Exodus by J.F. Penn Page A

here.”
    Natasha crawled after Matthew into the cave system, breathing deeply to dampen the tendrils of claustrophobia that still threatened. She heard Isac pause behind her, and a slight scratching noise but she focused on keeping her mind in check, for he could look after himself.  
    After crawling for a few minutes, they took another side tunnel, this one with four choices, then another fork took them further down into the mountain. Natasha wondered at the size of this underground maze and how the Lemba could have excavated it with primitive tools. It must have taken many years, perhaps the result of paranoia on their part that people would discover this ultimate treasure.  
    Her excitement grew at the thought of what they might find. A cave system like this would perfectly preserve ancient wood, as it was essentially climate controlled, the same temperature all year round. She thought of Tutankhamun’s tomb, sealed in the fourteenth century BC and yet the treasures had been perfectly preserved in the dry environment for 3000 years until it had been opened again.  
    Matthew suddenly halted and called back between his legs, since he couldn’t turn in the narrow tunnel.  
    “Be careful here as we have to cross some holes. They go down to open pits that are impossible to climb out of, so we must go down the right chute to the ngoma.”
    Natasha repeated the message back to Isac and they crawled on, soon reaching the holes he spoke of. She shone her head torch down into the depths of one of them but could see nothing in the black maws. They smelt of emptiness and for a moment, she felt a pull of attraction to the black depths, like the feeling of wanting to drive into on-coming headlights. She crawled carefully around the hole.  
    Finally, Matthew stopped and slid down into a hole that looked exactly like all the others. Natasha waited a few seconds and then slid in herself. It wasn’t too steep, so she pushed herself forward and down. The ground was rough enough not to slide and would be easy enough to get out of again when they had to make the return journey. It now occurred to her that the Ark must be small indeed to make it this far down the narrow passageways. Was this trip all for nothing, or would they find a piece of the Ark here too?  
    She emerged at the bottom and dropped a meter or so into a circular space. There was a fresher smell, so there must be an airflow carved into the mountain. Matthew lit a camping lamp which cast a warm glow over the room as Isac dropped down behind them.  
    “This is the sanctuary.” Matthew spoke with reverence, despite his earlier bravado. “That is the real ngoma.”
    Natasha walked to the stone dais, where a truly ancient wooden artifact was displayed. It was a large drum, made of hard wood with leather stretched over the top, and clearly the modern ngoma was based on this design. She reached out her fingers, anticipating the rush she had felt in the sanctuary of Aksum.  
    “You cannot touch it,” Matthew’s voice was high-pitched with concern, as he grabbed her arm to pull her away from the ngoma.  
    Natasha laughed. “Suddenly so reverent. But I don’t believe in your gods.”  
    She roughly pushed him away and placed her hand on the ancient wood. Matthew sucked in a concerned breath, as if waiting for the expected thunderclap as she was struck down by the heavens. Natasha felt nothing except a sinking disappointment for the wasted journey.  
    “See, there is no power inherent in this object,” Natasha spat her words. “You give it power through your worship but it is nothing more than a wooden drum.” She turned to Isac. “What do you think? Can we take this back to Jerusalem as the Ark?”  
    Isac came forward and together they examined the ngoma.  
    “It’s clearly ancient,” he said, “and a hard wood that has been preserved by this environment, but it doesn’t look like what you would expect.”
    “Bloody Indiana Jones,” Natasha cursed.