Taking a deep breath, Verity scrambled to her feet to see in the far passageway the Silver Pharaoh, his body encased in tattered ceremonial wrappings of royalty, his eyes alight with the brilliant green flame she had seen in the library. His gaze was locked on her.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Key to a Pharaoh’s Heart
Verity scrambled to her feet to follow the frantic Doctor Williams back into the first chamber. A howl tore through the air, and from behind her, a green light flared so bright it cast her shadow ahead of her. She dodged to her right, knowing there wasn’t a straight path to the door, unlike the mad Egyptologist who had forgotten about the two corpses stretched across the floor. He gave a shrill cry as he fell, and then a moment later came the wail of a man teetering on the edge of sanity who comes face to face with the dead.
The Silver Pharaoh, far more vivid than he appeared in the library, did not chase Verity even though she was in plain sight. He stopped where the Delancys and completely hysterical Williams lay and gave what could only be described as a wild roar. The tatters hanging from his wrappings were flapping seemingly of their own accord. Either that, or the Pharaoh himself was conjuring some form of æther around him.
Lobelia Delancy would have been able to tell—were she still alive.
She could hear Williams whimpering like a child frantic after a nightmare. Psusennes raised a hand to his face and clawed into the wrappings there, tearing them free to reveal his face twisted in incandescent anger. The emerald light from his eye sockets gleamed brighter—and from the sudden wave of heat, hotter—than any sun than that hung over England. Whatever happened between the two of them in the reconstructed tomb, it was not pleasant, that much was obvious.
Psusennes was yelling now, his unknown words guttural and grating, sounding as if they were pronouncements of Thoth himself.
“I don’t know! I don’t understand!” Williams howled. “Oh God, I can’t understand it—I told you!”
The Pharaoh stood to his full height and shook his head. The fury across his aged, stretched face yielded to disappointment. He muttered something before reaching for Williams with outstretched hands.
“Psusennes…” Verity whispered.
The monster stopped, and both he and the frantic old man looked over to her. She whispered his name again, lifting her hands up to the ancient ruler, and bowed down before him. Again, she whispered his name, and bowed before him again.
“Yes, girl, that’s it!” Williams whispered, “Seven times.” On the fourth bow, he asked, “How do you know of the Amarna letters?”
“My father,” she said as she bowed. That was number five. “He was an archaeologist. That and what I read about at the Museum.”
“I should be so blessed to have more patrons of your ilk,” he muttered.
Verity choked back the urge to tell him it was during one of his lectures he paused to have her escorted out of the museum. She distinctly remembered him glancing at her and using the term raffish. Would it shock this man of learning that she knew seeing a pharaoh was the equivalent of seeing a god to the ancient Egyptians? What she did now was a gesture of total subservience, as well as survival.
A hot breeze ran over her skin as she finished the seventh bow. She did not dare look him in the eye, but she strained her gaze upward to try and steal a glimpse at the ruler from many millennia ago.
Psusennes was looking down at her, utterly ignoring the scientist, his ancient eyes once again examining her closely. The Pharaoh spoke, but his words—still deep and ominous—were of a much softer tone. He gave a gesture for her to rise, and Verity dared to straighten up and sit back on her heels. If Williams just kept his wits about him, there might be a chance of them both getting out alive.
Granted, the Egyptologist was not the only one struggling at present to hold onto reason and sanity. Verity wanted to believe this was some kind of incredible construct of technology—what stood before her, what she smelled, what she heard—but it was all rooted in reality. Agent Thorne told them enough tales of the supernatural, and Verity realized she should have taken more notice of them. Ghosts, spectres, and apparitions had been of no interest to her before, but she had to quickly learn.
The entire chamber shook, knocking a pair of jars off a stone shelf. Psusennes looked around him and then muttered something as he heard another distant explosion.
“What’s going on out there?” Williams asked.
“The school is under siege,” Verity said, “and it sounds like we may be in danger.”
“Now don’t worry, Charity Verity,” a voice spoke from behind her, “we are quite safe in this quaint little hiding place of yours.”
Verity spun on her heels to see Suzanne and Stella standing by the massive silver door. Both girls were slightly dirty—a shock in itself alone—but accomplished in what they had discovered. Stella, much to Verity’s surprise, was armed.
“Suzanne, Stella, what the hell are you doing?” Verity spluttered.
“We’re taking advantage of an opportunity,” Stella said. “Aren’t we, Suzanne?”
“Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God’s handwriting,” Suzanne returned, her pistol trained on Verity and not the Pharaoh. “So my father says.”
Pistol or not, Verity could not let that pass. “That’s Ralph Waldo Emmerson, you insufferable bint!”
The Pharaoh snarled, ripping her attention away from the two girls. He stepped towards them with wide strides, but neither girl flinched. Verity was stunned at how composed they were, especially Suzanne.
Stella lifted up a small iron rod in her hand that ticked and clicked, unfolding itself into the symbol Mickey had drawn in the dust. On seeing the ankh, the Pharaoh stopped, transfixed by the ancient symbol. The Key of Life, Verity thought quickly. Of course the Pharaoh would need that if he wanted to return to the mortal plane. In her head, the ticking sequence she heard at the door resumed. Where had Stella picked up such ancient technology?
“The talisman was also believed to stand for strength and health,” Verity heard an unsteady voice whisper into her ear. She flinched to find Williams at her side. He was still terrified, but somehow more in possession of himself.
“All right then, Stella,” Verity said, trying to ignore the high-pitched ticking coming from the ankh, “you have the Silver Pharaoh’s attention.”
“Yes, I do,” she sighed with delight. “Isn’t he magnificent?”
No, he was bloody terrifying. “Stella—”
“Oh, do be quiet, Charity Verity,” Suzanne sneered, “lest we grow tired of you and let King Psusennes here finish what he evidently intended with the two of you.”
Her brow furrowed. “You know about the Silver Pharaoh?”
“Stella told me about quite the scandal at the British Museum,” Suzanne stated proudly, “about how her father has been charged with finding the Silver Pharaoh’s stolen artefacts. With my father’s influence, I assured her we would bring to light this horrible turn of events.”
“What are you blathering on about, girl?” Williams insisted.
“Lord Delancy, the original sponsor of the Silver Pharaoh’s archaeological dig discovered this chamber of achievements after the initial party returned to the British Museum with their spoils. He then arranged for all of this”—and Suzanne motioned to all the tablets around them— “to be brought here to his manor, reconstructed as it had been found.” The little brat was rocking back and forth on her feet, quite pleased with herself. “When Stella’s and my father expose this, it will make them both quite the talk of London. My father might even receive a knighthood.”
“But first,” Stella said, raising the ankh higher, “we need to reach an accord with His Majesty here.”
The girl’s dark eyes narrowed on the Silver Pharaoh who was changing his attention between the ankh and its wielder. He gave a slow nod, and then began stepping backwards, beckoning them with a single hand.
“He wants us to follow,�
� Williams whispered to Verity.
Verity looked at him incredulously. “Are you certain of that, Doctor?”
Suzanne waved her gun in the direction of the pharaoh now leading them back to where Verity had found Williams. “Come along, Charity Verity. Bring your learned friend, too.”
“You don’t need us,” Verity said, pulling Williams closer to her. It would not come as a shock to her if the old man had soiled himself. “I need to get Doctor Williams here to the Infirmary.”
“You’ll never reach it.” Suzanne motioned with her eyes to the gun. “Where did you think I got this? Dead teacher in the corridor. It’s Bedlam out there.”
There were no options remaining, especially with Suzanne holding them as she was. It was impossible to gauge if her upbringing included shooting lessons. She could be a crack shot, or simply preening like a peacock. A well-armed peacock, but armed nonetheless. Verity looked at Williams who was pleading with his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Verity whispered. She watched him glare at Suzanne. “Doctor, even if you take the gun from Suzanne, you heard her. How far will you get?”
His gaze went to the gun, and then to the doorway as the chamber trembled again. “And I thought Odysseus and his men faced a terrible fate with Scylla and Charybdis.”
“Come along, Doctor Williams,” Suzanne urged.
They turned to follow Stella and the pharaoh, leading the way deeper into the network of secret passages.
“Julia mentioned the school was fortified against attacks like this. I wonder if it was also fortified to keep something in, as well,” she said, her eyes fixed on the pharaoh.
“If what your friend says is true,” Doctor Williams began, his voice less frail than before, “Delancy was following a far more diabolical notion than merely hoarding a pharaoh’s treasure.”
“Charity Verity is not a friend,” Suzanna chimed in from behind them.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Did you not see the machines?” he asked. “The paintings Delancy had in the first chamber?”
This would be the second time in only a few minutes she gave an incredulous look to the mad doctor at her side. “You noticed those? In your state?”
“Tosh, my child, if I am overcome with anything, be it fear, sorrow, or anger, a touch of history tends to calm the nerves. While you and your…schoolmate…were enjoying your tête-à-tête, I was noting the hieroglyphics. Quite an astounding find. A shame Delancy concealed it from the rest of the party.”
“So, Suzanne and Stella are correct. This was all some mad hare scheme cooked up by Lord Delancy.”
“And apparently, the Delancy family.” He watched the Silver Pharaoh intently as he continued. “According to the hieroglyphics, this grand machine was His Majesty’s crowning achievement. It would have to be an important creation to find representation in the carvings on the tomb.”
“But why not have his accomplishment on the walls around him? Suzanne and Stella mentioned it had been discovered after you and your party returned to London.”
“That, my girl, is a mystery in itself. Perhaps Psusennes himself knew the dangers of this technology. Perhaps he felt guilty of the destruction he caused from such science. Who knows?”
A sharp scent of cedar suddenly filled her nostrils. One of many ingredients used to mummify a pharaoh. The smell almost choked her, but served as a marker for them all in these gas-lit catacombs.
The tomb was close.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Touch of Silver
“Look,” whispered Suzanne from behind Verity and Doctor Williams. “Beautiful things.”
As it was in the academy’s network of passages, amber lanterns illuminated what was a remarkable near-reproduction of King Psusennes’ burial chamber. There were inconsistencies, such as the inner wall of the academy and the gaslight, but there was no mistaking what this was to represent. Even down to the variety of aromas in the air, the chamber did not smell like anything from England. Lord Delancy had obviously taken great care with recreating this part of the Pharaoh’s tomb.
For once, begrudgingly, Verity agreed with Suzanne. There were indeed beautiful things scattered about the floor. Lapis Lazuli bracelets. Statues of gods carved from alabaster. Gold cups for the Pharaoh to drink from in the afterlife. It all looked normal for an ancient Egyptian tomb. It must have cost him and his family a great deal to steal it.
Her brow furrowed slightly. Something was off. “Doctor Williams,” she began, “do you…”
“The Coptic jars which should contain Psusennes’ organs. We never found them,” he whispered to her. “From what we found in parchments and other records, they never existed.”
“When he and his finest warriors returned that night, the story goes that the Egyptian forces all turned on their leader and his guard. Forty against four hundred thousand...” Thorne had told her. “Of the records we have in the Archives, we know only this: King Psusennes was taken alive, and the Egyptian Empire lost half of their men that night And you ask why their buried him in a silver coffin?”
King Psusennes was taken alive. That would mean…
“The Egyptians set the hieroglyphics of his grand machine away from the other chambers to hide it,” Verity said.
“To hide such advancements and accomplishments?” asked Williams. “From whom?”
Verity’s throat went dry. “From him.”
Williams scrunched his face as he glanced at Verity. “Whatever do you mean, child?”
“Such treasures!” Suzanne gasped, stepping over to one silver chest the size of a large valise. Throwing back its cover, gold coins and gems of all varieties caught the light of the lanterns around them. “Stella, did you ever imagine…?”
“In a moment, my dear Suzanne,” she replied, keeping the ankh between her and the Silver Pharaoh. Just then, the whole tomb wobbled. Stella glanced around her “Your Majesty, whatever you are going to do, you might want to get on with it.”
The girls shared glances with each other for a moment, as the Silver Pharaoh continued towards an open sarcophagus. His sarcophagus. He reached into what had served as his resting place and pulled out from inside it a box no longer in length than Verity’s forearm and no wider than her waist. The entire crate was cast in purest silver. He placed it on the edge of a stone table which stood opposite of his coffin, and then stepped back.
Verity felt something tickle in the back of her brain all of a sudden. A strange pressure started to form in her head.
When Stella took a step towards the box, Psusennes held up a single hand to her. Another rumble rippled through the tomb, but everyone remained stock still as the ancient king motioned with the outstretched arm to Verity.
“Right then, Verity,” Stella said, “open it.”
Verity paused. Why would she need…
The voice suddenly filled her head as it had in the library. Open the box, my child.
Her breath was taken away at hearing the words, and through the sudden pain in her temples, she heard it. The syncopated ticking pattern she heard during the séance. Whatever the phantasm had brought with him that night, the source was in the silver box.
Verity tried to clear her mind as she crossed to the gift of the sarcophagus, but it wasn’t easy. A warmth reminiscent of the desert sun was growing on her skin, and she smelt things too. Wine, honey, and the piny odour of frankincense. All these things were used to make a mummy, but any smell should have long disappeared.
Do as I wish, the whisper came again.
He was a king. He ruled over a great nation. He could have commanded her, but he was asking her to do this simple thing for him. Behind the plea, Verity could just make out the whisper of words ancient and forgotten. She took in a breath, nearly succumbing to vapours as she found herself lost in olfactory echoes of another time, and looked up to Psusennes. His eyes were alight with desire and want.
The longer she stared at the box, the more insistent the ticking grew in her head. Her fing
ertips ran along the cool, smooth surface of the container, and the ticking became more than just a sound in her head. She could feel the rhythm through all of her body. The sensation was an odd combination of magic and mechanics. In opposing sides of the box she found a set of indents which her fingers could easily slide inside. She glanced at the pharaoh’s own hands. His Majesty’s fingers would have never been able to slip inside of these tiny openings so easily. Where her fingertips rested revealed themselves to her as dials. She stared at the engravings of Thoth and Seshat, both deities of wisdom and building, across the lid. From here, the Sound worked through her. Cogs caught. Gears slowly turned. Latches disengaged.
With a sudden hiss, Thoth and Seshat drew apart from one another, revealing nestled in a small cushion a golden cylinder with fantastic ivory and onyx rings lining it from end to end. The ticking resounding in Verity’s head threatened to deafen her. She had to take control lest she lose herself forever in this madness. She closed her eyes and took in one breath, then another. Gradually the Sound responded to her, and the wild rhythm of this ancient science began to subside.
Well done, my child, the Pharaoh said to Verity.
Something pulled her away from the box, and she stumbled back into Doctor Williams. Verity blinked and Stella came into focus. She had cast her aside, and was now lifting the ornate cylinder out of its crate.
“The Sconce of Ra,” Stella whispered aloud holding it up with one hand while the ankh was in the other. “Da’ was right. It’s so beautiful. Such a beautiful start.”
“Beautiful start?” Suzanne’s shrill voice cut through the tension. “The beautiful start to what?”
“The World Engine. The Alpha and the Omega. The Beginning and End of All Things.”
Suzanne took a step away from Verity and Williams and asked again, “Whatever are you on about?”
The Curse of the Silver Pharaoh Page 21