“I don’t know. Just accepting the inevitable, I guess. Please stop straining yourself,” I pleaded as Amon grunted and staggered beneath the ceiling.
The scrape of a shoe on the dusty floor told me Amon had heeded my words. Soon he was next to me, trying to catch his breath in a space almost devoid of oxygen.
“Are you going to die, too?” I asked.
“Perhaps not immediately, but losing you will weaken me to the point that my death will be inevitable. For the first time in millennia I will have failed in my duty.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Amon put his arms around me, pulling me close. “No. I am sorry for this, Young Lily. I did not wish to endanger your life.”
“Yeah, well, I should have known that taking up with a mummy was not the safest bet.” Stretching my hand above my head, I could easily press my palm against the ceiling now. Amon and I slid down a little, prolonging the inevitable. Turning my face in his direction, I decided to throw caution completely to the wind and asked, “So, does the weight of our situation inspire you to rethink the idea of kissing me? I mean, if I’m going to die, I’d really like to know what a kiss feels like first.”
Amon murmured, “The weight of our situation…weight. Could it be that simple?”
Carefully, Amon moved around me and found the round groove again. He chanted, and I felt the sting of sand as it whipped past me with a hiss.
“What are you doing?” I whispered in the darkness.
Ignoring me, he kept on and then cried out in joy at the whir and click of the walls. The ceiling rose and the floor shifted. The momentum caused me to lose my balance and roll to the side. The cool rush of air filled the room as Amon took my hand and helped me stand.
Soft golden light filled my eyes as Amon’s skin began to glow once more, and he pointed at the thing he’d created—a stone ball that fit exactly into the groove of the floor.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I once heard a story about weighted balls being used in the pyramids. A stone ball weighted just right was used to open secret passageways and doors. We were going in the right direction, but we did not have the weighted ball necessary to enter.”
“So the depression we found was like a lock and the ball was the key?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
The deadly box had opened up to a new passage. As we passed through the doorway, Amon leaned down and grabbed the ball he’d created, dropping the heavy item, which was about the size of a grapefruit but with the weight of a bowling ball, into my bag before placing the strap across his chest.
So I wasn’t going to die after all. Gratitude filled me and I smiled, vowing to remember that even in the most dire of circumstances, it was better to live, explore, and face possible danger than to cower for the rest of my life inside a pretty box. From that point forward, daredevil would be my middle name.
“I think we should just assume that there are going to be more booby traps ahead,” I said, still smiling.
“Yes. We should move cautiously,” Amon said as he peered at me quizzically, probably trying to understand why I was in such a good mood.
During our careful advance, Amon didn’t come across anything, and we passed through several corridors unharmed. After climbing a long series of stairs, we came upon another set of hieroglyphs. This time there was a clear indication that the secret tomb hiding the whereabouts of the sun god was close by. Amon decided that since we were so near to his last resting place, we should momentarily abandon the search for his brother and check out his tomb first to see if we could find his canopic jars.
We reached a stone wall with the symbol of the sun engraved upon it. Amon pushed a lever, causing a hiss, followed by an explosion of dust that blew over both of us.
A crack of light appeared. Undaunted, Amon shoved the wall, widening the gap, and we entered the tomb. The vacant room was filled with artificial light. We ducked into the next chamber and found it empty as well.
As Amon studied the hieroglyphs covering the walls, I stayed where I was and pulled out the map I’d been given earlier. “Amon, do you realize where we are?”
“We are near my burial chamber.”
“Yes, but this is no ordinary tomb. This is KV63. As in, the tomb of King Tut!” Amon stared at me as if waiting for the punch line. I sputtered, “The point is, this is the most famous tomb here and we aren’t likely to be alone for long, so we have to hurry.”
Amon nodded and turned back to the carvings while I perused the map. Mumbling to myself, I said, “We came in through the treasury, so this must be the burial chamber. To the left is the antechamber, and just beyond that, the annex. The passageway out is over there.” I pointed in the general direction of the exit.
Amon turned to me, ducked his head, and whispered, “If I was indeed buried here, I would not have been found near the pharaoh or in the annex or the antechamber. My tomb would have been near the treasury room. We were always hidden behind the great treasures so that marauders would stop and not search any farther.”
“Well, apparently someone found you.”
“Yes. But where? There is no indication that another mummy was discovered in this area.”
“Maybe you were moved?” I suggested.
“Perhaps.”
“Then maybe your canopic jars are still here.”
“They may be.” We searched all the walls and found nothing indicating a hidden chamber or canopic jars.
Starving, I pulled out an apple from my bag and felt grateful that Amon had forced me to bring some food along. As I searched for another water bottle, an orange fell out and bounced along the ground until it came to a stop in a corner.
When I picked it up, I found it had rolled right into a spherical depression, similar to the one we’d found before.
“Amon! Over here!”
He crouched down next to me and smiled. “You have found it.” The hollowed-out sphere had a sun engraved in it. Taking the sand sphere from my bag, Amon whispered some words and the sand on the surface of the stone shifted, creating an exact impression of the sun to match the mold in the floor. Fitting the stone ball into the depression, he turned it slowly, and there was an audible hiss as the floor began to move.
A wall rose to block off the entrance to the treasury and, then the entire floor sank as if we were in a large elevator. When it came to a stop, we were several levels below King Tut’s tomb. Stepping off, Amon removed the stone ball and the treasury room lifted, returning to its original position. It took the light with it, so Amon lit his skin. Before us was a vast chamber supported by stone columns.
Deeply etched engravings and paintings depicting fascinating events, very different from the ones in the other tombs, lined the walls. I saw the sun, the moon, and the stars, the great pyramids, images of the god with the giraffe head, and what I recognized as Anubis pointing to three men in the process of mummification.
“What does all this mean?” I asked.
“This is my story. My tomb,” Amon responded quietly as he moved forward. He stopped at a large sarcophagus carved from wood. The detailing on it was exquisite, and I gasped when I realized it looked like Amon. Gingerly, I traced the curves of his face on the wooden image.
“It’s you,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“But there was a golden sarcophagus in the museum when you woke up. It looked like you, too.”
“I do not know why or how I came to be in that sarcophagus. Perhaps a second one was created by those who watch over us, or perhaps I was relocated to protect my identity, but this is the one that was created for me by Anubis.”
“Why isn’t it golden, like King Tut’s?”
“Neither I nor my brothers have a need to collect or display our power with great treasures. Our purpose is simply to serve. If there were rumors of gold or a treasure associated with us, then thieves and marauders would constantly seek us out.”
“I like this better,” I said as I ran my hand over
the polished wood, which had been expertly carved and painted with great care. Amon’s smile indicated that my remark had pleased him, but his thoughts and emotions were shadowed. “Amon?”
“Yes?”
“Why is your sarcophagus gleaming? It looks like someone just oiled it.”
Amon walked around to the other side. “I do not know. Perhaps our caretakers have been here. I think we need to open it. Stand back, Lily.”
Slowly raising his arms, Amon chanted softly. The top of the huge coffin shook and rose off its base. It was heavy, and Amon’s arms trembled as the lid moved to the side. Lowering his arms, he gently set it on the floor, where it settled in the sand before falling against the side of the sarcophagus with a heavy thud. I went to him, offering to share my energy, but he waved me off and leaned against the coffin until he caught his breath.
I wasn’t sure what he or I expected to find, but there was nothing. The huge casket was empty.
“I do not understand,” Amon said, peering inside. “I should have awoken here. How was I brought to your city?”
“Someone must’ve moved you.”
“But who? Why?”
“Maybe there was someone who didn’t want you to wake up in Egypt. Do you have enemies?”
“Most people do not even know we exist.”
“But some do. Who wouldn’t want you to perform your ceremony?”
“The ceremony benefits all mankind. The only one it harms is the god of chaos, Seth, but he does not have a foothold strong enough in the modern world to cause us harm.”
“Are you certain about that?”
“As certain as I can be about such things.”
“Hmm…Well, first things first, do you see your canopic jars anywhere?”
We spent several minutes searching, but came up with nothing but dust. It wasn’t until I was wandering back toward where we’d entered that I noticed the funerary cones lining the entrance to Amon’s tomb. Sure enough, one of the cones was missing near the top of the arch. I called Amon over. He hoisted me up on his shoulders to get a closer look.
Though it was dark in the hole where the cone would be, there was unmistakably something inside. Overcoming my squeamishness, I reached in and touched what turned out to be a statue. There were, in fact, two statues nestled into the gap where the funerary cone belonged, each about the length of a pen. I pulled out one and then the other, handing them down to Amon.
Grabbing my hands, he helped me slide off his shoulders and then picked up the two statues and examined them.
“What are they?” I asked as I stared at them. One of the statues looked like an ancient pharaoh with little carvings across the torso and its arms folded across its chest. It was a beautiful jade color. Very striking, the piece was probably worth a fortune.
The other was shorter, almost half as tall as the first, and was made of dark stone. It held a large parchment that was torn down the middle. Its shape was similar to that of a heart, and there was an expression of delight on its ugly face.
“They are called shabtis. At one time, human servants were entombed with their leaders, with the understanding that they would journey to the afterlife with their masters and continue to act as servants for the dead kings or pharaohs.”
“That’s barbaric!” At Amon’s confused expression, I clarified, “Cruel. Horrifying.”
“Yes. Eventually this practice changed to entomb servants only symbolically. These statues represent those who would serve the one buried.”
“So these guys are supposed to serve you?”
“In theory.”
“Did they? Have you met them in the afterlife?”
“No. But I wonder…”
“Wonder what?”
Amon lifted his gaze from the statues to me. “There is a spell.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of this. Your spells don’t work out so well for me.”
Beginning to grow excited, Amon continued, “But if I raise them, they can use their power to help us. Do you see? Anubis must have placed them here. They can seek out my canopic jars, and then I will no longer need to borrow your energy. Our connection can be dissolved without risking—”
Amon stopped abruptly and I narrowed my eyes. “Risking what?”
He waved a hand. “It is unimportant. The benefits outweigh the risks. I will awaken them,” he declared.
“Hold on there, Houdini. Don’t you think we should talk about this? I mean, do we really need supernatural aid? I think we’re doing pretty well on our own.”
Amon took my arm and squeezed. A frosty fear that stretched like spiny fingers wove into his conscious mind, a dread that I realized he’d kept hidden from me. I caught only a glimpse of it before it was gone. Though I didn’t know the cause, whatever was bothering him was terribly real. “You must trust me,” he said as his eyes desperately searched mine.
His grip on my arm actually hurt. “Okay,” I said softly. “We’ll do it the sun god way.”
Letting out a sigh, Amon released my arm and winced when he saw me rub it. Reaching out his hand, he cupped my cheek, then slid his fingers behind my neck, lowering his head to touch mine. “I am sorry I hurt you, Lily. It was not my intention.”
“It’s fine,” I replied.
After a moment, he stepped back, placed the two statues on the ground, and launched into the weaving of his spell.
Shabti servants, apportioned to me,
You who molder in corruption,
I summon you from the realm of the dead.
No obstacle shall deter you as you make your way to my side.
Come! Come to the one who calls you forth.
Make arable the fields that sustain me.
Bank the raging floods that threaten me.
Convey the weighty stones that shelter me.
When death seeks me out,
Bear me away on swift wings.
You who were gifted to me by the great god Anubis,
Your duty is to me, and me alone.
Death is not your end for I am your beginning.
When I call you from the east, west, north, or south,
You shall say, “Here am I. Here is your servant.”
Come, shabtis, and embrace your master!
When Amon finished, the little statues twitched, dancing in the dust like firecrackers. The violent movements became more and more pronounced and they rose in the air, rotating at blinding speeds.
Amon gestured that I should come to him, so I darted around the statues, giving them a wide berth, and grasped Amon’s outstretched hand. The cavernous tomb shook, and I wondered if the trembling of the earth could be felt several levels above us by the visitors to King Tut’s tomb.
A burst of dark smoke that sparkled with electric bursts of light wound around the statues, encircling them with thick black threads. Soon, I could no longer see the figurines. The clouds of smoke grew bigger and bigger and then seemed to draw into themselves and solidify into shapes resembling men.
Finally, the dark silhouettes completely formed and standing before us were two men dressed in a similar fashion to Amon when I first found him. The last place the smoke dissipated was around their eyes, and then they each took a breath. When they opened their eyes, smoke still rimmed their irises.
The taller of the two had a short cap of wavy gray hair. His face was kind and open, and he had expressive eyebrows. He immediately adopted a subservient attitude. The shorter one had curly black hair that blended into a full beard. Shifty eyes took in everything around him. It wasn’t the fact that he looked like a pirate that made me mistrust him, but the cold, calculating way he stared at us.
Immediately, the two men threw themselves upon the ground and stretched out their arms.
Amon raised his hand and swished his fingers like he had when we first met and couldn’t communicate.
He then addressed them. “Shabtis, are you ready to serve?”
“There is nothing else in this realm or any other that would deter us
,” they replied together.
“Then I have a task for you,” Amon said with a satisfied smile.
The two shabtis rose from their prostrate positions. The taller one kept his eyes lowered, but the shorter raised his flinty eyes and fixed them upon me, his mouth slowly twisting into a leer that made me very uncomfortable. I took a step closer to Amon and wrapped my hand around his arm. This made the shorter man smile even wider.
“What is thy command, Master?” the taller of the two asked.
Addressing the inquirer, Amon instructed, “You, seek out the resting place of my brother, he who embodies the spirit of the moon god. And you”—Amon turned to the other servant, whose expression was now so full of humility that I doubted my original opinion of him—“find my canopic jars. Also, do not forget to leave a trail that I may follow.”
The two men bowed before crossing their arms over their chests. “We live to serve you,” they echoed before spinning into cyclones of dark smoke that rushed out of the catacombs in opposite directions.
When they were gone, Amon smiled. “You see? This is exactly the help we need.”
“I don’t trust the little one,” I replied. “He seems devious, like he’s planning an assault on us or something.”
“Put your worries aside. Shabtis may not ignore the commands of the one who gives them life. To go against the will of the one who summoned them is the most serious of crimes. If they do so, they condemn themselves to wander the Mires of Despair alone. Without a guide, they will be lost in the Caverns of the Dead, never again to experience a moment of happiness, never again to have their ka reunite with their body, never again to lay eyes on their loved ones. It is a punishment worse than death.”
“I still don’t trust him.”
A faint red light appeared, floating like an ethereal mist. It scattered when I ran my hand through it, but then the particles drew back together to form a loose beam that drifted down one of the dark corridors.
Amon smiled. “There. I told you, he can be trusted. He has left us a trail. Come, Lily.”
I took Amon’s outstretched hand and he led me through several passageways. Very soon, it became obvious to both of us that we were going in circles. Amon’s mood darkened and he tried summoning the errant shabti to return, with no luck. Despite the warning bells going off in my mind, Amon attempted to trivialize the shabti’s no-show and reassure me that the servant must have been restrained from coming. I, however, believed differently.
Reawakened (The Reawakened Series) Page 16
