Tomb of the Mechanical Pharaoh

By Andrew Johnson

Imagine a world where Pharaonic Egypt never fell. A world where powerful sorcerers walk the streets and ancient spirits dwell in forgotten tombs. Rebecca Birch is thrown into this world. After facing disgrace at home, she is sent to assist her Egyptologist uncle in finding the lost tomb of Ramesses XVIII. Assisted by the mysterious Hawk Ramsey and the beautiful Simonetta Belzoni and a few fearsome Sekhmet priestesses, Rebecca finds herself caught in the middle of a power struggle that reveals new loves and old secrets and even draws the eye of the spirit of Ramesses himself...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Johnson
• Release date: Jul 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463807439

Andrew Johnson

Andrew Johnson was born in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, but now calls northern Arizona home. His short fiction has been published in various magazines and anthologies. When not making up stories, telling tales, or spinning yarns, he is an avid woodcarver and a published photographer.

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Prologue

From the Diary of Rebecca P. Birch

12 Nov. 1893

We have arrived in Athens just this morning.  I should like to see the Parthenon up close, but Harcourt insists that we must leave within the hour for Naukratis, Egypt.  Harcourt is a good Construct, but I wish my parents had sent me with a flesh and blood chaperone.

In light of my association with Evelyn, my smash back at school, my family is sending me to Egypt to assist my uncle in his work there. Oh, Evelyn, how I cherish the memories of our nights together still.  There is not one nerve fiber that does not remember her fondly and delight in her company.  How I miss her now.

Despite my melancholy at being forced from my home, I cannot help but delight at the prospect of adventure in this ancient land.  Although I have not seen him since I was small, my uncle is quite an important man, and perhaps I will be able to attend a Pharaoh’s Ball...

1

Rebecca Birch ran for her life through the dark alleys of Naukratis.  She leaned against a wall, trying to catch her breath and get her bearings, but every alley in this strange city looked the same.  She had no idea where Harcourt was.  They had barely stepped off the airship when the crowd overwhelmed them and Rebecca lost sight of her Construct chaperone.  Harcourt was programmed to protect her, but he was nowhere to be found.  Then a bunch of people started shouting in Egyptian and Rebecca found herself in the middle of a riot.  She had run toward the river, she thought, since that was where Uncle Edmond’s people were to meet them, but found herself hopelessly lost.

"Sheri! came a rasping voice.  Rebecca looked around and saw a shadowy figure hiding in the corner of an alley.  Ami nemoi!"

Rebecca wracked her brain.  Why hadn’t she studied her Egyptian better?  Come with me! she shouted out loud as the words suddenly made sense.  She looked back at the stranger.  "Thôn...?" she started.  Where...? Her thought was cut off by more shouting in the distance.

"Ami!" the stranger interrupted.  Rebecca followed his instructions and fell into step behind him.  He wore robes like a desert nomad, making it impossible to gauge what kind of man he was.  Given all the chaos she had encountered since landing in the cursed city, if this man was content to help her, Rebecca was more than happy to take it.

"Mi ek saji inglisi?" Rebecca offered.  Do you speak English?

The stranger ignored her as he single-mindedly wove through the back alleys of Naukratis before coming out onto one of the wider streets.  Rebecca could smell the river in the distance.

All at once, Rebecca’s rescuer stopped in his tracks and she ran into him.  He remained on his feet and Rebecca could feel no softness under the robes.  Thus was a lifetime of living in the desert, she thought.  She looked up at the stranger only to see he was pointing across a street to a tavern.

There? she asked.  Judging by the characters hanging out in front, it was hardly the place a young English lady like her should be.  You want me to go in there?

"Se."  Rebecca could make out a nod under the hood.

"Tikati an emmok," Rebecca said.  I do not understand you.

"Masheneh!" the stranger shouted, shoving Rebecca out into the street toward the tavern.  When she was halfway across she heard more shouting, closer than she would have liked.

"Ti sheri inglisi!"  The English girl!  The mob was still looking for her!  The tavern seemed as good a place to hide as any, so without another thought, she ran for the door.

Despite more than a few foreigners inside, Rebecca was instantly the center of attention.  She tried to ignore them and started slinking through the crowd, hoping they would go back to minding their own business.

You! Girl! A voice in English, never had Rebecca been so happy to hear her own language.  She scanned the room and saw a man waving at her.  He had the complexion of an Egyptian, but wore his hair longer than most Egyptian men.  He wore westernized clothes but his blue jacket also seemed out of place.  Over here! he said.  Rebecca negotiated her way through the crowd toward him, ignoring the other men brushing against her as she passed by.

Do I know you, sir? she asked, as she stood next to his table.  With his foot he pushed the chair out to her.

If your name is Rebecca Birch, I know your uncle.

And what would his name be? Rebecca asked.  The man in the blue jacket smiled.

Clever girl, he said.  Edmond Wallis, he’s been living and working here in Egypt for the last sixteen years.

And who would you be? Rebecca asked, taking the seat across from him.

Hawk.  My name is Hawk Ramsey, he said.  A rather un-Egyptian name, Rebecca thought.

Whatever Rebecca was about to say next was lost when two men burst through the door.  "Thôn te te-shemmo! Where is the foreign girl!" the one shouted.  Rebecca tried to sink into her chair.

The Ounam, Hawk muttered.  Great.

You know them? she asked.  Who are the Ounam?

I’m sure your guidebooks didn’t mention them.  Call themselves the Right Hand of the Pharaoh, although I’m sure the Pharaoh would be just as happy to be rid of them, with their love of nothing more than attacking Christians, Muslims and foreigners.

Might we...avoid them?

The Martyrs of St. Mark or Al-Ikwan, maybe we’ll be lucky and it’s some of them here they can pick a fight with.

Hawk looked around, but the Ounam seemed content to intimidate the various patrons.

Mr. Ramsey... Rebecca started.

No Troshresh either? The Socialists love to give the Ounam a good thrashing.

Egyptian politics are quite... Rebecca started.  Hawk flashed her a smile.

And those are just the more recognizable groups.

Where is the English girl?  The Ounam man stomped from one table to another, getting ever closer to Rebecca and Hawk.

Looks like we may have to fight the way out of this.  He brushed aside his jacket, giving Rebecca a view of a rather vicious looking hatchet with an elaborately decorated shaft.

A hatchet...?

Tomahawk, actually.

"Te shemmo!" the Ounam man shouted again.  His compatriot slapped him on the shoulder and pointed at Rebecca.  They started shoving their way through the crowd toward them. Rebecca’s pulse quickened as she desperately looked around for a way out.

Get ready, Hawk said, not taking his eyes off of them.  He did however slip the tomahawk out of his belt into his hand.  By now the men were only a few feet away from them, and Rebecca could see the hatred quite clearly in their eyes.

You’re coming with us, girl, he said.

"Esnayi an nemôten," Hawk said through clenched teeth.  She will not come with you.  "This is the last chance to walk away, kola."  The Ounam man turned and glared at Hawk, trying to take him in.

"You look like you have some English blood in you as well, shemmo," he spat.

That’s the insult, my father was Scottish.  Hawk kicked the table at the men, sending them stumbling back.  By the time they had regained their feet, Hawk was standing in front of them, with the tomahawk in one hand and a large pistol that looked more like a cut down rifle in the other.  The gun was leveled directly at the Ounam man’s head.  She turned away just as the shot echoed through the room and Rebecca felt she had been knocked off balance. She looked around to see the whole room had their eyes on Hawk as the second Ounam started to back off.  Then the whole place erupted into a panicked riot.

Rebecca had never seen chaos.  She had heard about it, and read about it, but to actually see it unfold in front of her was something else entirely.  Everyone was fighting and there was no rhyme or reason as men were punched and cut and Rebecca hated to think what else.  She looked around for the second Ounam man, but there was no sign of him.

Time to go, Hawk said, slipping the tomahawk back into his belt and grabbing Rebecca by the wrist.  She was pulled of her feet as Hawk ran for the door.  They burst out into the night with about a dozen other rioters, and Hawk turned sharply to the left.

Where are we going? Rebecca asked.

Anywhere away from here, he said. The Nile is this way!

There was all kinds of shouting now, and Rebecca could not keep track of what was being said, only that the crowd was getting even more agitated and the riot was spreading down the street.  At the head of the crowd, Rebecca saw the second Ounam man, and what looked like a few more.  Dammit! she thought, they saw me.

Can someone help us? Rebecca shouted.  She looked around and froze in horror as she saw the surviving Ounam man being joined by several others.  They were glaring in her direction.  Mr. Ramsey...

Any other idea? Hawk said, letting go of Rebecca to pull out the tomahawk again.

What about the Medjai? Rebecca asked, remembering what Uncle Edmond had told her about the Egyptian police forces.

And they’ve been so helpful so far, Hawk said, looking down the street. It sounds like...

Rebecca heard it too: hoofbeats.  Just then the crowd broke apart as a single person rode though.  With the skill of a trick rider, the figure had dismounted and