“Soul Thief” Excerpt
Retrieving two small hearth sticks from my bag, I rubbed them together, allowing the friction to light my torch as I waited for Moises and Eshaq, the newest member, to join us. Memet and Husani remained above ground with the assignment to remain cautiously alert.
I ducked my head to proceed through the men’s handiwork. The tunnel led directly to the antechamber. Lifting my flame, I studied the writings on the wall. The engraved images of life and death exploded in vibrant colors and because the artisans finished the tomb hastily, the paint still appeared wet. Upon entering the burial chamber, three sarcophagi lay side by side—two, the length of adults and one, a child.
The others entered, and with one look from me, Moises turned to Eshaq. “Do not disturb the child,” he commanded forcefully.
“But it could yield additional treasure,” Eshaq argued.
Unknown breezes made our flames dance, and the Nubian appeared terrifying in the shadows. Images of Moises, the warrior, transpired as his deep voice rumbled with caution, “Not the child.”
Eshaq, being new to our company, had not yet seen Moises provoked to anger. The young objector didn’t say another word, but I saw him trembling as he moved toward me and the largest limestone coffin.
I set the torch beneath the corners and waited until the clastic rock caught fire. Moises doused the flame with a small jar of river water. With the hilt of a dagger, he smashed the now weakened limestone to pieces, exposing the intricately wrapped feet of the father.
I repeated the process on the next mummy, assumed to be the mother. Eshaq pulled the man from his coffin and Moises began cutting the well-wrapped linens in very specific places. We had done these enough times to know precisely where the priests hid the amulets.We worked quickly to minimize the foul smell that emerged upon exposure of the tissues. That, and the rapid descent of insects scurrying from the cracks in the tomb, wanting to feed upon the now unprotected dead.
Glancing over to Moises, I watched his large hands work with the exactness of a craftsman, reverent and precise, while Eshaq bent over beside him, studying his every move.
As I turned my attentions to the woman, I studied the smooth linens that shrouded her face. I never exposed the mummies’ eyes, imagining the curses the corpse would bring if they could see me. Regardless of my singular caution, the piercing eyes of the deceased somehow navigated the depths of the underworld and still found me in my dreams.
I laid my gloved hand over her head and prayed to the God Anubis that he may forgive my trespasses and that the family might not seek their revenge upon me in the afterlife. Regardless of my plea, if my heart weighed more than the feather of the Goddess Maat, Osiris would not even find me worthy of eternal life.
Cutting the fabric at her throat, I exposed an expertly crafted necklace. An extremely fine chain linking gold ball-beads together. But the veritable fortune centered the necklet—a gold scarab inlaid with green feldspar and lapis lazuli. Unique pieces like this were harder to move in the underground market, but when they did, their yield was unparalleled. I unclasped the stunning jewels and placed them in the side bag slung across my chest. Repeating the process at both wrists, I discovered two faience beaded bracelets and a silver ring on her finger.
Slicing through the textiles at the woman’s chest, I retrieved the meket—her protectors—from her cavities. The items represented a typical noble burial. Compiled treasures included a turquoise ankh, an obsidian figurine of taweret—the goddess of childbirth, and a glass djed pillar—the symbolic backbone of Osiris. Following their removal, I retrieved fabric strips from my bag and laid them across the body to conceal the openings. It would not protect her in the afterlife now that I had stripped her of her safeguards, but it brought a slight ease to my soul.
Moving past the hand-painted travertine canopic jars that contained the liver, lungs, stomach, and intestines, I reached for the alabaster jars that stored additional offerings. Items such as gold and silver coins, a human-headed scarab, and an ivory-handled flint knife. A ritual vase painted with the image of a drunken Sekhmet, the lion goddess, revealed honey cakes and sweet wine. And near the proper entrance of the chamber, miniature golden statues of Serket and Isis rested below the jackal carved image of Anubis guarding the chamber from evildoers.
We had only been in the tomb a short time when the signal came from above to depart. The low-key whistle pierced the cavern with intensity. We swiftly gathered what we could carry and left the rest of the treasure untouched. Torn between reasoning and respect, I could only hope that the remaining trove was enough to please the gods in protecting the deceased.
One by one, we came up the chute the same way we went down. Flattening the wooden pieces of the winch, we heard voices emerge through the darkness as if they approached and rolled flush to the ground.
In the valley next to the Nile River where kings, pharaohs, and their court are laid to rest, lamenting sounds of grief bounced off the peaks and amplified. This was the precise reason one must raid a tomb on the night of a burial. The sounds that transpired effectively masked our scheme.
Release Date TBD