The curse of Kalaan (3 page)

“Or a great curse,” added Salam, under his breath gloomier than ever. “This is not a tomb,” he insisted, as he already had numerous times, since they discovered the site the previous day. “No pharaoh, queen, prince, or high dignitary rests here.”

Champollion began trembling uncontrollably. The Tuareg’s alarming words echoed the horrible feeling that had suddenly come over him.

“Jean-François is here to either prove or contradict what you are saying,” Kalaan muttered, knitting his brow. “Why place such a building so far from Tell el-Amarna?” he added thoughtfully, as if to himself.

“So men wilna come stomping ‘round the place,” Lil’ Louis muttered nervously. “Will we g’back to the boat now, lad?”

“No!” exclaimed Kalaan, stubbornly.

“This edifice is here to protect living creatures from whatever it contains,”Salam replied sharply.

Kalaan shot a heavy look at his Tuareg friend and turned to look at Jean-François, before speaking again.

“My dear friend, you are the only one who can tell us the truth. Can you translate the hieroglyphs on the door, as they hold the answers to our questions? Thanks to your studies and catalogues, I can manage somewhat; however, I am just a beginner. Will you do it for us?”

The Egyptologist only hesitated a moment. He had to admit that although his feeling of foreboding was strong, he felt the same exhilarating curiosity as Kalaan and wanted to see this new adventure through to the very end, despite all the possible dangers.

“I’m bursting with impatience,” he responded in a loud, yet trembling, voice. “Let us go!”

“The Lord ‘ave pity on us,” Lil’ Louis mumbled, before tumbling down the slope leading to the mysterious mausoleum on his buttocks.

Chapter 2

The mysterious edifice

            
 
A
s the awkward Lil’ Louis descended the dune on his rear end, the sand began, once again, to produce the startling sounds they call the ‘song of the dunes’ and the song continued as his three more dignified companions went dashing down after him on their feet.

A few moments later they were standing at the entrance of the astonishing construction while the count of Croz’s men followed close behind. Among the thirty odd men were some local workmen, but also sailors and Kalaan’s traveling companions. Everything about them showed how frightening they found this discovery. The anguish in their eyes spoke louder than words.

What the devil! This isn’t the first time they’ve found themselves in front of a tomb!
Kalaan thought gloomily.

“We mustn’t remain here,” grumbled Salam.

Meanwhile Jean-François went up to the hieroglyphs covering the wall that served as a door. Kalaan didn’t bother wasting his breath yet again by replying to his stubborn friend. He crossed his arms over his powerful chest and waited to hear what Champollion would reveal to them.

“These inscriptions are magnificent!” exclaimed the scholar. “Pure hieroglyphs, so many figurative symbols and cartouches... all in such perfect condition. I could swear they were only just carved yesterday! I’ll get started immediately on the translation!”

He started moving back and forth from one point to another almost bouncing with excitement and every time he stopped, he would loudly exclaim ‘I’ve got it!’ before scribbling something in his notebook. It was as if Champollion had, all of a sudden, completely shut out the rest of the world.

“You’ve got what?” Kalaan couldn’t help but ask after sighing heavily. He had been watching his companion’s odd little dance for at least twenty minutes.

“It’s fascinating...” he gasped without stopping what he was doing.

“Ye know what’s fascinatin’? We’re all goin’ te be roasted like pigs on a spit. There’s already a smell o’ burnin’,” muttered Lil’ Louis wiping his damp red face for the hundredth time.

“Return to the boat!” Kalaan was more concerned for the older man than annoyed.

He was clearly worried for his old friend who stood up with difficulty after sitting a few minutes on the sand, when Champollion exclaimed,
“That’s it, I’ve translated the most important parts and I still can’t believe my eyes!”

He nervously went up to Kalaan.

“This name, Imhotep, I saw it at Saqqara where the step pyramid is! But I also noticed it while I was studying the royal collection in Turin. He is described as some sort of healing god, ‘son of Ptah’, doctor, grand vizier, scribe, architect and magician. It is difficult to know if he was a man or a real divinity. I hope to learn more in continuing my journey. However, my dear Kalaan, the best is yet to come!”

Jean-François was positively beaming at the count. Not able to resist anymore, Kalaan had to ask,

“What is left to come?”

“Akhenaten!” exclaimed a very excited Champollion. “He is mentioned here, on this very door! And it is not a woman, as we presumed, but a man, a pharaoh! Listen. It is written that in this place, so that the reign of the pharaoh Akhenaten may pass in peace, a magic ritual was practiced, according to the sacred dictates of Imhotep. Wait. I must read this again!” and Champollion, returned grumbling to study the inscriptions.

“Ancestral charms!” Salam was not pleased. “I warned you that this had nothing of a tomb. We must go no further. The magic of the ancient ones is feared and respected, for it is all powerful.”

“Ye hear dat lad? Let’s return!” added Lil’ Louis as he started turning to leave.

“No!” responded Kalaan, harshly. “Something is pushing me forward. I don’t know how to explain it. I simply must enter this mausoleum, tomb, crypt, whatever it is, I must enter!”

“There,” said Jean-François, completely indifferent to the growing tension in the group, so absorbed he was by his deciphering and the sheer scale of what he was discovering. “It is written, ‘Imhotep stands guard here, all the Pharaoh’s fears, concealed or retained
(I can’t quite understand this means here, on to the next one
) by the magic stone will be to bring purity to Aton and the eternal prosperity of the people of Egypt.’”

“So, this Imhotep, if he’s revealed to be human, would he be buried here?” Kalaan made no effort to hide his interest.

“No,” Champollion replied as he turned back to his work with the inscriptions. “It is more about using his science through magical formulas and especially a stone, to free the pharaoh Akhenaten of all his fears and — here I’ve only partially translated — a curse. It’s hardly surprising; apparently it was customary to warn tomb robbers that they would be cursed if they crossed the threshold of any sacred or royal structures. Perhaps it would be more prudent to...” Jean-François suddenly added as he slowly backed away. In a split second his attitude had completely changed from pure joy to obvious apprehension.

What? Now he’s shirking as well? Kalaan could not control his surge of anger come from only lord knows where; at that moment he was acting like a man possessed.

“Curses are only for cowards who have nothing in their trousers!” he said, squaring his shoulders. “In that aspect, Mother Nature was very generous with me, and, as I certainly would not want to offend her, I owe it to myself to pay no heed to your warnings and pass through that damned door!”

“Oh, mis’ry,” Lil’ Louis sighed, covering his eyes with his hand. “The impetuous brat has returned... What we ‘ave in our trousers does not make us real men, Bejesus!”

Jean-François stood with his mouth open. He had no idea how to react. A feeling of dread was gnawing at him, gripping his spirit and numbing his body.

Seeing how pale and confused he was, Kalaan gave him a sly smile.

“So, are you one?” he whispered.

“One…what?” Jean-François, surprised by the question, could barely speak.

“A coward!”

The Egyptologist could not help but glance down at the buttons on his trousers, thinking about what the count had said. He jumped like a child caught in the act when he heard his friend laugh huskily. That rascal! He’d got him yet again!

“No, of course not!” he retorted, laughing stiffly.

“And what about the intelligent speech you made a short while ago?
Fear can be perfectly respectable when it pushes us to make the right choices
?
”
Salam subtly questioned in his strong accent. “Cowardice and fear are synonymous; this would be the time to make the right choice and not cross that threshold.”

Salam’s words were torment to Kalaan’s mind, in which reason and folly were doing battle. Was he a victim of the heat? He, who was usually in perfect control of his thoughts and actions, no longer recognized himself.

“Would you like me to tell you about the curse, my friend?” Jean-François offered. “I will decipher these last inscriptions so that they are complete. In this way you will have all the information necessary to make your decision.”

Kalaan sighed deeply and nodded, before Champollion spoke again.

“
Woe to he who profanes the den of fear, for on you the stone will unleash your worst fears, you will suffer, you will become, you will beg for the release that only… death... can bring you
,” as he finished reading his voice became more and more unsteady.

A deep silence fell over the group of men. The scorching heat was still very present, despite the setting sun; and yet their bodies were suddenly overcome with cold as if by there had been a cold breeze. Kalaan was the first to collect his thoughts as he approached the door; and when he spoke it was as if to himself.

“Look at Amarna and the ruins of what should have been an eternally prosperous place. Where are the people who were promised such splendor? There is nothing but dust! If ever there was magic here, we can come to the logical conclusion that it did not work. Following the same logic, we could also reasonably think that there was never a curse. This said however, I will yield to your wishes. We will turn back and leave this place to the sand and desert wind.”

He never knew who sighed with relief behind him because as he was speaking, Kalaan placed his hand on the warm stone, which instantly turned to ash.

Finally free of the door that had cut it off from the world, in a low mournful moan, the entire building took in a deep breath of the air from which it had been deprived for hundreds of centuries. There was nothing left of the door but a pile of dust at Kalaan’s boots and dark whirls of thick smoke that danced around the men before slowly disappearing. Kalaan paid little heed to these because, in front of him, he could see a long dark rectangular cut hall, gently sloping down into the darkness of the earth.

“Wha…what have you done?” Champollion stuttered, his brown eyes bulging incredulously at what he had just witnessed and his blood curdled by the sound the building had made.

“Nothing!” Kalaan managed to reply while forcing himself to breathe slowly and calmly, a muscle in his jaw throbbing nervously. “Perhaps the door was made of a soft substance... like the clay that we can find everywhere along the Nile? I scarcely touched it and everything collapsed.”

“But lad, clay canna turn te dust,” Lil’ Louis responded with difficulty, as he tried to sweep away the dark smoke fluttering in front of his face with his hands. “And what is this smoke?”

The Egyptian laborers began screaming and one of them even ran off in to the west. He was completely panic-stricken, and didn’t even realize he was running to certain death in the desert.

“You! Bring him back!” Kalaan ordered two of his Breton sailors, who immediately ran off after the panicked laborer. Salam meanwhile shouted orders in Arabic to calm the rest of the frightened workmen. One of them had pulled off his cheich, and threw it on the ground.

“Allah will protect you. Pray!” Salam scolded them as if they were children.

All the laborers kneeled and began chanting their prayers reinforced with extra “
Allahu akbars
[20]
”
, raising their hands to the sky before bending forward to place their hands and forehead on the ground. Kalaan’s sailors whispered among themselves but kept their positions. They were all men of honor and made of the same stuff as warriors. Never would they abandon their courageous buccaneer captain.

“It’s a sign of fate, I’m going in!” Kalaan announced firmly once everything was somewhat calmer. “Bring me a torch and my sword!” he ordered, tucking his pistol into his belt.

“It could also be a trap,” replied Salam, as the count grabbed a torch after sheathing his sword and entered the building.

“God only knows.” Kalaan’s response came as he began moving forward into the narrow tunnel, bending over to compensate for the low ceiling.

Jean-François hesitated a moment, looked questioningly at Lil’ Louis and Salam and, after realizing that they were not going to move, followed his friend into the tunnel.

“Wait for me!” he called in vain, because, as usual, Kalaan was far ahead, his silhouette barely distinguishable in the light of the torch; it was as if the darkness of the tunnel was sucking him in.