The Amarnan Kings, Book 6: Scarab - Descendant

by Overton, Max

  "They are stirring, sir. I think they mean to make an early start."

  "We can move in the pre-dawn," Sarraj said. "Get the men up and ready to move. As soon as we can see, we'll surround them on foot."

  The soldiers readied themselves, grumbling quietly and stretching limbs that were stiff after an uncomfortable few hours. Sarraj watched the east and waited. The sky lightened and he knew that dawn was not far off, but still he waited, falling back on the words of his faith--that he should wait until the white thread of day could be distinguished from the black thread of night. A few minutes more and he nodded in satisfaction. Five hundred yards to cover, time to ready themselves, and then attack. They would surprise them as the first rays of the sun pierced the horizon and illuminated the desert.

  * * *

  Dani stretched and got to her feet. It was still dark, but the eastern sky had paled, the star-studded body of the goddess Nut fading as the sun god approached. She decided there was time for a cup of coffee before she greeted the dawn, and squatted beside the embers of the fire, adding fuel and fanning the tendrils of smoke until the wood burst into flame.

  Behind her, the others started to stir, some disappearing behind rocks to relieve themselves, others digging in the backs of the jeeps to roust out food and water for the coffee. Nick filled the pot with water and added a generous handful of coffee grounds, setting it on the fire. Zewali brought out flat bread and arranged it on flame-stained rocks to warm, while Maroun selected jars of spicy sauces to add to the plain bread.

  "Simple fare, but delicious."

  Marc unscrewed the top of one the jars and dipped a finger in, hesitantly touching the tip to his tongue. He made a face and tried another one, with similar reaction.

  "I don't suppose you've got a pot of marmalade in there?" he asked Maroun. "Toast and marmalade with a nice strong cuppa would go down a treat."

  Maroun smiled and rummaged in the box of supplies. "Can't manage marmalade, I'm afraid, but I can manage tahini--that's a sesame paste--with honey. Flat bread and coffee too. Will that do?"

  Marc grunted and turned away. "I guess it'll have to. Hey, Dani..." He waved a hand vaguely in her direction, opened his mouth and inhaled in short gasps then suddenly sneezed twice. "Damn this bloody cold." He blew his nose. "How long to find this tomb and get back to the delights of civilisation?"

  Dani said nothing--she just stared at the eastern horizon. Daffyd came up behind her and put an arm around her shoulders.

  "Are you alright lass? You seem a bit quiet, a bit withdrawn this morning. Are you worried about getting here at last?"

  "A tad apprehensive, Dafs." She leaned her head on Daffyd's shoulder for a moment. "I've known Scarab as a living breathing woman for the last year and a bit, and now I'm about to see her sarcophagus and the tomb where she's lain for the past three thousand years."

  Daffyd nodded. "I know what you mean. It's like hearing a close friend has suddenly died."

  "Look," Dani cried. "Khepri comes."

  In the east, the first rays of the rising sun stabbed over the horizon. Dani lifted her arms in a salute and uttered several phrases in a language Daffyd did not understand.

  "What are you saying, lass?"

  "I...I said, 'Lord Khepri, you raise your beauty in the body of Nut, you light the Two Lands with your splendour'." Dani whirled and faced the west. "There! Oh look, Dafs--it's really there, just as I...she said it would be--the green mountain crowned in glory."

  To the west, the rays of the rising sun illuminated a low mound rising no more than a hundred or so feet from the plateau, an unprepossessing mound except for one thing--the sun's rays were reflected back in a coruscating dazzle of light. The others heard Dani's cry and turned, staring into the west as the display flared again before flickering and dying away.

  "I say, chaps, what the hell was that?" Nick asked.

  "That was the crown of glory," Zewali muttered. He explained the significance to Dr Maroun. Everyone continued staring into the west as if hoping the hill top would flare into life again, but it became just another desert mound under the rising sun. One by one, they turned away, talking quietly amongst themselves.

  "Scarab selected the mountain topped with the crown of glory as a suitable resting place for her brother," Dani murmured to Daffyd, "and then later, she was laid to rest there too, by Khu."

  "Breakfast's up," Marc called, a few moments later. "Such as it is." He grabbed a large chunk of flat bread and a cup of coffee and wandered off with it. "You eating?" he asked Muammar as the young Libyan passed him.

  "My stomach is a little upset," Muammar said. "If you will excuse me, I'll find a private place."

  "Don't be long. We'll probably be leaving as soon as we've eaten." He found a handy rock and set about eating his breakfast, tearing off great bits of bread and swallowing them greedily with draughts of coffee.

  Dani and Daffyd sat apart, he munching on bread and sauces, she content with a mug of sweetened coffee. Both were still dazed by the sudden revelation of Scarab's green mountain and its fiery crown.

  The two archaeologists stood with Nick as he quizzed them about little-known aspects of Eighteenth Dynasty history and just what it would mean if the rest of Scarab's account proved accurate. Both museum officials were excited at the prospect and eager to reach the hill they had so recently seen, clothed in splendour.

  "Speaking of which," Zewali said. "We should get moving if we want to get there before Colonel Sarraj." He threw the dregs of his coffee on the ground and turned toward the jeeps, stopping dead as a pistol shot cracked across the desert stillness, echoing off the surrounding slabs of rock. He swung to face the sudden threat.

  "Everyone stay where they are."

  Sarraj stepped out from behind a boulder, a pistol in his hand, and all around the little group, soldiers joined him, rifles at the ready.

  Dani and Daffyd leapt to their feet, and Nick and Dr Maroun turned as Sarraj strolled toward them. Off to the side somewhere, they heard a choking sound but paid it no heed. The danger was here before them, and immediate.

  "Dr Hanser, Dr Rhys-Williams, we meet again," Sarraj said. "All of you please raise your hands and offer no resistance while my men search you. If you resist, they have orders to subdue you."

  The soldiers came forward and patted down each prisoner, turning out pockets and even probing boots and hats for concealed weapons. They found nothing, and withdrew, though kept their rifles at the ready.

  "I protest your actions most strongly," Zewali said. "I am the Director of the Luxor Museum and this is my colleague Dr Hosni Maroun. We are here on museum business and you do not have the authority to..."

  "I have the authority," Sarraj cut in. "I have had reports of bandits in the western desert and I am in pursuit of the same. Until I am satisfied as to your innocence, I must presume your guilt."

  "That is utter nonsense," Zewali said. "We are museum officials, not bandits."

  "Show me your papers."

  Zewali and Maroun handed over their identification documents and Sarraj perused them carefully. "They appear to be in order, but it is possible they are forgeries. I will have them examined when we return to Luxor. Who is this man?" He pointed at Nick.

  "He is a journalist," Bashir said. "His name..."

  "Let him answer for himself," Sarraj snapped.

  "As the man said, I'm a journalist. Nicholas Evans, freelance and based in London. And who might you be?"

  "Papers?" Sarraj held out his hand, and after a few moments, Nick took them out and handed them across. "They will be returned when I am satisfied you are not aiding the bandits." He smiled and looked across at Dani and Daffyd. "Your papers, please."

  "You know damn well we don't have any," Daffyd said.

  "Unfortunate. I know you entered Egypt from Libya, illegally. Perhaps you are in league with these bandits from the western desert that I am pursuing."

  "That is a ridiculous notion," Zewali said. "These are respected English academics..."
<
br />   "How do you know that?"

  Zewali paused and then grimaced. "They told me."

  "Exactly," Sarraj said. "Well, I do not have time to waste on suspected murderers and their accomplices..."

  "Where are the others?" Bashir queried.

  "What others?"

  "Dr Marc Andrews and their Libyan friend."

  Sarraj's eyes narrowed as he looked around the camp site. "Where are they?" he demanded of Dani. She refused to answer, and Sarraj gestured toward his soldiers. "Find them."

  The soldiers spread out and moments later one of them cried out to come quickly, that a terrible thing had happened. Sarraj and Bashir ran over, followed by their prisoners and the guards who had not been ordered to keep their charges away.

  "This man is dead," said one of the soldiers. He looked up from where he knelt beside a man face down in the desert sand.

  "Marc!" Dani screamed. She rushed forward, pushing past Bashir and falling to her knees beside the young man. "Marc, what's wrong? Answer me."

  Daffyd knelt beside her, an anguished look on his face, and turned the body over. Marc's staring eyes looked out blindly from a cyanotic face, mottled and contorted. Knowing what he would find, Daffyd laid his fingers on the side of Marc's neck, feeling for a pulse. The moments dragged out and Daffyd's shoulders slumped. "Nothing, lass," he murmured. "He's gone."

  "No! He can't have. Marc, wake up, damn it. What's wrong?"

  "It appears your friend is dead, Dr Hanser," Sarraj said. He bent over and took Marc's limp arm, feeling at the wrist for a moment before letting it drop. "Where is the other man? Look for him. I want him found."

  "How?" Dani demanded. "He was fine a few minutes ago. How can he suddenly be dead?"

  Daffyd examined Marc's body, tears streaming down his face. "You poor wee boy. What has happened to you? Blue in the face, is it? Choked on something? Ah, what's this?" He gently opened Marc's mouth, reached in with two fingers, and drew out a crust of bread that had lodged at the top of his throat. "Eating too fast, or was startled," he said quietly. "What a damnable way to go."

  "Mouth to mouth," Nick said. "It's worth a try."

  "I've never done it. Do you know how to do it?"

  Nick nodded and knelt across from Daffyd and Dani. "Boy scouts, don't you know." He cleared Marc's tongue out of the way and leaned over, sealing his mouth over Marc's. With his fingers pinching Marc's nostrils, he breathed out gently, took another breath and blew into the dead man's lungs again. Minutes passed as he repeated the procedure, and every now and then he stopped and put his hands on Marc's chest, pushing down to massage the heart. Eventually, Nick leaned back on his heels and shook his head, wiping the sweat and tears from his eyes.

  "I'm sorry. He's not responding. There's nothing more I can do. He's gone."

  "He's dead?" Dani whispered. "Truly?"

  Daffyd put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him, comforting her.

  "It's my fault," she said, sobbing. "I should have prevented him from coming with me. I as good as killed him."

  Return to Contents

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Sarraj's men returned from a sweep of the area, and Captain Massri reported.

  "No sign of the Libyan, sir. We scoured the area out a hundred yards but there was no trace of him."

  Sarraj shrugged. "No matter. There's nothing a single unarmed man can do. He's probably just run off. Now, get this man buried and have men bring up our vehicles. The tomb awaits us."

  Daffyd drew Dani to her feet as two soldiers pushed in to carry Marc. Two others took shovels out of the halftrack and cast about for a suitable grave site.

  "Can't you take him back to Luxor?" Zewali said. "He should at least get a proper burial."

  "I can't spare the time or men," Sarraj said. "We either give him a shallow grave here or nothing at all. It's all the same to me."

  Nazim had said nothing since Sarraj's men had captured the scientific party. He had stood to one side and watched the unfolding events, as horrified as any when Marc's body was found. Now, as the soldiers started to carry Marc's body away, he decided he had to act.

  "Bring him back, Dr Hanser," he called.

  Dani's tear-streaked face lifted. "What?"

  Sarraj looked round irritably. "I just said we're not taking him back."

  "Bring him back," Nazim repeated. "Use the scarab."

  "What are you talking about?" Sarraj demanded.

  "There is an account of the Scarab woman bringing people back from the dead," Bashir said. "Rank superstition of course, and anyway, she only claimed to be able to do those things by the power of the talisman she owned--the golden scarab."

  Sarraj stared at Dani. "Why would this man tell you to use the scarab unless you had it? Yet you were searched..." He turned to a soldier standing nearby. "Search their jeeps and belongings..."

  "I don't have it," Dani said. "And even if I did, I wouldn't use it like that." She shuddered. "You know what the account says--the Lord of Death, Asar himself, will release one of his subjects for an hour. After that, they go back into death. I will not bring back a friend selfishly to face such a fate. Even if I could," she added.

  "You're the only person I know that could use the golden scarab," Daffyd said.

  "Not you too, Dafs. I don't have it..." Dani looked at Nazim. "Do you have it?"

  Nazim reached into his pocket and withdrew a small sandstone rock, holding it up for all to see. "If you want it, it is yours, Dr Hanser. It should never have been taken from you."

  "What are you talking about?" Sarraj said again. "That is just an ordinary rock, like a thousand others round here."

  Bashir stared at his secretary. "You have it? You told me it was lost."

  "And now I have it, and intend to return it to its rightful owner. Take it, Dr Hanser."

  "No."

  "No?" Now it was Daffyd's turn to stare in amazement. "It's what you came to Egypt for--to reclaim your property."

  Dani shook her head. "Of course I want it, but I can't take it. Not now. I...I'm afraid if I take it, I'll use it to bring M...Marc back and..." Tears streamed down her face again. "...and that's just wrong."

  "Give it to me," Sarraj demanded.

  "No," Nazim said.

  "You defy me?" Sarraj gestured. "Bring me that rock."

  "Colonel, wait," Bashir interjected. "Don't be misled, this is a delaying tactic. While we argue here about some impossible artefact, and what it might be able to do, who knows what this missing man is doing. He could be summoning help or doing something to the tomb." Bashir pointed to the halftrack which was just arriving, its caterpillar treads grinding over the rocks. "We should leave right away."

  Nazim stepped around Sarraj and moved closer to Dani and Daffyd. "Use it Dr Hanser. Bring back your friend."

  "Don't tempt me," Dani groaned. "I can feel it call to me."

  "Use it, Dr Hanser."

  "I told you, no. To use it like that is evil. I won't subject Marc to the horrors of being called back, knowing he must die again after an hour."

  "Actually, I think he might be right," Daffyd said. "Wait lass, before you fly off the handle, hear me out." He drew Dani to one side and turned her so she was not looking at Marc's body. The soldiers had carried him to a patch of soft sand and were knee-deep in the hole they had dug. Nazim followed, edging close and listening.

  "Think back to the only description we have of Scarab bringing someone back from the dead. It was in the eastern desert when she was pursuing Nakhtmin. She ambushed those soldiers, but her men killed everyone before she could question them..."

  "How could I forget? It was horrible. The man came back to life having faced his gods already, wounds gaping and the horror of his situation plastered across his face. Then after an hour he died, knowing his fate. I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy, let alone a friend."

  "That's just it, lass. That man died again because the wounds he received in battle were too severe for him to survi
ve without Asar's power. But Marc choked. Nick took the bread out of his throat and now there's nothing to keep him dead. All he needs is for life to be breathed back into him."

  Dani sniffed loudly. "Except he's really dead and Nick couldn't revive him even with his own breath."

  "But you can. Or rather, Asar can, through the power of the golden scarab."

  "I won't deny the power of the gods, but Scarab could do these things--not me."

  "How do you know unless you try? You've used it to find things and it disguises itself. Ask Nazim."

  "That is true, Dr Hanser. I see only a plain rock."

  Dani looked round at Nazim and then at Marc's body. "Even if I did, and it worked, his brain's been without oxygen too long. He'd be brain damaged."

  Daffyd smiled. "If you can bring him back from the dead through the power of Asar, you can certainly heal him through the power of Geb. This is Marc we're talking about--our friend. Doesn't he deserve our every effort?"

  Dawning hope shone from Dani's eyes. "It...it might be possible."

  Nazim held out the rock. "Take it, Dr Hanser. It belongs to you. Use it to save your friend."

  Dani hesitated, but then reached out, accepting Nazim's gift. As her fingers touched the rock, there was a flash of gold, hidden as her hand closed around it. She heard a gasp from the men around her and knew that others had caught a glimpse of the golden scarab's true nature. Dani closed her eyes and felt the thrill of power in her hand, but she quashed it, thrust it down, accepting it only as a token of the gods' favour.

  She opened her eyes and saw Sarraj and Bashir before her. Their eyes glittered with avarice, and Sarraj held out his hand, demanding she hand it over. Without a word, she stepped between them and ran to where the soldiers were starting to lower Marc's body into the makeshift grave.