After a couple of questions to test him, Will believed him. The young Kurshanian boy was clever enough to grasp the languages to a certain degree.
'He speaks six languages. I speak six too... and I studied for years, since childhood!'
Will felt a mixture of admiration and envy towards Arsh. But as he thought about it further, these emotions turned into pity.
'I know something he doesn't know. He is right here and doesn't know what all these symbols mean. There's a whole new world in front of him but he can't see it... The symbols aren't even the point. In better circumstances, he would have made an excellent researcher.'
Then he opened the notebook in his hands.
"In ancient times these symbols were believed to give people different powers."
He showed one of the symbols in his notebook,
"I'm not sure, but I guess this one is believed to soothe mental pain. This one is used to make a person physically stronger, and this one..."
He kept explaining a few symbols in his notebook while Arsh listened attentively, asking questions. It was his first time hearing about these symbols and this belief system.
"For example, the legend of the King of Kuşka."
"King Bertham?"
"Yes. Legends say he was able to control desert dust and wind, and that he was an extremely powerful man. A couple of years ago, his burial chamber was found. We believe he had similar symbols. There were some inscriptions. It was something like that."
Will started to speak in old Kurshaniese,
"A ruler who commands the desert itself. When he walks, the sands rise in reverence. His foes are crushed in his grasp, their bodies turned to dust, their souls cast into the desert's eternal sands. The Goddess granted him power and might, and etched upon his flesh in blood the divine symbol of Her gift."
Will was looking at Arsh as if he expected a reaction from him, but the reaction didn't come.
"It sounds like a normal epic to me," said Arsh, after giving it a thought for a few seconds.
"No, no, you don't understand… The power granted by the Goddess was etched onto his body. You probably know the legend—he wanted to be cremated and his ashes scattered into the desert, so he could become one with the desert sands. But I think the reality is different... Maybe he didn't want the symbols on his body to be seen by anyone, but they didn't listen and built him a burial chamber anyway. Some experts probably examined his body, but of course, I don't know what they found."
"Are you saying he has these symbols on his body, like a tattoo?"
Tattoos were a tradition for both men and women in his society. When they turned 20, they received a tattoo—typically a family symbol—to mark their transition into adulthood. After that they can travel alone, get married and start their own job. So ıt doesn't sound weird at all
"Hmm, not like a tattoo. They appear to have used sharp objects like small razors, daggers, things like that to carve into the skin."
'Symbols that give people powers. I've never heard of anything like that. But he looks like he really believes what he's saying... weird,' he thought while listening to the man.
But then, he remembered the girl in the sarcophagus. When he thought about it, he realized the delicate lace upon her skin was made of countless tiny symbols. They looked different from each other. He turned his eyes to the sarcophagus that had just been brought down the stairs.
A chill ran through him.
After listening to Will, he asked,
"Then what about these symbols?"
He pointed to the circles on the pillar the young man was leaning against.
"They are everywhere in this burial chamber. Even on the lid of the sarcophagus."
"I'm not entirely sure, actually, but if I had to guess, they're mostly related to protection. I've seen something similar in a book before, but never in real life. Usually, burial chambers don't have these kinds of symbols. Most of the time, only details related to the life of the person buried inside are carved onto the sarcophagus."
They talked about symbols, the Kurshan Empire, and their traditions while the others continued working to remove the sarcophagus from the burial chamber.
Later, Arsh climbed out of the well and looked up at the sky. There were about two hours left until sunrise. No one had slept or rested; they hadn't even had a chance to eat properly.
All that remained was to pull the sarcophagus up. The necessary mechanisms were in place, and everyone had taken their positions. His father was explaining the procedure to Professor Millway's men. After a brief discussion, they headed toward the well's entrance.
Arsh and Will watched the scene from the side. The sarcophagus had been carefully secured; some of the ropes were passed through the scaffold above and would be pulled by the men in the well, while the others would haul it from above. This way, the risk of it falling would be reduced, and it could be lifted upward in a balanced manner.
Soon Arsh's father gave a command and they started pulling. They were shouting in rhythm and stepping back so they wouldn't lose their balance. It was loud, but kind of satisfying to watch the tempo. However, Professor Millway's constant shouting of 'Be careful!' ruined the rhythm.
After ten minutes without any problem, the sarcophagus was on the surface. The men threw themselves to the ground, wearily. The only thing left was to drag the sarcophagus a little further and load it onto the cart. The rest would be easy with the help of the horses.
Arsh looked at the sarcophagus once more. There had been no problem. No one had yet realized he had taken the dagger.
He hid the dagger in his clothes and didn't want to give it to others. He didn't want them to realize he had tampered with the tomb, especially since they all seemed extremely cautious. His father's men had worked for the Professor before, but this was the first time he seemed this excited. Arsh hoped they wouldn't notice the dagger was missing.
Once these people left, he could keep the dagger. Perhaps years later, he could tell his own children a story about this day, just like his grandfather's stories, and show them the dagger.
oon the sarcophagus had been lifted onto the carriage and was being wrapped for transport. Arsh went down into the well again with his father and a few men to haul up the remaining gear. Ropes, picks, and shovels were gathered, torches taken, and everyone climbed back out. Arsh lashed the last of the equipment to his father's pack.
"You go up first, Arsh."
"No, your load is heavier and I'm holding the light. I'll follow right behind you."
His father pulled himself up, set the load down from his back, and leaned into the well.
"Come on, Arsh."
"I'm coming."
The moment Arsh held the ladder, a voice came up from the outside of the well. An explosive bang left him momentarily stunned.
It was the sound of a rifle.
Looking up, he saw his father's face twisted in pain and shock.
"Dad… What is…. Dad!"
There was something terribly wrong. He looked at his father, wanting to do something, but he couldn't.
His father lost his balance and fell back into the well.
…
Arsh didn't know what to do. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. His eyes were fixed on his father's bloodied body lying in front of him.
"What's happening? Why is my father like that?"
He sat to the ground and shook his father, trying to make him get up.
"Dad, please… get up. Let me see you. Dad, are you okay?"
He wasn't okay, and he knew it.
Yet he kept calling.
From outside the well, the gunfire continued. Arsh could hear the screams of the other men.
Few people in this area owned rifles. However, the guard teams accompanying the archaeologists carried guns to protect them while traveling.
Arsh tried to make sense of the situation, but he couldn't think clearly with his father lying in front of him, covered in blood.
'So, they were the ones shooting? But why?'
He wasn't sure how many gunshots he heard. Then, a silence followed.
"Is anyone still alive? Did you check everyone?"
"No one is left alive."
"There's one in the well."
When Arsh heard that, he looked up. The sun was about to rise. In the pale light of dawn, he saw Professor Millway. Beside him stood a man with a rifle, aiming it directly at him.
"Young boy. You're the only one left, but I'll let you live. I give you my word. If you find what I seek, I will reward you."
After saying that, he shouted to his men
"Do not kill the boy! Seal the entrance to the well!"
Then, the rope ladder fell on the ground right beside Arsh.
…
"Professor... Professor what is happening? Why? Why did you kill these men?"
Will was trembling with fear. He was trembling because he had just become part of a slaughter. He was trembling because it was his first time seeing men die.
Everything had been normal just a second ago.
"You will understand later."
That was the only answer he gave. Professor Millway looked excited. It was obvious the last thing on his mind was the people who had just been shot by his command.
Will saw the men gathering the materials and the dead bodies. They loaded them all onto the carts. When he found the chance, he ran toward the well and looked at the person inside. He saw Arsh. For a second, they looked at each other.
Both of them had fear in their eyes. Neither of them knew what they should do. They couldn't think straight.
Will wanted to help him, but it was impossible to rescue the boy. He looked around to be sure no one was looking at him at that moment. Without a second thought, he took a notebook and a flask from his inner pocket and threw them into the well together. He didn't have any food or water with him and he didn't even have time to bring anything else.
"Will! Come here! It is not the time to pity the child."
When he heard the Professor's voice, he trembled all over again and followed him without a word.
Soon, he watched them cover the entrance to the well, first with wood planks, then with parched soil. Everything else had been gathered and cleaned up. The bloodstains and the marks in the ground were left for the desert to take care of on its own.
…
The sun, which would soon bring scorching heat, was rising over the cold night, its light illuminating the desolate desert.
Arsh watched them without blinking while they closed the well. He didn't make a sound. Deep down, he knew that screaming or struggling would be useless.
For now, all he could see was the darkness where his eyes were fixed.