Heart of the Gods

by Valerie Douglas

  Such a claim was ridiculous. That it might precipitate worldwide outrage, fury on the part of some and possibly worse on the part of others didn’t bother them in the least… In fact they welcomed it, envisioning some kind of holy war.

  The end times.

  None of that bothered Heinrich either. He didn’t believe any of it.

  All he wanted to do was to find the Tomb and claim what was in it. Put it on the world stage with his name on it. Become rich and famous, appear before the media. The whole world would know him as the one who had found the fabled Tomb of the Djinn.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Let them try to pull his academic credentials then.

  Nor was the Church particularly scrupulous about his methods. They had been very clear about that. To them the end most definitely justified the means. With a worldwide apocalypse as their ultimate goal, they were hardly concerned with being scrupulous where unbelievers were concerned. Dreams of the End of Days and the Second Coming were all that mattered to them.

  All that concerned Heinrich was that they were willing to throw large sums of money and resources at him to achieve their goals. That suited him very well…and if they didn’t always know what he used the money for…well…

  He chuckled. A man had his needs and his pleasures.

  Then there were his dreams of late… Dreams undoubtedly triggered by his days at the dig site. Dreams that thrilled him. Dreams of power, of holding the Horn of the Djinn in his own hands, a ram’s horn chased in copper and inlaid with jewels. Dreams of blowing it to summon the Djinn while a voice whispered to him sibilantly…

  ‘What would it be to hold the power of a God in your hands, what if you could summon the mighty Djinn…make them serve you?’

  He could see the Djinn in his dreams… Powerful figures. The ghul that so looked like men, the ifrit shifting from man to hyena, the sila smokelike, amorphous, changeable… And then there were the marid in the form of men...incredibly handsome men… The kind of men Heinrich had always envied and secretly hated. He was tall enough, his time in the gym and tanning beds had buffed, cut and sculpted his body, but he didn’t have the money…yet…to change the soft lines of his face, the weak chin, into something more commanding…or to restore the hairline that was steadily receding despite the shampoos.

  He was eager to return to the dig. There he had power.

  In his pocket, his fingers toyed with the worry stone hidden there, turned and played with it.

  He’d found it at the dig site, a little thing. It might have been an amulet once upon a time. Whatever had once been carved on its face had been blurred to illegibility by time.

  ‘Let us in… We can make you beautiful,’ the voices promised, softly. ‘We can give you such power as you have never dared dream of…’

  In his mind’s eye he could see it, see himself. His own face, only better, firmer, his hair thick as it had been only a few years before, his own form, tall, his tousled hair windswept, standing before an army, a dark and terrible army.

  Chapter Six

  Ky found himself glancing at his watch for the third or fourth time, not wanting to admit he was becoming concerned as he waited for Raissa to arrive. He glanced at the door, almost willed it to open. The boys were unnaturally quiet, too, the tension rising. She hadn’t seemed unhappy when she left the day before and she’d given every indication of returning.

  Maybe she’d changed her mind and decided not to come back.

  He didn’t want to admit he was worried. She’d survived by herself in this country so far, he reminded himself.

  But…

  It wasn’t a culture typically kind to women alone, although Egypt was far better than many Middle Eastern countries, but as with every culture the farther you got from the cities the more entrenched old and sometimes outdated ideas still held. The laws here weren’t always kind, and the penalties could be harsh, very harsh. If she’d run into trouble…

  Would she think to call him? She’d only known him a few days.

  Still…if she was desperate or in trouble? He hoped she would.

  Another uneasy thought went through him. An even worse one, as far as he was concerned.

  What if she’d gotten a better offer? There were other teams around and everyone looked for good people. She’d seemed happy, but…it was a chance. If she had how much did she know? How much had they revealed, how much inadvertently, of what they really searched for?

  Or had that been the real purpose for her visit? To gain their trust.

  If that were true…if she had…

  Then he was a much worse judge of character than he’d thought and he didn’t want to believe he’d misjudged so badly.

  He’d made a few phone calls to verify her bona fides. Her last legitimate employer had given her high praise and had been concerned about how she fared. He’d even admitted he’d wished he could have helped her out of the country.

  A shadow appeared in the doorway and a dark abaya-clad figure darted into the room.

  “My apologies for being late, Professor,” Raissa said, ducking her head, apologetically.

  “Where have you been? Why didn’t you tell me you might be late?” he said, a little more sharply than he intended.

  A little taken aback by the sharpness, her eyes widened in surprise.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to. I thought to bring you these,” she said, withdrawing two thick carefully wrapped packets from beneath the folds of the abaya and setting them on the desk in front of him.

  Ky looked at them then reached out and touched one.

  He looked at her.

  All he could see of her, as she reached up to unfasten the face covering, were her beautiful blue eyes. Then the face covering dropped away and he could see her fine features, the straight nose, the firm perfectly shaped mouth. And those eyes, watching him steadily.

  If the bundles were what he thought they were then he very probably owed her an apology.

  He didn’t even want to think of the risk she’d taken to get them.

  Part of him wanted to shake her for taking such a chance. Another part wanted to hug her.

  She pushed the hood of the abaya back and looked at him, steadily, evenly.

  Neither packet was small.

  Reaching into his pocket, he drew out his pocket knife to cut the twine with which they were bound and opened the first packet.

  On top was a pair of white cotton gloves, proof of the care she’d taken. Beneath were pieces of clay tablets atop pieces of papyri. Each piece of papyri, each piece of clay tablet, had been cautiously packaged, packed and sealed in individual plastic bags.

  Ky touched the first piece of sealed papyrus and let out a breath.

  “You probably shouldn’t ask how I came by them,” Raissa said, carefully, her blue eyes watching him warily, “but carbon dating will confirm the date as being around the time of the other pieces you have, I’m sure.”

  “You went back.”

  She shrugged. “Yes.”

  Amazed, speechless, he could only stare at her. If she’d been caught… The penalty for stealing in this country was quite severe, even if she’d only been taking back that which had been stolen. She’d taken a hell of a risk.

  “The sons didn’t know what they had. I did. I brought everything I could find that I thought might help,” she said, quietly.

  He looked at her. “I owe you an apology.”

  Those blue eyes met his at first solemnly and then with a glint of amusement.

  “For what? You don’t know me and you’ve no reason to trust me.”

  Ky frowned a little. True as it was, the mirror of her words to his own distrust made him uncomfortable. She’d done nothing to deserve it.

  “There are some hieroglyphs on some of those papyri that you really should see,” she said, gently.

  He looked at her. She smiled a little, gave him a small smile. Apology accepted, graciously.

  Move on.

  “Show me,”
he said.

  Letting out a sigh of relief, she ducked her head as she visibly relaxed.

  She bent a little over the desk to pick through the plastic envelopes, searching for the right ones.

  Her scent reached him again, sweet with that hint of spice. She drew her shimmering hair over the other shoulder with one hand to get it out of the way before leaning on the desk. It fell in a rippling stream, framing her face.

  Once again he was conscious of her in ways that he shouldn’t be. He hadn’t wanted to admit her presence was more than welcome or that his fear had been for her first, and then for his research. That was a first.

  Ky caught himself examining her profile, the classic lines of it, the curve of her mouth, the long slender column of her throat, the inviting curve of her shoulder.

  “Here,” Raissa said, “this one…and this…”

  She turned to look at him and caught the look in his eyes.

  For a moment she went still, as their gazes locked and her pretty lips parted on an intake of breath.

  A flush of heat went through him.

  Recalling himself, Ky began to read through her translations of some of the pieces of papyrus and his heart rate picked up for an entirely different reason.

  If she wasn’t mistaken in her translation then the architect was discussing the building of a tomb out in the Gilf Kebir, translated as ‘great barrier’, a massive plateau that was the most distinctive geological feature in this remote part of Egypt, encompassing parts of Libya to the west and the Sudan to the south.

  Certainly the ancient peoples knew of it, petroglyphs were etched into its rocks, the most famous of which had been used in a movie.

  However, most of the Gilf Kebir gave a new meaning to inaccessible and inhospitable.

  In his earliest days of study Ky had written a paper speculating that before the pyramids, the priests and priestesses of early Egypt had used the Gilf Kebir as their final resting place, unlike many who built their tombs along the Nile.

  That paper hadn’t been received well.

  For a moment, Ky stood frozen, staring at the papyrus.

  Here in his hand was confirmation that the tombs he’d proposed might in fact exist. They weren’t just his imagination, an extrapolation, a wild fancy cobbled together from references he’d found here and there and a single statement in an early dynasty Pharaoh’s tomb.

  A tomb they couldn’t even be certain was that of the Pharaoh they thought.

  Narmer.

  The first great Pharaoh.

  “Raissa,” he said, making the effort not to get his hopes up. “Are you certain? Is this how you read this?”

  Looking into the excitement in his eyes, Raissa’s smile spread and she nodded. “I was right, wasn’t I? It’s what you were looking for?”

  On a half laugh, he nodded. “Part of it. It’s part of what I’m looking for.”

  He almost kissed her, the impulse so strong it rocked him.

  Still, with this and this alone, he had the confirmation he’d looked for, if only for himself, and possibly enough that he could get the additional funding needed to expand his search beyond the fort, continue looking further. Perhaps even into the Gilf Kebir itself, to find the tombs.

  It had been Ky himself who, through research and extrapolation, through clues on papyrus, small hints, had originally discovered the remains of the early dynasty fort that even now was being uncovered out in the desert. That gave him a certain cachet, a little pull.

  “Let’s get a copy of this off to Dr. Hawass immediately,” he said, to Ryan, keeping his voice even with an effort. They needed, he needed, to be sure. “We’ll get it dated for certain the next time we’re in Cairo, to be sure. Could you set that up, too, Ryan? Get us time to do the dating.”

  Dr. Tareq Hawass of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo was his friend, mentor and a force to be reckoned with in Egyptology. They were old friends from back in the days when they’d been Archaeology/Egyptology students. Now Tareq was head of the Museum, by virtue of his knowledge of Ancient Egypt, his skill at wheedling the necessary funds from both the government and donors, and his undeniable charm.

  He would let Tareq fight this battle.

  Ky’s spirits lightened. Sometimes it was a matter of who you knew. As much grief as it had caused him to be friends with the head of the Egyptian museum, this time it had paid off.

  The tombs he sought were here in Egypt as far as Ky could tell and the folks at the Egyptian Museum and in the Egyptian government would very likely be more than happy to help him find them.

  That would take time, though, and there was still more to discover, more clues to search for.

  It was a beginning. The next step.

  Contrary to popular opinion and what was depicted in the movies, there was rarely an outright AHA moment in archeology but instead a series of steps. Sometimes they led you down dusty side roads or dead ends, but most led you, step by careful step, where you hoped you would go.

  If you did your job right.

  Chapter Seven

  Situated at the very edge of the desert at it was, as always it was hot, dry, dusty and windy at the dig site. Sand filtered down, over, through and beneath your clothes until by the end of the day it felt as if you were coated in a fine layer of grit. Engrossed in their work no one either noticed or cared. As much as possible, you tried to prepare for it but it was part of the job. Ky had long since gotten used to the discomfort. Some of those around him wore hats against the heat and the chance of sunstroke but he rarely did, preferring the feel of the breeze through his hair. He did wear polarized sunglasses against the brightness but also to fend off the glare from the sand that might make him miss something important.

  He glanced up and across the site to the solitary form standing near the entrance to the dig site where entry through the second wall had once been.

  Many of these old forts had had inner defensive walls as well as outer ones. It had worked well, forcing anyone who managed to get past the first wall to face the defenders behind a second one, while the attackers were forced to fight through a narrow passageway.

  With no one at the dig site except foreigners like themselves and educated Egyptians who wouldn’t object to her clothing―in other words, no one from town―Raissa had foregone the abaya and instead wore a casual pleated linen dress that revealed her lovely legs. Her long golden hair, drawn back in a loose braid, blew in the breeze as she shaded her eyes with a hand to look across the dig site.

  The sunlight illuminated her fine and lovely features, the wind pressed the fabric of her dress against her body to flutter around her legs. In some ways that dress was more practical in this heat than what some wore.

  In a short time she’d become nearly as indispensible and intuitive as Ryan. She was turning into a very capable, very efficient and very pleasant distraction.

  She’d been with them now for more than two weeks and she fit in with team so well, joking with Ryan, gently teasing Komi as they worked, that it seemed she’d always been a part of it. Nor was she averse to teasing Ky as well, slipping in some quiet aside, hiding her smile and her twinkling eyes behind her hair until the shot had been delivered and struck home. Then when they were all laughing he would catch that little glimmering glance from the corner of her eye.

  They’d already had some lively debates over her translations. She had a marvelous mind behind those brilliant eyes, something he definitely appreciated. Nor was she afraid to state her opinion or defend it even against him and she was flexible enough to see another side.

  To his surprise, though, given her background, she’d never been to a dig site. This was her first visit and she seemed to find it fascinating.

  Each find had been labeled as to what had been found where with little color-coded flags stuck in the ground or tied to the twine that marked of the sections of the site. That helped those who worked her get a sense of what had been where, but it also meant that Raissa didn’t need to have someone explain everything t
o her. Pretty as she was, it was unlikely she would have had trouble finding someone to do so, though. She was a beautiful young woman. Ky knew he wasn’t the only one looking at her and he felt a small odd twinge at the thought. Between he and Ryan they’d cautioned her about all the things she couldn’t or shouldn’t do at the dig―as well as the inconveniences, like a lack of facilities. It was rough living, not that anyone complained, whiners didn’t last long on a dig.

  Sandwiched between them on the bench seat of the ancient jeep as they’d ridden out to the dig site, Raissa had simply looked from one to the other of them as they’d explained, shaking her head in amusement.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve lived rough,” she’d said, clearly entertained by their concern. “Have you looked around at all?”

  There were parts of the town where goats, dogs and cats relieved themselves in the streets and some that still didn’t have indoor plumbing, much less electricity.

  That air of amusement around her was beguiling.

  It did raise the question of where she was living but she always arrived clean, so she couldn’t be living too rough.

  Ky remembered far too well the brush of her smooth warm thigh against his own.

  Familiarity had not diminished the attraction one bit, every time he saw her his body tightened automatically in response.

  She was usually sprawled across the chair by the window of the suite, her beautiful hair streaming over the arm or the back of the chair, the light turning it into a shimmering golden fall, her shapely legs over the arm, her pretty feet bare―in a place where bare feet weren’t always wise. She seemed to have no fear of scorpions or sand spurs.

  Working patiently in the remains of one of the rooms along the north wall, Ky eyed some of the others working here. There were people here he didn’t quite trust.

  This section was not where he’d found some of those intriguing fragments.