Journey to the Lost Tomb (Rowan and Ella Book 2)

by Kiernan-Lewis, Susan

  “This isn’t a good place for us, darlin’,” Rowan said. “You need to get up and keep moving. It’s just a little bit further.”

  She wondered how he could say it wasn’t a good place. As she looked around, she could see the prettiest little spring just bubbling and gurgling right next to him. And that light seemed to create the most beautiful halos around everything, making it all glow and vibrate with the sheer goodness of the light.

  “I don’t think I can,” she said sleepily.

  “I know you can, Ella. You have to. Do it for me and for the little Tater Tot you’ve got there.”

  After that, he pretty much dissolved into the mist surrounding the palms that had sprung up. It occurred to Ella that if the trees weren’t real, then Rowan might not be either. But the conversation with him, real or not, had spoiled her joyous descent into the golden light. She forced herself to turn her head from it and when she did, darkness quickly engulfed her. She opened her eyes and could see it was still night. If she didn’t have the strength to get up now while it was still cool, she never would when it was beastly hot.

  The hardest part was forcing herself to a sitting position on the cold sand. After that, she knew she would stand and put one foot in front of the other. She put her hand on her belly to give her the strength she needed and was amazed to feel the bulge. It had grown so! If someone were to see her now, they might actually guess she was pregnant.

  Come on, Tater, she thought as she pushed herself to her feet and felt for the camel’s reins again. Let’s go find your daddy.

  The Valley of the Kings

  Rowan was dreaming of Ella most nights now. Sometimes it felt so real seeing her, talking with her that he awoke with absolute disbelief not to find her curled up next to him in bed. Disbelief and grinding disappointment. But the dreams did more than just tease and frustrate him. They gave him a lifeline to her. Down deep, he knew in his bones that Ella was still alive. The dreams gave him an overwhelming sense that she was. He clung to that feeling to fuel the strength he knew he needed to forge on day after day while waiting for his time to come.

  The evening after Digby’s return, Rowan was careful not to ask Carter for any favors. He’d been pushing Carter pretty hard recently and it was time to ease up and let the long hours of friendship do their work.

  Twice during their evening game, Digby walked by the chess table. The second time, he stopped near Carter’s elbow. After a few moments of silence, Carter abruptly said, “May I help you, Digby?” Digby turned on his heel and wheeled away from the table looking for all the world like a toddler who had just had his favorite toy taken from him. Rowan glanced up from the board and saw Carter shake his head in annoyance.

  After Carter won the game, he and Rowan moved to the dinner table.

  “You’re changing your gambit,” Rowan said, as he flapped out a starched linen napkin across his lap.

  Carter smiled. “I wasn’t sure you’d notice,” he said.

  “How could I not? You set me up from the start.”

  “Ah, well.” Carter motioned for the servers to begin but Rowan could tell he was pleased.

  “It won’t work a second time,” Rowan warned.

  “You never know, Pierce,” Carter said, a smile on his lips

  It was a smile, Rowan thought, of a man who had everything right with his world. He was doing work he loved that he was well-trained to do. Carter was doing work that had already given him a certain amount of international celebrity. It occurred to Rowan that he didn’t know anything about Carter’s personal life. He assumed there was a wife and children floating around somewhere back in England. If so, Carter didn’t seem to miss them much. At least not so that one would notice.

  Digby strode up to the table and took his place between the two men. “Finished your game, I see. Who won, if I may be so bold as to inquire?”

  “Mr. Carter took the day,” Rowan said, spooning a portion of the chicken tagine onto his plate.

  “This time,” Carter said modestly. “Mr. Pierce is a worthy adversary. It is a fight to the death every time. Wouldn’t you say so, Pierce?”

  “I would.”

  “Never played chess, myself,” Digby said. “Always been more of a cricket man. Both Lord Carnarvon and myself were dedicated to the game in school.”

  For several moments, the sounds of utensils clinking against china as the men filled their plates were the only sounds in the quiet of the evening.

  “I was thinking of moving the dig site,” Carter said casually.

  Rowan looked up from his plate. “Yes?” he said.

  Carter shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like it could hurt anything. I have enough workers to dig where I presently am as well as…somewhere else.” He raised his eyebrows at Rowan.

  Digby frowned. “Is that wise? Have you asked Lord Carnarvon?”

  Carter didn’t bother looking at Digby. “This is my operation, Digby,” he said coldly.

  “Yes, well, I should think you might give your patron his due, I dare say.” Digby looked at Rowan, clearly laying the blame for this new course of events at his feet.

  “Tried the wine, Pierce?” Carter said. “Came in this afternoon on the boat from Cairo. Jolly good, I thought. From France, of course.”

  Forcing himself to deflect the snub at least for now, Digby took several more bites in silence. When a second round of the wine had been poured, he made his move.

  “I say, speaking of the boat from Cairo,” he said, “I wonder if anyone noticed my man Abdullah’s return this afternoon from Luxor?”

  Carter looked up and frowned as he chewed. When no one answered, Digby pressed on. “I only mention it,” he said, “because it seems there was a message from Cairo waiting for me at the docks.” He reached for a bowl of boiled carrots on the table. “It was about Julia.”

  Rowan stopped eating and looked at him.

  “I must say, I’m not sure what would have happened if I hadn’t sent Abdullah to Luxor to acquire more cigars for me,” Digby said. “I suppose they would have eventually sent a man to the camp with the message. Seemed jolly inefficient, if you ask me, especially considering how important the message was. I say, Pierce, hand me the bread will you? There’s a good chap.”

  Digby met Rowan’s eyes and was rewarded with the depth of frustration and hunger he saw there.

  “What kind of message?” Rowan asked.

  “What? Oh, yes, well, it turns out to be a very interesting one. Yes, very interesting, indeed.”

  “Interesting in what way?” Carter asked, abruptly, clearly impatient with the game Digby was playing.

  “Well, in that Julia was apparently seen yesterday in Cairo.”

  “Just Julia?” Rowan asked. He put his fork down.

  “Pardon? Oh, I see what you mean. Let me think. I don’t believe it referred to anyone but my own bride but I suppose the sighting, as it were, could have included the American woman as well.”

  “Can I see the note?”

  “Sorry. I burned it. Didn’t think it was important.”

  Rowan stared at Digby. When he dragged his hardened gaze from Digby, he turned to look at Carter.

  “Take your man Ra with you,” Carter said quietly. “And two horses. Anything else you need, let me know.”

  * * * *

  Later, when Ella’s mind had cleared and she had the luxury of endless days to remember and think about what happened next, she would always reflect that, when all was said and done, it had happened very quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it was all she could do to believe that it was real and not another dream.

  When the cool of the night had evolved to the bright hell of another sunny day, Ella did not consciously make the decision to stop and rest until nightfall. In the grips of a trance spawned by hunger, thirst and a numbing, relentless fear, she simply sat immobilized on her camel as it moved forward. If it had stopped and sunk to its knees as before, she would have acquiesced and slid to the ground to sleep in its shadow as before.
But the animal continued to move and she had not the strength nor the presence of mind to alter its movement. She sat transfixed and unsteady on its back under the full wrath of the sun.

  How’s this, Rowan? she thought dully at one point when the sun and debilitating thirst powered down on her. Is this good for you? She didn’t know why she thought that. She must have dreamt of him again. She didn’t know why but she seemed to have developed a plan that was now directing all her actions and thoughts: She would simply go until she couldn’t go any more.

  When the camel stopped on the rise, she stood with him and stared out at the vista, below, not recognizing the dramatic and wide bend of the olive-green river as it lay before her. It wasn’t until she watched four ibises in flight that she began to recognize that something was different. The birds flew high above her and then flitted away over the hill. She watched them with her mouth open. They were river birds. Shaking the fog from her head she forced herself to focus on the panoramic view of the Nile before her. It twisted and sparkled before her like a wild, living thing. She filled her lungs with the fishy, damp air of the river. On the banks, the desert had reluctantly given way to grass and reeds. The camel gave himself a shake and began to lumber down the rise toward the water.

  He’s led me here, she thought and noticed that she no longer held the reins and probably hadn’t for hours. She leaned back to accommodate the downward movement of the camel descending the bank. I’ve made it. I’ve lived through it.

  As she watched the river below, she wanted to laugh outloud, to shout with the pure joy of it. She craned her neck to confirm with her eyes what she thought she had heard. There were people down there. And God bless the whole wide world, a boat.

  The next thing Ella felt were hands pulling her down from the camel. She found herself falling, falling—the very thing she had feared for so long—but the hands that caught her were gentle and the voices soothing. Their bodies blocked out the bright sunlight and she lay on the sand across the firm lap of a very large man who was pouring drops and then a steady stream of water past her blistered and parched lips. When she opened her eyes to look up into the face of her rescuer, he smiled down at her, showing a row of very white teeth.

  “Effendim?” the man said. “Safe now.”

  Ella briefly wondered what his religion would think about receiving a big wet kiss outside of marriage as a way of thanks and then she fainted in his arms.

  When she woke up her vision had a soft focus on it as a result of the yards of mosquito netting around her bed. She had no idea how long she had slept. But she knew she had slept in a bed with soft linen sheets. She knew, although her back still ached and her lips were swollen, that she was no longer thirsty. A young Egyptian woman was sitting on a stool beside her bed, presumably waiting for Ella to wake up.

  “Effendim hungry?” she said, and showed Ella the bowl and spoon she held in her hands.

  Ella looked around the room and then nodded.

  Before the girl could help Ella to a sitting position in her bed, Ella noticed one more thing.

  They were moving.

  “Where am I?” Ella croaked as the girl held a spoonful of beef bouillon to her lips. The girl smiled but seemed confused as if she didn’t understand English.

  They were on a boat. A moving boat. That much became clear as soon as Ella was able to take better stock of her environment and the sensations.

  She was heading back to Cairo! Thank God!

  She took more of the soup from the girl. “Is this your boat?” Ella asked. “Was it your family who found me? Is my camel okay?”

  The girl smiled again, looking even more unsure than before.

  “Effendim?” she asked, holding the spoon up to Ella’s lips.

  Ella drank the soup and felt very tired again. She decided it must be Tater wearing on her. She shook her head at the rest of the soup and sank back into her sheets and blankets.

  “So sleepy,” she murmured. “Thank you so much for everything.” And then she fell asleep.

  Rowan stood on the dock next to Ra and waited for the women and children to board the dahabiya first. He hadn’t even waited until morning but left Carter’s camp immediately, arriving in time to catch the last boat back to Cairo. He had sent a message on to Marvel at Shepheard’s and told her to expect him for breakfast. With any luck, he would arrive before the message.

  The dock he stood on was on the west bank opposite Luxor. He noticed that Ra today did not have his usual bold manner. In the two weeks that Ra had been in disgrace, the young boy had worked diligently to regain Rowan’s trust. He wasn’t there yet, Rowan thought, but he was closing in on it. As Rowan waited to board, he stood with his hands on his hips and watched the boats on the river. Two were headed in the direction of Cairo. Another, expensively outfitted from the look of it, was sailing upstream. A woman lay bundled up on a deck chair, only a small patch of her face not covered. Must be wealthy Egyptians, Rowan thought as he watched the boat disappear around the bend toward Aswan.

  Oh, it was another of those lovely dreams. Ella blinked and squinted against the bright sun. This was the first time she had had one that wasn’t in the middle of the night. She snuggled down under her blankets on the deck chair and shivered. The sun had gone down but the light had yet to follow suit. In Ella’s opinion, it was the perfect time of day in the desert. Still light enough to see but not blazing hot, and not yet cold. She knew this ideal combination of elements typically only lasted an hour or less.

  She wasn’t sure how she had gotten into the deck chair, exactly, but she was grateful for the fresh air and the change of view. From her lounger, she was able to see the throng on the docks as people stood and milled about, loading their luggage, saying farewell to friends and preparing to embark on their dahabiyas down the Nile to Cairo.

  She frowned through her stupor because all the other boats appeared to be pointing in the opposite direction that hers was sailing, so that didn’t make sense, did it? In any case, it would be so lovely if she could catch another glimpse of him, before she dozed off, real or not. Seeing Rowan in her dreams was always the best part of going to sleep.

  She moved her head against the lounge chair pillow to get a better angle but it felt so heavy it fell heavily against its cushioned support. Her throat was dry but she felt too exhausted to even lift her hand to reach her teacup sitting on a small table to her right. What was the matter with her?

  Oh! There. Her eyes found him and locked on and a slow smile curved around her lips. He stood on the dock, his hands resting on his hips, those slim hips attached to those incredibly long legs. He was surveying the bank and the other boats in the river. Such a Rowan thing to do, Ella thought as she watched him dreamily. Always on the lookout. Always ready. Goodbye, my love. Keep looking for the both of us. Until then, I’ll see you in my dreams. She closed her eyes then and slept.

  Part II

  Chapter Nineteen

  Julia prayed desperately that Ammon and his men wouldn’t find Ella. While she had little hope that Ella had any real chance of eluding him, she worried, on the other hand, that if Ammon did return to camp empty handed, Julia wouldn’t know if that meant he had murdered Ella in the desert or just failed to find her. When, a full day and a night after they had gone roaring off into the desert in search of her, Julia watched them ride back into camp—Ammon the picture of mounted vitriol and rage—her first reaction to their obvious failure was shock and disbelief. Her second was, Well done, Ella. God speed.

  When Gita saw the returning group, she dropped the pan she was cleaning and grabbed Julia by the arm to drag her out of sight. For the better part of an hour, Julia sat quaking in Gita’s tent listening to the destruction of Ammon’s maniacal rage in the camp. When he finally came to the tent, Julia watched in horror as the old woman allowed him to enter. Later, Julia would realize that Gita’s goal had only been to spare Julia’s life during the worst of Ammon’s tirade. Whether or not he then chose to beat Julia within an inch of her lif
e was not the old woman’s concern.

  As Ammon entered the tent, Julia watched Gita quickly slip away. It was watching the confident, sassy old woman fleeing from Ammon that scared Julia the most. Without looking at her or speaking, he turned to Julia and pushed her down on the floor. When he pulled her legs apart and entered her in one brutal thrust, she cried out and covered her face with her hands. Within moments and after a long shuddering breath, he lay heavy and spent on top of her. She held her breath and thought she could hear both their hearts pounding as one.

  Slowly, he lifted himself off of her and gently touched her cheek. To Julia, it felt like an apology, but it was just a moment and then he wrenched himself away and was gone, leaving only a wave of chilled desert air across her naked thighs where before there had been such heat.

  The next morning, Julia knew that something had changed between them. He woke her in her tent before dawn and led her outside to her saddled pony. He handed her the reins and indicated that she would ride with him and the other men today. At first, she thought it was because he was afraid she might try to escape like Ella did. But as she watched him ride down to the waiting group in the valley, she realized in amazement that he simply wanted her with him.

  That had been three weeks ago. Today, Julia sat on her pony and watched Ammon and the other men descend into a rocky valley toward a nervously waiting wagon of tourists. All it would take would be a scream or for her to kick her pony down the incline to join the group to be rescued and back in the world of steaming baths and hot tea. But Julia knew she wouldn’t scream. And Ammon knew it.

  Ammon and his band rode quickly down on the small group. There were five tourists in the party. Two couples and their dragoman in a horse-drawn wagon. The women’s dress looked to be middleclass, Julia thought. She watched with excitement as Ammon, dramatically handsome in his robes with the ends of his hijab flying behind him, reached the wagon. Two of Ammon’s men grabbed the bridles of the wagon horses in order to keep them steady.