Time Hunters: Egyptian Curse
Chris Blake

Travel through time with Tom on more
adventures!

Gladiator Clash

Knight Quest

Viking Raiders

Greek Warriors

Pirate Mutiny

Egyptian Curse

Cowboy Showdown

Samurai Assassin

Outback Outlaw

Stone Age Rampage

Mohican Brave

Aztec Attack

For games, competitions and more visit:

www.time-hunters.com

With special thanks to

Marnie Stanton-Riches

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1: Bowled Over

Chapter 2: Isis Goes Home

Chapter 3: The Boy King

Chapter 4: Friends in High Places

Chapter 5: Party Pooped

Chapter 6: King of the Jungle

Chapter 7: A Nile Cruise

Chapter 8: Surprise Attack

Chapter 9: The Key of Life

Chapter 10: Fond Farewell

Who Were The Mightiest Egyptians?

Weapons

Ancient Egyptian Timeline

Time Hunters Timeline

Fantastic Facts

The Hunt Continues …

Discover a New Thrilling Time Hunters Adventure!

Copyright

About the Publisher

Five thousand years ago

Princess Isis and her pet cat, Cleo, stood outside the towering carved gates to the Afterlife. It had been rotten luck to fall off a pyramid and die at only ten years of age, but Isis wasn’t worried – the Afterlife was meant to be great. People were dying to go there, after all! Her mummy’s wrappings were so uncomfortable she couldn’t wait a second longer to get in, get her body back and wear normal clothes again.

“Oi, Aaanuuubis, Anubidooby!” Isis shouted impatiently. “When you’re ready, you old dog!”

Cleo started to claw Isis’s shoulder. Then she yowled, jumping from Isis’s arms and cowering behind her legs.

“Calm down, fluffpot,” Isis said, bending to stroke her pet. “He can’t exactly woof me to death!” The princess laughed, but froze when she stood up. Now she understood what Cleo had been trying to tell her.

Looming up in front of her was the enormous jackal-headed god of the Underworld himself, Anubis. He was so tall that Isis’s neck hurt to look up at him. He glared down his long snout at her with angry red eyes. There was nothing pet-like about him. Isis gulped.

“‘WHEN YOU’RE READY, YOU OLD DOG?’” Anubis growled. “‘ANUBIDOOBY?’”

Isis gave the god of the Underworld a winning smile and held out five shining amulets. She had been buried with them so she could give them to Anubis to gain entry to the Afterlife. There was a sixth amulet too – a gorgeous green one. But Isis had hidden it under her arm. Green was her favourite colour, and surely Anubis didn’t need all six.

Except the god didn’t seem to agree. His fur bristled in rage. “FIVE? Where is the sixth?” he demanded.

Isis shook her head. “I was only given five,” she said innocently.

To her horror, Anubis grabbed the green amulet from its hiding place. “You little LIAR!” he bellowed.

Thunder started to rumble. The ground shook. Anubis snatched all six amulets and tossed them into the air. With a loud crack and a flash of lightning, they vanished.

“You hid them from me!” he boomed. “Now I have hidden them from you – in the most dangerous places throughout time.”

Isis’s bandaged shoulders drooped in despair. “So I c-c-can’t come into the Afterlife then?”

“Not until you have found each and every one. But first, you will have to get out of this …” Anubis clicked his fingers. A life-sized pottery statue of the goddess Isis, whom Isis was named after, appeared before him.

Isis felt herself being sucked into the statue, along with Cleo. “What are you doing to me?” she yelled.

“You can only escape if somebody breaks the statue,” Anubis said. “So you’ll have plenty of time to think about whether trying to trick the trickster god himself was a good idea!”

The walls of the statue closed around Isis, trapping her and Cleo inside. The sound of Anubis’s evil laughter would be the last sound they would hear for a long, long time …

“Wakey-wakey, Tom!” called Mum from downstairs. “You don’t want to sleep through your party!”

The smell of frying bacon wafted under Tom’s bedroom door and interrupted his dream about playing football with a gang of pirates on a Caribbean beach.

He opened his eyes and tried to work out why he felt so excited.

“Oh, yeah!” he said, suddenly remembering.

Tom sprang out of bed and shook the bandaged figure sleeping on the floor.

“Wake up, Isis! It’s my birthday!” he said.

“Ow!” Isis cried. With her arms folded over her chest, mummified Princess Isis Amun-Ra sat up stiffly. “That’s not a nice way to be woken up!” she said. There was a creak as she stretched her arms. A cloud of dust swirled round her.

“Sorry! I’m just excited,” Tom said, as he helped Isis to her feet.

“OK, but a girl needs her beauty sleep, you know,” Isis snapped.

Tom chuckled. “You’re an Ancient Egyptian mummy. Even the longest sleep won’t bring you back to life!”

He went over to his dressing gown and slippers, which lay in a heap on the floor. Cleopatra, Isis’s mummified pet cat, was snoozing on top of them.

“Up you get, Cleo!” Tom said. Then, turning to Isis, Tom explained, “Mum always cooks me a special birthday breakfast. I’ll have sausage, bacon, egg, mushrooms and beans waiting for me downstairs.”

“Birthday this! Birthday that! What’s so great about a birthday?” Isis muttered, as she scooped Cleo into her arms.

“Er, it’s only the best day of the year, silly!” Tom cried. Then he looked at his friend and frowned. “Hang on – did you celebrate birthdays in Ancient Egypt?” he asked. “You know – get presents, eat cake, have a party …”

Isis shook her head stiffly. “When I was alive, we used to have a party to celebrate the goddess Isis. And because I’m named after her, everybody made a fuss of me. Now that was fun!”

Tom pulled on his dressing gown and did a little dance. “I was born eleven years ago today! How cool is that?”

“Not very. I was born five thousand years ago,” Isis said smugly.

Ignoring her, Tom thought about the things he had put on his birthday list.

“Hey, I wonder if I’ll get Timeline of Fire? The computer game where you get to fight historical battles.”

“What a silly thing to ask for!” Isis said, sitting on Tom’s bed. “You should have asked for jewels or a gold statue of yourself.”

Tom slid his feet inside his slippers. “The only jewel I want,” he said, “is the sixth amulet, so I don’t have to share a bedroom with you any more, Your Royal Crustiness.”

Isis stood up and shuffled over to Tom’s desk, where his books were lined up. She pushed over a large history encyclopedia at one end and the rest of the books toppled over like dominos.

“Until you met me, Professor Smartypants, all you had for excitement were these dusty books,” she said. “I’ve shown you what it’s like to have some real adventures! You should be kissing my feet.”

Tom looked down at Isis’s flaky yellow toes. “Ugh. No thanks.”

“You broke that statue in your dad’s museum,” she continued. “Me and Cleo had been quite happy there until you came along.”

Tom groaned. “No, you weren’t! And you’re the one who got into trouble with Anubis in the first place. You got yourself banished from the Afterlife until you can find all six amulets. So it’s your fault we’ve both had to risk life and limb—”

“I haven’t risked my life. I’m already dead.Or hadn’t you noticed?” Isis pointed at her bandaged chest. “But the fact you’re still alive, despite facing up to Roman gladiators, medieval knights, raiding Vikings, Greek warriors and crazy pirates, is completely down to me!”

Cleo purred and stretched her legs stiffly.

“See!” Isis said. “Even Cleo agrees, don’t you, my fluffy love?”

Tom started putting his books back on the desk. He knew by now there was no point in arguing with Isis.

“Happy birthday, darling!” Mum said, sliding Tom’s breakfast on to the kitchen table and giving him a kiss.

Dad pushed his glasses up his nose. “I can’t believe you’re eleven! Seems like only yesterday you were in nappies.”

Isis giggled and Tom shot her a warning look.

Dad clapped Tom on the arm. “Ready for your presents?”

“You bet,” Tom said, shovelling a forkful of beans into his mouth and then tearing at the wrapping paper. He pulled out a chunky red-and-green jumper covered in … What is it covered in? Tom thought, staring at the yellow markings on the chest.

“Are those supposed to be hieroglyphics?” Isis asked. She was sitting on the kitchen worktop, but Tom’s mum and dad couldn’t see or hear her.

“One arm’s shorter than the other,” Tom said.

“The jumper’s from Nan,” Mum explained, and then handed Tom another present. “From me,” she said, smiling.

Tom felt the package. It was square and hard. “Computer game?” he guessed correctly, unwrapping Timeline of Fire. “Yesssss!”

Then Dad plonked something large and heavy on the kitchen table. He cleared his throat. “And this is from me.”

Tom unwrapped the gift. “The Young Historian books box set!” Tom yelled. “Wicked! Look, it’s got an Aztec Empire special edition too.” He grinned at his parents. “Thanks, Mum and Dad, you’re the best!”

As Tom gobbled up his fried egg, Isis’s voice floated over the room.

“A computer game, some books and a knitted thing? What boring presents!”

Tom noticed that Isis’s shoulders were slumped. Perhaps she was feeling left out, especially if she’d never celebrated a birthday before. He quickly ate the rest of his breakfast. “Let’s go upstairs and try out my new game,” he whispered.

“Deal!” Isis said, smiling.

As they ran upstairs, Mum shouted out, “Don’t forget we’re leaving for the bowling alley at ten thirty!”

“Those shoes are ugly,” Isis said, pointing to the red, white and blue bowling shoes that Tom and his friends were putting on.

“Nobody’s asking you to wear them,” Tom said.

Mum and Dad were programming everybody’s names into the machine that kept score.

In the next lane, a tall man stood up to take his go. Tom watched as the ball thundered down the lane. There was a loud crash as it sent every single pin flying. The man jumped up and down and punched the air.

Isis gasped. “That’s not very sporting, is it?”

Tom started to laugh. “He got a strike,” he explained. “He’s happy because he knocked down all the pins. That’s the point of the game, you see? The more you knock down—”

“I bet I can do that!” Isis said.

Tom nervously glanced over at his friends. “No, Isis. Just watch. Please don’t try to join in—”

But Isis had already picked up a bowling ball and flung it down the lane.

“Woo-hoo!” she cried, as Cleo scampered after the ball.

Tom’s friends stared as, seemingly on its own, the ball rolled down the lane and knocked over all ten pins.

“That ball just bowled a strike by itself!” Veejay said, blinking in disbelief.

Tom gulped. “Someone must have dropped it.” To distract his friends he said, “Hey! Who wants some lemonade?”

Suddenly, Tom’s voice was drowned out by a loud, rumbling noise. At the end of the lane, the giant, jackal-headed god of the Underworld, Anubis, burst out, splintering the wood and sending the pins flying.

“Just when I was getting the hang of it!” Isis grumbled.

Anubis’s eyes glowed red. He folded his arms and bared his sharp teeth at Tom and Isis. “Are you ready to face your toughest challenge yet?” he boomed.

Tom looked at his school friends who were all sipping their lemonade. They had no idea the Ancient Egyptian god was there.

“Not really,” Tom said. “I’m in the middle of my birthday party.”

“SILENCE!” bellowed Anubis. “Your last challenge will be a real test of bravery. Fail, and Isis will never get into the Afterlife!”

Suddenly, a wind blew up round Tom, Isis and Cleo, pulling them out of the bowling alley and into the tunnels of time.

“Wheeeee!” Tom cried.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! The three travellers shot out of the time tunnels into hot, dry air and blinding sunlight. They landed on the dusty ground. Tom looked round and saw an enormous river, twisting like a dark green snake into the distance. Closer by, there was a grid of buildings with golden desert beyond.

Tom gazed up at scaffolding made from tree trunks. Men were scurrying up and down it, carrying stones. They seemed to be building some sort of temple.

“You know where we are, don’t you?” Isis said excitedly, gripping Tom’s arm. No longer a mummy, she had her body back again. Her kohl-lined eyes shone with glee.

“Not really,” Tom said, looking down at their white linen tunics.

Cleo purred loudly then stretched out her legs and licked her stripy fur. Isis scooped the cat into her arms.

“We’re home, Fluffpot!” she said. “I’d know that river anywhere. It’s the Nile!”

“Ancient Egypt?” Tom said, staring at the builders. They had the same dark skin as Isis. Some were bald, but others wore ponytails.

“Cool! Where’s your palace then?”

Isis shielded her eyes from the sun and peered round. “Good question. To be honest, I don’t recognise any of these buildings. There’s not a pyramid in sight.”

Tom called over to a worker, who was lifting a basket full of mud on to his broad shoulders. “Excuse me,” he said. “What city are we in?”

The worker frowned at him.

Tom wondered if the man hadn’t understood him. So far, thanks to Anubis’s magic, he and Isis had been able to speak to people in every time and place they had visited. Had the magic worn off?

“The capital, of course!” the man finally said, to Tom’s relief.

“Memphis?” Isis asked, looking hopeful.

As he started to climb the scaffold, the man laughed. “No, Amarna, silly girl.” He looked down at Isis and shook his head. “Do you think we’re still in the Old Kingdom, or something?”

Tom expected Isis to tell the worker off for being so rude to a princess, but instead she just looked puzzled.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I was sure me and Fluffpot had come home.”

“Let’s go and look over there,” Tom said, pointing to a high stone wall that had already been finished. Two men were chiselling away, covering the wall in hieroglyphics.

“Those men are scribes,” Isis said. “This must be a temple of some sort.”

When they reached the wall, Isis pointed excitedly at a figure carved into the stone.

“Look!” she said. “Here’s a picture of my father.” She smiled as she traced the carved surface with her fingertips. “Everyone used to tell me I looked just like him.”

Tom looked at the carving, but couldn’t see much of a resemblance.

“We are in Egypt,” Isis said, studying the wall. “But judging from how old this carving looks, it seems we’ve turned up long after I was alive.”

As she spoke, there was the sound of splitting rock above them. Tom looked up and saw three men pushing the head off the biggest statue he had ever seen. It slowly rolled forward and then …

CRASH!

The whole statue came tumbling down. Cleo darted out of its way. Tom grabbed Isis, and they stumbled backwards as bits of stone smashed all round them.

“Whoa!” Tom cried. “That thing nearly killed us!”

“This is too dangerous, even for someone as brave as me!” said Isis. “Let’s find my amulet and get out of here.”

“The ring,” Tom said. “Ask your ring for help.”

Isis looked down at her magical scarab ring, which had once belonged to the goddess Isis herself.

“Oh, goddess Isis,” she began. “Please help us one last time. Tell us where we can find the final amulet!”

Silvery words drifted up out of the ring and hung in the air in the shape of a riddle.

Tom cleared his throat and read out loud:

“From the north, ill tides do flow,

As neighbours seek to breach the bank.

Into battle you must go,

If you want to find what’s in the ankh.

This final quest has brought you home,

But the kingdom’s threat is very real.

Seek the boy king! Crush his foe,

Beneath the chariot’s mighty wheel.”

“What does that mean?” Tom said. “For a start, what’s an ankh?”

“It’s an Ancient Egyptian symbol that means the key to life,” Isis said, watching the silvery words disappear.

Tom was wondering whether the words ‘ill tides do flow’ and ‘breach the bank’ had anything to do with the River Nile, when a gruff voice shouted, “You two! Get over here and stop slacking!”

Swinging round, Tom spotted a short man with a bald head and an enormous pot belly that hung over his loincloth. In his hand was a large whip.

“Somebody’s been eating more than his fair share of cake,” Isis giggled.

With the pot-bellied foreman cracking his whip at their heels, Tom and Isis were forced to join a group of workers pulling a sledge across rolling logs. The sledge held a giant lump of stone.

Tom grabbed the rope.

“HEAVE!” the foreman yelled. His whip snapped on a worker’s back. “HEAVE!”

The sledge hardly moved an inch, even with everyone pulling. Tom could feel the scratchy rope biting into his hands. To make matters worse, the sun blazed down on his head.

“This is not a job for a princess!” Isis gasped.

Crack! went the whip. “Get on with it, boy!” the foreman barked at her.

Isis’s eyebrows bunched together. “Boy? I’m not a boy – I’m a princess. I’m going to teach that bully a lesson!” she hissed, throwing the rope to the ground.

“No, Isis! Don’t—”

Tom reached out to stop her, and lost his grip on the rope.

“No!” he cried.

Too late! Tom stumbled and several huge, muscly builders piled on top of him and Isis, as the entire line gave way. From underneath the mountain of workers, Tom spied a very angry-looking foreman.

“You! Get over here!” he snarled at Tom, cracking his whip. “I’m going to give you the thrashing of your life!”

Snap! The foreman’s whip whizzed through the air and cracked on the sand, right by Tom’s feet.

“I don’t have time for weaklings!” the foreman shouted, grinning nastily.

Tom braced himself for the whip’s sting. But suddenly a young man, dressed in a pleated loincloth, ran up to the foreman. He whispered urgently in his ear.

The foreman frowned at Tom and Isis. “It’s your lucky day – I don’t have time to give you a beating. Get over to the old temple wall and help chisel off the picture of Aten!” He pointed at a stone building in the distance.

Tom, Isis and Cleo ran off before he could change his mind.

The temple was full of workers hacking away at a picture of a large disc carved into a lump of pink granite.

“Yikes. That was close,” Tom said. “Who’s this Aten?”

Isis shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said.

One of the workers, who’d stopped chiselling to wipe his sweaty brow, looked at Isis and chuckled. He pointed to the disc.

“This is Aten, silly!” he said. “The Sun God, of course.”

“Nonsense!” Isis scoffed. “Everyone knows the Sun God and creator of all things is Ra! Amun-Ra!”

“What? Where have you two been?” the man asked. “The whole reason we’re getting rid of this carving is because the old pharaoh made everyone worship just one god, Aten. His son, the new pharaoh, has gone back to worshipping the old gods – so there’s a lot of work for us changing all the temples back.”

“Quite right,” Isis said, frowning at the giant carved disc. “Whoever heard of having just one god? How ridiculous!”

Seeing a new foreman glaring at them, Tom and Isis each picked up a chisel and hammer and began chipping away at the rock. Even Cleo scratched at the carving with her claws.

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