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| About the Book |
WHAT IF - the Yellowstone Supervolcano were to blow its top?
Well, it just had. North America becomes a desperate post-apocalyptic world.
Egyptologist
Dr. Naunet Wilkins and her scientist husband Jonathan, together with Dr. William
Jefferson Browning and a young friend, Sam Fahey, accept an offer from the
prominent Egyptian archaeologist Dr. Jabari El-Masri, who himself has found
refuge on a Venezuelan penal island owned by the shady art collector Lorenzo
Dominguez.
The
latter’s luxurious estate and a refurbished ghost ship (the real former Russian
M/S Lyubov Orlova) crawling with cannibal rats, become their prisons.
Did El-Masri barter the stolen ancient golden tablets and his American friends’ expertise in exchange for his own exile?
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| enjoy an excerpt |
Chapter 18
Heads together, they leaned over the
inlaid mosaic table on the shaded terrace. Because of their whispered intense
conversation, they completely missed the approach of the heavy-set man.
“Working hard I see!”
Four heads jerked up in unison.
“Hey, Jabari, where did you spring
from?” Sam called out. He jumped up and pulled another rattan chair close to
the table. “Here, take a load off.”
The profusely sweating man took off
his fedora and looked at the foursome for a few seconds before wiping his
forehead with a crisp white handkerchief. Then he plopped heavily into the
proffered chair.
“Have some lemonade,” Sam said, his
boyish face open, his eyes solicitous. “Man, this is what I call hot’n-humid.”
Naunet, Jonathan and Bill tried to
hide their annoyance not only over the inopportune appearance of the Egyptian,
but because of his rude challenge. No smile had accompanied his terse
reprimand. They had indeed been working hard for months, every day, and a brief
break should not be invoking sarcasm, especially not from Jabari who had been
absent most of the time. Still, they felt guilty. Not for drinking lemonade or
taking a break in the fresh air, but for plotting their escape. The question
was, what about Jabari? Should they include him in their daring plan?
For the last six months, Naunet had
slaved over those golden slates. They had arrived at her doorstep as if by
conveyor belt and she had been allowed barely three days to translate each one.
And this very morning, she had finished putting Lorenzo’s photograph together
with the translation for tablet number fifty. It was the last one, and a very
special one for her. It should have never been brought back up from the depths
of the Mediterranean. She felt as if she had stolen from the other Naunet,
goddess of the sea, now once again unappeased and perhaps waiting to take her
revenge on them.
It was because of having worked on
the tablet before she only needed to recheck the translation she had already
done on Crete. That last and most intense writing damned a culture gone bad
through avarice, greed and debauchery. The curses still rang in her ears. She
wondered what Lorenzo would think about them once she handed over the completed
leather-bound, gold-embossed folder he had provided. It was quite conceivable
the man’s twisted mind would believe ten thousand year-old predictions should
be relevant in their day and age. He fully assumed some of the
fire-and-brimstone predictions had already been unleashed that Christmas
morning when Yellowstone blew.
After all she had endured, she cared
little what Jabari thought at the moment. She finally had to get this off her
chest—or turn into an erupting volcano herself.
“I finished everything this morning,
Jabari. And no thanks to you, I must say. Where were you during the last week?
I could have used some assistance.” The moment she uttered the last word, she
noticed the Egyptian’s chin jutting straight out. Holding her temper in check,
she quickly changed her tone. “I really had hoped you would confirm my
translation. Especially the last tablet’s. It’s the most revealing, as you can
guess. I have it inside. Jonathan can bring it out if you want to have a look
now.”
At the last second, Naunet
remembered the tablet was still in the backpack that Jabari had hauled in when
he came upon her argument with Edward. And because of the Crete translation,
she hadn’t needed to look at it again. If Jabari realized she had not touched
the slate, he would find it more than odd.
The Egyptian pushed away from the
table and crossed his arms in front of him. His black eyes bore into Naunet who
felt herself engulfed in some inexplicable panic. Within an instant, this man
was no longer their friend Jabari, but had reverted back to the autocratic Dr.
El-Masri, Egypt’s pharaoh, lording
over all of his country’s antiquities—and everyone who dared to be around them.
“My dear Dr. Klein.”
When Jonathan heard his wife being
pointedly addressed by her maiden name, he too sensed Jabari had changed, and
not for the better. He and Bill exchanged a quick look. Both sat up in their
chairs, but decided to stay out of the uncomfortable exchange.
“My dear Dr. Klein,” El-Masri said
again. “Do you really think I would let you work away blithely without checking
up on your work?” When he saw Naunet’s face getting flushed at his words—blithely being the most insulting—he
added, “By the way, I must admit, your work is fairly good.”
The only sound on the terrace came
from the rustling leaves of the surrounding banana palms. The wind was
freshening and dark clouds scudded overhead, drawing foreboding shadows onto
the terracotta pattern.
Naunet stiffened. “My dear Dr.
El-Masri.” Reverting back to her formal European ways, Naunet addressed the man
opposite her in a similarly pointed manner, her voice clear and sharp. If the
confounded man was fluent in hieratic script, why had he asked her down here?
Come to think of it, why had he demanded she come to Cairo two years ago for
the same reason? She was truly incensed; and powerless like a trapped gazelle.
“As I just told you: I finished the
last tablet and my binder is inside. I’ll be happy to get it for you. I am sure
you prefer to take it to your master yourself.”
She saw Jabari flinch. Good. Was he being pressured by Lorenzo?
Or blackmailed, with Zahra on the ship and his son marooned on Santiago Island?
Suddenly, Naunet felt sorry for the man. The feeling vanished as soon as he
spoke again.
“You seem incapable to grasp that
those ancient words, first woven into fading mats of colored grasses, and then
chiseled onto the High Priest’s golden tablets, confirm what I have believed
all my life: We Egyptians did not spring from some sub-Saharan culture, nor
from a primitive Noba tribe. When will you people get it through your thick
heads: We are not a black race.”
“Whoa, easy there, my friend.” Bill
assumed Jabari was trying to refute an insistent belief among some of the
scientific community concerning the origin of the ancients. “When you say ‘we
Egyptians,’ do you mean the people preceding you modern-day Arabs?”
“How dare you! You Americans have no
clue about archaeology; or history, for that matter. You may call yourself
scientists, but what do you know about us!” The man before them exploded like a
hot geyser. Spittle had formed in the corners of his mouth and his chest heaved
as if he had difficulty breathing. His face was a mottled mask of red and
purple blotches.
Sam’s mouth fell open. He had never
seen anyone blow up like this and wished he were someplace else, preferably
with Maria. On the other hand, this display of unbridled passion and arrogance
was fascinating. Still, he moved his chair further back in case glasses started
flying off the table.
“I bet,” El-Masri pointed his finger
at Naunet, “I just bet you omitted to write down where the ancients came from.
Just so your lily-white world would not have to admit my ancestors came from
Crete!”
“We don’t know for sure where they
came from,” Naunet said quietly but with authority. She was no longer in the
mood to appease this man and his unfolding attack on her work or her chosen
country even if she was technically still a citizen of Austria. “The one
sentence mentioning the ancients’ origin disappeared with the missing corner of
the first tablet. I am sure you remember, it was knocked off in your Cairo lab,
and then mysteriously vanished from there.”
“It was Crete,” El-Masri sputtered. His fist hit the table to make it
clear this was as good as a proven fact as far as he was concerned.
“We emerged from the Ideon Cave.”
His dark eyes swept toward the sky.
He stretched his hands high above his head and, in a sing-song voice not unlike
an ancient high priest, he intoned,
“I sprang from the birthplace of
Zeus.
“I am the fruit of Zeus.
“I. Am. A demigod.”
Had the man gone mad? They sat in
stunned silence until Sam jumped up. “Right on, Jabari!” He slapped the
Egyptian hard on the back. “Man, what a performance. You should’ve been an
actor.” He clapped his hands together and crowed, “Bravo!” In his youthful
irreverence, he had managed to defuse a situation from which the only exit
would have been embarrassment.
Jabari came off his high horse—or out of Zeus’s cave, as it were. Naunet stopped pouting and quietly settled her ruffled feathers. Bill nodded to Sam, mumbling ‘out of the mouths of babes.’ Jonathan stuck his hands deeper into his pockets. It would not do to bash the arrogant bugger’s teeth in. Not now when their secret plans to set sail were at stake, even though they might be heading straight into the maws of a hurricane. One thing was certain. Those plans would not include Jabari. ...
http://devilwinds.blogspot.com/
(Read five revealing “Fact in Fiction” articles.)
ON SALE March
6-13, 2024
99c/p Each
Borg’s 5-Novel
Legends of the Winged Scarab Series
Writing the series was fun, with the research rabbit-holes at times frustrating, but eventually (after several years) very satisfying.
My one regret:
I had signed up for a
Tour
to Egypt with the San Diego, California, Museum of Arts. Having turned into a
less insouciant woman over the years, I cancelled due to unrest and attacks on
tourists at the time.
The tour went ahead; they all came back alive, quite happy having participated.
* * *
Thank you,
Helen, for providing space, time and enormous effort on your Blog showcasing
the Legends of the Winged Scarab Series.
My pleasure Inge :-)
You might also like
books written by Helen Hollick
Website: https://helenhollick.net/
Amazon Author Page: https://viewauthor.at/HelenHollick
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| Coffee Pot Book Club Bronze Award2022 |
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| The story of the events that led to The Battle of Hastings in 1066 Harold the King (UK edition) I Am The Chosen King (US edition) 1066 Turned Upside Down an anthology of 'What If'' tales |
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| The Forever Queen (US edition) a USA TODAY BESTSELLER A Hollow Crown (UK edition) |
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| Book 1 -THE KINGMAKING Coffee Pot Book Club Bronze Award 2023 |
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THE PENDRAGON's BANNER TRILOGY |
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| US editions |
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Historical Stories of Exile by 13 popular authors Cryssa Bazos, Anna Belfrage, Elizabeth Chadwick, Cathie Dunn, J.G. Harlond, Helen Hollick, Loretta Livingstone, Amy Maroney Alison Morton, Charlene Newcomb, Elizabeth St.John, Marian L Thorpe, Annie Whitehead. With an introduction by Deborah Swift |
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The mystery of Ancient Egypt continues to fascinate us!
ReplyDeleteIndeed, Alison. I don't believe the sands have given up all their secrets yet. I am especially fascinated by the forbidden "Lost Labyrinth of Egypt" as imagined in my "Crystal Curse" (Book 4).
ReplyDeleteI love the tension in the excerpt above. Brava! When it comes to Ancient Egypt, what most impresses me is for how long this country was a power to be reckoned with.
ReplyDelete