The Dark Evolution Chronicles

by Cassandra Di Rossi

  “Two men came in with bags over their heads. The boy was behind me talking with that woman,” he replied.

  “The tourist?” I asked, astonished. “She has been here all this time?” We entered the central courtyard from the priest’s quarters and hurried between the columns of the middle temple. Djoser gripped his side and panted,

  “Yes, she just kept talking, asking me questions about my work. Then the boy came back so she started on at him instead.”

  We rounded the last column that revealed the open doorway to the inner sanctum. The boy was laying flat on the ground, blood still pouring from the wound on the back of his skull.

  “Zeus!” I knelt beside him. “He’s loosing too much blood. Give me that cloth!” I held out my hand and Djoser passed it to me. He sank down on his knees at my side as I pressed the already drenched rag onto the gash. The boy began to shudder.

  “It’s the shock! Get more help,” I begged, knowing we might already be too late.

  Djoser heaved himself up again and dashed out yelling for assistance. I applied more pressure. The shaking began to ease and the blood slowed. I was not sure if that was because I was stopping it, or if he was running out. All I knew by then was that the smell and sight of so much blood were making me hungry. I bit into my lip in the hope the taste of my own blood would ease the sensation. I began to feel dizzy.

  An older priest ran in with Djoser. I sat back gratefully as he pressed a fresh rag onto the boy’s head. Djoser offered me a hand up and whispered,

  “Step back a little.” I allowed him to lead me away, just far enough for my head to clear.

  “What happened?” the older priest, Mahu, asked. I shook my head still unable to speak. Djoser answered,

  “I had my back turned," he explained. "Painting the wall. The boy and the tourist woman were talking by the altar. I heard a cry and a scream. I spun around to look and saw two men wearing bags over their heads dragging the woman away. I went running after them but then I saw the boy on the floor, unconscious, as you see. I tried to stop the bleeding for a moment, but then ran to get Cass… the High Priestess.”

  Mahu was nodding thoughtfully.

  “Did the men say anything?” I asked, my teeth finally flattening back and my rapid breath slowing. The boy groaned.

  “All I heard was… they called the tourist…they said…they said; tell the priests we have their goddess.”

  “Fuck!” I muttered. They thought she was me.

  “Really?” Mahu was getting to his feet. “I saw that woman, she was… well, nothing like a goddess.”

  “What matters is finding her,” I said, helping the priest lift the young boy into his arms.

  “I think I know why they took her.” Djoser picked up a piece of papyrus from the top of the altar. “It says: If you want to see your Goddess again, bring all your treasury gold to the tomb of Hatshepsut tonight when the moon is at its peak.”

  I rubbed my hands over my face and looked at the poor boy. He lived at the other side of the town; it was too far to attempt to take him home.

  “Take the boy to my chamber,” I instructed Mahu.

  *

  A short while later I was sitting at the boy’s bedside. His wounds had been cleaned and his mother sent for. I was holding his hand. The room was bright and smoky with oil lamps and burning roses. A priestess opened the door to ease the choking heat. I had sent Djoser home to his family.

  “I must go to the tomb,” I said to Mahu. “It is almost time, and we cannot leave that woman out there alone.”

  “They will not try to harm her if they think she is a goddess,” he replied. The boy on the bed stirred. I lifted his head and checked the bandages. There was no fresh bleeding.

  “Or they will see their mistake and dispatch of her,” I argued quietly.

  “But what will you take, we have barely any gold left.” The priestess dipped a damp cloth into a bowl of water and laid it over the boy’s brow.

  “Nothing of value.” It was true. We had already sold off much of our gold over the previous few years when the country had been poor and struggling. Even though Pharaoh had improved things of late, we were still well below our former wealth.

  “Then how will you get her back,” the priestess looked around at me, her face lit orange in the glow of the lamps. She rubbed the back of a hand beneath her eyes and I realised she was crying. I got up and put an arm around her shoulders.

  “Everything will be all right,” I assured her. Though I was not all at convinced that it would. At that moment I spotted something on my washstand and realised what I could take. The moment the boy’s mother arrived, I took my leave.

  ‘Please be careful,” Mahu begged.

  *

  It was pitch black as I climbed out of the small boat and up the west bank of the Nile. I collected my bag and gave the boatman my last gold wristband as payment, "Wait here. If I am not back by dawn go to the Temple of Khonsu and fetch help." I told him.

  He nodded and settled down to snooze the night away.

  The jetty on this side of the river was not meant for public use and had long since grown over with rushes and reeds. No one was supposed to enter the valley of the dead, unless for a funeral, and I was going to the old part where the ancient kings had been buried. There was little reason for anyone to go there, save for the priests who checked on the tombs from time to time, but everyone knew that tomb robbers frequented the area. I had to be careful that there was not more than one band of criminals out that night. As I made my way up the dusty path I could see that the foliage had recently been pushed back, and scuff marks were on the wooden planks as though someone had been dragged. I climbed up to the higher ground and checked behind me. The boatman would not be able to see me, so I ran as fast as I could.

  The last time I had visited the valley was almost two centuries earlier when many of the royal remains had been moved to a communal grave, in an attempt to protect them from the increasing number of robbers. I had attended, for my Ramses was among them. I did not know many of the original tomb locations, but some, like the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut, were conspicuous.

  The avenue to the funerary complex ran straight from the main Nile jetty right up to the towering rock-cut temple. No intelligent robber would go there for fear of being caught or running into another thief. I could only imagine that the kidnappers were either not locals or utterly reckless.

  I made my way quickly to the huge cliff wall where the temple lay. I had forgotten the magnificence of it. Even in darkness, it dominated the landscape. Three tiers of columns spread wide on the facade like a great grin. I slowed to a walk as I reached the outer complex.

  The structure was vast. I had no idea where the kidnappers would be. I paused before the statues of Horus at the base of the ramp. Something flashed above me. A small orange ball of light flickered between columns. I was glad it was overcast, for moonlight would have caught on the paleness of my skin and brightness of my red hair. I whispered a quick prayer to Khonsu and Artemis and thanked them for the clouds.

  There it was again, a flicker of light on the top floor of the temple. I crept up the ramp. As I passed by I glanced up at the vandalised statues of the pharaoh, her features chiselled away shortly after her death on the orders of her stepson. Despite his best efforts her fearsome reputation was enduring and intriguing. I would like to have known her. I drew a breath and made my way into the gaping temple mouth.

  The courtyard was dark and eerie. Columns loured up in a granite forest all around. I am not often unnerved, but being in such a place as that, so exposed and alone, it sent a shiver up my spine. There was a sound ahead.

  At first, I thought it was a bird or a rat. But then it came again. A muffled sound. I looked around apprehensively. Inside the second-floor courtyard pots of ancient plants remained untended, many had long since shrivelled as dead as the pharaoh, yet others were tall and thriving. I could have sworn there was someone lurking among them. There was a scuffle to my left.
I shot a glance that way but could make out nothing but the plants. I hoped it was a wild cat. As silently as I could I made my way toward a small chapel.

  “Mmmm.”

  I spun around to feel the cold press of sharp metal at my throat. A pair of hands grabbed me from behind. I twisted and kicked. The blade sliced at my neck. I was too strong for the men. The one holding me fell backwards to the ground and the other stumbled into a statue of Hathor.

  The plinth rocked and the statue swayed and creaked. It tumbled. For a moment I thought it would send the whole row crashing to the ground. But it rested against its neighbour like a drunken sailor. I was momentarily distracted as I scrambled to my feet.

  The man with the knife was upon me again and this time his companion worked in unison. They bound and dragged me into the Hathor chapel. Once we were inside, the door was closed behind us and I could do little but glare at them. Behind me, in a far corner of the room, I could make out the shape of the tourist woman in her pale robe. Her hands were behind her back, her ankles bound tight and a gag of cloth was wrapped around her mouth.

  “You have our gold?” The one with the knife was kneeling before me, the blade pointing into my face. I did not care if he cut me, but I did not want to risk the life of the tourist woman. I could hear her muffled cries in the darkness. I gritted my teeth. The second man was holding my arms fast, even though my wrists were already tied. I shook my head,

  “The temple has no gold. We are a poor order,” I said with malice.

  “You?” the one with the knife gasped and stuck the point at my cheek. “You are the goddess?”

  “Then who is she?” the other spluttered, gesturing at Helen.

  “No one. She is a tourist visiting the temple,” I replied, “Let her go and I will give you something far more valuable than gold.” If Helen was safe then I could fight these idiots and escape. The two men looked at each other, one mouthing something, and the other nodding.

  “Not a chance. Give us the gold and then you can both go,” he said turning back to me.

  “Mmmmmm.” Helen was trying to shuffle toward the door. I knew she would not make it out alone.

  “Let her go,” I said coldly, twisting my bound legs hard and knocking the knife bearer sideways. The other tightened his grip on me. He was doing rather well too, for he really was hurting my arms. I tried to jab him with an elbow but the other recovered and pressed the knife so hard against my throat that the point drew blood.

  “You can’t kill her,” his accomplice whispered. The knife went further in. I gasped and gagged.

  “We will see about that.”

  I jerked my neck away so the blade sliced my throat.

  “Let her go,” I said again, spattering blood over them with my words. The men exchanged a glance.

  “What do you have?” said the one holding my arms.

  I nodded towards the bag I had been carrying. It was still hanging over my shoulder, though resting then upon the floor. I prayed it was not broken. I had kept it for hundreds of years. I was sorry to see it go, but it was the only thing I could think of that might be enough to tempt these men. They fumbled about while they tried to remove the bag from over my arm without untying me. I wondered at their stupidity.

  “Use the knife,” I said sarcastically. I heard a muffled guffaw from the corner of the room. The robber did as he was told and cut the strap from the bag. “Open it,” I added when both men stopped and just looked at it. The knife holder carefully pulled open the tie and reached inside.

  “Argh!” he said, dropping it again and staring as though it were a snake inside.

  “What is it?” The other said, too cautious to check for himself.

  “Glass lightning,” I replied. I could still taste the blood bubbling in the wound at my throat, yet it was already starting to heal.

  “What? Where did you get that?” The one with the knife opened the bag again and carefully lifted out the jagged object. The spiky points had become clear with handling over the years. It looked more like a massive snowflake than a bolt of electricity. It was even more beautiful than it had been the day Osiris and I dug it out of the sand.

  “The Red Lands to the east,” I replied. “I dug it up myself more than three centuries ago.”

  “These things are rare.” He lifted it to get a better look. His companion was staring at it in awe.

  “Is it as magical as they say?" he whispered as though it should be a secret. “These things are supposed to possess the powers of all the gods together, and if you pray with it then the gods will protect you and grant you great riches,” he explained.

  “Yes, it holds great magic,” I said. “Those who possess it will certainly have the protection of the gods.” I made it sound as exciting as I could manage. Helen mumbled something through her gag. I glanced over to see her nodding her head vigorously in agreement.

  “Now, take it and let us go,” I said, praying I didn’t sound too desperate.

  “What sort of protection?” the robber was asking too many questions.

  I sighed.

  “It saved a young boy’s life,” I lied, for we had not needed it in the end when Osiris and I had rescued Jonah. Though that was the reason I had dug it up in the first place.

  “Then how come your temple is so poor?” the other asked. I thought frantically for an explanation.

  “Mmmmmm Mmmmm.” We all turned to Helen then. She was bouncing about eagerly. The thief with the knife went to her and cut off the binding from over her mouth. “Oh, thank you,” she said. “That was very painful. I have never been so insulted in all my life…”

  I rolled my eyes. If only she could get to a point without getting lost on the way.

  “You had something to tell us?” The man jabbed the knife at her stomach. She gulped and closed her mouth. “Well?” Slowly she nodded,

  “The temple has no gold because they donated it all to the poor,” she said, staring down at the blade as it pricked at her round belly.

  “Yes! Yes, that is right,” I agreed, beginning to appreciate her intellect a little. Perhaps she was not as irritating as the original Helen after all.

  There was an exchange of looks between the thieves, and then suddenly they were running out of the chapel and shutting the door, taking the bag and glass lightning with them. I fumbled with the bindings at my wrists and ankles but I was not fast enough. We heard the huge bolt scrape closed on the outside. I was about to kick at the door when came a heavy thump.

  “Fuck!” I spat for the second time that night. I sank down next to Helen.

  "What was that?" she asked.

  "They pushed a statue of Hathor over the door," I sighed.

  “Now what do we do?”

  I licked my own blood from my lips and drew a deep breath.

  “Let us start by finding a way to untie ourselves,” I suggested. It was so dark in the chapel I was not certain even my sharp eyes would find anything of use. But there was nothing else to try.

  *

  “Anything?” Helen was on her hands and knees, feeling along the dusty floor for a loose stone. I looked down at her. I had used a broken brick to slice my bindings and untie us both, and now we were looking for another way out.

  “No, not yet.” I was running my hands very carefully over the walls, but so far there was nothing, not even a small crack. The place was in better condition than my temple of Khonsu.

  “Damned Lord Zeus!” Helen sat back on her haunches and folded her arms. “We are stuck here forever. We shall die of starvation and no one will ever find us for hundreds of years.”

  A similar thought had crossed my mind, but in my head, I knew that if we were there long enough, the hunger would get the better of me and I would exsanguinate her to death. Then I would lay starving, emaciated and insane, until one day someone would open the door and take me out. I looked at her neck and considered that it might be a mercy to kill her fast.

  “The boatman!” I exclaimed. “Why had I forgotten?” I
sat down and leaned back against the cool plaster on the wall.

  “What boatman?” Helen was looking at me with hope.

  “I paid him to wait for me at the jetty. I told him that if I am not back by dawn to fetch help. I paid him handsomely and he has enough fear of me to do it... Unless the robbers have killed him,” I considered gloomily.

  “I doubt they would see him in the rushes on such a dark night,” Helen said with far more optimism than I thought possible. Perhaps she was not so irritating after all.

  I closed my eyes and pictured the boatman. He was still there. The thieves had escaped further down river.

  “He will come,” I said gladly. “He will bring help. But it is still hours until dawn and it will take him time to return to the temple and come back.”

  Helen moved next to me.

  “Then we are stuck here until then,” she said with only the slightest amount of disappointment. “At least we know we shall be rescued soon,” she said smiling at me.

  “Quite right,” I said shooting her a sideways glance. “Perhaps we can sleep for a while.” My suggestion was hopeful since I did not particularly want to converse. Besides the air was already dusty and with the door firmly locked it was growing stuffy and tight. I wondered how much air there was left. But then I noticed a thin whistling sound, just like the one from my temple. There was a small gap somewhere in the outside wall. We had an oxygen supply. Helen followed my gaze.

  “Ah, air," she was grinning now. "I have to say, I was a little concerned that we might run out before dawn.” Her mood was so bright I could not help but smile back.

  "Let us sleep a while," I suggested again and closed my eyes.

  “That painter at the temple called you Cassandra,” she said so suddenly I flinched. I looked at the curiosity in her expression.

  “That is right,” I replied, trying to decide just how much she might have observed and understood of me.

  “A goddess?” she asked. I hoped she did not know what that actually entailed.

  “High Priestess,” I corrected, hoping she would not press the subject further. But she shifted so that she was facing me.