The Forgotten God

Chapter 22

"Where are you going?"

Marie sighed and hurried down the corridor as Mr Montford strode down. The tiles were cracked and the lights hanging dangerously from weak wires but he wasn't fazed.

"You wanted to move, didn't you?" He said bluntly, focused on avoiding the pits and on the concaved door at the end. "Well, I decided you were right and I shall take a few matters into my own hands. The papyrus might not have given much away but it has enough imagery for me to form some conclusions."

"What conclusions?" Ash huffed. For a man who was so much older and whose injuries should have rendered him incapable of moving, he had an amazing endurance.

"Hieroglyphics can be interpreted many was," Mr Montford answered with a smile. "Sometimes just one picture can give you a lot of information. A picture does speak a thousand words after all. And why risk remaining like sitting ducks when we can perhaps help our divine, yet sluggish, helpers?"

"I suppose," Ash looked back at where the ceiling seemed to sunk down more. The consequences too dire to think about had it fallen in completely. "But I do wish you'd tell us what you're doing, how the hell can we help if you keep everything a secret?"

"If the objects are still intact then I will reveal all," Mr Montford paused to smile over his shoulder. "Or at least all I think I know, which is probably not much. Besides, you know how I am when I'm looking for something, the names always escape me. I don't think saying the grey, conical thing is much help, is it?"

Marie laughed merrily and moved ahead. The hinges of the door were bent out of shape, the safety glass shattered and decorating the floor with the plaster from above. She was used to hauling hefty and weighty buckets and pulling the heavy door open with her elbow but this was a challenge even for her.

"Don't strain yourself," she looked sternly, addressing him as she did her late grandfather when he tried to overdo things. "You need to conserve energy or you won't heal. Let Ash and me handle these, and," she shook her finger as he opened his mouth to protest. "I'll not have any argument! If I have to push you down, I will!"

"Very well," Mr Montford leaned against the wall, feeling the exhaustion chew as his muscles. They ached dreadfully from the blows he had taken and were enhanced by the antiseptic Marie had daubed him with. As much as it was needed, he resented the added pain it caused as it worked. "I'm not foolish enough to argue with a woman."

"What exactly are you looking for?" Ash knelt to force the base of the door, lifting his voice to be heard over the shrill shriek of the strained and crippled hinges. "You can give us a clue, surely?"

"A statue and two amulets." The answer was noncommittal as Mr Montford closed his eyes, gathering himself and picturing the pieces he hadn't looked at for some time. "Until I see them properly, I won't know if they were what I think they are. I don't want to get your hopes up, or my own."

Marie nodded with understanding; the mindset similar to her own late father's. Never raise hopes as then you would never have them dashed. In truth it didn't stop the spark in your heart, that was human nature but the disappointment perhaps didn't last as long.

Ash didn't see it the same way and his eyes darkened, feeling that old uneasy sensation of having something kept from him. When people did that it often meant something unpleasant.

'It's only an upset stomach! Nothing for you to worry about.'

That's what his Aunt had told him. That she would be right and rain soon enough. Less than five months later he was standing in the chapel staring in disbelief at her coffin. Even at ten years old he could have understood cancer, or could have been prepared for it.