Atticus And The Scrolls Of The Pharaoh

by M K Drake

  Atticus looks towards the other Majjai Six who return a knowing glance.

  “Dragonclaw Mountain,” they all say together.

  Olof checks the compass and looks towards Elric. “This makes sense, he mentioned last year this is where he was trained, perhaps he has gone to seek his old Master.”

  Elric nods, “Yes, Mage Avipaul and the Bhandari clan. Some of them aided us in the fight last winter. They are a closed group, but also trustworthy. The Mecha Knights will stay here and assist with repairing Spitfire,” He looks towards Atticus and Mage Callan, “You must go now.” He waves his hands in the air and creates a set of passports and tickets. “Your transport leaves in an hour.”

  “But that flight will take at least nine hours,” says Atticus.

  “Ah, my dear boy, you should know by now we don’t do things the normal way. These are Majjai tickets, and you will not be travelling by air.”

  Confused, Atticus wonders what will be revealed to him now. Olof already appears to know as he holds the tickets.

  “Fantastic, I’ve always wanted to use the earth tunnels!”

  “Earth tunnels?” quizzes Atticus.

  “Yes, it’s a discrete method of Majjai travel, useful, I think, if we are not allowed to teleport over. Tunnel Jets!”

  Atticus is unable to get excited, for his worry over Ju Long, he tries not to show it but already senses that the others know and share his concern. Atticus takes the tickets from Olof, keen to get started, “So, let us go, we need to hurry.”

  And with that the remaining Majjai Six and Mage Callan depart the chamber, leaving a concerned Elric overlooking the repairs of Spitfire with the Mecha Knights.

  # # #

  The Majjai soon reach the Earth Tunnel entrance as indicated on the map, situated just on the outskirts of London, close to a town called Slough.

  The day is sunny and the air crisp, and as they breathe in the refreshing air, it awakens their senses helping them to recover from the efforts of the journey. Some butterflies flutter along the green grass as Atticus double checks the map for the location of the tunnel, but they cannot see it, all that is visible is a giant mound of earth.

  “This is definitely the place,” he says, glancing back and forth from the landscape in front of him to the map.

  Joyce grabs the map to have a look herself, “Well, your directions are definitely right, this does indeed appear to be the place. Maybe we have to show our tickets or something?”

  Atticus, thinking anything is worth a shot at this point, holds the tickets up and waves them in the air and a large clump of mud and grass appears to melt away, revealing the cloaked entrance. They walk through the tunnel entrance, which is embedded into a hillside situated far enough away from any buildings or roads so as to not bring too much attention to itself. It remains dark until the last of the Majjai walk through. The tunnel entrance reforms the closure before the chamber lights up.

  In front of them stands a platform that almost resembles one of those found at a London Tube station, when it is empty. There is barely a soul about; a tiny kiosk-like room at the far end of the platform, with its light flickering away, is the only sign of life. A silhouette of a figure inside begins to move around, as the door of the kiosk creaks open. A small figure of a man, who appears to be quite old and frail, closes the kiosk door and comes towards them. “Ah, visitors, with tickets! This is wonderful! These tunnels do not see much use these days, what with all of your teleporting about. Travelling the old-fashioned way has been forgotten.”

  Atticus hands over the tickets as the old man puts his hand out. “When was the last time it was used from here?”

  “Oh, let me think now, perhaps, nearly three years ago,” the old man studies the tickets and then the passports. “Hmmm, India, eh? That’s a good 3 hours through the tunnels. The Trainjet should be here in about…” but before he finishes a loud engine roar is heard in the distance, and soon enough a large train-like vehicle with wings appears and screeches to a halt. When the echoes of the vehicle’s arrival dissipate, it gives the old man the chance to finish his sentence, “…now.”

  Mage Callan ushers everyone on board and thanks the old man, who they spot walking back to his kiosk and closing the door as the Trainjet closes its own. “These things were built by the Mecha Knights quite some time ago, back during the times prior to the first Battle of Aria. It was much riskier teleporting around back then; demonkind was rife in our realm, and they had devised ways to detect teleportation events occurring close to them. The Mecha Knights have evolved the form of transport over the millennia from enchanted horses pulling carriages to the different ports to these new-fangled Trainjets.”

  Atticus sits down in a seat closest to the door. He sinks into the big roomy chair as the others follow suit. Tired from all the events and the continuing build up of stress, he quickly succumbs to sleep, with the subdued roar of the Trainjet’s engines acting as a rather odd, but soothing, lullaby.

  # # #

  “Wake up Atticus! We are here!”

  Atticus awakes with a start to see Khan standing over him, shaking his arm; it takes a moment for things to synchronise before he realises where they are. He wipes the sleep from his eyes and stands, stretching his muscles. The short nap did its work, for he now feels much fresher. He follows the others as they depart the Trainjet onto another platform identical to the one they left – even the ticket inspector could pass as the twin of the other.

  They make their way out of the tunnel onto a much more tropical looking hillside, the stifling heat that hits them as they emerge tells them straight away that they are definitely not in England any more.

  Atticus looks over to Mage Callan. “How far are we, Sir? Any more information on the compass?”

  Mage Callan pulls out the Detector of Life and taps it, coaxing it back on. The blue arrow re-appears and details the distance. “That way,” he says, pointing north-easterly, “less than a mile.”

  Olof creates a block of ice which he then uses it to create a cooling mist above the Majjai as they walk in the heat. The landscape is lush, with green foliage that Safaya is able to clear without any damage, but even though the distance is not far, it takes them almost an hour of traversing the terrain to reach the foot of Dragonclaw Mountain. A symphony of animal noises and calls surround them, the volume of which wavers as the wind blows in various directions, affected by the different causeways of the mountain range. For a few moments at a time the jungle appears to go silent, as the gale fills their ears, blowing their garments in all sorts of directions.

  “Maybe wearing the uniform on this trip wasn’t the best of ideas?” says Khan as his cloak almost flicks into Atticus’s face. He takes a few steps forward, then stops abruptly. “Wait,” he says. The wind slows down, and between the jungle noise taking over the spectrum of sound again he appears to hear something. “We are being followed.”

  “Yes!” A voice echoes through the jungle, silencing everything else. The wind ceases and the animals within the trees and all around them go quiet. Their sense of fear reverberates in the air, and nature’s instinct to hide when in danger triggers a barrage of movement of every living creature nearby fleeing away.

  The Majjai stand alone, eyeing the jungle, waiting for whatever being has forced this newfound silence.

  “You Majjai do humour me. You think you have a sense of purpose. You think you matter, when really, your significance in the eyes of the universe is even less than that of a microbe to you, less than a speck of dust. You do not register on the cosmic scale, but I… I end worlds.” The Horseman crashes through the trees and rides directly through the Majjai. His giant grey horse makes short work of them as they try to scatter.

  Atticus grabs his sword and attempts to attack the Horseman, flying into the air and aiming his blade directly at the World Ender.

  The Horseman looks directly towards Atticus, his stare is sharp and hollow, his eyes a piercing deep black and his skin paler than the moon itself. He lifts
his heavily-robed arm and using an invisible force, pushes Atticus to the ground before flinging him into the other Majjai.

  Khan tries to destabilise the horse by smashing a pressure wave through the ground using his enhanced strength, but the Horseman raises his other hand blocking the path of the attack.

  “Enough!” The Horseman clenches his right fist in front of him and all of the Majjai are frozen, caught in whatever energy their enemy is using. “This was almost too easy – yet somehow you weak-minded fools defeated Razakel and his army?”

  Atticus tries to struggle against the force holding him, but to no effect, “Yes, and we will do the same to you!”

  “I do not think so. Now, tell me, where are the Scrolls?” The Horseman waits for an answer, but is distracted by a birdcall, “Amusing, some animals here show much courage to stay in my presence,” he turns to see if he can catch a glimpse of this brave creature, peering into the jungle. A twitch in the foliage catches his attention, and then another, before he realises the trap, a massive cloud of dust encircles him, blinding his view. From out of the jungle a mass of collective fireballs fly into his direction. He spies them too late and is knocked from his steed and falls to the ground. The dust cloud still blinds him to his surroundings but he can feel the hold on the Majjai has gone, and as the dust cloud settles, they are nowhere to be seen.

  The Majjai Journals:

  If the King had told me the difficulty of keeping Princess Safaya safe, I may well have refused his request. Although I am glad I did not, I am also saddened. Until this world is safe, until the dangers from the demons have been eradicated, I must stay true to my duty. I can be her guard; I cannot be what she wants me to be, despite her advances.

  I cannot bring this matter up with her brother, for he would surely be angered and choose another to take on this obligation. This would hurt me more than not being able to return the emotion I am longing to give. It is a pain I gladly bear. For this way, at least, I am able to keep her safe, despite her petulance. She is wise in years, but often shows the wisdom of a child. I am certain she does it to vex me sometimes, but who am I to accuse one of such beauty and grace, albeit with a sharp tongue when required.

  I have concerns about Atticus, he is distracted by much now-a-days. His father, Joseph, is a great burden for him, and he worries about his father constantly; I can feel it, his torment. I suspect Joseph has been thinking about more than Atticus, I sense the thirst for revenge within him whenever I am in his presence. He needs to control that anger before it distracts Atticus so much so that it could be a fatal not just for him, but for us all.

  I will take my concerns up with Elric.

  I also need to speak to Elric regarding the strange reports the League of Aria are sending back about Cairo and Al Faiyum. The Egyptian gods appear to be stirring to something, one in particular, a one-time enemy of the League, if the rumours are true. Let us see what occurs. For now, I must rest.

  Abd Al-Hakim Khan

  Chapter 8

  The Pharaoh Child

  “You are safe now.”

  Atticus peers upwards to try and catch a glimpse of their rescuers. “Who are you?” he asks as they are led deep into the jungle, away from Dragonclaw Mountain.

  “We are friends of Ju Long; my name is Avipaul Bhandari. Master Mage of the Bhandari clan, and this is my cousin, Daljeet Sidhu Bhandari,” he points to a tall, elegant lady with long, straight hair, and an incredibly well-toned physique, wearing a rugged pair of trousers suited for traversing the jungle terrain and a much lighter top, exposing her midriff, to try and keep cool in the muggy humidity.

  Atticus looks around to the others to make sure they are all present and accounted for; as he does so, he notices two rather large men, dressed similar to Daljeet but with no shirt, and very muscular indeed, one is carrying Joyce, sitting upright, on his shoulder, and the other man is carrying Safaya. The one carrying Joyce spots Atticus, “We cannot allow the ladies to walk, we are honoured to ease their burden.”

  Joyce and Safaya giggle, with the latter patting her helper on the head, “And appreciate it we do indeed.”

  Khan and Olof are walking alongside Mage Callan and quickly catch up to Atticus. The latter is the first to speak.

  “The Horseman, I knew he was powerful, but that encounter was much worse than I could have imagined. His hold felt unbreakable. How did you manage to free us?”

  Mage Avipaul sighs, “We didn’t. He relented during the distraction. He needs to be able to see you to catch you. You were lucky that Ju Long alerted us that you would come.”

  Atticus, glad that Ju Long has been in contact with someone, is quick to ask, “You’ve spoken to him; is he ok?”

  “He is fine. But before we take you to him, we need to know your intentions.”

  “We want to help him, he is one of us.”

  “He wasn’t always. Will you still regard him as your own if you knew his past? Knew what he was?”

  Mage Callan lends a knowing gaze to the Bhandari clan leader, “We each have a past; it is what we do with the present, to shape the future, that matters. Our past can teach us or hinder us. I hope we have learnt enough to not judge simply on what has been.”

  “Very well,” replies the Bhandari Clan leader. “This way,” he points to a tunnel entrance that appears out of nowhere on the side of one the larger trees, big enough for all of them to walk through in single file.

  The Majjai follow him into the dark hollowed trunk of the tree, stepping down wooden stairs, taking them deep below the jungle above. The opening closes swiftly, triggering glows from within the tree bark, almost as if the roots themselves have fireflies darting around inside of them.

  Atticus breathes deeply. The air here is much cooler; it soothes his lungs and he can sense the others’ relief, too. The sound of the jungle is muted, but still present, as the animals return above ground, giving a hopeful indication that the Horseman has departed from the area.

  “The Horseman does not give up that easily, he always has a plan,” Mage Avipaul says, dampening the hope of the Majjai as though he senses their optimism. “Now, please, sit here, I have a story to tell you.”

  Mage Avipaul points to a set of seats made from rock, situated in a circle in a clearing at the bottom of the steps. The same orange glow as on the stairs lights the chamber, it reaches high and wide, with a dome-like ceiling formed by a massive number of tree roots. The clan leader takes the central seat which is slightly larger than the rest. He sits first and then beckons the others to follow.

  As the Majjai and the clan members take their seats, Joyce and Safaya thank their human chariots before joining the others, facing Mage Avipaul. The clan members sit on either side of their leader, completing the circle with only one empty seat remaining.

  Mage Avipaul adjusts himself slightly before commencing, pulling down his light, woven-rope top, “You have heard of the Dragonheart?”

  Mage Callan is the only one to respond. “I have, but it is doubtful the others here would be knowledgeable.”

  “The dragon with a soul?” asks Atticus, remembering what Majjai Kayban had mentioned at the manor.

  Mage Callan is suitably impressed and nods towards Atticus before Mage Avipaul continues.

  “Yes, the dragon with a soul. Typically, demons and dark dragons do not have souls. They have a life force, yes, as all living things do, but only those without a demonic heart ever gain a soul. And that, as you can imagine, is incredibly rare.”

  Everyone shuffles in their seats slightly to get comfortable for the story as they all gaze towards Mage Avipaul.

  “The tale of how Dragonheart gained a soul is different depending on who you speak to, but we believe we have pieced together his history. What we know is that there was an order, during the reign of Asmodei, to destroy the first-born daughters of all the Kings in the realm of Earth. One dragon, a hellspawn of Draconus, the king of the dark dragons, could not bring himself to murder a young baby. A princess. This dragon’s n
ame was Drakor.

  “Drakor had killed many times before, killed many Majjai in fact, and was one of Draconus’s most deadly of warriors. Some had suggested him to be worthy of ruling over the dark dragons if the day ever came when Draconus succumbed to the lost Sword of Al Amir. But Drakor had had enough of the relentless, never-ending death, and when the young ones were targeted, it was too much for his heart to bear. He rescued the baby instead, and delivered her to safety, slaying the dragons that gave chase.

  “He was found by a group of Majjai who had been sent to retrieve the Princess. They feared her dead, but what they found instead was this great, dark dragon protecting her from the others. The Majjai came to Drakor’s aid and helped him fight off his opponents. Upon handing the baby Princess over, a blast of light was thrown from the heavens, and gave Drakor a soul, leaving his dragon heart intact. He went by the name Dragonheart for some years after, but the soul he was given transformed him.

  “One day Dragonheart was found, collapsed, in the deserts of Egypt, near an unstable time vortex – we suspect its energy had been disrupted by the contact with the dragon. A master of time, sensing his soul, helped to heal him, but during the process his dragon body changed to a human form. His memory of his past faded when he awoke. He had no memory of who he was, just vague visions. We helped heal him, but realised who he truly was when we listened to his heart. It was not a human heart, but that of a dragon.”

  Everyone is quiet, they ponder what they have just heard, the knowledge is impactful, and it takes time for the Majjai to process.