The Tomb Builders

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘Come on,’ said Brandon and helped India clamber down to the lower ledge. ‘That way,’ he said pointing to the dark opening at the junction of the ledge and the cliff face. India bent to her knees and crawled through the hole.

  ‘Wait there,’ said a voice and they stood in the dark until their eyes were momentarily blinded with the flare of a match. John lit three oil lamps and handed one to each of them.

  ‘Follow me,’ he said, ‘but watch your footing.’ He turned and walked away. For the next hour or so they descended through winding passages, some natural and some man made. Finally they heard the sound of running water and entered a large cavern, split in half by a small stream. ‘We’ll rest here,’ said John. ‘I have some food in a pack over there and the water is clean enough to drink. We can’t stay long but catch your breath, we’ll start again in ten minutes or so.’

  Brandon went to retrieve the pack of food but India remained with the strange man. His jet black hair fell down past his shoulders from beneath a leather hat and he wore a denim waistcoat over a red checked shirt.

  ‘Are you okay, Miss Sommers?’ he asked.

  India’s eyes widened at the mention of her name.

  ‘How do you know who I am?’ she asked.

  ‘I have been looking for you for the last twelve hours,’ he said, ‘several of us have.’

  ‘Who are you?’ asked India.

  ‘As I have already said, my name is John, and though you don’t know me, you know my son. His name is Lanu, and two days ago, you saved his life.’

  ‘The baby?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied John, ‘I was leading a tour in the canyon when it happened and didn’t return until late. I came over to thank you but the Winnebago was empty. The door was wide open so I went in and saw the stove was left on. I knew instantly that something was wrong.’

  ‘But how did you find us down here?’

  ‘I found out which hospital your friend was in and called him to get your phone number. When I explained I thought you were in danger, he told me everything. After that it was simple, we are a small community and soon found out that one of the men from the next town flew a party of five into the canyon, a highly illegal practise but often done if the price is right. Anyway, as soon as I knew where you were headed the rest was easy but the quickest way up was via these tunnels rather than to climb the outside.’

  ‘What is this place?’ asked India.

  ‘They are the tunnels of my ancestors,’ said John. ‘There are many such places and they are holy to us. That is why I must ask you to say nothing of this place.’

  ‘We won’t breathe a word,’ said India, ‘I promise.’

  ‘I believe you,’ said John. ‘Now get something to eat and we can be on our way.’

  ----

  The path led further down into the heart of the mountain and India reckoned they were now lower than the valley floor itself. Finally it levelled off and they walked through large caverns before it started to rise once more. Again they stopped for a break and all three sat against a cavern wall eating the last of the food John had brought with him.

  ‘So, John,’ said Brandon, ‘I understand your ancestors once lived in these caves.’

  ‘They did,’ said John, ‘for many generations.’

  ‘Can you tell us something about your history,’ asked India, ‘I’d love to know.’

  ‘The stories say that long ago, all Hopi lived beneath the ground,’ said John, ‘until there was a great split amongst the people and half left the mountains to live beneath the sky. The people of the outside worshipped the sun god while those who remained prayed to the spider mother. For many generations both tribes went their own way, that was in the time of the third world but the gods were angry and sent a great flood to destroy the Earth. Those who had stayed in the tunnels perished in the flood as did all things but those beneath the sun survived and came back to the caves to find their brothers. It was too late for all had gone and so came the fourth world where the worshippers of the sun lived both above and below ground, in honour of their ancestors. To this day, many of the old men still make a pilgrimage to these tunnels looking for their ancestors and it is said that one day they will be reunited.’

  ‘A nice story,’ said India.

  ‘It is more than a story,’ said John, ‘for it was the way it was. Our people keep these tales to themselves and many of the tunnels are closed to stop outsiders wandering the places of our ancestors. Only the Hopi know the old ways.’

  ‘But surely after all this time, your people would have found any proof of your ancestors?’ said Brandon.

  ‘I did not say they haven’t,’ said John, ‘for many bodies lay within these cliffs. Some are not of our tribe and though they were placed here many lifetimes ago by our grandfathers, they are still revered as part of the ash from which we have been formed.’

  ‘What do you mean not of your tribe?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘The stories say that long ago, a great king came to be buried in the mountains but the river gods were angry for a priest proclaimed himself better than the spirits and they sent a storm to wash them from the holy places. Many were killed but some were rescued by our people and they grew together as one people.’

  ‘What king?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘The king of a place across the ocean,’ said John.

  ‘And was he too washed away?’ asked India.

  ‘No, the gods saw fit to spare his body and those of his people who survived, made for him a tomb such has never been seen before or since.’

  ‘John,’ said India, ‘I realise we are asking a lot, but is there any way you could take us to that tomb?’

  ‘And why would you want to go there, Miss Sommers? For if it is to steal away our heritage, then you do yourself an injustice. Robbing tombs is the path of the cursed, let him lay in peace amongst his people and enjoy the treasures that are their memories.’

  I agree,’ said India, ‘and I swear not a speck of dust will be removed from this place but it would be good to pay our respects at the tomb of someone who made the great journey before us.’

  John looked at her for a while.

  ‘Miss Sommers,’ he said, eventually, ‘the halls of the Anasazi are indeed a spiritual place, but within them also lie the bodies of my ancestors. It is a great thing that you ask but I owe my son’s life to you and your friends. With this in mind, I will show you the tombs but will trust upon the life of my son that you will keep the knowledge to yourself.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ asked India.

  ‘It means that should you decide to betray this trust, then both my life and that of my son will be forfeit. If that is a cost that your soul can bear, then I will show you the way.’

  ‘You would kill your son?’ asked India

  ‘If it was known that it was I who betrayed our people, then I would be honour bound.’

  ‘I will never tell a soul, John,’ said India, ‘I swear by all that I hold sacred.’

  ‘And what of you, Mr Walker? Do you have a god to whom you can make such a pledge?’

  ‘I do,’ said Brandon, ‘it’s called my word.’

  John nodded slowly.

  ‘Then so be it,’ he said, ‘stand and turn up the wicks of your lamps.’

  They both did as they were told and waited for directions.

  ‘Well,’ said Brandon impatiently, ‘which way are we going?’

  ‘Open your eyes, blind one,’ answered John, ‘and witness things you should not see.’ He turned around and cast the glow of his lamp to the nearest walls.

  The light illuminated the entrance to a tunnel, but India gasped in astonishment at the large stone carving guarding the entrance, a perfectly formed statue of a Sphinx.

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  Chapter Twenty Nine

  The Lands of the Sinagua

  2600 BC

  Sagira adjusted the large cape covering her and Adio. It had been spread over them by Mensah hours earlier and despite being cold and wet, the
children had finally managed to get some sleep. Slowly her eyes opened and the first thing she realised was that it had stopped raining. Quickly she sat up and looked down toward the river, relieved that the level seemed to be falling.

  ‘Adio,’ she said, ‘wake up. The storm has ended, the gods are appeased.’ Adio sat up alongside her and they stared at the devastation around them.

  The entire valley floor was a tangle of broken trees and bushes and hanging amongst them like macabre fruit were scores of dead Kushnis, victims of the river’s indiscriminate brutality.

  ‘So many are dead,’ whispered Sagira.

  ‘Look,’ said Adio, pointing at a far slope beyond the river, ‘there’s someone moving.’

  Sagira followed his gaze and gradually became aware of more people extracting themselves from whatever shelter they had sought. These were the lucky ones, the ones who had managed to reach safety in time but over three quarters of the Kushnis had perished, taken by the brutal river.

  ‘Where is Mensah?’ asked Adio.

  ‘There,’ said Sagira, pointing down to the two soldiers walking carefully along the bank of the river, ‘come, let’s join them.’ Quickly they climbed down from the rocks and run to catch up with Mensah and Manu.

  ‘Mensah,’ said Sagira when they reached the soldiers, ‘we have truly been blessed by Ra.’

  ‘We have,’ said Mensah, ‘but many have fallen. We need to find as many bodies as we can and read the book of the dead above them so they can find their way to the halls of Ma’at.’

  ‘What of Haji?’ asked Adio, ‘does he still live?’

  ‘I know not,’ said Mensah, ‘we are still looking.’

  ‘I know,’ said Manu, ‘and the answer is no, Anubis has claimed his soul.’ He pointed with his spear and they all looked up to see the body of Haji entangled in the limbs of a dead tree, a spiked branch sticking out from his chest.

  ----

  Two days later the remnants of the Kushnis assembled at the fork in the river. They had retrieved whatever they could from their devastated possessions and though what was left was meagre, the greatest thing was that some had managed to protect the king’s casket and it lay before them, a holy reminder of the purpose of their journey.

  Mensah held up his spear to command silence. As he had been the closest to Haji, many of the Kushni now looked to him for leadership.

  ‘People of Khemet,’ he said, ‘we have survived a storm such as we have never seen before. Many of our brothers lie dead around us as does our leader, Haji, High priest of Khufu. But let not this setback add weight to your hearts for we have been spared for a reason, and that is to finish what we came to do.’

  He looked down at the casket.

  ‘Our king lies before us, waiting to meet his destiny. The mountain behind us was truly formed by the hand of Atum and it is in this place where we shall build his tomb. When it is done, we will spend the rest of our days seeking out those treasures washed away by the river, even unto death. When our spirits have heard the book of the dead, let our children continue the search for we will never cease. So I say this, go forth upon this mountain and find a holy place to lay our king.’ He bent down to pick up a handful of red dust and let it slip through his fingers. ‘Let this place be the last resting place of Khnum Khufu.’

  ----

  Up above the river, Hopachi watched the strangers gather around the bodies of their fellow travellers. Pishawni stood alongside him, adorned in a full ceremonial headdress of eagle feathers. Behind them, the women of the tribe waited patiently, their baskets full of dried fish and berries that formed their staple diet.

  ‘The river god has made his wishes clear,’ said Hopachi, ‘for he spared these people from his wrath. Our path is clear, Pishawni, we will welcome them to our fires.’

  ‘Let it be done,’ said Pishawni and with a wave of his hand, the women filed past to descend to the Egyptians below.

  ----

  Chapter Thirty

  The Tunnels of the Hopi

  2014

  ‘Oh my god,’ whispered India, ‘then it is true after all. The treasures are really down here.’

  ‘The real treasure is in the memories,’ said John, ‘not the value of the gold.’

  ‘Still,’ said Brandon shining his lamp around the tunnel, ‘people would pay a fortune just to see this stuff.’ As they walked the lamp’s glow lit up dozens of fully wrapped mummies set back into alcoves cut into the stone walls. At the feet of each were Coptic jars, the clay pots containing the dried entrails of those who had been prepared for the afterlife.

  ‘John,’ said India quietly, ‘are these your ancestors? ‘

  ‘These were the travellers,’ said John, ‘the Anasazi. Our grandfathers say that as they died, their descendants treated them in this way. After many generations the practise died out and their descendants became our ancestors. These days our dead must be recorded in the papers of governments but sometimes our chiefs are still brought down here.’ He held up his lamp to illuminate a side chamber and they could see dozens more bodies laid out in shallow coffins though this time with their faces exposed. ‘This is the way of our people,’ he said.

  ‘This must be a special place for you,’ said India.

  ‘It is,’ said John as they continued deeper into the tomb.

  The further they went the more they saw. Carvings and statuettes lined the walls, representations of the entire Egyptian pantheon and piles of copper weapon heads were scattered along the way, their wooden handles long rotted into dust. Eventually they came to a final cavern, lined with Egyptian mummies. At the end, two stone caskets stood slightly apart from the others. The lids were intact and each had a carving of an Egyptian soldier holding a spear.’

  ‘These we call the guardians,’ said John, ‘it is said they were warriors and they wait for the king to arise from the dead.’

  ‘And when is that supposed to happen?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘At the beginning of the fifth world,’ said John, ‘all the dead will arise and take their true place amongst the living.’

  ‘So where is this king?’ asked India.

  ‘There,’ said John pointing at the final tunnel. ‘He lies in peace, surrounded by the riches of all time. It is said that there is more gold than a man can imagine and jewels are piled higher than a man’s head. Statues of gold guard his coffin and animals carved from solid gemstones protect him from the spirits of the night.’

  ‘Can we go in?’ asked India.

  ‘You can but the tunnel ends quickly. Be careful for a shaft opens up before you and it is said it reaches the centre of the earth.’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘Nobody has been down there, it is forbidden by our elders and they say anyone daring to break the sleep of a god will die a thousand deaths.’

  ‘Let’s take a look’ said India and led the way into the tunnel. Sure enough, after fifty paces, the ground opened before her and a circular shaft dropped away at her feet. She held out the lamp but the light wouldn’t penetrate the suffocating blackness.

  ‘What’s that smell?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘It is the smell of the snake,’ said John. ‘Many are seen making this pit their home and it is believed they too protect the holy one.’

  ‘Another reason not to go in,’ sighed Brandon. ‘I guess we’ll never know if there’s anyone down there.’

  ‘Oh I don’t know,’ said India, ‘look at that.’ She lifted her lamp up and shone the light onto the stone ceiling above the centre of the pit. ‘If I’m not mistaken,’ she said, ‘isn’t that a shaft through the rock?’

  ‘It is,’ said Brandon quietly, ‘just like the one in Khufu’s tomb under the pyramid back in Egypt.’

  ‘Exactly the same,’ said India, ‘and placed there so the Ba of the king can return to his body.’ She stared down the pit before looking back at Brandon.

  ‘I think he’s down there, Brandon, I think we’ve found him. This is the tomb of Khufu.’

  -
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  Chapter Thirty One

  Las Vegas Hospital

  2014

  ‘And that’s it really,’ said India, ‘we left the tunnels soon after and returned to the drive in. ‘Mama Cass made another pass at Brandon but apart from that, there’s nothing more to tell.’

  Tarik adjusted his position in the hospital bed, wincing as a pain shot up his broken arm.

  ‘So,’ he sighed when he was comfortable again, ‘That’s it, it’s all over. Muburak has been arrested, the disc is nowhere to be seen and the tunnels turned out to be nothing more than a cemetery for the Hopi dead.’

  ‘That’s about it,’ said Brandon, ‘nothing there, nothing at all, not so much a sniff of anything Egyptian.’

  India kicked his ankle but never took her eyes of Tarik.

  The Egyptian stared at Brandon for an age, his eyes narrowing in doubt.

  ‘Now you wouldn’t be lying to me would you Brandon?’

  ‘Would I?’ asked Brandon, feigning a hurt look.

  ‘Yes you would,’ said Tarik and turned to face India. ‘Look, I know you have probably been sworn to secrecy and I swear that when I leave this place I won’t say a thing but I have to know, India, were we right? Is Khufu still out there?’

  ‘Tarik,’ said India, taking his hand, ‘it’s over. Let it go.’

  Tarik smiled.

  ‘Okay India, I understand. There are some things that are better not known and despite my calling in life, I think perhaps, this is one of them.’

  ----

  Back in the canyon, John stood above the shaft leading down to Khufu’s Tomb. In his hand he held a piece of jade he had found earlier in the day down in the ravine. After saying a short prayer, he tossed the precious stone into the shaft and returned the way he had come but before he left the caverns, he ducked into a tiny passage which led to another small cavern. Inside were two full stone sarcophagi next to each other, the last resting place of two of the Anasazi. The reliefs on the wall depicted them as holding hands and it was obvious they had once been man and wife. He smiled and looked at the names engraved on the stone coffins and though he couldn’t read the words, his grandfather had told him what it said, as passed down from generation to generation.