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

by Christine Norris

  “Diedrich, what’s wrong?” Megan asked. “Is your horse okay?”

  The strange look remained. “He’s fine. But he’s hungry, and he says he could use some water.”

  Megan wrinkled her nose. “Huh?”

  “All the horses need a drink, at least that’s what I think he said.” Diedrich took a step back and rubbed his face with both hands. Nearby a dog barked. Diedrich’s head whipped in the direction of the sound. “No way. It’s not possible.”

  “Diedrich?” Rachel waved her hands back and forth to get his attention. “Mind sharing? We can’t go until you tell us which way.”

  “That spell I read, on the cover of the book. It…worked,” Diedrich muttered, as if he were talking to himself. “I can understand what the animals are saying. The horses are thirsty, and that dog was telling someone to get away from his house before he bit them.”

  “You’re mental,” Claire said, her brow furrowed with concern. “The stress has finally broken him.”

  Diedrich shook his head. “I thought so too, but, no. I understand them as clearly as I do you.”

  “I guess that resolves the question of whether or not the book is real,” Rachel said. “Well then, let’s get the horses a drink, and something to eat for us, and move on.”

  They rode north, back toward Thebes. The road was filled with carts, horses and camels. It was early morning when they left Edfu, and unlike at the fishing village, people were out and about with the rising sun, to avoid the heat of the day. The Nile ran swiftly alongside the wide, hard-packed dirt road. Papyrus reeds grew tall along the shore, swaying in the current. Turtles sunned themselves on rocks. It was really quite beautiful—if you ignored the bugs. Megan slapped at a large mosquito that landed on her upper arm. Silently she cursed Sir Gregory Archibald.

  You would think he would have left the insects out of the story. Megan watched a series of boats cast off from the shore. Papyrus sailboats, wooden fishing boats and more barges floated across the wide expanse of water. The barges were loaded down with goods—vegetables and livestock—for trade at the market in Thebes.

  The city itself straddled the river. The sun sparkled on the tips of the many obelisks that stuck up from the skyline on the east bank, in the main part of the city. Along the west bank, it was oddly deserted. The people that had crowded around them on the road earlier had all left the road, boarding boats or taking one of the smaller roads that branched off and led to the small villages that hung on the outskirts of the city.

  “Where did everyone go?” Megan said.

  “We’re coming to the Necropolis,” Diedrich said in a hushed voice. “It’s not a place many people come to.”

  “What’s a Necropolis?” Rachel said.

  “The direct translation would be ‘City of the Dead’,” Claire said. “In other words, a cemetery.”

  Rachel went pale. “I don’t like this. What if we run into some mummy come back to life and gone mad?”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “You watch too many movies. I told you the Book of the Dead doesn’t do that.”

  “Excuse me, we just escaped a giant snake that can kill by looking at you, so who knows what other crazy things are in this book.”

  “Good point.”

  Diedrich stopped them in front of a small temple. A few men and women, dressed plainly and with no jewelry—slaves—walked between the short, blocky structures that marked where people were buried. Many carried covered baskets into and out of the crypts.

  “Come on, this way.” Diedrich pulled his horse to the left, onto a road that led into the heart of the City of the Dead. “The valley is on the other side.”

  “This one.” Diedrich stopped along the valley path, in front of one of the many rectangular openings carved in the base of the hills that rose above them like sleeping giants.

  “They all look the same,” Rachel said, her voice trembling. “How can you be sure this is the right one?”

  “Because of the cartouche above the door.” He pointed to a series of characters inside of a stretched-out oval. “That’s her name. I recognize it from my father’s notes.”

  Rachel’s face was pale. “Do we have to go in right this minute?”

  “We could wait until nightfall, Rache,” Megan said. “You know, when all the spirits return to their tombs. I know the mummies will be glad to see you then.”

  Diedrich shook his head, his face serious. He obviously wasn’t in the mood to joke. “I don’t think we should. Who knows where my father is.”

  Rachel flapped a hand at him. “We left him behind in Byblos. He doesn’t know what the clue on the scarab said, so he doesn’t have any idea where we’re at.” Her horse danced beneath her—it was nervous about being near the tomb too. “Diedrich, can you please ask this nag to stand still?”

  Diedrich dismounted and spoke to the animal in a series of whinnies and neighs. The horse shook its head and stomped the ground, but stopped moving its feet. He patted the mare’s nose.

  “Do you think we don’t stick out?” he said to Rachel. “It would be only too easy for my father to ask if they’ve seen a boy that looks like him and a girl with red hair. He’s nothing if not resourceful. Even if he didn’t find anyone, he knows the story behind the ankh. He’ll be here eventually, if he hasn’t already come and gone while we were occupied with the basilisk.”

  Megan didn’t want to think about the consequences of that statement. If Josef had already gotten the ankh, or the next clue, all four of them were doomed to spend the rest of their lives inside this book.

  “So how do we get in?” Claire said.

  “Come over here.” Diedrich waved the girls to the opening and disappeared inside. Rachel, Claire and Megan dismounted and followed him. A set of stairs, carved out of the rock, led down to a door made of stone. The walls on either side of the stairwell were painted in bright colors with images of Egyptian men, women and animals. Above the door was the cartouche. Beneath that was a pair of blue and gold wings, outstretched to cover the entire width of the doorframe. Between them was an orange and yellow circle.

  “Winged sun disk,” Diedrich said. “So that Ra the Sun God would look favorably on the soul within.” He pushed on the door, grunting to shove the thick door open. Inside was a short narrow passage. The air was cool and dry. The smell of incense wafted on the air. A series of torches kept the gloom of the darkened corridor at bay. They flickered in the breeze from the open door.

  Rachel jumped, frightened by her own shadow as it danced across the wall next to them. “Where do you think they keep the mummy?” she said in a hoarse whisper.

  “In a great glass case along the wall,” Claire said with a straight face. “So you can see it up close, when you tour the tomb on school trips.”

  Rachel gasped. “Really?”

  “No, not really, you dolt. It’s in a sarcophagus in the burial chamber. Inside three coffins, if I’m not mistaken. So stop your bleating.”

  Rachel wiped her brow and sighed with relief. A second later, she screamed.

  “What now?” Megan said.

  Rachel pointed to the floor. Huge, hairy spiders crawled along the corridor. They scuttled away from the intruders and into the shadows.

  “Heart of a lion,” Diedrich said with a shake of his head.

  There was an opening on the right. They stepped into a large square room filled with treasure. Gold statues sat atop carved wooden tables, and a set of ornate gilt chairs stood against the back wall. Another table, long and narrow, was laid out as if for a banquet—plates and goblets, decanters of wine and piles of food vied for space on the table’s top. In the very center of the room was a golden chariot.

  Rachel whistled. “No wonder people were into tomb robbing.” She lifted a necklace from the box on the floor next to her. Emeralds sparkled in the torchlight. “What a haul.”

  Megan gave her a reproachful look. “Put that down. It’s not real anyway, remember?”

  Rachel reluctantly put the necklace back.
She touched a small, beautifully painted statue-like figure. “And what’s this? It’s a pretty little knickknack.”

  “It’s a mummified cat,” Diedrich said nonchalantly.

  Rachel pulled her hand back as if the statue was hot. “A what?”

  “Cats were revered in Ancient Egypt as guardians of the underworld. Important people often had their favorite cat mummified, placed in its own sarcophagus and buried with them.”

  Rachel backed away. “I told you. Mental. Barking mad.”

  “That’s enough, Rache.” Megan said. “The ankh should be here somewhere. We need to look for it.”

  “How do we know it’s here?” Claire said. “We never found out where Sir Gregory discovered it.”

  “What do you mean?” Diedrich said.

  “The Crown of Zeus,” Megan explained. “Sir Gregory wrote in his diary about the place he dug it up in Greece, and recreated the place in the book. We figured out where to look for the Crown because we knew where it was supposed to be.”

  “But you don’t know where the ankh was found,” Diedrich said slowly. He looked at the ceiling. “If it’s really here in the tomb, I think it would be in the burial chamber.” He glanced at Rachel. “Probably inside the sarcophagus. The Queen would have wanted to be buried with it.”

  Megan furrowed her brow. “But the real Nefertari’s tomb was dug up, and the ankh was not there, or else your father wouldn’t have come here looking for it. He’d already know where it was. Wasn’t that the point of his expedition in the first place? To find some prince who had it?”

  Diedrich scratched his chin. “That’s true, but I’ve never been sure it wasn’t just a cover. What if it really was in Nefertari’s tomb and Sir Gregory got to it and dug it up before anyone else? Look, the clue led us here. And the line about leading us to life tells me that we’ll find it here. If I were to look anywhere, the burial chamber is where I would start.”

  He marched out of the room and turned right. Megan grabbed a reluctant Rachel and dragged her along, and Claire followed in their wake.

  “Here’s a question,” Claire said. She crunched a spider beneath her foot. “If the ankh gives eternal life, and the real Nefertari actually possessed it, why did she die?”

  Megan stopped short. “Good point. Like I said, I’ll bet it’s not here. So we’re probably looking for another clue.”

  Diedrich didn’t hear what she said, or else ignored her, and continued down the corridor toward the back of the tomb.

  “Bloody wonderful.” Rachel yanked her wrist free from Megan’s grasp and backed up, right into Claire. “I’ll just wait outside.”

  “That might not be a bad idea,” Megan said. “Go out there and stand watch. In case Josef Hemmlich, or anyone else, shows up.”

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open. She looked from one end of the corridor, toward where Diedrich had gone, to the other, and the door to the outside. “N-never mind. I’ll come with you.”

  Megan smiled sweetly. I knew that would work. “What made you change your mind?”

  “I’d rather face a mummy than a crazy man.”

  Diedrich waited for them in the burial chamber, which was at the very back of the tomb. It was not as large as the treasure room, but the contents were no less valuable. In the center sat a rectangular stone casket. It was plain, without painting or decoration.

  “Where’s the gold-mask thing?” Rachel said. “Like the one I see in all the photos of King Tut?”

  “If she has one, it will be on the mummy itself, in the innermost sarcophagus,” Diedrich said. “Which is also where the ankh—”

  “I told you I don’t think the ankh is in there,” Megan interrupted.

  He gave a deep sigh. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  Megan told him about the conversation the girls had in the hallway.

  “So if she had it, she shouldn’t have died,” Megan said. “Right?”

  Diedrich sat on the edge of the casket and rubbed his temples. Megan could only imagine what he was thinking. “I guess it doesn’t matter.” He looked tired. “Ankh or another clue, either way, we should probably look in the sarcophagus first. We’ll have to find a way to lift the lid. It must weigh a few hundred pounds.”

  “What is all this written on the walls?” Rachel asked. Three of the walls of the chamber were covered with long columns of actual writing, not pictographs.

  “This is hieratic,” Diedrich said. “Not as easy to read as hieroglyphs.” He studied it for several minutes. “The Book of the Dead.”

  “Oh yeah,” Megan said. “I remember your father said they copied it on the walls of all the tombs.”

  In the center of the fourth wall was a large painting. Megan was drawn to the center—a man with a dog’s head wearing a loincloth. The collar necklace he wore was brightly painted in stripes of color. In the center of the necklace, was a real, oval-shaped blue jewel set into the wall.

  “How pretty.” Megan reached up and touched it. A small slot opened beneath her hand.

  “More secret openings,” Claire said. “Can you see inside?”

  Megan peered inside. “Not clearly. It’s too dark. I think there’s something in there, I just can’t tell what.” The hole was very deep. She put her hand into the slot, then her arm, up to the elbow. Her fingers brushed against something that felt like a rolled up piece of paper.

  “Feels like a scroll or something,” Megan said. “I can almost reach it.”

  Megan’s arm was now entirely inside the wall. The paper scooted away from her fingers, to the very back of the slot. She extended her fingers as far as they would go. She felt something else, something hard. It must have had a sharp edge, because it bit into her finger. “Ow. That hurt.”

  “Megan?” Claire said. “You all right?”

  “I think so.” Megan grabbed the paper and pulled her arm out. A small red dot of blood perched on the tip of her index finger. “It doesn’t look bad.” She put it in her mouth and sucked on it.

  “What does that say?” Rachel pointed to the paper in Megan’s other hand.

  Megan unrolled it and wrinkled her brow. “This doesn’t make any sense. Before eternal life, you must pass through the Gates of Death.”

  All of a sudden, her head felt heavy. She let go of the scroll with one hand, and it snapped shut. She leaned on the edge of the slot, and the scroll rolled back to where it came from.

  “Megan, what’s wrong?” Diedrich reached out and grabbed her by the elbow to steady her.

  “I feel dizzy.” The room spun before her eyes. Rachel and Claire’s faces changed from concerned to upset. Megan sat on the cool stone floor. Her face was damp with sweat, and her arms broke out in gooseflesh.

  “You look terrible,” Rachel said. “Come on, we need to get you out of here.”

  Diedrich tried to lift Megan, but she slipped and fell from his grip. Her vision blurred.

  “I can’t see you,” Megan said, her speech slurred. “I’m so cold.” She was suddenly terrified. What’s happening to me!

  Her friends’ voices called out to her, but they sounded very far away. She closed her eyes and slipped into darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen: A Heart’s Measure

  Megan couldn’t breathe. She gasped, reaching for any tiny bit of air. It felt like she was drowning—her lungs burned as she struggled to breathe. After a few rapid, shallow gulps of air, the burning stopped.

  She lay on something warm and comfortable. She rolled her head to the side. Wherever she was, it was almost completely dark. Diedrich, Rachel and Claire were gone.

  Did they just leave me here? Ugh—what happened? My head hurts.

  Megan sat up, and her head swam. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she got a better look at her immediate surroundings. To her right was a large black lake, its surface still and glassy. Small waves lapped at the shore, but they hardly made a sound. She couldn’t see anything else. Warm, light-colored sand stuck to her hands and the backs of her arms and legs. If she hadn’t
been in a strange place, in the dark, the lakeside might have been very pleasant, just like a thousand days she had spent with her mother and father when she was little, when they would leave the city behind and spend all day in the bright sunshine and fresh air, eating a picnic lunch her mother had packed. The memory gave her an unexpected twinge of loss, and bolstered her determination to figure out where she was and get home.

  The last thing she could remember was pulling a piece of paper out of the hole in the wall of the tomb. She looked at her empty hands.

  Her head cleared and she started to panic. How did she get here? Where was here? Where were her friends?

  Did Hemmlich… Oh crud. She struggled to keep her imagination from running away with her and concentrated on her current situation.

  She stood and brushed the sand from her body. She turned in a circle, narrowed her eyes to try and aid her vision, and hoped for inspiration to strike about which way she should go. The lake and the shore were inside a huge cavern. The dark rock walls seemed to have their own, golden inner glow, which was the reason she could see. There was no exit.

  “How do I get out of here?” Her voice bounced around off the walls until it faded away.

  As if in response, the water stirred. Megan backed away, afraid at what might emerge from the depths of the black water. She stood as far from the water’s edge as she could and looked around her for something that could be used as a weapon. There was nothing, not even a piece of driftwood. She kept her eyes on the water.

  A boat cut across the glossy surface in absolute silence. Like the walls, it gave off a soft golden light. She tried to see who was inside, but could only make out a tall shadowy figure standing in the prow.

  It ran ashore, and the hull scraped against the sand with a quiet hiss. Megan was awestruck. The low, curved boat was made of gold and encrusted with amethyst, jade and onyx. The front was shaped like a great bird. A long, slim neck rose above the prow, ending in an elegant, sleek head with a long beak and large, round eyes of ruby. A pair of golden wings stretched their feathers along the boat’s sides.