Storms and Scarabs

by H. R. Hobbs

  “Really?” Jabari looked at Mitch. “How do you know this?”

  “I saw Ammon do it. He took me to prepare the altar this morning.”

  Jabari thought for a moment. “That’s one less thing we have to worry about.”

  “He also tried to find the book,” Brock added, glaring at Mitch.

  Jabari pierced Mitch with his disapproving gaze. “You are not to look for that book!” Jabari sounded like his father. “You have no idea the power that Ammon wields as the high priest. I’d hate for you to be sitting in prison after you found out. We have two days until the funeral. From now until then, you will not do anything to raise Ammon’s suspicions. We are going to get you boys home, and that’s all we need to focus on right now.”

  Mitch looked at Brock. He could tell he agreed with Jabari.

  “All right. I’ll do as you ask.”

  Jabari studied him and appeared convinced of the sincerity in his words. “Good.” He slipped his hand into his robes and pulled out a short knife with a silver handle. “I didn’t want to risk giving you this on the day of the funeral.” He looked about for prying eyes. “Use it to get the scarab off the goblet. And, if necessary . . . to protect yourself.” He handed the knife to Mitch, who tucked it into his robes with shaking hands. “We stick to the plan—no going off and being a hero.” He raised his eyebrows in question.

  “Got it,” Mitch answered.

  The trio continued down the steps. As Brock was about to get in the litter, he turned to Mitch. “Stay safe. We’re almost home. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I won’t.”

  Brock followed Jabari into the litter and Mitch watched as they left the palace.

  Back in his room, he thought about what Brock had said. They were almost home. Mitch thought about how wonderful that was going to be. Soon he was going to see his parents and even his sister. If you’d asked him before all this if he’d ever missed her, he’d have said “No way!” But now? He might even let her call him “runt” without losing his temper. He was going to eat all of his favourite foods: lasagna, steak, and ice cream. Then he was going to do a marathon game session for at least two days. And sleep on a mattress! That was going to be heaven. Once he started, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he was going to do. He ran through the list of things he missed over and over again, and with a smile on his face, he fell asleep.

  Chapter 27

  Ammon cancelled their lesson for the next morning, claiming he had too many things to do before the funeral the following day. Instead, he had Mitch help with the preparation of the temple. Two large chairs, or thrones, had been brought in for the pharaoh and his wife. They were placed on a dais facing the altar. Ammon directed the positioning as servants moved them into place.

  “Are they the only chairs?” Mitch asked as he stood beside Ammon.

  Ammon didn’t reply to his question. He gestured for the men to move the chairs closer. Mitch didn’t think now was the time to repeat his question.

  With the position of the chairs settled, Ammon turned and said, “Yes, only Pharaoh and his queen will be seated during the ceremony. Everyone else will stand. Including you. After the funeral, we will form a procession through the city to the burial site where the prince will be laid to rest.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You will attend the ceremony and procession along with the rest of the palace guests.”

  “But I didn’t know the prince.” Mitch had only ever been to one funeral and that was for his grandfather, Great-Grandpa George’s son. But he was pretty sure this funeral was going to be nothing like that. Besides, how was he going to sneak into the temple after the procession left for the burial at the pyramid if he was part of the funeral procession?

  “Whether you knew the prince or not is irrelevant. All guests of Pharaoh are expected to attend. That includes you. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No . . . I guess I just didn’t think I’d be invited. Where I come from, it’s usually only relatives and close friends who attend a funeral.”

  “Hmm . . .” Ammon thought about what Mitch said. “That is a very strange custom. Here we celebrate the passage to the afterlife, and everyone joins in the celebration. You will see tomorrow when we travel through the city to the pyramid. The residents of the city will line the streets.”

  It sounded more like a party than a funeral to Mitch. But if this was going to be a city-wide celebration, that would work into his and Brock’s plan better. They would be able to slip away without drawing attention to themselves.

  Women entered the temple carrying baskets of flowers. Ammon followed them and directed where he wanted the flowers placed.

  “Mitch!” Ammon called to him. “I need you to go back to my office and bring back the Book of the Dead.”

  Mitch hurried out of the temple while dodging servants carrying different items into the temple. The office was empty when he arrived. A large number of items Mitch assumed were for the funeral lay scattered about. There were bowls, utensils, and—was that a wax head in the likeness of the prince?

  Gross!

  Going to the desk, Mitch searched for the scroll that would accompany the prince to the afterlife—

  And uncovered the book with gold lettering.

  He froze.

  Forgetting what he was here for, he pulled it closer.

  The book had been open the last time and he hadn’t had a chance to study it closely. The leather was worn, and the gold leafing had been torn off in places. Mitch’s fingers itched to open it. But he had promised Jabari and Brock he wouldn’t put their plan in jeopardy. He ran his hand over the lettering. It was written in hieroglyphs he didn’t recognize, so Mitch wasn’t sure what it said.

  It wouldn’t hurt if he just took a peek, would it?

  Checking the doorway to make sure he was still alone, he lifted the cover of the book. The ancient papyrus crackled loudly in the room as he turned the first page. The book had to be over two hundred pages. The first page was covered in symbols. Mitch studied them, trying to decipher what they said from his lessons with Ammon. If he was translating it correctly, it said the book was the property of Amr. Amr, Mitch knew, was Ammon’s grandfather and the high priest when Great-Grandpa George—or “Peran,” as the nomads had apparently called him—found himself in Ancient Egypt.

  Knowing he should close the book, but not wanting to, Mitch went to turn the next page when his fingers touched a bookmark. Mitch pulled back the pages to the marked section.

  It was the same page he’d looked at before with the picture of the spyglass and the ragged seam of the torn-out picture of the scarab. Had Ammon noticed what he’d done? He hadn’t had time to decipher the book last time, but he should be able to figure out more about what the book said now.

  Knowing Ammon would be expecting him shortly, Mitch tried to make out as much as he could of what the page said. It looked like there had been different entries over time. He recognized the symbol for Peran, the traveller, his great-grandpa George, first. There was another symbol for the spyglass and King Necho. Those he knew for sure. There was one symbol he didn’t recognize. Could it have something to do with the Prophecy of Aten? Knowing the book had belonged to Amr, he thought that was a pretty good guess. Mitch ran his finger over the symbols. If Mitch was translating correctly, it said that the arrival of his great-grandpa, or Peran, was a sign that the Prophecy of Aten would be fulfilled. Mitch read on. Apparently, Amr had tried to get the spyglass from George but wasn’t successful. The last part described Amr’s frustration at his great-grandpa’s sudden disappearance.

  Way to go, Great-Grandpa George!

  He closed the book and arranged the papers back on top, exactly the way he thought they were when he came in. He’d better find what he’d come here for, or Ammon was going to be suspicious. The end of a scroll peeked out of the bottom of a stack of papers. Grabbing the Book of the Dead, he hurried back to the temple.<
br />
  Mitch couldn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned. Anxious about the funeral the next day, stealing the scarab, and the Prophecy of Aten.

  When dawn lit the sky, he got out of bed. The first thing that caught his eye was the ceremonial robes he was to wear today. Ammon had had it delivered last night. Mitch shuddered at the bright orange and blue material. He was going to stand out like a sore thumb, which wasn’t good for what they had planned today. His jeans and T-shirt were stuffed in the trunk at the end of his bed. There were going to be hundreds of people in the palace today and he couldn’t risk someone catching a glimpse of his clothes under his robes. At least the robes had a pocket to hide the knife.

  But he put the bright clothes out of his mind. For a moment, Mitch let himself hope that when he woke up tomorrow morning, he was going to be home. He would be able to have pancakes loaded with syrup for breakfast. Alyssa would be her usual irritable self—and he would actually enjoy it.

  As he was daydreaming about the possibilities of the next day, a servant came in and placed his breakfast on the balcony—and it wasn’t pancakes. A note was tucked under the plate of bread. It was written in hieroglyphs. If he was translating it properly, it said to be at the temple in one hour. There was no signature. Probably Ammon making sure he arrived on time and testing his translation skills.

  Mitch ate his breakfast, dressed in the gaudy robes, and made his way to the temple. The palace was stuffed with people coming and going. Some appeared to be here as guests for the funeral, while others carried food and drink to feed them all.

  Jabari and Brock were at the temple when he got there. They were overseeing the prince, whose body lay in front of the altar. The body was bound in strips of linen—probably the same ones Mitch and Brock had spent so much time tearing.

  The pharaoh and his wife laid gold pieces on the prince’s body. Mitch had never seen that much gold in his life—and he’d been living in the palace for the past month. When they were finished, they took their seats on the chairs.

  A large crowd stood behind them. Jabari and Brock joined him at the edge of the crowd.

  Ammon raised his hands and began to pray. The ceremony went on for some time. Ammon offered gifts to the gods from the plates and goblets on the altar. The incense burned, and the smell made Mitch’s nervous stomach roll. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Ammon said another prayer and the ceremony was over. A group of men came forward and lifted the prince’s body. The pharaoh and the queen stood. As the men lifted the body to their shoulders, they followed them out of the temple. Ammon led the group forward. The crowd followed behind. The coffin of the prince would be hauled by workers through the streets of Men-nefer to his resting place in the pyramid.

  Mitch looked to Jabari and Brock. It was now or never.

  They waited on the edge of the crowd until the last person had left the temple.

  Mitch took the knife from the folds of his robes. With Jabari and Brock standing guard, he moved to the altar. The goblet sat in its position. Mitch glanced at Jabari again, who nodded. Turning the goblet around, Mitch gave a sigh of relief at seeing the scarab. He stuck the point of the knife under the stone and pried. At first, it didn’t budge. He put more force on the blade and the scarab popped onto the table.

  He picked it up and slipped the knife back into his robes.

  “You got it?”

  Brock’s voice reflected the excitement Mitch felt.

  “Yes! Let’s get out of here.”

  With his heart beating a mile a minute, he led Brock and Jabari out of the temple using the secret passage he’d discovered behind the hanging tapestry. The palace was eerily quiet as they made their way back to Mitch’s room. The hustle and bustle before the funeral was now replaced with silence.

  “You’ve got the spyglass?” Mitch asked over his shoulder.

  “Right here.” Brock pulled it from his robes.

  “I’m not thrilled that we’re going to arrive home in these . . .” Mitch plucked at the fabric of his robes.

  “I don’t care as long as we get home,” Brock replied, laughing.

  “Onto the balcony!” Jabari pulled back the curtains for them to step through.

  The boys stood facing each other. Mitch held the scarab and Brock held the spyglass.

  “Wait!” Mitch turned to Jabari. “Thank you for all your help. Without you we never would have made it this far.”

  “Say goodbye to Rehema and Sara for us,” Brock added. Brock sounded like he was going to cry.

  Jabari enveloped them both in a tight hug. “I will miss you both. I hope you have safe travels home.” Then he thumped them both on the back and stepped away.

  Brock took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.” He began turning the spyglass, lining up the arrows so they pointed the opposite from the way they got here. He then grabbed Mitch’s hand that held the scarab, and they both squeezed their eyes shut.

  Nothing happened.

  No sense of falling. No black mist.

  Just the sound of Jabari gasping—

  —and Ammon’s cold voice.

  “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  The boys’ eyes popped open. Ammon stood in the doorway to the balcony.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at the funeral possession?” Mitch burst out.

  Ammon smiled. “I am. But I couldn’t let the two of you get away with the Spyglass of Necho while I was gone, now, could I?”

  “You . . . you knew what was going on all along?” Brock stuttered.

  “Of course.” Ammon smiled even wider.

  Mitch wanted to wipe the smug look off his face.

  “Two strangers show up from a strange land that no one has heard of, wanting to be apprentices? That was the first clue. They speak English? The only person known to speak English was the Peran traveller. Clue number two. I separate you, in the hopes that you will reveal who you are and where the spyglass is. Instead, you sneak about the palace looking for lapis lazuli scarabs and an ancient book that belonged to my grandfather. Clue number three. You conveniently find the scarab on a goblet in the temple.”

  Noticing the shocked look on Mitch’s face at that revelation, he chuckled.

  “Yes, that was me. I planted it there after the night in my office where you saw me conjure the spyglass from the Holy Book. You didn’t know that I had arranged this? Unfortunate. For you. Which brings us to now. You assumed I had blessed the scarab in the name of Toth. As is necessary for you to get home.”

  Ammon’s eyes glinted.

  “I did not. That’s why you are still standing here. Now, I will take the spyglass and the scarab. I thank you for helping me bring a two-thousand-year-old prophecy to life.”

  Mitch felt anger and disappointment well up inside him. After all this time, the high priest had known all along. He ran toward Ammon, hating him for ruining their plan to get home, but his arms were seized before he could reach the man.

  “Guards! Throw them in the dungeon.”

  Suddenly, they were surrounded. Guards grabbed them by the arms and marched them through the corridors and down a narrow set of stairs. They struggled to get free, but they were no match for the strength of the guards, and they were outnumbered three to one. Even if they were to get free, they wouldn’t get far.

  At the bottom of the stairs it was nearly pitch-black. The smell nearly made Mitch throw up. It reminded him of the pig pen they had landed in, only ten times worse. The light from the few torches that burned revealed cells with bars. Straw littered the ground. Moans of pain came from one of the cells.

  The guards stopped in front of a cell. The door was opened, and they were tossed inside.

  Mitch cried out as he landed on the rough stone floor. The door clanged shut and the guards left. Rubbing his shoulder, Mitch sat up.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. He could only make out their outlines in the dark cell.

  “No,” Brock answered. “How are we goin
g to get out of here?”

  “We are not going to panic,” Jabari’s calm voice came from Mitch’s right.

  “Fine for you to say!” Brock’s voice was loud and high. “You aren’t thousands of years away from home!”

  “That is true, Brock. But we are not out of options yet.”

  “What do you mean?” Mitch was in agreement with Brock. It looked like they were stuck here forever.

  “We still have a few resources at our disposal,” Jabari said mysteriously.

  “Like what?” Mitch was sceptical. They’d just lost the spyglass and the scarab. What else could they possibly use?

  “I had some suspicions about Ammon and his interest in you, Mitch. I was afraid that something like this was going to happen.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us that?” Brock sniffled.

  “I could not be certain. But I did make some contingencies in case something went wrong.”

  “Care to tell us what they are?” Mitch couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

  “I have been doing a little research about the spyglass myself. Remember, it was my grandfather who helped your great-grandfather all those years ago.”

  “We remember,” Mitch said. “But how does that help us now?”

  “Looking through my grandfather’s papers, I found that there is one more thing you have in common with your great-grandfather and King Necho’s explorer.”

  “What?”

  “A storm. King Necho lost the spyglass during a storm. Your great-grandfather came here during a storm. And it was the scarab that took him back. A storm brought you here. Maybe a storm could take you back.”

  “Without the spyglass, it doesn’t matter if there is a storm,” Brock grumbled.

  “True,” Jabari said. “First, we find a way out of here. Next, find the spyglass. And then, if I am correct, we can get you home during the next storm.”

  “There’s not much chance of us getting out of here during a storm. The drought, remember?” There was a shuffling of straw from where Mitch thought Brock was sitting.