Lauren Haney: Place of Darkness

Or was Menna merely coming from an old cemetery located farther to the north? An innocent man going about his business.

Kaemwaset came up beside him and shaded his eyes with his hand. “If we can see him, he can see us. If he’s the malign spirit, he can’t help but know we’ve found his excavation.”

“Our timing couldn’t have been better,” Bak said, grimly satisfied.

“He must not have guessed you suspect him.”

“Senenmut is climbing the ramp to our sovereign’s temple,” Kasaya called from the base of the mound.

Hori came running out of the main court.

“I must go meet Menna.” Bak whistled to call Tracker, who came racing out of the hole. “You, Kasaya, must remain here and keep an eye on the cliff and Senenmut’s party.” To the priest, he said, “I’ll send men to help you and Hori keep the tomb safe. In the meantime, all of you must go to the front of the temple where you’ll be out of harm’s way in case of a rock slide. I’ll. .”

A low growl grabbed his attention. Tracker, standing beside Kaemwaset, was poised as if for flight, head raised, ears cocked. The hair rose on the back of his neck and he began to bark, loud and frantic. Bak heard a faint rumble from above that rapidly increased to a roar.

“The cliff!” he shouted. “Run! Now!”

Tracker bolted. Kaemwaset, by no means old but not young either and certainly not a man of action, hesitated. Bak slipped his arm around the priest’s lower back and half carried him down the mound. Hori was racing eastward along the terrace. The dog dashed past him, not stopping until he reached the front of the temple and certain safety. Kasaya, standing as if glued to the pavement, ignored an initial sprinkling of small rocks and dirt and held the mirror high, signaling.

Bak shoved Kaemwaset after Hori and glanced upward.

The cliff high above the temple looked as if it had blown apart. A thick, yellow dust billowed out from the boulders, stones, pebbles, and dirt racing down the vertical surface.

The roar was deafening.

“Kasaya!” Realizing the Medjay could not hear him, he grabbed an arm and pulled. “Come!” he shouted, leaning close. “You’ll be buried alive!”

Running sideways, signaling, the Medjay stared at the top of the cliff above Djeser Djeseru and shouted something.

The words were drowned by noise, but the excitement on his face directed Bak’s gaze toward the top of the cliff.

A flash of light gleamed from the cliff-top trail. The response from the sergeant in charge of ten royal guards who had hidden above the new temple earlier in the day. Bak saw no other sign of life. Were Pairi and Humay hidden somewhere up there, preparing to send rocks down on Djeser Djeseru as they had on the older temple? Or had the guards snared them before they could do more damage?

A heavier shower of rocks and dirt began to fall around and on them, pelting their heads and shoulders. One razor-sharp stone sliced down Bak’s back, drawing blood. He grabbed the mirror from Kasaya, taking away his purpose, and forced him to flee. They ran for their very lives along the edge of the terrace, where fewer broken stones lay to impede their escape. Their feet pounded unheard across the pavement, lost in the thunder of the rocks tumbling down the face of the cliff, buffeting the tower-like projections and the slope below, hurtling down upon the ruined temple and rolling among the fallen columns, architraves, and roof slabs through which Bak and his friends had so recently walked.

A boulder big enough to crush a man burst out of the dust cloud and rolled along the edge of the terrace, chasing them.

Stones of all sizes came with it, and sand and dirt. The cloud billowed up behind, consuming everything in its path. Bak muttered a quick prayer to the lord Amon and put on an additional burst of speed.

The boulder tumbled over the edge of the terrace and dropped into the sand below. Dust erupted around it, merg-ing with the larger cloud. The leading edge of the slide caught them and stones of all sizes came bouncing, hurtling, rolling around their legs and beneath their feet, threatening to topple them. The dust swallowed them, making their eyes burn, making them cough. Kasaya stumbled, fell. Bak grabbed an arm and tugged. The Medjay scrambled to his hands and knees, his feet, and they ran on. A stone struck Bak hard on the back, slamming him forward, knocking the breath from him. He sucked in the filthy air and ran on.

Suddenly the fall was behind them, the rocks losing their momentum. They slowed to a trot, looked at each other, exchanged relieved smiles. They were safe.

They walked on, legs wobbly, dust coating sweaty bodies, neither man speaking. Each thanking the gods that his life had been spared. By the time they reached Hori, Kaemwaset, and the dog, the worst of the slide was over. A few rocks and boulders dropped from above, bouncing down the vertical face and raising spurts of dust, but the deafening roar had diminished to a sporadic crack of smashing rocks, and the cloud was thinning over the temple, shredded by the light breeze.

From where they stood, they could not see the columned hall and colonnade court, but they could well imagine how the rear chambers had suffered. The northwest corner of the main court, where they had been standing when the slide began, was covered by dirt and rocks. The wall where Bak had found the shrines was buried. The robbers’ excavation had without a doubt been filled in.

An explosive crack sounded from somewhere deep within the temple. Stone grated against stone, a deep and heavy thud set loose rocks to rolling down the slope behind the building, a burst of dust rose above the columned hall.

Tracker whimpered. The four men looked at each other, their faces bleak. Another portion of the hall, or possibly the sanctuary, had fallen: a column or two, a few roof slabs.

Bak’s eyes darted toward the small figure standing on the hillside trail north of Djeser Djeseru. “Menna hasn’t moved from where he stood before the cliff fell. Would not an innocent man have hastened to our aid?” He gave him companions a grim smile. “I’m going after him. I see no further need for you to remain here. No man will rifle the tombs within this temple for a long time.”

Bak hurried ahead with Kasaya and Tracker, loping down the ramp the workmen used to haul stones scavenged from the old temple to the new, climbing the opposing ramp onto the terrace of Djeser Djeseru.

Amonked, walking faster than Bak had ever seen him, in-tercepted them near the white limestone statue of Maatkare Hatshepsut. “May the lord Amon be deluged with offerings!

You’re safe and well.” He clasped Bak’s shoulders. “When I saw the cliff face fall. .” He bit his lip, trying to contain his depth of feeling, and turned to the Medjay. “As for you, young man, standing as you did on the terrace, signaling with that mirror while stones fell around you. .” He patted Kasaya on the back, shook his head in amazement, patted again. “Words fail me.”

Bak was more pleased than he cared to admit with Amonked’s unusual show of affection. “Do you know what’s happening on the rim of the cliff, sir? Have the men up there caught anyone?”

“I know no more than you do.” Amonked cleared his throat, collecting himself. “We were climbing the ramp to Maatkare Hatshepsut’s temple when the cliff began to fall.

Someone-the lieutenant at the head of the special team of guards Maiherperi sent-shouted a warning.” Amonked’s smile held only a hint of humor. “You’ve never seen men run so fast, as if the rocks were falling on us instead of you.”

Bak imagined the scene and returned the smile. “When will Senenmut be leaving Djeser Djeseru?”