Ren nodded and tried to stay positive. She fell asleep not to images of destruction but to one of her favorite memories: Alex and his mom and Ren and her parents laughing together at a silly inside joke at the last museum holiday party.
But as the night wore on, her dreams turned dark. She dreamed that New York was under siege and would soon fall to The Order. She dreamed that her parents were in danger. It was the worst nightmare of her life.
And it was all true.
Alex rolled over on his small, scratchy rug and groaned. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows. He turned toward his mom’s couch. Empty.
He leapt up immediately, sending gift-shop throw pillows flying. But then he spotted her sitting with Todtman and Hesaan at a table by the wall. They were casually dipping flatbread in a beany paste and talking as they ate. Alex’s mouth watered at the sight of the food, and he went to join them.
Ren was snoring lightly on the floor. Alex tried to be quiet as he passed, but she coughed up her last snore and her eyes popped open. He waited as she got up to join him.
Luke was still asleep in the corner, a small smile on his face hinting at pleasant dreams of athletic conquest. Alex and Ren let him sleep and headed for the table.
“How are you feeling, Mom?” asked Alex. Now that he was standing close enough, he could see that she was holding a plastic bag of ice against her side.
“Good morning, honey,” she said. “I am feeling a little better.” She paused and smiled. “Like I was hit by a car instead of a truck.”
Beside him, Ren nodded solemnly, waited a respectable few seconds, and then dove for the food. “Fuul!” she said, pronouncing it like fuel.
“Fool,” said Hesaan, correcting her pronunciation.
“Yeah, say it right, fool,” said Alex, satisfied that his mom really was feeling better. He picked up a piece of flatbread and dipped it into the dish of stewed fava beans. “What are you guys talking about?” he asked, pulling up a chair.
Todtman shifted over to make space at the table. “We were trying to figure out our mistake,” he said. “You told us you heard the leader say that he would consult the Lost Spells in the seat of power … ”
“And you assumed the seat of power was the old Order headquarters in Cairo,” said Hesaan.
“Yes, but the place was abandoned,” said Todtman, “cleaned out.”
Wait a second, thought Alex. His brain was still foggy with sleep, but he tried to remember. Wasn’t there something about that phrase? Something he hadn’t been sure of? He chewed his food and chased the thought through the morning mist as the adults continued talking.
“Yes, why would they be hiding in a warehouse?” said Hesaan. “They have outgrown that little place now. They have taken over the parliament building, and some others. During the day, they are everywhere in this city.”
“Could the seat be the parliament building?” asked Alex’s mom.
“Perhaps,” said Hesaan skeptically. “But even as arrogant as they are, I would be surprised if they kept something so powerful in such a busy and accessible place. With their international provocations, there is constant talk that the other countries will bomb the place.”
“Why don’t they?” said Alex.
“They say the leader controls their minds, as needed, and stills their hands. They say that the man has grown immensely powerful.”
Hesaan flicked a look over at Alex’s mom as he spoke, and Alex wondered if Hesaan knew he was talking about her ex-husband.
“It’s true,” said Todtman. “But he is a man no longer.”
Hesaan nodded gravely, seeming to understand.
Alex remembered the sight. The man who had once been his father, and what he had become: a massive Death Walker in a flickering tomb. He remembered the words rumbling out of his broad chest, Alex’s amulet allowing him to understand the ancient dialect — and just like that, the mist lifted. “Wait a second,” he sputtered through a mouthful of bean and bread.
The others turned to look at him. He swallowed his fuul and cleared his throat. “Okay, so, you guys know I don’t speak ancient Egyptian, right? So I have to kind of rely on my amulet for that … ”
“What is it, hun?” asked his mom, but Todtman was already a step ahead.
“What did he say?” asked the German.
“Well, I thought it was the ‘seat of power,’ but as I was saying it, I was kind of also thinking —”
“The seat of the soul?” offered Hesaan.
Alex stared at him. “Yeah, but … how did you know?”
“There is a word for power,” said Hesaan. “An ancient word … ”
“Ba,” said Alex’s mom. “The pharaoh’s power to rule … ”
Todtman’s eyes grew wider, and he stammered excitedly: “Yes, but that word has more than one meaning … ”
“What do you mean? What other meaning?” interrupted Ren. Alex watched her head spin from one scholar to another and knew she hated to be left out of this.
Alex’s mom explained, “Ba can mean the soul, too.”
“Not the seat of power,” said Todtman. “The seat of the soul. That’s where they have taken the Spells.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” said Ren. “I seriously hope you are not going to say —”
But the three scholars said it as one: “To the afterlife.”
“They have taken the Spells to the one place they are sure no one else can reach them,” added Todtman.
“But how is that possible?” said Hesaan, dumbfounded.
Ren looked over at him with a hangdog expression. “Oh, it’s possible, all right,” she said. “It’s just not any fun.”
Hesaan looked at her incredulously. “You have been there?”
“We both have,” said Alex, remembering their sprint through the treacherous, twilight murk of the Egyptian afterlife. It was a spectral shortcut that had taken them thousands of miles in moments. “It’s the amulets that let us do it,” he added, trying to explain the inexplicable. “They allow us to go through the false doors.”
They all sat silently at the little table, thunderstruck by this new revelation. Footsteps approached. Luke plucked a crumbly white block speckled with blue dots from the breakfast tray. “I sure hope this is cheese,” he said, taking a big bite.
“It was cheese a week ago … ” said Hesaan, staring down at the table.
“It is blue cheese now,” said Todtman. “But save some of that for Alex and Ren. They will need their strength today, too.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” said Alex.
“Well, you have been there before,” said Hesaan, eyeing the lump of Alex’s amulet beneath his shirt. “And there are many false doors at this museum.”
Alex had already finished his breakfast, but he swallowed hard, anyway. His mom put her hand on his shoulder, either seeking to reassure him or concerned he would faint.
He was going back to the afterlife.
He looked over at Ren. She looked like she had seen a ghost.
She was certainly about to.
Alex felt like he was being rushed.
And he was. His mom had offered to make the trip in place of him and Ren, but then she’d barely been able to get out of her chair on her own.
“I’ll go with them,” said Luke. “I’ve got one of those gizmos, too.” Calling his ancient cheetah amulet a “gizmo” undercut his credibility, but his next statement was more convincing: “You can’t just send two nerds to the afterlife alone.”
The search party grew to three, and it had been full steam ahead after that.
“You have everything you need now,” said Todtman, handing Alex a worn-out backpack rescued from the museum’s lost and found room and filled with handpicked artifacts.
Alex slipped it on and felt the bow of an ancient wooden carving of a boat jab him in the back. He shrugged his shoulders to shift the little boat over and heard metal clink against metal at the bottom of the pack.
Then the three could avoid it no
longer. They turned to face the false door. It was one of the largest Alex had ever seen, a six-foot-high slab of stone with a rectangular indentation at its center painted a faded red ocher and bordered by raised reliefs of columns. Hieroglyphic writing was carved deep into the ancient stone. It was a symbolic gateway to the afterlife, but in about two steps, it was about to get very real.
Alex pulled the scarab out from under his shirt.
“Be careful, Alex,” said his mom. Alex heard something different in her voice, not a torn raspiness but a quiver of deep concern that sounded almost as painful. “You too, Ren … And even you, Luke. If you are in danger, come back.”
Todtman listened with a just-sucked-lemon look on his face that seemed to say: Come back? They haven’t even left yet! His actual words were only slightly more diplomatic:
“Yes, be careful, of course — but do not waste time! The world of the living and the world of the dead are very close now. We have seen it ourselves: mummies by the thousands, spirits in the streets. The boundaries are falling, and The Order is getting stronger. Look for signs of The Order when you cross over. Even in the afterlife, they will guard their prize closely. Use your amulets to guide you, if you can. We must find the Lost Spells and repair the damage they’re done to our world.”
Alex looked away. Todtman could say “we” until he was blue in his froggy face, but he wasn’t going. He was staying back: Mission Control to their moon shot, and reinforcements if necessary. Still, Alex knew he was right. The worlds were closer now. His mom had used the Spells to open a gateway between them, to bring him back. Now The Order was using the Spells to tear down the walls — to use the power of the world of the dead to rule the world of the living. The old legend was coming true. The Final Kingdom was almost here.
Almost.
They still had one last, desperate chance.
Alex took a deep breath and one more look at his mom. He opened and closed his mouth, like a guppy, but he couldn’t even begin to think of what to say. Instead, he just nodded. Reluctantly, she nodded, too. He looked over at Ren and Luke.
“Let’s do this,” he said with as much bravery as he could muster. It wasn’t much.
Luke gave him a sympathetic look. “Nice try, cuz,” he said. “But it goes like this … ” His next words would’ve fit right in in a football huddle: “LET’S DO THIS!”
Alex had to admit, it sounded better coming from him. He was even a little fired up by it. Without another word, Alex wrapped his hand around his scarab and stepped toward solid stone.
Beside him, Ren said two words, very softly: “For home.” Then she stepped forward, too.
Right behind them, Luke said, “It’s go time.”
The next thing Alex heard was a loud POP!
His vision turned red as he passed through the stone, and he closed his eyes instinctively. When he opened them again, he was in a different world. The washed-out electric lighting of the museum was replaced by a warm amber glow. All around him, deeper veins of red and orange and yellow pooled in the air, coming together and hinting at shapes only to pull apart and drain away. Alex looked down at his feet and saw what appeared to be a well-worn dirt path. He looked back over his shoulder and saw a transparent rose-pink rectangle shimmering in the air: the false door, as seen from the other side. Next to it, Ren and Luke stood washed in the yellow-orange light and blinking incredulously.
“Are you okay?” called Alex over the low, steady hum that seemed to surround them.
All three of them clutched their amulets tightly, like lifelines, but Luke gave him a thumbs-up with his free hand, and Ren called back: “I think so. It’s not as scary this time.”
Alex nodded. The last time they had traveled through the afterlife, it had been a darker and more frightening place. But now, high above, a fiery object was making slow progress across the golden sky. “It’s daytime now,” he said.
Luke looked up, shielded his eyes, and said, “The sun is all jacked up.”
It was true. It was hard to see through its blazing glow, but the object above them wasn’t round. If anything, it looked kind of like a boat. Alex was amazed to realize that it was a boat. As many pictures and carvings as he’d seen of it, his next words sounded crazy, even to him: “It’s the sun barque of Amun-Re.”
“The sun god?” stammered Ren.
Alex could see the idea ricocheting around Ren’s orderly mind. He seriously hoped she wouldn’t lose it. Instead, she closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and opened them. “Okay, whatever,” she said. “Let’s just get going.”
Alex inhaled the fragrant air, clamped down a little tighter on his scarab, and closed his eyes.
It was the biggest test of his life, and it had only one question.
Could he feel it?
The scarab could detect the undead and the death magic that created them. It had a strong connection to the Spells, and so did Alex. In Minyahur, the small desert village where his mom had hidden out, studying the Spells, the scarab had nearly burned his hand off when the Spells were close by. And he’d passed out the first time he’d seen them up close. Using the amulet to detect death magic here seemed like a good way to get his hand burned off — this was the world of the dead!
But as his eyes closed and his senses stretched out, all he felt — heard, really — was the same buzzing hum getting louder. That’s what it was, he realized: the strong, steady signal of the afterlife all around. It was the energy of this strange place, and he didn’t need his amulet to hear it.
He relaxed a little more and breathed.
As he relaxed, his senses opened further, and then he did sense something. It wasn’t a shape or an image as much as a feeling, an almost magnetic pull. The amulet began to heat up in his hand.
He shuffled his feet slightly, turned his shoulders, and then raised his hand.
“The Spells are in that direction,” he said. “Somewhere over there.”
“Are you sure?” said Ren.
Alex nodded. “I feel a really strong signal. It’s almost … pulling me there.”
He opened his eyes and looked down the length of his arm as if it were the barrel of a gun. He stared into the distance. The air was thick and smelled of earth and water. It still swirled with warm colors and phantom shapes, but the shifting patterns decorated the view more than they obscured it. He could see fields extending outward in every direction, tall stalks of wheat and barley swaying in the wind, washed in golden light. Off in the distance, there were figures moving among the rows of shifting grain, and Alex recognized the timeless, repetitive motions of farmers working the land.
And directly in front of his outstretched arm, past acres of golden fields, was the glittering blue-green band of a river.
The Nile.
As otherworldly as it all seemed, it still made sense to him. The ancient Egyptians believed the dead crossed the Nile on the first leg of their journey into the afterlife. Back at the museum, they’d prepared for the possibility that they might have to do it themselves.
“So, let me get this straight,” said Luke, staring in the direction Alex had pointed. “We’re in the land of death, or whatever; there are dudes in these fields, dead dudes; something is trying to pull you across a river … and you want to go?” He lifted his chin toward the riverbank. “You can’t even see what’s on the other side.”
Alex lifted his gaze. The land beyond the winding waterway was obscured by a heavy, fog-like haze. The kingdom of the dead was holding its secrets close.
“We have to,” said Alex, trying to sound calmer and more confident than he felt. “I think that’s where the Spells are.”
Luke considered it for a moment and then shrugged. “You’re gonna get us killed,” he said. “But at least we’re in the right place for it.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Ren said, eyeing the fieldworkers swaying in the distance. “The faster we find them, the better.”
The three friends set off cautiously down the path, the dirt under thei
r feet as black as charcoal. Alex ventured one last look over his shoulder at the fiery vessel inching across the morning sky. He felt its heat on the back of his neck, and when he looked down, he saw his shadow stretching out before him.
They would travel to the west, where the sun died each day.
They stayed on the path as it cut through a field of waist-high barley. With one hand still wrapped around his scarab, Alex reached out with the other and brushed the top of the nearest stalks. All around them, the light continued to shift and swirl, shapes and colors ornamenting the heavy air. He saw rosy red light pooling in the air ten feet in front of him, forming a perfect circle, like the pupil of an eye. It drained away a moment later, leaving nothing but the vague sensation of being watched.
As his ears adjusted to the steady hum all around, he heard other sounds rise up. Some were faint: airy exhalations that might have been the wind, but sounded more like an old man breathing his last gasp; distant roars that might have been thunder, had the golden sky not been cloudless. Others were louder: A chorus of wailing voices rose up off to their left. Alex whipped his head around, but all he saw was shifting grain.
“Did you guys hear that?” he said, but the voices had already stopped.
“I heard it,” said Ren.
Both of them turned to Luke, who shrugged. “I thought it was you two.”
Alex turned back toward the fields. Whether or not his ears were playing tricks on him, his eyes were telling a very clear story. The figures working the fields were closer now, the nearest no more than twenty yards away. Their broad backs were slightly stooped and their strong shoulders swung from side to side. Alex couldn’t see the blades of the scythes they were carrying, but he knew they were harvesting the grain. Golden stalks disappeared with each swing.
Shesh shesh shesh went the blades.
“Are they dangerous?” asked Ren, walking a little closer.
Alex shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. The figures hadn’t so much as glanced in their direction.
The Final Kingdom Page 7