by J. F. Penn
Unless of course, it really was the End Times.
She smiled to herself. As in all her ARKANE missions, Morgan battled her own scientific skepticism when it came to matters of faith. Despite what she had seen, she still clung to rational argument. Because if she became a true believer in the nature of evil and a supernatural battle was to come, then she might crumble. After all, what could one woman do against forces of that magnitude?
Jake snorted in his sleep. She looked sideways at him and Martin, both snoozing next to her on the plane. Well, one woman and two sidekicks.
If their foes were human and temporal, then they had a chance. She had to believe that. Those who wanted to use the seals to usher in some kind of apocalypse could still be stopped.
The plane touched down and they emerged into the bright sun of an Egyptian day. The air was like a furnace.
"It's good to be back in Africa." Jake smiled, striding down the stairs and stripping off his jersey to expose his brown arms to the sun.
Martin stood holding the railing, cupping a hand over his eyes to shield them. "It must be over forty degrees Celsius," he said in a weak voice, clearly wilting in the heat. "No one knows I'm here, so maybe I should just wait at the hotel for you to return? I could work on the possible locations for the final seal."
Morgan heard stress and deep fatigue in his voice, the longing for a cool room and some quiet time. They wouldn't be at the temple complex for long so he should be safe enough. She looked over at Jake. He nodded, concern for his friend visible in his eyes.
Morgan opened her pack and handed him the package from Rhodes. "You can keep this one safe for us too."
She was glad that Martin would be safe out of the way. The last time she had been in Egypt in the hunt for the Ark of the Covenant, things had gotten very dangerous indeed. She didn't worry about herself and Jake, but she hated to put Martin in danger. He wasn't cut out for fieldwork but until they knew who had shut him in the vault, he would be best off near them.
But maybe not too near.
They had told Marietti that Martin was here to provide backup in the field. The Director had sounded suspicious but he trusted them enough not to question what was going on. Clearly the threat was within the ARKANE organization itself, so the less he knew, the better.
After getting Martin settled at the Luxor Palace Hotel, Morgan and Jake caught a taxi over to the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut. It was a grand funerary complex, cut out of the towering cliffs at Deir el Bahari. As they drove up, a bank of cloud formed above the temple, casting dramatic shadows over the limestone cliffs as the wind whipped the air into an afternoon storm. Fat drops of rain spattered the earth. A roll of thunder rumbled in the distance.
"Storm's almost here," the taxi driver said, as he took their payment. "Better shelter inside."
Morgan and Jake ran the tourist gauntlet of the hawkers and headed up the long path to the temple, half jogging to get out of the rain until they reached the first level of colonnaded walkways. They turned to look back across the valley as rain pounded the dusty earth before them.
A crash of lightning split the sky, forking down onto the rocky plateau.
This place would have looked similar over three thousand years ago when they built it, Morgan thought. It was a spectacle of death in the Egyptian way, made even more resonant by the massacre of sixty-two people, mainly tourists, in 1997 by a fundamentalist group intent on disrupting the Egyptian economy. Layers of history piled up, alongside the bodies of those who died along the way.
As the rain eased, they walked out of the first colonnade and up the massive ramped staircase in the middle of the triple tiers to the second level.
"Hatshepsut ruled around 1500 BC," Morgan said. "The second historically confirmed female pharaoh. Her temple is dedicated to the sun god, Amun."
"It's pretty stark," Jake noted.
"It would have been hung with gardens back then," Morgan explained. "Frankincense and myrrh trees as well as many other foreign plants."
"So where's the carving?"
As they reached the top of the ramp, Morgan pointed through the colonnade to the inner temple. "Somewhere in there."
They walked through slowly, checking the walls as they went. Relief sculptures told the story of the divine birth of the female Pharaoh and an expedition to the exotic land of Punt on the Red Sea coast. There were statues of Osiris and columns with the cow-head of the goddess Hathor. But as Jake said, it was pretty stark with little personality.
"Her stepson, Thutmose III, destroyed a lot of the statues after her death," Morgan noted. "But once it would have been magnificent, an oasis in the desert. It's aligned to the winter solstice so the sunlight would pierce the inner temple and strike the statue of Osiris."
They walked around a corner and found an impressive wall of carvings in a sheltered niche. A vulture flew with wings outstretched, each feather detailed in blue and green with accents of crimson. Above it, eight cobras in strike pose inched along a frieze, each with a sun disk in a crown on their heads. It was stunning, but not what they sought.
After weaving around the temple behind a group of tourists, they finally found the carving, the original far more impressive than the picture Martin had showed them. Morgan imagined the chisel of the ancient sculptor, his hammer blows ringing out in the temple complex. The Egyptians were builders, that was for sure, and they were right in ensuring a physical memory. Walking lightly on the earth was all very well, and leaving no trace was an admirable philosophy, but what endured if no one built anything? And what would remain of the increasingly digital world when the silicon chips it ran on returned to dust?
"They don't make 'em like this anymore," Jake said, admiring the wall.
"They're still building the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona," Morgan replied. "You loved it there."
"Shame about the circumstance of our visit though." Jake frowned and Morgan knew he was thinking of the death of Santiago Pereira, the beginning of their hunt for the Key to the Gates of Hell not so long ago. He looked around them at the empty temple.
"I'm not sure where we're meant to hunt for this seal. The temple is almost stripped bare."
Morgan nodded. "I agree. Short of setting up a full archaeological survey, we won't find anything here. But there must be more images like this in some of the other tombs. Let's go and ask one of the guides."
Together they walked back to the tourist group who now milled around taking selfies with the colonnade as a backdrop. The guide stood in a corner, checking her phone. She looked up as Morgan and Jake approached and smiled in welcome.
"Can I help you?"
"We're looking for a portrayal of Wadjet, or some kind of serpent, in a tomb," Morgan asked.
"There are plenty of tombs around here." The guide smiled. "Can you be more specific?"
"Something unusual," Jake said. "Something that you wouldn't expect, rather than the usual cobra images."
The guide smiled up at him and thought for a moment. "Probably the best serpent in the valley is portrayed in Ramses I's tomb. It's in the Valley of the Kings, number KV16."
"Thank you, that's –"
Jake's words were cut off by the rattle of gunfire from the plaza below the temple.
Then the screaming started.
19
The guide's face went white with fear at the sound.
"Oh no, not again." She started shouting for her group. "This way, please. Follow me."
There were procedures in place since the terrorist attacks in the 1990s, but Morgan thought this was something different. As the tourist group streamed back through the colonnade, she and Jake slipped out to stand behind the pillars, shadowed by the darkness within. They looked down onto the lower level of the temple. A group of armed men cleared the area, herding the tourists away while another man stalked up the ramp towards them.
Morgan could just make out the snake tattoo on his neck.
"Samael?" she whispered.
Jake nodded. "He mus
t have had the same idea as us."
They slipped back into the temple, following the tourist group, hoping there really was another way out. Or pretty soon, Samael would make it up here and find them.
The guide led her group of tourists deeper into the heart of the temple and then veered right down a small tunnel. She pointed in front of her, herding them through.
"Quickly now," she whispered. "Follow the tunnel down. It's carved through the cliff behind us and emerges in the carpark at the Valley of the Kings."
The group ran down into the tunnel and eventually the sound of gunfire faded, replaced by the dripping of water and the rasp of breathing as the tourists hurried away. Morgan and Jake stayed at the back, just in case anyone came after them.
But no one did.
As they walked down the tunnel, Morgan imagined Samael scouring the funerary complex for any trace of the seal. But he would come up short and likely head for the tombs of the other pharaohs next.
They had to stay ahead of him. She redoubled her speed.
Ten minutes later, the group emerged into the carpark, a wide tarmac area that held back the sands of the desert cliffs around them. The rain was heavier now and the guide corralled her tourists together, pointing them in the direction of coaches parked a little further away. Morgan and Jake turned towards the entrance to the Valley of the Kings, an unimposing start to the magnificence hidden inside the cliffs ahead.
Storm clouds whirled overhead and the rain intensified, hammering down. Morgan and Jake ran onwards, passing groups of tourists with colorful umbrellas heading back out again. The Valley of the Kings looked just like a load of caves cut into rock from the outside, but in the 500 years between the sixteenth and eleventh centuries BC, tombs had been dug here for the great pharaohs of the time. They ranged from simple pits to elaborate complexes, one with 120 chambers that would have been packed with precious objects for the afterlife. Each tomb was marked with a number. Sixty-three in all, most pillaged by grave robbers in antiquity, but Morgan was sure there was more to find in the desert out here.
By the time they found KV16, the tomb of Ramses I, Morgan and Jake were both soaked through.
"I love running in the rain." Morgan laughed as they ducked into the low tunnel.
"Definitely exhilarating." Jake grinned as they both dripped rainwater onto the cave floor.
The tomb was lit with dull electric lights. They attempted to preserve the incredible painting on the walls and ceiling, but also enabled the tourist horde to proceed without tripping over the rocky floor. At peak times, these tombs would be crowded with sweaty groups, flashing pictures while ignoring the No Flash signs and elbowing others out of the way to get a better shot of the Egyptian funerary art. It was macabre tourism drawn here by the dead who had lain here for thousands of years.
But Morgan doubted that people would be so interested without Howard Carter and the curse of Tutankhamun. The discovery of the nearly intact tomb in 1922 sparked worldwide press reports and a renewed interest in Egyptology. The mysterious deaths of those involved had driven the hysteria even higher. The curse was considered by most to be complete fabrication, but the ancient Egyptians had certainly believed in magic. Supernatural forces still swirled about these places but Morgan didn't sense a threat here now. Even so, as they walked down the tunnel, it was clear that the paintings on the walls were meant to keep evil at bay, helping the dead into a happy afterlife.
After several chambers full of interesting paintings, Jake sighed.
"I'm having my doubts that this trip was worth it." He indicated the wall frieze. "Look at this. More servants with more grain and more animals to feed the Pharaoh in the afterlife, but no serpent."
"Just a little further," Morgan said, refusing to believe this was a wasted trip. Especially if Samael had the same idea.
Then they walked into the next chamber.
The wall painting portrayed a gold and green funerary barge. Slaves in white loincloths manned the oars while the Pharaoh sheltered under a canopy. Lines of hieroglyphics ran from top to bottom and Morgan could make out some symbols like the bird with a human head, known as the ba, the soul. Beneath the barge, a large serpent curled in six figure-of-eight loops, an intricate dance of death.
"Now that's what you call a serpent." Jake stepped closer to examine the detail.
"Its shape looks unnatural," Morgan noted. "More like a map. What do you reckon?"
"Could be. You want to go deeper into the tomb?"
Morgan nodded, a sense of excitement growing within her. At this point, they had nothing to lose. She took out her smart phone and took a picture of the curves of the snake.
They walked on through the tomb, quickly arriving at the first turn in the tunnel. There were two options. Morgan looked at the snake image and chose the left, following the undulations of its body.
Soon they reached a safety barrier indicating that the way ahead was closed and dangerous to proceed. A large stone had been rolled in front of the way to stop inquisitive tourists. Jake heaved it aside and they went on.
The lights grew dimmer as they continued following the turns, until only the light from Morgan's phone illuminated the way ahead.
"We must be almost there," she said. "One last turn."
They turned again and Morgan almost fell into blackness as her foot stepped onto air. She put her hand out to brace herself on the wall. Jake caught her round the waist, pulling her to him briefly.
"Careful," he whispered. "I don't want to lose you."
Morgan shone her light forward and down into a pit before them. In the middle was a stone altar with a smaller sarcophagus on top, carved with the undulating shapes of a serpent.
"We have to get down there." Morgan knelt down on the edge. "It's not too far. Can you lower me down?"
Jake held her hands and lowered her as far as he could. She dropped the last meter, landing with bended knees onto soft earth. It smelled damp, as if the rainstorm had found its way through the rock above, down to the chamber beneath. In a strange way, it felt more alive than the dusty tomb that the tourists visited, as if people had worshipped here more recently.
Morgan tried to pull the top from the smaller sarcophagus, but it was too heavy.
"Sorry," she called up to Jake. "You're going to have to come down and help me with this."
"Shine the torch over here."
Morgan turned the light to help him see his way down. He lowered himself as far as he could and then drop-rolled to the ground. Then he came over and heaved the top off.
"Good to know you can't do without me."
Morgan smiled. "Just making you feel useful."
She reached in and pulled out a stone roundel.
"This is it," Morgan whispered. "The sixth seal. It's beautiful."
The intricate carving of the snake wound around the circle, each scale perfectly cut. The others had suffered the ravages of time, but this one had been preserved down here.
With wide eyes, she handed it to Jake and he cupped it in his bigger hand, weighing it slightly.
"It's easier to believe the seals have some kind of intrinsic power when we're down here," he said quietly. "Or at least to think that someone once believed they did."
Suddenly they heard a scuffle in the tunnel above. Torchlight played along the walls, alighting briefly on the faces of the impassive gods.
Someone else was here.
Morgan looked at Jake with alarm. Together, they softly moved directly under the doorway.
"I know you're down there," an American voice called from above. "And I know you have the sixth seal. But I have something you want too."
The sound of someone pushed to the ground. A groan of pain. Then the click of a gun.
"I'm so sorry." Martin Klein's voice filtered down to them in the dark of the crypt. "Please don't –"
A dull thud. A cry of pain, and Martin's words were cut off.
"I have the other seal and your friend. The question is how much do you value
him?"
Jake stepped away from the wall with no hesitation. Morgan moved to his side and they both looked up.
"What do you want?" Jake asked.
Samael stood in the doorway at the top of the crypt. Martin knelt before him, face bloody and streaked with tears, one of his eyeglass lenses broken.
"Throw me the seal. You will have your friend back and I won't shoot all three of you. You're fish in a barrel down there, after all." Samael put his hand on his heart in a slightly mocking way. "You have my word."
Jake weighed the stone object in his hand. "This is the sixth seal, so there's still one more to find."
"True. But after I find it, the sarcophagus can be opened. Such a shame you won't be there to see it."
"Alright," Jake said. "On three."
Samael nodded.
"One, two, three."
On three, Jake threw the seal up towards Samael. The man caught it with one hand, but Martin remained kneeling at his feet.
"You gave your word," Jake said.
Samael laughed. "Of course."
He shoved Martin forward so he tumbled into the pit. Jake rushed forward to break his fall and the two of them ended up in a heap on the rocky ground.
"I promised not to shoot you, but you'll find the tomb sealed up for renovations, if you ever make it out of here. Perhaps the archaeologists of the next generation will find your bodies mummified down here." He smiled. "Now I'm going to retrieve the next seal." He started to walk away, then turned back. "You think those you love are safe, Morgan Sierra. I almost wish you could make it out of here to see that they are not."