The Tekhen of Anuket

by Aiki Flinthart

  Phoenix hadn’t counted on the age of the wood beneath the gleaming gold. The ancient timber crumbled like stale bread beneath the pressure of a tonne of stone. Gold flaked off and the wooden frame exploded into dust and wood slivers.

  Desperately, he looked around for something more solid but the floor and walls were smooth. Together, they all hooked their fingers into the stone and heaved but for all their strength, the door was stronger. The gap closed a few more inches.

  He heard Jade’s anguished cry from the other side. “No!”

  Finally, it ground to a halt, leaving just two inches of open space where the remains of the stool had been squashed into a hard, golden slab, preventing the door from closing.

  There was a tense moment of eerie silence, broken only by harsh breathing, scrabbling and grunting as all four tried to haul the door back open. It didn’t budge.

  “Can you use the pressure pads again?” Phoenix called through the gap to Jade.

  “We’re trying,” she wailed, “but we can’t reach all three at once.”

  “Damn!” he thumped a hand against the uncaring stone. “Can you send some of your lights back through then? They all followed you. We’re in the dark here.”

  “Sorry.” Six little green fireballs squeezed through the opening and danced around Phoenix’s head.

  “What about Mjollnir?” Brynn’s voice had a sharp edge to it.

  “I can’t risk bringing this ceiling down on us,” Marcus’ reply drifted through. “It might just collapse the whole pyramid as well.”

  “Good point,” Phoenix shot a quick look at the ceiling. Suddenly the load of rock overhead seemed a lot more oppressive than it had before, and those columns in the treasure room a lot less sturdy.

  “Is there anything back in the treasure room you can use as a lever?” Jade suggested.

  “We’ll go look but I doubt it,” Phoenix said pessimistically. “Hang on.”

  Together, he and Brynn made a swift survey of the treasure chamber. Gold, silver, gems and wood were plentiful but strong iron bars were non-existent. Phoenix picked up a gilded chair and threw it angrily into a pile of treasure. The chair disintegrated and gold slithered to the floor in a shining cascade.

  There was another subsonic rumbling beneath their feet. He exchanged worried looks with Brynn. Had they set off another trap? They sprinted back to the exit. As they neared the closed door, Phoenix could hear muffled shouting from the other side.

  “Phoenix! Phoenix!” It was Jade’s frightened cry.

  “We’re here. What’s happening?” Phoenix put one eye to the crack, trying to see beyond. Brynn squeezed in below. They could both see Jade’s lights spinning chaotically around in the dust-filled air. Dust filled? Why was it so thick with dust in there?

  “The tunnel is filling up with sand!” Marcus yelled, coughing. “We’ve got to get the door open before we suffocate!”

  “Where’s the sand coming from?” Phoenix rubbed his eye clear of grit and squinted through the gap again. “Which end of the tunnel?”

  “Right here, by the door,” Jade sputtered. “It’s pouring in like a waterfall. My shield spell isn’t strong enough. I can’t hold it back. Hurry, we have to get the door open!”

  Sand began trickling through the bottom part of the door; filling the space and making a small cone of sand on the inside.

  “No! You two get out through Mehu’s tomb,” Phoenix thought fast. “We’ll find a way out through the pyramid.”

  “What if there isn’t a way out. What if it’s been blocked up?” Jade’s voice rose.

  “Then at least you two will be alive outside trying to find a way in,” he yelled back. He heard her coughing, angry refusal followed by the deeper murmur of Marcus’ voice then an ominous cracking and a loud thump.

  “What was that?”

  “The roof is caving in!” she screamed. The rush of sand increased to a dull roar.

  “You can’t lose another life, Jade, and Marcus can’t lose any. We’ll be fine. Get out now! Go!” Phoenix ordered.

  She made a wordless noise of frustration and fear and then he heard the faint sound of running footsteps. They were gone. Phoenix leaned his forehead against the cool stone and closed his eyes, listening to the gentle hiss of running sand.

  “They’re gone,” Brynn said in an odd, strangled voice.

  “They’ll find a way for us to get out,” Phoenix replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He still found it hard to rely on Jade. “But just in case they don’t, we’d better start looking.”

  Instead, they both stood by the door awhile longer, listening in vain for the sound of returning footsteps. Finally, sand filled the two-inch gap in the door from floor to ceiling. There was no chance their friends could return to free them from that direction. Brynn and Phoenix stood for several minutes, staring down at the slow trickle of sand slipping through the space, before at last turning away.

  They walked back into the vast treasure room in slow silence and gazed around blankly. The entire wealth of ancient Egypt didn’t seem all that important any more.

  With just the two of them and only six dim little lights, the room felt a whole lot bigger and spookier – and darker. Phoenix frowned, blinking. Was it his imagination, or was it actually getting darker?

  “Is it my imagination,” Brynn asked sharply, “or is it getting dark....oh.” One by one, Jade’s little green witch-lights faded into pinpoints and popped out of existence with a faint, crack.

  Phoenix and Brynn were alone in the treasure-tomb of ancient mummies, in complete and utter blackness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Phoenix?” Brynn sounded a lot younger all of a sudden. His small hand crept into Phoenix’s and held on. Phoenix squeezed back and took a long, slow breath. His own heart raced at a million miles an hour; he strained to hear the slightest sound over the thumping of his own blood.

  “It’s ok. We’re just stuck in a dark prison – again. What is this, the third or fourth time now?” He tried to make a joke of it and heard Brynn’s weak laugh. “We just need to keep our heads and think. What can we make light with?”

  Brynn let go and Phoenix heard him scrabbling around on the ground at their feet. After a moment, there came a dull clunk. Brynn swore inventively but kept moving. Next the boy grunted in satisfaction and Phoenix heard a sharp, brittle sound like dry branches breaking, followed by a strange, hollow rattle.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “You mean apart from cracking my shin on something hard?” the boy’s acid reply floated back. “I’m making a torch.”

  Sparks jumped from Brynn’s flint, catching on the scraps of tinder cupped in his hand. He blew on them, the red flame a tiny dot in the vast, underground darkness. The flame jumped onto the torch he’d made and soon they had a new, smoky-red light to see by. He held the torch high, lighting another and passing it to Phoenix.

  Phoenix gripped the smooth, rounded wood beneath his fingers, glad to have light again. Smooth, rounded wood? What the...? Turning his head, he looked at the object in his hand – and almost dropped it in shock.

  “Brynn!” He yelped. “Is this Kahotep’s leg bone I’m holding?”

  The boy held out his own torch and grinned. “I’ve got the other one, so at least we know he won’t follow us.”

  Overcoming his squeamishness with difficulty, Phoenix turned towards the opposite end of the great hall, intending to seek an exit there.

  This time, with a hoarse yell, he did drop the torch. It fell, smouldering, at the feet of the tall, black-robed, hooded figure that now stood in their path. Phoenix fell back a pace, drawing Blódbál and holding it ready before him. With a gasp, Brynn drew his own sword and held it out rather shakily.

  A total of twenty robed figures now stood silently before them.

  The leader stepped forward and pushed back the cowl of his robe to reveal a blank, golden mask. His bald head shone in the smoky red light. He lifted a thin, brown hand an
d pointed at Phoenix. The end of each finger was encased in a false, claw-like fingernail of gold. Intricate blue tattoos darkened the skin of his hand.

  “Defilers of the royal tombs; robbers and thieves,” his deep voice sent shivers up Phoenix’s spine. “You have sealed your own fate by your actions. Take them.”

  As one, the nineteen robed men stepped forward and threw back their hoods to expose masks of blood-red. Each held a short, sickle-shaped sword in one hand. Slowly, they advanced, moving to encircle the pair.

  Brynn edged around so his back was against Phoenix’s, his bone-torch still flaring and flickering in one hand. Phoenix reached to unsling his shield from his back, only to remember that it had been lost in the collapse of Snefru’s offering chapel. He cursed and drew his dagger instead.

  The pulse of Blódbál’s magic began to pound in his blood and roar in his ears. He could feel the sword’s thirst; its desire to take over and use his body to wreak havoc. He had to be careful. If he gave in to it with anger in his heart, he’d been warned that it would turn him into a berserker and he would slaughter friend and foe alike without care. Phoenix clamped down on his own fear and anger holding it, like a caged animal, in his churning belly.

  Closer and closer the hooded soldiers approached, their blades shining like blood in the flickering red light. The room’s eerie silence was broken only by Phoenix and Brynn’s harsh breathing, the soft rustle of cloth and the crackle of burning bone and linen. The acrid smell of burnt bone and dust made his eyes water.

  Without warning, three of their attackers lunged at Phoenix. He parried two instinctively, spinning out of the way of the third. The harsh sound of metal-on-metal grated behind him and he knew Brynn was under attack, too. He was not the swordsman Marcus was and Phoenix knew it was only a matter of time before the boy fell under those lethal, curved Egyptian knives.

  Desperately, Phoenix sprang forward, sliding the point of his sword deep into the chest of one man, yanking it back and turning quickly to slice another from shoulder to hip in one move. Both crumpled to the ground without a sound. The others closed the gap and kept coming, forcing Phoenix to retreat back towards Brynn again.

  Turning, he flicked aside a sword aimed at his stomach and stuck out his dagger to deflect another. With a deft, backhanded stab, he took out one cowled figure. His dagger caught in the coarse linen robe and dragged at his arm as the man fell. Phoenix yanked it free, the tearing of cloth the only sound in the vaulted chamber. Rather than risk the same again, he jammed his knife back in its sheath and snatched up one of the Egyptian blades.

  Phoenix risked a quick look behind. Wild-eyed, Brynn panted, his sword stained red. When Phoenix looked back, the golden-masked priest stood over his fallen comrades with his hands outstretched. As Phoenix watched, a flash of deep, blood-purple-blue leapt from those golden claws like dark lighting and earthed itself in their bodies. The two men stirred then, still without making a noise, climbed jerkily to their feet and picked up their weapons.

  “Oh no,” Phoenix muttered. “This is so not good.”

  “What?” Brynn hissed.

  “The two I killed just came back to life.”

  Brynn gasped and Phoenix saw the torchlight quiver as though the hand that held it shook.

  “We’re going to have to cut our way through and make a run for it,” Phoenix murmured from the side of his mouth, watching the dark soldiers. They had stopped attacking and were standing like statues awaiting orders.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Brynn replied, panting.

  No point in waiting. Phoenix drew a deep breath. “Now!”

  With a double war-cry the mismatched warriors leapt at their opponents. Brynn thrust the torch into the robes of one man, who staggered back, batting at the flaming cloth. Phoenix lay about him with grim determination as Blódbál sang its fierce song in his head. Slicing, dodging, parrying, thrusting, turning and chopping Phoenix cut his way through the enemy and broke free. Glancing back only long enough to see Brynn close on his heels, he ran toward the far wall, hoping escape lay in the murky distance.

  Behind them, there was only unnatural silence and the flickering of burning cloth.

  “There!” Brynn gasped, pointing with the torch at a rectangular, dark hole in the wall, half-hidden behind a pillar. Turning, they headed toward it without breaking stride.

  As they reached it, Phoenix grabbed the door frame with the fingertips of his left hand and skidded around, looking back over his shoulder as he did. The masked soldiers were not following. They stood in a loose group around their leader, watching their prey escape.

  Gulping air, Phoenix tried to stop his forward momentum long enough to wonder why but Brynn caromed into him. They both stumbled through the open doorway and into a corridor.

  This one, however, wasn’t empty. It was full of soldiers. Roman soldiers. Dozens of Roman soldiers. Before Phoenix and Brynn could react or even cry out thick, black cloths were flung over their heads. In a split second, they were both disarmed and bound in cloth and rope, their hands pinned neatly to their sides, heads completely covered – prisoners.

  ****

  “Come on, Jade, we have to get out,” Marcus urged her, pushing her before him away from the deepening pile of sand.

  “We can’t leave them.” Glancing over her shoulder, Jade watched with despair as another chunk of limestone fell and was covered as still more golden sand showered down from above.

  “You heard what Phoenix said. It makes sense. We can help them get out if we’re alive. We can’t if we’re dead,” Marcus insisted.

  Jade growled in frustration then turned and fled up the rough corridor toward safety. Tears blurred her vision. She dashed them away and gripped her staff more tightly. She should have been able to do something. What was the point of being a Spellweaver if your spells weren’t strong enough to save your friends?

  It took only a minute to reach the end of the tunnel. There, they scrambled back up the steep, slippery slope to Mehu’s tomb. At the top, Jade sent a guilty, relieved look at Marcus. He caught her eye in grave approval. The secret door back into the tomb had slid most of the way closed. Only the large piece of rock she had wedged into it prevented them from being trapped, too. Jade clenched her teeth. If only she’d thought to do the same at the other end.

  Marcus gripped her shoulder and spun her to face him. She flinched away, feeling the burn from his iron gloves even through her clothes.

  “Enough,” he ordered. “I know what you’re thinking and this is not your fault. None of us thought to prop the other door open. You cannot hold yourself responsible for everyone else’s happiness and wellbeing, Jade – only your own.”

  She glared at him for a moment then closed her eyes. It was true. She did feel responsible; she did feel like she ought to be better at looking after people, pleasing and making them happy. Shaking herself, Jade tried to push aside her self-doubts. She gripped his arm.

  “I... I’ll try to remember. Let’s go rescue Phoenix and Brynn.”

  Marcus nodded, apparently satisfied. He squeezed through the narrow gap, grunting as the stone scraped his chest and back. Jade eased through without difficulty and together they stood in Mehu’s magnificent tomb once more.

  Racing back to the exit, they found the horses still standing calmly at the broken entrance. The sandstorm was over. An eerie silence now blanketed the land, along with a fresh layer of golden sand.

  “Let’s leave the horses here for the time being,” Jade suggested. “It’s not far to the pyramid and they’ll be safe here.”

  Marcus agreed and they left the tomb. Dusk was not far off. In the west, the sky was afire – alight with a breathtaking, brilliant, blood-red sunset. Jade stopped, stunned by the vision.

  “The sunsets have been like this since Mount Vesuvius erupted a few months ago and buried Pompeii in its ash,” Marcus said his eyes dark and solemn. “It always seems to bode ill.” He shook his head as if to be rid of a bad memory and nodded toward the silho
uette of the pyramid.

  Side by side, they clambered out of the shallow wadi that housed the entrance to Mehu’s tomb and jogged toward the towering step pyramid. In the failing light, they had to be careful. The area was strewn with ruined buildings, scattered stones and old foundations. It would be easy to break an ankle.

  Finally they came out of the ruins and crossed a wide, level, open space on the south side of the pyramid. As they neared the base of the first giant stone step, Marcus gripped Jade’s arm and pointed down. Close to where they stood, sand slowly slid into a long, shallow depression in the ground.

  “This must be where the roof caved in,” he said.

  She inspected the solid stone wall before them. There was no sign of an entrance to the pyramid.

  “We’ll have to go around and see if the entrance is on the other side,” she decided. As much as she hated to leave the place where Phoenix and Brynn were buried, there was no easy way in on this side. If there was a simple entrance, it would be a lot faster to use it than to try and break down the whole southern wall in an attempt to find a hidden one.

  She followed Marcus around the eastern side of the pyramid, picking her way through the tumbled rocks and debris, glancing up to peer at the crumbling stone steps above in search an entrance. This place must be old to have fallen into complete ruin. So who was responsible for amassing all that treasure beneath such a decrepit old building complex? Why hide it here?

  The last orange hints of sunset were fading quickly. The moon was yet to rise, so Jade blew life into three little witch-fires again and sent them bobbing ahead to light the way. They had to get Phoenix and Brynn out soon. Who knew what was happening down there. How much air did they have? How long would her lights last without her magic nearby? She really didn’t like the idea of leaving her friends entombed with dozens of dead bodies and no light for a whole night. Jade shuddered at the thought.