The clues they uncovered during their journey combined with topographical facts gathered from their Roman map, provided them with hints. The dead explorers used the distance between the two peaks of a range of distant mountains to create a triangle with the tomb, but also noted the position of the stars in relativity to the burial place in the same way sailors navigated a boat.

Another week passed before Talmud informed them that the mountains had appeared on the horizon, and the men calculated the distance with the information at hand.

Talmud established a base camp but pitched their tent some distance from the main encampment. He made sure his men knew that he'd deal harshly with anyone found snooping.

Rowan copied the map and Marcus drew a grid with numbers. Talmud insisted on accompanying them on their nightly searches. Another fortnight passed before Talmud informed them that they were running low on supplies.

He sent his second in command, a man named Mohammud with half his people to fetch supplies. The vampires said nothing, but they wondered if the caravan would return. They often heard snatches of conversations during the day and the early evenings which revealed the growing unhappiness of the humans and their suspicion that Talmud lost his mind.

When they returned to camp on one bitterly cold morning, twenty days later, the caravan had returned, and Rowan wasn't the only one that noted Talmud's relief.

The four of them unraveled the past, made mistakes and started over, but as such things happen, they stumbled upon their quarry by accident. They returned to the same area they searched the night before, but couldn't finish exploring before sunrise.

Rowan stepped in a hollow that gave way and sent her tumbling down the lee side of a dune. She hit her head and didn't stop rolling until she reached the bottom.

"I'm fine," Rowan called out when she gathered her wits, and she felt stupid. Sand made its way into places it didn't belong, and she concluded that happiness would be if she never saw another dune in her life.

"You're bleeding," Marcus remarked, she was barely visible in the dune's shadow, but the night air carried the scent of her blood.

"I hit my head on something," Rowan explained as she reached for the sore spot on her scalp, and her fingers came away bloodied. She winced. Her head hurt, but the wound would soon heal. She heard them make their way down, but she didn't lift her head as she waited for the dizziness to settle.

Rowan's mind cleared as she took in her own words. They reached her and helped her to her feet, but before Alena could inspect the wound, Rowan pulled free of their hold and started back up the dune.

It resembled a divot in the sand, but instinct drew Rowan to it. She knew they found what they were looking for with a certainty that wasn't natural. Only as she knelt beside it, did something become clear in her mind. It wasn't the scrolls that brought them to this place, but instinct.

Every night, for the last two weeks, she experienced a restlessness in her soul that compelled her to move in a particular direction, and she suspected Alena also sensed it. The sensation became stronger with each passing night, but she didn't know what it meant until she touched the sand. Something made her scurry to the summit, and the moon emerged from behind a cloud just as she reached the top.

The ruins of a city lay partially unearthed by the wind, and the map in her mind altered to include what she saw. The knowledge entered her thoughts like a piece of the puzzle falling into place. She didn't wait for the others as she made her way to the foot of the dune and almost stumbled over a half-buried, roundish metal object. It drew her attention, and she stopped to dig it out.

Rowan rose to her feet with the Roman helmet in her hands just as the others reached her. It reflected the light of the moon as her fingers traced the intricate metalwork. She handed it to Marcus, but even as he studied it, his eyes kept wandering to the ruins.

"I didn't think we'd find it," Marcus marveled as he handed the helmet to Talmud who handled it with reverence, and used his sleeve to dust it off before placing it in his bag. Alena and Rowan glanced at each other, and they realized that they never doubted their destination.

Rowan started off again, and within a few feet, she noticed a paved road partially exposed to the night. Worn by wind and the ages, the builders created an absolutely level surface that even time didn't buckle. Each brick a perfect square crafted with such expertise it seemed no human hand could have formed them. This path led from the city to the burial mounds of their kings, and even though the map indicated a road, they didn't expect to find an actual street.

The builders placed markers beside the road, square blocks of stone about thigh height, and as wide as her hips, every hundred and fifty feet. They could follow the markers even where the sand covered the paving. It led to the city one way, and right through the dune in the other direction. The dunes created a valley that stretched between them for some distance.

Rowan turned to face the dune. It had to be one of the burial mounds. With the divot ten feet from the top and the road a hundred feet below, it stood to reason that the tombs must resemble those of the pharaohs, but on a much smaller scale. Then again, there were indications that the graves included underground chambers.

The builders might have used the height above ground as a ruse to make the tombs less impressive, and less likely to contain treasure.

Talmud returned during the daylight hours with some workers and unearthed the entrance to the tomb. He understood the unease of his men because he experienced it for himself, but he kept them in line. A week of work cleared the entrance and exposed a crudely built wall that didn't match the surrounding workmanship.

The vampires explored the city as far as they could and found many interesting trinkets. Talmud had a friend with an interest in antiquities who studied ancient civilizations through the artifacts they left behind, and they left their finds in Talmud's care. Trinkets had no value to them, but it kept them occupied until they could enter the tomb.

Talmud's men refused to break down the wall, and the vampires did this task on their own. The Romans left such precise notes that when they entered the cold, musty darkness, they realized this wasn't the right tomb. The walls were unadorned, bare of paintings, precious metals, inscriptions, clay pots, or any indications of human burial. The wall at the back had no markings, no warnings, and led nowhere.

Rowan found what amounted to a map of the tombs painted on one of the rear walls. A single panel created with precision by a master hand.

"According to this map, there were fifteen tombs. Ten kings, three Queens, a prince, an empty tomb and something you should rather see for yourselves," Rowan revealed. Her time with Alena and Marcus taught her to read some glyphs.

Unlike the other tombs, the one in the center was unmarked in yellow gold but depicted in black onyx with no indication if the occupant was either male, female or a child, and it seemed somehow sinister.

"If this is the unoccupied tomb, then it stands to reason that the black grave should be the next one over and to the west,″ Rowan concluded.

"Back then they flattened the dunes to put the city and the tombs on level ground, and precisely equidistant to create a triangle with the city as the base," Marcus deduced, and Alena agreed.

The map gave them the details to narrow down their search. They discovered two more tombs, one nearly destroyed and the other encased in a massive dune, but for one cornerstone.

They marked each as they found it and by the week's end, they had mapped eleven. One entire tomb seemed to have gone missing, and all that remained of another was rubble. The thirteenth tomb stood partially demolished between two dunes and number fourteen retained only its foundation.

The black tomb proved harder to find. It had to be in the center of the damaged area, but a month passed without them finding it. Talmud ended up having to shift an entire dune with shovels, sleighs, and camels.

Rowan and Alena's instincts assured them the tomb would be there, but keeping the men convinced without revealing their reasons, took some doing. It had to be there, and it was.

As with the surrounding tombs, the structure above ground almost entirely destroyed. One could almost interpret the damage as if a giant slammed his fist into the ground and destroyed everything in its wake. It took another week to cart the sand from the stairs that led down and stabilize the entrance.

Talmud stood beside them that evening as they were about to enter, and he shook his head in disbelief.

"I never thought we would find it," he admitted, and Marcus didn't reveal that he shared the same doubts.

The workers blankly refused to go beyond the steps to the doorway that led below, and the four of them did the final preparations by themselves. Talmud declined to follow them further inside than the lower chamber.

The moment they entered the darkness, they could feel what repelled the men. The inside of the tomb held an unnatural, clammy chill that made the hair on the back of their necks stand upright.

Red markings in the elaborate panels led them, and they made their way carefully through the empty tomb. Rowan had the oddest sensation as if they were walking back in time. The murals were brilliant, much brighter than those of the other graves, but they were all empty, stripped bare of treasure.

The glyphs told of a thriving society and a strong king for whom they had intended this tomb and then, abruptly, as they neared the lower level, the panels ended, abandoned in mid-story. The red markers overpainted some of the original art.

Someone painted a single red warning against the far wall. They followed the stairs down, and these panels were undecorated but painted a dark brownish color that reminded of dried blood.

They discovered the two pillars the scribes described at the bottom of the stairs, just as the depicted on the scroll, but with a broken wall between them. The torches flickered and sizzled in a breeze that didn't exist, and they glanced at each other.

"I don't like this," Alena admitted, but her voice somehow seemed muted as if the walls absorbed the sound. Rowan fought the urge to turn on her heel and run outside like a scared child.

"Neither do I, but we have come this far," Marcus encouraged. He squared his shoulders, touched his sword, and entered the darkness. Alena followed him without hesitation, but Rowan hesitated. She felt eyes on her and thought Talmud might have joined them, but her torch revealed only shadows. Rowan frowned as dread broiled in her stomach, and she hurried after Alena.

The passage narrowed until they could only walk in single file and Marcus lighted the myriad of torches placed in niches against the walls. They ignited with ease and burned as if someone left them there the day before. Drawings covered the walls and ceiling, but this place appeared much older than the tomb above it.

Painted in blood, ochre, gold, brilliant yellows and faded blues the walls told the story of terror, the tale of a boy who grew to be a man and a monster. In some panels, the artist depicted him as a naked toddler playing in the water and just beside him always a dark shadow; after that, the water reflected his deeds.

Some drawings were almost childlike, but they gained structure and skill as the panels progressed. The tale depicted the terror brought down by a reign of destruction upon his people.

According to the panels he killed his mother with his birth by ripping from her womb before she was ready to give birth. Rowan surmised he had a thing with women because he seemed to hate them for their weakness. Perhaps he blamed his mother for dying?

"Dear heavens," Alena said with horrified fascination, and Marcus seemed angered by what he saw.

The central chamber had a domed roof, something none of the other tombs had. Near the top of the dome, the artist painted several women, and their features differed. Their wombs appeared ripped through, someone tore their breasts off and plucked their eyes out.

Nearer to the floor the artist rendered his makings; the turned that would live only a short while and then die. In another panel, near the center of the alcove, two women sat placidly at the feet of a man. This almost pastoral scene jarred amid the paintings of dying or dead soldiers, burnt towns, beheaded or maimed men. The tale of the destroyer and his destruction didn't fit with the peace of that single panel.