Egypt
June 30, 2002 B.C.E.
The heat and silence were like a weight pressing down in him. The wind was light and warm and brought no relief, only tossing the sand that stretched from horizon to horizon. The horse's hooves made a pleasant shifting noise in the sand as it walked, steady as its ancestors had been through the harsh terrain. Zane had begun to doze when movement on a dune caught his attention. As he neared, he realized that it was a jackal. The jackal stared at him until he began to mount the dune, then it disappeared down the other side. Zane had no doubt that it was a messenger from his god. He urged the horse up and over the dune and followed the jackal through the desert. An hour passed by, then two. Only the movement of the sun overhead and the digital watch he wore told Zane that any time had passed. The sand and the heat and the jackal ahead were unchanging.
Adeem had been following the American since the last town. He had glimpsed the smallest glint of gold from inside his bag when he had packed it on the horse. Adeem had no idea what the boy was up to, but he was sure the gold he was carrying was worth more than the trouble of following him through the desert. Now the American seemed to be following a jackal. He must be mad. The only thing that kept him from killing the boy now was the chance that he might lead him to more gold.
Far ahead of him, the jackal stopped. To the west, the sun was just touching the horizon. Nightfall was not far away. The jackal circled a few times, sniffed at the sand, and then began to dig. Zane dismounted and led his horse behind him as he approached the jackal. When he reached the shallow hole in the sand, the animal turned and ran off into the desert. Zane watched him go for a moment, but made no move to follow. This is where he was supposed to be. To one side he could see a large rock formation. Perhaps a long dead mountain range, or even a canyon. If it were a canyon, there might be a river flowing through it. The thought stirred a strong desire in Zane. Never in his life had he been so far from water. The sun began to sink below the horizon. The thought of spending the night in the desert made him suddenly nervous.
"Anubis?" he called out into the bleak landscape. "I don't see any oasis around here. Is it over there by that ridge? I think I'll just go over there now." He took one step away from the hole and a light but sudden breeze whipped up the sand around him. He felt the presence of his patron as strongly as he had ever felt it.
"Wait . . . and watch."
There was a moment of silence, and then a great rumbling began in the sand beneath Zane's feet. He had to struggle to keep the horse from bolting. A hundred feet in front of him, the top of a pyramid emerged and began to rise. Up and up, it seemed to rise forever. Then for more than a mile around, trees began to spring up. Soon the area was a dense as a jungle. Last of all, a row of jackal statues rose on either side of Zane so that when the earthquake finally stopped, he was standing on the avenue between them. The row of statues led straight to the entrance of the pyramid.
After a few more minutes, the horse settled and Zane stood looking around in amazement at Ahm Shere. His breathing was heavy and quick with exertion and fear and wonder. Not knowing what else to do, he dropped to his knees and bowed before the pyramid. Then he got to his feet and began walking toward the entrance.
Just outside the range of the trees, Adeem stood blinking and rubbing his eyes. Desert madness. Heat stroke. He kept thinking to himself. But he hadn't been out here even an entire day yet. He had been out in the desert much longer than this before, and he had never seen anything like this. Stories about djinn and magic treasure he had heard as a boy filled his mind. Surely none of them could be true, could they? Even though he was not a believer, Adeem made a prayer to Allah before urging his camel into the trees.
The sky was awash in twilight as Zane tied his horse to a small tree outside the pyramid. He sorted through his backpack and left behind anything he would not need while inside. When everything was in order, he turned on his high powered flashlight and walked toward the doorway. The pyramid practically hummed with power and made it hard to focus. Zane knew that his first task was to find the Book of the Dead and the key that would open both books. As soon as he had stepped over the threshold, he was bombarded by images of the past. The events that had taken place within these walls almost seventy years ago rushed through him. He had to lean against the doorframe to prevent himself from falling. But through the visions he could see where he needed to go. When the images subsided, he began to walk purposefully down the hall.
Inside the pyramid it was as silent as a tomb. Darkness closed in on all sides, and only the beam of the flashlight kept it at bay. Zane's footsteps echoed off the walls and ceiling, the noise seeming somehow profane, like shouting in church. The last time humans had entered here, they had been surging with emotions: fear, anger, love, hate, greed, hope, grief. The air itself felt heavy with the drama of the past. Zane passed by statues and paintings that had been seen only by a tiny handful of people, and likely would never be seen by anyone else. He wished that he could somehow take them with him, show the world their fine craftsmanship and beauty. He was sure that when he left here, the sand would swallow Ahm Shere once more, this time for good.
Ahead of him was a flight of stairs leading down. He descended, his mind returning to the events that had occurred here. They were familiar to him, the way scenes from a movie are familiar to one who has watched it many times. The room below him . . . something had happened here. When Zane was almost at the bottom, he realized that what he had thought were pillars were not pillars at all. They were statues. His heart skipped a beat. Standing before him were the most magnificent Anubis statues he had ever seen. A few seconds later, he remembered to breathe and took the last few steps to the bottom. Zane was now standing between the two statues. A rush of power whipped through him, like a wind without motion. The power was so great that he fell to his knees. As he knelt there he remembered: this was where Anubis had taken the power from Imhotep, forcing him to face the Scorpion King as a mortal. The wind subsided and Zane climbed shakily to his feet. He picked up his flashlight and moved on, deeper into the pyramid.
Carrying the torch he had fashioned out of a tree branch, Adeem walked through the dark pyramid. He kept a long distance between himself and the boy, hoping he would not see the light or hear him. The American moved like he knew the place. The things he had passed by so far must be worth a fortune. If the American was heading to where there was more . . . Adeem's head danced with visions of gold that would make Tutankhamon's tomb look like a piggybank. He came to a spilt in the hall and paused, listening for the footsteps that would show him the right way. He could hear sounds very softly off to his left. Turning, he continued walking down the hall, imagining all the things he would do with his new found wealth.
This room was certainly familiar. Zane could see the past events overlaying the physical room like a projection. Anck-su-namon was fighting with the English woman, their sais clashing together. Zane walked up close to them and watched his hand pass through Anck-su-namon. They were only memories being replayed, not even ghosts. There was a tug at Zane's arm, so strong he was startled and turned to see who it was. Though he could see no one, he knew it was Anubis. He had been with him since he had walked between the statues. "The Book." Anubis said. Zane nodded and moved through the room, the memories fading like mist around him. As soon as he stepped into the next room he knew the Book of the Dead was in here. The Book of Amon-Ra in his backpack tingled with energy: the books were calling each other. The power was calling to him as well. As if sleepwalking, he moved toward the stone slab where the black book laid, slowing stretching his hand out to touch it. When his skin at last contacted the ebony cover, he felt as if he had become part of a current between the books. They knew each other as two sides of a coin, as two halves long separated. "Take it." Anubis told him. Zane picked up the Book of the Dead and turned to make his way to the Scorpion King's chamber.