The Tomb Guardian (story) (Patreon)

This months story is set in Egypt and deals with Ancient Egyptian mythology. 

Irsu crouched behind the pillar in the darkness, his tail lashing silently behind him. Only the faintest light crept in from outside, but the two fennecs the cheetah was watching had entered the tomb carrying an oil lamp that cast long shadows through the antechamber. The fennecs were talking as they studied the hieroglyphics and the sealed door of the tomb.

“I was right. I knew this would be here. I believe this belonged to one of the pharaohs,” said one of the fennecs, the shorter one. Both were dressed in loose fitting desert clothing.

The taller fennec scratched at an ear. “You were right. I wonder if it’s been opened yet.”

“Hard to say. The entranceway looks like it was dug out recently, but the clay seal is intact,” said the short fennec, inspecting the rope that bound the doors to the tomb closed.

“Well, their loss then,” said the taller one. “With the treasure in here, we’ll be rich. We’ll no longer have to live on scraps.”

“Yeah, let me cut this rope off,” said the other fox, putting down the oil lamp.

Irsu stepped out from behind the pillar, lifting up his khopesh, creeping forward with the sickle-sword ready to strike. He’d seen enough. These two were tomb robbers, and it was his job to defend this place. His family had served Sethos III through many generations, passing the blade down through the family, and he was not about ready to shrink back from his ancestral duty.

Just as he started to swing the khopesh, the shorter fennec flicked an ear and turned. Irsu brought the blade down on the taller fennec who cried out in agony as he was struck in the shoulder. As the cheetah yanked the khopesh back, something silver flashed and the shorter fennec stabbed at him before backpaddling.

The fennec’s dagger sunk right between his ribs, and Irsu stumbled back. The taller fennec feebly tried to staunch the wound, but he quickly crumbled.

“This is our find!” snarled the smaller fennec.

“This is the property of Sethos III, He-Who-Pacifies-the-Heart-of-Ra,” spat Irsu, pressing his free hand against the wound in his flank. Blood oozed around his fingers to stain his yellow fur. “It is my duty to defend it.”

The fennec’s ears flicked. “Wait, I’ve seen you in the village before. You are from the Noor family. You keep to yourself. What are you doing here?”

Irsu snarled. “My family serves the Pharaoh.”

“What? This tomb is thousands of years old.” The short fennec glanced at his partner who was lying on the ground in a giant pool of blood. “And you killed my brother!” snarled the fox.

“You attacked my tomb!” yelled Irsu, leaping toward the fennec. His swing went wide, and the fennec easily dodged. 

As the fennec backed up, Irsu lunged forward. He closed the gap and swung again, bringing the blade across the fennec’s chest. As he struck the fox, he felt the dagger tear through his stomach. The cheetah’s eyes widened and he dropped the khopesh as he staggered. The fennec hit the floor, rolling to the side.

“Bastard…” sputtered the fennec as he lay coughing on the stone floor.

There was a growing sticky wetness in Irsu’s spotted fur. He stumbled over to the wall of the tomb and slipped down against the door, his blood smeared across the faded painting on the wall. He’d done his duty, but his blood quickly joined the pool of the blood from the first fennec he’d slain.

The cheetah closed his eyes, and slumped to the side, dead.

#

He awoke to lamplight in the tomb.  The dust and sand that covered the antechamber floor were gone. Instead of worn, faded paintings, the richly painted walls and ceiling were bright and fresh. The bodies of the fennecs were gone, and instead a figure cloaked in darkness stood over him. In one hand he carried a scepter with a curved head and ears, while in the other he carried an oil lamp.

“It has been a long, long time since someone has made this journey,” intoned a deep voice.

“Journey?” asked the cat, blinking to try and focus his eyes.

“Yes, the journey here. A thousand years at least, I think. Time gets a bit meaningless to someone like myself, but I imagine to you that means something. Now stand.”

Unsure of what was going on, the cheetah got up. He felt along his stomach. His wounds were gone.

“What is your name?”

“My name is…” he stumbled. He couldn’t remember.

“What is your name?” repeated the figure in black.

His ears fell. “I don’t remember.”

“Your family did not prepare the spells for you?”

“Spells?”

“The spells. Without the spells you can’t complete the journey. How did you get here?”

“I walk from the village to the tomb at night. I come here to guard it.”

The dark figure considered for a moment. “Where did you die?”

“In the tomb of Sethos III, fulfilling my duty.”

The dark figure was silent for a moment. “Ah yes, I remember him. It has been centuries since he came. His soul was too heavy though, and I had to feed him to Ammit. He was not worthy of entering Du’at.”

The cheetah was silent. The figure before him was not cloaked in darkness; he was pitch black, with tall canine ears. Gold glinted on him.

“I’m dead, and you’re…” the cheetah trailed off.

“Foremost of the Westerners, Master of Secrets, the Dog Who Swallows Millions… The titles go on and on, but yes, you are indeed dead, and I am here to weigh your heart. However, without the spells, you cannot pass into Du’at.”

His mother had told him about the old ways, the traditions his family still followed. He’d not really believed, but he’d followed the duty of his parents, and his grandparents, and those before. They’d given him a name older than anyone in the village had, and he honored it by doing the duty of his family. A name he could no longer remember.

“My apologies for having brought you here for nothing, Lord Anubis.”

The jackal shrugged. “As I said, no one has made the journey in a long time.” He pondered. “Who are your mother and father?”

“Nebet is my mother. She married Alif son of Mahmood.”

“Nebet. Are your parents still alive?”

“No. They both died a few years ago. We are a poor family and our crops failed when the Nile did not rise enough.”

The jackal god pondered. “They did not come to me, so it is unlikely they passed into Du’at. It is likely they went elsewhere when they died.”

“And me?”

“We will weigh your heart, but first I need to know who you were.”

“I can tell you my life, but my name is…” He couldn’t remember. Everything was there but his name.

The jackal pointed to the sealed door and walked over it. “We will borrow Sethos’s Book of the Dead. He has no need of it now.” Cradling the staff in the crock of his arm, he reached for the clay seal and spoke an incantation. The seal released, the rope falling harmlessly to the floor. Anubis touched the plaster wall and it dissolved. Carrying his staff and oil lamp, he entered the tomb and the cheetah followed.

Anubis frowned. Inside the tomb was empty. Everything that should have been there was gone, each room stripped bare. The treasury, the burial chamber, even the storm room, were all empty. The bright pictures and hieroglyphics depicting Sethos’s life covering the walls showed that the tomb had been completed, but none of the things that were meant to sustain his ka were present. Only a sarcophagus was present, its lid hanging partly off the base from when Sethos had awoken.

“Is it supposed to be empty?” asked the cheetah nervously.

“No,” said the jackal. “Someone replaced the seals after taking the goods out, or they buried him with nothing.” He held the oil lamp up and looked over the walls. Images of battle filled them. “I sense this is why his ka was too heavy. His deeds in life weighed down his heart in death.”

“My ancestors have guarded an empty tomb?” the cheetah said in disbelief.

The jackal turned. “Apparently so, for a very, very long time. If there was a Book of the Dead here, it has long since been taken.” He scanned the walls, walking along, until the jackal stopped at a small inscription. “Sethos was a vain man. He filled these walls with his deeds and only his deeds. I do not see a single depiction of his wife of parents in here. He was obviously a man who wanted to be remembered. He doesn’t seem to have many of the spells inscribed on the walls of his tomb, but the one to remember his name is right here.” The jackal pointed at some hieroglyphics.

The cheetah glanced at the spell. “I can’t read that. How is that going to help me remember my name is Irsu?”

The jackal smiled and the cheetah’s eyes got wide. “The mind knows. Irsu? It is a good name. Come, we shall weigh your ka now.”

He felt suddenly complete, and yet he was still not ready. “Aren’t the rest of the spells missing?” Isru asked.

“First things first,” said Anubis, leading Irsu back to the tomb’s antechamber. The room was now lit by multiple lamps, a set of large black scales with golden accents had appeared in the room. The ceiling had a beautiful blue and gold design he’d never noticed before, and it looked almost like the night sky in the light. A creature with the head of a crocodile, the mane and chest of a lion, and legs of a hippo waited to one side of the scales. “It is good of you to come now, Ammit. It has been age since we have done this,” spoke the jackal.

Ammit laughed, showing all the long teeth in her mouth. “It has been too long since I have eaten someone’s ka,” she rasped.

“First we see if he is worthy.” The jackal walked over to the scales, setting down the oil lamp. The cheetah followed Anubis, and Ammit watched intently as he passed. She waited patiently, leaning against one of the pillars in the tomb, as Anubis checked the scales and then pulled out a feather he had been carrying, tucked into his waistband.

The feather was white, and seemed almost to float in there in the air. Even to Irsu, he could tell it wielded great power.

“Irsu, son of Nebet and Alif, you stand before the scales to weigh your heart with the feather of truth Ma’at gives us. It is my duty to judge you, and you shall be judged. If you are worthy, I will think of what I can then do for you. Are you ready?”

“I… yes?” stammered Irsu. What else could he say?

The jackal nodded and walked up to the cheetah, and placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on his stomach. He whispered something and pulled his hand back. In it he held Irsu’s heart, his ka. Slowly it beat with Irsu’s life essence. The cheetah could only stare at it as Anubis placed it on one hanging platter, which tipped down. He then reached for the feather and placed it on the other platter.

Slowly the scales evened out.

The god nodded satisfied. “Do you know the forty-two negative confessions?”

“The what?”

“The forty-two things you should not do. Not commit robbery with violence. Not steal. Not slay men and women. Not curse the gods. The list goes on.”

“I killed two men in defense of this tomb,” whispered Irsu. As he spoke the balance of the scales wavered.

Anubis paused. “That was your duty though to do, was it not?”

Irsu nodded slowly, tail lashing behind himself, ears pinned back.

The god considered for a minute, watching the scales. He then reached for Irsu’s heart and picked it up. Almost imperceptibly, the scales tilted since the feather was the only thing on it. “I cannot ask you to do the confessions if you were never taught them. However, your heart does not bear witness against you, and you have made no preparations to lie. I deem you worthy.”

The cheetah sagged and Anubis walked back to the cheetah and placed his hand on his chest, giving Irsu back his ka.

“Thank you,” whispered Irsu, “but now what?”

“You complete the journey.” The jackal looked around expectantly, but there was no one else in the room. ”Ammit, where are the others?”

The chimera looked disappointed. “They did not come. Irsu has not completed any preparation for this journey. Thoth said he could not record his name because he never intended to make this trip.”

The jackal frowned, thinking.

“Is my heart too heavy?” asked Irsu, ears back.

“No.” Anubis walked around the tomb, inspecting the hieroglyphics in the antechamber. “You came to me because I was to judge any here.” He traced a hand across the wall. “Just like I judged Sethos.” The jackal stopped and glanced up and down.

“What is it?” asked Irsu.

“It’s the spells,” said Ammit.

“I thought the spells were missing?” asked Irsu.

Anubis traced his hands across the wall, carefully reading.

“It’s the spells, isn’t it,” repeated the crocodile chimera. “Sethos must have had them altered to suit his needs.”

“It’s more than just that. Sethos added his own.” The jackal turned around. “He made it so that anyone who lay here would be judged by me, and he bound your family to this place. So great was his hubris he thought he could cheat the truth of what Ma’at shows us, but so quickly did his heart betray him.”

“So, I’m trapped here?” asked Irsu.

“I can always free you,” suggested Ammit, her tongue licking one of her exposed fangs.

“Let me think,” said Anubis.

The cheetah walked up to the wall. “You said he bound my family to this place?”

“Yes. As long as your forefathers’ bloodline lived in the world above, they would be called to protect this tomb.”

“Not all my ancestors came here. My brother and sister have never been.”

“The spell must have weakened as the generations passed.”

“Can I leave?”

Ammit spoke up. “Even if you could pass into Du’at without the spells, you cannot go to Aaru, the field of reeds. Osiris will not accept you unless Thoth records your name.”

“Then?”

Anubis shook his head. “I cannot send you on your way. You will never be able to complete the journey.”

“Perhaps. I could go with you?” Irsu asked Anubis.

“Me?” he pondered. “It has been a long time since I ruled the underworld, but I can take certain liberties. Osiris would not object. Is that what you want?”

Irsu nodded. “It would be better than here.”

Ammit pushed off from the pillar. “I was hoping to just eat him,” she said, walking past them toward a door of light that appeared in the far wall. “Oh well, perhaps we’ll be rewarded with another someday.” She vanished through the light.

Irsu blinked at the doorway of light.

“Go. I’ll be right behind you,” Anubis said, pointing toward the doorway.

Hesitantly Irsu walked up to it. He turned around, but the jackal made a shooing motion. The cheetah walked through the light and was gone.

Anubis walked over to where the khopesh still lay on the floor and picked it up. The blade shone in the light. He went over to the wall where one of the spells Sethos had placed was inscribed, the one that called to those of the Noor family. With a whispered word of strength to the blade, he struck the wall with the khopesh until the name of the Noor’s had been chipped from the wall. No one would come here now. Sethos would be forgotten now by time.

Satisfied, he dropped the sickle-sword and the magic he’d used to reinforce it gave way. The blade shattered. Smiling, Anubis then walked to the portal of light. As he left, all the light in the room faded and darkness swallowed the tomb as sand started to fill it.