As they worked, the sky began to lighten in the east as the moon came up behind the jagged peak of Gebel Umm. As soon as it cleared the top, Gideon knew, it would become almost as light as day in the clear air of the desert. That light would be of great assistance in navigating the unfamiliar westward route through mountains and foothills to the far side of the range. If they pushed hard all the rest of the night, he figured, they would be well outside tribal territory by sunrise and therefore safe from pursuit. Once they reached the Nile, then they would face the additional challenge of smuggling the loot out of Egypt, but in quiet hours he and Garza had worked out what seemed like an almost foolproof scheme.
It was a matter of thirty minutes to fill the two panniers and the burlap top pack to bursting. The thief in Gideon felt rueful that they had taken so little, relatively speaking, and yet his conscience was glad that the vast majority of treasure would remain.
The eastern sky brightened as the moon rose behind the great outline of Gebel Umm. “Let’s pack this on the camel and go,” said Gideon.
“One more bag,” gasped Garza, staggering up the corridor under the weight of an alabaster bowl full of golden necklaces, earrings, and heavy bracelets.
“The pack’s too heavy already,” said Gideon.
“Just this one more,” Garza said, his face glistening with sweat.
Gideon shook his head. “Put it down. We can’t risk laming the camel—then we’d lose everything.”
With a muttered curse Garza left the bowl by the entrance. The two men lifted the heavy panniers full of loot and hooked them, one at a time, on the packsaddle’s metal rings. They hoisted the top pack in place and tied it down carefully with a linen cover. The camel groaned under the weight, its lips drawing back with displeasure, exposing its yellow teeth.
As they were about to mount up, Garza grabbed Gideon’s hand. “Just one thing.”
Gideon turned. “Yes?”
“What we talked about? Back there, in your tent?”
“What about it?”
“All that happened in the encampment—my marriage and the rest of it. Never bring that up again. What we’re leaving behind, stays behind. That’s past. It’s like you said: my new life starts right now, with this treasure. So don’t mention any of that again—to anyone. Ever.”
“You’ve got my word.”
Garza released his hand.
“Where’s Imogen?” Gideon asked.
“Son of a bitch, she said she was coming right out.” They dashed back into the chamber. Imogen was still crouched, notebook open, scribbling like mad with her improvised pencil, wisps of her hair escaping from beneath her head covering.
“Let’s go!”
“Give me a damn moment!”
They waited, Gideon becoming increasingly exasperated. “Come on.”
“I knew this was incredible, but…my God, I can hardly believe…” She mumbled to herself, her fingers flying over the pages as she copied the hieroglyphic symbols.
“Enough.” Garza reached down and took her arm. “Up, up.”
She tried to shake him off but he gently pulled her to her feet.
“Just one more line to copy.”
They waited while she finished sketching a last few hieroglyphics.
“Haul ass!” Garza said, some steel in his voice this time.
They almost had to drag her out of the chamber. Back outside, the limn of the moon was just creeping above the jagged top of Gebel Umm. They climbed onto their camels, the beasts lurching to their feet with the usual roaring and bellowing of complaint. The light of the moon now spilled into the valley, bathing it in a crystalline silver glow, as they turned toward the westward opening in the rock face and urged their camels forward.
Garza suddenly jerked to a stop. “Oh shit.”
Gideon followed his gaze to see, arrayed along the rimrock to the east, bathed in moonlight, a row of warriors astride camels. The massive form of Mugdol was at the fore, sword at his side, spear raised.
“Rash a’urbouji!” he yelled, stabbing the air with the spear as he whipped his camel into a gallop along the ridge, heading toward the trail into the valley, followed by his howling mob of warriors.
40
GO!” GIDEON CRIED, whacking his camel with the driving stick. The beasts hardly needed persuading, given the unholy shrieks of the horde on the ridgetop that filled the valley with bloodthirsty ululations. Gideon aimed his camel at the opening in the far rock wall and they galloped along the edge of the valley toward it. Looking over his shoulder, Gideon saw that Imogen was close behind, with Garza bringing up the rear, trailing the pack camel.
A galloping camel is more like a bucking bronco than anything else, and Gideon held on to the rings of his saddle for dear life as they went bounding and lurching across the sand. The pounding of the camels’ pads on the ground was like the beating of drums, accompanying the whoops and cries of Blackbeard and his warriors.
They entered the narrow canyon and the walls quickly closed in on them. Its bottom was a floor of sand and gravel, almost flat, with steep hills of eroded sandstone on either side. Gideon whipped his camel again, feeling sorry for the creature but terrified about what would happen if they were caught. Imogen remained close behind but Garza, hauling the pack camel, was having trouble keeping up, the riderless beast showing reluctance to run as fast as the others. Gideon was glad they had taken care to tie the packs of treasure down tightly; the camel’s motions were so violent, it seemed the panniers might fly off at any moment.
As they ran, bits of camel saliva flew back from the animal’s rubbery lips, speckling Gideon’s face and limbs. Their pursuers were now close to the bottom of the trail and would soon be chasing them on the flats—unfortunately, the carefully curated legends about the Valley of the Demons had obviously not deterred Mugdol from his revenge.
The narrow canyon made a gradual turn to the right, and then swung through a leftward arc. Thank God, Gideon thought, they had the moonlight to see by. But then again, every advantage they had, their pursuers had as well. If it became a flat-out race, they would lose. While Imogen had selected good camels, Blackbeard and his crew were far superior riders. They would inevitably catch up, and soon, and then the slaughter would commence.
Even as they raced along the canyon, Gideon’s mind was furiously turning over the possibilities. They did have one advantage: crossbows. Blackbeard and his gang didn’t even have simple bows—just spears and daggers. This would give them an edge as long as they weren’t forced into fighting at close quarters. But better to avoid a fight at all.
“We can’t outrun them!” Imogen cried from behind.
“I know—I’m thinking!”
“Think harder! They’re gaining!”
But Gideon found it hard to think while filled with terror and being thrown up and down like a rag doll. The canyon made another turn and the wadi sloped ever so slightly downward. A side canyon entered from the right, and another from the left, then more and more as dry washes began joining the main wadi on both sides. Could they flee up one of these? But their tracks would be obvious, and besides none of them looked promising—they all seemed to box up, which would leave them trapped.