Several wide columns supported a crumbling upper segment that appeared to be a roof terrace with only a piece of the pylon gateway surviving. Each column was lit with a soft yellow gleam that gave the whole building a haunted air, especially when the wind picked up and whistled between its cracks and crevices. It was almost as if the ghosts of priests and pharaohs from the past were whispering in the dark shadows of the columns.
Dr. Hassan pointed to my drawing. “The right side is called the House of the Crocodile, and this half is the Castle of the Falcon.”
“I thought this was the temple of Apophis, the crocodile god.”
“It is. But do you see the dividing line, right there?” He pointed to the building. “If you cut the temple in two, there would be equal parts on both sides. There are mirror entrances, two courts with a central altar in each, double hypostyle halls, an identical pair of colonnades, and one chapel for each side. Each section of the temple was managed by a different head priest.
“In ancient times the Nile ran much closer to the temple. Crocodiles, revered as sacred creatures, lounged in the hot sun on the riverbank next to the entrance. Later, when the Nile shifted, the crocodiles left. Regardless, there were and perhaps still are hundreds of mummified crocodiles in and around the temple grounds.”
“Interesting. But who was the second half of the temple dedicated to?” I asked. “Did it have something to do with Amon? I’m assuming it did because of the falcon.”
“Not Amon per se, but Horus—one of the gods who lent him his power.”
“But what are—?”
I was distracted when I heard Asten gasp, and whipped around. “What is it?” I hissed. “What’s happening?”
Asten took a deep breath and then schooled his expression. “It is no less than we expected. Gather your things. We must seek Ahmose.” Under his breath, he murmured, “Let us hope that the sacrifices were not in vain and that we will find him.”
Quietly, we made our way into the temple, searching in the dark shadows of the columns and looking behind any slab of stone big enough to conceal Amon’s brother.
“Amon and the dark minion of Seth are engaged on the other side of the temple. Ahmose is hidden here. At least, that is what he told Amon.”
“Will you be able to sense him?” I asked.
“I cannot hear his voice until he has been called from the realms of the dead. His body is no different from these ancient corpses’.” Asten pointed to a walled-in section covered with clear glass. Behind the glass, there were dusty dead crocodiles of various lengths.
“Ah, those are some of the crocodile mummies I mentioned,” Dr. Hassan pointed out.
“Thanks. I figured,” I whispered.
Asten had cloaked us, but there was no sign of Ahmose or a sarcophagus anywhere in the crocodile section of the temple. We checked every room, doorway, and standing stone, but encountered nothing except the sting of windblown sand.
“We are deceived,” Asten murmured.
“Well, yeah. The bad guy never shows his hand. Come on, let’s go rescue Amon,” I said, and took a step back toward the center of the temple, but Asten darted his arm out to stop me.
“It is too late,” he whispered.
“What do you…” I paused as the wind became more forceful. A dark cloud of sand swept the length of the open court in a whirlwind. “…mean?” I cheeped as Asten scooped me up in his arms and began to run.
Dr. Hassan darted around a large column and through a doorway. “Here, Great One! We can hide!”
Inside the dark room, we plastered ourselves against a wall, hoping to remain undetected. When the sandstorm passed by, we waited for several minutes. I looked up at Asten, who gave me a relieved smile. Just when we thought it might be safe, a tremor rocked the temple. The dirt floor beneath us sank several inches and I staggered against Asten, who caught me easily.