Metjen climbed up the boulders, sending a landslide of rocks tumbling towards the ground. He scrambled towards Trueth on all fours, then stopped right next to her. Together, they observed the mirror-still surface of the glass container. Which gave nothing away.  

The greenish fluid below them was the only splash of colour in their dusty grey of their surroundings—apart from the purple of the ring. And the quiet occupant of the aquarium was the only unmoving body in the hall. Unlike those other things persisting with their shimmy, things turning into complete bodies, dragging themselves from the floor. Trueth felt queasy, not only because of the increasing stink which reminded her of Gorgonzola cheese. 

'Metjen, these dead... .'

''I see them. But their ba is not with their bodies. They can only frighten you. They can't harm you. Unless you let them. So don't.'

'And that guy?' Trueth looked at the blurry form in the tank, swimming in and out of her vision. She wondered whether the perspective was making her woozy. And why she felt the urge to move, to get closer—

Metjen's voice penetrated her confusion. 'Can't tell you. Leave him be for the moment. Maybe it's that goo.'

Out of nowhere, a whisper breathed into her thoughts. He's alive. Save him—do it now.

The urge to move intensified. Trueth lost the struggle with her limbs and scrambled towards the edge of the rock pile, sending a shower of pebbles over the edge.

'I must get him out of there!' Her scream reverberated around the hall.

'You nuts?' Rani-Ra said, glaring up in disgust.

Save him! The whisper became more persistent, forcing her towards the rock below, closer to the tank.

'I have to go. Have to help,' she babbled.

A vice grabbed her in its iron grip. Metjen's arm squeezed the air from her lungs and bruised her waist. He dragged her backwards and forced her down the other side of the pile of boulders. The insidious whisper would not let go and she fought him all the way to the bottom.

You must... .The urge winked out in her brain and left her spinning. Her ribcage hurt and she was drenched in sweat.

'Drink this.' Metjen put a cup to her mouth, a tarry sweet liquid tasting of cardamom went down her throat, and she nearly spat it out again.

'Oy, that was the last of my coffee,' Metjen said and stored the Thermos in his backpack. He got up from the floor, took a used sani-wipe from his pockets and dabbed at the scratches on his arms.

Trueth blinked at him in confusion. At Rani-Ra, who was tilting her head. At the Servants who stared back. 'Did I dream this bit, or was I ready to jump into that muck to get at a dead guy?'

'Define dead,' Metjen said with a half-smile. He muttered something and touched Trueth on the forehead. The rest of her giddiness faded away—only to return as Metjen crushed her in one of his bearhugs. 'For a moment I thought we would lose you. Don't do that again.'

Trueth's cheeks burned. That could only be the caffeine. The stuff had never agreed with her. 'It wasn't my idea, there was a voice in my head!'

Metjen stretched. 'What's new. We leave him where he is. This place is a real mess. Let's go back and ask Iseret a few more questions.'

Nobody had any issues with this suggestion, so they left the tank and its lonely occupant behind in the gloom and retraced their steps to the back of the hall. Fortunately, only a few of the grisly corpses came to investigate. The Servants simply mind-shoved them out of the way.

'I wonder what happens should we ever get this portal to work. The sleepers might be dead after all these years,' Metjen said.

The image of a horde of screeching lunatics stampeded through Trueth's thoughts. 'Or maybe they've woken up in between and have gone mad!'

'Calm down. You're not wrong, though. I have my doubts this broken stuff will still do its job,' Metjen responded.

'And even if it does, and these people have not gone gaga or snuffed it. Wherever they are. What happens if this gimmick only half works and they land in our world?' Trueth wondered.

'Ugh!' Metjen pulled a face. 'That's a horror scenario.'

They had arrived next to the exit in the ceiling and Metjen craned his neck to see how the snakes were doing around the hole. They still appeared to be there, and they wasted no time and slobbered more venom.

Metjen swore and jumped back, at least this time they did not get him. They did succeed in rousing him, though, for Trueth sensed a rush of heat boil from deep inside Metjen as he shook his fists at the hole and bellowed out his rage.

'How in the name of fucking Imhotep am I supposed to guard the bloody light with this shit going on here?'

Quiet descended. Even the restless rustling stopped. The dead seemed to listen. As did Trueth andthe others. They did not have to wait long. A golden ray lit up the hole above, rotated around the space underneath like a spotlight held by a drunken stage technician until it found Metjen. It covered his whole body with its sheen; little bubbles floated up in a glorious embrace as he slowly unclenched his fists. Something sniggered in the dark. The light flickered over to Rani-Ra and enfolded her too. A face appeared in the bubbly light—the face of the woman they had seen diving into the Nile and delivering her warning in the shaft. She blew them a kiss. The hall flickered briefly; the ray retreated, and stillness reigned again. No more rustling—and no cobras either, they had vanished.

Metjen covered his face with his hands. 'I should have done this much earlier. No wonder this whole set-up is so illogical. It's run by women.'

Not waiting for comments, he pointed at himself, then at the floor above and in the next moment he floated up through the hole and disappeared from view. Trueth held her breath until she saw little beady eyes but instead there was a most welcome cool voice coming from above.

'All safe here. It's empty.'

One by one the expedition came back up, into the anteroom, and onto the landing which had become terra firma. They returned up the shaft into the chamber where Iseret still squatted, facing the other doorway.

***

She stirred and pivoted towards them. 'What is it you have found?'

Wordlessly Metjen held out the palm with its brand-new scar towards his former leader.

'Your hands are soiled.'

Bile rose at the back of his throat and he flexed his fingers. How he would have liked to close them around Iseret's scrawny neck and squeeze that unnatural life from her body. He swallowed, examined his fingers and conceded she had a point. The scar had disappeared. Most likely another one of Amasis's little tricks.

Iseret kept hovering up and down straight in front of his eyes, expecting a full report.

Metjen crossed his arms and waited until her searchlight glare had reached its full wattage. 'That portal is a goner. And whatever this metal was for—'

'—I told you. The device of life had been set up to convey the power, but the dark ones destroyed it. We need at least the portal and the pedestal. Show me what you saw.' She raked through his mind and her eyes flickered. 'This is not good.'

'Why did these corpses twitch?' Rani-Ra asked.

'Even in death, the dark ones want to foil the plans of the Guardians. But I'm not sure it still matters.' Iseret had deflated against her plinth, her feet back on the ground again.

So their ancestors were not part of that grisly residue. Good to know. And she had only seen what he had wanted her to see. Two could play this game, even if his sun-flow was again running low, and a headache had started. But Iseret was still holding back. So he had to play his trump card, hoping it had not disappeared with the other corpses.

Trueth, ask her about that strange priest.

She nodded. 'Who's the priest in the glass tank?'

Iseret shot away from her support. 'What? I did not see this in Metjen's mind.'

'I didn't want you to.' Metjen grinned at her. 'But he's down there, preserved by that fluid. There's a warning, it says he's the one responsible for this evil. He's under a monstrous curse. And yet somebody has scratched a feather of the Maat into his hand. I could not read him but I don't think he's dead. But not alive either. What is he? And who is he? One of the dark priests?'

Iseret prowled the chamber with renewed vigour. 'This is no dark priest. This is He who is Lost.'

'How can you be sure?' Metjen asked. 'I felt a spurt of energy and Trueth was ready to dive into the tank and fish out a corpse.'

Iseret waved him away. 'What you felt was the power of the Guardians who want this one rescued. If we save him, we have all the people to draw the power for the portal. I am still not sure we should try, not after I have seen the state it is in. '

Metjen congratulated her silently. For once they agreed on something. Their puzzle had turned out to be an ancient choreography where invisible powers directed their puppets. And he resented having his strings pulled.

'We do not understand all this, Your Wisdom?' Isis ventured carefully. She would not know. None of them could. Nebmutef was the only Servant who he had told the full story.

He listened to Iseret as she explained the purpose of those four people, the Walker, the Foreigner, a Guardian and He who is Lost, who formed a walking, breathing plan B. At least most of these people were breathing such as Trueth and him, and he was fairly sure about Iseret too. On a second thought, Metjen decided it might be Rani-Ra they were after, as somebody seemed to be unfairly inclined towards women. He shook out of his reverie and observed Iseret as she was concluding her speech.

'The key we have at the temple would have granted access had the Device of Life been intact. But instead we now need the combined will, ka and sun-flow of these four. And only those can achieve their goal when the time is right—which it never was before.'

Something still was missing, Metjen thought. 'Did the Guardians tell you?' he asked.

Iseret shook her head.

'Then who did?'

'This is of no consequence. You must go back to the temple, and I must think and decide what is to be done. If there is something to be done.' Iseret was ready to hover back to her plinth when Metjen intercepted her flight path.

'I won't go anywhere, and you don't decide.'

Metjen nipped a poisonous stare in the bud with a slicing motion. 'Enough of this. You're still holding back. I want the full truth this time, and if you convince me we might, I say might involve you.' Metjen watched his priests who all had inched towards him during the exchange. He felt like giving them a thumbs up.

'Ask!' Iseret snarled.

'Who told you all this stuff? Did you read it somewhere, in a papyrus for example?'

'I did not...read about it—I was told,' came out between clenched teeth.

'Did the Guardians know about you? You showed us the scene at the Nile, but were you actually with them?' Metjen asked.

Iseret nodded, her face pinched and sweating. 'I went in behind them. But my role was not to be part of their force. I am the Walker. I was sent to help in case the others did not achieve their goal.'

Metjen tapped his cheek. This sounded halfway plausible.

'I was also given the duty to watch over the Guardians. I buried the last one of the original four. They gave their lives to protect the access.' She took a deep breath. 'I have been keeping your family safe all those years. You two resemble your ancestress not only in looks— '

'Great, thanks. Who gave you this role?' Rani-Ra asked.

Iseret's snarl showed she was running out of patience.

Trueth, Rani she doesn't want to talk about whoever sent her on her mission. Ask her something else, quick!

Trueth caught the mind ball. 'So you got the useless key from the Guardians—'

'I did, but it is not useless,' she snapped. 'It still told us when the constellations are favourable to send on the sleepers. Which they are—'

They were back in business. 'And you're part of a backup force that was to come, as you said, in time. And it indeed took a long time. It took until now. Assuming that this guy in the tank is who you say he is,' Metjen said.

Her hands fluttered. 'He is.'

'How can you be sure?' Trueth intervened again.

'I knew him. I can see him in your minds. Not Metjen's,' she growled.

He decided to let this stand for a moment. There was one thing that still bothered him. 'Why didn't you join us? It was dangerous, and your power is greater than mine.'

She snorted. 'Now you acknowledge me.'

'Answer my question!'

'It is as I told. I guarded the entrance.'

'This wasn't necessary, you created the veil, I'm sure it would have kept a few heavyweight nasties out, at least for a while. And we weren't miles away,' Metjen said.

Trueth turned towards Iseret. 'My point exactly. Why didn't you join us?'

'I told you I could not. But this has changed, and we should stop wasting time.' Iseret's voice was getting louder.

'Why couldn't you come? I asked you once before,' Trueth said.

Metjen wondered what differed from before. 'Because the Guardian's traps are gone?'

'Yessss...with you they only toyed,' Iseret hissed between clenched teeth. 'Leave me be.'

'Why would they be a danger to you?' Metjen asked.

Iseret seemed to grow in front of their eyes. She rose to the ceiling, arms stretched out wide, dark hair in an electrified halo all around her face, her robes flapping in the wind that had blasted in from nowhere. The smell of sulfur, fire and death rose with her. Her eyes—black coals lit with an unholy fire.

Iseret's voice boomed into the hush. 'BECAUSE I WAS THE FIRST OF THE DARK PRIESTS!'

===

Image is "The lost tomb of the heretic pharao" copyright ChrisKuhlmann from DeviantARt.