Descent of the Soul Destroyer

by Dan Hunter

  Oba stared in absolute and sheer horror. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no.”

  He got down from the throne.

  And he began to run.

  “Not this time, Oba,” Akori said. “Ebe, stop him!”

  Ebe sprinted after the fleeing demon-boy, pounced and dragged him down to the floor.

  “No!” Oba screamed, struggling to pull himself out of Ebe’s grasp. “You have no right!” His face lit up with hope. “The Underworld has rules, rules you must obey.”

  “What do you mean?” Akori frowned.

  “This hall is for judging the dead. I’m not dead, I’m alive! So you can’t judge me. Ha ha ha!”

  “Akori is alive, too, Oba,” Ammit said. “And yet, you judged him. As you said, the Underworld has rules – and you BROKE those rules!”

  Oba’s face crumpled again as he realized his hope was false. “Mercy,” he begged. “You’ll let me go. I know you will.”

  “It is not up to me,” said Akori solemnly. “I do not make the decisions in the Underworld. In Osiris’s absence, it is up to Ammit to weigh your soul.”

  Ammit lifted the struggling Oba by one ankle. He didn’t stop screaming. Ebe shrank back to her tiny cat form and lay on the ground, exhausted.

  Manu, by now almost fully recovered, sat up and frowned. “You’re giving him a chance?” he asked Akori. “Why not just tell her to devour him?”

  “Everyone deserves justice,” replied Akori. “Even Oba.”

  “This soul,” Ammit said at length, “is heavy. Evil deeds weigh it down like iron chains. I have never known a soul as laden with sin as this.”

  “No,” blubbered Oba as he flailed about upside down. “Please…”

  Ammit tossed him into the air. As he fell, she opened her jaws wide and devoured Oba whole.

  Akori felt a little sickened, but it was the justice of the Gods. Oba was finally gone. Never again would his evil stain the earth.

  “Now you must hurry, Pharaoh,” said Ammit. “Past the doors ahead lies a staircase, running deep below the Hall of Judgement. At the very bottom is the cell where Osiris is imprisoned. His life force is almost spent.”

  “But Osiris is a God!” Akori said. “Surely his life force is never-ending.”

  Ammit shook her huge head sorrowfully. “Set fears he is about to lose. He cannot risk you freeing Osiris. And so, though it has drained his own power greatly, he has begun a final terrible spell. Osiris is being destroyed.”

  Manu turned pale. “If Osiris is destroyed, Set will rule for ever. We have to stop him.”

  “But if Set has drained his power casting this spell, he’ll be weakened!” Akori clenched his fists. “Manu, I’ve got a plan. It might be the craziest thing I’ve ever thought of, but we’ve got to try it.”

  Akori explained his plan, but instead of looking pleased, the young priest was horrified. Ebe mewed plaintively.

  “I hate it, Akori,” protested Manu. “After everything you’ve been through; all the battles, all the quests…how could you even think of doing this?”

  “Because we have no other choice,” Akori said simply.

  “But you’ll die!”

  Akori shrugged. “At least I know I’ve got a well-made coffin to look forward to. I’ve seen it enough times.”

  “Always joking.” Manu gave Akori a sad smile, before pulling him into a brisk hug. “Let’s get on with it, then. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it fast.”

  Once everything was in place, the three friends descended the staircase together. It stretched down into tar-smelling darkness. The few torches that lit their way gave off a stinking black smoke, so it was like groping their way through fog. Akori smelled the foul odour of wild pigs, and knew Set was near. He’d smelled that stench before, when Set had almost destroyed him.

  At the bottom was a vast, vaulted chamber. Dozens of thick iron chains hung down from the wooden beams in the ceiling.

  Osiris lay on the floor, bound in mummy wrappings, in the centre of a circle scrawled in a sinister red substance. Hieroglyphic designs surrounded him and a ring of lamps bathed him in sickly light. His face looked shrunken, as if it were collapsing from within like a melting wax figurine.

  Manu ran into the room and kneeled by Osiris’s side. “He’s barely alive!”

  Akori was shocked and terrified to see Osiris so broken. But he knew he must not panic, and instead, put his faith in Manu to do as they had agreed. Akori had to put all his energies into fighting Set.

  “I know you’re here, Evil One!” Akori shouted. “Show yourself!”

  Smoke rushed into the room, swirling into a tornado-like column. Two red eyes glared out of it, staring at Akori with unspeakable hate. A dark body formed, the muscular physique of a giant with the head of a wild beast. Set, Lord of Storms, the God of Evil.

  “You are too late, little Pharaoh,” Set said. “Say a funeral prayer for your beloved God. There is nothing you can do to save him.”

  “I’ll strike you down,” Akori warned. “Then we’ll see!”

  “Try then, whelp! Let’s see how well you fare against the Lord of Storms!”

  Akori held his khopesh up, ready to charge. “Ebe! Attack!”

  Ebe yowled, arched her back – and nothing happened.

  “Ebe?”

  She looked up at Akori, her little feline face totally helpless.

  Akori felt as if the ground was about to swallow him up. Ebe was unable to change into Goddess form! Carrying them from the market, fighting the masked mummies, battling Ammit…she must have used up too much of her power already.

  Set threw back his head and laughed in cruel delight. “So, it seems you will be facing me alone, boy!”

  “You may wear the Pharaoh Stones under that cloak of yours,” Set said, “but even their power will not enable you to defeat me.” He drew his two khopesh swords. “You will remain in the Underworld for—”

  Akori did not wait for Set to finish his boasting before he attacked. Hurriedly, Set brought his swords up to form a cross and only just blocked Akori’s opening blow, a powerful two-handed slash from above.

  Akori recovered, aimed a feint at Set’s face and scythed his sword across Set’s waist when the God went to parry. The sword gashed Set’s muscular stomach, making him bellow in shock.

  “I’m sorry,” Akori mocked, “weren’t you ready yet?”

  Set angrily swung at Akori with one blade and the next, striking high and low. Akori couldn’t block both blades at once. Instead he simply launched into a forward roll between the slashing swords, past Set’s huge body, and tumbled back onto his feet. Then he spun around and delivered a quick blow to Set’s exposed back.

  “A bold move!” Set growled, moving to face him again. “Let’s see how you handle this!”

  Half a dozen of the iron chains hanging from the ceiling sprang into life, lunging at Akori like striking serpents. One of them caught him across the face before he could get out of the way. It left a deep, stinging cut.

  Akori severed the chain with one blow. It fell to the ground in a rattling heap. The others hung close by, wavering in the air like tentacles. A few swift blows with the magical golden khopesh chopped them down as if they were reeds.

  Set snapped his fingers, ending the spell. “Hmm, swift and strong. You’ve grown up, farm boy.”

  “The power of the Pharaoh Stones runs in my blood,” Akori said. It was true, he knew – the magic of the Stones was part of him now.

  “Then that blood must be spilled!” roared Set. He ran in close. His immense arms windmilled, bringing the blades down one after the other with brutal force.

  Akori could only fall back before the power of his attack, dodging and blocking where he could. Every time he repelled one of Set’s blows, a ringing shock went up his arm, numbing his fingers.

  He quickly glanced over at Manu. The priest was tending to Osiris as Ebe kept watch. But Set was too busy battling Akori to spare him any attention. And that was just how Akori wanted it.
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br />   The whirling blades kept coming, pressing Akori back further and further. He had to counter-attack somehow, but there was no let-up in the assault. In desperation he began to back up the stairs, praying he wouldn’t stumble.

  Set grinned, showing yellow razor-sharp teeth.

  Without warning, Akori jumped from the staircase and caught hold of one of the iron chains that dangled from the roof.

  “Get back here!” Set yelled. He flung one of his swords.

  Akori let go of the chain and fell to the floor, hard. The sword missed him, but a searing pain shot up through his leg. He tried to stand, but his ankle gave way under him.

  Set laughed as he realized Akori had twisted his ankle. “No more running,” he said. “I have you now.”

  “Not while I still draw breath!” Akori panted. “Fight me!”

  Set strode up to Akori and rammed his sword at his chest in a killing stroke.

  Akori turned the blow aside. He tried to hack at Set’s weapon arm with a reaching thrust, but fresh agony poured up his leg when he put his weight upon it.

  Set’s next attack smashed the khopesh right out of his hand.

  Akori quickly looked at Manu, who nodded at him as if to confirm something.

  Then, as Set began to laugh in victory, Akori punched him hard in the stomach. He pummelled the God’s rock-hard belly with his fists as if he were a sack of flour.

  “Still…fighting?” Set gasped. With a rattling snort of disbelieving anger, he drew back his sword arm and thrust with the force of a thunderbolt.

  The sword pierced Akori’s golden armour, passing through his body and out of his back. It crunched into the masonry behind him, pinning him to the wall.

  Akori didn’t even feel any pain. He looked down at the enormous sword skewering him to the wall and smiled. Death in the presence of Osiris himself. What Egyptian could hope for a better end?

  “What are you SMILING about?” Set bellowed. “I’ve killed you, you fool!”

  “You’ve lost,” Akori whispered.

  He could feel his life ebbing away with every word. But still, Akori was triumphant. I did it, he thought to himself. I saved my kingdom. Even if Set doesn’t know it yet.

  Set strode forwards. “Lost? How have I lost? Osiris is almost destroyed, you are dying, and I have the Pharaoh Stones back!” He reached up and with both hands, tore Akori’s cloak apart. “Once I pull them out of that armour—”

  He stopped.

  Akori was wearing the golden armour of Montu, but the Pharaoh Stones weren’t there. Set was staring at five empty hollows.

  “I don’t understand!”

  “You always were…stupid,” Akori said hoarsely. “And that’s why you’ve lost.”

  “You fought me WITHOUT the Pharaoh Stones?”

  “Yes,” Akori breathed.

  “But…you fought with such power, such strength!”

  “Their power runs in my blood. I told you. You didn’t listen.”

  Set stepped back, clutching his head in confusion. “But if you haven’t got the Stones, then who has?”

  “The God who was meant to be their guardian all along!” said a rich, deep voice from the darkness. “The rightful ruler of the Underworld!”

  Set spun around.

  Osiris was free.

  He stood, great and powerful, the mummy wrappings coiled at his feet, and Manu by his side. In the ornamental golden collar he wore, the five Pharaoh Stones were shining. The anger on Osiris’s face was rare and terrible. Demons would have fled from it.

  “Akori asked Manu to return the Stones to me, to restore my powers,” Osiris said. “He tricked you into believing he still had them.”

  “He fought you even though he knew he couldn’t win!” Manu said, tears running down his face. “That’s how brave he is.”

  “He’s dead!” Set roared.

  Osiris shook his head. “I am Lord of the Underworld, dark brother, and I have power over life and death!” He raised his ankh, the symbol of life. “Be whole, Akori!”

  The ankh flared briefly with light. Set’s sword fell clattering to the floor.

  Akori stood up, feeling an incredible new strength in his limbs. He walked towards Set, slowly and deliberately. There was no wound on Akori’s face now, nor in his chest. His ankle was healed. He stooped, picked up his khopesh, and kept advancing.

  “I beat you!” Set shrieked. “I killed you! Get away!”

  Akori did no more than gesture with his hand. Set doubled over, gasping as if he had been struck. Another gesture, and Set crashed to the ground. The impact shook the floor and rattled the iron chains.

  As he lay gasping and groaning, Akori raised his sword in a two-handed grip.

  “In the name of Horus the Avenger, I cast you out!” Akori cried.

  Golden radiance poured out of the sword, the colour of Horus’s holy fire. It moved like a living thing, arching across the room and twining around Set like a serpent, burning away his dark power.

  Set let out a terrible howl, as his body began to shrivel and collapse. He became a shrunken, ghostly wraith, a transparent scrap that was barely recognizable as the terrifying God it had once been.

  “Assessors of the Dead!” Osiris called. “I summon you!”

  Forty-two shadowy figures slowly appeared, materializing out of the darkness. They laid hands on the struggling ghost-form of Set. The howling he made was like the squealing of a tiny, trapped animal.

  “Take him to the furthest, bleakest limits of my kingdom, where none shall ever find him,” Osiris commanded. “Imprison him there for a thousand years. Maybe, in time, he shall learn not to challenge the champions of the Gods.”

  Manu ran to Akori and gave him a brotherly hug. “I thought you were dead!”

  “I think I was, just for a moment,” Akori said. “But since Osiris healed me, I’ve never felt so healthy in my life.” A shadow passed across his face. “My Lord,” he said, turning to the great God of the Underworld. “How are my people of Egypt? Are they safe? Please tell me the army has not attacked yet.”

  “Oh no!” said Manu as Akori’s words hit home. “We must get back. I wonder if Aken has recovered from the demon vultures’ attack.”

  Osiris smiled. “No need to worry about that. Now that my strength is restored, I can heal Aken in an instant.” He began to ascend the stairs. “First, however, I have some business to attend to. Would you join me in my Hall of Judgement? You too, dear lady Bast.”

  Ebe purred and ran to join him.

  When they reached the Hall, Osiris frowned a little to see the smashed pillar and the scattered mummy remains. He raised his hand, spoke a word of power that thrummed in the air like a plucked string – and the hall was restored. It shone with the splendour of finely carved marble stone, lit with hundreds of lamps burning with clear light. Ammit bowed her head to see her rightful Lord approach.

  “Hear me, all you legions of the dead!” Osiris proclaimed. “It is I, the true Ruler of the Underworld.”

  His booming voice sung out from the Hall to all the caverns of the Underworld, echoing across deserts and resounding from tombs, ringing from the sky above the market and thundering out from open tunnels.

  Dead soldiers stood still, weapons in their hands. Dead commanders hesitated on the verge of their great attack. Every dead soul in the whole Underworld stopped to listen.

  “The usurper, Set, has fallen,” Osiris declared. “The spells he cast to force you to obey him are broken. To all of you, whatever your misdeeds in life, I say rest. Embrace the peace of the afterlife. By my power, I set you free!”

  Free. The word was whispered by the lips of countless thousands of the dead.

  One by one, they were gradually released from the hold Set once had upon them. They let their weapons fall, dropped their shields, released their scrolls of battle plans. Their bodies dissolved into mist or poured away in dust. Ancient bones, no longer animated, fell with a dry rattle and a sound like sighing.

  With a welcome
sense of peace, Akori could now be sure that Egypt was safe.

  Osiris clapped his hands briskly. There was a sound of wings beating, and one of the vulture-women who had attacked Aken’s barge came swooping into the room. Now she was no longer corrupted, her face was beautiful and calm.

  “Servant of the Goddess Mut, I order you to carry Akori and Manu back to Egypt,” Osiris said. “As for Bast, I would be grateful if she stayed by my side for now. There is much that needs putting right in my realm.”

  Turning to their feline companion, both Akori and Manu each gave Ebe a fond stroke. “I’ll miss you,” Akori whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

  “I’ll never forget you,” Manu murmured.

  Ebe purred, twined around their ankles, then trotted off to join Osiris.

  Akori and Manu climbed onto the back of the vulture. “Thank you, great Osiris,” said Akori, bowing his head.

  “Wait!” Osiris said. “Akori, before you depart, I need you to take a message for me.”

  “Yes?”

  “When you next see my son, Horus, tell him he chose his champion well!”

  Pride and happiness burst inside Akori like a thousand blazing suns, as the vulture woman roared and spread her wings. Akori and Manu clung together as the creature flew out of the hall, and over the stone walkway. Akori’s heart missed a beat as, instead of continuing along its length, they flew over the edge and out into nothingness. The black ocean churned far below them.

  They soared high above the Great Abyss, flying in sweeping spirals that climbed up and up. The vulture woman flew faster and faster, rushing as if she meant to break right through into Egypt. Akori held tight and put his faith in Osiris.

  A dim light appeared in the distance. It wasn’t a torch, or a bonfire, or an oil lamp. It was sunlight, shining in through a cave mouth. Akori whooped in joy as they powered towards it, getting closer and closer.

  Bursting out into that glorious, light-filled sky was like diving into the sun itself. Akori laughed, feeling its warmth on his skin. Beneath, the familiar fields of Egypt spread out as if in welcome, and the Nile gleamed up at him like the smile of a long-lost friend. There in the distance, looking no bigger than a toy, was the palace.