The Ankh of Isis: The Library of Athena, Book 2

by Christine Norris

  Diedrich brushed the sand from his legs. “Excuse me? Ancient Egypt?”

  Megan nodded. “Well, Sir Gregory’s version of it, anyway. We’re inside a story he’s written.”

  “You people really are nuts. Where is my father?” Diedrich looked down at himself and swore loudly. “And what am I wearing?”

  Megan giggled. Diedrich was bare-chested, with only a short white cloth draped around his waist. A wide collar of lapis lazuli, amethyst and gold hung around his neck, and a piece of wide-striped cloth, like a veil, sat on his head, secured with a gold circlet.

  “Nice headdress,” Megan said. Her face twisted as she tried to hold in a laugh. Her own pajamas were gone, and both she and Claire wore simple, form-fitting, ankle-length white linen dresses with wide shoulder straps. Strands of lapis and amethyst beads hung around their necks, and several gold bangle bracelets on each wrist. All three had brown thong sandals on their feet.

  “Is this a skirt?” Diedrich said. “Why am I wearing a skirt?”

  “Because, in the book, we wear the clothes of the civilization we are in,” Claire said with a shrug, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

  “In the book?”

  Megan rolled her eyes. Is he really this thick? “We told you that’s where we were going. It’s not my fault you didn’t believe us.”

  “But—”

  “Look, we don’t have time right now. We have to find your father and Rachel. And some shade.”

  A dark square of wood sat on the ground near where they had landed. Megan picked up the Book of the Dead and shook the sand from it.

  “It made it,” Claire said. “I’m amazed. I really didn’t think it would. You’re brilliant.” She took the book and looked over the cover. “Megan, you do realize you can’t read this, right?”

  “I know, it’s in hieroglyphics or something,” Megan said. “But there should be a translation in the back. I saw it in there before.”

  Claire turned the book over and opened the back cover. “Nope, sorry.” She showed it to Megan—the tag Sir Gregory had taped inside the cover and translation were gone.

  Diedrich gave her a sidelong glance. “You really can’t read hieroglyphics?”

  Megan groaned. “Uh, no, duh. This is great. Now what are we going to do?”

  Diedrich took the book from Claire and looked through it. He put his arm around Megan’s shoulders and leaned close to her ear.

  “You don’t think, being the son of an Egyptologist, that I never learned anything?”

  Megan raised her eyebrows in an unspoken reply. Diedrich nodded.

  She threw her arms around his neck, any suspicion she had about him forgotten. “I am so glad we brought you along.”

  “Yes, well, I’m glad I can be of some use. Look, wherever we really are, and however you managed to get us here, can we get going, perhaps? It’s getting hot.”

  Megan released her grip on Diedrich and looked over the landscape. “There’s nobody here to tell us which way to go. Remember little Homer?”

  Claire nodded.

  “Little Homer?” Diedrich asked.

  “When we were inside the last book, there was a little boy named Homer who was tending sheep. He told us about a path that led to the first clue,” Megan said.

  “Clue?” Diedrich said.

  “But he wasn’t right where we came into the story, either,” Claire said. “We had to walk across a field to the village, remember?”

  Megan spun, arms outstretched. “With all this sand, everything looks the same. I don’t know which way to go.” At the moment she was more worried about Rachel than the Ankh. She didn’t really care if they found the guide. They could worry about that later.

  “We go that way.” Diedrich indicated the grove of palms.

  “How could you possibly know that?” Megan said.

  He pointed at the ground. Two sets of footprints marched away across the sand and toward the grove.

  “Ah. Okay then,” Megan said. “Come on, maybe we can catch them.” She took off, Claire and Diedrich on her heels.

  She didn’t run for long before the heat made her slow down. The air wavered in front of her and made shimmering pools in the distance. Her eyes stung as sweat poured down her face into them. She tried to wipe it out, but the sweat on her hands only made it worse.

  “How much farther?” Claire panted. Her face was the color of a ripe tomato.

  “I can’t tell,” Megan said. “Every time I think we’re almost there, it seems to get farther away.”

  “Please, don’t let it all be a mirage,” Claire begged.

  “I need a drink,” Diedrich said; his throat made a click when he swallowed. “I hope there’s water.”

  Finally they came to the oasis. Megan reached out, touched the trunk of the nearest tree and patted its rough skin.

  “It’s real.” She leaned against it with a grateful sigh.

  Claire stumbled toward her. “Ah, shade.” She found a big patch of it and flopped down, cross-legged, in the long, coarse grass that grew beneath the trees.

  The oasis was beautiful. The uneven, rough, almost yellow grass that ringed the edge changed to a carpet of lush emerald as it grew toward the center and—the most beautiful sight Megan could imagine at the moment—a pond. A deep pool of clear, sparkling water reflected the sun, winking little diamonds at the three of them. There was the breeze—it was warm, but welcome. Three camels lay in the shade. They chewed on the grass, looks of disinterest on their long faces. Other than the animals and the three teenagers, no one else was there.

  Diedrich staggered to the water’s edge. He peeled off the headdress and let it fall to the grass. He dropped to his knees and stuck his entire head in the pond.

  He threw his head back and sent a wave of water behind him. “Ah—wonderful.” The water ran down his back in little streams and pooled around his feet. He wiped his face with his hands and blinked the water from his eyes.

  Megan let go of the tree and walked on wobbly, heat-exhausted legs to kneel next to him. Instead of dunking her whole head, she cupped her hands, scooped up some water and splashed it over her face.

  “It’s fabulous.” She sucked the droplets off her upper lip. “The best water I’ve ever tasted.”

  She dipped her hands again. This time she brought the water to her mouth and drank the whole of it in one gulp.

  “Refreshing, too.” She burped. “Excuse me.”

  Diedrich lay back on the bank of the pond. “Can you please tell me what’s going on now?”

  Megan sighed. “Okay. I guess we can take a short break. We probably need it after being in the heat. Sir Gregory Archibald, the man who built my house, was not only an archaeologist. He was also a wizard.”

  “You’re kidding.” Diedrich let out a hearty laugh. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you’ve met the tooth fairy, and the Easter Bunny lives in your garden.”

  Megan gave him a reproachful look. “Let me finish. He was a self-taught wizard.”

  Diedrich still didn’t look convinced. “You don’t say.”

  “He wasn’t always that way—he didn’t start studying magic until later in his life.”

  “What prompted the sudden interest in magic, I wonder?”

  Megan shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. He never mentions it in his diary.”

  “His diary?”

  “It’s another long story. But I’m pretty sure it was not long after someone tried to steal the Crown of Zeus. I’ll have to ask Bailey.”

  “Bailey? Your butler? He knows about all…this? And what’s a Crown of Zeus?”

  “Yeah, Bailey knows. The Crown of Zeus is another artifact. Sir Gregory went digging around all over the world, and he collected a bunch of things that many people believe don’t exist.”

  “Like the Ankh of Isis,” Diedrich said. He sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees.

  “Exactly.”

  “I never believed my father when he said
it was real.” He picked up a small stone and skipped it across the water. “If I had, maybe all this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” Megan said. “Your father…well, he seemed a little off balance when I last saw him.”

  Obsessed was what she really wanted to say, but she thought that would be too harsh. Diedrich had enough to worry about. She had only met him two days ago, and she already cared about him.

  “All he wanted was someone to believe him. I was too busy fighting with about everything else to listen.” Diedrich took a deep breath. “So, you were telling me about Sir Gregory and his magic library.”

  Avoid much? “Yes. He wanted to hide these things, these artifacts, to keep them safe from people who might want to try and use them. Most of them are pretty dangerous. So he hunted down an old spell book somewhere.”

  “From the looks of that library back there, I’d say he hunted down every magic book in the world.”

  “In this book,” Megan went on, giving Diedrich a small glare. “Was the spell that would allow him to write a book and actually place the artifacts inside the story. It’s called The Art.”

  “Which is where we are now, right? Inside the story. That’s…incredible.”

  Megan nodded. “Whenever someone opens one of the special books, they get sucked inside. In order to get out, they have to recover the item that the book is hiding.”

  Diedrich lay back on the grass “Of course it won’t be easy. It couldn’t be easy, or else what would be the point?”

  “No, it definitely won’t be easy.” Claire sat next to Megan and sank her hands into the water. “Sir Gregory has left us a series of clues, and we have to follow and interpret them correctly to get to the next one. Assuming we survive, at the end of the story we’ll be able to find the ankh and go home.”

  “That is, unless, your father gets to it first.” Megan shuddered. “I don’t want to think about what will happen to us if that happens. First of all, he doesn’t know we’re here. And no offense, Diedrich, but I don’t think he’d wait for us to catch up to him if he did know.”

  “My father isn’t a monster,” Diedrich said. “He may be driven, but he wouldn’t hurt people on purpose.”

  Yeah, tell that to the gun he had pointed at us. Megan stood—she didn’t want to waste time by starting an argument. “Let’s get started.”

  “Where?” Diedrich asked.

  Megan looked around. She was a little worried they were alone. “I don’t know why there isn’t a guide. Unless he only hangs around when the first people enter the book. Or maybe it’s just so obvious where you’re supposed to go when you get here Sir Gregory didn’t write one in.”

  She pointed across the pond. “There.” Beneath the tallest palm tree stood a wooden podium. Atop the single, square leg, a carved owl served as the top of the lectern. The bird’s body was in the center; its outstretched wings formed the wide, flat plinth. A book sat on top.

  “Ah, here we are,” Megan said. The book had a familiar red gold cloth cover, with an ankh stamped in gold on the front. There was no title. She opened to the first page.

  “Greetings, traveler,” she read. “And welcome to the Ancient Egypt of My Mind. The book you opened in the Library has transported you inside its pages. You are now in pursuit of the Ankh of Isis…”

  Claire bobbed her head back and forth, flapping her hand open and shut, like a duck’s beak. “Blah, blah, blah. Can we skip to the first clue?”

  “Okay, fine. The first clue in the crown book was carved into a rock. Look around for something with writing on it,” Megan said. “It should be right near the book.”

  The three of them searched the oasis. They turned over every rock, looked up every tree, even in the packs the camels wore across their backs.

  “Nothing,” Megan said. “What if the clue disappeared after Diedrich’s dad read it? Or if it was written on something small, something he could carry, and he took it with him? We won’t know where to start.”

  Claire looked pensive. “The first clue last time didn’t disappear. At least, I don’t think it did. It could have, after we left the hilltop. Or maybe Mr. Hemmlich just destroyed it, so no one could follow him.”

  Diedrich stood in front of the podium and turned to the next page of the greeting book. “Uh, girls? Did you ever think it was right here?”

  “What do you mean?” Megan said. She ran around and leaned in front of Diedrich. She scanned the page he was looking at.

  “This is all Ancient Egyptian,” she said. “In the other book these pages were all Greek. Don’t know what it says, or why. I can’t read it. The clue should be here somewhere in English.”

  “From brothers who were bitter rivals, the God’s box will ensure your survival.” Diedrich ran a finger down the columns of tiny pictures as he read. He drummed the fingers of his other hand on the book. “Set and Osiris.”

  Megan stared at him, mouth agape. “You really can read that? That’s what it really says?”

  “I told you I could.”

  “I wonder why the clue is in the book too,” Claire said.

  “Right now, I don’t care,” Megan replied. She turned her attention to Diedrich. “What do you mean, ‘Set and Osiris’?”

  “Set and Osiris were brothers. The sons of Geb and Nut, who, according to Egyptian legend, created the world. Set was the God of Chaos and Evil, and jealous of his brother, because Osiris was more important.”

  “And Osiris is…?” Megan asked.

  “The God of the Dead.”

  Megan wrinkled her nose. “Creepy.”

  “He didn’t start out that way. Originally, he was the prince of all the gods, and heir to his father’s throne. Set wanted to kill his brother and take his place as his father’s favorite, so he set a trap. He built a box, made from cedar, inlaid with ebony, gold and silver. No one had ever seen or built its equal, it was so beautiful. And it was made to Osiris’ exact measurements.

  “Set held a great feast. The only guests were his seventy-two conspirators and his brother. At the end of the meal, Set brought out the box and said that whoever fit inside the box could have it. Of course no one fit except Osiris. When he lay in it, Set and his friends slammed on the lid and nailed it shut.”

  “That was stupid,” Megan said. “You would think a god would see something like that coming.”

  “Set threw the box into the Nile, and it floated away, into the ocean. It came up onto the shore of Byblos, where it grew into the trunk of a cypress tree. The King of Byblos admired the tree, and had it cut down and turned into one of the pillars that held up his palace.”

  “So the God’s box must mean we have to find the coffin of Osiris?” Claire said.

  “And finding the coffin means finding either the tree or the pillar?” Megan said.

  Diedrich nodded. “Just like Isis did. Finding the tree would be tough—the legend doesn’t say where along the coast the tree grew. If I had to choose, I’d look for the pillar first. I know where the palace is supposed to be.”

  “And where is this Byblos place?” Megan said.

  It was Claire that answered. “In the Mediterranean, in what is now called Lebanon. But here I suppose it’s still Phoenicia.”

  Megan clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You’re such a history geek.” She slung her arm around Claire’s neck. “And I’m so glad.”

  “How do we get there?” Diedrich said. “I don’t know where we are, but Byblos is probably a long walk.”

  “That must be why they’re here.” Megan pointed to the camels, which still lay in the shade, contentedly chewing.

  “Have you ever ridden a camel?” Claire asked. “I haven’t.”

  “Oh, come on,” Megan said. “It can’t be much different than riding a horse.” She glanced at the animals. “Except for the hump.”

  Claire gave the camels a nervous look. “Yeah, and we all know what a brilliant horseman I am.”

  They raced across the desert. Me
gan clutched the reins of her camel for dear life. The camel’s gait wasn’t anywhere as smooth as a horse’s, and there wasn’t anywhere for her to hold on with her legs. She bounced in the cloth saddle strapped to the top of the camel’s hump and prayed she wouldn’t fly off. The Book of the Dead was safely tucked away in the tooled leather bag attached to the back of the saddle.

  Like a neon sign showing them which way to go, a single track of camel prints tracked through the sand, telling them where Josef Hemmlich and Rachel had gone. Megan wondered if they were riding on the same camel or on two camels traveling single file. If it were the latter, how was Mr. Hemmlich able to keep Rachel with him? Megan was pretty sure he no longer had the gun, so what had he used to subdue her? Perhaps his gun turned into something else when they came into the book, like a sword or some other type of weapon.

  I hope she’s all right. It should have been me that got sucked in with Hemmlich, not her.

  Megan tried to squash her guilt—it wouldn’t do anyone any good to sulk—and urged her camel on.

  Diedrich pulled his mount to a stop. Megan and Claire rode up next to him.

  “What’s up?” Megan asked.

  Diedrich looked at the sky. “Do you think Sir Gregory created this Egypt to be exactly like the real one?”

  Megan nodded. “Almost positive.”

  “Then we’re heading in the right direction.”

  “How do you know which way we should be going?” Megan said. “I thought we were just following your father’s tracks. That’s the only direction I care about right now. We have to get to Rachel.”

  “Assuming my father read that clue and solved it, which he should have, he would know the right way. I want to double-check.” Diedrich looked at the horizon, then the ground, and then the sky again. “We’re in the desert to the west of the Fertile Crescent.” He pointed to the mountains off to the right. “On the other side is the valley of the Nile. The sun is to the left of us, and it’s descending. So we’re all headed north, straight toward Lower Egypt.”

  “Lower Egypt?” Megan asked. “Wouldn’t that be south?”