Chris Blake - Egyptian Curse

Tom slid his feet inside his slippers. “The only jewel I want,” he said, “is the sixth amulet, so I don’t have to share a bedroom with you any more, Your Royal Crustiness.”

Isis stood up and shuffled over to Tom’s desk, where his books were lined up. She pushed over a large history encyclopedia at one end and the rest of the books toppled over like dominos.

“Until you met me, Professor Smartypants, all you had for excitement were these dusty books,” she said. “I’ve shown you what it’s like to have some real adventures! You should be kissing my feet.”

Tom looked down at Isis’s flaky yellow toes. “Ugh. No thanks.”

“ You broke that statue in your dad’s museum,” she continued. “Me and Cleo had been quite happy there until you came along.”

Tom groaned. “No, you weren’t! And you’re the one who got into trouble with Anubis in the first place. You got yourself banished from the Afterlife until you can find all six amulets. So it’s your fault we’ve both had to risk life and limb—”

“ I haven’t risked my life. I’m already dead.Or hadn’t you noticed?” Isis pointed at her bandaged chest. “But the fact you’re still alive, despite facing up to Roman gladiators, medieval knights, raiding Vikings, Greek warriors and crazy pirates, is completely down to me!”

Cleo purred and stretched her legs stiffly.

“See!” Isis said. “Even Cleo agrees, don’t you, my fluffy love?”

Tom started putting his books back on the desk. He knew by now there was no point in arguing with Isis.

“Happy birthday, darling!” Mum said, sliding Tom’s breakfast on to the kitchen table and giving him a kiss.

Dad pushed his glasses up his nose. “I can’t believe you’re eleven! Seems like only yesterday you were in nappies.”

Isis giggled and Tom shot her a warning look.

Dad clapped Tom on the arm. “Ready for your presents?”

“You bet,” Tom said, shovelling a forkful of beans into his mouth and then tearing at the wrapping paper. He pulled out a chunky red-and-green jumper covered in … What is it covered in ? Tom thought, staring at the yellow markings on the chest.

“Are those supposed to be hieroglyphics?” Isis asked. She was sitting on the kitchen worktop, but Tom’s mum and dad couldn’t see or hear her.

“One arm’s shorter than the other,” Tom said.

“The jumper’s from Nan,” Mum explained, and then handed Tom another present. “From me,” she said, smiling.

Tom felt the package. It was square and hard. “Computer game?” he guessed correctly, unwrapping Timeline of Fire . “Yesssss!”

Then Dad plonked something large and heavy on the kitchen table. He cleared his throat. “And this is from me.”

Tom unwrapped the gift. “The Young Historian books box set!” Tom yelled. “Wicked! Look, it’s got an Aztec Empire special edition too.” He grinned at his parents. “Thanks, Mum and Dad, you’re the best!”

As Tom gobbled up his fried egg, Isis’s voice floated over the room.

“A computer game, some books and a knitted thing? What boring presents!”

Tom noticed that Isis’s shoulders were slumped. Perhaps she was feeling left out, especially if she’d never celebrated a birthday before. He quickly ate the rest of his breakfast. “Let’s go upstairs and try out my new game,” he whispered.

“Deal!” Isis said, smiling.

As they ran upstairs, Mum shouted out, “Don’t forget we’re leaving for the bowling alley at ten thirty!”

“Those shoes are ugly,” Isis said, pointing to the red, white and blue bowling shoes that Tom and his friends were putting on.

“Nobody’s asking you to wear them,” Tom said.

Mum and Dad were programming everybody’s names into the machine that kept score.

In the next lane, a tall man stood up to take his go. Tom watched as the ball thundered down the lane. There was a loud crash as it sent every single pin flying. The man jumped up and down and punched the air.

Isis gasped. “That’s not very sporting, is it?”

Tom started to laugh. “He got a strike,” he explained. “He’s happy because he knocked down all the pins. That’s the point of the game, you see? The more you knock down—”

“I bet I can do that!” Isis said.

Tom nervously glanced over at his friends. “No, Isis. Just watch. Please don’t try to join in—”

But Isis had already picked up a bowling ball and flung it down the lane.

“Woo-hoo!” she cried, as Cleo scampered after the ball.

Tom’s friends stared as, seemingly on its own, the ball rolled down the lane and knocked over all ten pins.

“That ball just bowled a strike by itself!” Veejay said, blinking in disbelief.

Tom gulped. “Someone must have dropped it.” To distract his friends he said, “Hey! Who wants some lemonade?”

Suddenly, Tom’s voice was drowned out by a loud, rumbling noise. At the end of the lane, the giant, jackal-headed god of the Underworld, Anubis, burst out, splintering the wood and sending the pins flying.

“Just when I was getting the hang of it!” Isis grumbled.

Anubis’s eyes glowed red. He folded his arms and bared his sharp teeth at Tom and Isis. “Are you ready to face your toughest challenge yet?” he boomed.

Tom looked at his school friends who were all sipping their lemonade. They had no idea the Ancient Egyptian god was there.

“Not really,” Tom said. “I’m in the middle of my birthday party.”

“SILENCE!” bellowed Anubis. “Your last challenge will be a real test of bravery. Fail, and Isis will never get into the Afterlife!”

Suddenly, a wind blew up round Tom, Isis and Cleo, pulling them out of the bowling alley and into the tunnels of time.

“Wheeeee!” Tom cried.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! The three travellers shot out of the time tunnels into hot, dry air and blinding sunlight. They landed on the dusty ground. Tom looked round and saw an enormous river, twisting like a dark green snake into the distance. Closer by, there was a grid of buildings with golden desert beyond.

Tom gazed up at scaffolding made from tree trunks. Men were scurrying up and down it, carrying stones. They seemed to be building some sort of temple.

“You know where we are, don’t you?” Isis said excitedly, gripping Tom’s arm. No longer a mummy, she had her body back again. Her kohl-lined eyes shone with glee.

“Not really,” Tom said, looking down at their white linen tunics.

Cleo purred loudly then stretched out her legs and licked her stripy fur. Isis scooped the cat into her arms.

“We’re home, Fluffpot!” she said. “I’d know that river anywhere. It’s the Nile!”

“Ancient Egypt?” Tom said, staring at the builders. They had the same dark skin as Isis. Some were bald, but others wore ponytails.

“Cool! Where’s your palace then?”

Isis shielded her eyes from the sun and peered round. “Good question. To be honest, I don’t recognise any of these buildings. There’s not a pyramid in sight.”

Tom called over to a worker, who was lifting a basket full of mud on to his broad shoulders. “Excuse me,” he said. “What city are we in?”

The worker frowned at him.