3

At midnight in the bazaar, although almost all of the shops were shut, the streets still teemed with people, chattering incomprehensibly. Their eyes followed me as I wandered the narrow streets, concerned about what trouble this drunken Englishman was going to get himself into. I had drunk very little since that afternoon, but the streets were so unfamiliar in the dark I got lost several times. When I found Fared’s it was locked up tight, but a small Egyptian boy was sat outside. He lept up when he saw me and ran off, beckoning and smiling. I followed him for around twenty minutes before we came to a blacksmith. Blacksmiths tended to work at night to avoid the heat of the day, and a steady hammering could be heard from inside. I followed the boy inside, past the forge, and into a small back room. This was lit only by the orange light from the forge, and the heat was overwhelming. There was no furniture, and the floor was merely dirt. An old Egyptian man was seated on the floor. He did not stand up as I entered but smiled, and beckoned me to sit. There was no chair, so I sat leaning awkwardly against the wall. The stolen statue was on the floor in the centre of the room. The boy sat down also. The man started talking, and I was surprised that the boy was the interpreter from Arabic.

He told me that he knew of the tomb we had opened, indeed his ancestors had known of it for millennia. The Pharaoh inside was Nephren-Ka, and he told me the story passed down to him by his father of how Nephren-Ka and his chief priest Dozan-Ho-Tep had built the tomb.  They were dismayed that tombs built before theirs had so often been robbed, and even the great pyramids were empty. Spells had been written upon the walls, promising death and destruction to defilers. Some tomb robbers had fallen foul of physical traps, such as the pit I had seen, but magical curses extolling the gods to destroy robbers seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Dozan-Ho-Tep and his priests consulted widely, talking to the tribes to the Nubian tribes to the south, asking of the Greeks about their magic and consulting their Oracles. Finally the scattered tribes that roamed the desert told of the Forbidden City. It lay deep in the desert, and had crumbled countless millennia before even the Pharaohs rose. Those that built it were not men, but had consulted with inhuman gods from the distant reaches of the universe, and learned secrets that would drive men to madness. The priests asked the Bedouin to show them the Forbidden City. For enough gold and camels, they would take them there, but not enter themselves, and fled as the priests and their guard made camp among the antediluvian ruins. Cyclopean blocks of stone rose at irregular angles from the drifting sand, reminding the visitors of the bones of a hastily buried corpse. The carvings on the stones and in the preserved tunnels confirmed what the desert dwellers had rumoured of. Lizard-like inhuman monsters had built the city, and carved their likeness upon the walls. Deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels the priests probed, learning more of this lost civilization from the unending pictograms. However, the city had not been entirely deserted by its creators, and in the deepest tunnels the priests met them. All fled in terror except Dozan-Ho-Tep, who bowed before them. The ancient race had watched as the first men climbed down from the trees, and knew their weaknesses. They knew that they craved magical power, and for a price would give it to them. Dozan-Ho-Tep eagerly agreed that price and a third of the party that reached the Forbidden City would never leave, to become slaves and sacrifices for the monstrous ancient race. The rest left as soon as they could, but took with them back to the Nile the secret of how to contact the messenger of the outer gods.

Once back in Thebes, a new temple was constructed and baptised in the blood of a hundred human sacrifices. As the screams of the dying faded, the blood soaked knives of the priests were dropped in horror at the sight of the devil they had invited to earth. Dozan-Ho-Tep prostrated himself before Nyarlathotep, who merely laughed at his obsequience. ‘I know your desire’ were the only words he spoke, and the hollow resonance of his voice seemed to reach from one horizon to the other. He walked past them, outside the temple, and looked into the lake surrounding it. What were huge lizards that lazed in the hot water? Dozan-Ho-Tep explained they were the sacred beasts of Sobek, whose temple lay on the other side of the lake. Nyarlathotep ordered a dozen of the priests into the water, and without a word they obeyed. The drifting, scaly forms slowly smoothly moved toward them and one-by one they fell upon them. The priests were motionless as the powerful jaws tore their limbs off, and dragged them under. Nyarlathotep laughed out loud for several minutes, a sound that struck fear into Dozan-Ho-Tep. Nylarlathotep announced that he now knew how to grant the wish of the priest.

            The old man suddenly stopped talking, and the sudden silence jolted me. The blacksmith had stopped, and the room was overbearingly hot. The man pointed to the

statue I had taken from the tomb, on the floor in front of me. He then pointed to the wall opposite, and I started at the sight of a painting there. It was a mural of Sobek, in fact as I looked at it, I realised it was the twin of the mural in the tomb. As I watched I saw lines appearing by themselves of the bare plaster, in complete silence. Once the mural was complete, I wondered at the pristine lines, the colour so perfect it seemed to be glowing. The muscular human body and huge crocodile head held me transfixed. There was a quiet tearing sound, and the new-formed lines rippled and seemed to come away from the plaster. Suddenly the mural was gone, and there, in the room was the huge form of Sobek. His jaws gaped, and his small, inhuman eyes were indescribably evil, and fixed upon me. His dark muscular, human body was clothed in a small loincloth. He took a heavy slow step forward, and the old man jumped up, shouted words in an unknown language, made a strange sign with his left hand. The alien figure, staggered slightly backwards, and then was gone. The room again was empty but for the old man, the boy, the statue and myself. As soon as the apparition had gone, it was hard to believe it had ever been there. I stared dumbly at the old man, seated once more. He spoke again, slowly and quietly, and the boy translated again. ‘I can send him away for a short while, but as long as you have the statue, he will come for you. That is the curse of the tomb of Nephren-Ka. You must return everything that was taken from the tomb, and seal it once more’.