Close Up the Sky

by James L. Ferrell

  By late afternoon the lay of the land had changed again. The plain-like terrain over which he had been traveling since his encounter with the thieves had given way to gullies, small hills, and masses of jutting rock. Dry, stubby bushes that resembled sage dotted the ground where there was enough soil for them to take root. Here, the going was much tougher and his progress was severely impeded. He slipped and fell a number of times while crossing the gullies, but the L-suit protected him from the cuts and scrapes he would have received without it.

  He knew the Nile lay due east, and he had been using the sun as a reference point in his trek. During the morning hours it had been easy to keep on course; all he had to do was walk into the sun. Now it was behind him, and the going was much more difficult. He began to rely on the compass, but in spite of its aid he still found himself wandering off at an angle to his intended course. Because of that, he frequently checked over his shoulder at landmarks he had passed just to keep reasonably straight. It was during one of those checks that he discovered he was again being followed. There was the barest flicker of movement as something ducked behind a boulder several hundred yards behind him. A few minutes later the movement repeated itself. He continued moving, doing nothing to alert the follower that he had been detected. Just ahead he saw a rocky stratum about ten feet high. As he passed around it, he jumped to his right, dropped the pack, and flattened himself against the opposite side. He listened intently for footsteps, but heard only the gentle sighing of a breeze. He stood still for an interminable time, barely breathing. The sound came just as he was about to give up and peer around the edge of the rock. It was almost inaudible, cut off as soon as it was made. Someone just around the corner had slipped on a loose stone and sucked in his breath.

  He took out the Beretta and gripped it in his left hand. A full minute passed, but no one appeared. A droplet of sweat trickled down the side of his nose and across his upper lip. The little breeze died away, magnifying the silence. More perspiration formed on the outer edge of his left eye. It started to sting and he squeezed the lid shut. At that same instant a man stepped into view. With startling speed he jumped from his position behind the ridge and delivered a terrific blow with his right fist to the pit of the man's stomach. The stalker made a wheezing cry as air rushed from his lungs. The punch bent him double, and Leahy followed up with a fierce uppercut with his knee. It caught the man full in the face and knocked him to the ground. He screamed, covered his face with both hands, and rolled onto his side in the fetal position.

  Leahy stepped back and brought the Beretta up in a two-handed police grip, ready for more attackers. He scanned the area around him, but saw nothing. The injured man moved as though about to get up.

  “Freeze!” Leahy barked in English. "Damn," he muttered, then said in Egyptian, "Do not move, or you will die."

  The man held up his hands, palms forward. As he raised his head Leahy saw blood oozing from smashed lips. "Please do not kill me, lord," he pleaded in broken Egyptian. "I meant no harm."

  Leahy eased the pressure on the trigger, but kept the weapon pointed at the man's head. "Who are you, and why were you following me?" he demanded.

  "I am called Hanik, lord. A humble servant of the Morruk tribe. I followed you because I have never before seen a god." He twisted his body into a prone position, face down, arms stretched full length toward Leahy.

  "Why do you call me a god?" Leahy asked. He lowered the pistol, but remained on guard.

  “Lord, who but a god may command the thunder?” He kept his face pressed to the ground, muffling his voice.

  Leahy eyed him suspiciously. "You were with that band of thieves this morning," he accused. "You would have robbed and murdered me."

  "We did not know who you were, lord," he replied in a trembling voice. "Please forgive us."

  Alert for any sudden moves, Leahy went to the man's side and carefully patted him down for weapons. He located a small curved knife under his robe near the waist. He removed it, threw it away, and stepped back a few feet. "Get up," he commanded.

  While Hanik was getting to his feet, Leahy again scanned the area for the rest of the band. No one was visible, but the irregular terrain provided a multitude of hiding places. They could have been within a hundred yards and he would not have seen them. He scrutinized the man before him. His sparse beard was caked with blood and dirt from lying face down on the ground. He wore a filthy, knee-length robe of a light colored material with brown vertical stripes. A leather thong that served as a belt held the garment around his waist. Instead of shoes, he wore loose fitting sandals secured by leather cords tied around the ankles. The toenails jutting out the ends were gnarled and broken, as were his fingernails. A grimy looking rag made from the same material as the robe was tied around his head for protection from the sun. Now that he had a closer look, Leahy remembered him from his earlier encounter with the Morruks. The face set in oily black hair reminded him of a rat. "Where are the rest of your men?" he demanded.

  Hanik eyed the pistol and licked his thin lips. "In our camp, lord, to the north." He cocked his head in that direction.

  "Why are they not with you?"

  "They were afraid, lord. Their courage deserted them when you cast the thunder at us. I alone followed you."

  Leahy grunted. "So you are braver than the rest, are you?" he said with a sneer.

  The Morruk made no reply to the sarcastic remark. He averted his eyes and pretended to be looking at the ground, humbled.

  "I have no desire to kill you, Hanik, but if you wish to live you will not follow me again. My patience grows short. If I see you after this day, you will die." It was an empty threat and he knew it. There were a number of reasons why he might kill a man, but this was not one of them. It was just the only thing he could think of that sounded like something a pissed-off god might say. In any event, it had the desired effect. Hanik fell to his knees and put both palms on the ground. He fairly cringed in terror.

  "I do not wish to die, mighty one," he whined, "but it would be better to meet death at your hands than to go back in failure. Nessif will surely kill me in a most horrible way." He hunched his skinny shoulders and trembled piteously.

  "What do you mean?" Leahy asked. He could not see Hanik's eyes, but he had the feeling that they were turned upward toward him.

  "It was not courage alone that made me follow you, lord. Our leader fears that we have offended you, and that if you are not appeased you will bring the wrath of the gods down upon the Morruk tribe. For that reason he sent me, his most humble servant, to find you. It is his greatest wish that you will honor us with your presence so that we may celebrate your coming with a feast. I am to be your guide, lord. Command me, and I will obey."

  Leahy had no intention of accompanying Hanik to the Morruk camp, but it occurred to him that the man might be useful in another way. Until now he had only been guessing about the distance to the Nile, but Hanik would doubtless know its exact location. He might also be valuable in helping to avoid any impassable terrain that might further delay his reaching the river. Since the man believed him to be a god, Leahy saw no reason why he should not turn it to his advantage. But he did not delude himself. His previous experience with the Morruks had taught him that Hanik was more than just a simple desert nomad who only wanted to please a god. The ratty look was not just the way nature had arranged his features, it was also a personal characteristic.

  "Stand up!" Leahy commanded.

  Hanik got to his feet and regarded him expectantly.

  "Perhaps you can make amends for your earlier transgression," Leahy offered. He pointed a finger directly in Hanik's face and tried to look as omnipotent as possible. "But if you fail me, I will be without mercy." It had the desired effect. Hanik dropped to his knees again and clasped his hands together against his chest.

  "You have only to command me, lord. Say the words and I will obey." His voice had a slight tremble, but whether it was real or only for effect Leahy could not tell.

  "You
are familiar with the land around us?"

  "I have traveled here many times, great one. Not even the scorpions know the desert as well as I." His tone was growing more confident.

  "How far is it to the great river?"

  A narrow-eyed look flickered across Hanik's face, but disappeared as quickly as it had come. He cast a surreptitious glance toward the east then looked back at Leahy. "Less than half a day's march."

  "What lies between here and the water?"

  "Only the desert."

  "There are no people?"

  "People, my lord?"

  "Yes, people. Other tribes."

  "This is the land of the Egyptians, lord. They alone are permitted to live here."

  Leahy stuck the pistol back in his pocket and walked over to his pack. He put it on and gestured for Hanik to get up. "Lead me to the river, Hanik. Walk before me and see that your steps are true. If you serve me well you will be rewarded; if you fail me, you will die."

  The Morruk scrambled to his feet and bowed. "It shall be as you command, great one. The river is this way." He beckoned for Leahy to follow and started off in a northerly direction.

  Instead of following, Leahy stood his ground. "Is the river not in that direction?" He nodded toward the east.

  Hanik scurried to within a few feet of him, and bowed slightly. "That is true, but in that direction there is a great rift. It is between us and the river. We must go north to avoid it."

  Leahy peered at the man, trying to read what lay behind the smiling mask of his face. For the first time he noticed that Hanik's teeth were small and pointed, accentuating his rat-like appearance. For a few seconds he continued to stare at him in silence then relented. He would soon know if he was being conned, but for the moment it was expedient to give Hanik the benefit of a doubt.

  "Lead on," he directed. They started off toward the north, Hanik ten paces ahead.

  Late in the afternoon they came to the base of a high ridge. Leahy estimated it to be at least five hundred feet above the rest of the terrain. At first its rocky face rose almost vertically; but as they continued to walk around it, the angle of incline began to lessen. When the slope became gentle enough to climb, Leahy called a halt. He took out his water bottle, drank sparingly from it, replaced the cap and tossed it to Hanik.

  The Morruk caught it and tried to pull the cap off like a cork. When it refused to budge, he scratched his head and gave Leahy a baffled look. Leahy made a twisting motion with his fingers. Hanik imitated him and the cap came off easily. He screwed it on and off several times, studying the threads. At last he grinned and nodded. He turned the bottle up and drank greedily. When his thirst was slaked, he recapped the bottle and nodded to Leahy in gratitude. He bowed slightly and said, "Thank you, lord."

  "Wait here," Leahy said. He shucked off the pack and dropped it at his feet.

  "My lord?" Hanik questioned. Droplets of water glistened in the whiskers around his mouth.

  "I will climb to the summit," Leahy said. He pointed to the top of the ridge. "Wait here until I return."

  "As you will, lord." Hanik replied with a bow.

  Leahy turned and started up the slope. The climb was difficult at first, but about halfway to the top the steep angle began to level off toward a round summit. The angle of the hill caused him to lose sight of Hanik, who sat on the ground near the bottom. Because of that, he did not see the Morruk take a polished metal disk from inside his clothing and begin reflecting sunlight from it. After a few seconds, similar flashes were returned from a group of large boulders a quarter of a mile away.

  Hanik smiled and returned the disk to its hiding place. He moved a short distance away from the base of the ridge and saw Leahy still climbing. As he watched the black-clad figure ascend the slope, he took the cap off the water bottle and poured some of the liquid into a cupped hand. He splashed it into his face and rubbed it across his cheeks and forehead. The pointed teeth resembled tiny yellow fangs as a grin of ecstasy spread across his features. He was well satisfied with his performance as a humble fool and knew he would be suitably rewarded at the proper time. He continued to splash water into his face until the bottle was empty. When the last drops were gone, he carefully screwed the cap back on and secreted the container inside his robe. He knew it was foolish to waste the precious liquid, but he would soon have more. Refreshed, he sat down on a small boulder and waited for his master to arrive.

  Chapter 14

  When he reached the summit Leahy shaded his eyes and scanned the terrain. He could see for miles in every direction. Off to the west was the flat mountain, with an enormous stretch of wasteland between it and the hill where he stood. According to the information he had gleaned from Hanik during their journey, somewhere on its top lay the main camp of the Morruks. He strained his eyes for any sign of nearby activity, but no dust or movement disturbed the desolation. A sprinkling of low hills broke the horizon to the south, and northward the desert stretched away to infinity. It was what lay to the east that caused a sharp intake of breath. There, separated from him by only a few miles of open land, was the Nile!

  Leahy held his breath, mesmerized, as his eyes followed the mighty river's path across the desert. It twisted and turned like a great silver serpent lying across the brown earth. The water gleamed in the late afternoon sun, contrasting brightly against the land and sky. Green areas along the banks indicated lush vegetation, and he could see what looked like a small village or town nestled in one sharp bend. Several hundred acres of fertile land on each side of the water had been cultivated into plowed fields. Long rows of amber and green vegetation grew in neatly kept squares, each section the same precise distance from the next. The scene reminded him of American farmland he had seen so often from the air. The thought sent a stab of homesickness through him, and he took a deep breath to dispel it. He scanned the river in both directions, but as far as he could see the village and fields were the only signs of civilization.

  He mentally reviewed the briefing his team had held before the time jump. The site in the Valley of the Kings where the missing stellarite had come to earth indicated that soldiers of the pharaoh's personal guard had been present during the excavation. Therefore, the plan had been to commence the search for Edward in and around Thebes, the nearest Egyptian city and seat of the pharaoh. He did not know the direction to Thebes, but Hanik could doubtless provide the information. If he could not, he would obtain it from someone in the village.

  He spent another few minutes absorbing the magnificent vista then started back down the slope. As he neared the bottom he halted. Hanik was sitting on a boulder just beyond the base of the hill. When the Morruk saw him he jumped to his feet and stood staring at him. Something about the man's demeanor triggered a danger signal. Leahy’s eyes darted left and right, but he saw nothing to justify the feeling. He ran his fingers over the outline of the Beretta in his pocket. Every nerve in his body felt electrically charged as he continued to scan the area. Then, understanding seeped into him like water into cotton. Hanik himself was the source of the feeling! Instead of rushing forward and humbling himself as he had done so many times since their second encounter, he hung back as though waiting for something to happen. Leahy edged forward, but stopped at the top of the embankment. Hanik kept his position, shifting his feet nervously and rubbing his palms down the front of his robe. Leahy scrutinized him intently. The little rat looked like he was shaking in his sandals. Something was definitely wrong.

  Except for the slope on which Leahy stood, the ground was open for a hundred yards in every direction. There was no place from which an attack might be launched. Beyond the open space were a few large rock masses and shallow gullies that could be used as concealment, but the distance was too great for an assailant to reach him before he could bring the pistol to bear. He kept his eyes on Hanik and slid down the bank. When he reached the bottom he jumped to his feet, alert for any sign of danger from the direction of the rocks. Nothing moved; the air was deathly still. He glared at Hanik, w
ho remained motionless a few yards away. Even at that distance Leahy could see his hands trembling.

  "Come here!" he commanded the Morruk through clenched teeth.

  Hanik made no move to obey. Leahy's nervous system sent a jolt of adrenaline through him and he felt the muscles in his back tighten. With a slow, deliberate movement he took the pistol out of his pocket and leveled it at Hanik. The Morruk's eyes widened in terror.

  "I said come here!" Leahy hissed.

  Hanik remained frozen, his eyes riveted on the gun. Beads of sweat stood out on his brow and his head jerked convulsively, an involuntary movement born of total fear.

  Leahy edged toward him like a police officer approaching an armed suspect, weapon at high ready. He had taken only a few steps from the embankment when a hairy arm shot up from the ground and grabbed his ankle. He yelled in astonishment and tried to twist out of the powerful grip, but lost his balance and stumbled forward. He fought to keep his feet but another hand from beneath the ground closed around his other leg and jerked it from under him. A stab of pain shot through his left side as he hit the ground. He rolled onto his back and tried to pull his legs free, but they were pinned securely against the chests of men who had materialized from shallow trenches in which they had been buried. The earth around him was erupting with dirt-covered men. He swung the pistol up and tried to get off a shot at the man who held him, but a vicious kick sent it flying from his grasp.

  He looked up to see Hanik's grinning face. The Morruk jumped across him and ran after the weapon. Leahy saw him reach to pick it up, but lost sight of him as a sandaled foot crashed into the side of his head. Yellow light exploded behind his eyes as his brain slammed against the inside of his skull. He grunted in pain and bit the end of his tongue. Hands grabbed his arms and tried to pull them behind his back. He jerked his right arm free and struck out blindly. He was rewarded by the feel of bone crunching beneath his fist. He struck again, this time with the cutting edge of his hand. There was an agonized cry followed by a string of curses as the blow found someone's groin. Then, by the power of sheer numbers, they rolled him onto his stomach and pinned him down. One of them straddled him and bound his wrists with a cord. He felt it bite into his flesh as the knots were pulled tight. Someone else put a foot on the back of his neck and forced his face into the dirt as more cord was tied around his ankles. When he was securely bound, they dragged him a few feet away and dropped him face down in the dirt. A small puff of dust blew up from the ground as the breath was knocked out of him. His eyes and nose stung from the grit. He turned his head sideways, eyes closed. For a few seconds he lay still, resting, listening to the ringing in his ears. The cords around his wrists were cutting off the blood, causing his hands to tingle and swell. He strained against the bonds but the movement only caused them to cut deeper. Fortunately, they had tied his hands palms-out so the cords did not cross the large blood vessels on the backs of his wrists. He could feel some sensation in his fingertips, indicating that a small supply of blood was still reaching them.