Flashback

by Dawn Carter

  Inside the tomb, torches burned high, setting the place aglow in every color imaginable, but as it was, they could only gleam dully in the flicker of a primitive torch or two. The ones who’d lived decades ago no longer were in need of the light. Her eyes glowed brighter, floating like two disembodied emeralds in the dimness. One of the torches flared and then sputtered in a small gust of wind, and the light bounced off her when she moved. The faint glint of an artifact adorned the entrance of a doorway. The glossy blackness of the entrance whispered softly across the sand on the ground.

  Within it, she kept her eyes on the one thing that held her interest. The one thing that she knew mattered more than anything else at that moment. A statue of herself, adorned with the same jewels she’d had tattooed on her neck, arms and feet. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she was where she belonged.

  She stepped to the mouth of the tomb, peering inside to the south, where the torch burned. She lifted her head and sniffed the air, nose twitching, eyes searching. She'd hoped that her sudden visit there would provide...something. Anything. She'd sensed so strongly that it would. But now, she was beginning to doubt her own beliefs. She clasped her hands together and stared at the shrine. There was nothing, not even the smallest of feelings. She dropped to her knees, grabbed a handful of her hair and smeared it across her face in grief. She clutched her chest and cried out. She was in the same corridor where, in her dream, she’d held Anai in her arms—but there was nothing there. She couldn’t even feel energy coming from the sarcophagus, no matter what her eyes told her, in her heart she knew, this was not her final resting place.

  From a distance, she heard the echo of voices bouncing off the walls. A voice at the door told her that she was not allowed in the room. She turned and lowered her head. If you only knew who might have rested in that stone coffin.

  The soothing voice spoke again, this time calling her name. Spencer spun around, eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. The name the older gentleman had used wasn’t her name in this lifetime, but that of her past. Yiara!

  ●●●

  The Egyptian priest stepped beside her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. He bowed his head. “You have come home,” he said softly; he did not need to hear her story. From the moment he had watched her enter the ruins, he had seen the likeness. Just as the storekeeper had described her to him the day before. Yet she was not the first to come back from the dead, and he had a feeling there would soon be a revelation for the destined meeting.

  “You know?” Her voice sounded strained.

  He nodded, and held out his hand to help her to her feet. Spencer slid her hand into his as she allowed him to lead her from the tomb, down the long corridor into the open air.

  She spun around and asked in a low voice, “What does it all mean?”

  He said nothing as he watched her move around. He had researched the curse put upon the two lover’s souls, but he still had not discovered why, or how it could be broken. Seeing her now, the likeness, there was no mistake—she and the other woman he’d encountered were destined to meet.

  Stepping outside the ruins, Spencer looked over the wasteland of hot, molten sand, leaned her head forward, and pressed her knuckles to her temples. He could tell she was ignoring him. From the way she bit her bottom lip, he could see she was agonizing over everything and couldn't figure it out. He understood what she was going through. When the scrolls were first brought to his attention, they hadn’t made sense. How could two souls be trapped and at the same time, two other souls be reborn century after century, to relive their lives?

  Spencer stepped back. He could see from the way she held onto the pillar, the way her eyes glossed over, that she might pass out. He reached out to her, but she pulled back. “Don’t, I can’t…I need to think.” Her eyes searched the room. “I’ve dreamed about her my entire life, but this can’t be. I... I don’t want to know any more right now.”

  Giving her time to digest the information, the old priest stepped aside, where she could not see him, and watched her run off toward the others waiting for her outside. As she faded out of sight, he let out a small sigh, and started to turn away.

  A younger priest joined him. “Why didn't you tell her?”

  “I don’t think she’s ready.” The older priest glanced at his younger companion. “She has much to learn and overcome first.”

  The younger priest frowned. “What happens once the two souls come together?”

  The older priest sighed aloud and placed his hand on the young priest's shoulder. “I pray the cycle will come to an end.”

  “By not telling her, are you omitting half of the truth?” The younger priest spoke loud enough that his voice echoed off the columns. When the older priest held up his hand, he lowered his voice. “Why couldn’t you just tell her?”

  The old priest shook his head slowly. “You have much to learn; she’s not ready for what’s to come.” He touched his arm again. “Come. The matter is out of our hands for now.”

  ●●●

  The start of a new day, under the hot sun, back on the camel. Spencer slid her fingers under the silk material covering her head and combed through her hair. She hadn’t slept well because she couldn’t get the old priest and what he’d said out of her mind. She knew her running into the man in the tomb was no coincidence; he had purposely sought her out, and she was sure he knew more, and that he had the answers she needed. “How else would he have known my name?” She cursed herself once she had arrived back at the hotel, when it occurred to her that she did not know him or how to find him. What was I thinking? She recalled looking over her shoulder, the temptation to turn the camel around and go back came to mind, but as the wind had picked up, the footsteps from the animals in the sand were disappearing. The last thing she needed was to get lost.

  It was a new day, and there were answers out there, and she was determined to find them.

  After traveling south from Cairo for half the day, the tour reached their next destination, located on the West Bank of the Nile: The Palace of Amenhotep III. Her eyes widened when she saw the huge structure.

  Spencer quickly dismounted, and eyed the reminiscences of the past. There was a familiarity about it. She frowned as she looked around. Once again, she felt the same pulling she had the day before, and as much as she wanted to take off running and see what it was, she was bound to stay with her guide, Mohammad. He had reminded her that her safety was his priority, and he could not have her running off from the group.

  Once inside the first structure, Mohammad directed the group down through a well-lit corridor. Spencer hung back, and once the group was gone, she snuck down several corridors, closed her eyes, and allowed her instinct to direct her. The palace was beautiful, but she was not sure it was home. She reached a large entrance leading into what looked like sleeping quarters, startling the nesting birds, which took flight, their wings flapping just over her head. Once she crossed the threshold, she was instantly transformed back in time—what was left of the room came alive. There was a large bed adorned with crafted statues. Spencer was standing in the same spot she had as a child in another life. There was no mistaking it now. She was home, and she knew what she needed to do. She had to find Anai. Neither of them would rest until they were reunited.

  Chapter 10

  Back at the hotel, Spencer sat outside by the pool. Her mind swarmed with information. She had dreamed her entire life, but today she hadn’t been dreaming; her past had unfolded right before her eyes. She had been awake. Everywhere she had turned, images that had haunted her from the past exploded into life. She could hear the conversations, feel the breeze. Yet the images could not see her. She had become a spectator, looking on to her past. When Anai had walked passed her, her heart found its home in her throat. She had never imagined the love she had felt would feel as real as it did at that moment.

  “I can help you understand what is happening,” the old priest said from the other side of the gated pool.

&n
bsp; The presence of the old priest from the ruins snapped her out of her internal rant, and she spun around. Instead of running to him demanding the answers, she averted her gaze. “I don’t see how you can.” Spencer waited anxiously for him to speak, to say anything, yet still he didn't. He mutely stood, gesturing his hand for her to open the side gate to allow him in.

  “I am Shamod, Guardian of the Scrolls. Let us have a drink, I have much to tell you,” he finally said once inside.

  In a half smile, she pursed her lips and exploded in laughter. “Since when does a man of God drink?” Not finding him totally believable, she still followed him to the pool bar and sat on the stool across from him.

  “Drink? I am not that kind of priest.” He handed her the glass, she didn't protest his offer, and took a sip, holding the fluid under her tongue and swirling it around. Although she would rather he just fess up and tell her what he knew, she had no choice but to wait. There was a reason he was hesitating.

  He sat across from her and clasped his hands between his knees, giving her the same anxious look. She didn't say anything, just stared into the drink as she swirled it in the cup. He sighed and finally said, “No matter the cost, you cannot run from what is about to come, or the cycle will never end.”

  “Do I have a reason to be scared?” Spencer asked quietly.

  He sat forward, fists clenched on his knees. “There’s no danger in what’s about to come, but you will still need to be brave.”

  Spencer lifted her head and finally met his eyes. “I’m not going to lie. I’m scared. This is all so surreal. I have been waiting for this all my life. I’m ready for whatever is about to happen.”

  An uneasy tension gave way to a heavy silence. Glances were exchanged with each passing second; Spencer needed answers, and she believed him. With his help, the story behind the past mixed with the present would finally be answered.

  “Join me for dinner tonight, I have a few things to show you.” Spencer nodded and took the paper with the address scribbled in red ink.

  “I’ll be there.” Spencer stood before him, ready to see fate to the end.

  He stood, bowed and wished her well.

  ●●●

  Back in her room, Spencer lay upon the bed and stared up at the canopy. She tried to will her mind to go blank, but every so often, she would find it wandering back to the old priest who had expressed his willingness to help, and who had shown her several scrolls that would bring her life to fruition.

  She chewed on her lip and agonized over the situation. Part of her said that it all sounded crazy, but the other part of her said it all made perfect sense. Too tired to think, she allowed herself to close her eyes, but with the sound of her thundering heart, she opened them and stared at the canopy again. She remembered the tone of the priest’s voice. At first, he had sounded remorseful when he'd spoken the prophecy, then his voice had filled with hope, and she had found herself getting excited. It was nearing the time to leave, and she was ready.

  ●●●

  The driver waited as instructed for Spencer to be allowed entrance into the building. As soon as she knocked, she heard the shuffling of feet coming from the other side, and the large oak doors creaked as they opened. Inside, a much younger man, dressed in a long smock, with a white rope draped around his waist, bowed slightly and waved his hand inward for her to enter.

  “My name’s Spencer, and I’m here to see Shamod,” she said, then nervously averted her gaze.

  “I am Hemed, come, he waits for you in the library.” Still bowed, he cast his eyes upwards, taking her in. His eyes widened, showing his astonishment at him how much she resembled the queen.

  Age ten and orphaned when his parents perished during the Gulf War, Hemed had no choice but to join the ministry. Shamod, who had no children, had willingly taken the young lad under his wing, and taught him everything he knew.

  The young apprentice had grown into adulthood, and had been given the task of working in the archives department in the Great Library of Alexandria, to interpret and translate ancient scrolls. Two scrolls in particular had baffled him. They spoke of a curse trapping two souls to live hundreds of lives, never resting until they were once again united. The further he had gotten into the translation—the more the heartfelt story came into focus. A small kingdom not far from Cairo, called Giza Plateau, had suffered many losses. The King’s wife had died under mysterious circumstances, their only child, a daughter, Yiara, had taken on her mother’s role as Queen, and had, at the age of 17, also died under suspicious circumstances. As her blood had spilled into the sand, a curse had been placed over the kingdom.

  Hemed was hooked; he had dug and dug through the archives until he had found several likeness of the Princess who had become Queen. Now he finally had a face to put with the curse. He had dug even further, and had also come across another portrait; it was a young bride who had become Queen within a year. But when her husband had died, she had left, and had never been never heard from again. Soon after, the kingdom had crumbled.

  The more he delved into the history, the more intrigued he had become. A prophecy attached to one of the ancient scrolls foretold of a chance meeting during two major events. The first one, a Great Festival, one of Egypt’s largest religious events in the Muslim calendar. The second, when the two lovers would meet, and their souls would be reunited. It talked of when Venus crosses the face of the Sun, bringing the two hearts together as one. He knew nothing of space, but as he researched, he found it was a rare event that only occurs every hundred years, and the next one would be in less than seven months.

  Wanting to witness what was about to pass, he had ventured across Egypt to join his teacher in Cairo. The journey had not been easy for Hemed. He was not bronze, like his fellow Egyptians, so he had to have several wraps covering his pale skin, and sunglasses to protect his grey eyes. Taking his looks from both his Egyptian mother and British father, Hemed was tall, lean, and handsome. He was well respected by his peers, and adored by all the native women. Yet he had become so driven, he never took notice.

  Eight months had since passed, and he was now looking at the woman who had lived hundreds, maybe thousands, of lives to be with her soul mate.

  Chapter 11

  Spencer’s head rested upon the library table, her mouth slightly open as she dozed. Half-read scrolls littered the table around her, most of their contents useless. One scroll was indicative of someone being buried alive. She found that interesting, since she knew she had passed by her own hand. Therefore, it would have to have been her father, or Anai.

  In her hand, bound in red leather cracked and dry with age, a thin volume of notes smelled faintly of musk and dust. The pages within were brittle, and what remained of the book’s original stitching was barely holding it together. A faint scrawl on the inside of the cover declared that the journal had once belonged to someone who might have been one of Spencer’s former lives. The first page began in the middle of a sentence, suggesting that either there were pages missing, or that there was another volume before this one. Unfortunately, the journal’s poor condition made it impossible to tell which. It was a nice piece of history, but it offered no help in solving the mystery.

  When she’d been invited, she’d had no idea they would be pulling an all-night research session. She had thought Shamod had all the answers, but apparently, he did not. Tired, she now cursed her own laziness before hurrying to read through the rest of the scrolls. She frowned in disbelief when she finally found what she was looking for nestled in the pile. She was positive she had already examined that scroll twice already, so how had she missed it? She stared at the far wall, which might as well have been the same as staring into the abyss itself for how black it was. The pain in her head had receded to a dull throb, which nevertheless kept her awake. She didn't complain, not even to herself.

  The translated document the young priest gave her put things into perspective. Yiara had cursed the words just before her death, and in return, inflicted punishm
ent not only on herself and Anai, but on the entire kingdom. Spencer was on information overload, and her emotions felt as if they were ready to spiral. She was going to have to help break the curse that had affected so many. That was a lot on her shoulders, more than she was sure she was capable of handling.

  When the old priest walked back in the room, Spencer unrolled the scroll upon her lap and started to point to one section, but the priest snatched it away from her before she could speak aloud. He walked about the room, looking it over while she sat, fiddling her fingers awkwardly.

  ●●●

  At six o’clock the next morning, the air was already humid, creating an uncomfortable stickiness that surrounded Egyptologist Claire Nelson as she stepped from her four-wheel-drive. What had once been a thriving kingdom, with thousands of inhabitants, was now, millenniums later, a deserted tourist attraction. It seemed like such a waste, but without it, she would not have a job.

  With a rag, Claire wiped the sweat from her broad, shoulders, but as soon as she removed the moisture from her athletic arms and chest, her bronze skin immediately glistened again. Even though she had pinned her shoulder-length, black hair neatly into a ponytail, it did not offer her any relief. Slipping off her shirt, she threw it into the back seat and gathered her tools.

  She prayed they were not on another wild goose chase. Just three weeks earlier, Claire and her crew had uncovered the tablet; finally they had something to go on: a map etched in stone. Right afterwards, Claire had made an agreement with Egypt's Department of Antiquities, or, really the local government had made the agreement on her behalf, that Claire and her crew could take the tablet and a few of the other artifacts to their office in Cairo, to see what they could make of them. The majority of the find would remain in Alexandria, to be studied by Egyptian experts. Claire wasn't sure what her benefactor had promised or given to make this unusual event possible, but she wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth. The fact that they were going to get to spend a few weeks analyzing all of this material was priceless beyond measure.