Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  “Dear granddaughter, I’m so sorry for what Set has done to you. Ivan and the rest of the Council have sworn to forsake the swift release of death in his case. He will suffer for a very, very long time.”

  While part of my mind danced a merry jig at the thought of Set suffering an eternity of torture, I wondered if it would ever come to pass. Likely as not, the rest of us would end up being the victims of a hell inflicted by my father. And it all depended on me. Oh joy. I really hated him.

  “Thanks, Alexander,” I said, giving my grandpa a final squeeze. “I really appreciate the . . . er . . . sentiment.”

  After we broke apart, I received greetings and hugs from the others, including a promise from Kat to “kick that phony god’s pretty ass” if he ever stepped out of line. She hadn’t been talking about Set.

  “Can we show her now?” Neffe asked, breaking through the good-humored reunion.

  When Marcus nodded, Neffe reached for me and clasped her hand around my wrist, tugging me out of the cluster of Nejerets. Setting a quicker pace than I’d expected with her shorter legs, she dragged me through the blocky entryway to the upper courtyard and immediately turned right, following a tall, limestone wall. Multiple rows of polygonal columns were arranged evenly near the perimeter of the rectangular courtyard, broken off at various heights. Some still held vestiges of their ancient decorations, haphazard chunks emblazoned with faded amber hieroglyphs and depictions of the ancient gods.

  Freeing my wrist from Neffe’s sharp-nailed grasp, I stopped with a slight stumble. “Thanks, Neffe, but I can walk on my own.”

  “Sorry,” she said, shooting a wary look over my shoulder. I knew what she was watching, or rather, who; I could feel Marcus’s proximity even before his arm slipped around my waist. “I’m just a little excited.”

  “A little?” Dominic said, sneering as he passed her.

  Neffe jogged for a few steps to reclaim her position as guide, and we followed. “You see, Lex, for weeks we haven’t been able to make any progress because we needed you,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ve explored every part of the temple and have found the chest containing the ankh-At—it’s pretty hard to miss, really—but, like Nuin’s prophecy says, ‘No person except for the Meswett shall be able to access the ankh-At.’ You’re the only Meswett there is, and with you here, we’ll finally be able to open the chest and get to the ankh-At. I just can’t believe it’s all finally happening!” she exclaimed excitedly. I guess she’s not worried that I’ll cave in, obey Set, and destroy the world . . .

  She led us through a small doorway leading into an open-air chamber. In its center stood what had once been a sun altar, a large square platform of decaying limestone. In singles and pairs, we followed Neffe diagonally across the debris-strewn ground to an even smaller opening in the opposite wall. My heart sped in anticipation of finally being able to enter Senenmut’s secret temple. Begrudgingly, I admitted it was equally Set’s secret temple.

  Our clustered train of Nejerets narrowed to a single-file line so we could all pass through the slim doorway into the enclosed sanctuary of the upper Anubis Chapel. Vibrant colors covered the walls of the long room as well as its smaller annex, which was accessible by a petite doorway near the back left corner of the sanctuary. The sight of them sent a thrill through me. Seeing them in the modern time, thousands of years after they were first created, was totally different than seeing their pristine perfection in the At. For me, the beauty and magic of being an archaeologist was in uncovering what was hidden, in being the first to see or touch something in thousands of years.

  Dominic stood aside at the end of the sanctuary, allowing me to enter the annex directly behind Neffe. A piece of my archaeologist soul shattered when I saw the long wall on the right—its decoration completely destroyed. However, the cavernous rectangle of glowing light in the center of the ruined wall more than made up for it. It was the entrance into the hidden temple.

  “Archaeology is a destructive process,” my Archy 101 professor’s voice echoed in my head. I could almost see him standing on the raised dais, explaining that the world’s beloved Pompeii would be completely destroyed the next time Mt. Vesuvius erupted, all because we’d uncovered it, exposing it to the world. But it’s worth it, right?

  While we waited for Neffe to unlock an iron gate blocking the previously hidden opening, I looked behind me at Marcus. One glance at the Nejerets packed into the sanctuary behind him and unexpected claustrophobia bloomed inside me. Even with the clear ropes of LED lights strung along the ground and only three of us actually standing in the annex, I was feeling suddenly, uncomfortably trapped.

  Picking up on my distress, Marcus ordered, “Everyone back to camp but Dom, Alex, and Neffe.” As they shuffled out, he added, “I want guards on the chapel entrance.”

  Seconds later, Marcus’s eyes fell on Kat’s slender, tan figure—she was still standing in the sanctuary. “Why are you still here, girl?”

  “Because Dom promised I could come with you guys, man.” She sounded every bit the sullen teen, but a diamond-hard vein ran through her words. She’s got backbone, that’s for sure.

  “Dom should be careful of what he promises.” Marcus’s jaw was clenched, and he was staring straight at Dominic. “But, if he’s up to babysitting”—he turned back to Kat—“accompany us, by all means.”

  I rolled my eyes, exasperated that he’d entered his bossy, former-god state of mind. “Cut it out, Marcus—this is neither the time nor the place for a pissing contest.” Given half the chance in his current state of mind, he would argue the most unimportant matters to the ground.

  I flinched at seeing the cold look he turned on me, watching as its iciness thawed, and with narrowed eyes, heated to inappropriate levels. “This isn’t the time or place for that, either!” I hissed, feeling exceptionally uncomfortable about the four sets of eyes watching us.

  “The . . . um . . . gate’s unlocked. So . . . shall we enter?” Neffe asked tentatively.

  “Yes,” I breathed, utterly thankful for her interruption. “Please.”

  Where ground met wall on either side, more LED ropes lined the passageway, illuminating everything surprisingly well. The persistent white light seemed eerily out of place within the rough-hewn corridor. There were chisel marks covering the walls, running from the ceiling down to the floor like streaming water. Passing through the entrance behind Neffe, I could easily touch both walls and the ceiling without extending my arms completely. My heartbeat sped up with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as we burrowed further into Deir el-Bahri’s limestone cliffs.

  “This is totally better than air conditioning,” Kat whispered. The temperature was dropping noticeably—an immense relief. The sound of her soft words bounced off the walls until they faded out of existence. Somebody, likely Dominic, shushed her.

  Reaching behind me, I found Marcus’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze, hoping he would hold his tongue. Neither patience nor tolerance was among the skills he’d honed during his long life.

  After several minutes of moving at our slow pace, we reached a point in the passageway where it abruptly branched into four separate corridors. Two were perpendicular to the main passageway while two more evenly split the way going forward, creating a crisp corner straight ahead.

  “This is odd,” I said quietly as Neffe stopped at the intersection. She turned around and nodded sedately, clasping her hands in front of her.

  Without further direction, I wandered down the passageway on my left, running my fingers along the walls as I went. The chisel marks were different there, running horizontally instead of vertically. I estimated the offshoot to be half as long as the main corridor—maybe fifty meters—and was intrigued to find that my arms were far more outstretched when I neared the end than they had been at the beginning. In the light from the LED ropes, I could see that a niche was cut into the wall at the end of the passage, twice as tall as it was wide. Reaching out, I traced the two-foot-tall ankh carved into the limestone
at its center. My fingers started at the bottom, followed the straight stem of the symbol up until it split into an upside-down teardrop, worked their way around the curve, and ended by tracing the perpendicular line crossing the symbol at its midpoint.

  “Life,” I whispered. It was beautiful in its simplicity, both in shape and meaning.

  Looking behind me, I was surprised to find that Marcus hadn’t followed. Instead, he was locked in a hushed, extremely intense conversation with his daughter . . . in Middle Egyptian. I headed back up the passage, rejoining the fiercely whispering pair. They cut their words short as I neared them.

  “Something wrong?” I asked quietly.

  Neither Neffe nor Marcus said anything, and I figured Marcus was trying to hide something from me—again. Frustrated, I brushed past them, heading down the nearest corridor—one of the middle passageways. The limestone walls of the faintly curving passage had been polished completely smooth, making them seem impossibly modern. With the pale, artificial light from the LED ropes, I easily could have been in an elegant hotel or a contemporary monument.

  When I paused and looked over my shoulder, I found that I was far enough down the corridor for its curvature to hide me from the five-way intersection. Footsteps, quick and determined, preceded Marcus as he came into view. Upon seeing him, I turned and continued down the passageway.

  Sooner than I’d expected, he clamped his fingers around my upper arm, stopping me mid-step. “What exactly is the problem, Lex?”

  “That you’re hurting my arm,” I told him. In the unnerving white light, his golden features appeared pale . . . gray. I must have looked ghostly.

  Face blank, Marcus watched me. He didn’t loosen his grip. He didn’t glower. He just stared, passive.

  I looked down at the floor, noticing it was just as smooth as the walls. “You’re hiding something from me. Last time you did that, you left. And before that, I had to discover what I am on my own. So, what is it?” I asked, my voice small. I raised my eyes to his.

  Finally, he released my arm. “Whether or not you should be allowed to open the chest today. Neffe thinks you should. I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  He sighed, and reached out a hand to brush the backs of his fingers across my cheek. “I just got you back . . . and we don’t know what opening the chest will do.”

  “I see,” I said, frowning. “But you don’t have a problem with me seeing it, do you?”

  Shaking his head, Marcus took hold of my hand and pulled me back into motion. His mood instantly shifted to that of a little boy approaching the shimmering, present-strewn tree on Christmas morning. He led me down the passageway, the curve growing increasingly severe the further we walked. My mental blueprints of the temple were developing into an exciting, familiar shape.

  “Does this corridor meet up with the other?” I asked eagerly.

  “Yes.”

  So it’s shaped like an ankh! “Then where’s the . . .” On the outer wall a short way ahead, a spot of light brighter than that of the LED ropes came into view. It was oddly shaped, reaching from floor to ceiling, and symmetrical with irregular waves and points on either side. And it was warmer than the harsh white luminescence of the LEDs. After a brief moment, I realized it was the reflection of light through a doorway into a more brightly lit area. My pace slowed as I savored the delicious anticipation.

  Six steps nearer, huge carved shapes took form on the inner wall. At first I thought it was a column, one of two framing the doorway, with its relatively featureless length and jutting protrusion a foot from the ceiling.

  Four more steps and the base of the column started to look less like a base and more like a huge paw with finger-length claws. Another step and my eyes traveled up a five-foot-long foreleg to a strong, canine shoulder, sinuous neck, and long, downward curving muzzle.

  After five final steps, I was standing before the monstrous statue, horrified. It was an enormous Set-animal, like the tattoo on the backs of the necks of Set’s human followers. One of a pair, it was seated, looking like a gigantic greyhound with the snout of an anteater. With its partner five feet beyond, it seemed to hold sentry over the doorway—or what was beyond.

  I briefly glanced through the doorway. At least, the glance was intended to be brief. “Oh my God,” I whispered, stepping between the statues and into a breathtaking chamber.

  Vibrant, almost violent swirls of color covered the walls and ceiling of the cavernous space. As I traced the line of the nearest wall all the way around the room and then overhead, I realized it was one continuous surface. The chamber was, in fact, a dome. With a floor that looked to be around forty meters in diameter, and curved proportions that I would’ve wagered measured into a flawless, geometric half-sphere, it was the least Egyptian and most architecturally astounding site I’d ever seen. How Senenmut had hollowed out a twenty-meter-high dome in the heart of the limestone cliffs with Middle Kingdom technology was beyond me. Maybe he cheated by peeking into the future for help.

  “Eat your heart out, Brunelleschi,” I whispered as I drew closer to the wall near the entrance. “And Michelangelo,” I added, observing the fine detail of the seamless mural. Inlayed into the millennia-old paint, adding delightful chaos to the decoration, were colored stones, gems, and glass beads. Each matched the color in which it was set, but stood out by shimmering in the warm glow of the modern bulbs that had been placed evenly around the chamber. I was actually a little surprised that the floor wasn’t decorated as well, though the highly polished limestone did a good job of reflecting the dizzying colors.

  “It’s just like in the At.” My reverent words drew Marcus into the chamber.

  “Yes,” he whispered, stopping close behind me. “Senenmut was far beyond his time, even for a Nejeret. Set did our kind a great disservice by killing him.” A little louder, he said, “Neffe, you may join us now.”

  I reached out my hand, but before my fingers could brush what looked like a very large, irregularly wispy strip of gold inlay in the brightly colored wall, Marcus caught my wrist. “I wouldn’t,” he said softly. His breath tickled the back of my neck, and I shivered. “It’s quite fragile. The only reason it didn’t crumble off a thousand years ago is that there was no air flow and no real temperature or moisture fluctuation. But now—”

  “I really hate that, you know. We’re destroying it just by being here,” I said, sounding wistful and a little despondent.

  “You wanted to be an archaeologist, Little Ivanov. You have to take the good with the bad.” Marcus’s voice changed as he moved away, toward the center of the floor. “Would you rather beautiful, ancient things remain hidden, or share their glory with the world? Or would you prefer to just see them in the At? You must remember that nothing lasts forever—not even us.”

  I pondered his words but said nothing.

  “It’s beautiful, is it not?” Neffe remarked as she entered the domed chamber. “Josh has come up with a very interesting preservation idea. He plans to use a specially prepared spray adhesive to glaze and protect the dome.”

  “Aren’t we just sealing the entrance back up?” I asked, turning to her.

  She nodded. “But the damage, I fear, is done.”

  Frowning, I turned toward the center of the chamber . . . toward Marcus and what I’d been ignoring. A three-foot-high circular dais had been left by the workers when they carved the chamber into the solid limestone. Resting on the raised platform was the object that could be nothing other than the chest containing the ankh-At.

  The thing was a study of opposites—ancient Egyptian and modern, clear and opaque, moving and still, always and a single moment. It looked like somebody had taken a beautifully carved Old Kingdom chest, set it on fire, and then frozen time and transformed the entire jumble into crystal. It was hypnotizing and disturbing and the single most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. In its presence, I completely forgot the stunning dome overhead.

  “Oh . . . oh, wow.” My voice was hushed, awed.

&nb
sp; Marcus turned away from the chest and watched me, his expression expectant. Because he was looking at me, he couldn’t see what happened to the chest as I moved closer.

  It began to glow.

  “Oh . . .” I said, but lost the capacity for words as the chest’s internal light shone brighter, extending to the upward-reaching tendrils. It called to me, almost hummed, sending a hair-raising tingling sensation all over my body.

  Seeing the glow reflected on my skin, Marcus murmured, “What the—”

  “It’s never—” Neffe said at the same time that Alexander exclaimed, “Deus! It’s glowing!”

  Marcus grabbed my forearm. “Lex? I don’t think you should do that.”

  Faintly, I heard him, and the hand I’d been reaching out to touch the glorious monstrosity paused inches from its surface. I felt like I was locked in a bubble of frozen time. I could hear and see everything going on around me, but I couldn’t join. I was set apart . . . but I’d always been separate, apart from the rest of the world. I just hadn’t known. I just hadn’t remembered. And at the moment, I just couldn’t speak.

  A long moment of silence was broken by a muffled crack, and then another. Marcus released my wrist and turned away, probably to look for the source of the noise, but he didn’t account for the freedom letting go would give me, and I didn’t have the self-restraint to stop myself. My fingers inched forward and brushed the surface of the iridescent, glowing chest.

  Instantly, the temple disappeared from my muted awareness, and the unbearably beautiful glow became everything. It was everywhere . . . everywhen. Nothing existed outside of it. I was it, and it was me.

  Encapsulated in its warmth and comfort, I never wanted to leave. Finally, for the first time in my life, I was at peace.

  31

  Once & Again

  “My dear Alexandra,” the richest, most melodious voice said in a language I only understood because Nuin had taken the effort to teach me years ago. “I see it is time. But then, it has always been time. Always and never.”