The Serpent's Shadow

“Wake up, kid!” Bes waddled up to me and kicked me in the kneecap, which was as high as he could reach.

“Ow!” I protested.

“You’re the leader now,” he growled. “So you’d better have a plan. I didn’t come back to life to get killed again!”

Apophis hissed. The ground continued to crack, shaking the foundations of the pyramids. The air was so cold, my breath turned to mist.

“Too late, poor children.” The serpent’s red eyes stared down at me. “Ma’at has been dying for centuries. Your world was only a temporary speck in the Sea of Chaos. All that you built meant nothing. I am your past and your future! Bow to me now, Carter Kane, and perhaps I will spare you and your sister. I will enjoy having survivors to witness my triumph. Is that not preferable to death?”

My limbs felt heavy. Somewhere inside, I was a scared little boy who wanted to live. I’d lost my parents. I’d been asked to fight a war that was way too big for me. Why should I keep going when it was hopeless? And if I could save Sadie…

Then I focused on the serpent’s throat. The glow of the swallowed sun god sank lower and lower into Apophis’s gullet. Zia had given her life to protect us.

Never fear, she’d said. I will hold Apophis until you come.

Anger cleared my thoughts. Apophis was trying to sway me, the way he’d corrupted Vlad Menshikov, Kwai, Sarah Jacobi, and even Set, the god of evil himself. Apophis was the master of eroding reason and order, of destroying everything that was good and admirable. He was selfish, and he wanted me to be selfish as well.

I remembered the white obelisk rising from the Sea of Chaos. It had stood for thousands of years, against all odds. It represented courage and civilization, making the right choice instead of the easy choice. If I failed today, that obelisk would finally crumble. Everything humans had built since the first pyramids of Egypt would be for nothing.

“Sadie,” I said, “you have the shadow?”

She got to her feet, her shocked expression turning to rage. “I thought you’d never ask.”

From her bag she produced the granite figurine, now midnight black with the shadow of Apophis.

The serpent recoiled, hissing. I thought I detected fear in his eyes.

“Don’t be foolish,” Apophis snarled. “That ridiculous spell will not work—not now, when I am triumphant! Besides, you are too weak. You would never survive the attempt.”

Like all effective threats, it had the ring of truth. My magic reserves were nearly tapped out. Sadie’s couldn’t be much better. Even if the gods helped, we would likely burn ourselves up casting an execration.

“Ready?” Sadie asked me, her tone defiant.

“Attempt it,” Apophis warned, “and I will raise your souls from Chaos again and again, just so I can kill you slowly. I will do the same for your father and mother. You will know an eternity of pain.”

I felt like I’d swallowed one of Ra’s fireballs. My fists clenched around the crook and flail, despite the throbbing pain in my hand. The power of Horus surged back into me—and once again we were in absolute agreement. I was his Eye. I was the Avenger.

“Mistake,” I told the serpent. “You should never threaten my family.”

I threw the crook and flail. They smashed into Apophis’s face and erupted in a column of fire like a nuclear blast.

The serpent howled in pain, engulfed in flames and smoke; but I suspected I’d only bought us a few seconds.

“Sadie,” I said, “are you ready?”

She nodded and offered me the figurine. Together, we held it and prepared for what might be the last spell of our lives. There was no need to consult a scroll. We’d been practicing for this execration for months. We both knew the words by heart. The only question was whether the shadow would make the difference. Once we started, there would be no stopping. And whether we failed or succeeded, we would probably burn up.

“Bes and Bast,” I said, “can you two keep Apophis away from us?”

Bast smiled and hefted her knives. “Protect my kittens? You don’t even need to ask.” She glanced at Bes. “And in case we die, I’m sorry about all the times I toyed with your emotions. You deserved better.”

Bes snorted. “That’s okay. I finally came to my senses and found the right girl. Besides, you’re a cat. It’s your nature to think you’re the center of the universe.”

She stared at him blankly. “But I am the center of the universe.”

Bes laughed. “Good luck, kids. Time to bring on the ugly.”

“DEATH!” Apophis screamed, emerging from the column of fire with his eyes blazing.

Bast and Bes—the two greatest friends and protectors we’d ever had—charged to meet Apophis.

Sadie and I began the spell.

C A R T E R

20. I Take a Chair

LIKE I SAID, I’M NOT GOOD WITH INCANTATIONS.

Doing one right requires unbroken concentration, correct pronunciation, and perfect timing. Otherwise you’re liable to destroy yourself and everyone within ten feet, or turn yourself into some form of marsupial.

Trying to cast a spell with someone else—that’s doubly hard.

Sure, Sadie and I had studied the words, but it’s not like we could actually do the execration in advance. With a spell like that, you only get one shot.

As we began, I was aware of Bast and Bes battling the serpent, and our other allies locked in combat at different levels of the Duat. The temperature kept dropping. Crevices widened in the ground. Red lightning spread across the sky like cracks in a black dome.

It was hard to keep my teeth from chattering. I concentrated on the stone figurine of Apophis. As we chanted, the statue began to smoke.

I tried not to think about the last time I’d heard this incantation. Michel Desjardins had died casting it, and he had faced only a partial manifestation of the serpent, not Apophis at his full power after triumphantly devouring Ra.

Focus, Horus told me.

Easy for him to say. The noise, cold, and explosions around us made it almost impossible—like trying to count backward from a hundred while people scream random numbers in your ears.

Bast was thrown over our heads and landed against a stone block. Bes roared in anger. He slammed his club into the snake’s neck so hard, Apophis’s eyes rattled in his head.

Apophis snapped at Bes, who grabbed one fang and hung on for dear life as the serpent raised his head and shook his mouth, trying to dislodge the dwarf god.

Sadie and I continued to chant. The serpent’s shadow steamed as the figurine heated up. Gold and blue light swirled around us as Isis and Horus did their best to shield us. Sweat stung my eyes. Despite the frosty air, I began to feel feverish.

When we came to the most important part of the spell—the naming of the enemy—I finally began to sense the true nature of the serpent’s shadow. Funny how that works: sometimes you don’t really understand something until you destroy it. The sheut was more than just a copy or a reflection, more than a “backup disk” for the soul.

A person’s shadow stood for his legacy, his impact on the world. Some people cast hardly any shadow at all. Some cast long, deep shadows that endured for centuries. I thought about what the ghost Setne had said—how he and I had each grown up in the shadow of a famous father. I realized now that he hadn’t just meant it as a figure of