A bit earlier....

The tendril slammed Metjen into the packed-earth ground with a vehemence that jarred his bones. He called up the protective wings of Nut and wrapped them around his body before he jumped up from the floor.

The wings cost precious magical energy, but this place could cost his life. The room he found himself in reminded him of the temple's main chamber, only its ceiling was much higher. It was clad in the same grey stone as the original corridor and again was covered in curses. Which were in the same abysmal state as those outside.

Unlike those, the new chamber was free of dust and debris. Instead, a profusion of baskets and trunks lined its walls. A fusty stench assaulted his nostrils.

This stink is familiar, he thought. He whirled around once, spotted four walls, but no exit—and noticed the plinth in the middle.

On a familiar tasselled silk mattress rested an equally familiar small figure, clad in white and staring beyond the room with unseeing eyes.

Your Wisdom?

There was no response. As Metjen crept closer, he remembered that the wings rendered him invisible. He hesitated briefly, then dispelled his cover.

You came even quicker than expected. A silent non-voice echoed in his brain.

Iseret remained on her plinth with her legs crossed. Her arms were hanging loosely at her sides while her eyes still focussed on whatever she saw beyond the wall behind Metjen. She appeared vibrant and more fully alive than he had ever seen her before, even her hair had changed to a glossy black, with bluish sparks rippling through her locks. Metjen sensed pressure on his head and a compulsion to drop onto his knees. It made him wonder whether he might have shed those wings too quickly.

Stop your mind-games, he projected, stepped towards the front of the plinth and ascended into a matching position in mid-air.

Iseret smiled at him. Or rather: She showed her teeth in a grimace that could pass for a smile.

'Who did you bring?' She asked. 'Before you pose unwise questions—I conjured the haze for my protection, but it limits my perception as it limited yours.'

Her voice still packed a world full of power into words spoken without volume. She had to be fully recovered but he was not, so he better be careful. Metjen told her about the expedition. Iseret nodded once and floated off her plinth, beckoning to him to follow towards the side of the chamber.

She pressed her hands against the wall, and what had been solid stone one moment flowed aside, showing an opening above another shaft. It penetrated further into the deep, its walls bearing even more of the destroyed protective curses. Chunks of rock, soot and debris covered the steps as far as he could see.

'What happened?' Metjen asked. 'The demons?'

Iseret shook her head. 'The dark priests found their way inside Imhotep's edifice but had no time to call those fiends. It is their entrance I use when I need to be alone. The one you now came through was protected by the curse that gave you such pains. It was beyond their reach as it was beyond yours.'

'I'm no dark priest!'

'You are rash and you need to listen. In the past, there were many with the Blessing, the dark priests but a handful among them. For the curse to be strong, no exceptions were made, it was cast to keep out anybody who had passed that ritual.'

'Didn't they—whoever they were—overdo it just a tick?'

'That was the purpose, to leave the dark ones behind.'

She was talking in riddles again. 'I got through. The curse has burned out. I assume this isn't good news.'

'No,' she said. 'But we stand a chance as long as the lights burn on the key.'

'They did when I last checked. But they flicker.'

'Yes, they would. Call your serfs. I want you to check on the Device of Life. We need to see what state it is in, and we must make haste before it is too late.' She glared at him like she had done whenever she wanted him to carry out an order.

'Your Wisdom, you are not telling the whole truth. And don't tell me I need not hear it. I do. And so do the others. Otherwise, we're not going.'

Iseret regarded him with that expression of hers which conveyed endless disgust without moving a single muscle. 'Fine,' she snapped. 'But you call your followers. I want them to hear this from me. And I will not talk twice.'

With this, she hovered back to the safety of her plinth. Metjen caught himself inclining his head, clenched his jaw and went back towards the doorway where he hesitated briefly.

Iseret smiled. 'The veil keeps away intruders. You are with me because I wanted you to. Now, go and call the others.'

He felt the bruises from his hard landing and nearly hit his fist against the wall. She was doing it again.

Still, she had what he wanted, answers, so he stuck his head through the haze and called in his team.

Trueth appeared first, followed by Rani-Ra.Then the priests came trundling in. They saw Iseret, and with exclamations of joy, sank to the floor, assuring their erstwhile leader of their respect at the same time as praising the Lord Ra—or the Lady Hathor, depending on perspective. The result was slightly discordant. Iseret winced, thanked them and asked them to rise.

'You will need to depart on a quest and do it soon. But Metjen asks me to tell you before you go, so listen well.'

Metjen leaned against the wall next to the entrance. His sister and Trueth joined him while the priests knelt near Iseret on her cushioned podium, slack expressions melting down their radiant faces.

He was trying to work out why he ended up doing all the work while others got what they did not deserve when Iseret started talking again.

'Down here you behold the remains of the first Kemet civilisation. Apart from those ruins above...but they do not count. The priests in their sanctuaries enjoyed the grace of the gods, and it gave them great power—much more than the power modern people get from those machines.' A smirk besieged Iseret's impassive features and lost. 'This world is truly nothing.'

'Maybe it's because your people—and I assume you are from back then—left us no choice,' Trueth said quietly.

The priests turned around, regarded Trueth, then pivoted back towards the high priestess of Hathor, confused expressions showing on their faces which Metjen found hilarious.

They should have learned their lesson by now.

Brother Eje asked in a wavering voice, 'Are you truly that old?' Metjen wondered whether he should leave him behind, before he collapsed in a heap.

'I am, brother, but this is of no importance. Pray let me finish. I will show you what happened afterwards... .' With this, Iseret rose on her plinth, stretched out her arms and raised her face towards the ceiling. Metjen felt a pressure on his cranium. She had gone Beyond.

The chamber got darker as a greyish mist arose from the floor surrounding the plinth.

The vapour rolled into shapes, took on colour and there they were, a small gaggle of priests. They must have been priests, for their heads were shaven. Wearing long robes of many colours and standing in a circle they were doing—whatever they were doing.

It could not have been good, for in their midst rose dark writhing bodies, contorted spectres of black with eyes glowing red and contours that refused to be defined. Distorted sound joined the visions, as the demons welled up like boiling tar and exploded into the priests, into their temple—burning everything in their path. A whiff of sulphur mingled with the stink of burning flesh filled the chamber.

The demons dissolved into the image of a shrine flaring up. A priest tumbled off a pylon like a dirty shooting star. Houses imploded and the rising dust first showed nothing, until a foot appeared, followed by a tiny hand still gripping a doll. There were people fleeing to—the Nile? Their eyes were open wide, their mouths forever frozen in an endless scream, as something dark flapped from the palm trees and with a casual gesture made their skin bubble and peel from their bodies.

And still they ran on.

The images flickered and dissolved back into the mists. The cries faded into the corners of the chamber while the metallic odour grew stronger.

Iseret's silent voice blended out the vision.

'To save Kemet from the terror, the high priests and Pharaoh asked for the Pylon of Hope to be built, so they all could live on in a mirror world. The dark priests were exiled. The demons could not follow. They have to be summoned.

'An army of brave people stayed behind. They were to ascertain the sleepers would arrive safely. Also, they would fight the dark priests in this world, to stop them from trying to follow, before the warriors would pass through the Device of Life —you would call that a portal. They were led by the four called the Guardians—and Pharaoh himself. His son, the Horus in his nest, remained with Those that were to go.'

Again the mists rose and with them the images from the wall—but this time they saw more.

Pharaoh was holding the hands of a young boy, passed the symbols of ruling power, the flail, sceptre and the double crown to the child. He left him standing there, crying, with many people weaving around the boy in silent anguish as they led him away. A blur of images was followed by Pharaoh leaving with another group.

The group included mother?—it could not have been her, Metjen thought.

Whoever the woman was, she had the scarab ring on her finger, the man beside her wore a flawless wig, together they all went towards the Nile and dove right into it.

The green waters were rising before their eyes with a rushing sound, and there were shouts of alarm all around Metjen.

'Fear not,' said Iseret's voice.

The waters dropped again as the floods of the Nile had done thousands of of years ago. Where there had been temples, houses, gardens and people, Metjen only saw mudflats, desert and wilderness bordering a serene river.

Everything else was gone—apart from a few pyramids huddling on the horizon.

'All living beings were sent to sleep, the powers that ensured the passage into the mirror would have destroyed their minds, had they been awake. There also were spells that would not allow a dark priest to rise from the sleep —not all were accounted for and ousted into exile. But this did not work. The dark priests could not be vanquished.'

The step pyramid manifested in the chamber, but it appeared different, smooth and covered in the shiny grey stone—only at its top destruction had blackened the outside and blown off the tip.

Iseret paused, and the images evaporated. She had slumped on her plinth.

'The dark priests destroyed the spells, damaged the pylon and the sleepers never got into the mirror world. Pharaoh and the Guardians beat those dark ones, but they could no longer follow themselves.'

'And they accepted it just like that?' Rani-Ra asked.

'They did no such thing, sister of Metjen. Those people were warriors. They fought hard to do what they had come for.'

'Do what?' Metjen said.

Iseret pointed at the destruction on the surrounding walls.

'They tried to send on the sleepers. But it was no longer possible. So they built the big structures in Giza with the help of those who had lived in the wastelands. Those found a new home at the Nile. But there were not enough priests among Pharaoh's warriors. They could not harvest the grace of the gods, and their labour was in vain.'

Trueth gulped 'You mean these pyramids are really—'

'The passageways of the power needed to do all this, yes. And this one became the tomb of Pharaoh,' Iseret said.

'And if this failed in the past, how can we succeed so many years later?' Nefer had got up and tiptoed backwards away, from Iseret, who illuminated herself.

'This place warps time... .' Trueth said slowly.

'Yes, it does that, and it kept me alive. As to succeeding—I was told of another way. But only recently the constellations were right and almost all the people we need are with us.'

Iseret ascended and hovered over to Trueth, who twisted around but did not seem to appreciate either of the exits on offer. Iseret once more bared her teeth at Metjen.

'We are still missing one more and we need to find out what is down there. There are places where even I cannot enter. But you can, and you must make haste and not wait.'

'Why didn't you tell us before?' Metjen asked. 'Might have avoided a few problems.'

'The demons rule this world. They could have found their way into the temple... . They would have used our powers to get in here. I cannot allow that. I have to protect the sleepers.'

'But doing nothing endangers them as well.' Metjen said.

Trueth said, 'Why can't you enter—'

'Nothing more of this now.' Iseret turned towards the group. 'Go and tell me what is down there. I will wait and guard this entrance so you cannot be harmed.' She settled on the plinth. 'I still have much concern the demons might have heard the message and claim they have been called. They are wily. You beware—the Guardians have protected what was left. But Metjen and Rani-Ra are their issue, so I pray you be safe.'

With this helpful comment, Iseret settled back into her trance, presumably to shield them as she had said. The smell of metal and myrrh lingered for a moment, then it wafted away.

===

This chapter is dedicated to @fewtr57. He was baffled by a lot of hair, hair colour, shoes and similar challenges. He still read on. I admire his perseverance, especially as his novel 'Mammoth Woman' is a lot more straightforward than mine. We definitely have humour in common, and I hope he enjoys that we finally are getting some answers. 'Kemet', by the way, is the name the ancient Egyptians had for their home country. Photo Karen Green on Wikimedia Commons.