CHAPTER FOUR

A group of twelve men wearing dark blue robes surrounded the large altar stone, each placing what looked like a chunk of rock on top of the flat surface; their touch almost reverent.

They moved back a few steps, their heads bowed as a man wearing the same colour robes as them approached the head of the altar, his costume covered in intricate gold patterns that matched those of the dark turban he wore, signifying his status of head priest of the Ka-akhet cult. His face bore marks similar to those of Ardeth Bay, as did the other men in the dark chamber, and he carried an item of great importance in his arms.

Placing the parcel carefully on the floor in front of him he raised his hands up and uttered words of prayer before sweeping his arms dramatically over the altar. The men fell to their knees as their leader, Ankhef-Sem, opened the parcel and drew out the book of the dead, setting it with great ceremony in front of the twelve strange objects, proceeding to open the book with the large ornate 'key' that had once been found by Rick O'Connell at Hamunaptra. As the thick pages fell open a cold breeze rushed through the chamber, chilling the occupants with its otherworldly presence.

Ankhef-Sem was wholly unaffected by the strange breeze, having known the great power of the book he now gazed upon. He had waited many years for this day and now his destiny was upon him. The Med-jai had no power to stop what was to happen, he thought, especially not the 'great warrior' Ardeth Bay. He would rejoice greatly at that man's inevitable death; a death he would surely not even know was coming to him. Allowing himself a small, triumphant smile that briefly twisted his thin lips beneath his beard, he began to read from the book, his voice low and steady as he recited the words that would once more allow his master, Seth, the dark God of Chaos, to roam the world. Once the powerful one, Imhotep, was resurrected, the process would truly begin.

As he continued speaking his men began chanting, bowing rhythmically in a circle around the altar; an altar that was now shaking under some unholy influence. Ankhef-Sem's eyes widened as the misshapen pieces of mummified flesh on the stone slab began to move inexorably toward each other, small blue flashes shooting from them.

The twelve pieces slowly merged into the figure of a man, the broken ends fusing together to form a whole. At last, he thought, Imhotep was being reborn! He watched as his words continued to bring life to the decaying corpse, as the hollow ribcage began to move with its unnecessary breathing and the withered heart endeavoured to beat once more.

His chants grew in volume and fervour, reaching an almost hysterical pitch until finally, and with a deep rumbling of the earth beneath their feet, Imhotep arose; life suddenly restored to him. He leapt from the Altar, looking around at the men who were grovelling before him before confronting the man who had pulled him from his eternal unrest.

"You are of the Ka-akhet!" he spat out the words in his ancient tongue, his sightless eyes dangerous. "Why do you call me now?"

"It is time, my lord, to summon our great master," Ankhef-Sem replied in the same tongue.

"He is no master of mine!" he roared. "I have none!"

"But you shall have, my lord. The prophecy of the Akhet priests is about to be fulfilled and you must play your part in this, as it was written. To not do so would be most...unwise of you!"

Imhotep moved closer to the confident man. "Why do you speak this way to me, when I shall kill you for it? Do you not know who I am?"

"I know all too well, my lord."

"Yet you think to threaten me?" the decaying face moved into a hideous smile. "You are brave."

"I am only loyal, my lord Imhotep, to my one true master."

"If I am to do this I must regain my powers. I know of this prophecy, I know of the power I need to use."

"But my lord, the prophecy was only discovered many years after your death..." he began, confused.

"Yet I know of it, as I know of many things. Death is not oblivion for some of us. Perhaps you will find this out soon." He smiled again, savouring the brief fear he felt emanating from the man. "The chest?" he questioned.

Ankhef-Sem snapped his fingers and his men obediently carried the chest to the altar. Imhotep placed his hand over the intricately carved box that had once held five skilfully made canopic jars, running his fingers over the curse inscribed on the top. "Who is to open this?" he enquired, his head turning once more to the men who were now standing staring at him with awe.

Once again their leader snapped his fingers and called out. A group of his men came into the chamber, dragging three terrified locals with them. They screamed in horror as they laid eyes on the Mummy and tried desperately to get away, struggling in vain against the strong hold of the members of the Ka-akhet cult.

Ankhef-Sem smiled sympathetically at them, listening with pleasure to their urgent pleas. "You are greatly honoured to be in the presence of my lord Imhotep, high priest of Pharaoh Seti I. He has need of your...essence. However," he held his hand up, silencing the pleading. "There is one way in which to save yourselves, and one way alone. This chest here has the power to redeem you if you so wish it. All you have to do is lift the lid and you will have saved us all."

He sounded so sincere that the men, in their fear, didn't even question the fact that no one else had opened the chest. They rushed blindly toward it and scrabbled with the lid until it fell off and a cloud of dust rose from within its confines, obscuring their view of the hideous creature which, in their brief spurt of relief, they believed to have disappeared.

Their sense of ease only lasted until the dust had dispersed as the creature once again moved it's decaying features into a semblance of a smile and looked at them over the top of the chest, enjoying their feeble struggles against the inevitable. He reached one withered, rotten arm out and grasped one of the men around the neck, pulling him with an uncanny strength towards his face; a face whose mouth was slowly widening into an obscene, gaping maw. The man's screams became louder and more high pitched as he neared what was to become his fate, his struggles to no avail and his voice finally giving out as terror paralysed him, allowing Imhotep to effortlessly hold him off the floor while he drew the life giving fluids from his body.

The Ka-akhet members recoiled at the sight, watching with helpless fascination as the mummy's flesh began to fill out, to become living once more. The local man rapidly became a shell of leathery skin and brittle bones, his entire life essence having been drained by his captor.

Once he was finished, Imhotep dropped the remains of the man like so much rubbish, kicking aside the carcass and turning to his next victim. This time the occupants of the dark chamber didn't draw back so much, their eyes getting used to a monstrosity that should never have been seen as they observed him drain the next two unfortunate men.

Imhotep breathed in deeply as he dropped the last man, flexing his muscles. He looked down with his new eyes and briefly closed them, savouring the renewed power he felt coursing through him. Ankhef-Sem moved to stand in front of him, looking upon the face of the 'powerful one' whom he himself had brought back from the dead. He managed to stop himself taking an involuntary step back when Imhotep's eyes snapped open and fixed him with a stare that was ageless and resolutely evil, its terrible intensity making sweat trickle unseen down his back. But he would show no fear to this unholy creature, he determined, no weakness to something which would become so wholly unimportant in a matter of days. No, when Imhotep had served his purpose he would be returned to his grave and, as yet, he had no knowledge of this plan. He smiled mockingly at him, looking up confidently into the dark glittering eyes that had seen so many years, so many deaths.

Imhotep, in turn, gazed upon the strangely calm priest in front of him, his eyes narrowing as he weighed up the depth of the mans true fear. He allowed himself a brief smile. The fool thought that he was unaware of his deep seated terror, of his intention to kill him. But he could feel it as clearly as if the man was screaming it at him. He, too, could play this time honoured game. This Ka-akhet nonentity would come to know his own foolishness in good time and he would come to know it in great pain. So Imhotep indulged in an even wider smile and followed the man as he motioned them out of the chamber.

Ankhef-Sem led the way out into an equally shadowed corridor, dark despite the torches lining the walls, and Imhotep strolled casually after him, his eyes bored now as he looked at the labyrinth of tunnels that led off from this one. The blue robed man in front of him seemed to have no doubt of where he was heading as he led them easily this way and that until finally a patch of light fell upon sand covered steps in the distance.

We are beneath the sands? he thought to himself, unwilling to voice the question and satisfy the arrogance of the other man. He tried to puzzle out their location, knowing it was no longer Ahm Shere. His answer came as they emerged from the steps into bright, blinding sunlight.

He scanned the desert around him and the crumbling walls nearby, nodding knowingly. "Akhetaten." he stated the one word and Ankhef-Sem turned toward him, surprised.

"You recognise this place?"

He didn't answer, merely smiling grimly. "Seti attempted to rip this place apart. He almost succeeded, but he was unaware that there were worshipping places for your cult hidden beneath these sands...as was I."

"This is now Amarna, my lord, but I am sure you are already aware of that?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

"I am aware of this, Ankhef-Sem," he saw the flicker of surprise quickly hidden as the other man heard his own name issued from the lips of a man who could not possibly know it. "I am also aware that you believe yourself stronger than me, that you do not fear me. I shall not, at this time, disabuse you of this notion. But be warned, priest, for my patience has limits that are unknown to you."

Ankhef-Sem tried to measure the truth of this statement on the creatures face, but it was impossible to see beneath the calm countenance. He mentally shrugged off the feeling of someone clawing through his brain, seeking and finding his innermost fears. Imhotep was merely toying with him, he decided.

"We are to journey to Karnak, my lord, to begin the ceremony. As you see we have many camels on which to travel." He indicated the group of animals lounging on the sand, being held by more cult members.

"What of the hosts? Have you located them?"

"The hosts are already within Egypt. Even now they are at the temple site, unaware of the part which they must play. I believe you know of the people who are with them. A man and woman by the name of O'Connell?"

"Them! They are here? Truly?" His eyes sparkled with a mixture of anger and anticipation.

"Yes, my lord, they are here with the woman's brother. It also seems that O'Connell has a female relative, she who will be the key."

"This time I shall destroy them all," the bald man muttered absently.

"Except the girl, surely? She is needed."

"But not forever. O'Connell shall know the pain of losing one he holds dear, of losing them all, before he goes to his own death."

"Perhaps we should start off now, my lord?"

Imhotep merely nodded at the priest before turning and choosing a camel for himself, taking the finest beast and seating himself comfortably upon its back, holding on with an enviable grace as it stood up.

Ankhef-Sem was irritated to find himself rushing to climb onto his own camel's back, his eyes narrowing in anger as he saw the creature watching him with a smile on his supremely composed face. He barely managed to swallow down the fury he felt, disguising it in action by moving his camel into position in front of all the others, ready to lead the way to Karnak. "It will take us many days to get to the temple, my lord, and perhaps you will find the journey somewhat uncomfortable. I apologise for not having thought of this before, but for myself I am at ease on these animals. If you would prefer we can arrange for some carriers so you can relax?" He addressed the question over his shoulder, not wishing to look into those eyes again. He was doomed to disappointment, however, as Imhotep stopped next to him and pinned him with his steely gaze.

"I am content. I know of ways to bring Karnak closer to us, to make the journey pass by in a blink, but I think I shall enjoy a lengthy ride now that I am once more able to breathe. I shall lead, Ankhef-Sem, and you shall follow," he stated this in an almost flat monotone, his eyes glazing as he looked straight through the priest and urged his camel into movement, heading south along the wide river that flowed steadily to their right.

His smile never left his face as they moved along, his thoughts turning over in his mind the most imaginative way to make this priest die. Briefly the image of Ancksunamun appeared to him and his face hardened at the sight, much as he wished his heart would do. Despite her actions at Ahm Shere he still held feelings for her, a love that could never die, never be destroyed. This time, however, hatred was steadily growing alongside the love. It wasn't enough yet for him to see her as an enemy, but it was enough for him to thirst for a measure of vengeance. Perhaps he would yet resurrect her, he thought, and see how guilty she felt about leaving him to the underworld. They had ripped him to shreds after he had thrown himself into the clutching throng, pulling his body into twelve equal pieces. How the priest had found those pieces was a mystery to him, one of the few things he did not already know. No matter, he would do as his destiny predicted and then he would change his future. This time, he would not be destroyed.

They rode on under the burning sun, Imhotep pulling the black robes he had been given over his head for protection, never once glancing back to see if the cult members were following. It didn't matter, it was he who would perform the ceremony not the deluded priest behind him. If he goaded him further he may not live to see the ceremony take place at all.