The Amarnan Kings, Book 6: Scarab - Descendant

by Overton, Max

  "Obviously disturbed," Al-Din muttered, "But how can I help if he won't confide in me?"

  Nazim heard Al-Din muttering and knew he was watching him but felt unable to unburden himself. He waited, staring out at the riverbank with senses attuned, until he was certain the man had moved away.

  "He is a spy," Nazim said softly. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if Bashir has told him to look for the scarab."

  Don't be a fool , Manouk said after a few moments. If he suspected that he'd have me searched . He put his hand in his pocket where the weight of the artefact pulled against the fabric, but then hesitated. Check to see if he's gone. It never hurts to be careful .

  Nazim got up and crossed to the door of launch cabin, opening it and peering onto the short rear deck. "Nobody there." He returned to his bench seat by the table and pulled the object from his pocket, studying it in the shaft of sunlight from the open window.

  "It looks like an ordinary rock to me. Are you sure about this? You wouldn't try and fool me, would you?"

  That's the golden scarab--feel the weight .

  Nazim weighed the rock in one hand, his expression doubtful. "What do I know about the weight of rocks? It does seem heavy though."

  It is. It's made of gold after all .

  "If you say so."

  I do , Manouk insisted. And that little thing is going to change my life .

  Nazim considered his words carefully. "How? It weighs what...half a pound? It's worth a couple of hundred British pounds unless the gold price rises. Ten times more as an artefact..." he laughed suddenly, "...but only if people can see it for what it really is."

  That thing is a miracle from Allah--and I have it in my possession. With it, I can find the tomb of this Scarab person. They'll never find it, the description is misleading, but this thing, this magic rock, can lead me straight to it .

  "Finding it would be nice," Nazim conceded. "But I don't see how I benefit."

  Yes, you do. Think about it. What's your skill ?

  "I'm an organiser."

  Precisely. And when I find this tomb, I, Nazim Manouk, will reveal that the golden scarab that masquerades as a stone is the tool that has enabled me to find it; then people will see me as more than a lowly secretary. I will have made the discovery that will make all those self-important sons of whores at the Ministry sit up and take notice of me .

  "Shh, shh," Nazim said, waving his hands and looking toward the door. "Don't reveal it before we are ready."

  Yes, yes, I am not a fool .

  Nazim yawned, suddenly very tired. He slipped the scarab back in his pocket and stretched his arms high above his head, arching his back. "By Allah and the Prophet, I could sleep for a fortnight."

  No. Please don't , Manouk begged. Have some coffee instead .

  Nazim swirled the dark liquid in the cup on the table and sipped at it, grimacing. "Cold," he muttered. "And there's a fly in it." He got up and walked through to the galley, carrying the cup with him.

  The crewman in the galley was reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette when Nazim walked in. The man eyed him warily and nodded, watching as the Syrian tossed the dregs of his cup into the sink and poured a new cupful from the pot on the stove.

  "Good coffee, yes?" the crewman said in his village Arabic. "Freshly brewed."

  Nazim looked at him suspiciously, wondering if the man had really said something as innocuous as a comment on the coffee. The man's Arabic was hideously accented, not like the dialects he was used to.

  Don't you believe it. He asked a question about the scarab. He's Bashir's spy . He knows something .

  Nazim shrugged and left the galley, carrying his cup of coffee carefully but quickly to his seat in the cabin. In safety, he drank the strong brew as quickly as he could, not caring if the hot liquid scalded his mouth, welcoming the pain as an added tool to stay awake.

  We must keep moving , Manouk said. Don't give in to sleep. We don't want to see those things again .

  Nazim shivered and looked around the cabin, frowning uneasily. "What...what are they...do you think?"

  Nothing--hallucinations--visions sent by djinn. They're not real. We just need to pray to Allah and they will flee .

  "I've never seen things like them before. Not even in Damascus in that fever dream. Remember that?"

  I'd rather not, thank you , Manouk said, suppressing a shudder. Look, just think of something else--something pleasant .

  "Like what?"

  I don't know. Like the position that will be mine--ours--when the Minister is discredited and the Ministry rewards us. Or the riches that may come to us when we find the tomb. We've always wanted to retire to Jarabulus near the Turkish border--that house we found near the Euphrates with the large courtyard and the olive grove behind and the fields, green and ...

  "Green like his skin..."

  Be quiet...don't say it .

  "Darkness...a feeling as if I'm deep underground in a chamber reeking of spices...a single oil lamp burns and there is...there's movement..."

  Silence. I don't want to hear it .

  "Neither do I, but it's there every time I close my eyes. He steps into the light of the lamp and looks at me. His skin is green and he's wrapped in linen cloth strips. He has a crown on his head and the crook and flail of a pharaoh. He smells of the grave, of decay and...oh Allah preserve me, his eyes."

  Please don't ...

  "It's haunting us."

  Who? What ?

  "You know."

  Manouk shook his head. He stared into the empty coffee cup and drew a shuddering breath. Osiris. The Egyptian god of the dead. A djinni or afrit--maybe even a shaitan. What does he want with us ?

  "Same as the others," Nazim said. He took several deep breaths to calm his thundering heart as panic threatened to grip him.

  We can handle them--none of them are real; they are merely dreams .

  Nazim laughed, bitterness in his eyes. "Even that red man with the demonic head? The one who stinks of dry sand and bones? The one who makes you think of being lost in a howling chaos for eternity? You can handle him can you?"

  Manouk started crying. What do they want ?

  Nazim wiped his eyes and blew his nose loudly on a stained handkerchief. "What do you think they want? What has changed? We have the golden scarab now. They want it back, of course."

  But they aren't real. They're only dreams .

  "You think so?"

  If not dreams then what are they ?

  "Think about it." Nazim waited a few moments while he thought about it. "The green man in mummy cloths is Osiris, the red chaos is Set, the woman with a chair on her head..."

  It's a symbolic throne .

  "...a throne then. She's Isis. I can guess that the green man with leaves is Geb and the woman with the starry body is Nut...lions, a hawk...there are nine of them, so I think it's the Nine of Iunu Dr Hanser told us about. The nine ancient gods who gave Scarab the artefact in the first place."

  You don't believe that. The ancient gods are myths, nothing more than the fearful imaginings of a primitive people, or demons misleading us .

  "Well, you can explain that to them next time we see them."

  No thank you .

  "So what are we going to do?"

  What can we do? We only see them when we're asleep, so they must be just dreams. Demons would appear to us awake as well .

  Nazim nodded. "And dreams like this are the sign of a guilty conscience."

  Manouk shifted uncomfortably in his chair. My conscience is fine. The golden scarab was given to the original Scarab thousands of years ago. She died, so it belongs to whoever finds it .

  "Dr Hanser found it; Minister Bashir stole it and gave it to us..."

  So it's ours .

  "...to give back to Dr Hanser."

  What are you saying ?

  "We have to give it back to Dr Hanser. It's the only way to stop the dreams."

  By the Prophet--peace be unto him--listen to you. This thing is valuable--not just its
intrinsic value, but as a modern day miracle and as a guide to untold riches. We can't just give away what might be our last opportunity for fame and fortune .

  Nazim pondered his words. He took the scarab out of his pocket and examined it again, wondering anew how the golden scarab Dr Hanser evidently saw looked just like an ordinary river-polished stone. "You make a persuasive argument," he said at last. "But what do we do about the dreams?"

  Manouk hesitated. They're not so bad .

  "Yes they are."

  There are treatments we could try--drugs--we just need something to knock us out .

  "I'm not sure I like the idea of not being able to wake up. We'd...we'd be at the mercy of those things."

  Manouk laughed mirthlessly. They're only dreams. And even if they're djinn, then God will protect us--we are faithful, aren't we? They're frightening, but so what? They can't actually harm us, and I'm sure that if we ignore them, they'll go away .

  "You think so?" Nick said uncertainly.

  I do think so. When we return to Luxor I'll get some sleeping tablets from the medical supplies and we'll get a good night's rest. You'll see .

  "And we keep the scarab?"

  And we keep the scarab .

  Nazim Manouk put his plan into action as soon as they returned from the cruise investigating possible sites north of Edfu. He dismissed Al-Din and hurried back to the hotel where he removed half a dozen sleeping tablets from the medicine cabinet, making a note to that effect in the log book.

  Nazim sat in the hotel lounge with a cup of tea and sweet almond pastries, half-listening to the conversation of others, but paying no real attention as he was debating whether to have an early night and risk the dreams immediately, or stay up and face them later.

  Sooner or later, you'll have to face them .

  He looked up to see Minister Bashir staring at him. His immediate reaction was one of guilt, convinced that he had somehow heard his thoughts or found out what he had in his pocket. With a struggle, he refrained from putting his hand over the artefact, and managed a weak smile instead.

  "Something I can help you with, Minister?" he asked.

  "How did you get on today? I expect regular reports, you know."

  "We found nothing worth reporting."

  "That is for me to decide. You just do your job."

  "Yes, Minister."

  "Oh, one other thing--that rock I confiscated from Dr Hanser--where is it?"

  Nazim hesitated, averting his eyes and wondering if guilt showed on his face. "I brought it to you in your room, Minister. I presume it is still there."

  Bashir grunted. "I seem to have mislaid it. Have a look for it, will you?"

  "May I ask why, Minister? After all, it is just a rock."

  "Colonel Sarraj arrested Dr Hanser and Dr Rhys-Williams at the Luxor docks last night. He is interrogating them and I thought it might be useful to have the rock. If it really is the golden scarab..."

  "I did not know they were even in Egypt, Minister. Where are they being held?"

  "At the barracks. Why?"

  "I will see if I can find the rock. If I do, I can take it to the Colonel."

  Bashir nodded. "If you find it, bring it, but only hand it to me. I don't want Sarraj to know of it just yet."

  Nazim excused himself and went back to his room, shutting and locking the door behind him. "Just as well no one can see my inner conflict," he muttered. "Do I 'find' the golden scarab or keep it hidden?" He took the sleeping tablets out and put them on the table, just looking and making no move to take them.

  "Is this going to help or make things worse?" he asked himself, but there was no internal debate or comment. There was a little water in the glass by his bed, tepid and with a film of dust clinging to the surface, but he swallowed two of the pills with a gulp of the liquid, considered his options and took two more.

  Despite the drug, sleep was a long time coming, though he tried not to fight it. He tidied his bed, changed into his pyjamas, and opened a book he had been reading for the last few months--he was still only a third of the way through the book as he kept getting distracted by work. Now he waited for sleep and tried to lose himself in the plot.

  Sleep came upon him unawares, and the first inkling Nazim had that he was no longer awake was the sensation of sand-sprinkled stone beneath his feet. He looked up but saw only darkness with a single oil lamp burning on the other side of the cavern. A feeling of dread gripped him, for he felt the presence of others in the darkness, unknown others who bore him malice. Something moved, a shadow within a greater shadow, and the tiny yellow flame of the oil lamp flickered.

  Oh Allah, please let me wake up , Nazim prayed. In his dream he backed away from the unseen presence until his back was against the rough stone wall of the chamber. He ran his hands over the surface, feeling the texture of raw stone and the chisel marks the masons had left when they had carved the tomb from the living rock. Despite his fear, a part of Nazim's mind marvelled at the sensation.

  Are dreams usually this vivid ? he asked himself. I...I know this is a dream...nothing but a dream . The thought gave him a surge of confidence. "Leave me alone," he commanded the unseen presence. "Go away, in the name of Allah and his Prophet."

  The lamp flame stilled, but there was otherwise no response. Only utter silence. The silence of the grave... Stop thinking like that. Has it worked? I can't see anything . Nazim smiled in triumph. "Oppose the demons in Allah's name and they flee," he murmured. Light, soft and lambent, filled the stone chamber. He screamed.

  Standing before him were nine figures--men and women, he thought at first, and then realised the figures were not human. Not animal either...or...or part ... Nazim saw the green-skinned man wrapped in mummy cloths and recoiled--or would have if his back had not been pressed against the rock wall of the chamber. With him--or it--were a tall woman with a stylised throne on her head, a figure in red with a horrific head, a hawk, a lion and lioness, another green-skinned man sprouting leaves and vines, and a woman whose body was the night sky. He almost missed the ninth figure because it was so ordinary--until he looked full at it. Then he realised that the ordinariness was nothing to do with plainness and everything to do with being human.

  The ninth figure was a man, tall and straight, with copper skin and dazzling white kilt. He wore a pectoral of worked gold, armbands of the same precious metal, and the double crown of the Kingdoms of Egypt. His expression was regal, cold and haughty, and Nazim felt his spirit shrivel as the king's gaze swept over him.

  "Allah, come to my aid," he cried.

  The demons did not flee in terror, but continued to stare coldly at him. He fell to his knees on the hard stone floor and held out his arms in supplication. Words sprang to his lips, words that Nazim would never have contemplated using when awake.

  "Mighty Atum, holy Nine of Iunu, spare me."

  The Nine regarded him and Nazim felt his soul shrink in upon itself. He cowered like a mouse in the presence of a predator, as if vast stretches of time and space beat about him. Anger buffeted him like enormous vulture wings.

  "You have that which is mine," the Atum said. The words compressed the air in the chamber, hammering at his eardrums until he thought they would rupture, though he heard it only as a sibilant whisper.

  Nazim felt his bladder loosen and hot liquid course down his thighs. He could only stammer incoherently, his arms still outstretched.

  "Why do you delay?" the god asked, his expression stern.

  Nazim dug in his pocket--somehow he was still wearing his trousers--and pulled out the golden scarab. It gleamed warmly in the soft light. He held it out. "Take it. Please."

  The anger washed away like a retreating wave and for a moment Nazim beheld the Ennead of Heliopolis in all their glory, and then they too were gone. The light in the chamber lingered a moment longer and now Nazim saw that with the gods gone it was crowded with painted cedar wood panels, with grave furniture, and two sarcophagi side by side. Ivory and gold gleamed and the air hung heavy wit
h the scents of aromatic spices and unguents. As surely as if he read a sign, Nazim knew he was in the tomb of Scarab and her brother Smenkhkare. The light dimmed and then plunged him into a claustrophobic darkness from which he woke screaming.

  Nazim lay in his bed, tears trickling down his cheeks, and shook with remembered terror and the utter relief of finding himself back in his own bed. A distant hammering beat upon his consciousness and he heard Jamal Al-Din calling from outside his bedroom.

  "Mr Manouk, are you all right? Nazim, answer me."

  He gathered his scattered thoughts and framed a reply. "Yes. A nightmare. Nothing more...thank you." Nazim listened and heard a shuffling of feet outside his door. "Good night, Jamal." Footsteps sounded softly in the hallway, a floorboard creaked, and Nazim was alone with his thoughts again.

  By the Prophet, what a dreadful dream . He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and became aware of a cold wetness on his pyjamas bottoms and the sheets. I...I have wet myself... He stripped off his nightwear and bundled them with his soiled sheets, throwing them into the corner of the room, and then naked, by the light of the lamp that still burned, pulled a chair up to the balcony doors and sat looking out at the darkened city and river. After a while, he calmed enough to revisit the details of his dream.

  It results from a guilty conscience. Perhaps it means I should give the scarab back to Dr Hanser. But then again ... Nazim took his trousers off the back of the chair and dug in the pocket. He took out the rock and stared at it, realisation flooding into him. Whether those...things...are gods or demons or dreams, this is not mine. I must return it .

  Nazim sat naked on the chair in his locked room and cried tears of relief at his decision. When, hours later, he drifted off into an exhausted sleep, it was untroubled, and when he awoke the next morning, he knew his course of action.

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  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Dani and Daffyd had spent an uncomfortable night in one of the cells of the Luxor army barracks. Colonel Sarraj had escorted them there from the docks and locked them in adjoining cells, with an armed guard under orders to watch them at all times. As soon as the colonel left, Daffyd walked across to the bars and called to Dani.