The Crocodile Tomb

by Michelle Paver

  Just when Hylas was about to collapse, the doors of the Crocodile Tomb creaked open. He staggered out and fell to his knees. Couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; knew only the stones beneath him and the stars above and the night air pouring into his lungs.

  He seemed to be lying in a small paved court cut into the cliff-face. Pirra was bending over him. He caught her spicy scent, felt her long hair tickling his cheek, and her soft hand caressing his shoulder. ‘Hy-las …’

  It wasn’t her. He struggled upright. The sheath at his belt was empty. ‘You – can’t …’ he gasped.

  Meritamen backed into the shadows, clutching her precious bundle. ‘At last I have the dagger,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry, Hy-las. But I must have it!’

  ‘Where’s Pirra?’ he panted. ‘What have you done with Pirra?’

  ‘They’re after you, Hy-las, they’re at the foot of the cliff! Follow this path a little way down.’ She pointed. ‘Take that branch down there to the right, you see it? It takes you out to the desert without being seen!’

  ‘Where’s Pirra!’

  ‘Remember, the right fork! Go!’ With that, she vanished into the gloom.

  Hylas struggled to his feet and stood swaying. He staggered a few steps. He was about to set off down the path when high overhead, Echo shrieked a warning. He spun round. He glimpsed a dark shape on the slope above the tomb. He dived sideways. Telamon’s spear hissed past him and clattered on to the stones.

  At the foot of the cliffs, Hylas made out Crow warriors starting up the trail. It flashed across his mind that Telamon had ordered them to wait below, while he killed the Outsider by himself. Now Telamon was leaping down into the court with his knife in his fist. They circled each other, both trying to reach Telamon’s spear, lying between them on the stones. Telamon lunged for it. Hylas lashed out with his foot and caught Telamon under the chin. Telamon fell, but sprang up at once. Hylas stooped for the spear. Telamon’s knife slashed the air near his face, forcing him back. Telamon snatched the spear. Again they circled. Hylas had no weapons, not even a rock. If Telamon didn’t finish him off, his men would be here soon, and that would be the end.

  The cliff above was too steep to climb. Hylas fled sideways, spotted what looked like a half-built tomb, made for that.

  ‘Running away?’ jeered Telamon as he scrambled after him.

  The tomb was just a hole hacked from the cliff-face, with a ledge in front and a handcart piled with rubble. No hammers or chisels, nothing he could use. Behind him Telamon moved more slowly, hampered by spear and knife. Hylas lobbed a rock at his head. Telamon dodged, lost his footing and slid, halting his fall with the butt of his spear some twenty cubits below Hylas.

  The handcart’s wheels were wedged with rocks. If he could keep Telamon distracted … ‘Bad mistake leaving your men below,’ he called. ‘If you’d had them with you, I’d be dead by now!’

  Telamon climbed towards him in silence. Moonlight gleamed on his helmet, with its rows of sliced boars’ tusks. They were complete: he’d become a warrior.

  ‘That helmet doesn’t make you a man,’ taunted Hylas as he prised the wedges from the wheels.

  ‘And breaking into tombs does?’ retorted Telamon.

  Hylas kicked aside the last wedge and put his shoulder to the handcart. It was laden with rubble, too heavy to budge. ‘Where’s Pirra?’ he shouted.

  Telamon hesitated. ‘Alive – for now. Give yourself up or she’ll die!’

  ‘Let her go! Meritamen has the dagger!’

  ‘But I want you too,’ panted Telamon. ‘If you don’t come down, Pirra will suffer!’

  Hylas’ turn to hesitate. ‘I don’t believe you’ve got her,’ he said desperately.

  ‘How would you know?’ jeered Telamon.

  The cart gave a jolt. It was starting to move. ‘What’s she wearing?’ called Hylas.

  Telamon didn’t reply.

  Hylas’ mind flooded clear. ‘You don’t know because you haven’t got her!’

  No answer: he’d guessed right. With a frantic heave he sent the cart crashing over the edge.

  Telamon’s roar was lost in a thunder of rubble.

  Hylas sped down the trail, glimpsed the fork, just as Meritamen had said. The Crow warriors were still far below; with luck, they wouldn’t see where he went.

  Over his shoulder, he saw Telamon lurch to his feet in clouds of dust. Hylas plunged down the right-hand fork. It was cunningly concealed, winding behind the cliffs and into a gully choked with scrub. He thought of snakes and scorpions, and muttered a quick prayer to the Lady of the Wild Things.

  The cries of the Crow warriors and Telamon’s roars faded behind him and still he ran, but at last he reached the bottom of the cliffs and bent double, hands on his knees.

  Behind him lay the gorge that cut through the cliffs; he’d come that way the night before, when he’d slipped out to find Havoc. Ahead of him, the desert stretched flat and featureless under the Moon.

  It wouldn’t be long before the Crows found the gorge and came after him. But where was Pirra? Why hadn’t she been waiting for him outside the tomb?

  Suddenly, the gorge rang with hoofbeats. Then a shadowy chariot swept into view, heading straight for him.

  No cover, not even a boulder. He ran, zigzagging, searching for rocks, pebbles, anything to throw.

  The chariot was gaining on him, its driver bent low, the horses straining at the reins. They skittered to a halt in billows of dust and the chariot slewed round as the driver hauled on the reins.

  ‘Jump in!’ yelled Pirra. ‘Hurry up, Hylas, let’s go!’

  ‘Are you all right?’ shouted Pirra over the thundering hooves and the clatter of the chariot.

  ‘I am now!’ Hylas yelled back.

  She cast him an uncertain look.

  He was grinning from ear to ear, but he couldn’t help it. They’d been heading west for some time, and still no sign of the Crows. Pirra flicked the reins on the horses’ backs and they quickened their pace. Her dark hair streamed behind her and her small sharp face was intent. ‘Where’d you learn to drive a chariot?’ he cried.

  ‘Keftiu! When my mother was away, Userref used to let me have a go in the Great Court.’ She scowled. ‘Why are you grinning? Meritamen’s got the dagger – by now Telamon will have it!’

  ‘Oh no he won’t!’ From his arm-sheath he whipped the dagger of Koronos and held it up.

  Pirra was so astonished she nearly dropped the reins. ‘How’d you manage that?’

  ‘Luck of the gods! It didn’t fit the sheath on my belt, so I swapped it with my knife! She took the wrong one!’ With a whoop he waved the dagger above his head and felt its power coursing through him like fire. ‘We’ve got it!’ he yelled. ‘We can go home!’

  The chariot lurched as the horses swerved, nearly flinging him out. ‘Hold on, you idiot!’ cried Pirra. ‘And bend your knees!’

  He shouted a laugh. ‘I forgot, I’ve only been in a chariot once!’ He went on laughing – and suddenly, Pirra was laughing too. Whooping and hooting, they went hurtling over the desert, with the dust streaming behind them and the wind blowing hot in their faces.

  Echo swept down and flew alongside them, then swooped recklessly in and out between the horses’ legs.

  ‘That bird’s mad!’ yelled Hylas.

  ‘Not mad.’ Pirra grinned. ‘Just happy that at last I can fly too!’

  Behind them the sky was lightening, and above the distant grey cliffs, Hylas saw the glimmer of the star that Egyptians called Sopdet, the Flood Star. It flashed across his mind that today was the Eve of the First Drop. To him it felt like the first day ever. He had escaped the tombs and the Crows were far behind.

  It felt as if he’d been reborn.

  They reached a rocky outcrop where they would be out of sight of the cliffs, and Pirra hauled the chariot to a halt.

  Shaking the dust from their manes, the horses threw down their heads to cough. Hylas tied them to a clump of thorn bushes, then wedged the chariot wheels wit
h rocks to stop them running away with it, and went to check the outcrop for baboons.

  Pirra climbed down on to solid earth and swayed. Her arms and shoulders ached, and she still seemed to feel the chariot jolting and twisting beneath her.

  Hylas returned with a dead snake dangling from his belt. ‘No baboons, and there’s an overhang where we can get out of the Sun.’ He blinked. ‘Is that a waterskin?’

  She unhitched it from the chariot and tossed it to him.

  ‘You thought of everything,’ he said admiringly.

  ‘Except food.’

  He held up the snake. ‘We can’t risk a fire, but it’ll be all right raw.’

  They gave the horses two handfuls of water each, and had one for themselves. It wasn’t nearly enough, and to judge from the horses’ reproachful glances, they thought so too.

  In the overhang, Hylas butchered the snake and tossed the guts and head to Echo. The snake tasted better than Pirra had feared – or maybe she was just a lot hungrier than she realized – but they ate in silence.

  The exhilaration had worn off. She was tired, thirsty, and beginning to wonder what they would do next. Earlier, Hylas had said they could ‘go home’. But how? They had to find Havoc, and water, which meant getting back to the River without being caught. Then they had to steal a boat and travel the length of Egypt – without being caught. Then they had to persuade some ship to take two barbarians, a falcon and a lion all the way across the Sea to – where? Where was home? They couldn’t return to Keftiu, and Hylas’ homeland was in the grip of the Crows.

  And then there was the dagger. Somehow, they had to destroy it – which meant persuading some god to destroy it. If they couldn’t then sooner or later, the Crows would get it back.

  Hylas sat against a rock with his forearms on his knees, gazing across the desert. He still wore Nebetku’s headband, and he looked very tough and self-reliant. His kilt and scarlet belt were those of an Egyptian nobleman, but with his straight Lykonian nose and long tawny warrior braids, he couldn’t be anything but Akean.

  He felt her watching, and gave her a lopsided smile. She was suddenly acutely aware of her dishevelled appearance, and how beautiful Meritamen must have looked by moonlight. Crossly, she started undoing her braids and ripping out the flowers and feathers.

  Hylas, too, began unravelling his hair. ‘Why did she let me out, instead of you?’

  Pirra told him how Meritamen had stopped her before she’d reached the tomb, and had threatened to leave him there to die unless Pirra let the Egyptian girl take her place. ‘I couldn’t see how else to save you, but I only said yes if she’d set me free. While Herihor took her to the tomb, Rensi and I ran down to the stables. No one was guarding them, they were all up at the tombs. I was going to steal a chariot, to help us escape, but I didn’t know if you were still alive.’ She frowned. ‘I saw the Crows coming up from the River. I was getting desperate, but then Herihor came running. He said Meritamen had let you out and taken the dagger, and shown you a way down to the desert. They helped me steal a chariot. The rest you know.’

  She watched Echo hold down the snake’s head with one foot, and shred it with her beak. ‘That girl never told me the Crows were already on the West Bank,’ she added bitterly.

  ‘I don’t think she knew,’ said Hylas.

  ‘You’re not trying to defend her?’

  ‘Well she did show me that trail, she didn’t have to do that.’

  She snorted. ‘Would you defend her if she was ugly?’

  ‘Pirra. You don’t need to worry about Meritamen.’

  Heat stole into her face, and she briskly combed her hair with her fingers, then drew her knife and started cutting off her dress below the knee. It would make walking easier, and they could use the remnants to bind their heads against the Sun.

  After that, she unwound Nebetku’s spells from the dagger of Koronos. Then Hylas polished the blade with sand till it shone. ‘Strange how it worked out,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Telamon wanted to have the glory of killing me all by himself, so he left his men and went on ahead. If he’d been less proud, he’d have had that tomb surrounded and I’d be dead.’

  ‘Don’t even say such things!’ said Pirra.

  There was silence between them. In a low voice, she asked what had happened in the tomb.

  Haltingly, he told her: about being trapped in the coffin and the medu netjer coming alive, and the tunnel and the shabti – and finally, the winged figure in the burial chamber.

  It was even worse than she’d imagined.

  ‘But it’s all right,’ he said. ‘After I’d swapped the scrolls, he wasn’t there any more, which must mean he’s free – or at least, on his way.’

  For the first time, Pirra noticed that on his chest, he wore two amulets: his own lion claw, and Userref’s wedjat. ‘You’ve still got it.’

  ‘I tried to give it to him, but he wanted me to keep it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. Here. Take it.’

  ‘– No,’ she said slowly. ‘Keep it. He wants you to have it. He must have a reason.’ Suddenly, her spirits plummeted. They might have the dagger of Koronos, but Userref was still dead, and nothing would ever bring him back. And even if she and Hylas did find a way to leave Egypt, they would also be leaving Telamon and Alekto unpunished – and Userref unavenged.

  On her rock, Echo sicked up a neat pellet of snakebones and glittery scales. Hylas went to the edge of the overhang and stood looking out. The Sun beat fiercely, and the desert shimmered in the heat. He picked up the waterskin and hefted it. ‘Not enough for a day, not with two people and two horses.’ He looked at her. Then he said what she was thinking. ‘We’ve got to go back to the River.’

  ‘I know. But they’ll be watching the gorge.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Did you see any other way through the cliffs?’

  ‘I think there’s a sort of dip, like a saddle, to the south. We might be able to climb it and get across that way.’

  ‘If they’re not watching that too.’

  ‘Yes, but what choice do we have?’

  Again Pirra felt the dread in her stomach. Fate, the gods, Havoc, the need for water – all tightening around them like a net. ‘There’s nothing for it,’ she said. ‘We’ve got to go back.’

  The day had crawled by in a daze of heat, and as dusk fell, they set off.

  The plan was to leave the horses to make their own way through the gorge, thus distracting the Crows, while Hylas and Pirra climbed the saddle to the south. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best they could do.

  They approached the gorge in a wide loop, then slowed to a walk. The horses smelt the River and lifted their heads. Silently, Hylas unhitched them and led them to the mouth of the gorge. All was quiet; no sign of Crows. As soon as he released them, the horses flicked up their tails and trotted off towards the River.

  Hylas glanced at Pirra. She’d rubbed her white dress with dust, so that it wouldn’t show up in the dark, and he’d done the same with his kilt. In the gloom, she looked pale and resolute.

  To his relief, they found a goat trail almost at once: steep, but not impossible. As they climbed, he prayed that Havoc would catch their scent and find them on the other side.

  After a while, the path levelled off and the wind strengthened. They’d reached the top. The Moon hadn’t yet risen, but by starlight Hylas saw the dark workshops and villages far to the north. Below him a shadowy field, then the silver glitter of the River. On the bank, he made out a large boat with a splendid canopy: he guessed that belonged to Meritamen. Further north, moored just off a wooded islet, the dark bulk of the Crows’ ship.

  Pirra touched his arm and pointed. The horses were cantering out of the gorge, followed by several Crow warriors. Pirra’s grin showed white in the gloom. Hylas nodded. So far, so good. With luck, the warriors wouldn’t be able to see that the horses were riderless, and they’d go after them, thinking they were chasing their quarry.

&nb
sp; The saddle was steeper going down, but thornscrub gave some cover, and at the bottom they found themselves among tumbled boulders.

  Forty paces ahead, reeds hid the River from view. Hylas’ heart leapt. Among the reeds lay something he hadn’t spotted from the saddle: a small rowing boat drawn up on the bank.

  ‘We’re in luck!’ breathed Pirra, running forwards.

  Hylas started after her. Then he glimpsed Havoc crouching among the reeds. Her ears were pricked, her silver eyes staring past him at something he couldn’t see.

  ‘Pirra!’ he whispered.

  At that moment, Havoc fled, and Crow warriors rose up from the shadows and surrounded Pirra. ‘Run!’ she screamed.

  The lion cub fled through the reeds with the girl’s screams clawing at her ears. But how could the cub help, against so many crow-men?

  Even the boy had run away, he also knew it was hopeless. The cub smelt him hiding in the boulders at the bottom of the slope.

  But what was he doing now? One of the horses had drunk its fill and was wandering past, snorting and tossing its head. The boy was creeping towards it. He was moving as quietly as he could – which wasn’t very quiet – but not hunting, he was letting the horse see him. Gently, he scratched its neck. Then he did something astonishing: he scrambled on to its back.

  Ah, this was clever. He and the horse were galloping towards the gorge. But they hadn’t seen the other crow-men, lots of them, lying in wait at the mouth of the gorge.

  The lion cub didn’t hesitate. Bursting from the reeds, she went racing to his rescue, dodging between the little mud dens of the humans. A dog flew at her. She swatted it aside with one paw and it hit a wall and ran away, whimpering. Three more leapt after her, barking savagely. She spun round, snarling and slashing with her claws. To her surprise, all three turned tail and fled for the nearest den.

  She sped towards the gorge. The boy and the horse were nearing the trap, where many crow-men waited behind their boulders. They didn’t see the cub. Seizing her courage in her jaws, she sprang, lashing out with ferocious snarls that were very nearly roars. The crow-men scattered like frightened mice, and the horse finally caught the cub’s scent and thundered up the gorge, still with the boy clinging to its back.