Jagger Jones and the Mummy's Ankh

by Malayna Evans

  “I must go now, dear ones,” Wenher said, swiveling her neck to stare at one girl, then the next. “I’ll visit you and your mother, the Queen, soon. Perhaps we can convince her to let you two come riding with me.”

  The two smallest girls clapped their hands with delight as the largest girl nodded her thanks.

  “Meretaten’s other sisters, the three youngest princesses, and their half-brother, Prince Tutankamun,” the woman explained as she grabbed the reins of the two black horses and led them out the large gate, through a line of palace guards.

  Jagger craned his neck to look back at the boy king, famous for his tomb, the only intact royal tomb ever discovered, and his sisters. Then he remembered some evil General was out there, hoping to murder these adorable little kids—and it was Jagger’s job to stop him—and his stomach plummeted into his toes.

  “The King Tut?” Aria whispered to Jagger.

  Jagger nodded as Wenher led the chariot out of the palace gate and onto a wide street. He stared, mouth ajar, back at the palace, built of white stone and covered in brightly painted reliefs of the royal family. A painted stone gate circled the perimeter, and dozens of statues of Pharaoh Akhenaten stretched the length of the wall.

  People streamed around them on the street. There were men with white kilts and bare chests. Women in simple, ankle-length dresses held up by a few straps passed them by. A dour old man mumbled to himself, a harried looking young woman hushed two small children, and three young boys with their bald heads together laughed while a black dog bounced at their feet.

  Jagger tried to take it all in as he clung tightly to the chariot’s rail. He felt a little foolish when he noticed Aria holding her hands above the rail, balancing like she was on a rollercoaster.

  They’d only gone a few blocks when Wenher’s gasp pulled him out of his trance. She flicked the reins, prompting the horses to move faster. Sweat dappled her forehead, and she cursed under her breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Aria grabbed the chariot’s rail.

  “The General’s soldiers,” Wenher whispered under her breath, as if the two soldiers, blocking the road in front of them where the main street intersected a smaller cross street, might hear her.

  The men wore gray kilts with leather thongs crossing their chests. Both held a staff at his side. One was brawny and the other one, holding up a hand, was scrawny and bald. There wasn’t another chariot in sight.

  The soldiers were stopping them.

  “We can’t pass,” Wenher moaned through clenched teeth as she slowed the horses. “What is the meaning of this?” Her voice rang out regally.

  “Excuse us, my lady,” the scrawny soldier said, eyeing Jagger and Aria. “The General has had a report of suspicious activity involving two kids from out of town.”

  Wenher’s shoulders drew back. “Are you accusing my niece and nephew of something, sir? They are nobles! Visiting from Memphis. We’ve just come from the palace. Perhaps you would like to take this to the family?” she drawled.

  Jagger moaned. Was he really being profiled in ancient Egypt? It wasn’t the first time—he’d been stopped twice just for walking through Andrew’s hoity-toity neighborhood—but come on! Jagger held his breath, hoping the soldier would be intimidated by the name-dropping and let them pass.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Scrawny replied with a smirk. His silky voice didn’t match his scruffy appearance. “We’ll just ask them a few questions to confirm they’re not the kids we’re looking for.”

  Jagger’s gut churned as Scrawny eyeballed him. Aria leaned against him. Wenher cleared her throat and glanced at Jagger.

  He nodded, patting the scroll tucked into his kilt. What choice did he have?

  “Make it quick.” Wenher fanned herself with a stubby, bejeweled hand.

  Jagger licked his dry lips, wondering how a rich, well-connected teenager from ancient Memphis would behave. He copied Wenher’s posture and mimicked that cocky kid from math camp he didn’t like.

  Before Scrawny could utter a word, Aria shouldered Jagger aside. “What do you want?” she said.

  Jagger stifled a moan. He didn’t know if he was impressed with the steel in her voice or hurt that she assumed he couldn’t handle this. Scrawny’s sneer made him feel even more emasculated. Perfect.

  “My aunt just told you,” Aria shot back. “We’re from Memphis, here to visit the royal family and devote ourselves to the …” Aria stumbled, trying to remember the name of a god whose name she’d first heard of a few hours ago.

  “The Aten,” Jagger finished.

  “What part of Memphis?”

  Aria reached for a curl but they were all tucked neatly into her braids. She fake-coughed as Jagger searched his memory. The only thing he knew about ancient Memphis was that it had, from time to time, been the country’s capital and was located near the famous pyramids. He couldn’t have mentioned a section of the city had his life depended on it, which, he realized, it might.

  “Different parts,” he squeaked. He cleared his throat. “Our father owns several villas. One has a view of Khufu’s pyramid. Perhaps you want to involve him?” Jagger tried doubling down on Wenher’s threats.

  The soldier chuckled. Apparently he wasn’t scared of their imaginary daddy. “And where were you last night, around sundown?”

  Jagger had been in the modern world playing on his phone and ignoring his chores, because he was mad at Mom. But that wasn’t the answer this guy was looking for.

  “The Great Royal Mother has generously arranged this visit for my niece and nephew,” Wenher interrupted before Jagger could make an even bigger fool of himself. “As you must know, my husband, the great Huya, Overseer of the quarters of the Great Queen, Favorite of the Lord of the Two Lands …” Jagger wondered what social rules were at work here as the long string of titles spewed from Wenher’s mouth. How many titles could one man have?

  “That’s enough.” The soldier banged his staff on the ground. “The General is going to want to talk to these two.” He waved his buddy, Brawny, forward.

  “I will not hand over my charges.” Wenher lifted her head high as Brawny approached.

  “I assure you, my lady.” Scrawny’s smile was sly. “They’ll be safe with us. We’re taking them to the General. Surely you trust the General with your niece and nephew? You know of his devotion to the Aten—a devotion he shares with Pharaoh. We wouldn’t want to tell Pharaoh you stood in the way of the Aten’s desires.”

  Jagger’s heart was banging against his chest. Aria grabbed his hand—her hand was sweaty.

  Wenher flinched. “Of course I trust the General—” she stuttered.

  “Then there’s no problem,” the soldier interrupted. “We’ll return them to you. Right after the General clears them. I’m sure everything you’ve said here is true, so it won’t take long.”

  Wenher looked over at Jagger with a clenched jaw and an apologetic expression.

  Brawny lifted a hand to help Aria down.

  Jagger was frozen. They couldn’t go with these guys, but they couldn’t say no without looking guilty.

  “Now, little girl.” Scrawny’s voice was hard.

  Jagger sagged as his sister folded her arms, and stepped down from the chariot.

  FOLLOW YOUR PRINCE-IBLES

  Brawny’s fingers dug into Jagger’s arm. Jagger was so focused on Aria—stomping along in Scrawny’s clutches in front of him—he barely noticed.

  “Are you from Amarna?” Aria flashed the soldier her most winning you-gotta-love-me smile, and Jagger’s heart dropped. No one that guy’s age was from Amarna. It was built from scratch on untouched land. Jagger wasn’t sure how many years ago that was, but it was fewer years than this guy had been alive.

  “Sure.” Scrawny’s mouth curved into a grin. “Born and raised here—”

  “How far away is the General?” Jagger’s voice cracked as he interrupted the soldier’s lie before his sister could dig her grave deeper.<
br />
  Scrawny peeked back at him and snickered.

  “No questions,” Brawny responded in a surprisingly kind tone. He glanced over at Jagger and loosened his grip.

  “You guys asked questions,” Jagger retorted. He needed to buy time. And he needed to get his sister away from that creep before he threw her in front of an evil General dedicated to murdering their family.

  “We’re in charge.” Brawny’s voice was high for such a beefy guy.

  “I thought the royal family was in charge.” Jagger scanned the terrain. Houses with red doors lined the street. A few had clay snakes protecting them. Fewer people were around but those who were tossed glances their way as the soldiers dragged them past. Jagger called up a map of ancient Amarna in his head. The wide boulevard that ran between the main palace and the small Aten temple was behind them. The Nile was to the west. So they must be in the residential neighborhood just south of the main city.

  “We work for the General,” Brawny explained. “And the General works for Pharaoh.”

  “So that means we’re in charge,” Scrawny finished. “Back to your sister’s question—”

  “No it doesn’t!” Jagger was too loud. “It doesn’t mean you’re in charge. I mean, technically. It means you do the bidding of the General, who does the bidding of the Pharaoh. So you’re not in charge—”

  “We’re in charge of you.” Scrawny yanked Aria closer, and Jagger’s heart sped up.

  “We …” Brawny stopped suddenly. His fingers tightened on Jagger’s arm.

  A chariot sped toward them.

  “The prince!” Brawny hissed as he pulled Jagger to the side of the street and dropped to his knees. He yanked Jagger’s arm, forcing him down as Scrawny followed, dragging a squirming Aria. Brawny cast his eyes down, but Scrawny stared at the gold chariot hurtling their way, pulled by a white horse.

  Aria fell to her knees beside Jagger. He leaned into her, heart thumping. He could feel her bag, which she’d slid under her white shift dress.

  His mind raced. In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity. The words of the famous Chinese general, Sun Tzu, thundered through his head.

  This was his chance.

  The chariot rumbled closer.

  Just as it reached them, Jagger pulled away from the soldier and raced toward the horse.

  Dust flew.

  The horse neighed.

  His sister screamed.

  Green lights erupted to Jagger’s right side, and the horse reared back. Its hooves were so close to his head, Jagger felt the wind of the horse’s sudden lurch.

  “Whoa!” The voice was young but gravely.

  Jagger opened one eye. He was in the middle of the road, hunched up and frozen. But he was alive. He hadn’t been trampled by a horse.

  “What are you doing?” A stern faced teenager jumped off the chariot. He looked like he was a few years older than Jagger and was covered in gold, from head to toe. Even his sandals were gold. He stared at Jagger through kohl-lined eyes over crossed arms. “What …”

  Jagger sucked in a breath. He peeked over at Aria and realized even Scrawny had his head down now. Only Aria was looking up, hand to her mouth. When their eyes met, she jumped up, pulled away from the soldier, and ran to Jagger.

  “My sister,” Jagger stuttered. “I mean … I’m sorry.” He dropped to the ground, mimicking the soldiers. He felt Aria kneel next to him and slipped an arm around her.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the boy asked.

  “I’m sorry, your, uh, sir.” Jagger had no idea how to address an ancient Egyptian prince. “I … uh …”

  “You’re Tatia’s … I mean, Meretaten’s brother?” Aria was staring up at the prince, head quirked to one side. At least she hadn’t called the princess Merry Hot One this time.

  Jagger braved a glance at the boy. His eyebrows were crawling up his face. His nostrils flared as he examined Aria, then shifted his focus to Jagger.

  “And King Tut’s brother,” she added.

  Jagger shoved his shoulder into her. How slow could she be? Even Aria should be able to figure out this kid was older than Tut. So for Tut to be king, this kid had to be dead.

  “Smenkare!” Jagger shouted the name as it came to him. There wasn’t much scholarship about Tut’s older brother, who’d died young. “We know who you are, Prince Smenkare. Please ignore my sister. She’s delusional.” He squeezed Aria’s shoulder, willing her to shut up.

  “What …” The prince shook his head in confusion and glanced at the soldiers, now crowded behind Jagger and Aria.

  “We’re sorry, sir.” Scrawny was suddenly respectful. “We’re taking them to the General. He wants to talk to them.”

  “The General?” Smenkare squinted.

  “Yes, sir.” Scrawny kept his eyes down as he nodded.

  “You’re telling me the General wants these two kids?” The prince twined his fingers together, eyes glowing.

  “Yes, sir.” Scrawny nodded.

  “Well.” The prince studied Jagger through hooded eyes. “Then the General shall have them.”

  Jagger’s heart dropped. Maybe General Sun Tzu wasn’t as brilliant as his reputation.

  “Thank you, sir.” Scrawny put his hands on Aria, and she twisted. “We’re sorry they bothered you.”

  “No bother,” Smenkare drawled. “Put them on my chariot.”

  “What?” Scrawny’s head wobbled. “Sir, the General is waiting—”

  “I understand.” Smenkare hissed. “I said, put these two on my chariot. Now!”

  The soldiers shifted back and forth, exchanging confused glances. Scrawny shook his head.

  “Yes, sir.” Brawny pulled Jagger up, and led him to the horse that had almost trampled him.

  Aria scrambled up onto the chariot, and Jagger jumped in behind her.

  “Did you see that green light? That was magic!” Aria whispered. “He’s the Protector.”

  “We don’t know that,” Jagger shot back, patting his thigh to confirm the scroll hadn’t fallen out during his brush with death. “He just said he’s taking us to the General. We can’t trust this kid.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “Because those soldiers were definitely taking us the wrong way. Our odds were better—”

  “Seriously?” She sighed. “What, did you do math in your head and decide tossing yourself in front of a running horse was a winning plan? If fancy-teenager-boy hadn’t done, well, whatever that green light was, that horse would have killed you.”

  “Just stay quiet, and let me do the talking,” he shot back as Smenkare climbed into the chariot.

  The prince urged the horses on without sparing Jagger or Aria a glance.

  Jagger gripped the rail behind him, keeping his distance from the prince. He stared back at the soldiers as they sped off. The urge to flash Scrawny a rude gesture was hard to resist. At least they were headed toward the palace. If they could just get to Tatia, or Wenher, before the General …

  “You know my sister?” Smenkare kept his eyes straight ahead.

  “We—”

  Jagger stomped on Aria’s toe before she could say something stupid. His mind raced.

  The prince glanced back at them, impatient.

  “Uh,” Jagger stuttered. “The palace is lovely. Are we going there?” His chest felt too tight.

  The prince’s smile was inscrutable, but Jagger felt a little better when he caught a glimpse of the palace ahead. Before they reached it, the prince turned toward the Nile, leading the horse to two large docks that jetted out into the river. Several impressive looking sailboats with huge, white sails stood out among numerous smaller fishing boats. Men crawled all over the big ships like ants on a hill, loading and unloading goods.

  Smenkare stopped the horse and pointed to the largest boat.

  Jagger looked back at the palace.

  “Come with me.” The prince jumped down and nodded at the ship as
a nearby soldier took his horse’s reins.

  The ship had two wooden structures, like small barns, one on the front and the other on the back. Small windows ran along the top of the boat’s deck, each with an oar sticking straight through it.

  Jagger stumbled off the chariot, his sister at his side. “Where are we going?” His heart raced as he glanced from Smenkare to the boat.

  “Thebes.” Smenkare smiled.

  The Protector?

  “You’re—”

  “Aria!” Jagger turned on his sister. “Remember, lil’ sis, that you’re sick. I’m here to take care of you. Let. Me. Speak.”

  She scowled. But at least she shut up.

  “Come.” Smenkare motioned them forward, then pivoted and strode across a thin plank onto the ship’s deck.

  Jagger paused. What should he do? Could Smenkare be the Protector Tatia told them about? If so, why didn’t the prince just say that? Still, he wasn’t taking them to the General. Or was he? This wasn’t the way the soldiers had been heading. And what were the chances the prince would rush them to a boat bound for Thebes if he wasn’t the Protector?

  Jagger fingered the letter to Herihor. If he got to Thebes, he could find the temple and get the High Priest’s help. Of course, they’d also be further away from home, further away from Mom.

  “He’s the Protector,” Aria murmured. “He’s going to Thebes. And he knows magic. And he’s her brother!”

  “I don’t know.” Jagger sighed, glancing from the ship back to the palace.

  Aria put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Mek has one week, Jagger. We don’t have time for analysis paralysis. You need to trust people—”

  “Yeah, because that’s worked out so well for me so far.”

  “This isn’t about Dad,” she moaned, glancing at Smenkare, who was on the ship’s deck, staring back at them. With a huff, she stuck out her chin. “I don’t care what you do. I’m going.”