by Alan Baxter
“Wasn’t mummification reserved only for the most important?” Crowley asked. “It was a difficult and costly procedure, right? Not just for anyone.”
Rose turned slowly, taking in the vast crypt. “So many important people. I wonder who they all were?”
“And is this the end of the line?” Crowley wondered. There were no obvious doors again, no passages leading away. “It’s possible the guards were at the back to guard this room, if these mummies are all important.”
“So where did everyone else go? Why no returning footprints?”
“Unless everyone who makes it this far ends up in one of those alcoves,” Crowley said, deliberately playing up his voice to sound like a spooky Hammer film.
Rose slapped his arm. “This is no time for jokes, Jake. What the hell is this place?”
Something caught his eye and he pointed. “Look.”
One of the alcoves on the bottom row, in the center of the far wall, wasn’t like the others. While all the other alcoves were uniform and contained largely similar ruddy-brown mummies, this one contained an upright clay sarcophagus. It was designed in the shape of Anubis, and contained no mummy. They hurried over to it, and Crowley gave it a pull. It swung forward.
“Another door,” Rose said.
Crowley grinned. “Let’s see what’s on the other side this time.”
Chapter 48
Lost Egyptian City, Grand Canyon
The door swung gently closed behind them but there was no telltale click of a lock or catch. Though neither Crowley nor Rose paid it that much attention as they stared dumbfounded at the sight before them.
“This is the place that just keeps on giving,” Crowley said.
They stood on a ledge of rock in a massive chamber. Faint slivers of light trickled down from some unseen source far above, just enough for them to see what lay in front of them. Dropping away from the ledge, only a few meters away, was a pit so deep they couldn’t see the bottom. Crowley moved forward and pointed his flashlight down it, but the beam disappeared into darkness, showing nothing but vanishing abyss. A deep cold seemed to drift up from the impossible depths. But the pit, though terrifying, was not the awe-inspiring part of this chamber.
To their right, the figure of Anubis was carved in the wall, impossibly large. Every crease of fabric in his skirt, every line of muscle on his skin, was minutely rendered, the realism of the carving breath-taking. Anubis half-crouched from his position by the wall, one hand braced against his knee, the other arm outstretched, palm up, as if offering something. But from the tips of his fingers on the outstretched hand a narrow bridge spanned the gap of the bottomless pit.
“Well this definitely seems like the kind of place the Anubis Cult would be interested in,” Crowley said.
In the gloom on the far side of the enormous cavern they could just make out the darker patch of a passage leading away.
Rose moved forward, clambered up onto Anubis’s palm and took a step towards the bridge. Crowley spotted the ropes in the center of the structure and panic washed through him. He shouted Rose’s name as he leaped up behind her and grabbed her arm. He hauled her back just as she cried out in surprise, the end of the bridge dropping sharply down under the pressure of her foot.
She landed in his arms and he staggered back, clutching her tightly. They were both breathing hard, the rapid hammer of her pulse apparent against Crowley’s chest where he held her.
“Are you okay?”
She half-laughed. “You nearly dislocated my shoulder, but I’m glad you did.” She looked around at the bridge, now innocently lined up with Anubis’s palm once more. “What in the hell? I thought it collapsed or something.”
Crowley shook his head. “It’s not a bridge.” He pointed to the middle, where a kind of pivot structure was built underneath the narrow wooden boards. From either side, disappearing into the darkness of the cavern high above, a taut rope stretched, thick and rough. The ropes looked old, but strong, each almost as thick as Crowley’s not insubstantial forearm. “It’s a kind of see-saw,” he said.
Rose sighed loudly in frustration. “A scale.” She pushed away from him, angry with herself. “Of course. Before the dead could pass into the underworld, Anubis weighed the heart of the deceased.”
“And it had to be light as a feather,” Crowley said. He looked her up and down, wondering if a little humor might be worth the risk to break the tension of her self-recrimination. As his eyes passed over her ass, she scowled at him. “You been keeping up with your diet?” he asked, unable to help himself.
Her expression of outrage magnified, but she couldn’t keep a smile from tugging at her lips. “You’re a bloody pillock, Crowley!”
He grinned, pulled her into a quick hug, kissed the top of her head. “You okay?” he asked, letting go again so as not to seem pushy. He just wanted her to know he genuinely cared.
She stared hard into his eyes for a moment, some deep emotion swimming in her expression, then she nodded. “I would have dropped to my death there if not for you.”
“It’s okay. You’ve got more on your mind than me, worrying for your sister. It’s more real for you. I’m here to spot the little details.” He raised his palms. “Hey, it’s not like you haven’t saved me before. We make a good team, remember.”
She smiled softly, but looked away. “Yes, we do,” she said in a whisper.
A moment of silence fell, one that threatened to become uncomfortable. Crowley interrupted it before it could. “So, what do we do?”
“We could pull a Nick Cage,” Rose said, staring thoughtfully out over the dangerous teeter-totter bridge. “Roll something heavy across...” She trailed off when she caught his confused expression and looked at him in disbelief. “You didn't see the National Treasure movies?”
Crowley hissed between his teeth. “Can’t stand Cage. The guy tends to overact.”
Rose’s mouth dropped open and she gave him the hand, palm up between them. “You’re dead to me.”
Crowley laughed. This woman was full of surprises and contradictions, but he was charmed by every new one he discovered. “Anyway,” he said. “we don’t have anything heavy enough.”
They both stared, lost in thought for a moment as they grappled with the problem. Eventually, Crowley said, “All we need is for something to stop this end tipping down as we step onto it. Let’s get old Anubis here to help.”
Rose watched as Crowley pulled his climbing rope from his backpack. He tugged hard against the railing on one side of the bridge, testing its strength. It was solid enough. Quite a contradiction to a lot of the furniture and other fittings they had seen through the place so far. He looped his rope around it several times, pulled it taut, then took the trailing end back across Anubis’s palm. Balancing carefully, he stepped from the god’s carved arm over onto his knee, then wrapped the rope around the arm braced there. He made sure to wrap it slightly higher than the bridge railing, near the crook of the god’s elbow, so the secure end of the rope would offer more support. He leaned his weight in hard, hauled the rope as tight as he could, wrapped it again. After several revolutions he tied it off with a secure bowline knot.
Rose looked dubiously from his handiwork to the bridge and back again as he hopped back over to rejoin her.
“You think that’ll hold?” she asked.
“It’s added security. I’ll hold this end of the bridge up while you cross. That rope will be insurance. Then, when you get to the other side, you stand on that end to balance my weight.”
“Good idea,” Rose said. “Until you cross the middle point and we both drop to our deaths.”
Crowley laughed. “Well, when I get to the middle, you step off and hold up your end while I cross the last half.”
Rose thought about that for a moment. Then she said, “I’d rather trust the rope than my ability to hold you up. You go across first and I’ll hold the bridge with the rope’s assistance. Then you can hold up the far side while I cross. I reckon you’re strong en
ough to take my weight. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to take yours.”
Crowley doubted her assessment. He thought she was more than strong enough to do it, but didn’t want to argue the point. If she was happier this way, so be it. The rope would help both sides anyway; it wasn’t especially high.
“Okay,” he said. “Brace yourself and support the bridge.”
Before he could think about it any more, and start to doubt himself, he stepped tentatively out onto the rough, dark wooden boards. The bridge shifted downward, the rope creaked. Crowley swallowed, his pulse immediately in his throat. He took a long, deep breath, kept his focus only on the far side. He heard a kind of thrumming in the huge ropes either side of the fulcrum point, saw them vibrating slightly in the dimness with his movement. The entire structure seemed to move, shifting left and right. A creak swelled quickly into a loud crack and Crowley bent both knees, grabbed the railings either side of himself. His pulse rate doubled again, sweat trickling down his back.
“Jake, you okay?” Rose’s voice seemed very far away.
“I’m fine.” He took another step and found himself between the heavy, ancient ropes. As he moved onto the far side of the scale he called back. “Put a little weight on your end, just in case.”
“Okay.”
Crowley kept moving, the gentle swaying triggering a strange vertigo he had never experienced before. The creaks and groans increased in volume and frequency.
“You’re nearly there,” Rose called out. He could tell she was trying to encourage him, but her voice wavered with nerves.
And then he was across. Solid rock had never felt quite so solid before. He turned, gripped the railings either side of his end of the bridge, ready to push down as Rose started on her side, then lift up as she crossed the center.
“Go for it,” he called across, his voice echoing strangely in the huge, dark space.
Rose licked her lips, then stepped out. She didn’t wait or move cautiously, but hurried directly across, hands running along the railing either side of her. Crowley flexed his muscles, his strength tested as he countered her weight. He was fairly convinced his rope brace would hold either them, but if they never had to test that, he would be happy.
In seconds Rose was across and she grabbed hold of him. He gathered her into an embrace and they held each other again, enjoying the comfort of each other’s bodies. Rose opened her mouth to speak, but Crowley quickly held up a finger to silence her. He tapped his ear. Rose’s face hardened as she realized what he had noticed. There were muffled voices drifting out of the passageway ahead of them. Far away, impossible to hear the words, but undoubtedly voices.
Chapter 49
Lost Egyptian City, Grand Canyon
The dark passageway curved gradually to the right as they moved forward, their flashlights off and tucked away. The gentle glow from the cavern behind reached a little way along but in no time they were progressing in pitch blackness. The voices grew slightly louder, two male voices and one female. Rose gasped slightly at the sound of the woman’s voice.
Crowley put a hand to her arm, bringing them both to a halt in the darkness. “You think that was Lily?” he whispered.
“I think it might be,” Rose said, her lips tantalizingly close to his ear, a tremble of excitement in her voice.
“Okay. But we need to be really careful now. We have no idea who she’s with, how armed they might be. We can’t give ourselves away.”
Rose drew a slow breath and he sensed her nod in the dark. “You’re right.”
“When we can see anything, let me go first. You stay back. Your presence might be our best trump card, so let’s not play you too early.”
“Okay.”
They crept forward again. A wavering orangey glow leaked towards them as they slowly rounded the long, curving passage. They stayed close to the inside wall of the curve, Crowley first, Rose close behind, one hand on his shoulder to stay in touch in the darkness. Then up ahead they saw people. Three of them, wearing headlamps. Two were large men, powerfully built, clad in black. They each had a pistol on their hip. Both wore sleeveless black t-shirts and each bore a shining brand of Anubis’s head on the side of his bicep. Not a tattoo, but a burned-in brand, the scar tissue glittering slightly in the low light of the moving lamps. A few paces in front of them, a young woman. Even in the scant and moving light, Crowley saw the resemblance to Rose.
“It’s Lily,” Rose said in a tight voice. “And the Anubis Cult has her.”
“Looks like they’re making her show them the way.”
Rose made a quiet sound of frustration. “I warned her away from all of that occult nonsense. Now look where it’s got her.”
Crowley put a reassuring hand on her arm. “It doesn’t matter now. We’re here and if we’re smart and careful, we can get her out of this.”
They stole forward again as the three disappeared around a corner. Voices drifted back to them again, one of the males, stern and short-tempered.
Then Lily’s voice, louder, frustrated. “I told you already. I don’t know. This wasn’t in my research.”
Another man. “You think it’s inside?”
Then Lily again, in a tremulous voice. “Yes.”
Crowley shifted silently forward and peered around the curve of neatly carved rock. The three ahead stood in front of a large black door, sharp-edged square blocks of finely chiseled gray stone surrounding it. Then, with a start, he realized it wasn’t a door at all. The blackness between the stones swirled and undulated, solid, like a thing alive. He recalled the story Shepherd told them, of the room filled with a strangling black cloud. Could this be what that old man had described? Could there be truth to those old legends after all?
As he watched, one of the armed cultists wrapped a bandana around his face and moved inside. It was bizarre to watch, as the black cloud didn’t swirl around him but appeared to have tension. It flexed as he moved forward, and then popped back into place as he disappeared from sight.
Lily stared at the black doorway, not looking back at her remaining captor, who also gazed at the seemingly solid portal. Crowley figured this was his best chance. “Hang back, unless I need help,” he whispered back to Rose. She nodded and Crowley sprang forward.
The cultist turned just before Crowley was upon him, his hand whipping impossibly fast to his hip. His pistol rose swiftly in the space between them and Crowley lunged forward to slap it aside just as the man pulled the trigger. The report was harsh, deafening in the confined space, the muzzle flash momentarily blinding. The bullet whined as it ricocheted somewhere, but Crowley didn’t pause to think about it. He ducked under the man’s gun arm, grabbing the wrist as he went, and came up sharply, cranking the man’s limb as he rose.
The cultist yelped in pain, turning quickly to avoid a broken arm, but it was all the space Crowley needed. He grabbed the gun butt with his free hand and twisted it aside, sent it skittering away across the stone floor.
His vision crossed as he took a glancing punch across the temple from the man’s free hand. He staggered sideways, but ducked and drove in before the cultist could capitalize on his hit. The man growled and Crowley stayed low, delivered one, two, three quick body blows. But the cultist was huge and seemingly armored in solid muscle. He grunted against the blows but didn’t slow at all.
With a curse, Crowley leaped back, knowing it was time to play dirty. As the man pumped out a quick jab and then a heavy cross, Crowley narrowing dodged the first, half-blocked the second, taking another glancing blow for his trouble. But, though his ears were ringing, he had the position he needed and turned his hips over to deliver a shattering shin kick to the side of the cultist’s knee joint. The heavy man howled as his knee dislocated and he collapsed sideways. Crowley whipped around a fast right and it cracked satisfyingly into the man’s jaw and he dropped like a sack of rocks, suddenly silent.
Crowley stumbled back, shaking his head to dislodge the spinning lights of the man’s blows, rubbing his aching
knuckles. That guy had a face like granite. Crowley hoped his hand wasn’t broken. It was certainly badly bruised.
He took a deep, steadying breath, and turned to find Lily backed up against the side of the passage, her mouth hanging agape. She did look a lot like Rose, but there were striking differences too. Lily’s features were sharper, her face and figure less full than Rose. Where Rose was athletic and muscular, Lily was wiry. Lily’s cheekbones were higher, her hair longer and tied back.
And she looked at Crowley in utter horror.
“It’s okay!” he assured her. “I’m a friend.”
Before he could say more or Lily could reply, Rose came running from the darkness and grabbed her sister in a tight embrace.
“Rose?” Lily said, stunned. “What are you doing..?”
The question was left unfinished as the first cultist staggered out of the thick black portal, one hand clutching his throat, gasping for breath. His other hand was withered and black, skeletal, just like the strange old man in Cairo. Whatever was inside the darkness, it appeared to have caused this cultist the same injury. But his choking was more serious. As he staggered to the wall, his face was slowly turning black as though dark ink filled his flesh. Through his streaming eyes, he seemed to vaguely register Crowley’s presence in the instant before Crowley’s fist met his jaw and he fell limply to the ground.
“Bloody hell!” Crowley shouted, shaking out his hand and wincing in pain. “What are these twats made of?”
The one he had fought first rolled over on the ground, groaning and reaching blindly for his smashed knee. Crowley stepped back, lined up a kick, and silenced him again. He smiled at his heavy hiking boot. “That’s more like it.”
Lily stared blank-faced, shocked, then embraced her sister. They both made noises of relief and joy.
As they hugged, Crowley looked down at the cultist he’d just kicked, then the other, blackened and still, almost certainly dead. The unconscious guy would surely make trouble eventually. Crowley crouched, got his hands under the man’s bulk, and hefted him over, rolling him through the door into the blackness. It was a callous act, but a calculated one. They needed to protect themselves at all costs. With any luck, Rose and Lily wouldn’t notice.
