Field of Reeds

Adrian slowly descended the steps to the hole in the ground he'd discovered, every step slow and gentle. He stepped with purpose; beyond the illuminating beam of his flashlight, he could barely see a thing in the darkness beyond. It was like it swallowed the light, the world dropping off just a few feet in front of them.

He could hardly believe what he'd found; an Egyptian temple. An honest-to-God Egyptian temple, completely untouched by time, and buried under the sands.

Almost buried. He'd had to kick away some of the sand and push aside a stone covering to get inside, but that hardly mattered now. An actual Egyptian temple! In his whole career, he never thought he'd find one; not a new one, anyway. Just old ones, their secrets already long revealed, their treasures sitting in museums half a world away.

After what seemed the longest descent imaginable, Adrian finally reached the bottom, his boots touching down on the hard stone. With a quick sweep around, he scanned the walls, passing his beam of light over the ancient writing that lined them.

Hieroglyphs. The pictographs of an extinct people, telling the stories and rituals of a religion long since dead, and deities long since relegated to nothing more than myth. But once upon a time, they were alive; alive like any reigning king, watching over the lands of Egypt in an eternal vigil.

But those days were gone. Gone and buried just like the temple he found himself in; even with a cursory reading of the hieroglyphs, he wasn't entirely sure who the temple was dedicated to. He decided to venture further inside The central room he'd stepped down into led to several chambers, and as luck would have it, his flashlight passed over something in the corner of the room, squat and legged.

A torch. An actual torch, unlit and dark. On a lark, he walked up to it, pulling out his lighter and holding it close to the millennia-old dark liquid that sat inside the bowl, expecting a whole lot of nothing to happen. Instead, the second the flame from his lighter touched the black liquid, a flame shot forward from the point of contact. Adrian jumped backward, surprised that there'd been a reaction at all.

He'd found a temple. With working torches. That wasn't something he'd expected when he woke up that morning. He moved into the next room, finding two more standing bowls of dark liquid flanking the entrance. They lit up as well as the first, filling the room with a gentle, orange light.

Inside, he saw more hieroglyphs, even more well-preserved than the ones lining the entrance to the temple. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw some of the original white paint lining the walls, some of the characters on the hewn stone still colored with dyes.

And along the walls, the same character kept showing up. A nude goddess, standing above a line, a crown with a sun embedded on it.

He recognized it, and his jaw went agape.

Qetesh.

He'd found a temple to Qetesh.

That he wasn't expecting. It would take months to translate the murals coating the walls, but her continued re-appearance made the building's dedication all too obvious. Qetesh, the Egyptian goddess of sacred ecstasy and sexual pleasure. A popular goddess in her heyday; not quite as well known as Anubis or Isis, but a goddess all the same.

And in the room were treasures dedicated to her glory. Golden statues of amazing detail, thatched boats unworn by time, golden wheels and small treasures chests and urns, all intricately detailed and stacked neatly.

A perhaps the most significant treasure of all sat in the middle of the room, reflecting the light of the two torches at the entrance. Something round and shiny. Adrian walked up to it, and as he approached, he realized what it was. A bronze mirror, polished so finely it reflected nearly as well as smooth glass.

He leaned in, rubbing his chin, taking a moment to observe himself in the ancient reflect surface. Tall, fair-skinned, with piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw lined with dark stubble that matched his short, dark hair. Slightly tall, strong but lean.

Thoroughly Greek. It made him feel a strange familiarity with the land he studied, like the history of his own people gave him a connection to it. But those were just feelings; he was thousands of years removed from antiquity, just like modern Egypt was from the time of the Old, Middle, and New Kingdoms.

In this age, sometimes traveling by yourself in Egypt was just a little bit ill-advised. While he traveled light, a tan vest and dark pants being most of what he wore, a holstered gun also prominently sat upon his hip. Just in case. Especially when getting a find like this; he'd been utterly unprepared to find this place, and if someone less than honest came by while he was exploring...well, hopefully it wouldn't come to that. And, he thought with dark humor, at least he knew a few of those Egyptian spells that would allegedly ferry his soul safely to the afterlife.

He decided to check the other rooms. More treasures, more hieroglyphs; what Adrian found most surprising were the statues of the goddess, rendered in a detail he'd never seen before. Some of what appeared to be plated in gold, others in smooth black stone, all of them carrying an eye of Horus on her right eye. Some sitting, some standing.

All of them, showing a goddess completely nude, a perfect shapely figure with firm breasts and an attractive face that reminded him of a blend of some idealized women he'd seen on similar statues, and the features of an extremely attractive Nubian woman.

Against his better judgment, he reached out to one of the statues, poking the breast of it with the tip of his finger. When he pulled away, he rubbed the tips of his fingers together.

"That's weird," he muttered. "No dust."

Still one more room to check. He left the one he was in; if not out of curiosity of what was left to explore, if only because the nudity of the statues was just making him ever so slightly hot and bothered. Making his way into the central room and into the last side-room that remained unexplored, lighting the torches revealed what was inside.

Nothing more or less than a life-sized statue of the goddess, an Ankh held in one hand, still completely devoid of clothes, a variety of offerings laid at her feet, piles of small treasures that looked like they'd been undisturbed for thousands of years.

He crept forward, his every step light as he could allow. Not out of fear of traps, but out of simple distrust for the structure he found himself in. It was a mystery to him; a central chamber, three rooms, and that seemed to be it. There may be hidden doors beyond; it wasn't unlike the ancient Egyptians to wall up entire complexes inside great tombs, but what he seemed to have stumbled upon was very modest.

Modest in comparison, at least. The treasures he'd discovered would probably propel his career by lightyears; his progress in the world of academia had been slow, and many of his expeditions he'd had to fund himself, but it looked like all of that was just about to pay off.

He walked up towards the statue, gazing upon its glory. Etched in completely black stone, gold jewelry sitting on its body. An ankh necklace, and golden net rings. Gold bands around the arms and ankles in the shape of twisting snakes, and gold rings around the fingers and a few of the toes. Even their hair had gold; bits of it braided in gold bands, circling the golden circular earrings the statue wore, a crown with a small amber circle flanked by horns sitting upon her head.

As with the smaller statues he'd seen, the same attractive face and figure. And even through the blackness of the stone, he could see a tight slit between her legs, petals just barely peeking out of the folds.

Whoever made it had a very specific vision in mind. Adrian almost chuckled at the image of him coming across this discovery during the Victorian Era; heavens, they'd seal up this tomb and never tell anyone!

A quick thud sounded outside, from beyond the temple walls. The sound of a car door being slammed, followed by another. Adrian's eyes went wide as he rushed out of the room, ascending the stairs back up to the world outside. When he reached the top, the first thing he felt was wind; harsh and cold, the gusts made his shirt flap wildly as he looked ahead to the source of the sound.

It had been two men, both carrying rifles, now walking away from the jeep parked in the sand in front of the entrance to the temple.

"Um," Adrian murmured. "Can I...help you gentlemen?"

"Evening," the burlier, tanner man replied in a British accent. "We just saw your car parked up a ways, and wondered if you needed some help."

Adrian silently cursed himself for leaving his vehicle out in the open where he had. "No," he lied, "just parked. Is uh, there a reason you guys are carrying long rifles?"

The other man shrugged, his accent Sicilian. "Depends on what you found."

He blinked. "What?"

"He said," the Brit repeated, "it depends on what you found."

Adrian's blood ran cold. Shit, he thought to himself. Grave robbers. It didn't really matter what he'd found; there could be nothing but rocks below, they'd sell them off the highest bidder regardless. And below his feet lay the greatest find since the discovery of King Tut's tomb. Possibly greater.

But was it worth his life? Probably not. And with the pistol on his hip, any aggression by him would mean his untimely death.

He attempted diplomacy. "Hey," he said, "I just found this place. I haven't even looked around."

"Good," the Brit grunted, walking forward. "That gives us first pick of whatever you found."

"Wait!" Adrian replied. "We need to contact Cairo! I need to contact my university! I don't think anyone even knows about this place!"

The Brit stopped, looking over to his right. Adrian followed his gaze, and to his horror, he saw a dust storm slowly rolling in, massive churning walls of sand inching its way across the desert floor.

The Sicilian frowned. "Where'd that dust storm come from?"

The Brit shook his head. "Well, guess we're working on limited time now. I don't think our friend here would object to helping us out here, now would he?"

With a steely eye, the looter gazed at Adrian, finger resting on the trigger of his rifle.

One last time, Adrian attempted to negotiate. "I just-"

With zero ceremony, the Brit aimed his rifle and fired, his shot landing right at Adrian's feet, throwing up clumps of dirt in a small column. The shot cracked over the landscape, echoing into the distance.

"Now then," the Brit sighed. "Are you going to help us or not?"

The other thug rolled his eyes. "For fuck's sake. Just shoot him; the sand storm will bury him."

Adrian's heart was pounding out of his chest. "You're going to kill a man over some trinkets?"

"Egyptian trinkets are the best kind," the Brit replied, smiling. "You would not believe what rich trophy wives and startup tech bros will shell out just for a shred of papyrus. It makes them feel like old money. Almost as old as the tombs around here."

The image of what he'd found languishing in some billionaire's mansion made indignant fury rise in Adrian's chest. He couldn't let these men just cart enough these treasures and give them to whoever could pay. What he'd found belonged to the Egyptian people, to the heritage of mankind as a whole. He just didn't know how he'd get out of this alive to make sure that happened.

The Brit shrugged. "On second thought, yeah. Thanks for leading us here, but I think you'll be more trouble than you're worth in the end."

The Brit raised his rifle, and what happened next was a blur. Adrian's brain went on autopilot, his hand flying to his holster and throwing up his gun. He fired, the Brit's eyes going wide as a single shot nailed him in the chest, a line of blood trailing out from the wound. He went down, dead before he hit the sand.

And as the Brit fell, Adrian brought up his gun against the Sicilian, who'd already raised his rifle. Two shots ran out from the mercenary's Armalite before Adrian fired, hitting him right between the eyes. He fell backward, limp as a doll.

Adrian stood there for a moment, arm outstretched, a small long wisp of smoke coming from the barrel of his gun before he finally lowered it, putting it back into his holster.

"You got that right," he darkly muttered. When he took his first step forward to check the Brit, a surge of pain shot through his side. He yelped, gritting his teeth as he grasped the tortured area, and when he pulled away his hand, his heart dropped when he saw the dark smear of blood.

"Oh no."

One of the two shots the Sicilian had let off had found its mark, right above his liver.

"No, nononono."

He made another step towards the jeep, but even that was too much. And with another gust of wind, he realized he had another problem on his hands: the dust storm was drawing ever closer, and driving in that kind of weather would be suicide. He'd get even more lost and make his situation even more hopeless.

To his amazement, the sky seemed to already dim, turning angry red and then slowly fading until he could scarcely see the front of his hand. The dust storm seemed to sneak up on him, and now, even making it to the Jeep to search for supplies seemed like a dangerous endeavor.

With no other option, he turned and very slowly walked back down the steps, hoping to find refuge from the storm until it passed. When he reached the bottom he practically collapsed, but managed to drag himself into the room with the large statue of Qetesh, sliding down against the wall.

He checked his wound again; again pain raced through his body when he touched it, and he snarled in pain. But leaving it unattended would just make it worse, and with that in mind, he slowly took off his vest, wadding it up and pressing it against his side. It wasn't a perfect solution, or even a good one, but it was the best he had at the moment.

His thoughts went back to the two men he'd just killed, and only then did the reality set in. It was self-defense, sure, but that didn't diminish the fact that two men now lay dead outside the temple, no doubt being buried in the sand as they'd planned with him. By the way they talked, he wouldn't have been their first victim. He wondered if they were the cause behind a few other Egyptologist disappearances over the years, but it hardly mattered now. He just had to wait out the storm, and get to a hospital as soon as he could. The wound didn't feel fatal, but things could go south very quickly unless he got himself some proper first aid.

When he looked up at the statue, he shrugged. "Don't suppose I could get some help for defending your temple, eh?"

The statue said nothing.

"Figures."

He kept the pressure on the wound, simply sitting and hoping to wait out the storm. Before too long, he heard sand pouring down the steps. It piqued his curiosity, and with weak legs, he rose to his feet, guiding himself with one hand along the wall while he still pressed against the wound.

When he walked into the central chamber, his worst fears were confirmed. It must have been a hell of a sandstorm, because the entrance at the top of the staircase was now completely obscured.

"Damnit."

With that, he turned and walked back into the statue room. Sitting against the wall again didn't strike his fancy, but laying on the floor didn't much appeal to him either. The only other flat surface was the raised surface the statue stood upon, almost like a raised slab for the offerings at the feet of the statue.

He walked over, gingerly scooting some of the trinkets aside, and with a very pained grunt, lifted himself onto the slab, laying down flat. The pain eased somewhat, and he let out a relieved sigh, closing his eyes, simply trying to ignore the pain as best he could.

When he felt himself getting lightheaded, he stirred and shook himself to alertness. No, none of that. If he fell asleep, there was no guarantee he'd wake back up.

But the strength was fading. Strength and heat sapped from his limbs, like the heat living a warm cup. He felt beads of sweat began to dot his face; a curious feeling, especially with the cold that was now creeping across his body.

He opened his eyes, looking up at the statue standing over him. "Oh god, I'm gonna die down here."

Bringing one hand to his forehead, he kneaded it. "Keep it together, Adrian. No, you're not going to die down here. You just need to...rest."

Rest. It sounded good, he just needed to make sure it wasn't an eternal one. Searching his mind for something to keep his mind focused, he thought of the only thing that made sense, giving his predicament. Egyptian prayers for the dead. A part of him knew it sounded corny, but he'd take anything to stay awake now.

As he worked through them, he felt himself getting lighter and lighter, his eyelids heavier and heavier. He closed them, continuing to mumble verses from the Book of the Dead, until he felt his lungs grow too heavy to draw breath at all.

When he realized he'd gone nearly a full minute without breathing, he suddenly sprang up, drawing in a sharp breath of air. His eyes shot open, taking in his surroundings.

Wherever he was, he wasn't in the temple anymore. He was someplace dark; though where, he couldn't exactly tell.

He slowly stood up, and as he did, he realized that his side no longer pained him. The vest he'd had wadded against his side was gone, and he pulled away his shirt, checking where the bullet hole would've been.

Nothing.

He pulled his shirt down.

"Okay," he breathed, "I'm dreaming. At least that means I'm not dead."

When his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, he realized he was in an immense hallway. Wider than any bridge or road he'd ever seen, and lined with colossal pillars etched with hieroglyphs going all the way up. So tall were the pillars that he couldn't even see the tops of them, their peaks smothered by the darkness above.

A gust of wind blew past Adrian, and he shivered. Up ahead was a dim light. Checking behind him, only more darkness.

Well, he figured, only one way forward now. He pressed onward, walking the rows of columns, slowly advancing towards the light. Pressing ever onward, he wondered what would make him eventually wake up.

And a small part of him wondered something else. He wasn't dumb; the scene he found himself in was a familiar one. Could he have-

He shook his head, banishing the thought. No, he wasn't dead. He'd just fallen asleep on that slab, and he'd eventually wake up. The gunshot wasn't that bad, he rationalized. It was looking like he might have to dig himself out, but...how hard could that be?

Walking forward, he eventually found himself over a great bridge, a stone passageway over the abyss that led to a warm light beyond, so bright he almost had to look away from its splendor. And in front of that, a large circular opening on the bridge, a kind of stone circle in the middle, alone, a tall figure standing in front of the light beyond, partially smothered by it.

He squinted, walking forward with cautious steps. When he made his way to the circle, the figure's silhouette filled in. It was a tall, lean figure, skin obsidian black with a gold-trimmed tunic around its waist. In one hand, it held a large scale.

And on its shoulder, the head of a sleek, black jackal stared at Adrian with wise, calm eyes.

His steps slowed as he approached the figure, heart beating. For a dream, this was very vivid.

The figure said nothing, prompting Adrian to speak first.

"I think I know who you are," he grunted.

The figure stood stone still.

"I know you're probably a figure of my imagination, and I don't know why I'm asking you this, but...am I alive? I'm starting to suspect this might not be a dream."