The Spitting Cobra by Gill Harvey

behind her, the tunnel was soon completely dark. Isis could see nothing ahead, not even the slightest glimmer of reflected light. It was as though her eyes had stopped working. Fighting back her fear, she felt the walls and roof of the tunnel with her fingers before pulling herself forward.
    ‘Keep going,’ Hopi’s voice reassured her. ‘I’m right here.’
    Isis wanted to stop. It was difficult to breathe, and she had never known such total blackness. The tunnel seemed to wind on for ever into the depths of the mountain. But every now and again, Hopi’s hand touched her heels and gave her courage.
    The air was changing. It seemed colder, and was mingled with faint odours that Isis could vaguely recognise. Old wood, perhaps, and incense. She groped upwards for the roof ahead of her and suddenly found it had gone. Reaching out, she traced her hand around the edge of the tunnel. The walls had gone, too. Wherever it was leading, the tunnel had finally arrived.
    Isis checked the floor ahead. There was no drop below. She wriggled out into the space, and found that she could stretch her arms. She reached as high as she could, and touched nothing. Her heart pounding, she tried standing up.
    ‘Hopi!’ she called in excitement. ‘It’s huge!’
    ‘Stay where you are!’ called her brother, still deep inside the tunnel. ‘I’m almost there.’
    Isis did as he said. It was spooky, standing in the middle of such darkness. Even here, there were no chinks of light for her eyes to grasp and adjust to. When Hopi reached the open space, only her ears told her he was there. She listened as he fumbled with his bag, arranged the little acacia twigs and began to rub the tinder-sticks together.
    There was a sudden flare of light as the sticks made a spark, which caught on the dry acacia. Isis and Hopi both gasped. By the flickering flame, images of all the gods stared down from the walls around them. It was a royal tomb! It couldn’t be anything else. A huge stone sarcophagus stood in the centre of the chamber, and all around them were beautiful, priceless objects.
    But many of them were not in one piece.
    ‘It’s been ransacked!’ exclaimed Isis. ‘Look . . . look at that chair – it’s almost been hacked to bits!’
    All that was left was the wood, scraped clean of its gold plate and precious inlays. Only little flecks remained to show that it had once been covered. Chariot wheels lay in a crooked pile against the wall, and a painted statue of the god Anubis lay thrown on its side on the floor. They gazed around in disbelief. Anything that could fit into the little tunnel had clearly been taken.
    The acacia twigs had almost burnt out. The flames were already sinking to ash and ember. In less than a minute, they would be engulfed in darkness once more.
    ‘This is a terrible place,’ said Isis, her voice trembling. ‘Hopi, we have to get out of here, before the gods seek their vengeance!’
    Hopi nodded his agreement. His chest felt tight with anger. He poked at the acacia twigs to create one more flare of light, and took a final look around. The last thing he saw was a dark hole in one corner, not far from the tunnel they had come through.
    ‘There’s another hole there,’ he said, but Isis had already disappeared, and was crawling towards daylight. The acacia fire died, and Hopi stood alone in the darkness.
    .
    Isis had never been so glad to see the sun. She emerged from the tunnel blinking, almost weak with relief, then immediately turned and peered back down it.
    ‘Hopi!’ she called. ‘Are you coming?’
    ‘Yes,’ her brother’s voice came back. ‘But my leg hurts. I have to go slowly.’
    Isis sat down to wait. Her stomach rumbled, and suddenly she realised that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning. She glanced up at the sun. It was beginning to dip towards the west. She was sure that Heria would have done her best to protect them, but now they’d been gone for hours. No one would believe they’d