The Serpent's Shadow

shoulders.

“I have other orders,” he hummed. “Orders to kill!”

He charged like a bull. After the mess we’d just been through in the serapeum, a bull was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

I thrust out my fist. “Ha-wi!”

The hieroglyph for Strike glowed between us:

A blue fist of energy slammed into Bloodstained Blade, pushing him out the door and straight through the wall of the opposite stateroom. A hit like that would have knocked out a human, but I could hear BSB digging out from the rubble, humming angrily.

I tried to think. It would’ve been nice to keep smashing him with that hieroglyph over and over, but magic doesn’t work that way. Once spoken, a divine word can’t be used again for several minutes, sometimes even hours.

Besides, divine words are top-of-the-line magic. Some magicians spend years mastering a single hieroglyph. I’d learned the hard way that saying too many will burn through your energy really fast, and I didn’t have much to spare.

First problem: keep the demon away from Zia. She was still half-conscious and totally defenseless. I summoned as much magic as I could and said: “N’dah!”—Protect.

Blue light shimmered around her. I had a horrible flashback to when I found Zia in her watery tomb last spring. If she woke up encased in blue energy and thought she was imprisoned again…

“Oh, Zia,” I said, “I didn’t mean—”

“KILL!” Bloodstained Blade rose from the wreckage of the opposite room. A feather pillow was impaled on his head, raining goose fluff all over his uniform.

I dashed into the hall and headed for the stairs, glancing back to be sure the captain was following me and not going after Zia. Lucky me—he was right on my tail.

I reached the deck and yelled, “Setne!”

The ghost was nowhere to be seen. The crew lights were going crazy, buzzing around frantically, bonking into walls, looping around the smokestacks, lowering and raising the gangplank for no apparent reason. I guess without Bloodstained Blade to give them directions, they were lost.

The riverboat careened down the River of Night, weaving drunkenly in the current. We slipped between two jagged rocks that would have pulverized the hull, then dropped over a cataract with a jaw-rattling thunk. I glanced up at the wheelhouse and saw no one steering. It was a miracle that we hadn’t crashed already. I had to get the boat under control.

I ran for the stairs.

When I was halfway there, Bloodstained Blade appeared out of nowhere. He sliced his head across my gut, ripping open my shirt. If I’d had a larger belly—no, I don’t want to think about it. I stumbled backward, pressing my hand against my navel. He’d only grazed the skin, but the sight of blood on my fingers made me feel faint.

Some warrior, I scolded myself.

Fortunately, Bloodstained Blade had embedded his ax head in the wall. He was still trying to tug it free, grumbling, “New orders: Kill Carter Kane. Take him to the Land of Demons. Make sure it’s a one-way trip.”

The Land of Demons?

I bolted up the stairs and into the wheelhouse.

All around the boat, the river churned into whitewater rapids. A pillar of stone loomed out of the fog and scraped against our starboard side, ripping off part of the railing. We twisted sideways and picked up speed. Somewhere ahead of us, I heard the roar of millions of tons of water cascading into oblivion. We were rushing toward a waterfall.

I looked around desperately for the shore. It was hard to see through the thick fog and gloomy gray light of the Duat, but a hundred yards or so off the bow, I thought I saw fires burning, and a dark line that might’ve been a beach.

The Land of Demons sounded bad, but not as bad as dropping off a waterfall and getting smashed to pieces. I ripped the cord off the alarm bell and lashed the pilot’s wheel in place, pointing us toward the shore.

“Kill Kane!”

The captain’s well-polished boot slammed me in the ribs and sent me straight through the port window. Glass shattered, raking my back and legs. I bounced off a hot smokestack and landed hard on the deck.

My vision blurred. The cut across my stomach stung. My legs felt like they’d been used for a tiger’s chew toy, and judging from the hot pain in my side, I may have broken some ribs in the fall.

All in all, not my best combat experience.

Hello? Horus spoke in my mind. Any intention of calling for help, or are you happy to die on your own?

Yeah, I snapped back at him. The sarcasm is real helpful.

Truthfully, I didn’t think I had enough energy left to summon my avatar, even with Horus’s help. My fight with the Apis Bull had nearly tapped me out, and that was before I got chased by an ax demon and kicked out a window.

I could hear Bloodstained Blade stomping his way back down the stairs. I tried to rise, and almost blacked out from the pain.

A weapon, I told Horus. I need a weapon.

I reached into the Duat and pulled out an ostrich feather.

“Really?” I yelled.

Horus didn’t answer.

Meanwhile the crew lights zipped around in a panic as the boat barreled toward the shore. The beach was easier to see now—black sand littered with bones and plumes of volcanic gas shooting from fiery crevices. Oh, good. Just the sort of place I wanted to crash land.

I dropped the ostrich feather and reached into the Duat again.

This time I pulled out a pair of familiar weapons—the crook and flail, symbols of the pharaoh. The crook was a gold-and-red shepherd’s rod with a curved end. The flail was a pole arm with three wicked-looking spiked chains. I’d seen lots of similar weapons. Every pharaoh had a set. But these looked disturbingly like the original pair—the weapons of the sun god that I’d found last spring buried in Zia’s tomb.

“What are these doing here?” I demanded. “These should be with Ra.”

Horus remained silent. I got the feeling he was as surprised as I was.

Bloodstained Blade stormed around the side of the wheelhouse. His uniform was ripped and covered in feathers. His blades had some new nicks, and he’d gotten the emergency bell wrapped around his left boot so it clanged as he walked. But he still looked better than me.

“Enough,” he hummed. “I have served the Kanes too long!”

Toward the bow of the ship, I heard the crank, crank, crank of the gangplank lowering. I glanced over and saw Setne strolling calmly across as the river churned beneath him. He stopped at the edge of the plank and waited as the boat raced toward the black sand beach. He was preparing to jump to safety. And tucked under his arm was a large papyrus scroll—the Book of Thoth.

“Setne!” I screamed.

He turned and waved, smiling pleasantly. “It’ll be fine, Carter! I’ll be right back!”

“Tas!” I yelled.

Instantly the Ribbons of Hathor encased him, scroll and all, and Setne pitched overboard into the water.

I hadn’t planned on that, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. Bloodstained Blade charged, his left foot going clump, BONG!, clump, BONG! I rolled sideways as his ax head cut the floor, but he recovered more quickly than I could. My ribs felt like they’d been dipped in acid. My arm was too weak to lift Ra’s flail. I raised the crook for defense, but I had no idea how to use it.

Bloodstained Blade loomed over me, humming with evil glee. I knew I couldn’t evade another attack. I was