Ok. So technically I shouldn't post this up as it totally goes against me and not wanting to post until I've finished some of my other stories. But I'm bored, and stuck on ideas for most of them, and this one already has a lot of chapters ready and is just taking up space on my discs and pc and is sitting there telling me to put it up and I can't ignore it much longer. So sue me. No… don't. I will reply to my reviews for this story and every other story, but I will as soon as I fix it so that it actually works, and doesn't crash my system every five minutes.
Summary: Our most favorite place in the whole world, Hamunaptra. A new evil will rise, possessing a powerful magic, could it be more powerful than Imhotep himself?
Disclaimer: I own known of the guys from the Mummy (unfortunately) I can only claim rule over the characters you don't recognize.
Princess of the Nile
Chapter 1: Lessons of the Library
The large library in London was quiet. As many libraries like it are at gone eleven at night. A pale, watery moon shone in through the windows of the main entrance, lighting up cold grey stone flooring, dark wooded walls and heavy doors, which were closed tight to keep out any drafts or riff-raff. Behind the closed doors the library was still, other than the occasional flick of candle as aged and wizened scholars wandered between the towering shelves of dusty, heavy books and documents, the only sounds the occasional slap of feet on the cold floor, the movement of a book or the sound of clothing moving.
In a dark corner, hidden from the rest of the library and the world by countless aged volumes and towering bookshelves, with only one single candle for lighting, a young woman sat at an elegant oak desk. Her light copper skin contrasted greatly against her light blonde hair, as well as the other occupants of the large library, and light blue eyes scanned the page of text she held in one slender hand. As she reached the end of the text, her lips pursed together and she frowned, before adding something to the piece of paper on the desk.
"Now that's interesting…" she said to herself in a whisper. A noise behind her made her turn her head slightly, and her eyes grew wide to see the large figure, hidden within shadow, behind her.
"Luzige!" she yelled, her voice echoing around the otherwise silent cavernous room. The figure moved one arm upwards, allowing it to enter the light. It was horrifically scarred from the wrist down, the remains of a tattoo barely visible against the dark scarring. In the hand was a large iron candlestick, and as the woman uttered the mans name, the candlestick was brought crashing down onto her head. She fell from the chair she had sat in to the floor. And the figure stepped over, into the light, revealing a beast of a man, tattoos covering one side of his face and the whole of his neck. His mouth was twisted up into a sneer and his eyes narrowed as he bent and lifted the woman easily, flinging her over one shoulder and walking off. All that was left was the page of text, which had fallen from the woman's hands, a pen that had rolled to the floor, the discarded candlestick and the paper the woman had written on. It was written in curly, scruffy writing, and impossible to be read by those who did not speak Arabic.