T. A. Chase

Anubis

Anubis copyright c. 2015 T.A. Chase

Part Eleven-

He dropped the paper he’d been studying and glared at Jamil, who laughed and shook his head.

“Dude, you’re jumpy today. Maybe I should wear bells or something to let you know when I’m near,” Jamil suggested.

“No. I was thinking about something else,” Anubis said, forcing his mind back to the present and not dwelling on his past memories. He couldn’t afford to get caught up in them. At least not right then.

“What had you thinking so hard?” Jamil pulled out the chair next to Anubis, then sat. He propped his chin on his hand as he stared at him.

“Just old memories of when I last heard this language spoken,” Anubis admitted. He didn’t have to say when that was.

“Did your tribe used to speak it?”

He could see the gleam in Jamil’s eyes. The man wanted to study Anubis, to learn all he could from him, and while Anubis would usually be willing to talk about the things his ‘tribe’ had passed down to him, the secrets of Petra were his to keep.

“Yes. The young people of my tribe are scattered throughout the world now, but there are a few elders who still speak this language and know our stories. When I was young, I understood the importance of keeping our past alive, so I begged them to teach me.” Anubis stared at the jars, but he was seeing Rahkoum, his grandfather, frowning at him when he pronounced a word wrong. His knuckles stung in phantom pain from being struck by a reed if he spoke poorly while talking to his grandfather.

“My grandfather was a scholar, as much as any of my tribe could be called one,” he clarified. “I guess you would call them storytellers nowadays. He was the one who taught me.”

Jamil tilted his head. “You were close to your family?”

Anubis huffed. “Not really. I was close to my grandfather until I came of age, then I was needed to guard the herds and go on raids.”

He bit his tongue. The nomadic tribes still around in this century didn’t raid any more. Now that the world was more civilized, those who lived in the cities frowned upon those activities. Hell, most of them thought nomads were heathens and beneath their city brothers.

“Does your tribe pray to Allah?”

“Are they Islamic or heathens who worship the old gods? Is that what you want to know?” Anubis turned to meet Jamil’s curious gaze. “They have accepted the new religion.”

“New religion? Islam has been around for centuries. It isn’t new,” Jamil pointed out.

Anubis nodded, acknowledging Jamil’s statement. “That’s true, but my tribe has been around since before Mohammed established Islam. We accepted Allah as our true god, yet we still respect and honor the old gods that called the desert home.”

“Covering your bases, huh?”

“You could say that.” Anubis looked back at the paper he’d written the inscription down on. “The writing states who the jars belong to and when they died.”

Jamil hummed, obviously trying to encourage Anubis to keep talking. He didn’t want to say anything more, but he needed to stay in Jamil’s good graces in case the man discovered more artifacts. There might be things uncovered Anubis needed to take back to Scotland and keep out of enemies’ hands.

“The organs in this jar,” he pointed to the larger more elaborately decorated one. “They belong to Prince Okilma’s wife. I’m not entirely sure when she died or how. It doesn’t say, but she was only nineteen.”

“How do you know that? And who the hell is Prince Okilma? There’s no record of him in any books I’ve read.” Jamil pursed his lips as he thought.

“His reign wasn’t very long,” Anubis muttered. “The smaller jar holds the organs of Prince Okilma’s young son. The boy was only five years old when he died.”

Jamil leaned back. “How do you know that?”

Swallowing, he tried to think about how to cover up what he said. There was no way he could know that. “I might have heard something in my tribe’s legends about the prince.”

“Really?” Jamil’s eyes lit up. “I would love to hear all those legends, especially if they’re about a previously unknown prince. At least, we have proof that he existed.”

“Actually what you have is my word about what this writing says,” Anubis informed him while gesturing toward the canopic jars. “I could be making this all up.”

Jamil laughed and shrugged. “You could be, but you wouldn’t have the reputation of being a honest man if you were going to lie to me about anything. Plus UNESCO wouldn’t allow you to work as a consultant for them if they doubted you.”

That was true. Yet Anubis had every intention of fudging his stories to make sure Jamil didn’t learn the entire truth of what had gone on all those thousands of years ago. Luckily, Jamil would never think Anubis’s knowledge was anything other than legends, not first hand.

“Do you know anyone else who could collaborate what you think this says? Are there any of your tribal elders near that I could talk to?” Jamil eyed him with a rather knowing look in his eyes.

“Unfortunately the answer is no to both of those questions. The elders of my tribe wouldn’t come near here or Petra for that matter. To them, spirits haunt the place and they see no reason to visit there. There are very few elders left who read this language. My grandfather was one of the last and he died years ago.” Anubis wasn’t lying about that. He just kept out how many years it had been since his grandfather lived.

Jamil swore softly. “Damn. Well, I guess we’ll have to go on your translation, though I’ll start sending out emails. Maybe there’s someone we don’t know about out there who can read it.”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t worried about that.

::I’m going to send Thoth to you. He’ll be an expert and also be there to support you if need be.::

::You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.:: He didn’t want one of his brothers there, watching over his shoulder.

Isis’s sigh echoed through his mind. ::Jamil wants proof that what you said is the truth. This way he’ll have it without anyone else interfering.::

He didn’t argue, knowing it was worthless. Isis did what he wanted and the only one who wasn’t subjected to his manipulations was Sekhmet.

Friday, March 27th, 2015, by , Filed under: Anubis,Earth Warriors,Free story| | 2 Comments

Anubis

Anubis copyright c. 2015 T.A. Chase

Part Ten-

And for centuries now, they’d been warriors for their gods and goddesses. Throughout the years they’d lived, doing whatever they were bid, they’d learned how important education was to make a person feel like they were worth something.

“I’m impressed, Mr. Al Hazzan.” Jamil tossed a smile back at him before stopping in front of a door. “I haven’t met a lot of people in your position who would care for a museum guard’s son.”

Shrugging, Anubis entered the room after Jamil opened the door and gestured for him to go ahead. “A person in my position?”

Jamil cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed. “I guess I’m assuming you’re rich and I haven’t had good experiences with rich people thinking they can make decisions about my digs because they’re funding it.”

“I can see that, but I don’t plan on telling you how to run your dig as long as you’re obeying the rules and guidelines laid down by UNESCO.” Anubis held up his hand when Jamil seemed about to say something. “And so far I haven’t seen anything that makes me think you’re doing anything wrong.”

“Thanks.”

“Where are the jars?” As much as he didn’t want to see them, he glanced around the room to see where they might be. There were tables and shelves covered with boxes, fragments, chards and ceramics.

“Over here.” Jamil motioned to the far corner. “I had them locked up in the vault because I didn’t want to risk something happening to them. Only a few people have permission to touch them.”

Anubis took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders as Jamil unlocked the safe room. It was going to be hard, no matter whose remains were in those jars. He was afraid it was the Prince and the heir. He had no connection to the Prince’s wife, though he didn’t like the idea of her being killed either.

He watched as Jamil lifted a box from a back shelf then brought it over to the closest table. Anubis caught the gloves Jamil tossed at him before reaching in to pick up the first jar. He carried it to the nearest light and set it down gently.

Leaning over it, he held his fingers over the writing and traced the letters without touching them. He didn’t want to take a chance on wiping something. But there was still dirt on some spots.

“Can I brush the dirt off?” He didn’t want to overstep his bounds, just in case Jamil wanted to be the one who cleaned it.

“Here.” Jamil held out a small paintbrush. “This should work fine. I don’t think anything will come off that we don’t want gone.”

Anubis held his breath as he carefully ran the brush over the writing, doing his best to reveal the letters. There was a tray underneath the jar to collect the dirt and debris. It would be analyzed to make sure there wasn’t something important in it. Like paint or ink.

Once the letters were clear, he stepped back to exhale and said, “Do you want to take some pictures before I read it?”

“What?” Jamil jerked. “Oh right. Yeah, I should snap some then you can translate and write it down for us. I need to go grab a camera. There’s a notebook and some pencils over in that desk in that corner. I guess you can start the translation while I’m gone.”

“Fine.” Anubis watched as Jamil left before he went to get the paper and pencils.

::Are you ready for whatever you might find writing on those jars?::

He swallowed and nodded, even though he knew Isis couldn’t see him. ::I’m as ready for this as I’ll ever be. To be honest, I never really expected them to have lived after I was killed. Never trust your enemies.::

Isis’s sigh rang through his head. ::We all learned that lesson the hard way. Contact us if you need us. Your brothers are here for you, plus we all know what you’ve been through.::

::I will.::

He felt Isis leave his mind as he sat. After tilting the lamp so the light didn’t shine directly on the jar, but gave off enough reflection for him to still see the writing, he closed his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Anubis jerked, not having heard Jamil return to the room. Thank God, I didn’t have the jar in my hand. That would’ve been disastrous.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you hadn’t heard me come back.” Jamil touched his shoulder lightly then held the camera up. “I’ll grab a couple of photos then you can get working.”

“Okay.” He noticed how his hands shook, so he tucked them under his thighs. He’d have to get a grip. Jamil couldn’t know the jars were more than just an intriguing discovery for Anubis. “Did I do a good enough job cleaning it off?”

“Oh yeah. I’ll probably have some of my grad students go back through and do a more thorough cleaning, but it’s good.” Jamil snapped several pictures before stepping back. “I’m going to go download these on one of the museum’s computers and get them labeled. You get to translating.”

Anubis chuckled. “Yes, boss.”

Jamil joined in for a few seconds then he left again.

The laughter helped ease Anubis enough that he could look at the writing without being too emotional. He started translating it, the scratch of the pencil across the paper filling the room as he mouthed the words to himself. He didn’t allow time for himself to think about what it said. That would come after he was done.

Time slipped away and he was back in the anteroom listening to his prince talking with an emissary from one of the visiting societies. He’d stood in the background, watching for any sign of danger from the strangers, yet his prince’s presence was foremost in his mind. He always knew where the man was, even in a crowd of people.

“So what does it say?”

Tuesday, March 24th, 2015, by , Filed under: Anubis,Earth Warriors,Free story| | 1 Comment

Anubis

Anubis copyright c. 2015 T.A. Chase

Part Nine-

Anubis glanced at his watch for the third time in the last five minutes. Where the hell was Jamil? They were supposed to meet at the museum by ten and it was already five after. Not that he needed the archaeologist to escort him in to see the jars. With his credentials, Anubis could stroll in and demand to be allowed to examine them without any supervision.

Yet he’d wanted to try and play by the rules. He didn’t want to antagonize Jamil before they even started working together. It made things a lot harder when he had to go above people to their supervisors and get things done.

“I’m so sorry,” Jamil panted as he raced up to Anubis. He bent over, propping his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “I ended up staying out at the site way longer than I planned last night. Then there was an emergency out there early this morning and I had to go back.”

“An emergency? What happened?” Anubis was no longer annoyed by Jamil’s tardiness. His concern was Petra and the other artifacts hidden in its undiscovered rooms.

Jamil held up a finger and kept Anubis waiting while he calmed down. “Two of our security guards disappeared last night and some weird offering was left in the room where the writing is.”

Anubis wanted to shake the man, but clenched his hands instead. “Do you have a picture of what was left? Did you remove it already?”

“We removed it, but not before we documented everything. Took pictures. Drew it out. Then I had Sandy and Eesha bag it up. I brought it back with me for the professors here to look at.” He glanced at Anubis. “You should take a look as well. It has the same weird writing on it.”

Startled, Anubis jerked. There shouldn’t be anyone else alive who knows that language. Everyone else died shortly after I was killed. He nodded. “Yes. I would love to examine it along with the other artifacts you’ve dug up.”

“Come with me then,” Jamil motioned for him to follow then froze. He laughed. “Actually, you’re more likely to be allowed in then I am. I get patted down and my bag searched when I enter and leave. Even though I’m here at least four times a week.”

“They have to be thorough. Priceless antiquities are big on the black market. I’ve seen even the most ethical man be tempted to make some hard cash that way.” Anubis shrugged. “So many of our oldest societies have lost treasures to unscrupulous dealers and diggers.”

Jamil inclined his head in agreement. “I wouldn’t do that. I cherish the past too much.”

“You wouldn’t do it now, but you never know what the future holds for you and what you might be driven to.” Anubis smiled at the guard watching them approach the main desk at the museum. “Ah, Kalid. It’s good to see you again. How is your family?”

Kalid’s grim face lit up. “They are all doing very well, Mr. Al Hazzan. Thank you so much for asking and for putting in a good word for my eldest son at Cambridge.”

“Bright minds should be give every chance to flourish,” Anubis said as he bowed. “I understand he is doing quite well there.”

“He loves it.” Kalid looked over at Jamil. “Mr. Ahlid, it is good to see you as well. I had the items you brought with you taken to the storage room where the other artifacts from Petra are.”

“Thank you, Kalid.” Jamil stood while Kalid went through his bag then ran a wand over him to make sure he wasn’t carrying any weapons.

Anubis didn’t undergo that much scrutiny, though his credentials were analyzed and scanned into the computer. When he came back clear, Kalid waved them through.

As they headed to the elevator that would take them to the lower levels of the museum, Anubis felt Jamil’s gaze on him. It wasn’t until they were in the elevator car that he met Jamil’s eyes.

“Yes?”

“You recommended Kalid’s son for a position at Cambridge,” Jamil said, his tone more of question then a statement.

Anubis nodded. “Not a position. Samir wants to be an astrophysicist and Cambridge is one of the best places in the world to study that. I merely wrote a letter to the head of the department, recommending he take a closer look at Samir’s schooling and his potential. There were only three scholarships to be given out the year Samir was old enough to go.”

Jamil exhaled. “Your letter had a lot of influence, I’m sure. But why would the head of the astrophysics department listen to an antiquities consultant?”

Chuckling, Anubis said, “He listens to me because I donate money to the different departments there, not just the historical ones. I believe education is important, no matter what the focus is on.”

“Did you give the money for Samir’s scholarship then?” Jamil led the way out of the elevator when it stopped at the basement level.

Anubis followed him through the dimly lit hallways, trying not to let his gaze drop lower then the middle of Jamil’s back. He needed to stay focused on the artifacts and not on how fine the man’s ass looked in those faded jeans. He gave himself a mental slap then answered his question. “I might have given the seeds of money that grew into the scholarship. I was not the only donor though.”

That was true. The other six of his brothers gave money as well and the grant they endowed for Cambridge wasn’t for any specific area of study. As Anubis had said, they believed in education period. It didn’t matter to them who studied what. It wasn’t like they wanted to only help out those who studied Ancient Middle Eastern Cultures or anything like that.

Even when they were still alive in their old lives, they were each fascinated by other things besides the warrior path. Yet none of them had ever been given a chance to be other then what they were, warriors for their kings and queens.

Tuesday, March 17th, 2015, by , Filed under: Anubis,Earth Warriors,Free story| | 1 Comment