“The Ancient Enemy of the Gods,” Asim finally said. “The killer of all life. The enemy with the patience of ”— Asim shook his head—“I know not the word, but something like the patience of a stone, infinite. And the specific word for the enemy, the closest I can come to is when the locusts gather — a Swarm.”
Khufu had seen swarms of locusts passing overhead so thick they made day into night. When they alighted in a field, they stripped it bare within minutes. He tried to imagine a Swarm that could be a threat to the Gods but could not conceive of it. The vision continued speaking, the sound almost like that of a bird, Khufu thought.
“The capstone — what it calls the Master Guardian — will stop the Ancient Enemy,” Asim finally said as the vision ceased speaking. “Excalibur controls the power to the Guardian. While the sword is inside the sheath the Master Guardian cannot work. You have freed it and thus the Master Guardian has power. The Master Guardian can now take action against the Ancient Enemy.”
Khufu turned to the priest. “How will this Master Guardian do this? What Ancient Enemy?”
Asim was looking up. He pointed at the display on the roof of the cavern that showed the sky above the pyramid. “That enemy, my lord.”
Khufu looked up and blinked. There was a dark spot high in the sky, rapidly growing larger. As it descended it began to take shape and Khufu felt his stomach knot and twist with fear. It was a large black flying spider — that was the only thing he could think. Eight legs, spread wide around a central, round body. And large — how big he had no idea, but its shadow was now covering the top of the pyramid.
After breaking the Fynbar out of its underground lair, Gwalcmai had gained altitude and accelerated the craft to the south until he was at maximum speed for atmospheric transit. The extreme speed didn’t allow Donnchadh much opportunity to observe the lands they traversed to see how much things had changed since they last went into the deep sleep.
“I’ve got a radar contact in the air,” Gwalcmai said as he began to slow the Fynbar. They were over the Mediterranean and Donnchadh could see the coastline ahead marked by the mouth of the Nile.
“Visual contact,” Donnchadh said, pointing at a black spot on the forward display.
Gwalcmai dropped altitude and brought them to a halt about ten kilometers away from the descending craft.
“What the hell is that thing?” he asked, pointing not atthe scout ship but at the massive structure below it on the Giza Plateau. It had not been there the last time they had been in Egypt.
How will the Guardian fight this?” Khufu whispered as he stared at the thing hovering over the top of the Great Pyramid.
“You have given it power by removing Excalibur from the sheath,” Asim repeated. “Watch the power of the Gods, my lord.”
Khufu wanted to strangle the priest. He could not tear his eyes from the rapidly approaching monster. Suddenly a golden orb of power streaked upward from the Master Guardian toward the object and hit. The spider jerked sideways. Khufu kept his eyes on it and a second golden orb raced into the sky and struck the enemy. Bright red flames burst out of the side of the flying spider and it jerked once more, now going upward, trying to escape.
Finish it,” Gwalcmai whispered, actually urging success to his longtime enemy.
A third golden orb hit it and enveloped the entire object. It was still going higher and higher, edging toward the west. There was a blinding explosion and the scout ship was gone.
Gwalcmai checked his instruments. “Debris is to the west. And I think an escape pod was ejected.”
“Dammit,” Donnchadh hissed.
The golden glow inside the chamber decreased and Khufu almost collapsed, feeling drained. The Pharaoh started as the image began speaking again.
“We are safe for now,” Asim translated. “But”—he paused as he translated, eye closed—“it is not safe.”
“What isn’t safe?” Khufu demanded.
“The Great Pyramid. The Master Guardian. The pyramid did not work as intended. It summoned the Ancient Enemy and not the Gods of old. If the Ancient Enemy came once, it can come again. What drew it here must be destroyed.”
The figure chimed on for a minute and Asim remained silent, until the figure stopped speaking, coalesced into a thin red line, then disappeared.
Asim opened his eye. “I have been told what is to be done. Put the blade back in the sheath, my pharaoh.”
Khufu slid the blade into the scabbard.
“Come, my lord,” Asim was hobbling toward the tunnel. “There is much to do.”
So stunned was the Pharaoh by the recent events that he didn’t even question being ordered about by the priest. He simply followed him out of the chamber, the covered sword in his hands.
As Gwalcmai had noted, there was a black pod remaining from the scout ship. It was approximately fifteen feet across, the metal surface unmarred by the explosion. As the pod approached the surface of the planet, its terminal velocity began to slow as some internal mechanism interacted with the planet’s electromagnetic field. Still, it was moving so fast that the outer surface gave off heat, glowing in the sky like a falling star. Despite slowing, the pod hit a dune with enough velocity to plow deep into the sand. It was completely covered when the pod came to rest, submerged twenty feet in the desert.
Gwalcmai was relieved when Donnchadh appeared, coming over the crest of a sand dune, behind which he had the ship hidden. He opened the hatch and she entered, sweat staining her robes and her sandals covered with sand.
“Did you find the Wedjat?” Gwalcmai asked.
Donnchadh nodded. “In the same little hut.”
Gwalcmai sealed the hatch behind her. “It is amazing the line has survived this long.” He lifted the Fynbar and moved away from Giza, keeping low to the ground to avoid detection. “Should we stay in the area?”
Donnchadh nodded. “Yes. Just in case he fails.”
An hour after the crash, a camel rider approached. A Libyan who was heading toward Cairo to do some trading, he’d seen the falling star from his caravan ten miles to the south. Leaving his son in charge, he’d ridden in the direction the object had fallen, curiosity pulling him across the sand.
He’d already passed places where it was obvious objects from the sky had landed in the desert, but whatever had hit, they were deeply buried under the sand. He approached a sixty-foot-high sand dune and noted the disturbed surface near the top indicating another impact. The Libyan halted his camel at the base of the dune and dismounted. His robe flapped in a stiff breeze and all but his eyes was covered with the cloth wrapped around his head.
The Libyan paused, his head swinging back and forth as he looked about. He had the sense of being followed, but his eyes detected no sign of another person, though he’d had the feeling for a while now.
He cocked his head as he heard a sound. A grinding noise. Then nothing but the wind for several moments. He took several steps closer to the dune where the sound had seemed to come from. Then he heard something different. Almost a slithering sound. He took half a step back, then paused. There was something inside the dune. Of that there was no doubt in his mind. He looked left and right but there was no movement. He could feel the heat of the sun on his shoulders but a chill passed through his body. The Libyan drew a curved sword from his belt. The noise was getting louder.
Mustering his courage, the Libyan took several steps forward until he was at the base of the dune. The sound was very close now. The Libyan jabbed the point of his sword into the dune, the blade easily spearing the sand. He did it again and then again.
He pulled the blade back and cocked his head. Nothing.
The tentacles came out of the sand underneath his feet, wrapping around his legs. He was pulled under, desperately trying to slash and stab with his sword at whatever was below him. His scream was cut off as he disappeared under the sand. His camel bolted off into the desert, desperate to get away.