The Strength of the Few (Hierarchy, #2)

by James Islington

Neither of us speak for a while as we walk. I study the glyphs carved around the paintings on the tombs we pass. My initial impression was right: according to Caeror, it runs very close to the Nyripkian language back home. There are hundreds upon hundreds of different characters. “What do they say?” I ask it absently as I inspect them. Trails of sand drift down the crags and catch the fading light, shifted by some gust of wind above. My voice echoes into the gathering dim. “Names. Their lives and deeds. Their families.” He joins me in my quiet scrutiny. “The paintings show what they wish to do when they reach Aaru, the Field of Reeds. Their afterlife,” he adds, though I’d guessed that much.

Egyptian mythos.