Canyon of the Sphinx

Copyright 2006 by Kathryn Le Veque
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Printed by Dragonblade Publishing in the United States of America

Text copyright 2006 by Kathryn Le Veque
Cover copyright 2006 by Kathryn Le Veque

PROLOGUE

2151
B.C.

Yucatan
Peninsula

Whoosh!

The weapon sailed over his head,
barely missing him. Had it made contact, it would have crushed his skull.  The
man ducked and rolled, lurching to his feet to avoid another blow.  But the
enemy pursuing him under the phantom moon was intent on more than simply
killing him; he wanted to annihilate him, smash his brains into the moist earth
and then rejoice in his destruction.  The smell of death was pervasive upon the
air this night, making them all mad with bloodlust.  

Panic was full-blown. On unsteady
feet, the man pitched away from his attacker, stumbling over rocks and roots
that protruded out of the dense jungle foliage, struggling with every faculty
he possessed to propel himself away from the club swinging at his head. 
Whoosh! It sang through the air again, only this time it missed him by a few
feet. Hope surged in his chest as he put distance between himself and the
assailant.  Heart pounding, head swimming, he managed to make it to the edge of
the heavy jungle where it descended into a lush, green valley below.

The man paused, his momentary
elation at having escaped his enemy quickly shattered. Below, in the great
gorge that harbored the massive complex of temples and courtyards built by his
forefathers, an even greater battle was taking place. His people were dying
before his eyes, their brains smashed to pulp by enemy war clubs.  The screams
of the dying were intermingled with shouts of triumph and another, more
sinister sound that sent bolts of terror up his spine. Filling the air were the
sounds of growling animals, feasting on the flesh of the dead and mauling the
bodies of the living.  More than the clubs, these beasts were the true horror
they feared.

It was a ghastly sight. The man
on the edge of the valley felt sickened but it did not dampen his sense of
survival.  His adversary was close on his heels again, still swinging the war
club, and the man plunged off the ledge. Sliding down the muddy embankment, he
slogged through more mud and undergrowth, fighting to reach the smooth packed
surface of the avenue that led to the great pyramid beyond.

Before him, spread through the
veil of the ghostly moonlight, he could see a macabre tale unfolding before
him; his people, people from the sea that had settled this peaceful valley long
ago, were valiantly attempting to fend off the warring natives that had
inhabited this lush land for thousands of years.  When the sea people had
arrived, nine thousand nautical miles off their intended course, the natives
had watched the new arrivals with suspicion. Suspicion soon turned to envy, and
envy to hate.

As the sea people struggled to
adapt to their new land and build a beautiful city in the alien jungle, the
natives continued to watch with growing hostility. It took a generation for the
hatred to come to fruition, but when it did, the hammer blow sounded with a
resounding smash. Something evil lingered in the primitive culture of the
natives, something horrifying that was finally unleashed against the peaceful
sea people.  The evil they had feared was now free to kill.

The man could see them in the
distance, this evil that they had feared: great war beasts cultivated by the
natives were now attacking and feeding on their enemies. The sea people had
never seen such animals before, animals bred for battle and infused with a
taste for human flesh.

Knowing of these beasts, the sea
people had tried to appease them before their violence was turned on them. 
They had made sacrifice to them in their great temple, hoping it would appease
whatever bloodlust was building in their veins. For they knew, someday, the
natives would release the beasts against them. It was only a matter of time.

As the man ran upon the scene, he
could see the carnage before him. He also knew that he was about to die. His
people were begging for his help, screaming his name. He quickly came to hate
the sound of it.

Xian!

He was no match for the beasts. Xian
ran right into the fray and into the jaws of death. The beasts focused on him,
two of them leaping upon him and piercing his neck and shoulder. As he fell, he
tried to fight, but it was futile. The beasts were ripping his flesh to shreds.
When he looked into the night sky to seek absolution from the gods, he could
see his enemy above him, club held high over his head. Xian knew what was about
to happen.  He could no longer evade it.

He was sorry that he could not
help his people.  He wondered fleetingly as the club swung downward if this was
the end of his race.  All they had ever wanted was to live in peace in this
land they had mistakenly found.  Now they were dying, so far from home. He
wondered if they would ever know peace again.

Whoosh!

For the leader of the sea people,
it was over in an instant.

CHAPTER
ONE

January,
Present Day

Valley
of the Kings, Egypt

"I know you don't want to
go, but you're back on the payroll now and you've got to go where the
university sends you. Besides, it's only for a few weeks until you help them
find whatever it is they're looking for."

The disembodied voice came from
the old speakerphone in the large modular tent that served as the
administrative center for the archaeologists of the American-sponsored dig in
the Valley of the Kings.

 Situated in the wilderness to
the northeast of the parking lot of Egypt’s greatest tourist attraction, Dr.
Kathlyn Trent and her husband, Dr. Marcus Burton, sat across from each other at
the well-worn desk that has seen more than its share of excitement and tedium.  At
this particular moment, it was sundown across the Sahara and the evening was
falling, still and hot. The call hanging in the air was an unwelcome one.   

"But I'm not done with the
World of Exploration yet." Dr. Trent sounded upset. "You know they’re
still here filming a special on Marcus’ dig and we've got another few days of
filming. It’s my first program in over a year, since Eden was born. Who did you
say you loaned me out to again?"

"The University of Indiana
at Rensselaer."  

Dr. Jobe McGrath was trying to
patiently explain why Kathlyn needed to do what she had always done. As Dean of
her sponsoring university, it was his job to oversee the university's greatest
asset in Dr. Trent, and that included coordinating her work with the World of
Exploration Channel and its magazine affiliate, World Geography.  

But his directive wasn’t sitting
well. He could hear it in her voice. With the combination of movie star
beautiful looks and sharp intellect, Kathlyn Trent was the most visible
archaeologist in the world. Southern California University had a gold-mine in
her and they knew it, hence the reason for the call.  Having taken the past
year off after the birth of her third child, sponsors and fans alike had been
impatiently awaiting her return. Barely back a week, the pressure was now on
full-bore. 

It wasn't easy sometimes, especially
with Dr. Burton involved. The man was supremely protective of his wife and
understandably so. Jobe had originally been Marcus' boss in the days before
Kathlyn and Marcus knew one another. Southern California University, or SCU, and
Marcus' affiliation, the University of California at Paso Robles, were old
rivals but the rivalry had been set aside when Dr. Trent joined Dr. Burton in
the Valley of the Kings to help in locating an elusive tomb that Dr. Burton had
spent three seasons searching for.

Dr. Trent been onsite three days
before she’d hit the mother lode, discovering the first of thirty-three steps
that led up a hillside and into a tomb of monolithic proportions.  After the
discovery, Jobe had been offered the lucrative appointment at Kathlyn’s
university. It was a decision he’d never regretted, even at times like this
when he was attempting to split the pair up.  He was attempting to send Kathlyn
out to do what she was paid to do.  She was paid to find History.

 Marcus, seated across from his
wife, spent most of his time looking at her and trying not to show his
resistance. He knew very well how talented she was, as he’d found out four
years ago when she had first shown up on his dig. Like most serious scholars
and scientists, he hadn’t taken her seriously. He thought she was more hype
than substance. Those flashy World of Exploration shows she paraded around in
just added to his skepticism. He remembered those days well, the animosity he
felt towards her, the attraction and fascination.

 But the joke had been on him. He'd
come away from the experience with a newly discovered tomb, a wife, and
eventually three kids. The past four years had been the most rewarding and
fulfilling of his life, and he thanked God every day that he hadn't driven Kathlyn
off in the early days with his surly attitude. Fact was, now he viewed her as
his property. She was his wife, after all, and in spite of their very busy
careers, they made every effort to stay together during their marriage. Kathlyn
had gone off on a few jaunts here and there, but never any longer than a week.
She had always come back to Egypt and to Marcus. Now McGrath was threatening to
send her half a world away and it was a struggle for Marcus to stay neutral
about it.

"It's just another hunt and
find, Kathlyn," Jobe assured both Kathlyn and Marcus, attempting to make
it sound more casual than it was. "They've been stuck down in the
Yucatan-Belize border now for a few seasons and are having a hard time finding
their objective. It’s some big mystery down there. They've asked for your
help."

"Who's the site
director?" Marcus asked.

"Dr. Christopher
Murphy," McGrath replied. "He's a top guy in Mesoamerican field
studies. He published a paper in the Journal of Modern Archaeology last year on
Mesoamerican Cult structure that was brilliant and introspective. Anyway, one
of his associates is apparently an old friend of Dennis'. When the Dean of
UIR's Archaeology Department called me, he made sure to mention that at every
turn."