They made very few stops for the next two days of the journey, mainly to catch a few hours of sleep or to cook the day's food before the heat settled in. AJ would be the first to admit that it wasn't exactly a comfortable arrangement, but it was the only safe way to continue forwards to the fabled city of death. Just the thought of Hamunaptra made her stomach twist into knots, the dread never leaving her even as she dreamed.
"My breast it is as cold as clay, my breath is earthly strong," AJ sang quietly as they rode through the desert," and if you kiss my cold clay lips, your days they won't be long. How oft on yonder day, sweetheart, where we were wont to walk." She looks around her at the people in their company; a few diggers to do the hard work, the Egyptologist, her American family, and the idiot known as Beni. A large group by any means, but they would all be beneficial if this wasn't one big goose chase.
"Know anything that isn't sad," Daniels asks, earning a soft smile from AJ.
"Folk songs not to your liking, I take it?"
"Not that one anyway." It was an old song and she remembered her mother singing it on occasion when they lived in Yorkshire; it was a song about grief, learning that you had to move on for your loved ones to rest. Her father reacted much the same way as Daniels, but AJ sang it to her son every night to carry on the tradition and Lawrence didn't seem to mind it.
"The fairest flower that e'er I saw has withered to a stalk," she continues stubbornly, allowing her mare to wander closer to her husband's gelding. "When will we meet again, sweetheart? When will we meet again? When the autumn leaves that fall from the trees are green and spring up again."
"Anyone that said my wife wasn't stubborn was lying through their teeth," Lawrence states with a grin, reaching out to grasp AJ's hand in his larger one. His hands were as tan as the rest of him, though not quite as dark as AJ's skin, and they were always so gentle. She twines their fingers together, finding herself growing content on this vacation as long as he was by her side.
"That's right, honey." AJ's smile is wiped away when she notices something white poking out of the sand, bleached from the sunlight and standing out against the golden dunes. She wasn't sure what it was at first, but then she saw more of the white things, gleaming and horrifying.
Bones.
They were all over the place, whole arms resting on the surface as though the dead were trying to unbury themselves; grinning skulls with black holes for eyes staring endlessly up at the sun. "Allah," she breathes in disgust, squeezing her husband's hand tighter," what are we getting ourselves into?" The diggers seemed just as upset as herself, but everyone else tried their hardest to ignore the poor victims, horses' hooves grinding the brittle bones into dust. "We should go back. This is not a place for the living."
"It's alright," Burns assures her, bringing his horse up on the other side of AJ's," these people were probably those soldiers the Egyptologist told us about last night. Remember? A lot of them died and most were just left here because it was too expensive to bring 'em home." She shudders, not wanting to think of hundreds of bodies left to rot under the sun or of carrion birds picking the flesh from bone.
"This is not right." She says a quick prayer in Arabic, wishing for the souls of the deceased to find peace at last. No one deserved to suffer between worlds, especially not men who gave their lives so that others might have a better chance.
"Good morning, my friend," Beni calls out in greeting as they come around a corner, spotting the other group that was made up of AJ's friends, the uncouth American, and a rather smelly warden. The two groups stop closer together, AJ, Beni, and O'Connell staring ahead of them at more of the desert. The land in front of them was completely flat apart from a few dunes that had built up over the years, perfect for stone monuments to rest on.
"Anybody got a clue about why we're not moving anymore," Daniels asks, looking to his friends for an answer.
"The city can only be revealed by the sunrise, Dave," AJ replies, tightening her grip on her horse's reigns. "That's what the old papyrus my uncle deciphered said anyway."
"Nah, you got it right," O'Connell nods," it shows the way."
"Remember our bet," Lawrence calls to the other American," first one to the city gets five hundred bucks."
"What's your wifey gonna think of you when I take that five hundred bucks, Henderson?" AJ arches a brow in her husband's direction, Lawrence having the good sense to avoid eye contact at all costs. It was a smart move; she's found that a certain look causes him to take the trash out or even take their son to a playdate. Then again, the look she sent his way now was nothing short of I'll shave your head while you sleep. "Get ready for it."
The groups watched in tense silence, the sky above them slowly changing from the purple of twilight to vivid scarlets and pinks as the sun crests the horizon. Far in front of them a city begins to appear, wavering in the fragile light like a mirage about to disappear, but it stabilized as the sun rose higher in the sky. AJ stared at it in awe, remembering all of the stories her uncle told her as a child, how accurate his descriptions had been.
Her much-needed moment is broken by excited shouts and whoops, everyone around her urging their horses and camels forward in a mad dash to make it to Hamunaptra first. AJ was right behind them, urging her mare into a fast gallop and letting out a shout of her own. The adrenaline was pumping now and she felt her uncle would be proud of her for being part of the group of adventurers that found the city.
"I hope you're watching me, Uncle Alex," she murmurs, hunching forward in the saddle," because I'm finding you on the Last Day and I'll kick you if I find out you missed this."
The song AJ sings is called The Unquiet Grave—made during the 1400's—and I used the version sang on Penny Dreadful by Sarah Greene. The Last Day is when the earth will be destroyed and Allah will raise all people from the dead to be judged.
