Chapter Seven: Dreams and Mirages

It was the deep, melodious tolling of the bells in the nearby convent's bell tower that roused her from her sleep. She opened her eyes slowly, her mind still groggy and not completely out of the dream realm just yet. Usually, she was not like this, but she couldn't help it. Her dreams had been keeping her awake for the better part of the past few days.

She shook her head, pushing the dreams to the back of her mind. She did not like them one bit. She kept seeing sand, plenty of sand, and then a temple with an architectural style that she recognized as Egyptian. She also remembered seeing a very old woman, weighed down by gold jewelry studded with carnelian, lapis lazuli, and amber, taking out a beautiful sword from the grasp of a statue. And then, the final scene she saw was of a golden coffin, the gleam of the precious metal still visible even through the thick layer of dust covering it. She saw - or rather, felt - a rumble, and then the entire scene went black.

That was when she woke up.

"Erica, are you awake?"

Erica Ashlar snapped to attention, and breathed a soft sigh of relief. I'm awake, she reminded herself, before clearing her throat, and answering the question. "Yes Jessica, I'm awake."

From beyond the curtains of her four-poster bed, she heard the voice of her good friend Jessica Avery reply: "Oh, alright then. I was a little worried when I didn't see you get out." Her voice turned lighter. "You might want to hurry up and get dressed. If you don't, we might be late for breakfast, and you know how Sister Brigit hates latecomers."

Erica laughed softly, agreeing with Jessica. Sister Brigit was one of the crankier nuns who ran the boarding school she was staying at, and everyone knew that it was not wise to get on her bad side. Erica obeyed the rules, but there had been times when she had broken them in her own way, such as occasionally rallying her friends to explore the ruins of the old castle just up the hill, when they should have been elsewhere, such as in the study room or in their dormitories.

She had been caught once before, when she had sneaked out by herself one night, and Sister Brigit had threatened her with a letter to her older sister. But Erica knew she wouldn't get any reprisal from Catherine; after all, she knew all about Erica's little "expeditions," and by not scolding her for them, was actually encouraging her to continue them.

Erica smiled at that thought as she dressed herself for the morning. Sisters understood each other, and it was the same with adventurers.

She could hardly wait for the time when she could join her sister on one of her adventures. Catherine Ashlar lived an enviable life: going on expeditions around the world that could take years to complete, only to have pile upon pile of treasure and valuable artifacts shipped back home. She had braved the dangers posed by Nature and by humans, and always come out triumphant.

But for all of that, Erica never got to see her sister. Although there was always a steady stream of letters, postmarked from the most unusual corners of the world, they were but ghostly, insubstantial reminders of Catherine's existence. And while Erica did love and adore her older sister, she had to admit that it was rather unfair of Catherine not to come and visit her in person every now and then.

And yet, she supposed that it wasn't all that bad. At least Catherine actually wrote; her father didn't even bother to call, much less write.

Erica's memories of her father had always been vague and hazy. She didn't remember him as anything more than something peripheral, something at the edge of memory and sight; it was Catherine's warm and loving presence that filled most of her childhood memories. She knew that her mother had died giving birth to her - a memory that never failed to make Catherine misty-eyed - and Erica supposed that that was the reason why her father did not want to involve himself with taking care of her too much.

She was also aware that it was because of her that Catherine and their father had fought in the first place - a fight that led to Erica being packed off to boarding school and Catherine leaving, vowing never to set foot on English soil until their father's death; if she came home at any time before that, it would only be because some dire emergency had called her home.

She walked quickly down the steps of the dormitory, heading towards the hall where all the students ate their meals together. Breakfast was simple - bread, butter, and various kinds of marmalades, jams, comfits and preserves, accompanied by tea, water, or fruit juice to wash it all down. The nuns' home baked bread was always delicious, brought to their tables warm from the oven, and Erica never remembered having tasted anything as heavenly as the fruit preserves that the nuns made themselves.

She frowned slightly, a small sliver of memory coming back to haunt her. The nuns' food is good, but it's nothing next to Cathy's fruit tarts, she thought.

Catherine was not at all that skilled at cooking. She could make very simple dishes, things that could be cooked at a moment's notice, but failed miserably whenever she had to make something a bit fancier. The only "fancy" food item that she was able to make were fruit tarts, but she was incredibly skilled at making them. Erica remembered lazy summer afternoons spent picnicking in the woods just outside the manor that they called home, talking and laughing over cold fruit juice and various berry tarts.

While her friends were talking and eating their breakfast, Sister Emily started walking around, distributing the mail that had arrived that day for the girls.

Erica watched the red-cheeked, cheerful nun with anticipation, her melancholy thoughts turning towards a more pleasant subject. Catherine's letters usually came once a month, and it was just about that time when Erica received the letters from her sister.

Just as she had hoped, Sister Emily stopped by their table, and distributed the letters for the other girls first. She turned to Erica last, smiled, and handed her an envelope. "As always, your sister's letter, right on time."

Erica grinned as she accepted the letter, pressing it against her lap. "Thank you Sister Emily."

"You're welcome, child." And with that, she moved on, heading to a neighboring table to deliver another batch of envelopes to the girls who were seated there.

All the other girls leaned in towards her the moment Sister Emily had left. Everyone who had ever become friends with Erica knew of Catherine Ashlar's adventures and treasure hunts, so they were just as eager to hear about her exploits as Erica was.

Erica opened the envelope, pulled out the papers from inside, and read:

Veracruz, Mexico

Dearest Erica,

As you can probably tell from the heading that I have placed, I am still in Mexico, at the port in Veracruz. After this, Andrew and I will be on our way to Egypt.

Yes, Erica, we will be going off to Egypt. Do you remember my friend, Evelyn? I told you about her before, right? Well, at any rate, I am off to visit her in Egypt now. Perhaps, if I am lucky, I will be able to go on an expedition with her, and will be able to find something very interesting to send back to you.

There will be a package arriving for you soon, perhaps a few days after you receive this letter. Inside you will find a jade hummingbird. I found it in one of the ruined temples in the jungles. It's rather fragile, so I hope that you will take good care of it when it reaches you. Wear it as a brooch, if you'd like - I think that it would look rather marvelous that way.

Well, I have to end this here. Our ship bound for Egypt will set sail in an hour or so, and that is just enough time for me to post this. But I promise, when I am through with this, I am coming home, and picking you up so you can come with me before I set off on another expedition to Mexico. Yes, this time, you are coming with me. I realize that leaving you to waste away in a boarding school is not exactly the best idea, and I would rather have you with me than anywhere else. So wish me luck, and keep your fingers crossed, because soon, you'll be leaving England behind and coming with me.

And now I truly must end it here. Take care of yourself, and I love you.

Love and kisses,

Cathy

P.S. Oh, and if you ever wish to write back, send a letter to the address I have written on the back of this paper - it's the hotel where Andrew and I will be staying.

At that, her friends all began to giggle excitedly. Erica herself was stunned by the news, but she had to admit, it was a wonderful thing. She had always imagined what it would be like to be with Catherine on her expeditions, and soon she would be getting the chance to go with her.

"Oh, it sounds so exciting!" Tara McBride gushed, her face flushed at the prospect. "It must be so delightful to go with your sister, Erica! Imagine, wandering through the jungles, finding buried treasure..."

"But don't forget, it's dangerous out there, too," Angeline Illisson reminded them. "There are plenty of awful things in the jungle: spiders bigger than your hand, worms that crawl into your ear and eat your brains out while you sleep, snakes that could swallow you whole-"

Jessica shushed her. "Oh do be quiet, Angeline! The jungles might be dangerous but I am sure that Miss Catherine has faced those dangers, and more besides, and survived them all. And if she can do it, why not Erica here? They're sisters, after all, and we all know what sort of courage Erica has. She's as brave as her sister, and that is what truly counts."

Erica did not contribute further to the conversation. She folded the letter, and tucked it in a small pocket in the side of her skirt. She would write a letter after supper tonight, and then she would send it off tomorrow.

She considered telling her sister about the dreams she was having, but she shook her head, and thought better of it. After all, they were just dreams. They did not count for much, did they?

Catherine always knew that nights out in the desert could get quite cold. After all, she had traveled for a while through the Gobi Desert in Mongolia, and she knew the extremes of temperature that could occur in such barren wastelands.

But Egypt was different, and all thanks to the Nile. It was the Nile that made the area habitable, that allowed life to flourish here.

It was also because of the Nile that a great civilization had sprung up in the desert, a civilization whose wealth and power had attracted all kinds of people, from peaceful traders to powerful conquerors. For several thousand years the ancient Egyptians had lived, loved, and died in these deserts, creating wonders that few in the world could ever hope to imitate or exceed.

And in a few days' time, she would be exploring one of those wonders for herself.

She shivered in anticipation. The Temple of Hathor in Dendera was said to be one of the most beautiful in Egypt, suited to the goddess in whose name it had been erected. Certainly, it was not as large or as luxurious as some of the other, more famous ones, like Luxor or Karnak, but it had a beauty all its own - or at least, so Evie said, and Catherine trusted Evie's opinion. After all, she had been in Egypt for a greater majority of her life, and so she would know where the most interesting places were.

In the meantime, however, she enjoyed their little cruise down the Nile. She found pleasure in watching the small villages and hamlets slowly float by as the ship pushed further up the Nile and farther away from the Mediterranean, the lights of lamps and candles reflected in the onyx water of the river. Occasionally the stillness of the night would be broken by laughter, sometimes accompanied by an exotic melody played on flutes and tambourines that would curl around her sinuously, sensuously, and she would shut her eyes and surrender her mind to the music.

And then, it all rushed through her mind:

Sand, endless stretches of it, broken only when an immense monument suddenly loomed in front of her.

Dendera. It had to be Dendera. And it looked as it had in the olden days, when the worship of the old gods still existed: the grass had been tended to, and the flowerbeds looked fresh and pristine. Women in white robes - lower-ranked priestesses - scurried all around the place, seeing to their duties.

A statue, a statue of the goddess Hathor herself. Kneeling in front of it was an old woman, dressed in the full ceremonial garb of the High Priestess of Hathor. She seemed to bow, but then she touched something at the base of the statue. There was a rumbling sound, and a slab of granite at the base of the statue moved to the side, revealing a dark entryway, and stairs leading down in the shadows.

Hallways, many hallways, curving, twisting, turning into the bowels of the earth beneath the temple. She could smell death here, smell it in the unguents and the ointments that had been used in the embalming process when mummifying the priestesses who had served Hathor faithfully until they had died.

More hallways, more chambers, and then another statue loomed in front of her. It was a woman with a lioness' head - Sekhmet, goddess of destruction. In her hands she was grasped a sword - a fine weapon, the blade made of cold, glimmering steel, and the hilt and handle wrought of gold and studded with rubies, carnelian and amber. She watched as hands, old, gnarled, aged hands, reached out to grasp the sword, and draw it out of the statue's stony clasp.

And then there was a slow, cold fading, as if one were gradually passing into the shadows after a hot day in the sun. She felt herself slipping, yielding to the gentle, hypnotic tug upon her soul-

"Cathy?"

She gasped loudly, her eyes opening wide to let in the pure, diamond light of the stars as air flooded her lungs. She whirled around, confused. "What-"

Two hands, solid and reassuring, grasped her shoulders firmly. "Cathy, it's me, Andrew."

Catherine fixed her gaze on the source of the sound. The blur swam back into focus, and she found herself staring into Andrew's eyes, which were currently a shade of troubled jade. "Andrew! I- What-"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." His eyes narrowed slightly in scrutiny. "Are you alright, lass? You look pale."

Catherine nodded, rather shakily. The night was suddenly far colder than she remembered it to be. "Yes, I..." She paused, swallowing. "I'll be alright."

Andrew gave her a small smirk. "Normally, I would believe that, but not right now. What happened?"

"I saw-" She stopped. What had she seen? She could remember little snatches, could remember seeing a temple, and a statue, and a sword, but she could not put them together, could not link them together. She knew there was something that linked these three distinct ideas together, but she could not remember what it was, exactly.

She shook her head, and smiled sheepishly up at Andrew. "I'm sorry Andrew. It seems that my memory refuses to cooperate with me at the moment."

Andrew held her gaze for a while, and then nodded. "Alright. I understand." He turned her around, directing her back to the interior of the ship. "Come on, let's get you inside and out of this cold."