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Five white camels crested the bright Sahara horizon, their blue robed riders swaying in time with their rapid gait. A score of men carrying ox skinned shields, metal spears and packs of various sizes followed, keeping pace as well as they could. The desert sun spilled its heat upon them, adding its burden on their weary backs. The riders did not care. The men were eklan, slaves, every one of them worth far less that the camels the warriors rode.
El Tellak, leader of the expedition, raised his hand and the riders slowed their pace. He pointed at a towering dune before them.
“This is it!” he shouted.
The riders urged their camels to increase their speed, expanding the gap between them and their servants. By the time the beleaguered slaves reached the dune base the riders had dismounted. They paced before the sand mound when the first servant reached them. He walked to them, his tall frame and broad shoulders challenging the physical presence of his masters. Tellak struck the man across the face with an open hand.
“You’re worthless, the lot of you!”
He marched away to his companions. The man he struck followed him with angry eyes.
“What are you waiting for?” he shouted. “Start digging!”
The servant dropped his weapons then took a leather bag from his back. He opened the bag then extracted a folded spade. With jerking movements he assembled the spade then marched to the dune. As he stabbed the sand his cohorts joined them. He watched El Tellak take a device from his saddle, a square box with a brass crank protruding from its side and a brass cone extending from the top. Tellak turned the crank rapidly for a minute the pressed his ear against the cone. After a few moments a voice crackled inside. He lifted his head then spoke into the cone.
“Yes, yes, we are here,” Tellak answered in German. “The entrance should be clear soon. We will have the book before sunset.”
He placed his ear against the cone again then nodded to the response. He looked at the other riders then shared thumbs up.
The punished servant eyebrows lifted when his shovel hit something hard. He dug faster; in moments a golden door handle appeared before him.
“We found it!” his fellow servants shouted.
The servant said nothing. He continued digging until the door was completely clear. As the others ran to their masters hoping to be the first to share the news, the man turned the handle, opened the door then stepped inside. The innards of the buried temple were surprisingly cool. It was a circular room; its walls decorated with images that were not quite hieroglyphics yet not exactly paintings. The man recognized them; these were the symbols of a civilization which rose and fell long before the Great Pyramids cast their magnificent shadows across the Nile Valley. His eyes quickly fell on the prize; large leather bound book resting on a marble pedestal incrusted with jewels. He hurried to the pedestal.
“What are you doing?”
The servant turned to see Tellak striding toward him, a whip in his hands.
“Worthless infidel! You’re trying to steal from us!”
Tellak cracked the whip at the man. The servant extended his arm then watched as the leather wrapped around his arm. In a sudden motion he jerked his arm toward his body as he extracted a dagger from his robes. Tellak, caught off guard, stumbled toward him then into the waiting blade. The servant wrapped his arm around Tellak, pulling him closer as he twisted the dagger. His former master slumped against him.
The servant dropped Tellak to the sand. He took a leather bag from under his robes then stuffed the book inside it. Securing it on his back, he made his way toward the temple entrance. The other slaves charged inside to confront him.
“This does not concern you,” he said as he gestured with the bloody knife. “Stand aside or die.”
His former cohorts quickly dispersed, hiding behind whatever they could inside the temple. When the man reached the entrance the other Ihaggaren waited on their camels, their takoubas drawn.
The riders shouted before they kicked their camels forward. The man continued to run; when they were yards away he snatched two throwing knives from beneath his robes. The blades spun from his hands, one finding the face of a camel rider, the other the neck of a camel. The man fell from his saddle, dead before he met the sand. The second rider cried out as his camel keeled over. He attempted to roll free but the huge beast fell upon him, crushing him. The third man continued to attack, swinging his takouba over his head. The spirited servant continued running toward him, undeterred by the man and beast bearing down on him. At the last second he jumped to the left of them, a third throwing knife streaking from his hand then sinking into the head of the last Ihaggaren. The man gripped the knife as he tumbled from his camel into the hot sand.
A strange sound from above signaled to the man that his dilemma was not over. He glanced up; a Prussian airship swooped down on him like a raptor, its shadow rolling over the undulating sand, its droning engine usurped by the chatter of Gatling guns. Bullets peppered the sand behind him as the man sprinted for the cover of a nearby dune. He dove as the bullets ripped the sand where he once stood. Reaching into his robes once again, he extracted two more throwing knives with thick handles. He hit the handles together and sparks flew, setting off a fuse in each knife. The man whispered a short prayer then stood, throwing the knives with each hand then ducking as the automatic guns fired. Searing pain flashed through his left shoulder and he grabbed it instinctively as his knives spun toward the airship. The blades bit into the airship’s undercarriage, the fuses still burning. As the dirigible cruised over the warrior the knives exploded, setting off the flammable innards of the airship. The warrior ran for his life again, this time dodging falling bodies and flaming debris.
Once he cleared the burning deluge he checked his back pack then staggered to the nearest camel. He mounted the beast, ignoring his bleeding shoulder. The wound was painful but superficial; there would be time to bandage it later. For now he needed to put distance between him and the hidden temple. The book was secure; his task complete. With a jerk of the reins he turned the camel and set off for Timbuktu.