probably just ancient lore the student was piecing together.”

  I turned back to the diary to read aloud. Something about the words and the corresponding hieroglyphics appeared strangely familiar. The translation must’ve taken the professor or his student months. A chill slithered into the subterranean chamber. I adjusted my fedora by the pinched-front of the teardrop-shaped crown and buttoned up my shirt.

  “You two gave up completely, huh?” Mr. Scalone asked, stepping into the antechamber and unleashing a heavy body odor. “You shouldn’t be wasting time reading. I would like to survive this predicament.” He motioned with his head. “Why’s this mummy down here, anyway? Aren’t they supposed to be inside pyramids?”

  I responded first. “Pharaohs and their families were placed here hundreds of years after their deaths. Priests gathered them, wrapped them in linens to preserve their bodies, and made a great trek through Egypt. They hid the mummies from tomb raiders here in the Valley of the Kings. In the eighteenth dynasty—the time of Akhenaten and Nefertiti, actually—they built tombs here rather than constructing pyramids. The ancients began separating the mortuary temples, where the dead received offerings, from the hidden tombs so Pharaoh’s final resting place wouldn’t be disturbed or plundered. If we get out of here, look at the mountain’s summit. Mount al-Qurn, literally the Horn, or what the ancients called The Peak. Its rocky apex resembles the pyramidion, the capstone of a pyramid, too obviously to be coincidence.”

  Maddie remained silent, probably agreeing with what I had said. But she could be a little condescending because of her formal training. She knew more, but sometimes our ideas didn’t coincide. No one force-fed me their beliefs, so it was easier for me to think outside the box.

  “How the hell would you know?” Mr. Scalone said. “This place was disturbed and plundered.” Motioning for Maddie to follow him, his other large hand made a stop sign for me.

  My brow tensed with suspicion. What was this guy trying to do now?

  Stepping out of sight, their voices became muffled. I crept after them. The dull reverberation of wood tapping on hollow stone filled the air. The sarcophagus? Whispers followed. The echoes sounded like someone trapped inside a deep well. My mouth dropped in realization. There should be an actual well inside this tomb! But not in the burial room.

  A murky image of the lowest chamber of a tomb popped into my mind. Something sparked
. People often considered the wells built into the tombs in the Valley of the Gates of the Kings as magical. But in reality, wells were subterranean chambers meant to drain condensation and rainwater, so the tomb wouldn’t be damaged. They were constructed near the entrance, where water typically worked its way in. Maybe there was another way out.

  I leapt up the twisting stone steps with exhilaration. Climbing past the false block, I continued to the original sealed doorway and prodded the floor and the walls. I’d be a hero yet. Something touched my back. Jerking, I spun around.

  “Relax!” Maddie said, trying to hold my arms down as they instinctively rose into a defensive position. “There’re no walking mummies in here, or they’d have taken you when you were sleeping.”

  Mr. Scalone ascended behind her, dragging the tip of his shovel along the wall. A frightening screech of grinding metal chilled my bones. What did he talk to Maddie about? Killing me off, so he’d have more water?

  Present Day

  “ALREADY SEARCHED THIS AREA,” Mr. Scalone said. “Looked here first because it’s the closest to the surface.”

  My beam of light reflected off the rock beside the stairway. The margin against the wall tilted and angled like a gutter, falling into a long, narrow shaft the beam wouldn’t penetrate.

  “The well?” Maddie said.

  “You think we should look down there?” I asked.

  “I’m not,” she replied. “You’re not the type of guy I’d trust to protect me down there, or get me back out.”