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Chapter eleven
TORY
Ashiverwentthrough me as I stepped through the archway, and I ran my hands over my arms. I wasn’t cold, even with my thin, cotton shirt down here in the cooler temperatures. My impromptu sprint had taken care of that, but something sent chills down my spine. Welcoming a light source though, I moved farther into the huge room beyond, my mouth falling open in amazement.
The golden glow had come from oil lamps mounted on the walls of the chamber. They burned low and steady, casting a warm light over the chamber and its contents. Smooth flagstones covered the floor, and the walls were intricately engraved with thousands of hieroglyphics. Scenes of the cat-headed goddess dominated the walls, along with depictions of Ra and other gods, including those with heads of lions and crocodiles, and those with green and blue skin. The scenes had been beautifully painted, as had the columns that led straight through the large room to the huge stone sarcophagus at the far end.
I moved slowly through the columns, running my fingers gently over the paintings that were designed to make the columns look like reeds and water flowers of the Nile. On the other side of the columns stood an array of treasures. I moved between two of the columns, looking at beautiful bronze statues of cats that stood lined up against the wall. A stone lioness stood four feet high and wore a stunning beaded necklace. I reached out and ran my fingertips over the beads, marvelling at the detail. I could just imagine Professor Ayad’s face if she could see this place. Wesley’s too.
A small warmth stirred inside at the thought of Wesley. There was something utterly charming about him. He was sweet and slightly shy, and yet when he talked about his studies, his whole being lit up. If I’d met him at home, I might have been tempted once the whole Jasper thing blew over. Maybe I could convince him to come on sabbatical to the British Museum in the autumn... or maybe not. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted a new relationship yet, although after a year of being with a man who hardly dared kiss me, let alone anything else, I was craving physical touch and intimacy like crazy. I sighed and stroked my hand over the stone head, then I blinked and snatched my hand back, staring at the statue. For a moment, the stone had felt like fur, thick and soft under my hand.
I reached out tentatively and brushed my fingertips over the top of the statue. Stone. It was definitely stone. Granite by the looks of it. I shook my head. I really thought I was starting to go crazy. Dark shapes in the night. A cat leading me to places. Maybe I was losing it. I moved back towards the main section of the room and carried on down the chamber towards the huge stone sarcophagus that stood at the other end.
I approached it slowly, partly because, you know, it was a bit creepy to think that I was walking towards a dead body, and considering everything that had already happened this evening, I wasn’t exactly ruling out something jumping up out of the coffin and coming after me. Mainly, though, it was because even though I wasn’t in the temple itself, and it was probably many, many feet above my head, the place felt special, holy, and sacred, worthy of respect.
The person who would have been buried here was obviously important. The treasures they had been left to take to the afterlife with them—aside from the gold, silver, and jewels, which were stereotypical of treasure—were interesting to archaeologists, things that told of everyday life. There were clothes, sandals, small pots for makeup, huge pottery jars of what I would guess would be grain or maybe even flower oil, and figures of animals, cattle, and people. Egyptians believed those small, carved figurines would come to life and serve their master or mistress in the afterlife.
Goods were stored in a tomb because the person wanted to keep all their belongings, even in death. The ancient Egyptians believed that once a person died, their body had to be prepared properly for the afterlife. They would descend into the underworld and face many challenges before they reached the Hall of Two Truths where the goddess Maat would weigh their heart against a feather, and they would have to account for their deeds during their lifetime. If the heart weighed the same as a feather, they would get to pass on and live forever in the afterlife, along with family, friends, servants, and their belongings. If the soul was heavier than the feather, though, it would be given to the great demon Ammit who would devour it, and then they would cease to be for all time.
The person who was buried here would have needed to be someone of great importance to have so many belongings to take with them. Buried beneath the temple, I guessed it would have been a high priest or priestess who served the goddess for a long time.
I approached the stone dais on which the coffin sarcophagus lay. Around and behind the dais lay bundles of cloth, and as I got closer, I realised they were oddly shaped mummies. I couldn’t really tell what they were without unwrapping one, however, and there was no way I was doing that. If they were mummies, they definitely weren’t human, but the Egyptians did mummify animals too. I avoided them, concentrating instead on the sarcophagus. At either end stood two stone statues—one looking down at the sarcophagus, and the other looking away from it. Guardians of the person in death. I thought at first they were cats, but as I got closer, I realised they were actually lions, their manes sleek against their heads. Their faces were proud rather than ferocious. Cats were widely worshipped, lions more rarely so. I glanced back at the mummies that surrounded the dais and realised I could make out faces and details that had been drawn on the wrappings. Definitely cat-like, but considering their size, I realised these were more probably mummified lions. They were smaller than they would be in life, but still. My mind drifted back to a documentary I’d seen fairly recently about how they’d found lots of mummified animals at Saqqara, including lion cubs.
Seven shallow stone steps led up to the sarcophagus, and I hesitantly set foot on the first one. Around the sarcophagus were lit oil lamps, and I jerked backwards, staring at the lamps and then looking wildly around the room to see if there was someone messing with me. I was hoping there was, but there was nobody here. It was silent except for the crackle of flames. I looked back at the sarcophagus, now having no desire to approach it further. I’d seen way too many horror films.
I couldn’t really make out the engravings on the sarcophagus from where I was, but I could make out scenes featuring the cat-headed goddess Bastet, which added to my theory that this might be a high priest or priestess. As my eyes travelled down, I noticed that the middle stone step looked out of place. It seemed different, loose maybe, or a slightly different colour, but something about it caught my eye. I didn’t know what possessed me, but I knelt down and grabbed the edge of it in my hands, tilting it up. It lifted easily, to my amazement, and underneath was a space containing a shallow wooden box. I looked at it for a moment then picked it up, and an image flashed in my head of a memory that wasn’t mine.
I was standing in a room, not this one, but somewhere similar, with painted walls and a stone floor. There was a smiling man before me who knelt and handed the box to me. I was smiling back, and I looked down to meet dark eyes that regarded me with love and desire. I blinked, and I was back in the tomb again, alone, but the feeling of the man who knelt before me remained. I looked down at the box. It was dark wood inlaid with pearl, and I traced the design of the Eye of Ra, the ancient sun god.
I’d learned a lot about him during my studies. He travelled the skies during the day in a sacred boat towing the sun, bringing light and heat to the land of Egypt—or Kemet, as it was once known. At night, when the sun set, he sank into the underworld and travelled across the sands between sunset and sunrise. Each hour of his journey was protected by other gods, twelve during the day and twelve at night, who travelled with him to protect him and the sun from the ever-hungry Apophis, Ra’s immortal enemy who sought to devour the sun and cast darkness across the land of Egypt.
I sat down on the step and glanced around, but there was nothing, just the crackle of flames. No shadows, no footsteps. I was alone. And yet, I had a strange sensation I wasn’t, but not in a creepy way, just like there were people here, somewhere in the building in the tunnels, who should be no danger to me or quite the opposite—family or friends. I shook my head and looked down at the box.
I lifted the lid and set it aside. Inside was a piece of linen folded around something. I gently pulled the top layers away to find a stunning necklace made of turquoise, gold, and either ivory or bone beads, which created a white collar that would fit snugly around the neck then dip into a V. At the bottom hung a gold pendant that bore the Eye of Ra engraved deeply into it.
I tilted it, and it glinted in the firelight. I rubbed my fingers over it, feeling the grooves of the symbol, and suddenly heat flowed through me as though I was in the path of the sun itself. Fire burned through my veins, hot and fierce. It wasn’t painful, but an overwhelming heat that turned into emotion—wrath, fury, exhilaration, and desire—that twisted down inside and pooled in my belly. I snatched my fingers back, and the feeling faded. I stared down at the necklace, my thoughts whirling.
It looked strangely familiar, like many of the other things in the tomb. I must have seen it in a book, maybe a textbook during my studies or even at the British Museum or something similar. Maybe it looked like something that had been found in a different tomb and I was mixing them up. I closed my eyes and touched it again, feeling the eye under my fingertips and the painless burning begin again. I listened closer as noise surrounded me, and my eyes flew open. I was still in the same room, but it had changed.
The room was full of people. The paint wasn’t flaking or faded, and the floor wasn’t dusty but immaculate, swept clean and strewn with reeds, rushes, and flower petals. Figures in white robes and ornate jewellery filled the room. Some wore ornate dark wigs, while others had shaved heads with jewelled caps. Everyone was smiling and celebrating. There was laughter and banter. I could hear music coming from somewhere and the trickle of water from a fountain that I couldn’t see. Spices like cinnamon, star anise, cloves, and saffron drifted through the air, and I assumed they were from the incense that swelled up at certain points in the room, the smoke gathering around the tops of the columns.
A hand settled on my leg just above my knee, and I glanced to the side and the man who smiled down at me. He was one of several, and I looked about in disbelief. I was still sitting on the dais, but several people surrounded me now. I was leaning back against somebody, and I could feel his hard, toned chest against my back. Another one sat to the side with his head on my shoulder and his hand on my other leg. There were more behind me. A slightly younger man sat on the step at my feet, holding my hand and tracing the bones of my fingers with his fingertips, sending a thrill up my arm.
Somehow, I knew they were there for me, at my service. Their expressions weren’t ones of forced servitude, but love and desire. Love for them swelled in my chest, filling me as though I would burst, and I gasped under the intensity of it all. Then abruptly, the vision was gone and I sat alone in the dark. I stared down at the necklace, and without making a conscious decision or knowing what I was doing, I picked it up out of the box. I turned it and lifted it to my throat, reaching behind to tie the leather thongs together. The beads teased my skin, sliding over my collarbones, and flashes of visions came back to me. As I finished tying the knot, I went to lower my hands and drop the necklace into place.
A voice, full of panic and fear, called across a room. “Tory! No, stop!” But it was too late. The necklace fell into place, the Eye of Ra coming to rest directly above my heart, and the room began to spin faster and faster. I grabbed hold of my head, unable to bear it. The sensations left me sick and dizzy as images exploded through my mind. Places, people, sounds, sensations, and so many emotions all built to a point where I felt like I would surely explode. The room grew young and then began to age around me. I saw it being built and saw it expanding. The pillars grew up towards the ceiling. People hauled blocks of stone, and white robed figures came in and out bringing offerings. Cats of so many breeds and colours wandered between the pillars or slept on jewelled cushions around the dais. Some were tiny, and some were bigger than I could imagine. The people grew and changed. Sometimes the room was filled with people, but at other times, there were just one or two who knelt before the sarcophagus, praying in the silence.
Then the room was dark and shadowed, and there were figures rushing through the space, coming up between the pillars, shouting and yelling, as strange black shapes flooded through the archway at the other end. I heard the rattle on gunfire, and for a split second, my mind cleared enough for me to realise this was in the present, but then it all merged together in a rush of feeling and memory and chaos that sent my body and mind whirling beyond consciousness until the colours came together and I fell into the darkness, my body collapsing onto the stone steps.
As the sensations faded into blackness, I felt a pair of strong arms come around me, lifting me from the cold stone and pressing me against a warm body, then a familiar voice murmured into my ear.
“All is well, my queen. This will pass, and we will be here waiting. You are safe. You are loved...” Then that, too, faded away, and I drifted from consciousness.
