Descent of the Soul Destroyer

by Dan Hunter

  With thanks to Adrian Bott

  First published in the UK in 2013 by Usborne Publishing Ltd., Usborne House, 83-85 Saffron Hill, London EC1N 8RT, England. www.usborne.com

  Text copyright © Hothouse Fiction, 2013

  Illustrations copyright © Usborne Publishing Ltd., 2013

  Cover and inside illustrations by Jerry Paris. Coffin illustration by David Shephard. Map by Ian McNee.

  With thanks to Anne Millard for historical consultancy.

  The name Usborne and the devices are Trade Marks of Usborne Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or used in any way except as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or loaned or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Epub ISBN 9781409568650

  Batch no 02930-02

  British Museum endorsement

  Copyright

  The Sacred Coffin Text of Pharaoh Akori

  Map of Akori’s journey through the Underworld

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Collect all of Akori’s quests

  Quest of the Gods website info

  Collect the cards and play the games

  The demon-boy, Oba, looked down from the highest tower of his palace in the Underworld. Behind him stood Set, the God of Darkness, whose infernal power had brought Oba back from the brink of death. Oba was dressed in gleaming black armour forged in the deepest pits of his monstrous kingdom. Over his shoulder hung a bow and arrows tipped with cruel, poisoned barbs, like the stings of scorpions. He was ready for war.

  Below, his army was gathering. It was so huge it stretched as far as the eye could see, like a nightmarish forest. The soldiers stood clustered so thickly that Oba couldn’t see a single scrap of the blood-red earth beneath them.

  But they only looked like soldiers from a distance. Up close, their true horror could be clearly seen. For they were dead, every one. Some were grey-fleshed zombies, some were mummies wrapped in yellowed bandages and some were jawless skeletons held together only by the armour they wore. An elite few – sinuous demon slaves, their mouths drooling with hunger – were riding in war chariots drawn by the skeletal remains of horses.

  Many of the warriors already bore the marks of deadly wounds, and yet they still stood ready to fight. Their injuries from the living world meant nothing to them now. The soldiers of Egypt would not stand a chance against an enemy who had no fear of death.

  “I tell you, we must launch the attack immediately!” Oba insisted. “We cannot wait for Akori to re-enter the Underworld. I have a plan—”

  “Another plan, Oba?” rumbled Set. “And what would that be? Will you set Baal, Lord of Thunder against Akori? Or Sokar, Guardian of Tombs, or the Baboon God, Babi? Have you forgotten how he defeated them already?”

  Oba frowned. “I mean to send our entire army against him! We’ve wasted enough time. Give the order. We shall march today!”

  “Do not presume to order me, boy,” Set growled menacingly. “Have you forgotten whose power will stand behind your throne when you are victorious?”

  When Oba replied it was with more respect, although frustration simmered through every word. “Dark Lord, I beg you. Our army is ready. Just look at it! We are strong enough to invade Egypt. Let me attack Akori’s palace and claim it for myself.”

  Set’s eyes glinted red. “And what makes you think Akori will sit meekly on his throne and wait for you to invade his kingdom? He already has four of the Pharaoh Stones. We can be sure he will return to the Underworld to seek the fifth and free my brother Osiris. If we invade too soon and are not here to stop him, he may even succeed. Then our powers over the dead will be destroyed, and we will have no army.”

  Oba shook his head. “But if we invade Egypt now, I will find him and kill him and he will never set foot in the Underworld again.”

  Set slammed his huge fist against the wall, causing the whole tower to shudder. “Just like all the other times you planned to kill him?” he roared. “No! We shall remain here in the Underworld. When he arrives in search of the final Pharaoh Stone, we will be ready for him.”

  “But…my throne—” Oba groaned.

  “Be quiet,” Set growled. “Do not doubt me. Do as I say and we will defeat that common farm boy once and for all. Then my reign of terror can finally begin.”

  “So what is your plan, Lord?” Oba snivelled, cowering at Set’s outburst.

  “I shall lure Akori deep into the Underworld, far from the reach of his allies,” Set said, an evil smile spreading across his monstrous snout. “As soon as he is within my grasp, I shall use one of my deadliest servants to exact my revenge. After all, no one can defeat Ammit, the Soul Devourer.”

  “Ammit?” Oba said, his dark eyes widening.

  Set nodded.

  Oba gasped. “Forgive me for my previous impatience.” He bowed before Set. “To see Akori meet such a terrible end would be well worth waiting for.”

  Set turned away to the centre of the tower top, where a beacon had been built. With a thunderous roar he breathed twin streams of flame from his nostrils, causing the coals to instantly set alight.

  “Servants,” roared Set to the troops below. “Today I will destroy Akori. Tomorrow, you will destroy Egypt.”

  The army of the dead saw the fire go up from the tower. One by one, they raised their arms in salute, and let out a deathly howl.

  Boom-boom. Boom-boom.

  Akori rolled over in his bed, clutching his blanket to him. His body wanted to wake up, but his mind kept being sucked down into the blackest of nightmares.

  Boom-boom. Boom-boom.

  There came the noise again, like a drumbeat. All around Akori, dark energies swirled, sucking him downwards like a whirlpool. He could feel unseen hands grasping at his body and tearing at his tunic.

  Boom-boom. Boom-boom.

  What was that sound? Akori’s eyes searched the darkness. But the sound was so loud it seemed to be coming from inside his own body. From the depths of his dream, Akori felt someone’s breath, hot and putrid, on the back of his neck.

  “Your heart is mine now!” a voice hissed in his ear.

  And then, with a sickening jolt, Akori realized where the pounding was coming from. It was his heart – beating louder and faster with fear.

  “Noooooow!” the voice howled.

  “No!” Akori yelled, sitting bolt upright on his bed.

  He looked around the room, taking in the welcome glow of the flickering lamp on the wall. It was just a dream, he reassured himself. He was in his bedroom in the palace. Ebe the cat was pacing up and down on the floor beside his bed. Akori felt his heartbeat start to steady.

  “Nooooooow!” the howl came again.

  Akori sighed. He realized it was coming from outside. It had to be the wind. He was just about to open the shutters to check, when there was
a knock on his door.

  “Akori, are you awake?” he heard Manu call.

  “Yes, come in,” Akori replied, getting out of bed.

  Manu hurried into the room, clutching a bundle of scrolls. When Ebe saw him she gave a soft purr and coiled around his legs.

  “Have you heard the wind?” Manu said. “It sounds as if a terrible storm is on its way.”

  “I know. It was so loud it gave me nightmares. Did it wake you too?” Akori asked.

  Manu shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep so I went to the palace library to read some scrolls. But the storm sounds so bad now, I thought I ought to come and warn you.”

  “You thought well,” Akori said, smiling at his friend. “If it gets much louder it will wake the entire palace. I need to be there to reassure my people if there is any damage from the storm. Let’s go to the great hall.”

  As the three friends made their way along the passage to the hall the wind howled again, even louder and more menacing than before.

  “I hope there’s still a city left by the time the sun comes up,” Manu said, nervously. “That wind sounds strong enough to tear the whole place down. Imagine coming out of the palace to see nothing but sand dunes.”

  “We’ll open the palace up to any citizens who’ve lost their homes,” Akori said. “Anyone is welcome to stay under my roof if they’ve lost theirs.”

  When they got to the great hall, the old High Priest was waiting for them with a blanket draped over his shoulders. His aged face was grave. A few servants had gathered at the end of the room, but they weren’t waiting on anyone, nor did anyone ask them to. Everyone was retreating to where the walls were thickest, away from the terrible howling of the wind.

  “Akori,” the old High Priest said, sensing his presence even though he was blind. “I am glad you’re here. Unnatural things are happening tonight. We must pray together, and hope the great Gods can hear us over the sound of this fearful windstorm.”

  Another howl rang out around the palace, as piercing as a vulture’s shriek.

  Akori shuddered. “It sounds like a thousand voices, crying out into the night…” He stopped mid-sentence. Then he grabbed a burning torch, strode over to one of the many shuttered windows and flung it open.

  Manu ran to his side, alarmed. “What are you doing?”

  “Look!” Akori held the torch outside so that Manu could see. The flame didn’t flicker at all, and Akori couldn’t feel a breath of wind on his face. None of the buildings he could see from the window were covered in sand, like they would normally be in a desert storm. In fact, they seemed in perfect condition.

  “The air’s completely still,” Manu said, with a look of dawning horror. “There’s no wind at all.”

  The endless moaning now rose to a crescendo, seeming to rush in on them from everywhere. Akori could even make out individual voices in the morass of noise – screams, groans, roars of rage, sobs of grief.

  Ebe leaped from the old High Priest’s lap onto the table, arched her back and hissed.

  The High Priest stood and raised a shaking hand. “Gods be with us all.”

  “The dead!” Akori gasped. “It must be the dead howling from the Underworld.” Shivers rippling along his spine, he swiftly closed the shutters. Dread rose up within him.

  “They’re closer than ever,” the old High Priest said. “Oba and Set must be preparing their attack on your kingdom.”

  “Then we have to strike first,” Manu said, thumping his fist on the table.

  Akori looked at his friend. Manu might still be a bookworm at heart, but the quests they had travelled on together had toughened him up, and there was real steel in him now.

  “But I only have four of the Pharaoh Stones,” Akori said. “Horus told me I would only be able to defeat them and release Osiris with all five.”

  “You need to seek counsel from Horus,” the old High Priest urged. “Call him from the fire right away. We need his guidance now more than ever.” Though the fire was burning brightly, the old man clutched his blanket closely around him, as if to keep out a deadly chill.

  Akori rushed to the fire, fell to his knees and stretched his hands out towards the flames. “Horus! Mighty Avenger! Your champion calls upon you. Our enemy is close at hand.”

  Instantly the flames shot up in a geyser of living light. As the fire blazed with increasing intensity, the image of Horus began to emerge. The God stepped from the fire, his radiant body shimmering with power and his hawk’s head surrounded with a halo like the sun. He stood before Akori, huge and majestic.

  “You did well to call upon me, my champion,” he said, his voice booming around the hall. “Anubis, Guardian of the Dead, has brought me word of what is happening. The army of the dead is amassing. It won’t be long before they strike.”

  “Do I stay and fight?” Akori asked.

  Horus shook his head. “No. There is no time. Your path, once again, leads to the Underworld. You must find the final Pharaoh Stone!”

  Akori frowned. “But who’s going to protect my people from Oba’s army if I leave?”

  “Akori, your destiny awaits you in the kingdom of the dead – not here,” Horus insisted. “I know your heart yearns to stay and defend your beloved Egypt, but Set and Oba can only be stopped when all of the Pharaoh Stones have been found.”

  Akori bowed his head. “I understand.”

  “The last of the Stones – the Stone of Honour – lies at the very deepest part of the Underworld,” Horus went on. “Travel by Aken’s barge, for that route is the safest and most direct. He will take you to the final gateway at the heart of the Underworld, and the Hall of Judgement.”

  Akori’s heart sank. Travelling with Aken, the ferryman of the dead, would mean journeying all the way to the Valley of the Kings first, as Akori would need to enter his own coffin. Only then would Aken’s barge collect them and take them to the Underworld. It would add hours to their quest, and time was already running out.

  “Can’t we use the entrance through the Dark Pharaoh’s palace? Wouldn’t that be quicker?” Akori asked.

  Horus shook his head. “Without Aken, you would have to make your own way to the heart of the Underworld. Who knows what monsters Oba will have awaiting you. No – it will be safer and quicker to travel by Aken’s barge.” He bent down to look Akori straight in the eye. “When you find the Stone, you will have the power to free my father Osiris. Only then will the dead return to their graves and order be restored to the Underworld. But if you fail, then the dead will overrun the living, and Egypt will be nothing but a mass grave from horizon to horizon.”

  Akori was just about to thank Horus for his wisdom, when one of his servants began to choke and splutter. Akori turned to see what was wrong. The servant’s face was flexing and contorting like a nest of vipers. His eyes bulged and the veins stood out on his bald head. He pointed a finger that quivered like an arrow in a dying man’s chest. When he spoke, the voice that burst from his throat was not human. It was deep and bestial. “Osiris will remain imprisoned for ever!” it rasped.

  The guards ran to seize the servant.

  “Leave him!” Akori ordered.

  “Give up the fight now, fools…or suffer for all eternity,” gurgled the man.

  “He’s possessed,” Manu said. “It’s Set. He’s speaking through him as if he were a puppet.”

  The servant pointed his trembling finger towards the fire. A vision appeared in the flames. It was of Osiris, lying bound in mummy wrappings. His noble face was filled with pain and gashed with wounds. The mighty God struggled, but he was clearly too weak to break free.

  The servant lurched towards Horus. “Behold your father,” he taunted with Set’s voice. “See the fate of the mighty Osiris – the same fate that awaits you.”

  “Be silent, evil one!” Horus bellowed. “By all the powers of light, I cast you out!”

  Horus brandished his ankh, a looped cross – the symbol of life. It shone white hot as if it had been drawn from the forge.
>
  Set gave a long, hoarse laugh from the servant’s mouth, before the man was suddenly thrown backwards against the wall as if by an invisible force.

  The vision faded from the fire. Manu ran to tend to the servant. He was groaning in pain; all the colour drained from his face.

  “Set will pay for this,” Akori said angrily. “I swear it.”

  “You have to hurry,” Horus urged. “Osiris must be freed. Only then will Egypt be safe.”

  “I won’t let you down, My Lord,” Akori promised. “Once I have the last Stone, I will free your father. And then I will stop Set and Oba once and for all.”

  There was no time for lengthy goodbyes. Akori, Manu and Ebe set off for the Valley of the Kings after only the briefest of blessings from the old High Priest. Akori looked over his shoulder at his palace as they left, drawing his cloak around him, his khopesh safe in its hilt. The guards were all at their stations. He silently prayed for their safety, with one hand on his golden armour from Montu, God of War. Just sensing the four powerful Pharaoh Stones beneath his fingers calmed Akori.

  Eventually, they arrived at the Valley. Akori wished there had been some other way to enter the Underworld. The journey there had taken hours already. How long would it be before Oba’s army of the dead attacked Egypt? Horus had assured them that travelling with Aken the ferryman would be the safest and easiest way of reaching the final gateway in the Underworld. Akori knew he must put his faith in the God, but, as he, Manu and Ebe all lay together inside his coffin, he couldn’t help feeling anxious.

  “No matter how many times we do this, I’ll never get used to it,” Manu whispered in the darkness.

  Blue hieroglyphs began to appear in front of them, scratched on the inside of the coffin lid by an invisible hand.

  “Another coffin text,” Akori murmured. The last two times they had journeyed to the Underworld in his coffin, these magical texts had appeared to help them on their quest. Akori hoped this one would provide some clues about where to find the final Pharaoh Stone.

  Together, Akori and Manu began to read the glowing words aloud.