The Amulet of Power Read online

  “Just how many camels do we need?” asked Lara.

  “All of them,” said Omar. “We’ll turn them loose at midday, and they’ll find their way back here, but why give the villagers animals to ride if they decide to pursue us?”

  Then they each mounted a camel and turned toward distant Khartoum. As they rode deeper into the Sudan, Lara found herself wondering if there was anyone in the whole country besides her three companions who didn’t want to kill her.

  14

  The midday sun beat down upon the four travelers.

  Lara could almost feel the oppressive heat rising from the ground. She had donned her robes a few minutes after the sun came up, but they didn’t make her feel any cooler.

  Her camel was drenched with sweat, and was using so much energy just to walk that he had none left to bleat or fight her commands. The only positive thing was that as long as they walked near the Nile they didn’t have to conserve their water, and she’d already emptied her canteen twice since sunrise.

  “Shouldn’t we be traveling by night and sleeping during the heat of the day?” she asked Omar.

  “From this point on, we will travel by day and night,” he responded. “The sooner we get to Khartoum, the better able we will be to protect you from the Mahdists and the Silent Ones.” He paused, then asked solicitously, “I keep forgetting that you are not used to the heat. Will you be all right?”

  “If you can make it, I can make it.”

  “But we have lived in the desert all our lives,” Hassam pointed out.

  “Let’s see who quits first,” said Lara. She turned back to Omar. “How safe will we be when we approach the next few villages?”

  “Most have no electricity, and cell phones have not yet made their appearance in the desert. They will not know that we had to escape from the last village.”

  “Someone might have ridden ahead to tell them,” suggested Lara. “A horse can make better time than a camel, at least for a few hours.”

  “I did not see any horses in the village,” answered Omar. “Besides, the land is absolutely flat and covered by sand. If a rider tried to pass us and alert the villages up ahead, he’d have to be many miles inland so we wouldn’t see all the sand he raises, and even a horse can’t spot us that much distance, nor can he stay that far from water.” He shook his head. “No, the main danger we will face from the upcoming villages is that they will come to the same conclusion as the last one: that they don’t want anyone to find the Amulet.”

  “Or perhaps they’ll be Mahdists,” added Gaafar.

  “Well, at least they won’t spot me as an Englishwoman right away,” said Lara, indicating her robes. “I’m back to being a teenaged boy again.”

  “From a distance, the disguise is good,” said Omar. “But up close, it will not work so well.”

  “I have an idea,” said Lara.

  “Most of your ideas have been just fine,” said Omar. “Let us hear this one.”

  “I suggest that when the people of the next village come out to greet us, the three of you explain to them that I’m slow-witted, that I don’t speak and barely understand. Say that it’s my job to tend to the camels. I’ll water them and walk them to the far end of the village, where I’ll wait for you. If any children wander up, I’ll just smile rather stupidly and not react to anything they say.”

  “I knew you were exceptional from the first moment I saw you!” said Omar enthusiastically. “It will work!”

  Lara’s camel bleated as if in agreement. Everyone laughed, and Lara said, “I’m glad Secretariat here approves.”

  “Secretariat?” asked Gaafar. “Another American racehorse?”

  “One of the greatest,” said Omar. “But we must give your camel a good Arabian name.”

  “I can’t call him El Khobar,” she said. “We’ve used that one already.”

  “Let me think,” mused Omar, idly stroking his chin as he contemplated. Then suddenly his face lit up. “I have it!” he said. “We passed one of the Aga Khan’s palaces just before reaching Aswan. We will name this one Nasrullah, after the Aga Khan’s greatest horse.”

  “I know that name,” said Lara. “Wasn’t he imported to America?”

  “Yes,” said Hassam. “He sired many champions, including Bold Ruler and Nashua. He was even in the pedigrees of your beloved Seattle Slew and Secretariat.”

  “Bold Ruler and Nashua,” she repeated. “I’ve read about them. You certainly know your racehorses.”

  “All Arabs know horseflesh,” answered Omar. “There can be no more valuable possession than a fine horse—except for the Amulet of Mareish.”

  15

  They traveled south along the Nile for three days without incident. No one came after them—at least, no one caught up with them—and Lara, portraying a slow-witted boy, drew no attention at the next seven villages they passed through.

  “Why do you keep looking behind us?” asked Omar as they continued their journey.

  “I’m looking at the river,” answered Lara.

  “I know,” said Omar. “But exactly what is it that you expect to see?”

  “It’s what I hope I don’t see—the Amenhotep,” she said. “If it passes us, Kevin will get to Khartoum before we can let him know where I’ll be.”

  “Then he will check into the Hilton, where all the Americans and Europeans stay, and we will get word to him.”

  “And hope he doesn’t lead our enemies directly to us,” added Gaafar.

  “We will see to it that he doesn’t,” replied Omar.

  They rode a little farther, and then Lara turned back to Omar.

  “I have a question,” she said.

  “I will answer it if I can.”

  “You tell me there may be more than a million Mahdists,” she began.

  “That is correct,” said Omar. “What is your question?”

  “They constitute quite an impressive force, with or without the Amulet,” said Lara. “So my question is: Why has no one heard of them?”

  “I have heard of them,” said Omar. “You have heard of them. Your friend Mason has heard of them.”

  “Spare me your catalog,” said Lara, holding up a hand. “What I mean is why has almost no one beyond the immediate area of the Sudan heard of them? A movement like this should be worldwide news.”

  “Can one in ten Americans or Englishmen even find the Sudan on a map? Can one in twenty tell you what country Khartoum is in?” Omar smiled bitterly. “We have no oil. We are not white by the standards of white nations. We are not Christians. We cannot militarily threaten Europe or the United States.” He paused. “What happens within our borders is simply not news to the rest of the world. Everyone here knows of the Mahdists—but until word came to us of the possibility that the Amulet might be in the Temple of Horus, there was no Mahdist activity beyond our borders. Why should they fight and die to gain ascendancy now, when it cannot be denied them if they possess the Amulet?”

  “Furthermore, it is our sworn duty to stop the Sudan from becoming news,” added Gaafar. “For if the Amulet should fall into the hands of the wrong man, of a new Mahdi, then indeed will the world learn who the Mahdists are and where we are.”

  “Well, you have one thing in your favor,” said Lara.

  “And what is that?”

  “The Mahdists have been searching for it for more than a century. If they had any legitimate leads to go on, they’d have found it by now. If it’s a race between us and them, I’d put my money on us. I may not know much about the Amulet, but I know an awful lot about finding lost and hidden artifacts. I think that gives me an advantage over people who may know far more about the Amulet, but who have proven over more than a century that they’re not very good at finding things.” She paused. “I still don’t understand why, if the Amulet is so powerful, the Mahdi wasn’t ruling the whole world within a year of possessing it.”

  “He didn’t understand its full power or how to unleash it,” said Omar. “Yet even in his ignorance, h
e controlled a million square miles as a relatively young man. Since that time the Mahdists have studied his writings and his teachings, have learned the history and secrets of the Amulet—and believe me when I tell you that they will know how to make maximum use of it.”

  Lara had seen enough inexplicable things in her adventures that she was willing to suspend judgment as to the magical qualities of the Amulet until it was actually found and examined. Just for a moment, she found herself wishing that Von Croy was here to exchange ideas and observations and help her sort things out. She was going to have quite a story to tell her mentor when they saw each other again. If I survive that long, she thought grimly.

  A sudden wind blew across the bleak, barren landscape. It became stronger and stronger, and Omar climbed down from his camel. Gaafar and Hassam followed suit, and they signaled Lara to do the same.

  “The wind comes from the west,” said Omar. “Make your camel kneel and position yourself beyond him, so that he protects you from the sand.”

  “Kneel, Nasrullah,” she commanded. The camel stood perfectly still, and she realized she had spoken to him in English and he only understood half a dozen words, all Arabic. She changed languages, the camel knelt, and Lara lay up against him as the sand swirled around them.

  And then, suddenly, the sand seemed to coalesce and take shape. She found herself looking at a towering, humanlike but totally inhuman creature about ten feet tall. It approached to within twenty yards of her and made a vague gesture with its right arm.

  “He threatens!” whispered Hassam.

  “No, he beckons!” said Gaafar.

  Lara pulled out one of her Black Demons and emptied the full clip into the sand monster. It paid no attention as the bullets whistled through its insubstantial body, but waved its arm again.

  “What do you want?” she yelled.

  But suddenly, almost magically, the storm subsided, and the creature once more joined the sand floor of the desert.

  “What was that?” said Lara. “Something else from the Mahdist sorcerers?”

  “No,” said Omar. “I think it was the Amulet itself. It knows that you are searching for it, just as Abdul said.”

  “Was it urging me on or trying to frighten me away?”

  Omar shrugged helplessly. “Only time will tell. Did it frighten you?”

  “Do I look frightened?” she said angrily, inserting a fresh clip into the pistol. “I put fifteen bullets into it.” She stared at the now-empty place where she had last seen it. “Maybe next time I’ll try a bucket of water.”

  The four of them got to their feet, allowing their camels to do the same. They mounted and began riding, but after another quarter hour Lara pulled her camel to a stop and dismounted.

  “I’ve got sand and grit in my hair, in my eyes, all over me,” she complained.

  “We all do,” said Gaafar. “One learns to live with it when traveling in the desert.”

  “Why should you?” demanded Lara. “There’s a great bathtub thirty yards away,” she continued, pointing to the Nile. “I’m going to rinse myself off.”

  She removed her robes, and put her holsters and pistols in her saddle pack. Then she slipped off her boots, leaving the knife called the Leopard’s Tooth in the right boot. When she looked up, she noticed that all three men had turned their camels so that their backs were to her. “It’s all right,” she announced. “I’m not getting out of my shorts and shirt. I just want to wash my arms and face and hair.”

  As the men turned their camels back and allowed them to approach the Nile and drink from it, Lara walked into the water until it was up to her shoulders, then lowered herself and completely submerged herself. She scrubbed the sand out of her hair with her fingers as best she could, then rubbed her arms and legs vigorously. When at last she felt she was finally clean—or at least as clean as she was likely to get—she turned back to shore.

  That was when she discovered that she and her three companions were no longer alone.

  Five men, all mounted on horseback, had ridden up while she was in the water. They all wore robes similar to Omar’s and her own, and each carried a rifle in a sheath.

  Lara climbed out of the water and approached them.

  Well, there’s no sense pretending I’m a boy. There’s probably no reason to pretend I’m retarded either—but I don’t know what Omar’s told them, so I’d better be careful and play it by ear.

  “Bashira,” Omar said as she walked up, “these are men of the village of Sulikhander.”

  “I am honored to meet you,” she said in Arabic.

  “An accent,” noted one of the men, who seemed to be their leader.

  I’m not tanned enough to pass as a native. What do I say to that?

  “I am a Circassian,” she said at last, claiming membership in the one very pale-skinned race that inhabited the North African countries. “This is not my native language.”

  “They are going to a great gathering of the Mahdists,” continued Omar quickly, eager to get out the information before she made a verbal misstep. “We have been invited to join them. I told them that of course we are Mahdists too, but we have urgent business south of Khartoum.”

  “This is true,” affirmed Lara. “But like you, we count the days until the appearance of the Expected One.”

  She noticed all five men staring disapprovingly at her.

  “You are a shameless woman,” announced the leader, “to appear thus in front of grown men.”

  “I did not know you would be joining us,” answered Lara. “And they are my family.”

  She walked to her camel and began donning her robe, which she had left slung over the saddle. Next came the boots, with the Leopard’s Tooth still hidden inside the right one.

  “How can they be your family if you are a Circassian?” demanded the leader suspiciously.

  “They are my family by marriage,” answered Lara. She pointed to Omar. “He is my husband.” Then to Gaafar and Hassam. “And they are his brothers.”

  “Something is not right here,” said the man. “He did not say you were his wife. . . .”

  “You didn’t ask me,” interjected Omar.

  “You claim to be Circassian, but no Circassian woman wears such shameful clothing even under a robe.”

  “How many Circassian women have you seen without their robes?” asked Lara.

  “And you are impudent,” continued the leader.

  “You are wasting our time,” said Gaafar. “We have important business elsewhere.”

  The leader frowned. “There is nothing more important than paving the way for the Expected One. What kind of Mahdists are you?”

  “Late ones,” said Omar. “And our business has to do with the Mahdi.”

  “What is it?”

  “I am not at liberty to discuss it,” said Omar. “But be assured that were we not devout Mahdists who have the trust of our leaders, this duty would not have fallen to us.”

  “Your answers are almost too facile,” said the leader. He looked from Omar to Lara and back again, then sighed. “Still, I could be wrong.”

  “Then we have your permission to leave?” asked Omar.

  “Yes. Go in peace.”

  Lara grabbed her camel’s reins. “Kneel, Nasrullah.”

  “What did you call him?” asked the leader sharply.

  “Nasrullah,” said Lara. Then, contemptuously: “Have you never heard of him?”

  Suddenly five rifles were out of their sheaths and pointing at Lara and her party.

  “In answer to your question,” said the leader, “every Arab knows Nasrullah. He was the Aga Khan’s greatest stallion.”

  “Then what—?”

  “The Aga Khan made war against the Mahdists,” explained the leader with a nasty smile. “No Mahdist would ever give a horse or a camel that name. And if you are not a Mahdist,” he continued, “you are almost certainly not a Circassian. And if you are not a Circassian, then your name is not Bashira. But I know what your name must be.” H
e paused. “I think you and your companions are coming to our gathering after all, Lara Croft.”

  16

  They rode slowly across the desert, inland from the Nile. The leader, who informed them that his name was Rahman, rode alongside Lara.

  “You could save yourself a great deal of pain if you would simply tell me where the Amulet is,” he said.

  “If I had it, do you think you could have captured us?” she shot back.

  “I did not say you had it,” he replied. “But you are Lara Croft, whose fame has reached even the Sudan. If you do not have it, you at least know where it is.”

  “I know you’re not going to believe this,” said Lara, “but I not only don’t know where it is, I don’t even know what it looks like.”

  “If you keep lying, it will go hard with you,” he said seriously. “Very hard indeed.”

  “You’ve already told me you’re going to kill me if I don’t tell you what you want to know,” she said. “How much harder can it go?”

  “Harder than I hope you can imagine, Lara Croft,” answered Rahman.

  “I must say that you are certainly encouraging me to find it.”

  “Just tell me where it is and I will retrieve it.”

  “I have no idea where it is, but once I find it, you in particular are going to wish I hadn’t.”

  He laughed humorlessly. “After we kill you and these three false believers who have accompanied you, we will force Kevin Mason to deliver the Amulet to us, so you see that you cannot keep it from us. Why do you persist in defying me?”

  “I don’t like your beard,” said Lara.

  “My beard?” he repeated, surprised.

  “Or your face, or your breath, or your manners, or your threats.”

  He laughed again, this time in genuine amusement. “I admire your spirit, Lara Croft. I say this in all sincerity. It is almost a shame that it will so soon be separated from your broken, shattered body.”

  “You talk too much.”

  “And you do not talk enough,” replied Rahman. “I will ask you one last time: Where is the Amulet?”