First Chapters: The Secret of the Sacred Scarab by Fiona Ingram

THE SECRET OF THE SACRED SCARAB, by Fiona Ingram, iUniverse, 272 pp., $17.95 (Kindle $9.45).

A 5000-year-old mystery comes to life when a scruffy peddler gives Adam and Justin Sinclair an old Egyptian scarab on their very first day in Egypt. Only when the evil Dr. Faisal Khalid shows a particular interest in the cousins and their scarab, do the boys realise they are in terrible danger. Dr. Khalid wants the relic at all costs. Justin and Adam embark upon the adventure of a lifetime, taking them down the Nile and across the harsh desert in their search for the legendary tomb of the Scarab King, an ancient Egyptian ruler. They are plunged into a whirlpool of hazardous and mysterious events when Dr. Khalid kidnaps them. They survive terrifying dangers in a hostile environment (such as a giant cobra, as well as sinking sand), pursued by enemies in their quest to solve the secret of the sacred scarab. They must translate the hieroglyphic clues on the underside of the scarab, as well as rescue the missing archaeologist James Kinnaird, and their friend, the Egyptologist Ebrahim Faza, before time runs out. They must also learn more about the ancient Seven Stones of Power and the mysterious Shemsu-Hor. With just their wits, courage, and each other, the boys manage to survive … only to find that the end of one journey is the beginning of another!

Young explorers will enjoy an interactive journey through Egypt, following Justin and Adam’s exciting adventure on www.secretofthesacredscarab.com. Readers can also browse the first chapter of the book. Those who survive the journey and manage to translate the Curse of Thoth will be able to read the first chapter in Adam and Justin’s next adventure—The Search for the Stone of Excalibur—as they hunt for the Scroll of the Ancients.

First Chapter:

The Adventure Begins

Egypt! They were off at last. Excitement whirled through Adam as he crammed the last few things into his kit bag. He could hardly believe his luck that he could go. His German shepherd, Velvet, lay on the bed, her snout resting on her front paws, her eyes forlorn. Adam scratched behind her ears.

“You know I’m going away, don’t you, Velvet,” he whispered. Her ears pricked up and her shaggy tail wagged.

“I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be back soon.” Adam gazed at Velvet. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one who understands me … who knows what this trip means to me.”

Just then, Adam’s father came into the bedroom. “Ready for Egypt?” he asked.

“You bet. I can’t believe it’s happening, Dad.”

“You’re a lucky boy. Now, you’ll behave with Aunt Isabel and Gran?”

“Of course. How can you even ask that?” Adam sputtered in indignation. He was turning thirteen in a few weeks, and it made him feel so stupid when his father still treated him like a kid.

His father ruffled Adam’s hair and laughed. “Just checking.”

Adam heard his cousin, Justin, arriving. Adam’s father left to greet Justin and his parents. Halfway down the stairs, he ran into Justin, who was bounding up, calling Adam.

“In here!” Adam yelled, over Velvet’s barking.

Justin dashed into the room and leaped straight onto Adam’s bed, which was covered in books and clothes. Velvet, thinking this was some kind of new game, jumped on top of him. For a few minutes, dog and boy tussled in a mixture of yells and barks, while books and clothes flew off the bed. Then Justin pushed Velvet away. “That’s enough, Velvet. I surrender. Phew, you need to floss,” he panted.

He flopped back against the pillows, his arms behind his head, and whooped with excitement. Justin had just turned fourteen, a fact he felt made him not only older, but also wiser than his cousin. Both boys had flaming red hair and masses of freckles. They looked so alike that people often mistook them for brothers. However, there were differences. Justin’s eyes were a deep blue; Adam’s were nut brown. Adam was lean and wiry, and built small for his age; Justin was taller and stockier. They went to the same school in Durban, a seaport city on the east coast of South Africa, but Justin was in a higher grade. Both boys liked sports and played in the school cricket and rugby teams. They were also good students, preferring history and science to everything else. Their teachers had agreed to let the boys take time off from school on the condition that they wrote a daily report of what they saw in Egypt, and then, at the end of the trip, each present a talk to his history class.

“All set to go?” Justin asked.

Adam wrinkled his brow. “I think so,” he said. “But I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something.”

“Don’t worry. Aunt Isabel says if we don’t have it, then we’ll just have to get it when we reach Cairo. Wow, I’m so excited. I still can’t believe we’re going,” Justin said. “Aren’t you glad to get out of school?”

“Actually,” Adam admitted, “the best part is getting away from Wilfred and his bunch of creeps.” Wilfred Smythe was the school bully who picked on Adam whenever he could.

“Is it that bad?” Justin had no problems with the beastly Wilfred because of his bigger build and his expertise with his slingshot.

“It’s bad.” Adam sounded miserable. “He rubs my face in the sand and calls me a little freckled rat. And it’s only first term. How am I going to survive a whole year?”

Justin was indignant. “You should tell your dad.”

“I can’t. I want my dad to know I can do stuff myself. Anyway,” Adam shrugged, “let’s not talk about it. I don’t have to think about that skunk Wilfred for at least a week.”

Adam stared at his cousin. Justin was wearing two bush hats, sunglasses, and a splodge of sunscreen on his freckled nose. That’s not to mention the several layers of khaki clothes. Adam was wearing more or less the same thing, just not so much of it.

“Why are you wearing all that stuff? We haven’t even left yet.”

“I am prepared for the desert,” Justin said coolly, “and this is the latest gear. Anyway, I nearly didn’t make it.” Justin heaved an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes. “All because of my slingshot. There was a … um … very unfortunate incident with a smashed window next door. The neighbors kept complaining, even though I apologized. It was touch-and-go with Mom.”

He waved the handsome culprit in front of Adam. “I’m bringing it with me. State-of-the-art weaponry.”

“That’s so cool.” Adam was impressed.

His uncle’s voice echoed through the house. “Come on, you two. You’re going to be late. We have to leave for the airport now.”

“Coming, Dad,” Justin yelled. He leaped off the bed. “Ready?”

“In a minute,” Adam said. “I just want to say good-bye to Velvet.”

“Okay.” Justin raced down the stairs, jumping over the last few steps.

Adam sat on his rucksack. Velvet pushed her wet nose into his hand. He looked down at her mournful brown eyes and stroked her sleek head.

“Be a good dog while I’m gone adventuring, okay?” he whispered. Velvet whined and thumped her tail on the floor.

Ever since his aunt’s invitation to spend a week with her and Gran in Egypt, Adam had dreamed of nothing else—pyramids, camels, treasure, and golden desert sands. He longed with all his heart to have an adventure, to make an amazing discovery. He wanted to be somebody special, to do something so fantastic that everyone would want to be him. He looked up at the wall, at his poster of the three famous pyramids at Giza under a burnt orange sky, camels silhouetted on the distant horizon. His heart pounded.

That’s where we’ll be tomorrow, he thought. That’s where something incredible will happen, I just know it.

His father came into the room. “Nervous?”

“A little,” Adam confessed, looking pale. In fact, he was terrified. He’d never been on a plane before. He knelt down and hugged Velvet.

“Look after Velvet for me, Dad,” he said. Then he picked up his rucksack and thundered down the stairs, yelling, “Egypt, here we come!”

At the airport, their mothers fussed over last-minute details, and their fathers checked tickets, passports, and luggage for the umpteenth time.

Adam’s mother reminded him about his journal. “Remember, Adam, that’s part of the agreement with the school because you’ll miss a few days. Miss Briggs wants a daily record of your activities, including some drawings of the monuments to show you learned something from this trip.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” he said. Adam enjoyed drawing and was good at it so that part of Miss Briggs’ instruction was easy.

Justin’s mother checked his medical kit. Frowning, she inspected each bottle. “Let me see. You’ve got headache pills, runny-tummy pills, motion sickness pills, Band-Aids, ointment, and mosquito repellent.”

She looked at Justin anxiously. “Do you want to take the motion sickness tablets now, dear?”

“Mom, please don’t fuss,” Justin grumbled, embarrassed by the attention. “I’m not even on the plane yet. Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

The plan was for the boys to fly to Johannesburg, a bustling city about two hundred and fifty miles away, meet up with their aunt and grandmother, and then catch the evening plane to Cairo. After trying to dodge hugs and kisses from their parents, the boys were relieved to go into the charge of a smiling flight attendant. As they did, their mothers sniffed and wiped their eyes.

“I hate it when Mom gets all emotional,” Adam whispered to his cousin.

“Mine cried at the school concert,” Justin whispered back in disgust. “It was awful.”

They walked across the tarmac with the flight attendant, trying to appear relaxed. The plane looked enormous. It seemed very high off the ground as they climbed the stairs to the entrance. They were glad when the flight attendant finally checked their seat belts. Adam gritted his teeth and clutched the arms of his seat. His stomach churned with fear and excitement as he heard the tires rumbling and the engines screeching. Then the plane began to move. It felt as though a giant hand was pushing them back in their seats. At last, they were airborne and on their way.

“I wonder what Aunt Isabel is like now,” Justin said.

Adam was puzzled. “What do you mean? We talk on the phone to her all the time.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t actually seen her for ages. The last time was when we all got together for Gran’s birthday. That was about a year ago,” Justin said. “Another thing, Aunt Isabel usually travels alone because she’s always researching some story. I wonder why she asked us to come this time.”

“Who cares?” Adam laughed. “I’m glad she did. I’ve never been away before, like on a major expedition.”

Their unconventional Aunt Isabel was a journalist who jetted all over the world researching incredible stories. She was famous for never remembering birthdays until at least six months later, and then sending fantastic presents to make up for it. The boys were rather in awe of their green-eyed, auburn-haired, unusual aunt who—when she was home—lived in an amazing old house filled with antiques and lots of animals, namely, four cats, two dogs, and a rather fierce Mallard duck called Charlemagne.

“Do you think she’s changed?” Justin asked. His forehead crinkled in a slight frown.

“Adults don’t really change,” Adam said, showing his wisdom. “They just get older. But I think she’ll be exactly the same as always.” He pulled a face. “Strict!”

Their aunt had arranged for a taxi to collect the boys from the airport and drop them off at her home. When they arrived, Isabel’s housekeeper let the boys in. Aunt Isabel was out with their grandmother—Gran had insisted on a hairdo before the trip—so the boys were on their own.

Their aunt’s old home was the most fascinating place they’d ever seen—wooden floors, decorated ceilings, stained glass windows, and lots of antique furniture. Their careful footsteps echoed as they explored the rooms with Toby and Fergus, Isabel’s two scruffy terriers, pattering behind them.

“This is amazing.” In awe, Justin stopped in front of another door. “What’s in here?”

They walked into a study, tall bookshelves covering the walls. Several volumes lay open on the desk. Their aunt seemed to be busy with some kind of research. Given her line of work, this was not surprising. Adam saw a small brown object holding down the pages of a book. He picked it up.

“Hey, look at this,” he said. “It’s a carved scarab.”

Justin was already absorbed in an album of old photographs. He looked up to see, and then walked over to Adam and took the scarab from his hand. He stuck out his chest and posed with his hands on his hips. “Now pay attention, boys. Let us examine the Egyptian scarab,” he said pompously, just like his history teacher Mr. Sanders. “Scarabaeus. The scarab beetle was sacred to the ancient Egyptians.”

“Goodness me,” came a familiar voice from the doorway. “That’s impressive. I’m glad you’re coming along. Justin, you can be our guide.”

Both boys yelled her name—“Aunt Isabel!”—and flung themselves into her arms.

“Steady on,” their aunt laughed. “You’ll knock Gran over. She’s right behind me.”

The boys were relieved to see that their aunt hadn’t changed a bit. She was still dainty and pretty, with sparkling green eyes and masses of wavy auburn hair. She hugged them both before turning them over to their grandmother’s warm embrace. The family considered Gran quite eccentric. She had long red fingernails and lots of jewelry, and she was constantly changing her hair. Today she had a smart new style in a dark mahogany color with blonde highlights.

Justin whistled his approval. “Gran, I love the streaks.”

Adam grinned. “Yeah, Gran. You don’t look like a granny at all.”

Their grandmother patted her hairdo, looking satisfied. “Thank you, my dears,” she smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Isabel stepped back from the two boys, looking them up and down as if she were seeing them for the first time.

“My word!” she said. “You’ve both grown so much, I hardly recognize you. Now, are we all set for Egypt?”

“I’ll get the tea.” Gran bustled off in the direction of the kitchen with Toby and Fergus trotting hopefully after her.

“With cake, please, Gran,” Justin called just before Gran disappeared from view.

Pointing to the open books, Adam asked, “Are you writing another article, Aunt Isabel?”

“Perhaps,” Isabel replied. She had a mysterious expression on her face. “Maybe something on this Scottish archaeologist.” She pointed to her desk where a newspaper lay open, half-hidden beneath the books.

“What archaeologist?” the boys chorused. They loved hearing about how their aunt would come up with interesting articles. Many of her articles had won her top awards for journalism.

As soon as Justin read the bold headline—“Controversial Archaeologist Sticks to Legend Claim”—he grabbed the newspaper. “That’s the guy who says there was an ancient Egyptian ruler called the … something king—I forget the name—who has treasure still hidden away in a tomb somewhere.”

“The Scarab King,” Adam broke in. “Miss Briggs read us the article in history class.”

“Well,” Isabel said, “it’s an interesting theory, but none of the experts have found any important reference to this king. Looks as if he’s on a wild goose chase.”

Gran appeared in the doorway to summon them to tea. “What’s this about a goose, a scarab, and a king?”

Justin put on an air of importance as he explained. “Well, Gran, we just did Egypt in history class. It was so interesting because there was a big article in the local newspaper about this archaeologist James Kinnaird and his controversial theories.”

“What’s contro—controv—?” Adam asked.

“It means he says what he thinks,” Isabel replied.

Adam was confused. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“Well,” his aunt murmured, “I suppose it depends who you’re talking to.”

Gran put her hands on her hips and then raised her eyebrows. “I’m just an old lady who doesn’t know anything, but will somebody please explain.”

Isabel replied, “James Kinnaird is a Scottish archaeologist who’s always off on some fantastical quest or other. He says he’s made a sensational discovery about ancient Egypt that will rewrite history.”

She walked over to her desk and flipped open a large book, riffling through the pages until she found a map of ancient Egypt. “Come and look at this, then it’ll be clearer.”

The boys and Gran clustered around the desk.

“As we know,” Isabel continued, “Egypt was once divided into two parts: Upper and Lower Egypt—it’s plainly marked here.”

“Oh, I know,” Justin interrupted. “The two Egypts were united by some king—Menes, I think. And that’s when they started recording history and the Egyptian dynasties for the first time, right?”

His aunt said, “That’s quite right, Justin. However, Mr. Kinnaird believes that long before that—in the prehistoric time—there was a ruler called the Scarab King. Not much is known about him, but there seems to be some sort of popular legend about his treasure. It would be a major archaeological scoop for whoever found it. It would make a great story for the newspapers as well.”

Isabel smiled at her nephews’ eager faces.

“About a year or two ago, James Kinnaird made this his quest, just about demanding that the Egyptian government allow him to search for the Scarab King’s tomb. He managed to ruffle so many official Egyptian feathers that he was almost deported. It’s rather strange he’s been so insistent.”

“I thought the Egyptians were keen to dig up stuff from the past,” Gran said.

“Yes, I’m sure they are,” Isabel said, closing the book, “but recently there have been an extraordinary number of thefts of valuable artifacts from archaeological digs. Artifacts are being smuggled out of the country at an alarming rate. Mr. Kinnaird has pointed fingers at certain people in high positions in the government, almost accusing them of stealing.”

“Well,” Adam said, “this is a chance to look for treasure ourselves. We could make a discovery that’ll go down in history and make us famous.”

Justin narrowed his eyes. “What rot,” he scoffed. “If experienced guys like that archaeologist can’t find anything, how do you expect us to? Anyway, we’ll be on a tour. We can’t just go off and look for things.”

Adam glared at Justin. “I don’t know how,” he said, “but anything can happen.” He hated feeling put down like that. Justin could be quite mean at times.

Then Adam beamed hopefully at his aunt. “We could have an adventure, though, right? Just a small one.”

“Tea’s getting cold,” Gran announced. “And I’m starving. Enough talking. Let’s eat.”

They trooped into the dining room. While the boys began munching their way through a heap of pastries, their grandmother asked Isabel, “What’s happening now with this Kinnaird fellow and his dig?”

“That’s the odd thing.” Isabel poured tea into cups that were sitting on the table. “He was on a dig somewhere—all hush-hush, of course, because he didn’t want anybody to know where. He used to send weekly reports to his London office, but recently there’s just been silence. No one has heard from his base camp in over a month.”

“Maybe he’s moved onto another dig,” Adam suggested, licking a large blob of custard from his pastry. A wet nose nudged his leg. Then a wet nose nudged his other leg. He looked down to see Toby and Fergus gazing at his pastry. Adam dropped a few crumbs under the table.

“No, he seems to have just … vanished,” his aunt said, handing around the full teacups.

“He could have been sick,” Justin mumbled, his mouth full. He swallowed, and then coughed. Bits of cake flew out of his mouth. He hastily dusted the crumbs off the table. “Oops, sorry,” he said. “I mean, isn’t anyone going to look for him?”

“How?” Isabel raised her eyebrows. “The desert is so huge it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Mr. Kinnaird was rather silly not to let the authorities know where he was going. Secrecy is one thing, but stupidity is another.”

“There’s definitely something fishy going on,” Gran decided. “I think there’s more to this than meets the eye. He sounds like an experienced archaeologist to me. Foul play, that’s what I say.”

“Mother,” Isabel sighed. “You’ve been reading too many detective novels again.”

“Truth, as everyone knows,” Gran huffed, “is stranger than fiction. How do you think writers dream up their plots? They just write about what people really do.”

Adam’s eyes gleamed. A lost archaeologist and gang of smugglers. Could this be an adventure already?

His aunt caught the look on Adam’s face. “Just forget it,” she warned. “I know what you’re thinking. We’re not looking for trouble, lost archaeologists, or hidden treasure. We’re going on a nice safe tour, with nice safe people, and that’s all. Adventures only happen in books.”

We’ll see, Adam thought. Anything can happen in Egypt.

— Excerpt from The Secret of the Sacred Scarab by Fiona Ingram.  All Rights Reserved.