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Cleopatra's tomb has been discovered and the Germans are determined to rob it. It's 1937 and the Germans want to use the treasure to finance their global operations. But half-living mummies are trapped inside the tomb. Twelve-year-old Alex O'Connell knows what that means: trouble. If Alex doesn't stop the Germans, they'll ransack the temple -- and Cleopatra will never reach the spirit world. Will Alex get to the tomb in time?
- Sales Rank: #3681010 in Books
- Brand: Brand: Skylark
- Published on: 2001-06-12
- Released on: 2001-06-12
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: .39" h x 5.18" w x 7.68" l,
- Binding: Paperback
- 136 pages
- Used Book in Good Condition
From the Inside Flap
Cleopatra's tomb has been discovered and the Germans are determined to rob it. It's 1937 and the Germans want to use the treasure to finance their global operations. But half-living mummies are trapped inside the tomb. Twelve-year-old Alex O'Connell knows what that means: trouble. If Alex doesn't stop the Germans, they'll ransack the temple -- and Cleopatra will never reach the spirit world. Will Alex get to the tomb in time?
About the Author
Dave Wolverton is the bestselling author of the Star Wars: Jedi Apprentice series for middle-grade readers.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
A Stranger in the Dark
London—1937
Thunder boomed outside twelve-year-old Alex O'Connell's home, waking him from his sleep. As it faded in the distance, he heard a steady thumping from downstairs.
Someone was pounding on the front door.
For half a moment he waited for his parents to answer, then remembered that they were gone for the evening and wouldn't be back until late.
He ran to the window and looked down. On the cobblestone lane in front of the house was a horse-drawn hearse. Two brawny men were trying to wrestle a casket out of the back.
"What the devil?" Alex mouthed. Was this some kind of joke? It was Allhallows Eve, after all, and it seemed like just the kind of prank some of his mum's students at Bembridge might pull. She had recently accepted a post at the college teaching Egyptology and had moved the family back to London, much to Alex's disappointment. He missed the warmth of Egypt, a place where the skies were more likely to drench you in warm sunlight than cold showers.
From the front door, the pounding came more fiercely. A deep-voiced man shouted, "Halloo. Anyone there? I must speak with Mr. and Mrs. O'Connell. It's the utmost emergency!"
Alex flipped a light switch but found that the power was out. He threw a bathrobe over his pajamas, rushed downstairs, and flung open the door.
A heavyset man was about to bat the door again with his mahogany walking stick. Alex cringed as it stopped inches from his face.
"So sorry, young fellow," the man said. He wore gold-rimmed spectacles that were fogged and wet, along with a gray bowler hat and cloak. "Are your parents home?"
"No," Alex said. "They went to see a play downtown."
"Oh, bother," the man sighed. "I need to get an urgent message to them."
"I can give it to them," Alex offered.
"No, no, no," the man muttered. "This is a matter of great importance . . . to all of England, I daresay. I shan't entrust it to some woolly-headed boy. Such matters are far beyond the understanding of mere children."
Alex glowered. "Some children understand things better than most adults."
"Hah, well said!" the man replied. "Well said indeed. With retorts like that, you could go into politics." He glanced back at the hearse. The pallbearers had just pulled the casket out and were now trying to lower it to the ground. In the sitting room, the grandfather clock began to chime.
Lightning blasted a tree on the hill, and for a moment the man's face was limned in light. Alex recognized it immediately.
"Winston Churchill, from Parliament?" Alex blurted out in surprise. "Please come in. My parents would have my head if they knew I kept you waiting outside. I don't think they'll be much longer."
Churchill looked up at the pouring rain, "I don't mind if I do." He shouted to the pallbearers, "Careful with that casket."
The pallbearers grunted and panted.
Alex led Churchill to the sitting room. "I'm sorry about the lights," Alex said. "The power must be out." The house was three hundred years old, and there were oil lamps in brackets attached to the wall. The lamps served mostly as ornaments, but now Alex took one down to light it and stared at Churchill in awe.
"I recognized your face from the Sunday News," Alex told him. "I listen to your speeches on the radio all the time."
"How nice," Churchill said, arching his brow as if in disbelief. "Although some don't call them speeches so much as tirades."
"Oh, but I agree entirely with your views," Alex said. "My parents and I talk about them all the time. We've been especially troubled by Hitler's recent treaty with Mussolini, where they divided the world into 'spheres of influence.' It's pretty cheeky of the Germans and Italians to split up the world before they've even conquered it, don't you think?"
Churchill laughed. "Now there's a bright lad! Perhaps I can trust you to deliver a message. But if I do, you must promise to give it to your parents as soon as they come home. You can't fall asleep."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Churchill."
"I've heard about your parents' exploits in Egypt," Churchill said. "All that business about fighting mummies. Your mum is a daring Egyptologist, and your father is quite an adventurer. They're just the kind of people I need."
Alex smiled with pride. Four years ago, his parents had saved him—and the world—from two cursed creatures, Imhotep and the Scorpion King. It had been his parents' second encounter with Imhotep, and they'd barely made it home alive.
"What's happened now?" Alex asked.
"Early this morning we got word from the government of Egypt," Churchill replied. "It seems that Mussolini has sent an expedition to search for tombs in ancient Egypt. Ever since King Tutankhamen's tomb was discovered, Mussolini's been convinced that the ancient pharaohs had a nearly inexhaustible supply of gold—gold that he could use to buy tanks."
"My mum says Tutankhamen's tomb was one of the greatest discoveries in archaeological history," Alex replied, "but the tombs have more than just gold in them. They are guarded by powerful spells."
Thunder shook the house, rattling the windows and lamps. Churchill clutched his hat tightly as Alex continued.
"When we lived in Egypt, I was training to be a Medjai, like my friend Ardeth Bay. He's their leader. The Medjai protect the tombs from foolish intruders and try to keep ancient forces locked inside where they belong." Alex paused and stepped closer to Churchill. "But some creatures are too powerful to control. Before I left Egypt, the Scorpion King rose from the dead again. If it wasn't for the Medjai, the Scorpion King and his warriors would have killed my friend and me!"
"Wow," Churchill said with a shudder. "Until a few hours ago, I'd always believed that all this talk about Egyptian curses was a bunch of nonsensical hocus-pocus. Now an object has come into my possession . . ." He nodded toward the door just as the pallbearers wrestled the wet coffin inside.
One of the men slipped, and the casket spilled open. A gruesome mummy rolled onto the floor!
2
The Mummy's Heart
Blimey," one pallbearer said as he stared at the mummy in its gray bandages. Half of its face had rotted away. "I wouldn't kiss that thing on a dare."
The roots of the mummy's yellow teeth were exposed where the lips and cheek had decayed. Alex glanced at it and shrugged. He had seen worse.
"This mummy was intercepted at the docks in Cairo," Churchill said. "It was headed for Italy. It appears that a team of treasure hunters has made a find, possibly a very valuable one. I was hoping that your mother might be able to identify the location of the site from the casket."
"Mind if I take a look?" Alex asked. "My mum's been teaching me about mummies since before I could read." He carried the oil lamp to the coffin. It was covered with soot and dust. "This has been in a fire," he told them. Gently he began to brush off the soot. He could see some faded paint beneath it.
"There's a picture on here," Alex said. "Rich Greeks and Romans always had their portraits painted on their caskets. That means this is a recent burial as far as mummies go, probably some time after the Romans took over Egypt."
He rubbed away the dust to reveal the face of a young servant girl, perhaps fourteen—only two years older than Alex. She had dark, flowing hair and a small, sad smile. Her eyes were large and haunting, as if she were waiting for something that would never come.
"She died so young," Alex said. A wave of pity swept through him. The girl had probably let herself be sacrificed when her pharaoh died, so that she could escort her lord to heaven.
The pallbearer took off his hat and wiped sweat from his brow. "She was a real looker once—but she's seen better days."
Alex turned his attention to the mummy on the floor. "My mum told me it used to take up to three months for the priests of Anubis to mummify people in their temple. Hundreds of dead people were often stored in there at once. The priests kept each person tagged so there were no mix-ups."
Alex felt around the bandages at the mummy's throat. "Her tag must be in here somewhere."
"Unless she's someone you've heard of before, what help will her name give us?" Churchill asked.
"The name tag will probably tell us her occupation, the year of her death, and the name of the pharaoh she served."
He felt under the bandages by the girl's throat and pulled out her rotted tag. The faded brown letters were Coptic characters, a shorthand version of Egyptian hieroglyphics. Alex wasn't very good at reading Coptic. His mouth went dry with anticipation. Outside, thunder roared in the distance.
"Her name was Irani," Alex said slowly as he translated the characters into sounds. "She was a court magician—in the palace of Queen Cleopatra!"
"Cleopatra, now that's a familiar name," Churchill said. "As I recall, she was one of the wealthiest queens of Egypt, wasn't she?"
Alex's heart was hammering. "Not one of," he said. "Of all the pharaohs, she was the richest!"
"How rich?" Churchill asked tensely.
"Compared to her, King Tut was a pauper," Alex replied. "She had the largest fleet in the world and armies to match. For years people have been scouring Egypt, looking for signs of her. This will be the find of the...
Most helpful customer reviews
6 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
The thrilling second book in the Mummy Chronicles series.
By Rebecca Herman
The year is 1937, and twelve-year-old Alex O'Connell and his parents have returned to London now that his mother has accepted a teaching position at Bembridge. He longs for sunny Egypt, and for the friends he left behind there - although not for the life-threatening adventures he had fighting mummies and other evil creatures. When his parents are asked to lead an expedition to Egypt in order to stop Italian and German soldiers from ransacking Cleopatra's newly discovered tomb, Alex jumps at the chance to come along - but is disappointed when he is ordered to stay at the British Embassy in Cairo while his parents get to travel to the tomb and have all the adventures. Alex is reunited with his friends - Matt, the son of the British ambassador, and Rachel, a Jewish girl who fled Nazi Germany with her father. The three kids discover information that they must get to their parents - but will three kids be able to face the burning desert, Italian soldiers, their old enemy Ungricht, and a score of mummies? I reccomend this book to fans of the two Mummy movies, and to those readers who enjoyed the first Mummy Chronicles book.
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