Area 51: The Legend (18 page)

“The capstone—what it calls the Master Guardian—will stop the Ancient Enemy,” Asim finally said as the vision ceased speaking. “Excalibur controls the power to the Guardian. While the sword is inside the sheath the Master Guardian cannot work. You have freed it and thus the Master Guardian has power. The Master Guardian can now take action against the Ancient Enemy.”

Khufu turned to the priest. “How will this Master Guardian do this? What Ancient Enemy?”

Asim was looking up. He pointed at the display on the roof of the cavern that showed the sky above the pyramid. “That enemy, my lord.”

Khufu looked up and blinked. There was a dark spot high in the sky, rapidly growing larger. As it descended it began to take shape and Khufu felt his stomach knot and twist with fear. It was a large black flying spider—that was the only thing he could think. Eight legs, spread wide around a central, round body. And large—how big he had no idea, but its shadow was now covering the top of the pyramid.

After breaking the Fynbar out of its underground lair, Gwalcmai had gained altitude and accelerated the craft to the south until he was at maximum speed for atmospheric transit. The extreme speed didn’t allow Donnchadh much opportunity to observe the lands they traversed to see how much things had changed since they last went into the deep sleep.

“I’ve got a radar contact in the air,” Gwalcmai said as he began to slow the
Fynbar
. They were over the Mediterranean and Donnchadh could see the coastline ahead marked by the mouth of the Nile.

“Visual contact,” Donnchadh said, pointing at a black spot on the forward display.

Gwalcmai dropped altitude and brought them to a halt about ten kilometers away from the descending craft.

“What the hell is that thing?” he asked, pointing not atthe scout ship but at the massive structure below it on the Giza Plateau. It had not been there the last time they had been in Egypt.

How will the Guardian fight this?” Khufu whispered as he stared at the thing hovering over the top of the Great Pyramid.

“You have given it power by removing Excalibur from the sheath,” Asim repeated. “Watch the power of the Gods, my lord.”

Khufu wanted to strangle the priest. He could not tear his eyes from the rapidly approaching monster. Suddenly a golden orb of power streaked upward from the Master Guardian toward the object and hit. The spider jerked sideways. Khufu kept his eyes on it and a second golden orb raced into the sky and struck the enemy. Bright red flames burst out of the side of the flying spider and it jerked once more, now going upward, trying to escape.

Finish it,” Gwalcmai whispered, actually urging success to his longtime enemy.

A third golden orb hit it and enveloped the entire object. It was still going higher and higher, edging toward the west. There was a blinding explosion and the scout ship was gone.

Gwalcmai checked his instruments. “Debris is to the west. And I think an escape pod was ejected.”

“Dammit,” Donnchadh hissed.

The golden glow inside the chamber decreased and Khufu almost collapsed, feeling drained. The Pharaoh started as the image began speaking again.

“We are safe for now,” Asim translated. “But”—he paused as he translated, eye closed—”it is not safe.”

“What isn’t safe?” Khufu demanded.

“The Great Pyramid. The Master Guardian. The pyramid did not work as intended. It summoned the Ancient Enemy and not the Gods of old. If the Ancient Enemy came once, it can come again. What drew it here must be destroyed.”

The figure chimed on for a minute and Asim remained silent, until the figure stopped speaking, coalesced into a thin red line, then disappeared.

Asim opened his eye. “I have been told what is to be done. Put the blade back in the sheath, my pharaoh.”

Khufu slid the blade into the scabbard.

“Come, my lord,” Asim was hobbling toward the tunnel. “There is much to do.”

So stunned was the Pharaoh by the recent events that he didn’t even question being ordered about by the priest. He simply followed him out of the chamber, the covered sword in his hands.

As Gwalcmai had noted, there was a black pod remaining from the scout ship. It was approximately fifteen feet across, the metal surface unmarred by the explosion. As the pod approached the surface of the planet, its terminal velocity began to slow as some internal mechanism interacted with the planet’s electromagnetic field. Still, it was moving so fast that the outer surface gave off heat, glowing in the sky like a falling star. Despite slowing, the pod hit a dune with enough velocity to plow deep into the sand. It was completely covered when the pod came to rest, submerged twenty feet in the desert.

Gwalcmai was relieved when Donnchadh appeared, coming over the crest of a sand dune, behind which he had the ship hidden. He opened the hatch and she entered, sweat staining her robes and her sandals covered with sand.

“Did you find the
Wedjat
?” Gwalcmai asked.

Donnchadh nodded. “In the same little hut.”

Gwalcmai sealed the hatch behind her. “It is amazing the line has survived this long.” He lifted the
Fynbar
and moved away from Giza, keeping low to the ground to avoid detection. “Should we stay in the area?”

Donnchadh nodded. “Yes. Just in case he fails.”

An hour after the crash, a camel rider approached. A Libyan who was heading toward Cairo to do some trading, he’d seen the falling star from his caravan ten miles to the south. Leaving his son in charge, he’d ridden in the direction the object had fallen, curiosity pulling him across the sand.

He’d already passed places where it was obvious objects from the sky had landed in the desert, but whatever had hit, they were deeply buried under the sand. He approached a sixty-foot-high sand dune and noted the disturbed surface near the top indicating another impact. The Libyan halted his camel at the base of the dune and dismounted. His robe flapped in a stiff breeze and all but his eyes was covered with the cloth wrapped around his head.

The Libyan paused, his head swinging back and forth as he looked about. He had the sense of being followed, but his eyes detected no sign of another person, though he’d had the feeling for a while now.

He cocked his head as he heard a sound. A grinding noise. Then nothing but the wind for several moments. He took several steps closer to the dune where the sound had seemed to come from. Then he heard something different. Almost a slithering sound. He took half a step back, then paused. There was something inside the dune. Of that there was no doubt in his mind. He looked left and right but there was no movement. He could feel the heat of the sun on his shoulders but a chill passed through his body. The Libyan drew a curved sword from his belt. The noise was getting louder.

Mustering his courage, the Libyan took several steps forward until he was at the base of the dune. The sound was very close now. The Libyan jabbed the point of his sword into the dune, the blade easily spearing the sand. He did it again and then again.

He pulled the blade back and cocked his head. Nothing.

The tentacles came out of the sand underneath his feet, wrapping around his legs. He was pulled under, desperately trying to slash and stab with his sword at whatever was below him. His scream was cut off as he disappeared under the sand. His camel bolted off into the desert, desperate to get away.

Then all was still.

A quarter mile away, on the far side of a dune, two dark eyes had watched the encounter. The observer waited a few moments, staring at the spot where the Libyan had disappeared, then he slowly slid down the side of the dune to his waiting camel. He headed back the way he had come, toward Giza. The sun glinted off a large ring set on the man’s right hand, highlighting the eye symbol etched on its surface. The hand that bore the ring held the camel’s halter, but it was shaking so badly from fright that he had to let go and allow the camel to make its own way home.

It was the middle of the night and by order of the great Pharaoh Khufu no one was allowed outdoors in sight of the Giza Plateau except himself and his high priest, Asim. Given the strange apparition the previous day of the flying “spider,” no citizens tried to resist the command. Khufu and Asim stood on the roof of the temple at the base of the Pyramid. The night sky was clear. Now that Khufu had Excalibur sheathed inside the scabbard strapped to his sword belt, the red capstone no longer glowed as if lit from within.

Khufu could still see in his mind’s eye the black spider that had come down from the sky. He did not understand what it was, but there was no doubt in him that it was a danger. Whatever entity controlled such a flying creature and was capable of fighting the Gods was indeed something to be feared.

“What are we waiting for?”

“When the sword is in the sheath, the”—Asim searched for the right words—”Chariot of the Gods cannot approach the capstone. You must take the blade out once more.”

Khufu drew the weapon. He watched as the capstone glowed once more.

Asim continued. “Since you have removed the sword, the capstone can be approached.”

“By who? What Chariot of the Gods?”

“There, lord.” Asim was pointing to the north.

Something was approaching through the sky. Khufu started, and then realized it wasn’t another air-spider. This object was shaped like an inverted dish and golden, reminding him of the glow that had surrounded him in the chamber far below during the day.

“The Chariot of the Gods,” Asim whispered.

The object passed by overhead and hovered above the very top of the pyramid. A glow extended down from the disk and surrounded the red Master Guardian.

Khufu started as the Master Guardian separated from the pyramid, lifting into the air as if by magic. The golden object, with the Master Guardian in tow, began withdrawing in the direction it had come from, to the north. Khufu watched until it disappeared into the night sky, then he turned to Asim.

“Where does it go?”

“To a secure place, my lord. Separate from the key.”

“Why separate the two?”

“The Master Guardian will be more secure if the key is not with it.” Asim absently rubbed his empty eye socket. “The sword you hold was once wielded by the greatest of the Gods. With it he controlled the Master Guardian, and in turn his entire domain.”

Khufu looked at the smooth blade. He had never seen such fine metal. “It is a great weapon, then.”

“It is,” Asim said. “Especially as it controls the power for the Master Guardian. It allows whoever has the sword to be very powerful.”

“And now?”

“Have your troops scoured the desert for the spider creature, my lord?”

“They have found no sign of the sky monster, but have apprehended all the people they found to the west.”

Asim nodded. “The prisoners must be part of what we do in the morning.”

“And?” Khufu pressed.

“My lord, tomorrow we must complete the undoing of what our people have worked so hard to do over the past twenty years.” He pointed. “The facing of the pyramid must be removed.”

“Why?”

“It sent out a signal as planned, my lord, but it did not bring the Gods as hoped, but their enemy.”

Khufu knew the pyramid could be seen from far away, and he imagined that if one could be in the sky, as the spidercreature had been, it could be seen from a great distance indeed. He did not wish for another visit.

“It will be done.”

Hidden in the dark shadows of a refuse pile of cracked stone blocks, the Watcher from the desert had observed the same thing as Khufu and Asim. He’d noted the direction the golden disk flew off toward, Master Guardian with it. Despite the darkness of his hiding place, he wrote all that he had seen down on a piece of reed parchment.

Then, keeping to ground he knew well, he made his way off the Giza Plateau and to a small hut near the Nile. Inside, he checked the writing, making sure it reported accurately what he had seen, then rolled it and slid it into a tube. He poured wax from a candle on the end and then used the ring to seal it with an imprint—the imprint had the same design as that on the medallion worn around Asim’s neck.

He slid the tube inside his robes and sat down cross-legged on the sand floor, waiting for the sun to rise. He’d managed to escape the Pharaoh’s troops in the desert, sticking to the hidden ways. He’d noted that the members of the Libyan caravan had been brought to the plateau in chains, the man he’d seen disappear under the sand among them.

He had accomplished the first part the strange woman had ordered. Tomorrow would be a most interesting day, he mused, as he would have to do the rest of what she had instructed.

When dawn came, it was assembly-line murder. The great Pharaoh Khufu, son of King Sneferu and Queen Hetpeheres, ruler of the Middle Kingdom, watched, his face impassive, as rivers of blood flowed down the smooth limestone facing of the Great Pyramid.

He was at the flat top where the Master Guardian had been, over 480 feet above the Giza plateau, seated in a throne made of gold. Four sacrificial tables were spread out in the small space in front of him, manned by priests of the Cult of Isis.

Asim was working swiftly, as there were many thousands of throats to be cut. A long line of stoop-shouldered men stood on the wooden scaffolding that led to the level platform at the top of the pyramid where Asim wielded Excalibur, the sword of the Gods, moving from table to table, sliding the razor-sharp blade across throats. Soldiers ensured that the line kept moving. Every worker who had spent even one minute inside the pyramid during its construction was in that line. When Asim’s work was done, the only ones to have been inside the pyramid and live would be Khufu and Asim.

As each worker reached the top, two soldiers would lift him bodily, throw him onto a slab, pinning his shoulders down, and a priest would hold his head back, waiting for Asim to come by and draw Excalibur across the man’s throat while quickly muttering the necessary prayer. Blood would spurt out of their carotid arteries, be caught by the lip of the slab, and be channeled into several holes to reed pipes at the bottom, which directed it to the edge of the platform and dispersed it onto the side of the pyramid. Three sides were drenched red and the reed pipes had just been redirected to the fourth side. As spectacular as the white limestone facing had been when pure, in an obscene way, the glistening red covering of blood made it even more awe-inspiring.