“Who built these tunnels, then, if they are older than the pyramids?” Burton asked. ‘And were the pyramids built over them to hide the entrance to the tunnels? Or perhaps to mark the entrances?”
“These tunnels were built by those who carved the Sphinx and built the temple around it.” Kaji inclined his head in the direction the tunnel was dug. “We are heading toward the Sphinx now. East.”
Burton considered that information. “Then the Sphinx is older than the pyramids?”.
“Much older.”
“How much older?”
Kaji smiled for the first time since they had entered the Great Pyramid. “You would not believe me if I told you. Long before the Pharaoh Menes founded the first Dynasty.”
“How can that be? Who built the Sphinx?”
“It was carved during the time of the Neteru who ruled in the first age.”
“Who were the Neteru?” Burton asked.
“The time of the gods, of Osiris and Isis. I do not have time to give you a lesson on the history of my country.”
“What of man during this time? Who lived here?”
“Those who came before from over the sea,” Kaji said, which meant nothing to Burton.
The Englishman cocked his head. There was a very faint noise, a deep, rumbling sound coming from ahead. “What is that?”
“The river of the underworld.” Kaji was moving once more. “Water from the Nile flows through tunnels under the Plateau and then back to the river, farther downstream. It is the second Gateway of Rostau; there is one on land and one in water.”
They trod down the perfectly straight tunnel for another five minutes.
“How deep are we?” Burton finally asked, but Kaji was counting to himself once more and didn’t answer.
The Arab paused and swung the light close to the wall on the right side. He pressed his hand against it. Burton stepped back in surprise as what had appeared to be unmarked stone changed and the outline, of a block, five, feet wide and the height of the tunnel, appeared. It didn’t rotate like the others, but slid back two feet, then smoothly up into a recess above.
“How did that work?” Burton demanded, but Kaji signaled with his free hand for him to go through. The other was still pressed against the wall. There was only blackness beyond.
Burton hesitated. “You first.”
Kaji went through, and Burton followed. The door slid down behind him and the outline of the door disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
“Where are we?” Burton asked.
They were in a larger tunnel that also descended, except something was wrong. The light from their lanterns was absorbed about twenty feet away from them, fading into an utter darkness. “I have given you my word that you will see what you seek,” Kaji said. “This is the way to the Hall of Records.”
“You go first,” Burton said, which only brought a slight smile in response from Kaji.
The Arab walked down the tunnel, lantern held in front of him. Burton bunked. It was as if the man were fading from sight, yet he was no more than ten feet ahead. Kaji looked over his shoulder, his figure faint. “You must have faith to go this way. Do you have the faith?”
“I—” But even as Burton responded, Kaji faded from view, the lantern in his hand blinking out. There was nothing but that disquieting darkness—an unnatural black the likes of which Burton had never seen.
Burton forced himself down the tunnel, feeling the darkness press against his skin, as if the air were becoming a liquid. He pushed forward, even as the light from the lantern faded to a very small dot dangling from a hand he could no longer see. He no longer felt connected to his body, to the world. He was in another place, another time.
Light exploded into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. Burton staggered and would have fallen but for Kaji grabbing his arm. Burton blinked, his eyes trying to adjust.
“‘There—” Kaji’s voice was a whisper.
Burton’s jaw dropped. He didn’t notice the pain from his wounds as he took in his surroundings. He was on a ledge along the side of a huge cavern. Light came from a five-meter-wide orb overhead that Burton could not look at for more than a second or, like the sun, it burned his eyes. The far end of the cavern was at least half a mile away. The walls were curved, consisting of red rock, cut smooth, reflecting the light of the minisun.
“There is the Hall of Records.” Kaji was pointing at the floor of the cavern, a hundred feet below them.
“My God!” Burton exclaimed as he saw what was there.
It was a replica of the Great Sphinx—but this one was not covered by sand, nor was it made of stone. The skin of the creature was a flawless black that absorbed the light. The head was larger, the nose not shot off. Indeed, it was larger than the stone one above. Fuller. The eyes caught Burton’s gaze. They were the only part of the Sphinx not black. Blood red, with elongated red irises, they glowed from some inner fire. For a second Burton thought it was alive, a monstrous creature, before he realized it was inanimate.
“‘What is it made of?” Burton asked. “I have never seen the like.”
“B’ja—the divine metal.” Kaji said.
Burton looked around. Stairs cut out of the rock itself led down to the floor on which the Sphinx rested. Its paws extended almost sixty feet in front of the head, which rose seventy feet above the floor. The body stretched one hundred and eighty feet back from the head, making the whole thing almost three hundred feet long. Between the paws was a statue about three meters tall. Burton looked closely - it was the figure of a man. but one strangely shaped, with a body too short and limbs too long. The most startling aspect, though, was the head, with polished white skin, ears with long lobes that ended just above the shoulders, and two gleaming red eyes set in a long, narrow face. The stone that covered the top of the head was also red.
“Who is that?” Burton asked. “A pharaoh?”
“Shemsu Hor,” Kaji said. “A Guardian of Horus.”
Barton had studied some of the ancient Egyptian texts while in Cairo, and he knew that Horus was supposed to be the son of Isis and Osiris, the latter of whom was the supreme god of the underworld.
“And what does it say below?”
Kaji laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. “The black box along the other Road of Rostau would destroy the Highland of Aker. That says that if one does not know what to do with what is inside the Hall within a certain amount of time, the entire world will be destroyed.”
Burton had no idea what the other man was talking about. “Let us go down.” Burton moved toward the stairs, but Kaji grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“I promised to show you the Hall. No one can enter.”
“Where are the Records?”
“The Records should be inside,” Kaji said. “But a key is needed to get into the Black Sphinx.”
“Where is this key?” Burton demanded.
“That information I do not have. There are several keys from the ancients, and each is important in its own right. When the key is brought here, then the bearer will be allowed to enter the Hall. The bearer must know where to take what they will find, or else darkness will descend. Until then, no one can enter.” Kaji turned toward the tunnel they had come out of. “We must go back.”
“I want—” Burton paused He saw something in the other’s eyes. A look he had seen before in combat. A battle lust. It startled him; as far as he knew, he had done nothing to provoke such a reaction in the other man.
“We must go back,” Kaji repeated.
Burton nodded. “All right.” He would have to come back here with a fully funded expedition. He had to know what was in the Hall. He would have to find the key Kaji spoke of.
Kaji headed back up the tunnel, into the darkness. Burton looked back at the massive Black Sphinx crouched on the floor of the cavern guarding its secret and the statue of the Guardian of Horus between the paws. He walked forward, still looking over his shoulder, into the darkness. The last he saw were the red eyes of t
he Sphinx, glowing, before the black took him.
He was back in the tunnel.
“Quickly,” Kaji urged. “We must be out of the Great Pyramid before dawn.” Burton hurried to. follow, his mind swirling with what secrets might be hidden inside that massive statue he had just seen. The Black Sphinx itself was a magnificent find, one that would place his name among the ranks of other legendary explorers.
They slipped through a doorway. Up a runnel. Through another doorway that appeared out of the solid rock as Kaji placed his hand along the wall. Along a runnel. Another hand placed, another doorway as a block appeared and slid up. Kaji gestured with his free hand. “Go, go.”
Burton paused. This was not the way they had come. “You go first.”
Kaji grimaced, then stepped into the opening waving. “Come. Quickly! It will close soon.”
Burton dashed past the other man. He heard the stone move and grabbed the Arab, who was jumping the other way. They tumbled down in a heap, Kaji struggling to get away.
The stone slammed shut with a reverberating thud.
Kaji’s scream followed that noise. An undulating exclamation of pain and shock that died into a whimper.
Burton rolled onto his knees, lantern held in front, like an animal in a trap, Kaji lay on his side, his left hand caught under the door-stone. He was alive only because the stone was so smoothly cut and heavy, it had briefly sealed the arteries that flowed to the hand at the point of impact. But even as he crawled closer, Burton could see blood bursting out of the blocked veins at the wrist where it disappeared under the stone. The flesh and bone on the appendage had to be smashed flat by the immense weight. Kaji moaned in pain, staring at his arm in shock.
“Easy, old man, easy,” Burton said as he pulled off the belt that held his robe around the waist. He tied the leather band on Kaji’s upper arm to act as a tourniquet. He removed a dagger from the man’s waist, slid the handle through the knot, and twisted it, tightening the belt. Once he was sure he had the flow of blood stopped, Burton looped an end of the knot over the dagger’s handle to keep it in place.
“How do I open the stone?” Burton demanded, placing his hands on either side of Kaji’s face and trying to get his attention.
Kaji swallowed, speaking through his pain. “You cannot. We will die here together, Englishman. What you have seen this night will die here also.”
The wounds on Richard Francis Burton’s face grew even darker as anger gripped him. “You wanted to trap me here.”
“You are one of Al-Iblis’s minions. You must die.”
“I do not work for this Al-Iblis. I met him only once.”
“The medallion—it is one that is carried by my people, the wedjat. Al-Iblis kills my people. He took that off one of my comrades and gave it to you to try to find this place. He has tried many times, and always we have killed those he sends.”
“If I was doing Al-Iblis’s bidding, would I have mentioned his name?” Kaji closed his eyes in pain as he considered that logic.
“Is there another way out?” Burton swung the lantern, looking around. They were in not another tunnel, but a closed stone chamber. The open space was twenty feet long by ten wide. The ceiling was slightly taller than Burton’s six feet.
“No.” Kaji crushed Burton’s hope as effectively as his own hand had been. “This room is a dead end. The door opens only from the other side.”
“Who are you? Why have you done this?”
“I am the guardian of the Highland of Aker, what you call the Giza Plateau. I thought you were from Al-Iblis. You speak our tongue and many others. I have heard of your studies of the ancient texts in Mecca and Medina and in your own country. You are a unique man, and such people can be very dangerous. If words will not stop such men, my orders are to take more extreme measures.
“No man outside of my order has traveled into this place and lived to come back out. No man who does not have the key can be allowed to live after having been on the Roads of Rostau and seeing the Hall of Records. When someone tike you gets too close we bring him inside and leave him trapped, so that it appears as if he disappeared off the face of the planet.”
“Where do the other tunnels lead?” Burton demanded. “You have alluded to these other places. If I will not live to see them, then at least my ears can hear your tales of them.”
“I told you of those places to distract you,” Kaji said. “To whet your appetite so that you would come in here with me.”
“You have taken my life, then,” Burton said. “The least you could do is tell me what you know before we die.”
“I gave an oath, a most serious oath on my life, never to reveal the secrets I know until it is time.”
“If we die, then your secrets will not have been revealed,” Burton said. “You would net have broken your oath. You showed me the Black Sphinx knowing I would never be able to tell of what I saw. Let me know all of it. I was your guest. It is the law of Allah that you grant me this wish.” Burton had often used the law from the Koran to get help from the followers of Islam.
Kaji considered that line of reasoning. As he did, Burton took off his wool shirt and tucked it under the Arab’s head, making him more comfortable.
“I want your word, Englishman, that if by some miracle you survive me, you will never repeat the words I tell you or tell anyone what you have seen today. That you will never speak to Al-Iblis. I must have your promise before I speak. I was told you are a man of honor, and if you give me your word I will not have betrayed my oath. I kept my word of honor—I showed you what it was you sought. I did not promise that you should see it and live.”
Burton waved his hand at the heavy stone walls surrounding them. “If there is no other way out, then your secrets die with me.”
“I must have your word in any case.”
“You have my word that I will never speak of what I have seen or what you tell me. I swear upon the life of the only person I love, the light of my heart, Isabel.”
Kaji nodded. “I see in your eyes you do love her. I believe you will keep your word.”
“You called these tunnels the Roads of Rostau. You say you are the guardian of the Highland of Aker. You have shown me the Black Sphinx that holds the Hall of Records. Tell me what it all means. Who built this and why?”
Kaji closed his eyes, and his voice was low as he spoke through his pain. “My order is an ancient one. Going back before the time of Mohammed. Before the Christian’s prophet you call Jesus. Before even those old ones who are written of in the Koran and the Jew’s Torah. Before the twelve tribes of Israel, before the first pharaoh, Menes, before Babylon.”
“You are a priest of an ancient religion?”
“No, I am a man.”
Burton’s confusion showed on his face. “But you said your order?”
“I am one of the wedjat.”
Burton knew many languages, and in his time in Egypt he had studied the hieroglyphics and language of the Old Kingdoms of Egypt. “One of the ‘eye’?” Kaji used his good hand to point to his eye. “A Watcher. In the old tongue, a wedjat. Different names in different tongues around the world, but Watchers nonetheless.”
“What are you watching?”
“There are others who walked our Earth before the dawn of time. The ones who built the Hall of Records. Who placed the Box of Death under the Great Pyramid.”
“Who are they?”
“Ones Who Are Not Men.”
The words echoed off the stone walls and died in the silence that followed. Burton reached down and wrapped his hand around Kaji’s right hand. “You are telling me the truth?”
Kaji nodded. “Al-Iblis. Did he seem like a normal man to you?”
“I met him only once, and it was in a dark room. I could not tell.” Burton did not add the sense of evil he had picked up from the man.
“We have watched Al-Iblis and those like him since the very beginning of man,” Kaji continued. “And we have guarded the special places. Places even they have forgott
en as the millennia have gone by. That is my job. To watch this place. The Highland of Aker, as it was known in the old days. The Great Pyramids and the Giza Sphinx above. And more important, these tunnels—the Roads of Rostau, which lead to the six divisions of the Duat.”
Burton was trying to absorb the information. “The Duat is the sky—the night sky. How can there be parts of it down here?”
“Much has been lost over the years. I know only what I was told by my father, who in turn had it handed down to him from his father. My son will replace me and knows all I know. I have seen only three of the divisions of the Duat, one of which you have just seen, which holds the Hall of Records. The others are farther along the Roads.”
“What is in the other divisions?”
“That was not part of my promise.”
“Who are they? The Ones Who Are Not Men?”
“We don’t know exactly where they came from, but the records say they came out of the skies. From the stars. They are called Airlia. That is one word that is not different among the Watchers, even though the name among the peoples of the world have changed. I believe it is the name they call themselves.”
Burton’s grip on Kaji’s hand relaxed. “You are telling me a story, not truth.” Kaji’s dark eyes locked into the Englishman’s. “I am telling you this on death’s doorstep, facing the final darkness. You can choose to believe it or not.” Burton ran a hand through his coarse beard. He thought of the Black Sphinx with the eyes of fire he haft just seen buried deep under the Plateau. The statue between the paws. He did not think men had built that. In many of the places he had been around the world there were legends of powerful creatures from the stars, of “gods” with strange appearances and powers. If there was anything his travels had taught him, it was that man knew very little, particularly with regard to the past. “Go on.”
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