Preston, Douglas - The Pharaoh Key by Preston Douglas

Author:Preston, Douglas [Preston, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0763L6THT
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2018-06-12T05:00:00+00:00

25

AS THEY WERE herded along a faint trail, Imogen tried to speak again, but Blackbeard silenced her with a blow from the flat of his dagger. At length, they entered a ravine at the end of the valley and continued along a trail that skirted a cliff, with a drop on one side and a sheer wall on the other. A hot wind blew up from the depths of the ravine and a pair of ravens rode on the air, cawing at them before sweeping away.

Around the side of the cliff a small barren area came into sight, surrounded by scree slopes. A hideous spectacle revealed itself: a rough pit dug into the hard ground, surrounded by a semicircle of twisted wooden spikes on which human heads had been impaled. The heads were mummified, mouths agape, lips shrunken and drawn back from rotten teeth, with only hollow sockets for eyes. Some were clearly far older than others. Several ravens sitting on the spiked heads now rose into the sky, screeching their displeasure at being disturbed.

The crowd following them spread out and fell quiet, kneeling, heads bowed, waiting for the show to commence.

They were led to the edge of the pit. The ends of the leather ropes they were tied with were drawn tight, then staked into the ground on either side of the pit. Blackbeard took up a position behind them.

It was becoming all too clear to Gideon what was about to happen.

He began to mumble desperately, trying to speak through the foul gag, but nobody paid any attention. Imogen began speaking Arabic again, in a soft, pleading tone, but was also ignored.

The four men carrying the young woman and old crone now lowered the sedan chair to the ground, helping the crone out of it. Taking up her gruesome walking sticks, she shuffled forward with the presumed chief and came to a stop on the opposite side of the pit. She was joined by four old men in white robes, each with a long, forked beard. They looked like priests, it seemed to Gideon.

The crone, flanked by the old men, gave them what looked like a series of instructions or—perhaps—commands. Then she raised her withered arms to the sky, tilted her head back, and broke out in a strange, high-pitched wail that then turned into a sort of chant. The crowd dropped to their knees, heads bowed as the crone’s cracked voice echoed among the surrounding cliffs. Gideon tried not to look into the pit, but found that he could not help himself. In the gloom below, he could make out numerous corpses sprawled at the bottom, in various states of mummification. A few retained the rotting vestiges of Western clothing, but most wore Arab garb. All were missing their heads. Gideon took a shuddering breath. They were transgressors—and now they were going to be ritually beheaded, their bodies thrown into the pit, and their heads placed on stakes. What an end.

Three men appeared, each carrying a fresh wooden pole with sharpened ends.

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