I crawled down the rope ladder. As the doctor treated Johnathan’s nose, he flashed a look filled with pure disdain in my direction. The temptation to stick out my tongue like a five-year-old boy was very strong, but I had to remind myself that I was the leader of an archaeological expedition. I could not act like a child.
I struck a match and lit a candle to test the air. Confirming my suspicions that the air did not contaminate anything hazardous, I called for proper lighting. The fat Arab gave me as I requested.
I immediately went to the mural I had spotted earlier. Studying the relaxed pose of the human figures and the hint of realism in the artwork’s objects, I was certain that there was a connection to Akhenaten. After deciphering a few lines of hieroglyphics, I was even more determined to explore every inch of what Johnathan had stumbled into.
Abandoning the mural, I began to scan the other walls. All were decorated with murals of similar technique. A tinge of excitement trickled into my soul.
As Johnathan whimpered in the middle of what was a room, not a ditch as I said earlier for the purpose of technicalities, I noticed a pitch black corner. Shining my light on that region of the room, I found the doorway to a passage.
Making my way to the passageway, I thanked my lucky stars. I was certain that I had found Akhenaten’s tomb. A superstitious part of me held my tongue in check. Boasting could lead to a jinx.