The Blood Debt Chronicles

The Case of the Missing Mummy

Chapter the Sixteenth or How Cat Located the Sarcophagus and Where Things Went From There

The brown stones had a gritty feel under the soft touch of Cat's fingertips. They felt like the dirt from the bank of the Thames, except the granules were smaller and cleaner. This struck Cat as strange. Normally, everything in the sewers was disgusting and much of it had a pustulous quality, sometimes even hispid[1]. The grey stone walls were slick with mold, moss and many other foul things. The very air was foul. Except here. The air was still bad, but the putrid filth ended when the blocks changed to sandstone.

"Why isn't there slime here?" Cat turned her head, looking back at Dravan. That doesn’t even consider that I’ve covered every inch of the London sewers on foot and never seen stones like this. She glared hard at the stones; I should have noticed an area like this being built, especially so close to my lands.

A small smile tugged at Dravan's lips, but he held it back, "The slime in the sewers may be foul, but it is still living. This place is cursed, nothing grows in it." "How do you know?" Professor Omar asked. Sweat glistened on his brow. He dabbed it with a handkerchief.

Dravan wiggled his fingers, "Magic." The floating orb that illuminated the sewers for them twinkled suggestively, briefly changing from white light to purple, red, blue and green, before returning to white.

Anya rolled her eyes while Cat turned a snicker into a cough.

Cat waved a hand at the others, trying to tell them to stop. It took the nobility being grabbed by Mr. Taurus to notice that they were to stop.

"What is it, lad?" Lord Longfellow asked.

Cat ignored his comment. She crouched down, her curious fingers exploring the floor. She leaned forward, now on her hands and knees. She leaned in and blew gently, exposing a curious metal device. Sweat was beading at her brow. Bloody hell. She glanced toward the wall. This is the activation switch for a trap that spans the entire opening of the sandstone area!

"What's the hold up."

Cat gritted her teeth and leaned back. "Trap."

Anya sighed loudly.

“Well,” Cat said, with exaggerated patience the way Lady MacNeal did when she was talking to particularly stupid people, “If you’d like, I can retreat back to the sewers and you can activate this trap. I believe you would all be incinerated,” she was pleased that she could recount that word, she had heard it used before and liked the way it felt on her tongue, “excepting of course, Master Dravan, who I expect could shield himself or something of the like.”

Lord Farcical whistled softly. “That is quite the expensive trap to put in.” He surveyed the area Cat had mentioned, “What if a rat triggered it? Resetting that many incineration traps… someone has quite the benefactor.”

Cat shrugged, “I don’t think they’ve needed to actually.” She nodded to Dravan, “I’ve been down here before and never seen anything like this; is it possible that someone magicked the area?”

Dravan nodded, as Cat returned to disarming the trap, “Indeed, although that wouldn’t change the fact that they have wealthy benefactors. Having a few mages to enchant this area so that no one noticed it would be expensive, but it would also be more effective than simply killing everyone who entered.”

Lord Longfellow was still pale after learning that he was nearly burned alive. “Should we get the police? Certainly, they are better equipped for this?”

Professor Omar nodded vigorously, “I absolutely agree.”

Dravan snorted, “Gentlemen, no one is better equipped than I.”

When Cat began moving forward again, her eyes searching for traps, Dravan was the first to step out after her. Mr. Taurus, who knew his place was not to speak with the nobility had kept his mouth shut during this discussion. He was finding that he was unimpressed with the courage of these wealthy fops. Even Lord Farcical seemed to be behaving more cowardly than he expected.

Mr. Taurus knew Lord Farcical from before Lord MacNeal’s death, so he knew the man wasn’t a coward. Is he playing at something for the sake of the other lords? It was possible. Mr. Taurus knew he didn’t understand all the games that the nobility played. He tried, of course, to get a better understanding, but he just wasn’t used to all the intrigue. He was much more a man of the sword, or fist as the case may be. But Mr. Taurus knew that his lack was a danger to Lady MacNeal, so he tried to correct it.

Cat paused when she began to hear faint voices, but she couldn’t quite make out the words with the people behind her talking. She gestured for the group to stop again. “Please, wait here. I need to check ahead for traps and such.” Once she was certain they would stay put, she crept around a corner and crawled ahead. She heard Dravan exclaim, “Anya! This is no time for you tittupic[2]attitude!” and then she was around the corner. It was as quite as if they had never been.

Cat found multiple stone doors with carvings that reminded her of the artifacts at the Pickerings. She checked them, most had a simple trap on them that would most likely inject a poison or toxin into the hand of the opener. She almost disarmed one before a thought arose to her mind, Every trap I disarm is time I’m trusting self important nobles to wait. She sighed internally, I’ll have to come back later and search the place. There was no telling what traps could be placed on the other side of the doors, she didn’t have time to be as careful as she needed.

After the hall of doors, she came to a large open room. Iron braziers were lit and sweet smells rose from them. Baskets hung suspended from the towering ceiling, the slithering hisses that came from the baskets echoed in the cavern. I didn’t realize we descended… She looked at how high the room was, trying to determine far down they were. At least two… no, three stories... She blanched. So far down? We need to be on the lookout for ghouls. Maybe I won’t come back here. It was uncommon to see ghouls on the topmost layer of sewer tunnels, but obviously they came up to the “surface” of the sewer system. Every level they descended made it more likely to run into the voracious creatures.

At the far end of the room, there was a door much like the ones she had already passed except that instead of sandstone, this was gold. Most likely gilt. That’s an awful lot of gold in one spot.

Two voices drifted out to her, “yes, of course I made sure to lose them.”

“Excellent.” There were some muffled sounds, as if they were walking together among rooms and hadn’t settled yet.

This was a much deeper voice, “…boy tracking?”

“…cobras sorted out that problem.” The words were pronounced with a distinct laughing hiss.

Not bloodly likely. Cat thought to herself as she crept forward. As she passed through the room, she noted how the baskets hung. That it would only take a sword stroke to release them. Don’t think I’ll use them. Tipping one of the braziers over was much more likely, even though it would be more time intensive for her small body.

A throaty chuckle sounded.

“Good.” A third voice said, “Now we must await the high priest. As soon as he can step away from his engagement, we shall begin the ritual to resurrect our leader.” The sounds of their movements were coming toward the door.

Cat crept back to the group.

“Any traps lad?” Lord Longfellow asked. Whatever had occurred while she was away, it seemed to have given him confidence. He stood straighter and his eyes seemed clearer.

Cat shook her head, “I’ve sorted all them. But it sounds like the snake bloke has a few friends.”

Professor Omar asked, “Oh? Did they say who these fellows were?”

Cat looked at the man quizzically; I didn’t say they weren’t all there… “I didn’t get eyes on them, no. So I’m not certain of their look.”

“Pity.” The professor of Egyptology said, his voice indicating anything but.

Mr. Taurus raised an eyebrow.

Lord Farcical asked, “Did you get a count on them, lad?”

I think I prefer Lord Farcical when he is acting like he did this morning. Gathering information and such, rather than when he’s trying to be a follower and a fop. She shook her head, “No, my lord, I heard three voices. But what with that snakeman being so large… I couldn’t hear much other than him moving on the ground. Excepting, of course, I did hear very heavy steps. But I don’t know what they were.”

Mr. Taurus wished the nobles had left things to him and Dravan. Course, Master Dravan is a lord… but he’s our lord and he doesn’t mind you speaking, assuming you ain’t stupid. He cleared his throat, “Pardon me, Master Dravan, but footsteps that heavy, could they be an ogre? It’s obviously not a minotaur, after all, my hooves are clopping on the stone. Cat would have heard a sharp sound.”

Dravan nodded.

“An ogre!” Professor Omar exclaimed. “That sounds rather dangerous!” His voice was rising along with his color.

Lord Longfellow had paled at the word “ogre”, but had been able to keep his composure. “My dear man,” he said addressing the professor, “keep your voice down. We don’t want them to overhear us.”

Mr. Taurus and Cat winced internally. They had thought that was already a forgone conclusion.

Dravan smiled slyly, “That’s not really a concern, I heard the absurd racket we” he clearly meant “you”, his attempt at being polite only made the other men blush with shame, “were making in the sewer portion and so cast an enchantment to dampen our sounds once you got some distance away.” Dravan noted which one of the frightened men was relieved and which only grew more concerned.

“That explains why I couldn’t hear much from behind me.” Cat’s brow furrowed. That man is a genius. How does he think to care for so much? She turned back toward their enemies; I hope I can become as skilled as he is.

Dravan waved his hand, “Please, gentlemen, let’s follow young Cat here to our destination so we can confront these brigands.”

Cat led them down the sandstone hall. She warned them of the traps then ignored the doors that led off to the sides. When she led them into the large chamber, a seven foot tall ogre was handling one of the hanging baskets. The dusky skinned ogre was wearing a white shendyt[3]that appeared to have gold trim. The snakeman, who was slithering into the room from the back, was wearing the headdress stolen from the Pickerings. Two humans, with swarthy skin and ebony hair, also in shendyt though theirs were unadorned, carried pots filled with incense. There were two burlap sacks by the back door. Both were overflowing with Egyptian relics: bracelets, goblets, scarabs, etc.

The ogre noticed them first, “Hey!” He grabbed the basket and hurled the contents toward the lords, while shouting over his shoulder. “I thought you lost them!”

The serpentman cursed, pointed a finger and hissed something. The snakes, which had been sailing through the air like inert ropes, suddenly began to twist with purpose. One even twisted itself so that it could spit venom at Dravan.

Dravan flicked his wrist and the venom flew into the eyes of one of the humans. The man screamed a terrible sound and began to claw at his eyes. He fell to his knees, blood and pus streaming through his fingers.

Dravan waved his left hand and the snakes were blown back toward the ogre. The immediate danger to himself passed, he began to wave his fingers and chant in earnest. Blue, red and purple sparks danced off his fingers. No one noticed he hadn’t cut himself, nor was anyone adept enough at magic to know that the spell he was casting was pulling much more power than it normally should. Exponentially more power.

The ogre charged at Dravan, trying to interrupt his casting, but Mr. Taurus returned the charge. For a moment it seemed he had forgotten his horns were cut and capped, at the last moment he pulled a knife and attempted to gut the ogre. The ogre must have seen the glint of the blade from the flickering braziers, because he jumped back with a startled curse.

While the two toughs grappled and sliced at one another, the serpentman shouted hisses; he was clearly directing the cobras in their attacks. Cat took one look at the snakes and backed up.

Nope. She looked around the room, remembering the braziers. She snuck around the combat and climbed up the scaffolding. Once she was up, she began to kick at it, trying to knock it lose from its anchorage.

The second human hesitated for a moment, as if he didn’t trust the serpentman to protect him from the cobras, before beginning to wade through the snakes to get at the nobles. Lord Farcical stepped forward to intercept the human, but jumped back again when a cobra struck at him. He shifted his pistol to his left hand and shot the head off one of the serpents.

The serpentman pulled a dagger and threw it at Dravan, attempting again to interrupt his casting, but the beastman hadn’t counted on Lord Farcical’s experience. He snatched it out of the air and returned it. The snakeman was surprised by its return and only was able to deflect it away from his face into one of his arms.

“I have no time for this! Handle it!” The serpent, cradling his arm, not bothering to remove the dagger, wrapped his tail around the sarcophagus and pulled it through a door at the end of the great hall.

The professor began to have a panic attack. He was screaming and retreating from the cobras. His words were unintelligible to anyone there. Except of course, Anya, who recognized his screams were in the Egyptian language, not Arabic, but Ancient Egyptian. It took her a moment to process, because although she knew all the characters in the pictorial language, she hadn’t had many opportunities to hear it spoken. Her memory was eidetic, she could recall clearly anything seen, but that didn’t mean she could always comprehend what she heard.

She couldn’t understand why he would be yelling, “Don’t hurt me I am one of you.” However, with the snakes approaching, she began to fire at the snakes, hoping to kill one like Lord Farcical. Unfortunately, none of her shots connected with anything other than stone.

The professor stumbled backward, knocking into Dravan. The sparks around his hands fizzled for a moment as he shoved Professor Omar off of himself. The lights sprayed out wildly, burning everything they came into contact with. Fortunately, they landed harmlessly on the stone or profitably on the snakes and blinded man. He was sprawled on the floor, his hands fallen away from his face revealing his retrobulbar[4]. The blind man had stopped screaming or moving and though his shendyt caught fire, he made no move to put it out. The stink of burning flesh and hair rose from his body.

Once the flames caught on organic matter they seemed impervious to the laws of science. The multicolored fire burned all the flesh until it hit the stone, at which point it snuffed out. It consumed the matter quickly, in the span of time it took Mr. Taurus to block a punch, everything the sparks had touched were gone.

“You fool!” Dravan yelled, “You could have killed us all!”

Cat finished kicking over the brazier onto the last human, who shrieked and began trying to brush embers off himself. Anya aimed and fired her pistol at the burning man. But her hands were shaking so much; she struck the ogre in the chest instead. The ogre looked down at the blood bubbling out of his chest, stunned. Mr. Taurus wasn’t taking any chances; he made a horizontal cut across the ogre’s gut, spilling the cult member’s guts out onto the floor. It was as close to a kill strike as he could get, given the size difference.

The ogre tried to catch his organs, but they were slick and slipped through his fingers. The giant collapsed onto his knees before falling to his side. Mr. Taurus felt bad for the man; he knew that a belly wound was a terrible way to die. He moved to the ogre’s head and slit his throat.

Lord Longfellow pulled a sword from his cane and rested the tip against the human’s throat. “Your friends are dead, surrender.”

The man’s face was badly burned, but with angry, hard eyes he looked at the lord. “I serve only my master, the god Apophis.” He threw himself onto the blade Lord Longfellow had pressed against him. The blade slashed his carotid artery and blood spurted forward, spraying the lord’s fine clothes.

Longfellow pulled his sword back in horror. “I… I… I tried to…”

Farcical patted his shoulder, “You offered him surrender and he didn’t take it. There is no shame on your blade.” I’m glad his first comment wasn’t about his clothes. Lord Farcical had known many nobles who would be more concerned about their clothes than a man’s death.

Cat pushed her way through the heavy door at the end. It looked like a fairly sparse, priest’s room. There was a bed, big enough for the snakeman and the beginning of a tunnel. She poked her head into it, but it had been collapsed. I think I could fit. But as she thought about the possibility of cobras and asps waiting for her in the cramped spaces she decided that it was probably too tight for her after all. After a look around the room, she found a satchel that had fallen under the bed. She stuffed it into her clothes before exiting the room.

“The bloke’s escaped through a tunnel. It’s fallen in now, too small for anyone to sneak through.” Cat gestured to the sacks by the door, “These look like most of the trinkets from the Pickerings.”

“Excepting the headdress and the sarcophagus, I believe you are correct, lad.” Lord Farcical picked up the sacks and then straightened, “Well, lads. It was a good run of things. Let’s return to the Pickerings and make our report.”

Dravan set his hand on Cat’s shoulder, “Search the rooms.” He handed her a vial, “If you are bitten by anything or pricked, drink this and it will counter any poison. When you are finished, come to me with your findings. I except I will be at my sister’s house for the next day.”

She nodded before disappearing to do his bidding. The rest returned to the surface. Their clothes were fouled. Every stitch would have to be thrown away, down to their pants.

[1]Rough with stiff hair or bristles

[2]To frolic or kick up one’s heels

[3]A kilt-like garment worn in ancient Egypt. It was made of cloth and was worn around the waist, typically extending to above the knees.

[4]The space behind the eyeball