by Gene Stiles
Chapter XIX
Wadjet hurried through the pyramid just ahead of her companions, careful to check every turn in the old hallways for unexpected guests. Once she assured herself no one awaited them around a bend, she urged her charges forward. They moved in silent stealth along dusty, unused corridors toward a long-forgotten exit buried among hanging vines on the northwest base of the structure. They had to duck the entire way and her back ached from almost doubling over as they went. Their shoulders bled and bruised in the narrow confines, scraping the roughhewn granite walls. These tunnels were made by and for the Izon slaves who constructed the Central Pyramid and abandoned when they were murdered once their work was finished.
“How much further?” Ramathus whispered in the dim passage, their only light three small light rods Wadjet brought back with her from the ship. “I think my neck is about to break,” he said with a smile in his voice.
“Not far…I hope.” Wadjet could not turn her head much in this claustrophobic hallway so she just threw the comment over her shoulder. “Wait! I see the end,” she added with a sigh of relief. “Stay here while I check things out.”
Eons of dust, cobwebs and grime almost obscured the T-shaped lever imbedded into the slab of stone. She found it only by running her fingertips along the edge of the faint crack outlining the doorway. Wadjet gripped it with both hand and pulled. Nothing happened. She put all of her strength into it, but the ancient handle refused to budge. A ripple of fear shivered up her spine at the thought they might be trapped here and have to spend more long hours retracing there steps back into the Central Pyramid. No doubt their absence would be noticed by then and they would be captured.
“Ra, grab my shoulders,” she called in desperation. She braced her feet against the bottom of the door and leaned backward. “I cannot do this alone!”
Ramathus slipped his arms under hers and locked his hands on her shoulders. He felt the hands of Astraeus under his armpits, knowing the Captain added his powerful muscles to his own. Planting his sinewy legs on the rough granite floor, he pulled with all of his considerable might. He thought his ribcage might snap with the colossal, painful strain Astraeus exerted upon him, hoping her did not hurt Wadjet as much.
A loud snap cracked through the air like a bolt of lightning, echoing down the corridors. Wadjet tumbled back, landing in a heap on top of Ra and Astraeus. She could hear the grunt of the Captain when they all hit the floor in a tangle, landing half on top of him. She struggled to regain her footing, helped by the push of Ramathus on her back. In horror, Wadjet saw the T lever lying on the floor at her feet, torn from its niche in the wall. She prayed to Sirius the lock pin holding the door opened before the lever broke.
Wadjet put her bloody, aching shoulder to the edge and shoved. At first, it refused to move, but as a foreboding panic infused her body and her tendons bulged upon her quivering legs, there came a grinding sound followed by a slow shifting of stone. Inch by torturous inch, the thick, heavy rock opened until a crack of moonlight appeared around the edges. Wadjet felt her strength seeping from her shaking legs, afraid what she had left inside would not be enough. Tears blurred her vision, but she did not give up, pushing harder and harder.
Two sets of hands wrapped around the door from the outside and pulled. Then a shoulder slid inside. Between her saviors and her, Wadjet managed to get the portal open far enough for her to reach the open air. She fell to the plush green grass, her body throbbing, sparks of searing pain covering her skin like a thousand hot needles. Her chest heaved, greedily sucking in the sweet, aromatic air. She wanted to bask in the beauty of the starlight, bathe in the wide open space surrounding her, but, sadly, she could not.
“Let us go quickly,” Simariset whispered, his dark-skinned face nearly invisible beneath the hood of his cloak. He handed a cloak to Wadjet, helping her rise from the lawn. “The moon will be waning soon. We will want to be gone from Nil by then.”
Reluctantly, she acquiesced, allowing herself to be lifted to her feet. She pulled the dark gray cloak over her scrapped and blood-covered body, hiding the tears in her cotton shift. Wadjet kept the hood drawn low over her face as she followed her cohorts through the sleeping Izon village, past the vast gardens to the hidden vehicles waiting in the forest to the south of the city. Wadjet was pleasantly surprised at the ease of their escape. Her friends planned well.
Simariset led them deep into the tall oak trees just as the first rays of the rising sun broke across the eastern sky, setting a wide band of passing clouds on fire in hues of red and yellow. The undergrowth impeded them in places, but a winding path got them though to a clear space near the western tree line. Ten of her People rose from around their small campfire when the bushed parted marking their arrival. Parked on the far side of the clearing an array of sleds sat waiting in anxious anticipation.
Even though Wadjet, Ramathus, Isis and Astraeus were completely exhausted they knew there was no time to rest. The camp broke quickly, packing their bedding and gear in the back of the freight sled. While the rest of the parties mounted their sleds, Simariset stopped to talk to Wadjet.
“I strongly suggest,”, he said, looking into her tired oval eyes, “that the four of you slip into the back of the sled and get some sleep on the bedding we left spread out for you. There is plenty of room. It is a long way to the western mountains and then to the crags. I promise to awaken you when we arrive or if we run into trouble.”
Bone weary and spent, the Atlanteans and Wadjet gratefully accepted. Dropping their drained and aching bodies onto the soft, wool blankets, the escapees fell immediately into a deep, fatigued slumber, the golden glow of Healing haloing them as they slept.
By the time the alarm reached Apophus’ ear and his screaming began, the convoy had the western mountains flashing past on their flank, the man-high, yellow prairie grass on their left. Along the base of the mountains, meadows of scraggly patches of weeds and sickly looking grasses were all that grew. The sleds skimmed over them, leaving not a trace of their passing behind. Tracking the fugitives would be impossible.
“Wadjet. Wadjet, wake up,” Isis said firmly, shaking the woman’s shoulder gently. “We have reached the crags.”
Wadjet felt as if the eyelids over her large, almond-shaped, emerald eyes were glued tightly shut. She rubbed them softly, feeling a crust of dust and tears crumbling beneath her hands. A fog of blurry shapes appeared in her vision, standing above her and moving around the open end of the sled. It took great effort to shake the clouds from head, a tiredness still slowing her movements. Wadjet knew her exhaustion came not from her flight, but from the years of hope and planning, depression and disappointment. Now that she finally escaped with her friends, her body just wanted to shut down for a while. She could not allow that until they were all safe in the valley.
“Come along, wonderful lady,” Isis said kindly, extending a hand to help the Nillian to her feet. Her wavy auburn hair looked freshly brushed, glistening in the bright yellow sun peeking over the horizon. Sparkles of gold shown in her happy jade eyes, her ruby lips smiling in a way Wadjet had not seen since their first arrival.
Isis jumped from the truck, shooing away the men unloading supplies and closing the rear doors. “Give the lady some privacy so she may dress and prepare herself. And no peeking,” Wadjet heard her say with a chuckle. When she climbed out dressed in tan leathers and a long-sleeved, dark brown blouse, the rest of the men and women sat around a campfire making breakfast that smelled irresistibly tantalizing.
“Ah, the sleeper awakes,” Astraeus quipped, a broad smile pushing its way through his thick, curly beard. He extended a burly arm, a plate of steaming food piled high upon it. “Would you care for a little repast?”
“You are a god,” Wadjet smiled, taking the offering and sitting close to the warming flames. “I thank you. I did not know you could cook.”
“I have many talents you are not yet aware of,” he replied with a devilish wink. “Maybe you will learn of them one day.”
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br /> The blush that turned her cheeks a bright crimson caused all those gathered around her to burst into peels of tension-relieving laughter, lightening the harsh mood that plagued them last night. Promise, hope and excitement filled the slightly chill air and the voices of the people sitting on the rocks and hard ground. A buoyant optimism swelled within them, an eager enthusiasm to see the ship of legend and explore all of its lost wonders. The breakfast of eggs and spicy sausage was eaten quickly, the hot, dark tea poured into cups to take along. Everyone wanted to get inside a fast as possible.
The freight sled would never fit through the narrow defile that accessed the valley, so it was unloaded and hidden among the thorny thickets and covered with rocks and grasses. The two larger sleds had to be tipped to one side and manhandled with the ear-aching screech of medal to get through the tighter spots. Everyone felt grateful and weary by the time the valley floor welcomed them with soft, flat ground. Even though they were anxious to reach the ship, they stopped at the base of the trail, resting for a couple of hours before pushing on, leaving the sleds behind.
Thankfully, the trail she hacked on her initial foray made their journey quicker than before. Still, their packs caught on creeping vines and thorns that dangled from thickets of bright red berries and the slumping fingers of branches in the dark green forest trees. Threatening black clouds formed in the skies above them, hastening their trek around the valley. Warm rain began to fall in thick sheets, soaking the travelers to the bone and making vision difficult. The spongy moss soaked up the water becoming slippery and treacherous. By the time they reached the end of the path, everyone was covered in patches of filthy mud from frequent falls to the ground.
The torrents of rainfall hid the vine-covered opening to the ship making it impossible to see though Wadjet knew they were in the correct area. The group spread out and sunk their hands into the ropey foliage, seeking the cave by feel.
“Whoa!” came a yell followed by a crash of cracking vines and a volley of artful, colorful curses.
“Over here,” Astraeus called out with a sputter, his bulk entangled in broken greenery. He pulled away thorny growth from his leathers and leaves out of his curly beard and yelled happily, “I found it!”
His ebony skin and black leathers made it tough to find him in the dim light and torrential rainfall, but his gigantic bulk stood out like a beacon against the openness of the cleared trail. The hole he stumbled through in the undergrowth made for easy passage inside for the rest of the group and they thanked him in good humor as they stepped inside, glad be out of the raging storm. Most of the people stayed to clear a space in the rubble, setting up camp while the rest made torches and scouted the interior for firewood. They could not find a lot of dry branches and vines inside, but enough to start warming fires to dry sodden bones and make an evening meal. As badly as they wanted to explore, they were all too tired and the rumbling storm outside filled their haven with a black curtain too thick to pierce. They had to wait until it passed.
Misty fingers of sunlight tickled the cave mouth in the morning, attempting to find its way through the hanging vines. One such beam landed directly on the sleeping eyes of Ramathus making him flinch and turn over on the pebble-strewn ground. A particularly sharp one dug into his side bringing him instantly away. He sat up, stiff and sore from the hard, flat surface, glancing around the man-made cavern. Tendrils of light seeped through the entrance giving a dim, but useful radiance to the vast area where they camped. Around him, others began to stir and soon rose in excited anticipation of the day.
Enough wood and twigs were left to start a few small fires to heat morning teas and make a light breakfast of eggs and hard-crusted bread. While the cooking began, Ramathus, Astraeus and three of the Nillian People cleared the tough vines and weeds from the cavern entrance, allowing bright sunlight to flood the chamber. They hastily finished their meal and immediately began the difficult task of clearing out millenniums of debris the ship.
“Here are the panels I found,” Wadjet said, her voice dripping with jubilation. A thick carpet of stringy growth covered the control surfaces, but colored buttons and displays were clearly visible. “This ship is still powered!”
It appeared that they stood on the bridge of the ancient vessel. The more litter they cleared, left by centuries of animals who used this space for their dens, the more the purpose of the chamber became apparent. The skeletal frames of once padded chairs sat before stations of buttons and monitors dark and dirty, labeled in a language only vaguely familiar. At the far end of the room where it sunk into the mountainside stood a raised dais, corroded rails of some borithium-like metal barely standing on either side, on which the tattered remains of two command chairs sat like broken sentinels staring into the rock and dirt before them. Between them, a tall panel twinkled with a living flicker of light beneath a hand-sized, cracked monitor of sorts. No words accompanied the square buttons displayed there so figuring out what they meant would be difficult. An avalanche of rock and soil poured in through a shattered, crystal-like window directly in front of the two ‘Captain’s Chairs’ surrounded by twisted metal and what was left of a thick hull.
“Dare we take the chance, Ra?” Isis sat at his side, her clothing damp and filthy from a hard day’s work, her wavy auburn hair limp and clumped with dirt and sweat. Even weariness could not hide her glowing beauty and her elation at being free.
“We will have to soon,” Ra replied, his blond hair tied tightly near the nape of his neck. His blue eyes shimmered in the light, revitalized by the fantastical discoveries he and his companions made this day. “That is why we came here. There is a treasure trove of knowledge surrounding us. We must learn from it if we are to survive.”
“True,” Wadjet interjected, her voice tinged with concern, “but should we not wait a few more days and try to decipher this ancient language before proceeding? Simariset and Numinen retrieved our sleds and supplies. We have our stoves, water and food enough for weeks and fresh clothing. I think it would be prudent to wait a little longer.”
“I would not wish to have come this far only to blow myself up,” Astraeus laughed light-heartedly. “I am afraid I agree with the ladies, Ra. I am happy just to be alive and free at the moment, thanks to our Nillian comrades,” he smiled, nodding to the other men and women gathered around them. “I am in awe of you! Thank you all once again!”
“Alright,” Ramathus said with a sigh. “A few more days should not kill us.”
“Good,” Astraeus roared, slapping him on the back hard enough to make him cough. “I have no desire to die while I am so young!”
Six days later, Ra sat in the Captain’s chair, re-slung with a blanket tied to the armrests. To his left, Wadjet, Simariset, Decalon, Stella, Eldor and Isis stood before lit controls and to his right, Astraeus, Numinen, Narobi, Cimmeron, Bellihut and Helena stood in front of similar stations. The tension, a combination of fearful dread and ebullient excitement, soaked the bridge like the storm a week past. They all stared at Ra, awaiting his command. His hand quivered slightly, his lips pursed in his nervousness. He prayed he understood enough of the language to be right in his assumptions. Between the base language of the Atlanteans, the current language of the Nil and Wadjet’s knowledge of the languages of the Great Library, they believed they figured deciphered much of it. It was time to find out. He laid his hand upon the control surface, feeling a warmth beneath his palm. Hesitating only slightly, Ra closed his eyes and pressed down with his middle finger, hoping he would live to see what happened next.
A low hum filled the room, more felt than heard. The entire ceiling of the chamber glowed a soft white, bathing them in a brilliance almost painful to eyes accustomed to just the sunlight pouring in the entrance and the dim glow of the panels. Banks of monitors covered the walls above the stations, unnoticed before under thick layers of dust. More and more surfaces sprang into life, information scrolling across them in torrents of color. Buttons in all shapes and sizes flashed around the room and
two sets of doors the group were unable to open slid back into the walls before closing once again.
The room exploded in jubilant cheers and back slapping, hugs and kisses. Wadjet raced up to Ramathus, jumped up and threw her arms around his neck, planting a hot, wet kiss on his smiling face.
“We did it!” she shouted with glee. “The ship lives!”
Ra laughed at her exuberance, hugging her tightly before lowering her to the ground. He stepped down from the dais, giving a round of handshakes, hugs and kisses around the room. The babble of joyous excitement echoed around the cavernous chamber, sounding like a hundred voices instead of only a dozen.
“Well, we did not kill ourselves,” Astraeus grinned, nearly crushing Ramathus in his big burly arms. “What next?”
“I do not know,” Ra replied, his face beaming at his friend. “More exploration for now. I wish this ship could tell us more about itself,” he said offhandedly.
“I can do that,” a lovely, smooth female voice answered, stilling all conversation like an explosion of thunder. “What would you like to know, Captain?”
Whatever respect and admiration the Lord God once garnered among the Nillian People had eroded into nothing more than naked fear in these last eight months. Since the escape of his pet Atlanteans and the betrayal of one of the Trinity, the rage of Apophus knew no bounds, just as apt to turn upon a random citizen as upon an Izon daring to glance in his direction. His own guards took the brunt of his seething fury, writhing in agony before his gold-gilded throne, slowly dismembered beneath the blue light of his glowing staff for not finding the fugitives quickly enough. Promotion to squad captain carried with it a death sentence as assuredly as breath in the lungs. Public flayings for minor offences became daily occurrences. Entire families of Izon were executed for not meeting their quotas in the fields or the mines.
A dark pallor fell over the city that the brightest sunshine could not begin to pierce. When they spoke at all, the conversations of the People were quiet and muted behind closed doors or raised hands in terror their words might displease the Lord God. The streets no longer bustled with life. Only those required for specific tasks walked the roadways and they did so with eyes downcast, shoulders slumped. The rainbow of flowers and vines cascading down the sides of the Central Pyramid withered and died. The gardens and walkways upon the granite plateau felt not the happy footsteps of loving couples basking in the brilliant light of day and the smell of aromatic blossoms.