Valley of Kings

by Michael Northrop

  Ren, who now spoke impeccable New Kingdom Goofball, tried to explain it all to Luke. “Tut’s father was pharaoh before him. He abolished the old religion — Amun-Re, Horus, Anubis, those guys — and created a new one. Tut brought the old gods back when he, like, took over. And then he was killed for it.”

  “Hey, Ren,” said Alex, lifting the scarab slightly from his chest and lifting his chin toward her ibis. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Yeah,” admitted Ren. “I guess.”

  “Yes,” confirmed Tut, thinking they were talking about him rather than their amulets’ translation abilities. “I am that, too.”

  Alex had a few things he’d been hoping to ask Tut, and now seemed like the time. “Do you know anything about the Lost Spells?” he began. “Or a Death —”

  “You know,” interrupted Tut, slightly annoyed. “I am usually the one asking the questions. If you had —” But this time he was the one interrupted, by a cat. Pai made a sudden leap out of Tut’s lap and headed toward Ren.

  “Betrayed again,” said Tut as he watched the freaky feline pad across the sand.

  Ren knelt down to greet her, but the mummy cat slid right past her. They all turned to watch as Pai sat down and stared into the distance. Her tail began to flick back and forth in a quick, agitated way. She looked like a tabby cat watching sparrows through a window.

  “She sees something,” said Ren.

  Alex tried to follow her gaze, but all he saw was the darkness gathering at the base of the slope. He suddenly got a bad feeling. “Maybe you’d better get the binoculars,” he said.

  Pai was still staring in the same direction when Ren returned. There was something there all right. Pai released a long, low hisssssss.

  “We should get out of here,” said Luke, standing suddenly and brushing the sand from his legs.

  “What do you mean?” said Alex, but Luke didn’t answer.

  Ren was adjusting the knob of the binoculars and pointing it down the slope. They were all waiting for her verdict. Even Tutankhamun seemed to be leaning forward slightly in his modest nylon throne.

  “Oh no,” she whispered softly, as if all the air had just been knocked from her lungs.

  “What is it?” said Alex, his own fear spiking at the dread in her voice.

  “We need to go,” she said, holding out the binoculars.

  Alex took them and pointed them down the slope.

  The day was dying and the sun was half hidden behind the ridge now, but even in the dim glow that remained, the clean white bone of the skull stood out. Pai hadn’t spotted birds; she’d spotted another cat.

  As Alex peered through the lenses, he saw the gaping eyeholes of the lioness skull peering back at him. Shapes shifted behind her. Alex struggled to refocus the binoculars with shaking hands. Half a dozen men, rifles slung over their shoulders, the barrels rising and falling with each step.

  “They’re coming for us,” he said.

  The group was marching directly up the slope. Alex looked around. Their campsite was tucked into a shady notch on a remote ridge, nearly invisible from a distance, and yet their pursuers seemed to know exactly where to go.

  He looked at those around him, living and dead. They were far from Cairo now, far from Hesaan and whispers in the night …

  Tut said something behind him. Alex had let go of his scarab and couldn’t understand the words, but he was pretty sure he knew what Tut was asking. Alex grasped his amulet to answer.

  “It’s a hunting party,” he said. “It looks like you’re not the only one who’s been betrayed.”

  Tut rose from his throne. “Well,” he said. “That sounds horrible. I have no interest in being hunted — again.” He began walking away, in the opposite direction from the one he’d taken the night before. “And I still have so much ground to search.”

  “What are you looking for anyway?” said Ren as he passed.

  “A little piece of me,” Tut said cryptically.

  “Dude’s got the right idea,” said Luke as Tut headed away along the ridge.

  Alex nodded. “We need to go. They’re moving fast.”

  “But how did they know we were here?” said Ren.

  “What does it matter?” said Luke, the strain evident in his usually chill voice.

  They grabbed their small packs and hesitated. “Where are we going to go?” whispered Ren.

  Alex paused. Could they risk the valley? The sun was low enough that they wouldn’t be crisped, but they still hadn’t figured out what spell to use if they ran into the Death Walker. It was too risky. They’d have to head down the slope and away from Peshwar.

  But then Alex looked in that direction, and his heart sank.

  It was hard to see the shapes in the dusk, but he could see the movement — and the rifle barrels caught the fading light well. More men, coming from the other direction. They were cut off.

  “We have to head into the valley,” Alex said, starting to scramble up to the top of the ridge. The last of the daylight bled away as they climbed.

  “I don’t like this!” said Ren. “We’re not ready.”

  “I don’t, either,” said Alex, “but we don’t have a choice. There are too many of them on this side —”

  “Maybe we could lose them in the dark,” said Luke.

  Alex pictured Peshwar, those gaping eyeholes. He didn’t know much about lions, but he knew cats could see in the dark. “We can’t lose her,” he said. “But maybe we’ll be safe in the valley. Maybe they won’t follow us.”

  “Of course they will!” said Ren.

  Alex was getting frustrated. It was hard to argue and climb at the same time, and he didn’t see what choice they had. “All right, so where do you want to go?”

  His question was answered not by Ren but by a rifle. A far-off crack turned into a nearby snap as a bullet crashed into the stony ground at their feet. The Order men were well equipped — and in range.

  The time for discussion was over. The friends reached the top of the ridge and paused for one fateful moment on the precipice. Another rifle crack pushed them on.

  Pursued like animals under a darkening sky, they scrambled down into a valley of death.

  Todtman’s running days were over. He stood on a Cairo street corner, leaning on his jet-black walking stick. He had returned for one last look at the burned rubble of the building. Black smoke rose from the smoldering remains of old boards and older artifacts. Jinn had saved what he could, and now Todtman could only hope his friend would find safe haven elsewhere. His own possessions were lost; his cell phone no more than a mound of warped metal and molten plastic on the second floor.

  Sirens sounded in the distance, just like the ones that had arrived far too late to save this building. Todtman saw a glow in the distance: another fire already blazing nearby. He didn’t know if The Order had found his refuge, or if the dangers of the haunted city had merely caught up with him. He did know this: There would be no more safe shelter here. He had to act fast now, to “force the moment to its crisis,” as his favorite poet had written.

  He pivoted on his cane and headed into the night. The familiar click-clack was gone. Todtman looked down, pleased that something as simple as a circle of rubber on the tip of his cane could aid his mission.

  He knew he would need all the help he could get as he headed into the dark heart of the city. He would find The Order headquarters this night, and he would do it not with the overworked eyes of an old man but with the timeless vision of a falcon. He had one hand free as he walked, and now he reached up and folded it around his amulet.

  The location of The Order’s headquarters in Cairo was a closely guarded secret, but its members were not hard to find. There was a café in the old city where they were said to conduct their business openly now, and Todtman turned in its direction. He knew the city well, and that part of it had not changed in a very long time.

  The streets were nearly deserted as he walked, a city of millions reduced to occasional skittering shadows and
receding footsteps. Todtman knew why, of course, but the reminders were still jarring. A man stood on a street corner shouting nonsense and throwing his fists at empty air: shadowboxing. Todtman gave him a wide berth only to walk into a much closer encounter.

  “No place for an old man,” the stranger spat in Arabic, sizing up Todtman’s crisp black suit and loose pale skin. “An old … American!”

  “Ah,” said Todtman, adopting a cordial tone and responding in Arabic, “but old Germans can be found anywhere.”

  “Do you think that’s better?” said the man. He took a step out of the shadows. Many of the city’s streetlights were dark now, burned out or broken, but the one above them still flickered grudgingly. As the man stepped farther into its glow, Todtman saw a kitchen knife in his hand.

  Todtman gave the man a last, weary smile. He had tried. The blade flashed out fast — but not fast enough. The man was already spinning up and away, tossed through the air like a Frisbee. He hit the pole of the streetlight, and his troubled night came to an oblivious end as he slid limply down to the sidewalk. Todtman continued on.

  Outside the café, a man stood guard. Todtman needed no supernatural assistance to know whom the man worked for. He approached him directly. The man’s eyes grew round with surprise. The guard reached for something inside his light linen jacket.

  “No,” Todtman said, and the man stopped. “I will not go inside this place. I will not jeopardize your duties as a guard. It is you, in fact, that I want to talk to.”

  The man nodded, his hand dropping to his side and his eyes glazing over. The man could not see the amulet Todtman was holding, but he could certainly feel its effects. The Watcher was a complicated symbol. It meant different things in different contexts, but right now it meant overseer. Right now, it meant boss. And a man like this — a hired hand, used to taking orders — was well within its powers.

  “I am looking for a place,” said Todtman. “A place you know well …”

  Todtman posed his question and got his answer. As he turned the corner, the man’s eyes cleared. The guard scanned the sidewalk for intruders, then leaned back against the building. For some reason, he felt like he was forgetting something.

  A cab sped down the side street and Todtman waved his cane at it. The cabbie had no intention of stopping, but he caught the man’s eyes as he passed and found himself pulling over anyway. He was glad he had when he heard the destination: a nearly deserted stretch in the warehouse district near the edge of the city. It meant a hefty fare and fewer crazies. He thought it would be safer. And it would be — if he drove away fast enough. If he escaped the whispering evil that hung over that area like a low, dark cloud.

  The valley walls were steep and treacherous in the dark. Alex wished they could take the secret path they’d discovered, but it was at least half a mile away and their pursuers were too close to risk it.

  He took another step, and the heel of his boot sheared off a chunk of limestone, sending him sliding several feet down the slope on his backside.

  “Careful!” hissed Ren.

  Alex tried to concentrate on his footing, but he was hounded by questions. How did The Order find us? They could have been spotted in town or given away by the cabbie, he supposed. But the pincer move was precise. In a valley rimmed with slopes and ridges, how did they know exactly which one?

  Distracted, he nearly missed another step. He forced his feverish mind to concentrate on the tricky descent, sliding down the steepest parts on his backside. A crescent moon was just edging into view as they reached the bottom. As Alex looked back toward it, he saw a host of vague shadows surmount the top of the ridge. Their hunters would indeed follow them here.

  Luke clicked on his flashlight and pointed it straight ahead.

  “Shut it off,” hissed Alex, pointing up the slope. “They’re coming.”

  “How are we supposed to find a hiding place?” Ren whispered urgently. “I can’t see anything!”

  Alex looked around. He wished he knew what to do, where to go. He wished Todtman was there to tell them. As soon as he thought of the old German, his words came back to him: “From now on, it is winner take all.”

  If The Order got the Spells first, it was all over. And now their forces were in the valley that might hold them. This wasn’t a game of hide-and-seek — it was a race! Alex’s hand closed around the scarab. “I know a place,” he said softly.

  And it was true. Even at this distance, Tut’s tomb flickered on the edge of his senses. He didn’t know if it was the Lost Spells sending such a strong signal, but he knew he needed to find out. “Follow me,” he said, and with no other options, the others did.

  Alex could feel the ground giving up the day’s heat through the soles of his boots as they hurried across the valley floor, but the air had already cooled considerably. The powerful signal from his amulet led him directly across the dark valley, like a plane navigating by radar.

  They paused to catch their breath at the entrance to KV 62.

  “Wait, here?” said Ren, scanning the dark valley behind them for any signs of their pursuers.

  “Yeah,” said Alex. “I think the Lost Spells could be in here. Something is. And remember what Todtman —”

  But Ren wasn’t having it. “Yeah, something is here: bones! And probably a Death Walker.”

  “He wasn’t here last time,” said Alex.

  “Neither were the Spells!”

  It was such a crushing comeback that Alex could only respond with open-mouthed silence.

  “Ouch,” said Luke.

  Alex ignored him and tried to regroup. “We didn’t have time to really look,” he said, before quickly changing tactics. “And we don’t have time to argue. If we’re caught out in the open now, we’re sunk.”

  “Then we’d better find someplace else quick,” said Ren.

  Luke looked at both of them and shook his head. “Let’s just go in,” he said, breaking the standoff. “We don’t have time to find someplace else to hide.”

  Alex made a quick concession to seal the deal: “Any sign of the Walker — even one warm chicken bone — and we’re out of here. I promise.”

  “Fine,” huffed Ren. She turned toward Luke: “But you’re being dumb.” She turned toward Alex: “And I won that debate.”

  Alex didn’t deny it. He’d lost the argument but won the battle. As they filed inside, their backs tensed against the possibility of an Order bullet, he felt a strong urge to pull out his flashlight. He wanted one more look at the symbol they’d spotted the day before. The Aten: the symbol of the sun cult that had been wiped away by Tut’s royal decree. It shouldn’t have been there, and the fact was nagging at him — one more thing he was sure was trying to tell him something. But he couldn’t risk the light giving them away.

  They passed the open gate and entered the dark mouth of the tomb. Alex could finally reach into his pack for his flashlight, feeling the reassuring thunk of the Book of the Dead as he did.

  They washed the walls thoroughly with their flashlight beams, but the first few rooms looked the same as before. There was one difference, though. Buried beneath the desert, the tomb had been almost pleasantly cool on their first visit. Now it was hot. And the farther in they went, the hotter it got. “Uh, guys?” said Alex.

  “Yeah,” confirmed Luke. “It’s like a brillion degrees in here.”

  That was enough for Ren. “Any sign, you said. One chicken bone, you said.”

  Alex protested: “Maybe it just heats up during the day and takes a while —”

  “Alex!” said Ren. “Chicken bone!”

  Alex dropped his head. She was right: He had promised. But by the time they got back to the entrance, the choice had been taken from them. Flashlights lit the valley floor outside, the closest no more than twenty yards from the gate and getting closer.

  The friends could do nothing but slink back inside before they were spotted, risking an unseen evil to avoid an undeniable danger.

  “Let’s hide in the tre
asury room,” said Alex. “In the back.”

  They fled back inside, turned the last few corners, stepped over the piled bones — and the plan came apart.

  The treasury would make a lousy hiding place, after all.

  It was glowing.

  “Let’s hide in the treasury room,” said Luke, his voice a squeaky, unkind imitation of Alex’s.

  “We should not go in there,” added Ren, but Alex already had.

  Ren ducked her head in after him. On the back wall of the tomb there was a thin line of yellow light. She moved closer. There was another chamber behind the wall, a lit chamber.

  Ren stared at the glowing line and realized that it was slowly shrinking, getting narrower as she watched. Alex darted past her and ran his fingers along the edge of the glowing stone. “A secret room,” he said eagerly. “What if this is the hiding place of the Lost Spells?” His voice trailed off as he dug his fingers into the narrowing gap in the wall.

  The wall began to slide open. As the gap widened, Ren realized it was a doorway of some sort, but there were no edges, no tracks or hinges. The glowing gap simply expanded — seamlessly, liquidly — as if the stone itself was yawning open.

  A wave of heat and light hit Ren as the door opened, and she covered her face with her hands. When she lowered them, she saw neither the burned and blistered face of the Death Walker nor the glowing chamber she had expected.

  “Of course,” she said, and she really should have known by now. “Of course it’s another tunnel.”

  Alex took a step inside and then hesitated, his hand still on the strange doorway. This wasn’t a hiding place for him; it was a path forward. Whatever he’d been sensing in this tomb, it was stronger in here, coming from inside this secret section. He knew it was dangerous, but he was drawn to it. Could this really be where his mom hid the Spells? “You two don’t have to come,” he said. “But I feel like everything is trying to tell me something, and this time I need to listen.”

  “Alex,” said Ren, and he was afraid she was going to say “chicken bone” again. Instead, she said: “Shut it. We’re coming.”