The Undying Legion

He motioned Penny forward with him, heading deeper into the basement, looking for a way up into the house. They passed a brick slab in the corner, raised a foot off the dirt, littered with oaken casks, many holed, empty, and shoved to the side. The stone walls glistened with dampness. They were below the water line of the nearby Thames. He wouldn’t be surprised if the damn place flooded easily during heavy rains.

 

Penny touched his shoulder and pointed at stairs to the far right toward the rear of the house. Malcolm moved toward them, anxious to be out of the dirt-floored cellar. She stayed close on his heels as they went up. There was a closed door on the second landing. He listened for several minutes while Penny kept an eye behind them with the lantern. He tried the handle and found it was unlocked. Dim light spilled in as he opened it a crack. The hallway was empty so they darted in and quickly closed the door behind them. The corridor was simple and unadorned, likely the servants’ quarters. There was no sound of activity or any smells of cooking.

 

They weaved their way through the maze of halls, but still no one challenged them. Malcolm almost saw disappointment on Penny’s face. Anxiety rose in the Scotsman. Something wasn’t right.

 

A staircase curved up around a corner. The engineer indicated that Malcolm should lead on. He crept up the stairs. They had no real idea where to look for the box containing the Skin of Ra. It was unlikely it would just be sitting out. No doubt it was secured somewhere safe from prying eyes. They came up on the ground level. They were in an alcove just off the dining room. The table was set elegantly for eight, but the dishes actually had dust on them.

 

“Their guests are really late,” Penny jested.

 

They quickly surveyed the room, which produced nothing, then moved to the room adjacent. It was a study with an oaken desk that was covered with immense maps. Penny poured over them, studying the locations marked.

 

“Cairo. Calcutta. Java,” hissed Penny in amazement. “They certainly have been traveling a lot.”

 

“Find the box.” Malcolm was already rooting through the desk drawers.

 

Penny’s tongue clucked curiously as she regarded the objects on the bookshelves. Malcolm could hear her thrilled gasp all the way across the room.

 

She whispered, “Do you know what this is?”

 

“I know it’s not a box.”

 

“It’s a sextant.” There was wonder in her voice.

 

Malcolm glanced at her curiously. “Perhaps I overestimated your scientific knowledge.”

 

“It’s not a normal sextant. Look here.” Penny pointed to a mechanism attached to the brass, boasting intricate gears and a green vial of swirling gas. “This is aether inside a compression chamber. And the aether is guiding this pointer.”

 

“Can it find a box?”

 

“Blast it, you daft man! This was made by a damn fine mystical engineer.”

 

“Better than you?”

 

“Let’s not get irrational. This is their symbol. I’ve never heard of ’em.” There was a small design etched into the base.

 

“Put the blasted thing down and help me find the box.”

 

“All right, all right.” Penny checked her pack for room, but then returned the device to its place and continued rummaging to no avail. The box was not here.

 

It was the same for the next four rooms, so they moved to the east wing. However, when the door opened, they stared in amazement.

 

“Holy,” breathed Penny as she stepped inside. The vast room was empty and silent so even the barest of whispers still echoed across the chamber. “Are we still in London?”

 

A gigantic Egyptian temple, one to rival any true shrine nestled on the banks of the Nile, occupied the huge greenhouse. Mighty columns held up the ceiling thirty feet above their heads. The walls were lined with obelisks covered with ancient script and Egyptian carvings. Colors were rich enough to be breathtaking, with yellows that glittered like gold and blues that could match any desert sky.

 

A dais, like an altar, occupied the middle of the chamber. It was raised ten feet off the floor. Candles and urns surrounded it, all lit and smoldering as if someone had just left or was about to arrive.

 

“I’m going for a closer look.” Malcolm stepped forward but had to stop Penny with a strong hand as she moved with him. “Stay here.” His foot sank into sand. He realized the Mansfields had recreated the Egyptian desert inside this greenhouse. He felt exposed in the open chamber. The eyes of the paintings on the wall seemed to follow him as he walked toward the altar. He told himself the room was empty. He climbed onto the platform around the dais. The altar’s top was hollowed out slightly.

 

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