Trueth felt her legs kick the air as she dropped through a brackish void-and hit an obstacle face-on: A cold wall of sand molded its lethal weight around her body. She spluttered and clawed her way through the choking embrace of tiny grains trickling all around her, dust filling her nose and blocking her windpipe. A desperate push at the grit freed her hands, somebody grabbed them and pulled her upwards and out into the clear icy air of a desert morning.
Trueth leaned into Seisi's reassuring company, trying to catch her breath.
He guided her towards a craggy rock where she started retching sand from a throat that felt dryer than the bit of Sahara she just had snacked on. From the left, an amphora appeared under her nose; a cloth came from the right. She took both, swigged the peppermint water first, then wiped her chin. A swarthy hand clasped hers, as Seisi pulled her to his chest.
Only now did she realise how cold it was. How cold she was.
Peeping over Seisi's bare shoulders that were covered in goose bumps, she spotted the others huddled in a group next to the nearest boulder, seeking shelter from the icy blast that was cutting into her skin. Dust was covering everything and everybody, sand trickling from their sandals, their clothes, their hair. Pharaoh had taken off his headdress to pour out the dirt. The cover had protected his thick brown locks, which seemed to be the lad's most engaging feature.
Behind them, a vortex formed on the desert floor accompanied by a screeching blast that increased her shivers. One by one, the boxes popped out of the ground.
'Where's Metjen?' Trueth shouted into Seisi's ear. He was holding her so close; she could feel the heat of his sun-flow rising in his body, warming them both.
'He will follow, the circle has taken over the portal to send him on, I can sense it,' Seisi said displaying a calm she could not share.
A sound like fingernails raking across a board raised every single hair on her body. With a loud pop the ground spat out the object of her concern; Metjen careened through the air with milling limbs, until he crash-landed back on Earth. Behind him, the unquiet sands burped a final time, spat out a scroll and calmed down.
'You ok, bro?' Ranofer shouted from behind his rock shelter. 'I say, the exit was rather dramatic.' He was beating himself to keep warm. Linen robes had not been invented for arctic conditions.
'I must have aimed a bit low.' Metjen was stumbling to his feet, his breath clouding the air. 'We were not supposed to emerge underground. Sorry for that, folks.'
'We are not amused!' Pharaoh was trying to free his robe from the greyish dust but was not succeeding. 'We must have a handmaiden to clean this.'
'Not many maidens in this world, mate,' Ranofer said with obvious relish. 'You got to sort yourself out all on your own.'
A torn piece of black plastic floated past on the draft, pursued by a bleached page torn from a newspaper. Overhead, a plane thundered through skies criss-crossed with contrails left behind by the previous aircraft.
Metjen had done his job. They were home. As usual, not all was well. His majesty was craning his neck following the progress of the airplane and wondering what dire straits Horus might be in, given that He was making such noises. The professor took him aside and embarked on yet another lengthy explanation.
'Why is it so frigging cold here?' Trueth was standing on the tip of her toes, to get a better view without losing contact with that precious warm presence next to her. 'Isn't it supposed to be summer?'
'It was when we left,' Rani-Ra said through chattering teeth. 'Can we please get a move on, I'm freezing. Anybody seen the temple by the way? I thought this was where we were supposed to get out?'
Trueth examined rock formations that looked depressingly familiar. However, there was no entrance. No ladder. No underground shrine of Ra.
Instead, Pharaoh marched into her line of vision. 'We are most unhappy. You shall call on some servants so that we can be dressed as befits us and then we shall meet our new subordinates!'
'Not a good idea,' Ranofer placed himself in front of the boy king, topping him by half a head. 'Your Majesty doesn't rule this world. Egypt, eh-the modern version of Kemet is supposed to be a democracy. That's a joke, of course. In any case, there's no need for a second head of state.'
The boy-king deflated. 'What is democracy?'
'The people rule,' Metjen said impatiently. 'Only they don't, and that doesn't just apply to this country. As Iseret keeps telling me, we have no time for this now. So step back, I'll break the veil on the shrine, and then we can get out of this wind.'
He faced the cliffs, raised his hands over his head and his eyes to the heavens. In his billowing robes of canary yellow, bedecked as he was with the golden ornaments of his rank, Trueth's never-to-be lover looked like a cliché cast member in a silly sandal film. A very potent cast member, she thought as the illusion of solid ground dissipated, revealing an opening and a ladder.
'Stay!' Metjen's hand shot out in time to prevent Rani-Ra from charging down into the shrine. She bounced off an invisible wall instead. 'I don't think Nebmutef had already gone demon when he shut this place down. But we don't know what's in there, so I go ahead, capisce?'
The mafia don lingo did not sit well with his priestly attire. Which also got in the way as Metjen was wrestling with the ladder on his way down, puffing swear words into the frosty air. Eventually, he disappeared. For a moment, all was blessedly quiet.
'The scroll,' Seisi said.
Trueth reluctantly let go of her personal source of heat, traced her steps across a desert floor which had solidified again, and grabbed the missive from the mirror world.
A voice floated up from underground. Fortunately, it was one she knew. 'All safe here, no demons. Iseret and I have checked.'
Mother called down the ladder. 'Can you take care of these boxes, dear? We will need them.'
'I'm not your bloody luggage service,' the voice replied. Nevertheless, the crates zipped across and got sucked down the hole one after the other.
Mother nodded and climbed after them, followed by the twins, a protesting Pharaoh and a grinning professor.
'Your lips are turning blue,' Seisi said.
'If you tell me I need to be kissed to stop that from happening, I'll tread on your toes,' Trueth responded.
A strange expression flitted across Seisi's face. ' It would be-presumptuous of me, I suppose?'
'Yes, very. And nothing to do with rank. Now, let's find a less romantic but more practical way of keeping warm, shall we?'
Trueth climbed down into the temple's gloom.
She had forgotten how claustrophobic this sanctuary felt. The narrow entrance corridor, the low ceiling roughly hewn from rocks as if somebody had wanted to prepare a crude burial for the last of the ancient Egyptian deities. Not in the slightest did this place resemble the palatial houses of the gods she had known in the land of Kemet, nor was it related in any form to the chartered relics of Earth's history.
It simply was there, a stubborn little reminder of what this world was about to lose. Lose forever.
Magic.
Somebody, Iseret's spectre most likely, had lit the tapers in the walls. Trueth followed their wavering flicker, past the dark slits of the cells on both sides of the entrance corridor. Somewhere, from deep within the hidden shrine, drifted a fetid stench that overpowered the traces of incense and old charcoal carried on the draughts. Trueth shivered, the air was warmer down here but still felt stale and hostile.
She emerged into the ceremonial chamber and caught sight first of the murals, cracked and broken from Metjen and Iseret's last stand, then she spotted the others as well as their gear. Metjen's somber expression was out of character.
'Don't go into the penal chamber, any of you. They were in such a hurry; they left one of the old servants behind. He's lying on that plinth, not a pretty sight, but at least he's mummified enough. Seisi, I need you to join me in the rites to send him to the netherworld. Trueth, you know the store rooms. I'll leave Iseret with you, see if you can't find that headrest.'
With that and a swish of his robes, Metjen disappeared into the back corridor.
Seisi lingered behind. 'It will take us a couple of hours to send on the ba of that poor brother. If you are done, get changed, but don't leave without us. We will need a veil for the beginning of our journey.' He raised his chin in the direction of Pharao who had taken his seat on one of the stone benches running along one wall as if this were a Roman latrine, arms crossed in front of his chest, a mutinous expression on his face.
Rani-Ra started humming the tune of 'You're in the army now'.
'Your brother has a lot of responsibility these days. It's understandable if he's a bit short at times,' said mother, rummaging through the boxes. 'I will get your modern gear laid out, you all go and see whether you can find this seal. Might save us a lot of running around. Your Majesty, quite a few of those containers are yours. I'm not sure whether we need what's in them, let's find a nice galabiya for you, shall we?'
She turned her back on the king and started sifting through boxes once more, which prevented her from seeing the wrath slowly materialising on Pharaoh's face. The professor did and warningly waggled a finger before he too disappeared through the opening in the back. He must have a lot of faith in the discipline of his disciple, Trueth thought as she followed him.
If you liked this story, please leave me a vote or a comment. Or both XD. Wattpad writers write for feedback. We thrive on it! Thank you so much. If you REALLY liked it - maybe you can tell your friends about it?
====
The image is taken from DeviantArt, Frozen Desert by Bakisto. The chapter is dedicated to happygirl1 because she is still reading! XD