Close Up the Sky

by James L. Ferrell

  A gong sounded behind him, interrupting his thoughts. He did not turn toward the sound, but leaned forward and placed both hands on the terrace railing. The barge he had been watching was further along the river now, and a few small boats had put out from the banks in search of fish. Ramses knew the gong announced the arrival of Balkem, Commander of the Egyptian Division, who knelt in the background awaiting an audience. He let Balkem wait while he continued to observe the barge. It was not proper for the Living God to acknowledge the presence of mortals too quickly. Though he was anxious to hear the commander's report, his manner did not reveal it. Making Balkem and others of high station wait upon his pleasure was an exercise he had been taught since childhood. All great kings knew that remaining aloof and untouchable increased one's power over those they ruled.

  When an appropriate amount of time had passed he turned and motioned for Balkem to come forward. The scabbard of the commander's sword rattled against his armor as he quickly rose and moved to within a few feet of the pharaoh where he again knelt, head bowed. Ramses did not command him to rise or even to look up. He regarded the old soldier silently for a long moment. "Has the strange one been cared for, Balkem?" he finally asked.

  Balkem hunched his broad shoulders and bowed his head even lower before answering. He had been one of Ramses's most devoted servants for many years and occupied a high place in his master's eyes, yet the sense of awe he felt when near him never diminished. Most men feared the power of the Living God, and in that respect Balkem was no different. The one thing that set him apart from others of his station was that he not only feared, but also genuinely loved his lord. He had been a soldier in Egypt's service since the time of Ramses's father, the great Ceti. He had served the father well, now he faithfully served the son. "Yes, my lord," he answered reverently. "As we speak he is upon the Nile, according to your command."

  Ramses turned and looked at the river. One of the fishing boats had turned away from its companions and was following at some distance in the wake of the barge. The slanting rays of the sun made its sail change alternately from orange to white as it rolled in the wash of the larger boat. Without taking his eyes from the barge he asked, "Have the boatmen been properly instructed?"

  Balkem cut his eyes upward and ventured a secret glance at his lord's back. "Yes, great one. They will deliver him to the caravan master who will be given your instructions. He will not be released until they reach the final destination. And as you commanded, the Eye of Amen was placed in a container to travel with him.”

  Ramses nodded as he turned toward Balkem. The commander quickly averted his eyes. “Did you observe anything unusual as he was being moved through the streets?” the king asked.

  “No, lord. Many people followed us to the quays and watched as he was placed aboard the boat, but I saw nothing to indicate that any of his kind were present.”

  He regarded the commander momentarily then said, “Rise, Balkem. As always, you have done well.”

  Balkem’s chest swelled with pride at the king’s compliment. He stood and joined Ramses on the terrace. The king returned to his vigilance of the barge. Balkem traced his line of sight until his own eyes found the craft. A small red pennant flew from its mast. He recognized it as the one carrying the strange one.

  “Will they retaliate against us, lord?” he asked in a low voice.

  Ramses remained silent, considering the question. He felt a wave of fear again and fought against it. Amen had saved him once from the wrath of the sea people, but would he come to his aid a second time? Even he, the Living God of Egypt, did not know the answer. “I pray that they do not, Balkem. We have done nothing to warrant their displeasure. Our physicians did all within their power to save the strange one. If he dies it will not be of our doing.”

  When Balkem made no immediate reply, the king’s attention drifted to the city spread out below him. His thoughts returned to the battle he had fought with the sea people so long ago. His brow furrowed and he glanced at his forearm where the scar made a white streak against the tan skin. In all his life he had not prayed with such intensity as he had on that day. For years travelers coming to his court had been bringing tales of the mysterious village and metal structures the sea people had erected in the desert. They told of huge ships that rode the waters near the village, and the screaming birds that drove away anyone who approached the area. There were also tales of a great tube that stretched across the sand from the land of the northern tribes to the shores of the sea.

  Egypt, as undisputed leader of the world, could not permit such a threat to its security, so the king had mounted a military expedition against the intruders. He had personally led the elite Egyptian Division against them and had met with unthinkable disaster. They had not even gotten close to the sea people's village before the huge birds attacked them with roaring lances of fire. The lances struck the earth in front of the soldiers with thunderous power, and great pieces of the desert were torn out in clouds of roiling smoke. Horses and men screamed in terror, and many fell in the stampede to escape the raining death. The earth shook and trembled as though all the gods of eternity were at war with his army. The arrows and spears of his soldiers were useless as the birds swarmed around them. He felt the wind from their whirling wings as they darted with incredible speed over the ranks of his army. But even in the face of such unthinkable power Ramses had stood tall in his chariot, lance raised high in defiance. At sight of their king’s strength the commanders had reformed their units and urged them onward toward the village of the sea people. It was then that the enemy had struck the decisive blow.

  The birds had suddenly departed, roaring away to the north, causing a mighty cheer from the soldiers. The army had barely begun to move again when it happened. He and Balkem had been at the forefront of the troops, and were among the first to see the great streak of fire flying across the sky toward them. The men fell silent, and thirty thousand pairs of eyes had watched as an enormous lance began to descend toward the desert in front of them. When it struck it was as though the world had been smashed by the fist of Amen. There was a blinding flash of light, and an enormous fireball rose into the sky. As the fire diminished, a blistering wall of hot air knocked half his army to the ground. Pharaoh himself was struck by a piece of flying metal that ripped the muscles of his forearm. Chariots, horses, men, and equipment flew about as though the greatest storm ever known had swept over them. The desert became a blinding whirlwind of sand that stung the skin and blotted out the sun. Afterwards, when the first reddish rays of sunlight began to break through the dust, the pharaoh knew that no earthly army could stand against the power of the sea people. So when the commanders had finally reorganized their troops the army turned back toward Egypt, never to return.

  Ten years had passed since that day, and now the strange one had come among them searching for the Eye of Amen. He had been captured while trying to enter the temple under cover of darkness and had been brought before the pharaoh for judgment. That he was one of the sea people there was little doubt. He wore a strange black costume that shimmered like water in sunlight. He suffered from a terrible head wound, and though he called it by an unfamiliar name, he babbled incoherently about the Eye. He spoke the Egyptian language, but constantly slipped into a strange tongue that not even the most learned of scholars could understand. It was obvious that the wound had damaged his mind, and he had eventually fallen into a deep sleep from which they could not awaken him.

  Remembering the power of the sea people, and fearing reprisal if the man was harmed further, the pharaoh had ordered the court physicians to care for his wound and watch over him. Many days passed before the stranger regained consciousness. When at last he awoke he spoke only in the unknown language, and like a madman, fiercely attacked anyone within reach. It was impossible to communicate with him, so the pharaoh had issued orders that he was to be transported as close to the village of the sea people as possible and set free. Early that morning his soldiers had carried him to the river
and placed him aboard a barge bound for the caravan routes. Ramses now watched the barge on which he was confined as it moved slowly along the Nile. With him went the king’s greatest treasure, the Eye of Amen.

  “Is there no defense we can prepare, my lord?” Balkem asked, interrupting the king's thoughts. But the commander already knew the answer; it was simply a gesture of hope to ask it of the king.

  “We have already done what could be done,” Ramses replied. He grasped the railing and squeezed until his knuckles were white and the cords in his forearms stood out like cables. As a soldier he had always lived by the sword, leading Egypt’s armies against her enemies in fair battle. Face your enemy, pit metal against metal, flesh against flesh, and defeat him with superior tactics. To him there was no other way to fight. But a foe who could not be reached, and who possessed such enormous power, was beyond the capabilities of his forces. Against such an enemy the army of Egypt was as helpless as a suckling child.

  Since the day of the disastrous battle he had considered the sea people to be Egypt's most deadly threat, yet they had never retaliated for his attempted invasion. In fact, the colossal weapon they had used against him had killed very few of his soldiers. Noses bled, ears were deafened, and many were rendered unconscious by the shock, but no real damage had occurred. It was customary for the victor to sack the country they had defeated and demand tribute in slaves and treasure, but the sea people had done neither. Moreover, he had been allowed to take his army back to Egypt without pursuit. It appeared that if they were left alone to carry out whatever mysterious mission in which they were engaged, the sea people would not harm them further. For that reason the desert tribes, including the formidable Egyptians, completely avoided them. He hoped that the release of the strange one would be interpreted as a sign of non-aggression, but only time would tell. By nightfall that person would be well on his way to the caravan port of Ipu and Thebes would be out of danger. But the Eye of Amen still troubled Ramses. Why had the strange one been so insistent about that? Had he really come to steal it, and who had inflicted the wound to his head? Were more of the sea people secretly here in Thebes at this moment, and if so, what was their mission?

  “Should I place more guards around the palace?” Balkem asked, breaking the silence.

  “No, there is nothing to do but wait. I believe we will soon have the answers to our questions. If he was really sent to steal the Eye of Amen, others may have accompanied him and would have seen us place him aboard the barge.”

  Balkem let out an audible breath. Though he understood the wisdom of his master's words, doing nothing made him feel impotent. However, he had considered their dilemma for many days and could think of no better plan to offer the king. For that reason he remained silent. He had no idea who or what the madman aboard the barge might be. He only knew that he babbled in a strange language and spouted prophecies of doom in broken Egyptian. The old soldier sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the fatigue he felt.

  A gust of hot wind suddenly blew across them. The distant horizon looked dark, as though a heavy mist hung in the air. Both men had lived in the desert all their lives and instantly recognized the darkness for what it was. As a friend, the desert had always protected Egypt from invasion. No army had ever been able to cross its burning sands to successfully attack them. But it could also be a deadly enemy to those who did not understand its changing whims. Now, a great sandstorm that knew neither friend nor foe was approaching. They watched it grow taller and begin spreading giant tendrils across the sky. It had been many years since a storm of such apparent magnitude had raged across Thebes.

  The gong that had announced Balkem sounded again. This time a young female servant entered and prostrated herself on the floor. She wore a long white dress that clung tightly to her body. One wide strap crossed the left shoulder, leaving her right breast bare. A silver diadem that bore the royal cartouche encircled her long black hair, setting off the comely features of her face. Her name was Tuahla, one of Queen Nefertari's handmaidens.

  This time there was no waiting. Ramses strode back into the room, followed by Balkem. "What is it, Tuahla?" he asked.

  The girl kept her head slightly bowed as she raised herself to her knees. She cut her dark eyes up at the king and spoke in a soft, melodious voice. "The queen bade me tell you that a storm is coming, my lord."

  Ramses glanced over his shoulder at the approaching storm then looked back at the girl. "Yes, we have seen it. Tell the queen there is nothing to fear. I will be there momentarily."

  Tuahla prostrated herself again then got to her feet. Placing her palms together beneath her chin, she backed out of the room.

  When she was gone Balkem said, "I should see to my troops, great one." It was his way of asking permission to leave.

  Ramses placed a hand on Balkem's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "Take care, old friend," he said. "Egypt can suffer many things, but she cannot do without you."

  Balkem's lips compressed into a thin line, and he took a deep breath through his nose. Pharaoh's compliment not only filled him with pride, it also renewed his determination to protect his lord with his life. He knelt on one knee and bowed his head in respect before leaving.

  When he had gone Ramses walked over to a small decorative chest sitting on a stand in one corner of the room. He opened the lid and removed a coin-sized silver disk on a thin, finely crafted chain. It was the only thing belonging to the strange one that had not been returned to him. It did not appear to be particularly valuable. It was not made of gold, or even silver. The royal treasury held many items of beauty and worth beside which the disk would pale, but for some reason he had felt compelled to keep it. A hieroglyphic of unsurpassed delicacy decorated its center. The hieroglyphic was of a man wearing a long, flowing garment. In one hand he carried a staff, while the other one balanced a small child on his shoulder. A circular pattern of strange marks that reminded Ramses of the wedge-shaped writing used by the Persians encircled the image. Though the characters had been diligently studied, none of the Egyptian scribes or scholars had been able to decipher them.

  He closed the lid and walked back to the terrace, taking the necklace with him. The mighty sandstorm was spreading out for miles across the western horizon. Ramses could already feel hot air flowing across his naked chest. The silken curtains hanging on each side of the terrace portals twisted and fluttered in the leading winds. He held the disk before him by the end of its chain and watched it spin and sway in the rushing air. Yes, I think we will soon know the answers to many of our questions, he thought. At length he returned to the security of his quarters where he struck the gong. Slaves appeared as if by magic and began closing the terrace doors against the approaching storm.

  Ramses went again to the chest and opened the lid. He scrutinized the disk for a long moment then dropped it inside. He remained still for a while, deep in thought. At last he closed the lid and made his way to the queen's chambers.

  Inside the chest the disk lay face up in the darkness. The Egyptian scholars had not been able to decipher the language around the image for a very simple but unimagined reason: It had no roots in the world they knew, and would not evolve to become part of man's heritage for thousands of years. But when that day came, millions would know the words by heart and would say them as a prayer of deliverance: 'St. Christopher Protect Us.'

  Chapter 12

  Leahy found himself enveloped in a maelstrom of hot, sandy air. He threw one hand across his eyes and grabbed out wildly with the other as he felt the ground dissolve beneath his feet. The wind lifted him and blew him backward, head-over-heels down a steep slope. Pebbles and loose shale tore at his face, while sand filled his mouth as he fought to flip over onto his stomach. He dug his fingers into the loose earth in an attempt to check his momentum, but he continued to slide. Without warning the slope ended and he plunged headfirst over a sheer edge. Eight feet down he struck solid ground. His shoulder hit first, then his head; lightning exploded
in his brain. The impact left him semi-conscious but still functioning. Fighting off giddiness, he struggled to his knees. He stretched his arms outward in both directions and felt the rocky walls of a narrow crevasse.

  The wind was not as powerful in the crevasse as on the surface, but the swirling grit was still blinding. Waves of sand cascading down the slope began to pile up around him. Through the fog in his head something told him that if he remained where he was he would be buried alive. He tried to stand but dizziness forced him back to his knees. In desperation he began to crawl along the narrow floor, inching his way, trying to stay on top of the shifting sand.

  Pain brought on a bout of nausea, and he vomited sticky bile. Grit clung to the drool around his lips and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His head pounded and he thought he might lose consciousness, but he continued to crawl. Twenty feet further his hand slipped into a horizontal fissure in the left wall. He explored the opening and found that it was large enough to crawl inside. He felt his way through the entrance and pulled himself a few feet inside. The space began to widen as he worked his way in. The wind continued to scream through the narrow confines of the crevasse, but inside his rocky sanctuary it was relatively calm. There was enough room for him to roll over and remove his pack. He pulled the top flap loose from its Velcro fasteners and fumbled inside for his flashlight. Thumbing it on, he saw that he was in a small cave-like hole that angled slightly away from the wind. The ceiling at one end was high enough to allow him to sit up, so he maneuvered to that end and leaned against the wall.