𝒊𝒊𝒊. | THE CURSED LOVERS
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❝It is a wonderful subduer — this need of love, this hunger of the heart.❞
— George Eliot
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Even without a body, Imhotep was a force to be reckoned with. The spiritual energy he siphoned off of Amunet only amplified the abilities his cursed soul already possessed. The wind around him gusted violently, lifting waves of sand that swirled viciously around his phantom figure. While Imhotep remained untouched by his outburst of power, Amunet grimaced and tried in vain to shield her face from the grains of sand that struck her exposed flesh like tiny shards of glass, not even the cover of her gown with the added layer of her shawl protected her from the unintentional assault. As instant as a snap of the fingers, the sand storm stopped. Imhotep stood at the center of a small pit he created, his chest heaving.
Amunet wanted to console her friend, offer words of comfort, but she knew Imhotep would not listen — too lost in his fluctuating emotions. "You must know that I will try everything within my power to give you the freedom that you deserve." Yet still she tried, continuing to hold hope that Imhotep would let go of his burning hatred for the world he felt betrayed him. "You and I are one in the same, two sides of the same coin. Know that you are not alone."
Imhotep remained silent.
Despondent, Amunet released a small sigh.
Imhotep had such a strong presence that Amunet had completely forgotten that she did not come to Hamunaptra to simply visit an old friend, she had a purpose and a time limit. The City of the Dead would be the first place Ardeth would search for her once he discovered her to be missing. Disappointed with herself, Amunet had no one to blame but the lack of control she had over the Eye. She got too easily distracted.
Taking a firm grasp on the recollection that fluttered to the forefront of her mind, Amunet left Imhotep to his brooding and returned to her sand colored companion. There was bound to be some sort of bag or container in the saddle that she could use to carry what she needed. In one of the saddle's pouches, Amunet found a few medium sized sacs that contained some type of grain.
Seeing as how there was more than one sac containing the same contents, Amunet dumped the grain of one of the sacs onto the ground. Almost instantly did Amunet's camel friend begin nibbling at the thoughtlessly discarded grain.
"Oh, I did not know!" Amunet profusely apologized, deeply regretting her careless action. "Are these bags your food?"
Although the camel did not answer (nor did she break from eating), Amunet made a promise to be less careless with the remaining bags of grain. Oh, I'm getting distracted again. Amunet frowned, halting in her apologetic petting of the sand colored camel.
Greatly displeased that she kept getting side-tracked, Amunet huffed prudently. This was why she needed Ardeth by her side, he never got distracted.
Empty sac in hand, Amunet determinedly stormed through Hamunaptra, purposely ignoring Imhotep when he tried to regain her attention.
Do to the lack of standing structures, most people would be disillusioned by Hamunaptra's current state. How could a few standing limestone arches and obelisks defaced by time be said to hold the wealth of Egypt? Answer was: the desert had tried to reclaim the cursed grounds in a natural effort to erase the evil which lies underneath. However, in its vain attempt, beneath the mounds of sand the City of the Dead still stood in near perfect condition.
Imhotep hovered behind Amunet like a suffocating shadow, not questioning her odd behavior and actions. His dark presence behind her made the hairs at the back of her neck rise on end, a static like charge prickling against the surface of her skin; a sensation she had forced herself to get accustomed to for the sake of their friendship. He was a cursed soul, and the Eye was reminding her of it.
However, Amunet knew the truth. She had seen firsthand what had happened on that tragic night… when Anck-su-namun and Imhotep slayed Pharaoh Seti in cold blood. A memory that Imhotep was haunted to re-live during his purgatory.
Love had a strong effect on people. Back during his time of living, Imhotep was considered a God, second to that of Pharaoh Seti, himself. As High Priest he was the Keeper of the Dead, while Pharaoh Seti ruled over the living. Unfortunately, Imhotep's position came with expectations (just like Amunet). His sole purpose in life was to guide the souls of the departed into the underworld, to serve the God of the Afterlife, Osiris, and while he was treated like a God he did not receive some of the same luxuries Pharaoh Seti was entitled to. Unlike Seti, Imhotep was not allowed to marry, his love and life was to be given to Osiris, and Osiris alone. A mistress he could have for the pleasures of the flesh, but never a wife. So when Anck-su-namun, the Pharaoh's favorite mistress, turned to him for affection after suffering the Pharaoh's constant neglect, Imhotep's heart was stolen.
Together, Imhotep and Anck-su-namun no longer suffered the agony that was loneliness, and had developed a love that could rival all others. While multiple partners in a relationship were common in their time, they desired no one else.
Anck-su-namun had no say on becoming the Pharaoh's mistress, according to Imhotep. After discovering her unmatched beauty, the Pharaoh had demanded for her body to be his, and the young Egyptian woman had no choice but to obey or be slain for going against their ruler's command. Even after becoming Pharaoh Seti's favorite mistress by using her wits and charm, Anck-su-namun was often forgotten and pushed to the sidelines for his 'real' love, his daughter and only child, Nefertiti.
At first, Anck-su-namun was working toward becoming the Pharah's new wife after the 'unexpected' passing of Nefertiti's mother, however the Pharaoh never seemed to even consider the thought of remarrying. When he had made the official announcement that Nefertiti was to be his sole heir, and thus the first female Pharaoh in Egypt, Anck-su-namun came to the realization that she was nothing but a bed warmer to the man she had given her everything to.
Although understanding Anck-su-namun's hatred for the Pharaoh, to Imhotep he was a friend. Imhotep attempted to console his lover, soothe her hatred, while trying to think of ways for the Pharaoh to release his hold on Anck-su-namun so that they could finally be together without sin. Unfortunately, Pharaoh Seti's suspicion of Anck-su-namun's unfaithfulness only seemed to amplify his possession of her. He had went through extreme lengths to catch her in the act of betraying him, and when that fateful night came and he had barged into her private room… Anck-su-namun snapped.
"So the rumors were true," Seti sneered.
"My love?" Anck-su-namun attempted to play coy, gazing up at her longtime lover with a sensuous smile that had won her the title of 'favorite' along with so many riches.
"Who has touched you?" the godly Pharaoh asked. Then he demanded, his fists clenched in anger: "What man has dared to touch you?"
Stepping from the shadows of the balcony behind the Pharaoh, Imhotep answered Seti's question by reaching around and withdrawing the Pharaoh's heavy sword from its scabbard. Spinning, his sheer golden cloak trying to catch up with him, Seti faced his own raised weapon in unexpected hands. The ruler's dark eyes widened in shock.
"Imhotep? My priest…" Seti's eyes then narrowed in contempt. "...My friend…"
Those words froze Imhotep, momentarily, the weapon weighing heavy in his clammy grasp. This was not how the High Priest wanted his love for Anck-su-namun to be revealed. He had wanted to show his friend that their love was pure, and that they were destined to be together.
However, in the back of the Pharaoh, her eyes and nostrils flaring, Anck-su-namun raised a gleaming dagger, and her small hand with the big knife came swiftly down. No one was allowed to take Imhotep away from her, not even the Pharaoh himself. ¹
Descendants of the Medjai who had sworn to protect the Pharaohs of Egypt, Amunet's people spoke of Imhotep and thought him to be a monster, a vile beast. Centuries of prejudice were passed down through the generations based off upbringing and storytelling when they truly knew nothing but speculation. Despite her title of Jewel of the Nile, Keeper of the All Seeing Eye of Horus, trying to erase centuries of bigotry was futile. That was why Amunet had taken it upon herself to try and find a way to free Imhotep, to give him the happy ending he deserved… which resulted in her discovering the prophecy.
Amunet's heart was torn. In finding the savior, Imhotep would finally be resurrected, yet in finding the savior, Imhotep could, also, be slain — for good. The prophecy could be fulfilled in many ways, the bad overpowering the good, but if there was even a slim chance for a happy ending she would try everything within her power to achieve that end.
There were many ways to enter Hamunaptra's ruins, but there was only one way to enter the vaults safely and without harm from the skillfully hidden traps. Amunet strode up to a seemingly inconspicuous statue of Horus that stood, tilted, in front of a sunken stone structure. Though crumbling at the face and body, the proud statue of a man with the head of falcon held a golden staff in his grasp and his other was extended as if to accept an offering. Amunet reached out and ran her fingers along the grainy texture of the statue's open palm, toward the center she applied pressure and felt a distinct dip.
Amunet was supposed to leave an offering on Horus's palm in order to pass, but seeing as how she already dedicated her entire life to the God, she figured he would let her go by unpunished.
A section of the limestone wall behind the statue of Horus slid open, a wave of sand spilling across the open space from being disturbed. Imhotep had shown her this path during one of her visits, wanting to test if she held a heart of greed.
The cramped corridor was dark enough as is, the only source of light coming from the dim moonlight pouring in from the open doorway behind her, but when she stepped into the corridor the slab of limestone slid closed behind her, enveloping her in pitch darkness.
"Beside you," Imhotep murmured.
Amunet had to extend her hands out before her, blindly groping at the area surrounding her. She didn't want to give up her body to the Eye, again, so she had to rely on her sense of touch to guide her in the right direction. The tips of her fingers swiped across a thin cylinder object, and after hearing Imhotep's hum of approval she fully grasped the item.
"Why are you going to the vaults?" he inquired.
Amunet continued in her task of creating a source of light, blindly feeling around for the oil container that usually was set beneath the wooden torch she had first discovered. "To pay for my journey," she answered. "I need to find those who will come to resurrect you."
"The greed of man is great," Imhotep wisely advised. "You will need more than jewels and gold to convince them to come."
"Is my word not enough?" Amunet found the oil container, and she set the torch down in close proximity so that she could carefully open the frigaile lid.
"From that of a woman?"
Amunet knew that Imhotep meant no offence, but his casual remark made her frown. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Unless tradition has changed from when I breathed life, but the word of a woman means very little to most men," he elaborated.
"But I am Jewel of the Nile. They must consider my words, do they not?" she wondered, a furrow in her brow.
"Does everyone know of you? Are you not meant to be hidden from sight so that the greed of man does not taint you?" Imhotep countered.
He was right.
"Then how do I convince them to come?" Amunet asked.
"By giving them proof that this place still stands. I know of a map who will lead any who seek Hamunaptra's wealth straight to the vaults, the same path I have shown you," he answered.
Intrigued, Amunet perked her head to peer up at Imhotep's phantom figure. "Where is it?"
"First light your way. I do not want you to unintentionally injure yourself in the dark," he commanded, tone gentle with a tinge of affection.
Amunet nodded, focusing on the task of lighting the torch. She never had to make a fire before, but Imhotep had taught her how to strike two stones together in order to create a spark that would ignite the oil. It was a long and difficult endeavour since Amunet kept fumbling or accidentally hitting her fingers, but Imhotep showed no signs of being impatient toward her.
The soft orange glow of a fire instantly illuminated the area surrounding Amunet as flame finally caught to the oil dipped torch. Grasping the wooden handle of her source of light, Amunet continued down the cramped corridor. Her bare feet padded gently against the grainy stone beneath her, sand seeping in through various cracks in the walls and ceiling.
Imhotep dissipated from behind her in a swirl of black smoke, reappearing in the same fashion at the end of the hall, guiding her. His excitement was clear in his energy, almost bringing a fond smile to Amunet's face.
Dead silence filled the air, and if Amunet had not grown used to such quietness she would have felt unsettled. If anything, she was more sympathetic for Imhotep because he had to suffer such silence all on his own, not even the chattering of his flesh eating scarab beetles could pierce through the stillness.
When reaching the vault, Amunet did not feel the need to stop and marvel at the vast size and quantity of riches. While she had only been there once before, matters of wealth was of no significance to her. Besides, most of the vault was hidden to the shadows thanks to the limited range of light from her torch, anyway.
Imhotep, meanwhile, made sure that he was always within sight. He strolled in front of Amunet, effortlessly peering out into the darkness as he guided her through the narrow paths that were lined with mounds of glittering gold and other treasures. "Here," he announced, stopping before a medium sized solid gold treasure chest.
Amunet knelt before the treasure box, testing the strength of one arm as she pushed against the heavy lid so that she could still carry her primary source of light. She managed to make a wide enough gap to where she could see the inside of the chest. Numerous gold coins stamped with Pharaoh Seti's official seal glinted underneath the glow of her fire, and at the center of the pile was an octagon shaped black box that appeared to be about the same size of her palm.
Figuring that the map lied within the newest discovery, Amunet plucked the small item for a closer inspection. The sides contained ancient egyptian hieroglyphic inscriptions which warned the carrier about the contents within. "To those who solve this puzzle, be warned: should you seek and find what lies inside — comes with a price," she read aloud.
"Promise me that you will use caution on your journey," Imhotep spoke from beside her, recapturing Amunet's attention. "While I long for my freedom, I do not want to achieve it at the expense of your death. You are sacrificing enough to aid in resurrecting me."
"...Nettie…" The savior's voice whispered in Amunet's thoughts, echoing her name. A stab of guilt pierced through her chest, creating a sensation that felt like her heart was being squeezed inside of her. She clutched the black box in her hand, the sharp edges digging into her flesh. The physical sensation of pain helped to regain Amunet's senses, her guilt washing away.
"I promise," she responded.
Imhotep then motioned to the coins that lie within the chest. "Fill your sac to the brim, then find another. Greed takes hold of all man."
To Imhotep, he and Amunet were not within the same category of 'man'. They were gods embodied to appear like man, but they were their betters in every way imaginable.
Amunet tucked the black box into the pocket of her gown, retrieving the sac that she had earlier placed in the same pocket. She leaned her torch against the treasure chest, and then began grabbing fist fulls of gold coins to dump into her camel friend's common food bag.
"...Nettie…" The savior's voice whispered to Amunet's thoughts, again, but oddly it did not stop like it had done before. Instead, the call of her name was gradually growing louder and more frequent, to the point where she could almost physically hear it.
A sudden tingle sent a violent shiver down Amunet's spine. "Someone is here," she declared, swiftly lifting her gaze to the vault's high ceiling.
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Reviews, comments, and criticism are always welcomed; flames—tolerated.
¹ Excerpt taken from The Mummy novelisation, written by Max Allan Collins, with a few changes.