Cursed Times - What Now?

Chapter 15 - Message From The Past

'What the hell has happened to this document?' Dad was swearing at the window.' Thrown on a bonfire? How on Earth am I supposed to unroll this thing outside a proper laboratory?'

Metjen's father swivelled around on his chair, his head soaked with sweat and the face an alarming shade of red. Ranofer was closest and father grabbed his arm with his gloved hands. His brother tried to escape, but there was no space, so his father kept shaking Ranofer's arm in agitation.

'What we are doing here is completely irresponsible!' He shouted.

Metjen checked the desk behind him. The scroll lay on a large mat, Dad must have been prodding it with an implement that suspiciously resembled a knitting needle. Sweat trickled down his temples. It was warm in the room—what was good for scrolls did not offer the best working conditions for humans.

'Take it easy,' Metjen said. 'Tell us what you found.'

Facing an audience, at least one he could relate to, tended to cool his father's temper, and this proved to be no exception. He released his younger son, grabbed the knitting needle and prodded the scroll instead.

'I wouldn't normally do this,' he said. 'But given that you were involved in illegal digs you don't leave me much choice.'

'We did not dig for this,' Rani-Ra pointed out. 'We found it by magic.'

Her father snarled at her. 'Spare me the details, at least for now. I want to carry out more examinations at the institute, don't ask me how I can make that happen. We need to be ultra careful, this document suffered a lot.'

'But is it authentic?' Metjen asked.

Prod, prod went the needle, a few minuscule flakes broke from one side but a part of the text unrolled.

'I think so,' his father said more calmly. 'It needs carbon dating, but from what I can see this is real. Doesn't get you off the hook, moving it around like that.' He used a second needle to spread out the text.

'The burned part I won't be able to touch. If we want to get at that, we should try an MRT, this has yielded excellent results in similar cases. There's a waiting list, of course. Let's test if there's more in the intact part. Metjen, a protective spell is appreciated—assuming there is something non-destructive in your repertoire?'

This was typical. When it suited him, his father would avail himself of the magical talents he otherwise spurned. He wanted answers, so Metjen wove his spell, bowed and stepped back as his father applied himself to the scroll with gusto. He unfurled more of the text, showing colours as fresh as if the scribe had just stepped away for a bowl of lentils. On the left edge of the sheet, the inscriptions got swallowed into a menacing strip of black.

'Mm.' His father once more waved for Metjen to join him at the desk.

'Read this, most of it is just one massive curse that describes in graphic details what's going to happen if you are handling this while you shouldn't. I've never seen such vocabulary. We must examine this together, maybe you can tell me—'

Metjen interrupted what was turning into a lecture on the fine art of ancient Egyptian cursing which Trueth visibly was not enjoying. 'Yes we will, these curses sound fascinating and I can only hope they don't apply to us. But isn't there anything else?'

'Well, what's there doesn't make much sense.' His father pointed at the text next to the blackened part of the scroll.

Metjen exchanged a glance and a quick grin with some of his fellow explorers—they could empathise with that sentiment. None of what was happening made any sense. From the expression on her face, Trueth was still conducting a mental search for possible curse antidotes.