Tombquest: Book of the Dead

Prologue

Deep in the Egyptian night, the crypt was once again alive with activity.

Black candles cast an orange glow on the sandstone walls of the burial chamber, where row after row of ancient images and carved hieroglyphs detailed a history of trickery and triumph. A mix of beetle shells and bird feathers smoldered in a bronze pot. Animal hair and shed snakeskins burned slowly in another. A harsh, burnt smell filled the air. It was the stuff of life giving off the stink of death.

For thousands of years, the same secret organization had gathered here. It was were powerful people went to avoid detection, to discuss — or to do — the unthinkable.

The members of this secret society assembled around a massive stone sarcophagus. The ancient corpse entombed within was their founder. Everything they did was to serve him. Everything they did was to bring him back.

One by one, they began a low chant in his honor.

The first to start wore a dirty gray robe. It hung heavily on his angular frame, as if weighed down by grease. On his head was a mask in the shape of a fly's head. Two large eyes bulged out from the sides and glistened in the candlelight. His voice was jittery and uneven.

The next to pick up the ominous chant wore a flowing blue-green robe. His mask was the heavy iron image of a crocodile. Together, the robe and mask showed the powerful predator emerging from it's hiding place beneath the Nile.

The next chanter was so thin under her crimson robe that she might have only been skeleton. Her voice was a dry and scratchy. On her face was the pale image of a lioness, carved from bleached bone.

The last to join in was a towering figure, a good foot taller than the others. His robe was as black as a starless sky and his mask was the stuff of nightmares. An Egyptian vulture: Part scavenger, part predator, it was a creature that dealt in death and wasn't picky about the details. The beak turned from gold to iron as it hooked down to a brutal, deadly point.

The vulture's voice was strong, clear — and utterly without emotion.

As the chanting reached a crescendo, the faintest traces of other voices chorused in. Raspy whispers played on a light breeze that had no place in the sealed underground chamber.

The four stopped chanting abruptly. The phantom voices hung on a half beat longer, then faded back into the shadows.

The meeting began. They didn't bother with the usual topics: the grim business of disposing of a body, or the intricacies of expanding their vast wealth. There was only one topic tonight, something so legendary that it made everything else seem trivial.

"They have them," said the man in the fly mask. "Yes," said the lioness. "They found them when we could not, in all our years of searching."

"They have something," said the crocodile. "How do we know its really — "

"I know!" The vulture cut in. The others fell silent. "The Lost Spells have been found. Now all that's left is to get them ourselves. And use them."

The others shot quick, nervous looks at the sarcophagus. It was the lioness who spoke next. "They plan to keep them in plain sight; they have no idea how powerful they truly are," she rasped. "Only the woman knows."

"We need someone there when they arrive," said the fly.

The vulture-headed man looked around the chamber, pinning each acolyte in place with his gaze. "It has already been arranged," he said. "Al-Dab'u is there."

The leader raised his hand and closed it, and the black candles went out with an angry hiss. The lioness, the crocodile, and the fly melted away in the darkness. Back to the surface, back to the desert night.

Once they were gone, the vulture stood motionless in the dark tomb. He'd sensed something in the room,practically tasted it in the air. Fear. These were his top lieutenants, carefully selected for their brutal efficiency. But now that the Spells were so close, even they were scared of what was to come.

He rested his hands on the cold Stone of the sarcophagus.

They should be afraid, he thought.

Everything they had done until now had been practice.

But this — this was the real test.

The door between worlds would soon be opened. The power of the dead was within his reach.