(ATSSC) Nabu, page 1

* * *

The sound was deafening. It surprised Munir, as his dream did not accurately portray just how loud it would be.

A large crack had sprouted on the eastern side of the plateau. As the rain pounded down, the integrity of the north side of the plateau had been compromised. The crack became a gaping crevice that crawled across the top of the plateau, only a step or two from the edge. The fissure shot across the flat table of the plateau with growing momentum, the earth screaming and sucking as it pulled apart.

Munir found himself wondering if it was the 300,000 men tearing at the side of the plateau that caused it to collapse, or if it would have disintegrated in exactly the same fashion privately, another minor shifting of the landscape, unnoticed.

The king stepped to Munir’s side and pulled him away from the still crumbling side of the plateau. King Sargon was aghast, completely bewildered. The two of them stood at the top of what was now a very high cliff. Beneath them, there was only sporadic movement: random soldiers staggering about, an arm twitching, legs flailing, a priest digging frantically.

The entire Hittite-Subar horde, with only a few miraculous exceptions, had been neatly buried alive.

* * *

“We got it!”

Andy stood at the entry of the tent, arms raised in victory, waiting for the mocking cheer that was sure to be handed him by his team.

Nothing. Andy’s hands slapped back to his side. His crack team of three was huddled together around the table, studying something voraciously. Andy shook his head, walked over to a portable water cooler in the corner, and poured himself a congratulatory cup of warm water. He raised it to no one in particular and offered a toast.

“To Andy. Thanks man, for letting us not be on unemployment. You are great.”

Finally, a head turned from the table. Miriam Barker’s long, brunette pony tail whipped around as her ears finally registered Andy’s voice. Miriam smiled broadly, her smile dazzling against the thin layer of dirt on her cheeks.

“Andy. Where have you been?”

Andy rolled his eyes. The one-track mind of archeology nerds. He laughed and pushed in next to Miriam at the table. He and Miriam had received their PhDs together years ago at Brown, and were married shortly thereafter. They had made a decent name for themselves in archeological circles, known simply as “the Barkers”, they were the first people to call on most Mesopotamian digs.

She put her arm around him and whispered into his ear.

“Paydirt, baby.”

Another shining pair of eyes lifted from the table. Aziz Tanas, the administrative planner of the dig.

“We found it in S-4,” he gleamed, noting the sector of the dig where they had recovered the object of their affection, still resting in the middle of the table. “Grant just brought it in.”

Grant Hawley, a young prodigy of Mesopotamian culture, looked at the item with his hand over his mouth, studying it with glassy eyes.

Andy’s heart was beating hard in his chest and he gave Miriam a gentle squeeze. First the money, now this. It was his day, no doubt. In the middle of the table sat what every historian and archeologist hopes for the minute they break ground. Paydirt, indeed.

It was a book.

“Boxwood writing boards with inlay. Ivory hinges. Ebony housing. It’s…man…” Andy couldn’t believe it. The book, especially considering it had been buried for some three thousand years, was simply beautiful.

“It’s stunning.” Miriam shivered slightly. “What does the cover say, Grant?”

Everyone turned their eyes to Grant, the ranking resource on ancient languages. They held their breath as Grant twisted one of his eyebrows.

“It’s gibberish.”

A collective sigh drifted through the room. Grant shook his head.

“Sorry, it’s nothing I recognize. I mean…I recognize it…it’s Aramaic, more or less…it’s just not a word I recognize.”

Andy stood up and ran his hands through his hair. No matter. There would be time to unlock every character of the book. Grant was the best in the business and all he needed was time.

“What the hell was that thing doing on a battlefield?” Miriam’s voice was dreamy as she stared at the book.

“It was on the same strata as the battle?”

Grant snorted. “Not just the same level. The damn thing was sitting on a breastplate. Inside a bone box, wrapped in linen…but the box was on the breastplate…no doubt from the same era.”

“Aziz, get a hold of the Sharjah Museum and get us-”

“Done. Already done. My man there has a lab waiting.”

“Great. Let’s get this thing out of here.” Andy’s worst nightmare was having a find like this robbed out of their tent by the locals. The black antiquities market would literally kill for an artifact like this and the team knew it. They were already gathering the proper material to camouflage the ancient text for its trip to the museum.

Everyone but Grant, who was still thoroughly enthralled by the lettering on the front of the book. His mouth stretched into a thin smile.

“Here’s something funny.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing. They knew it was only a matter of time until Grant figured out the cover inscription, but this was even sooner than they imagined. Grant chuckled and tapped his cheek with an index finger.

“If you take the phonetic sounds of the characters here…basically, you know…if you sound out the gibberish word the way it’s written here…the way the author would have…you know what it says?”

They all froze in anticipation.

Grant looked up at Andy and shrugged, a bewildered smile creeping across his face.

“It says your name, Andy. It says Andy Barker.”

* * *