Pharaoh Ramses II considered the proposition for all of ten seconds. “No.”
“Father—” Moses began, but Ramses II cut him off with a chop of his crook.
“The Jews can be solved more easily than giving them to you. As far as the Hittites — let them come. We will drench the sands with their blood, as we have done to our enemies for as long as our family has ruled.”
“My lord,” Gwalcmai began, “it is not as simple as that.”
“And why not?” Ramses II demanded.
“There is the issue of the Judeans’ God,” Gwalcmai said.
Donnchadh was now hidden at the edge of the lush farmland about a kilometer south of the Giza Plateau. Sweat soaked her robes and she was breathing hard from her run to this location. From a leather pouch tied to her belt she removed a small black sphere, about forty centimeters in diameter. It was an Airlia artifact recovered on her world. It was one of many weapons the Airlia had used in the long war. Donnchadh’s fellow scientists had analyzed it and discovered that it was a microwave transmitter that could be tuned to a number of frequencies. It had been used as a weapon by the Airlia when set to a frequency that caused hemorrhages in human brains. However, it could also be used in other ways, one of which Donnchadh was getting ready to employ. She’d tested it before and now she used what she had learned.
She tuned it to a specific frequency, then pressed the ON button. Nothing apparent happened, but the flickering red light on the side told her it was transmitting.
Ramses II’s laughter echoed off the murals painted on the walls. “The God of the Judeans? Why should that concern us?”
Ramses III said nothing, having settled back onto his throne and reassuming his noble posture. His eyes glittered with malice as he stared at his half brother.
Gwalcmai opened his leather pack and took out a round object wrapped in gray cloth. He knelt and slowly unwrapped the grisly package, revealing Osiris’s severed head. The cat-red eyes stared at the Pharaoh and his son as if they were still alive.
“What is this?” Ramses III yelled. He gestured and several of the guards closed on Gwalcmai and Moses.
“This is not our doing,” Gwalcmai quickly said. “This is one of the Gods of the First Age of Egypt, before the time of even Horus. We found his body below Giza, in the Roads of Rostau.”
Ramses III drew his sword and took a step toward them, but he halted at a gesture from his father. “You walked the Roads?” the Pharaoh asked, his voice level.
Gwalcmai nodded. “We did, my lord. We found this one dead along with five others. There are no Gods left alive there.”
“Who killed them?” Ramses II demanded.
Gwalcmai shrugged. “That I do not know. But I fear the God of the Jews might have had something to do with it. They worship only one God, a powerful one apparently. And this God wants them freed and sent back to their homeland. This is another reason why it would be in your interests to do as your son, Moses, has requested.” He paused. “Lord, I have it from one of the Jewish priests that if you do not release them, their God will unleash a plague upon your land.”
Ramses II blinked, the first sign of concern that had crossed his face since they’d entered. Little cracks appeared in the rouge around his eyes. He seemed about to say something, when the sound of screams reverberating from thousands of throats made its way into the room.
This time there was no pretense. Ramses III ran to the nearest window, Moses and Gwalcmai right behind him. The Pharaoh remained on his throne, bound by tradition, but his head turned, following them with his eyes as the screams of his people struck his ears.
“What is it?” the Pharaoh demanded.
Ramses III replied, the word sending a chill through every Egyptian in the room, “Locusts.”
Donnchadh pulled the cloak over her head. It was as if she were in the middle of a fierce hailstorm as locusts smacked into the cloth, drawn by the Airlia black ball’s microwaves. They numbered in the millions, drawn in from all around, woken from their slumber by the Airlia transmitter. They descended into the fields, consuming all. Farmers futilely tried to stop the scourge, dashing out with brooms. It was like a stick placed in the way of an incoming tide.
From the Pharaoh’s palace, it looked as if a dark cloud had descended to the ground south of Giza, covering the fields. It had been many years since a plague of locusts had struck the center of Egypt. It had occurred once during the Pharaoh’s childhood. He still remembered the devastation as the creatures ate the fields bare. This, on top of the drought, could destroy his kingdom.
Ramses II stood. “Take them, Moses. Take the Judeans and never come back here.”
Donnchadh turned off the microwave transmitter. The battering against her cloak slowly subsided. She waited another five minutes, then pulled it aside. It was if ascythe had gone through the fields, taking everything down to bare stalks.
She felt a momentary twinge of guilt for the day’s events. She knew the higher goal they were trying to achieve would make today’s event shrink into nothingness over time, but that didn’t change the fact that she was responsible for the death of fellow humans. Donnchadh focused her thoughts on the Grail as she walked north, through the barren fields. Night was falling and tomorrow would be a new day. Tonight, there was more to do.
Moses was in the camp with the Judeans, meeting with their leaders, trying to get them to accept this unexpected turn of events and get organized, not an easy task. Despite the great opportunity of freedom they were being offered, the Judeans were a quarrelsome lot and there were those who feared this was some trick of the Pharaoh’s to get them out into the desert and let them starve to death.
Gwalcmai waited for Donnchadh in the darkness at the base of the Great Pyramid. As they had hoped, the Pharaoh had pulled his troops back to protect his palace and the city of Cairo to the north. With Gwalcmai were a half dozen Judeans armed with swords and wearing gray cloaks — those who had been in the forefront of the recent fighting with the Egyptians and who would prefer death to slavery. Moses had recruited them from the leaders with the promise that they would find important things under the plateau. They climbed up the side of the Great Pyramid and entered the Roads of Rostau through the tunnel entrance.
They descended through the massive blocks of stone that had been laid until they were into the solid stone below, which made up the plateau. They avoided the golden spider, hiding under their gray cloaks and remaining still as it cameby. The reliance on automated defenses had been one of the Airlia’s weak points on their home world, as every such system always had a loophole allowing it to be defeated. Of course, the vast difference in body counts between Airlia and human during the Revolution was largely due to figuring out those loopholes at the cost of blood.
They went down tunnel after tunnel, following the directions handed down through the Watcher records that Donnchadh had copied in England. Finally, they reached a stone door, which Donnchadh opened. They stepped inside into brief but total darkness, which was immediately dispersed as a five-meter-diameter orb hanging overhead came to life, throwing light throughout a large cavern.
They were standing on a ledge above the floor of the cavern. Both recognized the Black Sphinx crouching on the floor — the Hall of Records. The cavern was about six hundred meters across, the wall smoothly cut red stone, which must have been added after their last visit. The six Judeans were stunned by what they saw.
Stairs were cut out of the rock wall, leading from the ledge to the floor. Without a word, Donnchadh and Gwalcmai took them. Trembling, the Judeans followed. They headed between the large black paws to the statue of Horus that stood on a pedestal. There was a stone set against the pedestal. Donnchadh bent over and read the High Rune marking.