Get out your popcorn, tourists beware, here comes a paranormal adventure with a historical twist, set in Egypt--and Britain.
From Chapter 29 'Darkness': 'Did I just try to dive into that goo to get at a dead guy?' Trueth asked.
Define dead,' Me...
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Saqqara, the Al-Nour excavation, a few days before Trueth's visit... .
The sun grilled the grounds behind the step pyramid as Metjen Al-Nour slammed shut the door of his Jeep and strode towards the excavation site hidden in the pyramid's shadow. There, a team of archaeologists led by his father sifted the sands. They were searching for the grave of Imhotep like so many before them. Imhotep—Old Kingdom vizier, Pharaoh's architect, physician, high priest of Ra, and—after his death—god of healing, continued to be elusive. The aviators Metjen wore for protection kept slipping down his nose, so he ripped them off and clipped them to the rim of his t-shirt. As long as nobody spotted him, he was okay.
Metjen checked his watch. He was courting danger, but he should still make it to the temple in time. There was no way he could wait, he had to find out about more about his father's latest discovery before he went underground. Metjen raised his head, and his mood imploded.
'Of all the... .'
One of the tourists from his group had scratched personal feelings for the female of his choice into the stone wall ahead of him. The new inscription sat right above a similar expression a visitor from ancient Greece had left behind over two thousand years ago. Swearing with vehemence but low in volume, Metjen descended a set of stairs next to the despoiled wall. It led him towards the underground tunnel that connected the perimeter of the excavation with the courtyard the archaeologists had uncovered a while ago.
He bent under the lintel, went into the gloom, strode towards the rectangle of light on the other end—and slammed his toes into a rubble-filled bucket. As pain shot through his foot and heat flooded his chest, Metjen decided he had enough.
To heck with caution, he thought, massaging his foot. Carter, the youngest member of the excavation team always left stuff all over the place, he needed a lesson. Metjen scanned the courtyard. Carter was on his own, sifting through a heap of stones.
Good! Metjen focussed on his sun-flow, called up the burning stream of magical power—and mind-kicked the bucket. It lifted into the air, then clattered into the courtyard, spraying the student with dirt.
Before he emerged from the tunnel, Metjen slammed the aviators back on his nose, grinned at the spluttering Carter, and limped towards the other end of the courtyard. He found his father in front of a dilapidated stone wall, swearing and gesticulating with a trowel. His father faced an opening in the wall that had been filled in thousands of years ago. Usually, this tended to indicate a passage hidden behind, though the smooth grey surface of this fill looked unlike anything Metjen had ever seen in a dig. It had been the cause for many heated arguments among the archaeologists.
'Afternoon. How's it going?' Metjen said by way of greeting.
'It's not,' his father said. 'We've checked this stuff. It's not modern, even if it looks like concrete. Whatever we have here, it's packed solid in a way I've never found before. Ever. To get through will take ages... .' He scritched his trowel across the obstacle and threw it on the floor. 'And we still have no idea whether there's another corridor behind. I'll have to wait for ground radar to check this out.'
