Exodus by J.F. Penn

renewed many times, the reds made brighter by adding layers, but Natasha could see the faded edges and wondered how long they had been there. The Lemba had oral traditions and priestly DNA, so could they really have the Ark?  
    “Come.” Matthew called them to the back of the cave. “This is the cave they showed that British researcher a few years ago.”
    Isac followed him, ducking under the low hanging rocks. Natasha briefly stood alone, her thoughts with the people in the painting, carrying what they believed was the very presence of God. Then she turned and followed.  
    The second cave was small and stuffy, far from the air flow of the entrance, and it smelt of blood overlaid with a sickly incense. What looked like a large wooden drum was mounted on a raised platform in the middle, and around it were packets of offerings wrapped in leaves. There were copper loops on the drum for the carrying poles, which were stacked carefully at the side of the room, but this was no Ark. Even if the word Ark could be used to describe it, Natasha could see it definitely wasn’t thousands of years old.  
    “This is the ngoma, at least the one we use for most ritual,” Matthew said.
    Natasha spun around. “What do you mean? Is there another one?”
    Matthew gave a cheeky grin. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I promised you the real ngoma, the real Ark of the Lemba.”
    Isac nodded. “We don’t have much time, so show us quickly.”
    Matthew walked behind the ngoma to the rock wall, felt along it, and then slipped sideways into a space that was camouflaged by the contours and shadows. He disappeared, then popped his head back out.  
    “Come, follow then.”
    Natasha looked at Isac. She could see the excitement in his eyes at this surprise, not that he would ever speak in such an emotional way. Perhaps they would find the Ark today after all.  
    Natasha slipped between the rock faces into the roughly hewn passage, Isac following close behind. It was tight, and even though she could see Matthew’s torchlight ahead, this was not a place to be trapped. Thinking about it triggered a moment of claustrophobia, a sense of the immense weight of rock above her. The musty air couldn’t possibly have enough oxygen to support them all and her stomach flipped, a wave of nausea crashing over her. But Natasha knew fear and how to face it.  
    From a young age, she had been taught how it feels and how to continue despite it. She had been through ritual burial and rebirth, put underground in a tomb for 48 hours, breathing only through a tube to the surface. She had been acutely aware that the guard who watched over her grave could be overcome, that she could suffocate and die there. She had fought fear then and overcome it by the sheer strength of her will. Now she would do it again. Silently, she cursed the thing within her and again she swore to get rid of it, for this weakness did not become her.  
    “Are you well?” Isac’s concerned voice whispered beside her ear, and Natasha realized she had been standing still, her breathing rapid and rasping in the cave. She took a deep breath to still her fast-beating heart.  
    “Of course,” she snapped back, turning sideways in the corridor and shuffling after Matthew’s torchlight.  
    He was waiting for them up ahead.  
    “This is where it gets difficult,” he said. “You must stay close to me as there are tunnels, dead ends and fake entrances to confuse people who don’t know the correct way.”  
    “How do you even know this place?” Isac asked. “Are you of the priestly clan.”  
    Matthew grinned, his teeth bright in the torchlight.  
    “It was a girl, the daughter of the High Priest. She showed me as a dare, for the younger generation have little respect for these sacred objects. Come, I will show you.” Three tunnels forked away from where they stood, all sloping down in slightly different directions, none tall enough to stand in. “We have to crawl from