SECRET OF THE EGYPTIAN CURSE: Kids of Ancient Mythology

by Scott Peters

  "Stop. I think you too need a study in the sacred texts!" Then to Akil, "You have your answer. You’ll wait until Ra escapes the mouth of Nut. If the boy hasn’t been found, the apprenticeship is yours."

  Akil’s mouth curled into a wide grin. "Then it’s mine already. You’ll never find him before dawn." He loped out the door, laughing. Something about his walk had an eerie familiarity to it; then she realized why it seemed so familiar: the boy from her dream, the last one. Akil was the jackal of death.

  Jabari entered. "Denger?"

  "Here." Jabari’s brother stepped forward.

  Most of the craftsmen had turned away by now to busy themselves with other things. Neferet, curious however, watched the two siblings in their formal uniforms.

  "This is your mission. I want you to lead," Jabari said.

  There was something almost awkward in the way Denger said, "You do?"

  "You found the scroll, little brother." Jabari shot him a grin. "It’s your triumph, not mine."

  Denger stuttered out something that sounded like embarrassed surprise. He quickly recovered though and said, "I’ll break the men into groups. Twos or threes, so we can cover more ground. Don’t worry, I’ll find Ramses—the boy." He motioned to Neferet. "Come outside so you can give a description of your friend."

  A moment later, she stood before the gathered sentries. As loud as she could, she recounted Ramses’ height, his cropped hair, and his dark, almond shaped eyes.

  "That’s half the boys in Egypt," a man said.

  "We need more than that," said another.

  She glanced sideways at her father. In a breathless voice, she said, "He wears a turquoise amulet of Maat."

  "A what?" someone called out.

  Her father regarded her a moment, as if just realizing she hadn’t been wearing the treasure for weeks. He let out his breath, and then addressed the sentries. "An amulet. Of Maat. And not a trinket from some market stall—a precious one, carved of turquoise. If he has it, that’s your proof."

  At the second tent, Akil stood framed in the doorway. He made a strange sign in the air, and then a guard yanked the flap shut. She closed her mouth and swallowed, and fear slid down her spine.

  The sentries slid off into the night. She wanted to run after them. She wanted to help. Her stomach tensed and her head swam.

  Dawn would be here all too soon.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  In the darkness, Ramses curled into a crevice in the cliff. Hidden from the horrors below, he’d wait until dawn. Then he’d figure out what to do. He needed to numb his mind, force himself to sleep, to forget everything.

  Why had he run? He could’ve let Denger take him inside. It’s what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? He wrenched himself up, his heart dull and heavy in his chest.

  The world was black as kohl.

  Cursing, he wiped his gritty forehead. It was over. It was time to stop thinking about it. It was time to move on. Time to get away from this place, to erase it from his memory. Time to never draw again.

  Overhead, stars sparkled like candles floating on the river. It had to be around four in the morning. He rose and looked down from the Peak of the West, out across the desert to the fertile fields, now dark and hazy in the distance. From here the scene looked peaceful. The Nile winked, jet black and flashing.

  Somewhere down there lay his farm.

  He pictured it with its worn paving stone courtyard, the solid, whitewashed walls of the house, the smells of wheat and hay, of baking bread; his home, with Sobek and Hebony, and the steady, predictable rhythm of working the fields; his world, with his best friend Sepi who grinned and joked and heckled better than anyone. All of it seemed so precious. Like treasures he didn’t realize he had until they were gone.

  He tore his eyes away. How did he ever think he could be a craftsman in the Place of Truth? He deserved this punishment.

  Rubbing his face, he cleared away his exhaustion.

  The valley would not welcome him again. His only choice was to disappear, to go where Aunt Zalika would never find him. He’d head for the river, find work on a boat. Now, before the fishermen pulled up their anchors.

  By dawn, he’d be gone forever.

  Standing, he shook the stones from his sandals. The cool night air ripped away his sweat, making him shudder. The faster he got moving, the warmer he’d be.

  He picked a route down the steep mountain, over boulders and across shale landslides. At its base, he didn’t bother to find the raised causeway; he simply trekked across the rocky desert, headed for the lean date palms in the distance. The grassy scrub that marked the border of the farmlands felt cool and damp.

  An irrigation ditch ran at right angles to the field. He crouched and drank to kill his hunger. But the water tasted gritty and he stopped after a few gulps. Cursing, he wiped his mouth and kept going. Dawn would be here all too soon. He needed to find those fishing boats.

  Finally, a familiar swampy smell filled the air, along with a gentle lapping sound. Pushing through a thick stand of rushes, the Nile came into view. He looked right and left, and his heart leapt. For the first time in ages, luck was with him.

  A boat was moored just a few hundred paces out, and a lamp moved on deck. Squinting, he made out the shape of a man, walking to the stern. The fisherman bent over the ropes. He was preparing to cast off.

  Ramses shouted, "Hey! Wait!"

  The fisherman raised the lamp and his grizzled head peered over the side.

  "Do you need a boat-hand?" Ramses called.

  "Depends who’s asking."

  "My name’s Ramses, and I’m a hard worker." He started wading out.

  The captain scowled at him. "You don’t look like a fisherman."

  "Maybe not, but I work hard."

  This got a grunt. "We’ll see about that. I’m headed north, leaving right now."

  "So you’ll hire me?"

  "Better not be a sea-sick sort."

  "I’m not," Ramses said.

  "Humph. We’ll see."

  Ramses waded the last few yards and climbed on board, dripping.

  Instantly, the smell of rotting fish hit him. He struggled not to gag. His sandals slipped on fish guts smeared across the deck. He grabbed the railing to steady himself, and when he pulled his hand away, scales and slime came with it. Anyone who bought fish from this man was risking an early death. The old captain watched him, his eyes narrowing, and started to laugh.

  "What, you got a complaint already ‘bout my boat?"

  "No."

  The captain glanced down at Ramses’ unsteady feet, and swung his lamp toward them. "Why don’t you give me those sandals, boy? I don’t need no fancy boat-hand, dressing like he’s some kinda prince or something."

  The idea of going barefoot made him shudder. But he needed this job. "They won’t fit you," he blurted.

  "Humph." The sailor wiggled his gnarled feet; they looked like giant fish that had sprouted big scraggly toes. "Maybe you’re right."

  Ramses tried to hide his relief. Then the fisherman bent and wrenched the sandals off, sending Ramses slipping backward. He caught himself just before he sprawled flat-out onto the stinking deck.

  "I’ll barter them up river later. Now grab those ropes. We got a long way to go."

  He nodded.

  "That’s a yes sir," the fisherman said.

  "Yes, sir." Barefoot, he slid across the deck, his throat choking against the overpowering stench. He’d get used to it. He’d have to.

  Neferet’s amulet bumped against his chest. His fingers went to it. It wouldn’t be long before the fisherman discovered the only thing he had left of her. No doubt the man would search him for valuables as soon as he fell asleep. At the thought of Neferet’s grin, a bleak emptiness closed in on him. He wondered if she even remembered him. One thing was certain; he’d lost the hope of seeing her again.

  Maybe it was for the best. He couldn’t have faced living in her village as a traitor, he knew that now. It struck him that his palm had s
topped burning. Glancing down, he saw smooth skin. It was as if the amulet’s mark had never existed.

  The gods were finally happy. So this is what they had planned for him all along.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  "Get a move on, boy," the fisherman barked.

  Cursing, Ramses grabbed the mucky rope that held the anchor and started hauling it in. It rose, dripping, and clanged onto the deck. They were moving. Leaving. And he was glad to be gone.

  "Halt!" a man called from the bank. "You there, halt that boat!"

  Out of the darkness came the form of a helmeted man, wading into the water. A sentry. Ramses gulped. This had nothing to do with him. Denger wouldn’t have organized sentries to find him, not now that it was all over.

  Still, Ramses crouched lower, thankful to feel the boat moving into the current.

  "I said, halt!" The guard plunged through the water after them.

  "Didn’t you hear the man?" the fisherman shouted. He threw himself at Ramses and sent the anchor splashing into the river. The boat jerked to a stop.

  "Good!" the sentry shouted. "Now what’s your boat-hand’s name, fisherman?"

  "Dunno! I just picked ‘im up." He shot Ramses a furious look.

  "We’re looking for a boy of his description."

  "I’ve done nothing wrong!" the fisherman whined. Then he grabbed Ramses by the collar. "What kind o’ scoundrel are you, bring the law down on my boat?"

  "I’m innocent. You have to help me."

  "Why should I?" the fisherman growled.

  Ramses realized the man was waiting for some kind of offer. "I have something valuable. Very valuable. You can have it. Please!"

  "Something wrong?" the helmeted sentry called. He’d waded almost to the boat. "Send him down!"

  "I’m just a slave," Ramses called to him. "I have work to do!"

  "So do I," the sentry said. He turned, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Denger, I got one, down by the river."

  Denger?

  "Over here," the sentry called.

  In horror, Ramses watched his enemy make his way onto the bank. It was crazy—why had Denger tracked him down? The exam was over; it was too late! Then, with sudden clarity, he understood. Ramses was a risk. He knew too much. Denger had come to kill him.

  "Fisherman, hold your lamp to the boy’s face," Denger said.

  Ramses flinched as the flame lit him for the world to see.

  Denger laughed. "Might be him. Send him down."

  Might be? What game was Denger playing?

  The fisherman gave him a shove. "You heard ‘im. I don’t want no trouble. Off my boat!"

  "He’s going to kill me."

  The fisherman grabbed him by the neck and flung him into the water. The sentry caught hold of his tunic. Laughing, he pulled him to shore where Denger stood waiting.

  Denger looked into Ramses’ face. "Might be the one. I can’t be sure."

  "What about the amulet?" the sentry said.

  "Look at the filthy beggar, if he had it, he sold it long ago. Am I right, boy?"

  Ramses said nothing.

  The sentry looked doubtful.

  "The girl can verify it." Denger took Ramses’ arm. To the sentry, he said, "Check the other boats. We’re almost out of time. I’ll meet you back at the village."

  "Understood," the sentry said.

  "And good work." Denger hauled Ramses past the border of thick rushes.

  They emerged in a dark field. Up ahead, like the back of a giant snake, a raised earth road curved toward the mountains. He recognized the causeway to the Place of Truth. Unknowingly, he’d walked right back to where he’d started the day before.

  "I haven’t told anyone anything," Ramses said. "I swear it!"

  "Shut up." Grabbing him in a headlock, Denger pulled out a rope. Ramses kicked hard and slammed him in the gut. Muscled as a bull, the man just laughed. "Nice try."

  He crushed him to the ground, snaked the rope around Ramses’ neck and wrists, and bound his hands together. Then he lashed the other end to his own thick forearm and set off down the causeway, pulling Ramses like an obstinate donkey.

  The rope jerked him forward, threatening to pull his arms from his sockets. Denger kept glancing at the horizon, where a brightening glow divided the earth and sky. In less than an hour, Ra would escape the mouth of Nut to peek over the earth.

  If only they’d come a moment later, Ramses would’ve been gone.

  "Let me go," he gasped, "I won’t tell anyone."

  "Shut up and move." Denger growled. "I thought you wanted to be a craftsman."

  "A what?"

  Denger glanced back. "The plan’s still on. They saw your drawing."

  "I don’t believe you. Please, just let me go, don’t kill me. I’d never tell anyone! I don’t care about what you tried to do. I just want to leave, get on a boat, go away!"

  "Yeah—not after I showed the Chief Scribe your drawing. Everyone’s out looking for you."

  "That doesn’t make sense! The exam’s over."

  "If I wanted you dead, I’d have slit your throat already. You think I’d bother dragging you around? What do I look like, an idiot?"

  "People are looking for me?" Something in Denger’s eyes told Ramses he’d spoken the truth. They wanted him, really wanted him? A rush of excitement surged into him. Faster and faster until it threatened to propel him skyward.

  "That’s right boy, smile. You should’ve seen the men when they saw what you drew. We got ‘em right where we want ‘em." Denger said.

  At this, Ramses’ feet dragged in the dirt, his mind sobered. What did it matter if they wanted him? They didn’t know about Denger’s plan. And he couldn’t be a part of it. Not anymore.

  "I’m not doing it."

  "Oho, yes you are."

  "I’ll tell him you found the wrong boy. The Chief Scribe doesn’t know me."

  "Maybe not." Denger leered at him. "But his daughter does." Denger tore open the neck of Ramses tunic. Grinning, he clamped his thick fingers around the amulet of Maat. "And how do you explain this?"

  "I found it," Ramses lied, trying to pry Denger’s fingers away.

  "Nice piece." After snapping the amulet free, he shoved Maat headfirst into the folds of his tunic. "Don’t try me," he growled, pulling out his sword. The curved blade glinted evil in the dusky light.

  "You can’t threaten me with death."

  He pressed it to Ramses’ throat, then slid the blade lightly across the skin. "It’s not you I’m threatening." Ramses felt a warm trickle ooze down his neck.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Just do what I say."

  "Or what?"

  "Or I’ll kill your little girlfriend." Denger sneered, triumphant. "Now run."

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The desert air rang with the running crunch of their footfalls. Denger had tied the ropes well, and Ramses’ wrists bled from trying to pull himself free. He watched Denger’s sword jangle at his belt; twice he’d almost come close enough to grab it.

  Lungs burning, he darted for a third try. It was inches away. Struggling against his bindings, he spread his fingers wide and reached for the hilt.

  He had it! Careful now, just pry it out of the scabbard—

  A pothole made him stumble and he lost his hold. Denger didn’t notice. The sentry’s leather sandals beat out a steady rhythm. His whole attention seemed focused on getting to the gates as fast as possible.

  On either side, hills sloped up and away, disappearing into the pre-dawn gloom. Ramses knew this spot: it was the ravine to the Place of Truth. Denger had to be stopped, now, before it was too late.

  Desperate, he bent forward, the blade inches away.

  Come on, just a little more—

  Denger skidded to a halt.

  Ramses slammed into his back with an oof.

  "Shut up, boy, someone’s coming."

  Ahead, a small figure hurtled down valley toward them. Her hair streamed over her shoulders, dark
against the ghost-white fabric of her dress. It felt like a waking nightmare: if Denger got hold of Neferet, who knew what the sentry would do?

  "Go back!" Ramses shouted.

  Denger grabbed him in a chokehold. "Shut up or she’s dead."

  "Who’s there?" Neferet’s voice was high-pitched, full of what sounded like excited hope. She kept coming, closing the distance. Gazelle-like, she flew easily across the hard, rocky ground.

  "Stop!" Ramses shouted, but his words were muffled by Denger’s hand.

  "Another word and I’ll break her neck. Understood?"

  Ramses nodded. Denger took his hand from Ramses mouth, but kept a tight hold on the rope. Close enough to see her clearly now, she looked how he imagined a daughter of Pharaoh might look. Regal. A simple gold clasp shone in her hair, and her sheath-like dress gleamed the purest white.

  "Ramses, it is you! Denger found you!" she cried.

  He glared at the ground.

  "But what are the ropes for?" She laughed. "Denger, Ramses isn’t a goat being taken to slaughter. Untie him, right now!"

  "I will, Miss, when I hand him over to your father. Run along, we’ll follow you."

  "No. This is ridiculous. Untie him!"

  "Miss, I’d like to, but he’s trying to get away."

  "Get away?" she said.

  Ramses refused to look up. If she’d just listen to Denger and go home!

  "It’s not true, Ramses, is it? You really want to get away?"

  Denger’s fingers bit into Ramses’ neck. "He’s suffering from nerves. That’s all."

  "Go home, stupid girl," Ramses growled, forcing his voice to sound thick with loathing. He didn’t care if she hated him, if it was the only way to make her leave. "I don’t need some stuck-up idiot in a fancy dress sticking her nose in my business." He steeled his face into a cold mask and met her gaze.

  The hurt in her eyes made him sick.

  "Hear that?" Denger said, snorting with laughter. "Go home!"

  "I don’t care if he thinks I’m stupid. Untie him!"

  "Let me do my job," the sentry said.

  Neferet paused, but looked ready to explode. "Do your job? You think this is your job? You think this is what Jabari wanted you to—" Her voice broke off as her eyes went to Denger’s hip pocket. "Is that my amulet? Why do you have my amulet?"