The Eye of History - Chapter 2: The Vaults of Alexandria

ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT - 1924

The quiet darkness of the ancient chamber was suddenly disturbed by scraping stones.  A brilliant shaft of light poured into the room from above.  Lord knows how long it had been since light entered that hidden place, chasing the shadows of antiquity away into narrow corners and gaps between the old stones.

A long rope was unfurled and released into the darkness below.  It fell upon a flooded floor, sending ripples out into the black abyss.  Descending into the chamber, silhouetted against the pillar of light that surrounded them, were two figures.  The first was a young woman.  The second was a young man.  Both had golden hair that gleamed in the shadows.  Their eyes were bright and curious, hungry to observe all that was around them.

The young woman, after reaching the floor, pulled out her flashlight and turned its beam upon the carved pillars of the chamber.  She beheld hieroglyphics not seen by the eyes of men for nearly two millennia.  She could hardly contain her excitement.  She understood the significance of this moment.  She and her brother were making history by setting foot in this place.

“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!” she said, “The legends were true after all!”  She turned to her brother, who was still repelling down the rope.  “Grant!  You gotta see this!”  Grant alighted on the ground and was welcomed by soggy boots and water that rose to the middle of his shin.

“Geez!  Someone left the water running,” he said with a smirk.

Grant lit his flashlight and studied the wide chamber, moving forward through the water.  The ceiling was high and held up by dozens of carved columns in the style of the Hellenistic kings who ruled over the city of Alexandria.  The rows of pillars stretched onward before them, disappearing into the darkness.

“After all of this work, that emerald tablet better be here,” said Grant.

“It is,” said his sister, “I can feel it.”

“Well, let’s get movin’ before those guards notice the rope, or else we might be hanging from it!” said Grant, peering up at the makeshift entrance he and his sister had surreptitiously created for themselves.  Indeed, if anyone above spotted them, they would surely be killed.  The ruins of the Great Library of Alexandria were guarded by unknown figures: foreign mercenaries armed with machine guns.  The entire site was off limits to all archaeologists and - in the case of the two American siblings - treasure hunters.

These two were Grant and Abigail Galloway - globetrotting adventurers and treasure seekers extraordinaire…at least, that’s how they viewed themselves.  Their exploits barely made the newspapers back home, and it was even more seldom for them to return with any artifacts.  Not that they needed the money; they had inherited their father’s wealth after his death.  Instead, they embarked on expeditions for the sake of it: in Gail’s case, for the joy of discovery, and in Grant’s case, for the danger, panache, and thrill of adventure.

The Galloways waded slowly through the black water, which was nearly as still as a mirror’s surface.  All the while, they looked upon the carved stones, chiseled statues, and painted rock.

“Amazing!” said Gail, trying her best not to speak too loudly, “We’re actually in the secret vaults of Alexandria!  And to think, no one has set foot here in over two thousand years.”  Just then, Grant heard a faint splash in the distance.  He quickly turned his light in the direction of the sound but saw nothing but subtle ripples in the water.

“I hope you’re right about that, sis,” he whispered.

Gail moved ahead, eager to see what was just around the corner.  She seemed to be drawn to something, tugged forward by an unseen presence.  Grant followed after her, continuing his constant vigil over the surroundings, his ears primed for the slightest sound out of place.  He kept his hand at his hip, resting over the revolver strapped to his side.  In places like this, there could be things far more dangerous than ancient booby traps.

Before Gail, displayed on a stone wall, was a painted mural.  Its art style contrasted with the Hellenistic architecture around it.  It was as if the painting predated the Library itself, whose foundations were built around this mysterious mural.  Gail drew closer.  Its colors were surprisingly vibrant despite its age.  It depicted an almost religious scene of nine young maidens dressed in pure white gowns and standing upon a green island populated by apple trees.  Above the island was a blazing sun casting its rays upon the circle of maidens.  They seemed to revel in its light, perhaps even invigorated by it.  In the center of their circle was a chalice filled with fire.

“By Jove, Grant!” said Gail, “Take a look at this!  These paintings match the ones in our father’s notes.”  Grant paid her no attention.  He was still preoccupied with that sound from before.  Below the mural was hieroglyphic writing.  Gail crouched down and began to translate its text aloud, its words illuminated by the dappled reflections coming off of the water.

“Sleeps a great power across the green waters.  Awakened and claimed, a flame from heaven. Guarded by the nine, a sisterhood,”  When her eyes fell upon the final verse, they widened with revelation, “A vessel of fire, a weapon of kings.”  Gail could hardly control herself.  She turned and shined her light on her brother’s face to get his attention.  “Grant!  Come here!”  He grunted and waded over to her.

“What is it, Gail?”

“This is incredible!” she said, almost stuttering from excitement, “This is straight from Arthurian legend!”

“How’s that?” said Grant.

“An island of orchards and nine sisters guarding a kingly weapon,” began Gail, highlighting portions of the mural with her light, “Don’t you see?  It’s Avalon.”  Grant looked skeptical, but as he gazed upon the painting, he realized his sister was on to something.  He pointed at the fiery chalice.

“And this kingly weapon must be-”

“Excalibur!” said Gail.

“How would the Egyptians know of these things?” scoffed Grant, “The legends of Arthur wouldn’t take shape for nearly five hundred years after the burning of Alexandria.”

“There must be an original story that predates both of them,” said Gail, “Think about it.  This library was dedicated to the nine muses of Greek mythology, bestowers of knowledge and the arts.  And there were nine sisters of Avalon.  Other ancient cultures mention nine women possessing great power of some kind.  But this mural is the first to describe it as ‘a flame from heaven’”.

“And you told me once before that the name Excalibur could mean-”

“‘Out of a vessel – fire,’” said Gail, pointing at the flaming chalice, “A vessel of fire.  A weapon of kings.”

“Wow!” said Grant, “Looks like the big shots of Alexandria were trying to get to the bottom of this mystery too.”

“Exactly!” said Gail, “And if Dad’s research is correct, they were close to solving it.  The lost emerald tablet of Hermes Trismegistus should be here somewhere.  If we find it, we’re one step closer to Avalon and Excalibur.”

“Hermes Tris, Trismeg- what?” said Grant.

“Hermes Trismegistus,” said Gail.  She stared at her brother, who seemed dumbfounded by these strange words.  “Honestly, Grant!  I explained all of this to you earlier on the plane!  Don’t you ever listen to me!?”  Grant chuckled.

“I’ll confess, I stopped listening after you said ‘emerald tablet.’”  Gail sighed.

“Fine!  I’ll say it again.  Hermes…Thoth is another name for him; was believed to be a sorcerer by the Greeks and Egyptians.  His lost tablet was said to have been moved from Hermopolis to the vaults of Alexandria for research.”

“What does that have to do with Avalon?” asked Grant.

“He’s related to the Arthur legend,” said Gail, “Thoth imparted his knowledge of the divine fire to his female sages.  And how many sages do you think he had?”  Gail held up her hands to show nine raised fingers.  Grant smirked.

“Wasn’t one girlfriend enough?”  Gail slugged him in the arm.

“All right.  The history lesson is over.  Let’s go.”

They rounded a corner, ascended a small flight of stairs, and saw several sealed doorways.  Above each frame was a carved symbol.  Many were strange pictographs.  Others looked like Cuneiform script.  One even resembled archaic Sanskrit.  These chambers must’ve been the actual vaults of Alexandria, housing mysterious artifacts from across the ancient world.  The tablet the Galloways were looking for rested behind one of these doors.

“This one looks familiar,” said Grant, aiming his flashlight above an archway.  The symbol was a tall staff with two intertwining serpents wrapped around it.  At the top were two outstretched wings and an eye encased within a pyramid between them.  Gail recognized this symbol, too.  She quickly rummaged through her satchel and retrieved a wrinkled photograph out of her leather journal.

The man in the picture was standing beside a large stone with the same symbol etched into its cold surface.  The man was smiling, proud of his great archaeological find.  Gail was well acquainted with that smile; she had seen it nearly every day of her life.  It was the smile of her late father, George Galloway.  Gail carefully passed the photo on to her brother.

“That symbol is called the Caduceus,” she said, “It’s the sigil of Thoth.”  Grant grinned.

“Jackpot!”  He pulled out a pickaxe from his rucksack and used it to pry open the sealed door.  A great gust of wind rushed out as soon as the seal was broken.  Grunting, Grant shoved upon the stone and pushed it aside.  The sliding of the stone door was so loud that the Galloways failed to hear a second splash in the water, this time much closer to where they stood.  Something large had moved through the blackness, leaving large ripples in its wake.

The two adventurers passed over the threshold and entered the vault.  In the center of the large room was a raised platform.  There, three chests rested upon a dais.  The emerald tablet was surely within one of them.  The floor surrounding the platform was partially flooded, albeit only ankle-deep.  Surely, it couldn’t be this easy.

Gail quietly studied the room, not daring to take a single step forward without first understanding the secrets of this chamber.  The room was circular in shape, with a high ceiling and columns along the perimeter.  The pool was also circular, nearly filling the entire chamber except for a raised stone outer lip.  The water was oily black, hiding any secrets that lurked beneath.  Scattered about the pool were heaps of bones like stones protruding out of a lake.  Perhaps they were unfortunate grave robbers who had taken ill-guided steps and were immediately killed by some unseen hazard.

Grant picked up a hefty stone and lobbed it into the pool.  It fell upon the floor and caused a giant iron spike to erupt from the ground in the blink of an eye.  The stone was immediately pulverized by the sheer force of the trap.  The spike slowly retracted into the ground like a predator returning to its burrow.

“Heaven’s gate!” said Grant, “How are we supposed to get around this?”

After a moment or two, the water returned to its original calm state.  It reflected the painted ceiling on its blackened surface.  It caught Gail’s eye and drew her gaze upwards.  The ceiling was adorned with images of stars, constellations, and other hermetic emblems.  Their beauty was quite captivating.  Yet, something was odd about them.  Gail realized what it was.  The constellations were reversed.

She then returned her attention to the floor.  Sure enough, the constellations were as they should appear, reflected in the shallow water of the chamber.  Gail took the photograph of her father once again and turned it around.  Scribbled on the back, in her father’s handwriting, was a phrase.  It read, “Translation of runes on Ogham stone: As above, so below.”

“As above, so below,” whispered Gail to herself.  Grant leaned in to hear her.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a phrase accredited to Thoth,” said Gail, “What happens in the heavens affects the Earth.  The ceiling is a map that will help us navigate the floor.”

“Geez,” said Grant, “Couldn’t these ancients use a lock and key instead?  Far less complicated…and at least locks can be broken.”  Gail ignored him, returning the photo to her satchel and marching toward the edge of the water.  She walked along the brim, careful not to set one toe upon any of the submerged stones lest she trigger another trap and find herself impaled on a spike.  All the while, she glanced upwards and downwards, aligning the constellations to portions of the shallow pool.

She stopped.  The constellation closest to her was Orion.  Gail saw that the reflection of the first star in its shape was situated within a leaping distance from where she stood.  Gail called to her brother at the entrance, her voice echoing across the shallow waters.

“Remember in Hermopolis, we saw that carving of Orion?  It must’ve been a clue.  This must be the path to the platform.”

“Sis,” began Grant, “I don’t like this.  Let me go instead.”

“It’s okay, Grant,” said Gail calmly, “I can do it.  There are three chests to choose from, and we only have one shot at this.”

“But you don’t know which one has the tablet.”

“Trust me,” said Gail, approaching the water’s edge, “I’ll know.  Don't ask me how.  Just trust me, please.”  Grant clenched his teeth and growled.  He didn’t like this plan, but he knew all too well that it was futile to argue with his sister once she’d made up her mind.  Instead, he stood by the doorway and watched as Gail gingerly lept from the room’s outer perimeter to the first star’s reflection in Orion’s constellation.

Splash!  Her boots landed firmly against solid stone.  Gail let out a sigh of relief.  So far, so good.  She waited a moment for the waters to still before leaping to the next star.  Her journey started along the right arm of Orion, moving closer towards the Belt.  Her movements were precise and nimble.  Yet, every time she leaped forward, her brother would wince.

Next, she hopped to the reflection of Betelgeuse…then to Bellatrix…then finally to the first star in Orion’s Belt.  From here, it would be a simple hop, skip, and jump to the raised platform and their prize.

Grant twisted his head towards the darkened doorway.  There was another sound.  The cold and narrow passageway carried an eerie hissing to his ears.  Was it wind rushing through the ancient chambers?  Was it the sudden change of air pressure after unsealing the door?  Or…was it something far more sinister?  The young adventurer slowly unfastened the flap of his leather holster and crept to the door.  The hissing grew louder and louder until it revealed itself to Grant.  He recognized that it was not the sound of wind but rather a beastly growl.

Gail alighted onto the stone platform.  She laughed aloud, proud of her efforts.  On the raised dais were three bronze chests arranged in a triangular shape and sealed shut.  There was no way to tell which one contained the emerald tablet of Thoth.  She could raise them and feel their weight, but that would surely trigger a trap.  There were no markings on their exteriors to offer clues.  Instead, Gail would have to use her intuition and pray for the best.

With closed eyes, she hovered her hand over the lids of the chests.  When she opened them, her palm was resting on the top of one chest.  Nothing about this chest made it any more special than the others except for the fact that Gail’s instincts had chosen it.  It was a risky gamble, but her intuition had not failed her yet.  She grasped the box’s sides with both hands, ready for whatever would happen as soon as she lifted it from its place.

Three…two…one!  The box was raised.  Her eyes slowly peeled open.  Nothing had happened.  Gail sighed.  Grant heard her and returned his attention to the chamber.

“Is everything all right!?” he called out, “Did you get it?”

“Yes!  I got it!” replied Gail, tucking the box under her arm, “Let’s go!”  Before she could move a single step, there was a sudden jolt beneath her feet.  It nearly knocked her off balance.  Grant felt it too and held onto the stone doorway to keep himself upright.  A deafening sound boomed over them from above.  Stones were grinding against one another.  Then, the circular ceiling began to rotate.  The reflections of the painted constellations circled the pool for a moment before stopping, this time in a different configuration.  The young lady’s heart sank into her stomach.  There was no way she could retrace her steps back to the other side.  Gail was trapped, marooned on an island in a dark sea of death.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” exclaimed Grant, “I told you I should’ve handled this!  You never listen to me!”

“We can argue later,” said Gail, “Just help me get back across!  Think of something!”  Grant paced back and forth at the lip of the water, muttering to himself and looking about his environment frantically.  He noticed a cracked column and dashed over to it.  He drew forth a sledgehammer from his rucksack and began wailing upon the crumbling pillar.  At first, the column remained fixed in place, but after a few agonizing minutes, Grant was able to loosen it from its spot.

“Step back, sis!” shouted Grant as the column came tumbling towards her.  It fell with a tremendous crash, shattering into dozens of smaller pieces, each large enough for Gail to use as stepping stones back to the other side.  As the pillar fell, it triggered several iron spikes, obliterating smaller shards of rock into clouds of dust.  However, a few large segments struck against the wall of the chamber, smashing open an enormous hole and causing water from the Mediterranean to come rushing in.

“Oh, for Pete's sake!” growled Grant, watching as the endless torrents began to fill the circular room.  Grant ran to the base of the fallen column and climbed atop it.  “Gail!  I’m coming over to you!  Don’t worry!  Just stay put!”  Abigail nodded, tightly clutching the chest in her arms.  The pool was beginning to deepen.  But it didn’t matter.  Her brother would be there soon to carry her to safety, as he always did.

However, Gail's brief moment of relief was abruptly chased away by a sickening sight.  Just over Grant’s shoulder, emerging through the doorway, were three blinding lights.  The guards above had found them, drawn by the crashing column and grinding stones.

“Fermati lì!” said one of the men, raising his weapon.  Grant sighed and slowly raised his hands.  He carefully turned and faced them, illuminated by their flashlights.  The mercenaries were dressed in military attire, girded by ammo pouches.  “Chi sei? Cosa ci fai qui?”  The Galloways were taken aback.  They were not expecting the guards to be speaking Italian.  Unfortunately for Grant, he didn’t know any Italian.

“Sāmiḥnā. Naḥnu siyāḥ.” said Grant, reciting Arabic lines he had practiced in case a moment like this was to occur.  He was feigning ignorance as a tourist who had gotten lost.  The front two soldiers looked perplexed.  It was clear from their hesitation that Arabic was not their first language.  Yet, they found Grant’s excuse and accent to be odd.

“Tourists?” said one of the mercenaries in English.  He moved to the head of the pack, his face completely obscured by the light shining in Grant’s eyes.  The only thing that Grant could see was a tattoo on the man’s right forearm.  It was a black crow pierced by a long spear through its heart.

“That’s right,” said Grant, trying to determine the stranger’s accent in return, “Tourists…just like you.”  This comment did not amuse them.  The leader moved closer to the fallen column, forcing Grant to take a few steps backward.  Glancing at his holster, Grant waited for the right opportunity to draw his pistol.

“What’s that?” said the mercenary, pointing his gun at the chest in Gail’s grasp.  She tightened her grip around it.  Grant struggled to think of something to say but could only remember his practiced lines.

“Ummm…a souvenir?” he said, wincing.  Gail groaned and placed her face in her palm.  The leader of the guards chuckled.

“Souvenir, eh?” He said, “Without paying for it?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” said Grant, “I’ll trade you two other chests for this one. What do you think of-” His quip was countered by a burst of machine gun fire to the ceiling.  The shots echoed endlessly through the vaults of Alexandria.  The soldier of fortune stepped up onto the first segment of the broken column and waltzed up to Grant’s face, continuing to blind him with his flashlight.

“I’ll make you a better deal,” he began, “I will shoot you both dead on the spot, American.  But, if you bring me the artifact, we will let your pretty friend here live.  My men have been bored lately, and she might provide some entertainment.  What do you say?  Sound fair?”  These words burned Grant’s heart into a charred cinder.  The villain’s voice almost oozed with venom as he spoke, his accent as rough as sandpaper.  There was nothing Grant desired more than to pull out his pistol and pump this brute’s guts full of lead.

“I say…” began Grant, his fingers quivering.  This was it.  It would be a desperate gambit, but Grant had no other choice.  He would have to use his wits and brawn to save himself and his sister.

However, there are some forces that neither intelligence nor strength can overcome, like the force of nature itself.  Something was faintly seen beyond the lights of the three guards.  Slithering through the water was an armored tail bristling with spiny scales.  Grant’s face went pale at the sight of it.

“What in blazes is that?!” he said, pointing over the mercenary’s shoulder.  The fiend laughed.

“That’s your best plan?” he said.  The shape was inching closer and closer.

“No, really,” said Grant, “There’s something behind you!”

“EEEAAAAHHHH!” shrieked one of the guards.  A set of monstrous jaws had sunken their fangs into his ankle.  After a few pitiful cries for help, the man was dragged into the darkness.  A ravenous crunch silenced him forever.   The leader turned and beheld a pair of glistening eyes staring at him from the blackness.  Then another pair.  Then another.  Then another.  A swarm of crocodiles had appeared, squirming one by one through the narrow doorway, their fangs dripping with saliva.

“No one ever listens to me!” said Grant, slugging the trooper in the ribs and drawing his revolver.  The villain stumbled back but quickly turned his attention to the crocodiles drawing near.  Grant began to fire while stepping backward across the bridge of shattered stones.  The sound of his shots rang loudly in the echoing chamber.  Abigail clasped her hands to her ears as her brother, and the two remaining men at arms fired haphazardly at the beasts.  One was struck in the head and immediately sank beneath the water’s surface.  Others were struck, but their scales proved too strong and merely deflected the attacks.

The second soldier sprayed the wall of the chamber with machine gun fire but only managed to hit one or two crocodiles.  As he paused to reload his weapon, a heavy tail struck his legs, knocking him into the pool.  The water was deepening with each passing minute but was still shallow.  The fiend floundered about in the water, trying to regain his bearings, but in his struggle, he activated a hidden trap.  His body was raised abruptly, skewered on an iron spike.  He cried out with his last breath.  Frozen forever, the man’s face showed a mixture of fear, pain, and surprise.

“Grant!  To your left!  Ten O’clock!” cried Gail, shining her flashlight at a pair of opaque eyes slithering towards her brother.  Grant aimed his pistol at the circle of light in the water and squeezed the trigger.  Another crocodile was slain.  “To your right!” said Gail, “Three O’clock!”  BLAM!  Another kill.  “One more at eleven O’clock!”  Grant steadied his aim and – CLICK!  Out of bullets!

Fumbling to reload his revolver, Grant failed to notice a crocodile rearing up onto the broken stones.  “Grant!  Watch out!” cried Gail as the crocodile snapped its jaws at his shin.  He stumbled back, dropping his remaining ammunition into the deepening black pool.  Rather than responding to this misfortune with a sly remark, Grant simply roared and clawed at some nearby stones.  With animalistic shouts, he hurled the stones at the predators.

Gail watched this struggle transpire from her sinking perch.  Her brother’s tactic might work to their advantage if they used their environment to even the odds.  Gail scooped up a hefty stone and tossed it at an approaching crocodile.  It missed the animal but instead found its true target.  The stone fell upon a hidden trap, activating an iron spike.  The spear pierced the scaly armor of the beast, penetrating its brain and killing it instantly.

Grant caught on to this plan and followed suit.  His first stone missed a trap, but his second and third found submerged triggers.  The first of the iron spikes missed but frightened the crocodile away.  The second spike skewered the beast through its belly.  The animal writhed and hissed in agony, its limbs twitching before growing stiff.

Nearly engulfing the platform upon which Gail stood, the rushing waters of the Mediterranean began to dwindle.  Grant's makeshift bridge was also submerged except for one stone that the young man clung to desperately.  Standing upon the dais, Gail shone her light against the water.  Most of the crocodiles had retreated, spooked by the ancient boobytraps of Alexandria.  The coast was clear for Grant to swim over to her.

“Now’s your chance!  Go!” said Gail.  Grant released himself from his bastion and pushed through the water with all his strength.  All was well until another shape appeared in the agitated waters behind Grant.  “GRANT!  LOOKOUT!”

Her cries were too late.  The leader of the hired guns grabbed hold of Grant’s ankle.  A glinting knife was in the man’s other hand, ready to plunge it deep into the treasure hunter’s heart.  They both fell beneath the water, churning it as they wrestled.  The enemy was strong.  Despite Grant’s youth and vigor, he nearly taxed himself, keeping the knife’s point from entering his skin.  It would take a miracle for the young adventurer to overcome such a formidable foe.

As if a prayer was answered, another crocodile, this one larger and older than the rest, clamped its crooked fangs into the attacker’s right forearm.  Its scales were gray, and its face was covered in deep, long scars.  This one was a veteran creature, surviving countless battles with other crocodiles, hippos, and human predators.

The monster shook the mercenary about like a ragdoll in its iron grip.  He was tossed helplessly through the water as he fought to jab his knife against its scales.  The beast carried him down into the depths of the pool, dragging Grant in tow.  Suddenly, without warning, an iron spike broke through the surface of the pool, causing Gail to fall back in shock.  The spear slowly drew itself back under, and the frothing water became still.

The young woman collected herself and crawled toward where a few bubbles were rising.  In a feeble voice, she called out, “Grant?”  The quiet waters gave no response.  She called out again.  “Grant?”

Her call was answered by a murky cloud of blood emanating from where her brother and his adversary were submerged.  She gasped.  No.  It couldn’t be, not like this.  Her heart stopped beating, and her lungs shut tight.  Her entire world was crumbling around her.  All of her hopes and passions were wrought to dust in an instant.  Finding the emerald tablet of Thoth, exploring the Vaults of Alexandria, uncovering the mystery of Excalibur, finishing her father’s work: none of it mattered…without her brother.

But then, before she could shed a single tear, there was another loud eruption from the pool’s surface.  It was Grant, alive and unscathed by his ordeal.  By God’s grace and a little bit of twisted irony, the ingenuity of the Alexandrian scholars had rescued Gail’s brother from the jaws of death.

“Oh, thank heavens you’re okay!” cried Gail, reaching out and taking Grant’s arm.  As she hoisted him up, all of her hopes, passions, and dreams came rushing back to her in a sweet embrace.  Grant flopped onto the platform, gulping air and nursing his wounds.

“Of course I am!” he said in between breaths, “I meant to do that.  It was all part of the plan, you see.”  Abigail laughed.

“No doubt!”

“Do you still have the tablet?” asked Grant.  Gail took the chest and cradled it in her arms.

“Right here.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” said Grant, pointing to the hole in the wall.  The water had settled, and a faint sparkle of light could be seen between the crumbled stones.  Their exit was only a short swim away.  “Let’s go.”

The two treasure hunters emerged from the damp ruins of the Vaults and were doused in warm sunlight once again.  The harbor of Alexandria yawned before them.  Despite being welcomed by the familiar soundscape of buoys, gulls, and boat horns, the Galloways were not out of danger yet.

“Guardate! Ladri!” shouted a guard to his colleagues, “Dopo di loro! Non devono scappare con l'artefatto!”

THWACK!  A hefty punch to the jaw sent a guard tumbling down some dusty stairs on the library’s exterior.  THUNK!  Gail clocked a soldier-for-hire over the head with a nearby wooden crate.  The enemy returned fire, but the Galloways were too quick.  They weaved between the puffs of smoke erupting at their feet and ran out of sight.

The main thoroughfare of Alexandria was bustling with horses, pedestrians, and automobiles.  Hopefully, the Galloways could disappear into the urban landscape.  However, with the foreign soldiers hot on their heels, that prospect seemed unlikely.  They would have to find a quick way back to the Aboukir Airfield.

Amidst the bustling marketplace of the city, the siblings happened upon an unguarded motorcycle and sidecar.  With a few kicks, the bike sputtered and coughed up black smoke.  Before the owner could protest, Grant accelerated his vehicle and zoomed ahead.  Gail called out to the man.  “Sorry!” she said pitifully, tossing a handful of Egyptian money into the air as they left.

Gail’s hair and scarf were buffeted about by the rough ride through the city streets.  She gripped the lip of the sidecar with one hand and the chest containing the emerald tablet of Thoth in the other.  Every loose pebble or slight elevation in the road caused the bike to jolt violently.  It would be a blessing if they made it to the airfield in one piece.

Gunshots whizzed overhead.  Some shattered nearby pots or jars on display in the marketplace.  Gail turned and saw a military truck loaded with hired guns tearing through the streets after them.  It blasted through wooden carts and forced civilians to hurl themselves away to escape.  A few men leaned out from the windows, firing their rifles.

“Who are these guys?!” said Grant, veering around obstacles in the road.  These soldiers of fortune were not just treasure hunters, he thought to himself.  Why did they care so much about this one artifact?  No matter.  His thoughts returned to the task at hand: keeping him and his sister alive.

BZZZING!  A bullet ricocheted off the sidecar.  Gail quickly ducked out of sight.  From her hiding place, she noticed the latch tethering the sidecar to the motorcycle was loose.  This gave her an idea.  As they roared down the streets, Gail tugged at her brother’s arm and motioned for him to swerve off into a narrow alley.

“Are you crazy?” he yelled over the screaming engine, “We’ll be sitting ducks!”

“I’ve got a plan!  Trust me!” said Gail.  Grant shrugged his shoulders and directed their bike down the alleyway.  As they entered the alley, shaded by several awnings, Gail snagged a hanging oil lamp from a passing vendor stand.  She hoisted herself up from her seat and quickly emptied the lamp into the wooden base of the sidecar.

The enemies had followed after them.  Their truck plowed through the alley, obliterating everything in its path.  Awnings were ripped from the walls.  Wooden planks were reduced to splinters.  Pheasants and fowls fluttered to safety, leaving clouds of feathers in their wake.  The chaos and confusion gave Gail enough time to seat herself behind her brother, retrieve the small lighter from her satchel, and set fire to a small rag.  This rag would slowly burn, creating a delayed ignition.  If she timed this just right, she could finally rid her and her brother of these troublesome gunmen.

“Okay, when I tell you, veer left and then right,” said Gail.  Grant nodded.  “On the count of three.  One…two…three!”  At that moment, Abigail removed the latch of the sidecar.  The motorcycle zig-zagged sharply, causing the sidecar to break away.  The burning rag had set the oil-soaked wood ablaze.  The sidecar was now a tumbling fireball hurdling directly in front of the pursuing truck.

The soldiers of fortune could not swerve out of the way.  The narrow walls of the alley trapped them in.  All they could do was watch helplessly as the flaming sidecar rolled under their front tires, flipping the truck onto its side.  It crashed into a stone wall, its metal frame buckling against the violent force.  The burning oil soaked the canopy of the military vehicle.  It burst into flames, sending all of the occupants crawling to safety like roaches escaping sunlight.

“Bullseye!” squealed Gail, patting her brother on his shoulder.  Tucked between the two siblings was the bronze chest, finally safe from those murderous brutes.  In that moment of reprieve, Gail pondered about the artifact.  Why did those men want it so desperately?  Were they also aware of the connection between Thoth and Excalibur?  Were they seeking the “flame from heaven”?  Did her late father, seeking to uncover the mysteries of the past, unknowingly venture down a path fraught with peril?

At Aboukir Airfield north of Alexandria, the Galloways raced onto the concrete airstrip.  Their flight was waiting for them…or so they hoped.  Between the pristine aircraft was a rickety Farman F.70 mail transport plane.  The green paint of its wooden fuselage had seen better days.  The same was true of its pilot.  Emmanuel Mercier was his name.  Coiled up in the cockpit, he snored loudly, his bushy white mustache damp from alcohol.  In his drunken stupor, he failed to hear the siblings cry out for him to fire up the engine.

Abandoning their borrowed bike, the Galloways pounded on the sides of the plane, yet the noisy rattling did not rouse Mercier from his nap.  Fuming, Grant doused the pilot with his canteen.  Emmanuel jolted forward, cursing in French and fumbling for his flask.

“Qu'est-ce que tu fais?” Said Mercier, “Je n'ai dormi que quelques minutes, je le jure!”

“You can get your beauty sleep back in Nice,” said Grant, “But right now, get us airborne…Vite!”  After a few awkward attempts at starting the engine, the plane was eventually awoken.  Its propeller purred loudly as Grant slammed the door to the fuselage shut.  Taxiing slowly onto the runway, the plane’s wheels groaned, clogged by the sands of Egypt. Getting airborne would be an interminable affair.

Inside the plane, surrounded by mounds of undelivered letters and parcels, Abigail fastened herself to one of the tattered passenger seats.  She peered out of the smudgy window and saw another military truck approaching the gates of the airfield.  There wasn’t much time left.

“Emmanuel, hurry!” she yelled.  Mercier tried his darndest to keep the plane straight as it accelerated down the runway.  The Farman F.70 was just as inebriated as its pilot, drifting right and left, right and left.  With a sluggish pull of the center stick, the plane was lifted off the ground.  It glided over the perimeter fence of the airfield, soaring above the second military truck.  Its passengers exited and began firing rounds at the plane.  The shots pinged off its wings.  One struck the window, shattering the glass.  It didn’t matter.  The Galloways were safe at last.  Grant and Gail watched as the plane ascended towards the great blue sky, leaving their attackers down below in a brown haze.

“Well done, Manny!” said Grant.

"I expect extra payment for the broken window," said Mercier in slurred and stilted words.

"Don't worry. You'll get your money as soon as we claim our prize," said Grant, stumbling through the cabin of the plane.  Piles of letters were strewn about his feet as he tiptoed to where his sister sat.  She set the bronze chest on an overturned basket.  “Now then, let’s pray we didn’t go through all of that for nothing,” he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.  The two siblings pried at the box with pocket knives until its lid popped open.  Strange.  An odd smell emanated from inside the chest; not a moldy or rotten scent, but a sweet aroma like that of tropical flowers or the salty spray of the sea.

Lying before them, partially wrapped in cloth and shining with an iridescent light, was the emerald tablet of Hermes Trismegistus.  It was roughly the size of a leather-bound book, semi-translucent and adorned in hermetic symbols and strange writing, unlike anything Gail had ever seen before.  Her breath was held in her throat as she marveled at this arcane artifact.  Grant’s eyes were filled with a verdant sheen but quickly lost their luster.

“I must say,” he began, “I was expecting it to be bigger,”

“So was I,” said Gail, studying the rough edges of the tablet.  It was evident that it was merely a fragment of a larger whole.  The Galloways’ hearts sank into their stomachs.  There was more to this mystery than either of them expected.  How many fragments were there?  Where were the other pieces?  What if this adventure brought them face-to-face with those foreign mercenaries once again?  And if that were to happen, what if fortune was not on their side?