The Serpent's Shadow (The Kane Chronicles, Book Three) (38 page)

His robes erupted in flames. Before our eyes, he dissolved into sand and a wave of cold—the power of Chaos—rippled through the Hall of Ages. Columns shook. Chunks of stone fell from the ceiling. A slab the size of an oven crashed into the steps of the dais, almost crushing the pharaoh’s throne.

“Bring down,”
I said, realizing what the hieroglyph meant. Even Isis seemed terrified by the invocation. “
Sahei
is
Bring
down
.”

Amos swore in Ancient Egyptian—something about donkeys trampling Kwai’s ghost. “He used up his life force to cast this curse. The hall is already weakened. We’ll have to leave before we’re buried alive.”

I glanced around us at the fallen magicians. Some of our initiates were starting to stir, but there was no way we could get them all to safety in time.

“We have to stop it!” I insisted. “We have four gods present! Can’t we save the hall?”

Amos furrowed his brow. “The power of Set will not help me in this. He can only destroy, not restore.”

Another column toppled. It broke across the floor, barely missing one of the unconscious rebels.

Walt—who looked quite good in armor, by the way—shook his head. “This is beyond Anubis. I’m sorry.”

The floor rumbled. We had only seconds to live. Then we would be just another bunch of entombed Egyptians.

“Carter?” I asked.

He regarded me helplessly. He was still weak, and I realized his battle magic wouldn’t be much good in this situation.

I sighed. “So it comes down to me, as always. Fine. You three shield the others as best you can. If this doesn’t work, get out quickly.”

“If
what
doesn’t work?” Amos said, as more chunks of ceiling rained down around us. “Sadie, what are you planning?”

“Just a word, dear uncle.” I raised my staff and called on the power of Isis.

She immediately understood what I needed. Together, we tried to find calm in the Chaos. I focused on the most peaceful, well-ordered moments of my life—and there weren’t many. I remembered my sixth birthday party in Los Angeles with Carter, my dad and mum—the last clear memory I had of all of us together as a family. I imagined listening to music in my room at Brooklyn House while Khufu ate Cheerios on my dresser. I imagined sitting on the terrace with my friends, having a restful breakfast as Philip of Macedonia splashed in his pool. I remembered Sunday afternoons at Gran and Gramps’s flat—Muffin on my lap, Gramps’s rugby game on the telly, and Gran’s horrible biscuits and weak tea on the table. Good times, those were.

Most important, I faced down my own chaos. I accepted my jumbled emotions about whether I belonged in London or New York, whether I was a magician or a schoolgirl. I was Sadie Kane, and if I survived today, I could bloody well balance it all. And, yes, I accepted Walt and Anubis…I gave up my anger and dismay. I imagined both of them with me, and if that was peculiar, well then, it fit right in with the rest of my life. I made peace with the idea. Walt was alive. Anubis was flesh and blood. I stilled my restlessness and let go of my doubts.

“
Ma’at
,” I said.

I felt as if I’d struck a tuning fork against the foundation of the earth. Deep harmony resonated outward through every level of the Duat.

The Hall of Ages stilled. Columns rose and repaired themselves. The cracks in the ceiling and floor sealed. Holographic curtains of light blazed once again along either side of the hall, and hieroglyphs once more filled the air.

I collapsed into Walt’s arms. Through my fuzzy vision, I saw him smiling down at me. Anubis, too. I could see them both, and I realized I didn’t have to pick.

“Sadie, you did it,” he said. “You’re so amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered. “Good night.”

They tell me I was only out a few seconds, but it felt like centuries. When I came to, the other magicians were back on their feet. Amos smiled down at me. “Up you come, my girl.”

He helped me to my feet. Carter hugged me quite enthusiastically, almost as if he appreciated me properly for once.

“It’s not over,” Carter warned. “We have to get to the surface. Are you ready?”

I nodded, though neither of us was in good shape. We’d used up too much energy in the fight for the Hall of Ages. Even with the gods’ help, we were in no condition to face Apophis. But we had little choice.

“Carter,” Amos said formally, gesturing to the empty throne. “You are blood of the pharaohs, Eye of Horus. You carry the crook and flail, bestowed by Ra. The kingship is yours. Will you lead us, gods and mortals, against the enemy?”

Carter stood straight. I could see the doubt and fear in him, but possibly that was just because I knew him. I’d spoken his secret name. On the outside, he looked confident, strong, adult—even kingly.

[Yes, I said that. Don’t get a big head, brother dear. You’re still a huge dork.]

“I’ll lead you,” Carter said. “But the throne will have to wait. Right now, Ra needs us. We have to get to the surface. Can you show us the quickest way?”

Amos nodded. “And the rest of you?”

The other magicians shouted assent—even the former rebels.

“We aren’t many,” Walt observed. “What are your orders, Carter?”

“First we get reinforcements,” he said. “It’s time I summoned the gods to war.”

C A R T E R

S
ADIE SAYS I LOOKED CONFIDENT
?

Good one.

Actually, being offered kingship of the universe (or supreme command over gods and magicians, or whatever) pretty much had me shaking in my shoes.

I was grateful that it had happened as we headed into combat, so I didn’t have time to think about it too much or freak out.

Go with it
, Horus said.
Use my courage.

For once I was glad to let him take the lead. Otherwise when we reached the surface and I saw how bad things were, I would’ve run back inside, screaming like a kindergartner.

(Sadie says that’s not fair. Our kindergartners weren’t screaming. They were more anxious for combat than I was.)

Anyway, our little band of magicians popped out of a secret tunnel halfway up Khafre’s pyramid and stared down at the end of the world.

To say Apophis was huge would be like saying the
Titanic
took on a little water. Since we’d been underground, the serpent had grown. Now he coiled under the desert for miles, wrapping around the pyramids and tunneling under the outskirts of Cairo, lifting entire neighborhoods like old carpeting.

Only the serpent’s head was above ground, but it rose almost as tall as the pyramids. It was formed of sandstorm and lightning, like Sadie described; and when it fanned out its cobra’s crest, it displayed a blazing hieroglyph no magician would ever write:
Isfet
, the sign of Chaos:

The four gods battling Apophis looked tiny in comparison. Sobek straddled the serpent’s back, chomping down again and again with his powerful crocodile jaws and smashing away with his staff. His attacks connected, but they didn’t seem to bother Apophis.

Bes danced around in his Speedo, swinging a wooden club and yelling, “Boo!” so loudly, the people in Cairo were probably cowering under the beds. But the giant Chaos snake did not look terrified.

Our cat friend Bast wasn’t having much luck either. She leaped onto the serpent’s head and slashed wildly with her knives, then jumped away before Apophis could shake her off; but the serpent only seemed interested in one target.

Standing in desert between the Great Pyramid and the Sphinx, Zia was surrounded in brilliant golden light. It was hard to look directly at her, but she was shooting fireballs like a Roman candle—each one exploding against the serpent’s body and disrupting his form. The serpent retaliated, biting chunks out of the desert, but he couldn’t seem to find Zia. Her location shifted like a mirage—always several feet away from wherever Apophis struck.

Still, she couldn’t keep this up forever. Looking into the Duat, I could see the four gods’ auras weakening, and Apophis kept getting larger and stronger.

“What do we do?” Jaz asked nervously.

“Wait for my signal,” I said.

“Which is what?” Sadie asked.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll be back.”

I closed my eyes and sent my
ba
into the heavens. Suddenly I stood in the throne room of the gods. Stone columns soared overhead. Braziers of magical fire stretched into the distance, their light reflecting on the polished marble floor. In the center of the room, Ra’s sun boat rested on its dais. His throne of fire sat empty.

I seemed to be alone—until I called out.

“Come to me.” Horus and I spoke in unison. “Fulfill your oath of loyalty.”

Trails of glowing smoke drifted into the room like slow-motion comets. Lights blazed to life, swirling between the columns. All around me, the gods materialized.

A swarm of scorpions scuttled across the floor and merged to form the goddess Serqet, who glared at me distrustfully from beneath her scorpion-shaped crown. Babi the baboon god climbed down from the nearest column and bared his fangs. Nekhbet the vulture goddess perched on the prow of the sun boat. Shu the wind god blew in as a dust devil, then took the appearance of a World War II pilot, his body created entirely from dust, leaves, and scraps of paper.

There were dozens more: the moon god Khonsu in his silver suit; the sky goddess Nut, her galactic blue skin glimmering with stars; Hapi the hippie with his green fish-scale skirt and his crazy smile; and a severe-looking woman in camouflage hunting clothes, a bow at her side, grease paint on her face, and two ridiculous palm fronds sticking out of her hair—Neith, I assumed.

I’d hoped for more friendly faces, but I knew Osiris couldn’t leave the Underworld. Thoth was still stuck in his pyramid. And many other gods—probably the ones most likely to help me—were also under siege from the forces of Chaos. We’d have to make do.

I faced the assembled gods and hoped my legs weren’t shaking too badly. I still felt like Carter Kane, but I knew that when they looked at me, they were seeing Horus the Avenger.

I brandished the crook and flail. “These are the symbols of the pharaoh, given to me by Ra himself. He has named me your leader. Even now, he is facing Apophis. We must join the battle. Follow me and do your duty.”

Serqet hissed. “We only follow the strong. Are you strong?”

I moved with lightning speed. I lashed the flail across the goddess, cutting her into a flaming pile of baked scorpions.

A few live critters scuttled out of the wreckage. They moved to a safe distance and began to re-form, until the goddess was whole again, cowering behind a brazier of blue flames.

The vulture goddess Nekhbet cackled. “He is strong.”

“Then come,” I said.

My
ba
returned to earth. I opened my eyes.

Above Khafre’s pyramid, storm clouds gathered. With a clap of thunder they parted, and the gods charged into battle—some riding war chariots, some in floating warships, some on the backs of giant falcons. The baboon god Babi landed atop the Great Pyramid. He pounded his chest and howled.

I turned to Sadie. “How’s that for a signal?”

We clambered down the pyramid to join the fight.

First tip on fighting a giant Chaos serpent: Don’t.

Even with a squadron of gods and magicians at your back, it’s not a battle you’re likely to win. I got clued in to this as we charged closer and the world seemed to fracture. I realized Apophis wasn’t just coiling in and out of the desert, wrapping himself around the pyramids. He was coiling in and out of the Duat, splintering reality into different layers. Trying to find him was like running through a fun house full of mirrors, each mirror leading to another fun house filled with more mirrors.

Our friends began to split up. All around us, gods and magicians became isolated, some sinking deeper into the Duat than others. We fought a single enemy, but we were each fighting only a fragment of his power.

At the base of the pyramid, snaky coils encircled Walt. He tried to force his way out, blasting the serpent with gray light that turned his scales to ashes; but the serpent just regenerated, closing tighter and tighter around Walt. A few hundred feet away, Julian had summoned a full Horus avatar, a giant green hawk-headed warrior with a
khopesh
in either hand. He sliced away at the serpent’s tail—or at least one version of it—while the tail lashed around and tried to impale him. Deeper in the Duat, the goddess Serqet stood in nearly the same place. She had turned herself into a giant black scorpion and was confronting another image of the serpent’s tail, parrying it with her stinger in a bizarre sword fight. Even Amos had been waylaid. He faced the wrong direction (or so it looked to me) and sliced his staff through the empty air, shouting command words at nothing.