Sol Invictus Read online

  “So there was no bee?” Mom asked, her hands held to her chest, her eyes darting around as if a giant alien bee named Bubba was going to pounce on her at any minute.

  That gave Dad a laugh. “No bee, honey.” He snorted at his own unintentional joke. “No bee. Honey. Get it?”

  Mom groaned. “Clever.”

  “At least he didn’t joke it was a snake,” John said.

  Mom glared at him. “Don’t you even . . .”

  John gave a widemouthed goofy laugh and went galloping into a new row. Sarah admired some flowers with creamy-white petals flaring out from bulbous yellow cores laden with rich pollen like a solar corona.

  Her parents turned to follow John, leaving Sarah facing the opposite direction. As she spun to join them, out of the corner of her eye she noticed a figure in the shadow near a white alabaster column.

  Staring at her?

  She did a quick double take and saw the man wore a full-length Egyptian robe with a covering for his head. And he was definitely staring in her direction.

  Her parents suddenly seemed a little too far away, so Sarah quickened her pace. She glanced back over her shoulder to catch another glimpse of the man, but he was gone.

  Inside the museum, Sarah played it cool. At first, she mostly kept an eye out for other kids her age—especially twelve-year-old boys—but this ancient history stuff actually interested her very much. Not that she’d let anyone know that.

  “Eww,” she let slip, reading about ancient Roman public bathrooms and the sea sponge on a stick. People would use it to wipe, then dunk it in a bucket of plain or salt water for the next person to use. Ancient TP.

  Sarah stuck out her tongue. “Gross.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught John approaching, so she quickly put her face back to neutral and turned the other direction. The artist’s rendering now in front of her was of a boy—probably a little older than her—with icy-blue eyes and long hair the color of a drying carrot, light orange, tied in a knot at one side of his head. Sarah had never seen that style of hairdo before, and for a millisecond she imagined it in her own red hair.

  Nope.

  “Wonder what happened to his hand,” John said, now standing beside her.

  The comment tugged at Sarah’s curiosity, so she looked down past the boy’s bare chest at his right arm. Sure enough, there was only a stump. Secured to his right forearm with tight leather straps, a dull shield. In his left hand, a squat short sword. He wore thick woolen pants and what looked like animal-fur boots. The way he stood on the lichen-covered rock in the picture, with one foot in front of the other, gave him a regal appearance. Sarah’s gaze was drawn again to his face, to his pale blue eyes.

  “Pretty mountains,” John said, obviously trying to get her to say something. She hadn’t even noticed the towering peaks in the background of the picture until he pointed them out. John spoke again, reading the caption underneath the painting: “Crocus. A leader of the Germanic people called the Alem—Annie—”

  “Al-ah-ma-nee,” Sarah said. “Alemanni.”

  “Alemanni,” John repeated. “Who led an uprising against the Roman Empire in the late third century and was responsible for a great deal of destruction throughout Gah—uuu—l.”

  “Like ‘ball,’ but ‘Gaul,’” Sarah helped.

  John looked sidelong at her. “Thanks.”

  They stood in silence for a moment. Sarah swore the boy in the painting was looking at her. Was that subtle smirk there before?

  “Crocus,” John continued reading, “ended up siding with the emperor Con—stan—tee—us—”

  “Con-stan-shus.” Sarah shifted her weight.

  “Constantius,” John said.

  Sarah rolled her eyes, tired of the lessons. She crossed her arms. Her parents were in the hall watching a video at a kiosk. She didn’t not want to be around her little brother, but nor did she want to be around him either. Yes, it was very confusing.

  John kept reading out loud, but Sarah started humming to herself and sidled away without him noticing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Preparing for the Trip

  JOHN

  John realized right away that Sarah was leaving, but he chose to ignore her departure and kept reading about Crocus. Interestingly, though originally an enemy of Rome, Crocus influenced the dying Roman emperor Constantius to choose his own son Constantine as the next ruler in 306 CE and—okay, boring. John wanted to read more about the uprising and the “great deal of destruction.” And how had the boy lost his hand?

  The twinkle of a gold coin caught John’s eye. An amateur coin enthusiast, he already held quite a collection of about a hundred coins, including buffalo nickels, wheat pennies, and a liberty dime from 1916. This gold coin in the glass display case had the bust of the emperor Constantius engraved into it with the Latin redditor lucis aeternae, which the placard said meant “restorer of the eternal light.”

  John didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded cool.

  He spun around, eager to tell his sister about the find. Sarah turned a corner and disappeared. John was about to follow but shot a look back to his parents, who were still engaged in their video. Following Sarah meant he’d be out of sight from their parents, and John knew that was not a wise choice in a busy public place like this. Still, his urge to be with his sister won out and he followed her.

  In a side room designed for kids hung racks of costumes. Sarah had slipped on a white sleeveless dress under a sign that said “Stola” and was picking through a pile of shawls labeled “Palla.”

  On the far wall, John’s eye caught the swords, shields, spears, three-pronged pitchforks called tridents, and other weapons and armor of the gladiators. He ran over to a poster showing the various types of fighters and read how each type of gladiator was equipped with a specific set of gear and typically pitted against a specific kind of opponent.

  “Wow,” he muttered. He never knew such an elaborate system of warrior classes existed for those who fought in the arena.

  One particular group caught his attention: The venatores. Not technically considered gladiators because they didn’t fight humans, the venatores were hunters who battled with animals—lions, bears, tigers, elephants, crocodiles . . . John cringed, remembering the dangerous waters of the Nile and the crocodile that had hunted him!

  He contemplated whether he’d rather fight an animal like a lion or a crocodile in the ring, or another human. He grimaced at either choice.

  Sarah was puzzling with the palla—a long length of fabric—trying to follow the directions to wrap it around her body.

  John pulled a tunic made of thick wool over his head. It sort of reminded him of the one he’d worn in ancient Egypt—not very different, actually, but thicker. He grabbed a leather belt upon which hung a scabbard for his short sword. A table with various helmets and headgear offered many choices, and John considered the crown with radiating golden spikes like the rays of the sun. It said this was the type of crown some Roman emperors wore to honor Sol Invictus—the “Unconquered Sun,” the official sun god and one to whom the soldiers prayed for victory on the battlefield.

  “Sun god,” John mumbled, subconsciously fingering the eye of Ra pendant under his tunic—Ra being the ancient Egyptian sun god.

  “What d’you think?” Sarah turned around in the white stola dress and aquamarine palla hanging over her shoulders. She held a short stubby staff with an eagle at the top—a scepter.

  John chuckled. He handed Sarah the Sol Invictus crown. “Put this on and you’ll look like the Statue of Liberty.”

  She must have liked the crown’s gold bling because she snatched it out of his hand and secured it on her head, holding her neck high with her chin cocked to the side. A floodlight from above shone down on her and glinted off the Sol Invictus crown.

  “Wow,” John muttered.

  “Bow, slave,” she said.

  Fitting, John thought, and turned back to the table of helmets. He selected a Roman legio
nary model made of bronze and with a broad plate at the back to protect him from a sword attack to the neck, two strips of steel arcing down over his cheeks.

  The round wooden shield painted in red for the god of war, Mars, with a yellow lightning bolt fitted nicely on his arm. The weight of it sent an electric thrill. Fully outfitted in helmet, shield, and sword, his protective armor emboldened him.

  John turned to Sarah, weapon raised, ready for the fight.

  Sarah struck a regal pose, scanning John up and down. “I commanded you to bow, slave,” she teased.

  John scowled and braced himself in an offensive stance, his sword poking out from the top of his shield. “I fight for my freedom!”

  “Ooh, fierce,” Sarah teased some more, but with a grin.

  John lunged at her, ready to slay his opponent. Sarah swung the scepter and parried his thrust, then positioned herself for a duel, one hand behind her back.

  As John was about to attack again, a figure suddenly appeared from the shadows behind Sarah. It startled John and knocked him out of focus, but he regained his composure and threw his shield up to fend off Sarah’s crashing blow. When he lowered his shield, he saw the figure move toward them—a man dressed in a full-length robe and a hood hiding his face. This distracted John further, but he knew he couldn’t let Sarah win this battle to the death.

  As he swung his sword, the stranger flipped his hood off and stared at John.

  Okay, that was unnerving. John couldn’t help but return the man’s stare and—

  Could it be? Was that—? No, no, it can’t be.

  John tried to voice a warning to his sister, but his brain had temporarily shut down from the complete surprise.

  Apparently the shock on his face conveyed the message because Sarah turned toward the man and gasped.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Chosen

  SARAH

  Sarah instantly recognized those distinct green eyes sunk into that deeply tanned and wrinkled face, the long beard dappled with gray.

  Aten.

  The man who had been covered in a rockslide and then taken away by police. The tomb robber. The ancient Egyptian time traveler. Memories of their last adventure barraged Sarah’s brain like an overwhelming lightning storm. Then her survival reflex blared in alarm.

  She swung the scepter toward Aten, and the man recoiled.

  “Stay back!” Sarah shouted.

  “You must go,” Aten said.

  “No, you must go,” Sarah replied, shaking the scepter and moving John behind her. Aten blocked their exit.

  “I am but a humble messenger sent by the gods.” He put both hands in the air and flicked his eyes toward the ceiling. “Sent by Ra and Khonsu, the gods of the sun and the moon, of light and travel.” He looked down to Sarah and John. “The gods have chosen you. And so you must go.”

  “What does that mean?” John asked. “How did you get out of jail?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Sarah said. “Let us leave or I’ll scream.”

  Aten grinned. “The gods visited me in my prison cell, where I swore allegiance to them. Yes, I was a thief and a liar, but I have seen the light of Ra and repented. It was they that gave us the power to travel through time. In return for my fealty, they rescued me from that foul place. I will not hurt you, but nor will I fail the gods. You will meet them too someday, when the time is right, and you will see. But for now, you will trust me because I have traveled through the eye of Ra just as you have.”

  The hairs on Sarah’s arm tingled.

  “They told me that your trip to Saqqara was merely a test, an introduction, and you succeeded. But now, for your first real mission, your quest—” He paused and leaned in so the light from above shadowed his deep-set green eyes. “You must unite Constantius and Crocus, but beware the one named Alex.”

  “Huh?” John asked, tugging on Sarah’s shirt from behind. “What is he talking about?”

  “Obviously nonsense.”

  “You must travel through time and space again. It is the only way. If you do not, or if you fail to bring Constantius and Crocus together, then the world as you know it is in grave danger.” Aten’s green eyes bored into them. “Grave danger.”

  “No, we can’t do that,” Sarah said, shaking her head, the scepter dropping an inch.

  “The gods say that you can, and you will.” Aten leaned back upright and put his hands together in his robe.

  “Unite Constantius and Crocus?” John asked.

  “And beware the one named Alex.” Aten nodded.

  “Why?” John asked.

  “The gods are wise and they command it so.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Sarah inhaled a deep breath and prepared to scream at the top of her lungs.

  Just then, a deafening blast made her cringe. She recognized the sound as a fire alarm, but she saw a shudder of panic shake through Aten.

  “What was that?” Aten said, fear trembling his words. He cowered with his hands over his ears.

  “Dad!” John shouted. “Mom!”

  Sarah knew his cries were drowned out by the alarm. He crouched as if he was preparing to bolt.

  Sarah swung the scepter low, trying to knock Aten off balance and out of their way, but she missed.

  “Use the pendant!” Aten urged, desperate pleading in his tone. “Hurry!” He started to move toward them. “You must.” He shook his hands together. “The gods say it is in your power to save their world, to save yourselves.”

  Sarah looked past the raving Aten toward the way they’d entered this room, hoping to see their parents. Or anyone. They needed help. They were in a back corner with no other museum visitors, and she couldn’t see out into the hallway beyond. This was bad.

  Two people passed in front of the doorway in a jog. Sarah screamed out, just at the exact moment another squawk from the fire alarm covered her plea for help. She grunted as the two people didn’t even turn to look.

  Adrenaline sizzled through Sarah’s veins. With hardly even thinking about it, she jabbed the scepter into Aten’s ribs. The man groaned.

  She used the split moment to jump past Aten.

  “No!” Aten cried after her. “You have to go together!” Aten flung his attention back to John and took a step toward him.

  Sarah stopped in her tracks. “Leave him alone!” She threw the scepter at Aten but it sailed past him.

  John stumbled and fell backward. The eye of Ra pendant dislodged from underneath his shirt.

  Aten stopped. “The eye of Ra.” He stared at John, transfixed. Another wail from the alarm didn’t shake him this time.

  Sarah couldn’t just leave her brother.

  “The pendant has the power,” Aten mumbled, reaching toward John with open hands.

  Another blast from the alarm jolted Aten out of his dreamy state. The desperation in his green eyes returned. He took another quick step toward John.

  And that was when Sarah noticed another shadow approaching.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Power in the Pendant

  JOHN

  John scrambled backward crab-walk style until he hit the wall. His helmet clattered to the floor, rattling his nerves. The man with the green eyes—the Egyptian Enigma the policeman had called him—approached with crooked fingers reaching toward John’s chest as if he were going to tear out his heart, a bloodthirsty sneer on his lips.

  Huddled against the wall, John clutched the pendant. What could he do?

  Where are Mom and Dad?

  He took one last look at Aten descending toward him and was about to close his eyes in surrender when he saw a huge man walk briskly into the room past Sarah and straight toward Aten. John gasped, hope filling his lungs.

  Help. This had to be help. Someone to save them.

  The huge man’s arms were as thick as tree trunks poking out of a tight gray shirt with ripped-off sleeves. One of his ears had a chunk missing so it looked pointed, as if he were elvish.

  The giant lifted an ancient ceramic amphora
jug from one of the Roman displays.

  John looked from the giant back at Aten, knowing he was about to get it.

  Aten squinted and must have seen the clue in John’s face. As the alarm’s strobe light flashed, Aten spun. The giant hurled the jug, but Aten dodged the attack. The amphora shattered on the ground.

  The strobe light flared.

  “Lucas,” Aten said, disbelief in his voice. “How’d you—?”

  “I followed you right out of that prison. You’re the smart one, remember?”

  “No—”

  “You don’t remember that you’re the smart one?”

  “No, I can’t believe—”

  “I thought that eye of Ra thing those two talked about sounded like a lot of fun. A real kick in the head, you could say. So I want it.”

  “You saw the gods?”

  “They didn’t look like gods to me,” Lucas said.

  “You saw them.” Aten’s face lit up. “No—no one believed me. They thought I made the whole thing up.” Aten shook his head, backing up from the approaching giant. “You don’t understand their power.”

  “Isn’t that why you’re here bothering these nice kids?” Lucas said, flipping his hand toward John and Sarah.

  John’s anxiety was shooting through the roof. Lucas obviously wasn’t a friend. But the exit wasn’t that far. He could make it. Right?

  He looked at Sarah, who was waving him over with clenched teeth and eyes the size of tennis balls.

  Lucas grunted and turned his head her way.

  Aten took the opportunity and grabbed the nearest thing to him—a wooden shield—and hurled it at Lucas. It clobbered into the back of his skull but barely moved his head. Lucas swung his meaty fist toward Aten, knocking the man in the shoulder. Aten stumbled a few steps before crashing into a windowed display, shattering the glass. The pieces tinkled onto the floor.

  The alarm blared. The strobe light flashed.