‘Oh my God,’ whispered India, ‘then it is true after all. The treasures are really down here.’
‘The real treasure is in the memories,’ said John, ‘not the value of the gold.’
‘Still,’ said Brandon, shining his lamp around the tunnel, ‘people would pay a fortune just to see this stuff.’ As they walked the lamp’s glow lit up dozens of fully wrapped mummies set back into alcoves cut into the stone walls. At the feet of each were Coptic jars, the clay pots containing the dried entrails of those who had been prepared for the afterlife.
‘John,’ said India quietly, ‘are these your ancestors?’
‘These were the travellers,’ said John, ‘the Anasazi. Our grandfathers say that as they died, their descendants treated them in this way. After many generations the practice died out and their descendants became our ancestors. These days our dead must be recorded in the papers of governments but sometimes our chiefs are still brought down here.’ He held up his lamp to illuminate a side chamber and they could see dozens more bodies laid out in shallow coffins, though this time with their faces exposed. ‘This is the way of our people,’ he said.
‘This must be a special place for you,’ said India.
‘It is,’ said John as they continued deeper into the tomb.
The further they went the more they saw. Carvings and statuettes lined the walls, representations of the entire Egyptian pantheon, and piles of copper weapon heads were scattered along the way, their wooden handles long rotted into dust. Eventually they came to a final cavern, lined with Egyptian mummies. At the end, two stone caskets stood slightly apart from the others. The lids were intact and each had a carving of an Egyptian soldier holding a spear.
‘These we call the guardians,’ said John, ‘it is said they were warriors and they wait for the king to arise from the dead.’
‘And when is that supposed to happen?’ asked Brandon.
‘At the beginning of the fifth world,’ said John, ‘all the dead will arise and take their true place amongst the living.’
‘So where is this king?’ asked India.
‘There,’ said John, pointing at the final tunnel. ‘He lies in peace, surrounded by the riches of all time. It is said that there is more gold than a man can imagine and jewels are piled higher than a man’s head. Statues of gold guard his coffin and animals carved from solid gemstones protect him from the spirits of the night.’
‘Can we go in?’ asked India.
‘You can, but the tunnel ends quickly. Be careful, for a shaft opens up before you and it is said it reaches the centre of the earth.’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘Nobody has been down there, it is forbidden by our elders and they say anyone daring to break the sleep of a god will die a thousand deaths.’
‘Let’s take a look,’ said India, and led the way into the tunnel. Sure enough, after fifty paces, the ground opened before her and a circular shaft dropped away at her feet. She held out the lamp but the light wouldn’t penetrate the suffocating blackness.
‘What’s that smell?’ asked Brandon.
‘It is the smell of the snake,’ said John. ‘Many are seen making this pit their home and it is believed they too protect the holy one.’
‘Another reason not to go in,’ sighed Brandon. ‘I guess we’ll never know if there’s anyone down there.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said India. ‘Look at that.’ She lifted her lamp up and shone the light onto the stone ceiling above the centre of the pit. ‘If I’m not mistaken,’ she said, ‘isn’t that a shaft through the rock?’
‘It is,’ said Brandon quietly, ‘just like the one in Khufu’s tomb under the pyramid back in Egypt.’
‘Exactly the same,’ said India, ‘and placed there so the Ba of the king can return to his body.’ She stared down the pit before looking back at Brandon.
‘I think he’s down there, Brandon, I think we’ve found him. This is the tomb of Khufu.’