In the home counties of England, nestled amidst many miles of woodland and idyllic open countryside surrounding the Berkshire-Buckinghamshire border, stood Crevice Manor, the ancient, sprawling estate situated on the outskirts of Larcroft; the sleepy village situated some miles from the nearest town. The ancestral seat of the Crevice family had stood upon the site since at least the year 1086, its location recorded in the Domesday Book; the land bestowed by William the Conqueror following the Norman Conquest of 1066.

Over the centuries, the Grade II listed manor house had been renovated many times, from the far more modest medieval abode of the 11th century, to its present appearance of a central block surrounded by four wings, completed in 1843; an impressive example of Victorian architecture comprised of limestone walls and magnificent moulded architrave surrounding the many mullioned windows, whilst the main entrance was a rather grand affair, the ornate lintel above oak double doors supported by several stone colonnades.

Outside the main entrance of the manor house stood a splendid stone fountain at the end of a wide gravel driveway snaking its way towards the gatehouse connecting with the winding country lane encircling the estate, whilst at the rear were the gardens, comprised of many acres of neatly-mowed lawns bordered by flower beds, beyond which was a wall of hedges positioned so as to create an enclosed recreational area for the benefit of the occasional village fete or fundraising event; scattered here and there stood several stone statues depicting the feminine form. Adjoining the west wing was the garage, containing an enviable array of classic cars and motorcycles, whilst some distance to the east, beyond the labyrinthine layout of a hedge maze, stood the stables.

The grounds of the manor house comprised parkland stretching for some 300 acres, reminiscent in its appearance to the landscape stylings of Capability Brown; its woodland wandered by red deer. At the heart of the grounds was a large lake, home to many swans and other aquatic birds gliding gracefully across its surface; guarded by a magnificent marble representation of Neptune, stern features frozen for all eternity beneath a coral crown, whilst powerful palms wielded the shaft of a trident with ease. Some distance to the east of the lake, its tip clearly visible above a copse, stood a genuine Egyptian obelisk recovered from Karnak; whilst to the west, enshrouded by the almost permanent shade of the surrounding woodland, lay the ivy-entangled walls of the Crevice family vault.

The current encumbent responsible for the manor house and its surrounding estate's upkeep, a young woman of only 25 years, was Lady Alexandria Crevice; the aristocrat informally known to her friends as Sandy. Skin ever so slightly bronzed with a wild, whiplike length of plaited hazel hair framing chiselled cheekbones, narrow nose, fulsome, fleshy lips and enchanting emerald eyes, Sandy looked every inch the elegant English aristocrat, each curve exuding confidence; her athletic, hourglass figure accommodating a perfect pair of peachlike breasts supported by shapely legs that seemingly went on forever.

Sandy was the only child of Lord Douglas Crevice, the acclaimed archaeologist, and his wife Lady Amelie; sadly her parents had passed away when she was only 15 years old, apparently in an unfortunate accident at an excavation site in South America. Upon completing finishing school at the exclusive Dunlernin Academy for Girls, situated in Scotland, Sandy had studied at Bede's College, Oxbridge; following in her father's footsteps upon earning a degree in archaeology at the age of 21.

Never one to shy away from adventure, Sandy had undertaken an incredible amount of archaeological expeditions in the intervening years; her travels taking her to all four corners of the globe in her quest to uncover ancient artefacts and legendary lost civilizations. For example, on a recent visit to Venezuela, she had discovered a feral foot-worshipping tribe living alongside the Orinoco, the primitive people greatly prizing the aristocrat's own perfectly pedicured feet; finding herself fortunate upon fleeing the village with her soles still attached.

At present, upon completing several lengths in the manor house's heated indoor swimming pool as part of her daily workout, the aristocrat was padding along a wood-panelled corridor in the direction of the study, attired in the pretty floral patterns of a crimson-coloured silk kimono and a pair of straw-soled zori sandals; souvenirs from a recent archaeological trip to Tokyo. The study was a spacious affair adjoining the library, many mementos of earlier adventures adorning its walls, including a solid gold scarab, a crystal skull taken from a Mayan tomb, and, upon an outsized plaque, the mounted head of a Tyrannosaurus Rex; the supposedly extinct relic of the Cretaceous era discovered lurking in a lost valley in the Congo. Before the windows of the room stood a solid oak desk, atop which sat the monitor screen of a computer and its accompanying keyboard; upon one of a pair of elegantly-upholstered, antique chairs was seated Sandy's assistant Roxy Rhode.

Roxy was a somewhat small, stick-thin native of New York, sporting short locks of boyish black hair; hazel eyes betraying a most mischievous sparkle amongst enchanting elfin features. Attired in a tight, ruby-red T-shirt emblazoned with an image of her favourite rock band and a pair of charcoal-coloured, stonewashed skinny jeans, the attractive, chirpy 21 year-old assisted the aristocrat in the capacity of computer expert and technical wizard. The tiny toes of the techie were unshod, as they invariably were, her softly-padding soles frequently heard pitter-pattering about the place; much to the chagrin of Grouse the butler, the imprints of bare feet upon the polished parquet flooring a constant source of irritation to the old man. As Sandy approached the study desk, she at once enquired of her assistant as to why she had been summoned; having intended to indulge in a little rest and relaxation that afternoon.

"It's Rosie!" revealed Roxy in response, "Apparently she's involved in some mystery at the museum that she thinks you're gonna want to hear about!"

Seating herself before the monitor screen, Sandy at once greeted the familiar features of an old friend; that of the Egyptologist Doctor Rosetta Stone. She was an attractive, if overly modest in appearance young woman of 25 years; frequently-flushed features responsible for the shortening of her forename to Rosie. Shoulder-length locks of cinnamon-coloured hair was bound into a bun at the back of her head, whilst a faint cluster of freckles crept across the bridge of a button nose, azure eyes nestled beneath the large lenses of a pair of spectacles; affording the fairly bashful female the appearance of something of a spinster. During her time at Oxbridge, Rosie had earned a double doctorate in the studies of archaeology and ancient history; often assisting her aristocratic friend and former university roomate in the excavation of newly-discovered sites.

"Rosie, good to see you!" smiled Sandy, addressing the onscreen image, "So tell me, what's new in the exciting world of Egyptology?"

"It's Egyptology, there's nothing new - just a bunch of old stuff buried beneath the sand!" reminded Roxy with a most mischievous grin.

"Well only this morning I returned to Cairo from Luxor, where recently I've been busy working on something of an enigma - the excavation of a mummy discovered in a previously unknown tomb located in the Valley of the Kings!" revealed Rosie in her humble, softly-spoken tone, "However records of this pharaoh's reign don't appear anywhere in the history books, it's almost as if she never existed!"

"She?" repeated Sandy in surprise, "What was her name?"

"Tikeltootsi!" replied Rosie, "I take it the name means nothing to you?"

"Tikeltootsi... No, can't say as it's ringing any bells!" shrugged Sandy.

"So far, what little we have learned of her reign some three and-a-half thousand years ago has been handed to us only in the form of heiroglyphics hand-painted upon the walls of the burial chamber!" explained the Egyptologist, "Elsewhere, it appears as though the queen's existence has been erased from reliefs charting her rule, any monuments erected in her honour apparently pulled down!"

"It's not uncommon to come across such glaring gaps in the history of ancient Egypt!" reminded Sandy, "If it hadn't been for the Romans destroying many magnificent examples of Egyptian libraries, temples and pyramids, we would know a lot more about the many dynasties than we do today! So you say this tomb was discovered in the Valley of the Kings?"

"Yes, completely undisturbed since the sarcophagus was sealed inside!" revealed Rosie, "We found a wealth of treasures inside the tomb, most of which have been recovered and catalogued by now. Its interior is far more grand than that of Tutankhamen, only a few yards distant. Of course, the hieroglyphs painted upon the walls of the tomb came complete with the usual curses, death to those that dare to disturb the eternal slumber of its occupant, that sort of thing - however it seems that for once the warnings were heeded, for the site has never been disturbed by grave robbers over the centuries! But now comes the strange part, because it appears that when it comes to having her eternal rest so rudely interrupted, Tikeltootsi has not taken it lying down!"

"What do you mean?" wondered Sandy, somewhat puzzled.

"The mummy is missing from the museum!" revealed Rosie, "When I returned from Luxor this morning, I discovered there had been a break-in overnight, apparently during a powercut that immobilised the museum's security! Whoever has taken the mummy apparently knew exactly where to look!"

"An inside job?" piped up Roxy.

"It's possible! Certainly one of the assistant curators is also missing!" explained the Egyptologist, "However if Petra Fayed was indeed involved, then for some strange reason she decided to leave her sandals lying about on the lobby floor! Of course, that's not all we found upon the floor..."

"Oh? And what else did you discover?" enquired the adventurer.

"A feather!" revealed Rosie, "A single, solitary raven feather that may bear some significance to this mystery! But for the time being, allow me to enlighten you as to the tale of Tikeltootsi..."

Settling back in her seat, Sandy listened intently to the legend of the long-dead ruler's brief but bloody reign related by Rosie. As a princess in the court of her father, the pharaoh Neronuf, the stunning siren's ambitions stretched far beyond her social standing; soon the old man was discovered dead, a goblet of wine laced with the venom of an asp spilled upon the palace floor beside the body. Only Klosinuf, the princess' younger brother expected by all to ascend to the position of pharaoh, stood in the schemer's way; it was not long before the young prince was found floating face down in a bath off ass's milk.

Declaring herself Queen Tikeltootsi I of the Umpteenth Dynasty, her reign was a time of turbulence, for the ruler's ruthless ambition, combined with crippling paranoia, soon saw the armies under her control constantly engaged in warfare with the many savage, desert dwelling tribes attempting to encroach upon her kingdom; the rapidly dwindling, demoralised men frequently failing in their duties of repelling the rabble. Yet according to legend, the impending threat of invasion did not overly trouble the tyrant; for besides her fondness for bloodshed, the queen's only other passion appeared to be that of punishing those that displeased her.

Bound with ropes whilst reclining upon a couch, those unfortunates found to be at fault of evoking the cruel queen's wrath would have the soles of their feet expertly teased with raven feathers by a trained tickle torturer; the tyrant looking on in extreme satisfaction from the comfort of her throne. After some hours had elapsed, the hapless victim would eventually expire; succumbing to the lack of oxygen caused by the constant screams of hysterical laughter.

The sadist's favourite pastime, it seemed, was to single out one of the many serving girls of the court, frequently for the most frivolous of reasons; at Tikeltootsi's command, the terrified girl would be taken away for the purpose of punishment. In the privacy of the queen's private chambers, the serving girl, bound hand and foot with ropes, would then be mercilessly tortured by Tikeltootsi herself. Flicking a feather back and forth with fervour, the ruler would relish every moment of the servant's squirming motions; the girl desperately pleading to be pardoned in response to the teasing torment inflicted upon her exposed soles.

Of course, it was not long before the invading armies dwelling in the deserts threatened to overthrow the tyrant, and so, inside a secret, subterranean temple beneath the palace, surrounded by a faithful following of fellow worshippers, Tikeltootsi implored the ancient Egyptian goddess Corvus to assist her in her thirst for vengeance against those who would seize her lands; according to the tale, much blood was spilled in the offering of sacrifices.

"Corvus? But surely Corvus was worshipped only during the pre-dynastic era by the people of Upper Egypt, albeit a select few fairly unsavoury characters, until unification of the lands saw her largely forgotten by all but the most fanatical of followers!" shrugged Sandy.

"Okay, I'm confused - who the heck is Corvus?" wondered Roxy.

"An ancient goddess associated with death, vengeance, malice, spite and so on!" explained Sandy, "Like many Egyptian deities, she was portrayed in an anthropormorphic form, that of a raven-headed woman, her torso perched upon a pair of scaly, raptorlike legs!"

"But surely that's just some old fairytale?" replied Roxy in incredulity, "I mean, you'd have to be crazy to believe in animal-headed gods! You two haven't been drinking, have you?"

"Me? I'm as Sobek as a judge!" quipped Sandy, before bidding the Egyptlogist continue her tale once more.

According to the legend, Corvus responded to the persistent prayers and sacrifices in her honour by bestowing upon the queen an enchanted headband forged in the fires of the underworld, fashioned from solid gold; the band bearing the gilded feather of a raven in recognition of the goddess. This artefact, apparently capable of channelling the same destructive forces attributed to the Ark of the Covenant, enforced Tikeltootsi's will; within days, the tyrant headed her own armies, marching out into the desert to meet the oncoming menace that threatened to overthrow her rule.

With a wave of her arms and a wicked smile, Tikeltootsi swept aside the savages as a surge of supernatural energy cut clean through their ranks; rather like the parting of the Red Sea. Alarmed, the advancing army continued the attack nonetheless; soon several of their number had been scooped up by an invisible force before being dashed against the desert cliffs. Finally, the remaining few still standing fled for their lives as another surge of energy was unleashed; those unfortunates in its path combusting upon contact. Victorious, Tikeltootsi ordered her army to round up as many prisoners as they could muster; returning to the palace, the survivors were imprisoned in the dungeons before being slowly tickle tortured to death one by one.

As word spread like wildfire amongst the desert-dwelling savages, soon none dared to oppose the tyrant, yet Tikeltootsi's thirst for power was far from satiated; increasing her armies, she vowed to march upon the rest of the known world. Of course, Tikeltootsi's tyrannical reign combined with the supernatural powers at her disposal caused much consternation amongst the court, soon inspiring several assassination attempts upon her life; those found guilty of treason tickle tortured to the point of death. Yet it came as no surprise to her people when, in the 7th year of her reign, at the tender age of only 25, the queen was discovered dead; a bloodied blade buried between her ribs.

"You've heard of the Scorpion King, of course - well it appears Tikeltootsi was the Raven Queen, the feathers of the bird frequently associated with death fast becoming her favoured instrument of torture!" shuddered Rosie, a slight shiver creeping down her spine upon completion of her curious tale.

"I see..." sighed Sandy thoughtfully, "So it seems yet another new chapter will need to be written in the annals of time..."

"But if this Tikeltootsi was such a rotten ruler, why did her people bother burying her at all?" interjected Roxy, "Why not just dump her out in the desert somewhere, so the vultures could pick the corpse clean?"

"It was the ancient Egyptian custom!" shrugged Sandy, turning to address the assistant, "Even the most tyrannical of rulers would be afforded a fittingly extravagant funeral, surrounded by the wealth they had amassed in life, lest their spirit rise up in anger - seeking revenge against those that had wronged them!"

"But I don't understand, what does any of this matter?" replied Roxy, "So what if somebody's stolen the mummy? I mean, it's not like they can return this long-dead dame to life!"

"Unfortunately for us, and everybody else upon this planet, that is precisely what they can do!" sighed Sandy, suddenly sounding somewhat grave, "If whoever has taken the mummy has the Book of the Dead at their disposal, then bringing the queen back to life will be a walk in the park, believe me - I've seen it done before!"

"Okay, so now I'm really confused - what the heck is the Book of the Dead?" wondered Roxy, "Only it sure doesn't sound like anything I want sitting on my nightstand!"

"It's an ancient funerary text detailing spells recited by the high priests to assist the souls of the deceased through the underworld, or rather the Duat, and onwards into the afterlife!" explained Sandy, "Of course, without the accompanying canopic jars, all the incantations in the world will not be enough to raise the dead!"

"Canopic jars?" repeated Roxy in puzzlement, "A little help here?"

"Canopic jars are vessels fashioned from clay, alabaster and the like that the ancient Egyptians would use to store the internal organs of the body before the embalming process began!" explained Sandy, slight traces of concern creeping across her features, "So as long as the mummy's innards haven't gone walkabout as well, then everything should be fine!"

"Unfortunately they have!" revealed Rosie, "The jars were stored alongside the sarcophagus, you see - the complete collection was stolen! However the headband at least remains in the museum's possession, I stored it safely in the vault myself before briefly returning to Luxor!"

"Then we must pray that it remains there for the time being, before these fanatics attempt another break-in at the museum!" observed the adventurer in alarm.

"Fanatics? What fanatics?" replied Roxy.

"Undoubtedly what we are dealing with here is some fanatical order of followers dedicated to returning the dead queen to life!" surmised Sandy, "It's the only logical explanation available to us, for the raven feather found at the scene suggests my theory is correct, as does the fact that nothing other than the mummy and its organs were removed from the museum!"

"That's right!" agreed Rosie, "There are treasures stored in the museum far more valuable than any mummy!"

"You say that the headband is supposed to be the source of this tyrannical ruler's power, well let's just assume for one moment the legend is true!" suggested Sandy, "In which case, we must prevent the artefact from falling into the hands of these fanatics at all costs! I will book a flight to Cairo immediately, travelling tomorrow morning, Rosie - so meet me at the airport! In the meantime, stay indoors if you can - for if these fanatics have learned that you yourself removed the headband for further study, they may well be monitoring your movements as we speak!"