Shadow of the Storm Lord

by Dan Hunter

  They traded furious blows. Every slice and stab that Akori made, the creature knocked aside with its own weapon. When Akori’s attacks began to falter, it fought back with terrible strength. One mighty two-handed stroke nearly took his head off, but he ducked and the blow smashed into the mirrored wall.

  Akori had to finish this somehow. He tried a surprise swipe at the thing’s legs, but his blade just passed through smoky nothingness. To his horror he saw that it had no legs, and was hanging in the air like a spirit. No wonder it had moved so silently. Changing tactics, the creature began to spin the sickle in its hands, whirling it faster and faster. Akori had no choice but to back away from it as it glided towards him. If he approached that spinning blade, he’d be sliced to pieces! The only thing to do was back slowly down the corridor. Making a shrill noise that might have been laughter, the creature advanced on him. Akori retreated a step and suddenly felt a cold, hard surface against his back.

  All too late, he understood why the creature had laughed. It had backed him into a dead end. It was closing in, and there was nowhere left for him to run.

  Cackling in evil glee, the creature craned its head forward. Fire was welling up between its shattered jaws, growing fierce and bright. Akori was sure it was readying a fireball that would blast him to ash. If he attacked now, he’d be burned up in seconds! But there was no cover and nowhere to run.

  Then he remembered his shield’s other powers. When Sekhmet had given it to him, she had said that it wasn’t just for protection against weapons – it was a defence against evil magic, too. It was his only chance. He held the shield before him. “Sekhmet, Queen of Battles, hear me now!” he prayed. “Grant me your protection!”

  The creature’s jaws were opening. Fire danced within, reflected in hundreds of mirrors to either side. Holding his shield high and yelling at the top of his voice, Akori charged. The creature breathed out a tremendous blast of fire. Akori felt the shield thrumming on his arm as it took the full force of the blast.

  A burning gale blew past him. Flames curled around the shield’s rim. He yelled again, fighting to hold the shield steady as the blast threatened to tear it from his hands. For a second he was sure he would lose his grip and the flames would engulf him. But then the shield began to glow with an uncanny blue light. Akori felt the jet of fire slacken, then explode back out of the shield! He peered over the edge. To his amazement, the shield was reflecting the flames back down the corridor. It had to be Sekhmet’s magic!

  The creature was floating in the midst of the corridor, arms spread, staring aghast at the immense wall of fire that rushed back at it. It flung its arms over its face, trying to ward the flames off, but there was no escape.

  A terrible howl rang out as the creature was consumed by its own roaring fire.

  The black robe burned up like a scrap of filthy rag. The bones popped and split like dry sticks in a fire. Screeching, the skull whipped back and forth, the jaw flying loose. Then the screech stopped suddenly as the skull exploded into a thousand flaming fragments. Eventually, the flames died down, leaving a pile of smouldering ashes in the corridor.

  Akori poked the heap of cinders and bone with his khopesh. There was no movement. The ancient nightmare was dead at last. He murmured a prayer of thanks to Sekhmet. If he ever got out of there alive, he would make the biggest offering of fresh fish her temple cats had ever seen. Watching the darkness carefully in case any more underworld demons came surging out of it, he progressed deeper into the labyrinth.

  The mirrored corridors twisted and turned but seemed to lead round in endless circles. In the frenzy of the fight, Akori had lost track of which wall he was touching and couldn’t use Manu’s method any more. Time after time, he found himself back at the heap of smoking remains. He was growing frustrated and desperate. His arm kept tingling, probably from where the creature’s fire had singed him, and he rubbed it in irritation. Where was the dungeon? It had to be at the heart of this endless maze. But there was no clue anywhere to be seen. All the mirrored panels looked the same.

  Akori sank against the wall and closed his eyes, exhausted. If only Horus could somehow send him a sign. He was so close, and the maddening tingle in his arm just wouldn’t stop.

  Akori opened his eyes and stared at his arm. Of course – how had he not understood before? His arm wasn’t tingling from the flames. It was his birthmark! He and Horus were connected, and the falcon-shaped birthmark was the key. It must be reacting to the God’s presence. The closer he came to Horus, the stronger the feeling became!

  Akori moved down the corridor, feeling the tingle grow stronger. It was leading him to Horus, as surely as a compass points north. Halfway along the corridor, his arm suddenly felt as if it were on fire. He stopped. The entrance to the dungeon had to be right in front of him, but there was nothing to be seen except identical mirrored panels. For a moment he wondered if he’d imagined the telltale tingling. Was it all a trick? No. Horus had to be here.

  Akori pushed the panel in front of him, and it slid inwards slightly. It was a concealed door! Stone steps led downwards – he had found the entrance to the dungeon at last. He descended, shield and sword at the ready. From up ahead came a faint light.

  The dungeon was a circular room like the bottom of a huge well. There were no torches. The light was shining from the sprawled figure of Horus, who lay spreadeagled on the stone floor. His whole body was glowing dimly, like the last embers of a dying fire. Writhing black energies bound him hand and foot.

  Akori ran to his side, overjoyed to have found his God at last, but dreading that he might be too late.

  Horus’s hawk head lay still, his eyes closed. The demonic bindings had drained him dry and he was unconscious, his life force almost gone. Back in the temple, Akori had yearned to take his sword to those black manacles of energy, but then they had only been a vision. Now they were real, and it was time to fulfil his destiny. He had to free Horus!

  Akori stood by Horus’s huge wrist, where a thick band of pulsing darkness bound him. He raised his khopesh and brought it slashing down. The sword rebounded. The energies beneath writhed like leeches, but seemed as strong and thick as ever.

  “No!” Akori shouted. He hacked again, once, twice, like a butcher chopping at a leg of meat. Every time, the sword bounced off. Unharmed, the energies seethed and circled. Akori struck at Horus’s bonds furiously but he could not harm them at all. He roared in frustration. This was not how it was supposed to be. He was too late after all. They had absorbed too much of Horus’s strength.

  Then an idea began forming in his mind. Maybe he could find a way to restore the God’s strength. He took the scarab pin from his pouch and placed it on Horus’s chest. “Great Anubis, I call on you once more,” he prayed. “Horus himself needs your aid!”

  The scarab sprang to life. It seemed to know exactly what to do, scuttling underneath the closest of the black bonds.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then Horus’s huge limbs began to stir. The scarab scurried across his body, vanishing underneath another bond. Akori watched, holding his breath in his excitement. It was feeding life back into his veins!

  Horus’s eyes flickered open. He looked at Akori, and the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. He tried to lift his arm, but the black energies dragged it back down. They were still too strong. Akori tried to think of a way to weaken them. As they were powers of darkness, maybe he could fight them with light.

  He grabbed the Talisman of Ra and pointed it at the black energies binding Horus’s wrist. “Ra, God of the Sun,” he prayed, “send me your light!”

  A brilliant beam of light shone out of the talisman. It struck the black energies and a sizzling hiss echoed around the dungeon. The energies shrivelled, eaten away by the sunlight like rusty metal dissolving in acid. There was an agonized squeal, high and inhuman, like a wild pig caught in a trap. Using one hand to keep the sunbeam trained on the blackness, Akori drew his khopesh with the other. He struck at the spot where the energy seemed
weakest, and this time there was a violent crunch, as if he were hacking at old blackened wood. He’d hurt it! Encouraged, he struck again, while Horus strained at his bonds, stretching them to breaking point, fighting to be free. Akori gave a yell and struck yet again.

  The bond suddenly broke. Horus sat up with a triumphant roar, his arm free. He tore the remaining energies from his hands and feet, grasping them like handfuls of writhing snakes and hurling them away. Then he stood up, a fierce golden light shining from his eyes. It was matched by the gold glow now radiating from Akori’s birthmark.

  The energies swirled angrily around the room, screeching. Akori remembered what the High Priest had said – they were not just bonds, but demons. They started gathering around him. Akori saw greedy, sucker-like mouths open in their shadowy bodies. He had much less life force than a God. They would take only seconds to drain his life away. He raised the Shield of Sekhmet just as the first of the ropy black things struck. It rebounded harmlessly off the shield. Next moment, the glowing hand of Horus had snatched it up.

  The God looked down with contempt at the struggling dark thing. “Your feasting days are over,” he said.

  Akori watched in awe as he tore it in half with his sharp beak. With vengeful fury, he grabbed all the others and ripped them to bits. When the last of the demons had been destroyed, Horus laid a grateful hand on Akori’s shoulder.

  “My debt to you is greater than any words can say,” he said in a low, deep voice. “I was right to trust you. You have repaid that trust a thousand times over. Come. Let us leave this place.”

  Gratefully, Akori turned to leave. It’s over at last, he thought. And we’ve won! I can’t wait to tell Ebe and Manu! But then he froze. Something was descending the dungeon stairs. It was a terrible figure, muscular and blackish-red, with eyes like pits of molten hate. Akori took a step back. His legs had gone suddenly weak. He knew that long face, those wide nostrils, those bared mule-like teeth. This was no vision in the smoke. This was reality. He was face-to-face with Set himself!

  “Did you really think it would be that easy, farm boy?” Set mocked. “I think you need to be taught a harsh lesson.” From behind his back he drew two curved swords, holding one in each hand. They were like giant versions of Akori’s own khopesh, but instead of gleaming gold, they were blood red. Set scraped the blades together like an executioner sharpening a knife and grinned horribly. Hot sparks flew at Akori’s face and his heart was pounding so hard it hurt, but he stood his ground.

  “You are too late!” Horus roared, moving to stand between Set and Akori. “I am free!”

  “Imprisoning you was a mistake,” snarled Set. “I should have murdered you just like I murdered Osiris, your father!”

  Horus and Akori looked at each other. With one voice, they roared a war cry and leaped into the attack.

  Set’s first blow slammed against the Shield of Sekhmet with the force of a toppling oak tree. He let out a gloating laugh. The laughter soon stopped as he saw Akori had not only stayed on his feet, but was coming back at him just as hard. The khopesh screamed through the air in a downward slash so fierce Set had to bring both of his blades up to parry it.

  Horus had no weapons but he did not need any. He dealt Set a vicious blow. Set staggered, grunted, recovered himself and began to fight in earnest.

  There was no grace in Set’s fighting. He used nothing but brute force. Blow after blow rained down on Akori, who dodged and weaved out of the way. Stone chips flew up from the floor where the blades struck.

  Set roared in anger. He was gigantic, stronger than an army – but Akori was smaller and faster and he had had plenty of practice fighting the other Gods. Whenever Set was able to land a blow, the Shield of Sekhmet was there, turning the blow aside. Horus himself launched strike after strike, pummelling Set and slowly wearing him down.

  Set’s fury was growing. In a sudden vicious move, he threw one blade at Akori and the other at Horus, who dodged. Akori deflected Set’s flying blade, narrowly escaping being cut in half. The sword embedded itself in the wall behind him.

  Akori gritted his teeth, forcing his fear down. Now was his chance! He risked a wild slash and gored Set in the leg.

  With a grunt of surprise, Set fell to one knee. Horus advanced, ready to attack. But Set slammed his fist into the floor, sending a shockwave towards Horus, who was knocked off balance and fell.

  The ground shook as the God’s body hit the flagstones. As Horus struggled to get up and back into the fight, Set raised his arms and howled out a barbaric torrent of words Akori could not understand. Thunder boomed and lightning rippled up and down Set’s whole body. He pointed at Horus.

  “And now, worthless wretch of a God, you die!” he screamed.

  Lightning ripped from his pointing finger through the air towards Horus – and Akori stepped into its path. Blocking it with the Shield of Sekhmet, ignoring the pain from the hissing sparks, he took step after step towards Set.

  The dark God roared out another strange word and the arcs of lightning grew stronger, filling the room with the stench of burned metal. Akori’s whole arm felt as if it were on fire, but still he advanced, defying Set, defying his fear. Set shrieked, lashing out at Akori with bolt after searing bolt of energy. But still Akori kept coming.

  “I am Set!” the evil God bellowed. “I am Lord of Storms! You will fear me!”

  Akori peered around his shield, preparing for the worst. But just as the evil God reared up to attack, Horus appeared behind Set and restrained him.

  “Finish him, Akori!” Horus urged as Set struggled to free himself. “Banish him back to the Underworld!”

  Akori ran forward, khopesh at the ready. He swung – but Set was already dissolving into black smoke and fading away. The sword swept through empty air. Horus’s fingers closed on nothingness. They were alone.

  “Our enemy has fled!” Horus declared, his eyes shining with triumph. “A thousand curses on him for the coward he is. And blessed be the courage of mortal men for ever!”

  Akori raised his sword and gave a wordless cry of pure joy. In that moment, he felt he could have lifted the whole earth in the palm of his hand.

  “I wish there were time to celebrate our victory, but your work is not yet done,” said Horus. “One final quest remains.”

  Akori was puzzled. “But Set was in control...wasn’t he? What other evil Gods are left?”

  “None,” said Horus. “Your last enemy is a mortal like yourself. You must confront Oba. Only when he is defeated can you take your position as the true Pharaoh of Egypt.”

  The thought left Akori stunned. He had been so occupied with releasing the good Gods that he hadn’t given any thought to what might happen afterwards. Taking the throne, being crowned, then ruling an entire kingdom?

  “Pharaoh? But I’d have to make laws, pronounce judgements, deal with politics...” His voice trailed off as uncertainty gripped him. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “I will be there to help you,” Horus reminded him.

  “I’m not ready to be Pharaoh!” Akori blustered. “Why me? Why now? All I know about is fighting and farming!”

  “Akori, listen to me, and know my words for truth,” said Horus gravely. “A true Pharaoh is not made only by what knowledge he carries in his head, but also by the worthiness of his heart. You have a brave, loyal and generous heart, my friend. And you have royal blood in your veins.”

  “Are you sure being Pharaoh is my destiny?”

  Horus let out a low, booming laugh. “You have freed five of the good Gods of Egypt, a challenge unheard of even in the golden age of the heroes. You have faced down the dark Gods and emerged victorious. Who but the true-born Pharaoh could have done all that?” Horus held out his open hand and light shimmered across the palm. A rainbow-coloured cloak appeared there. Ghostly rays of light streamed out from it, like sunlight shining through a rotating crystal. “Take it,” Horus said. “My last gift to you, along with my eternal thanks. This cloak is called the ‘Wing
s of Horus’.”

  With trembling fingers Akori fastened the cloak around his neck, feeling very royal all of a sudden. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “So light.” Then he laughed. “Why is it called the Wings of Horus? Does it let me fly in the air like a bird?”

  “Actually, yes.” Horus smiled, and started fading gently into rays of sparkling light. “Farewell until we meet again, and thank you once more.”

  Akori’s eyes widened and a broad smile spread over his face. He strode out of the dungeon, through the corridors, out of the temple and into the open air, his spirits growing stronger all the time. All of his doubts had melted away as soon as he put on the cloak. He felt bold, ready to meet Oba and finish this once and for all.

  Manu and Ebe were waiting by the gateway, with anxious looks on their faces. Manu was standing up, clearly recovered from his injury. As soon as Ebe saw Akori, she bounded across the sand to him and hugged him tight.

  “You’re alive!” Manu yelled excitedly. “What happened? Did you free Horus? Was Set there? What—”

  “I’ll tell you on the way,” Akori interrupted. “We have to get to the Pharaoh’s palace.”

  “But how are we going to get there?” Manu fell into an awed silence as two immense wings unfolded from the cloak on Akori’s back, gleaming with bright colours.

  “We fly,” Akori said with a smile. He held out his hands to his friends. “Both of you, hold on tight.”

  Ebe and Manu each grabbed one of Akori’s arms. The Wings of Horus began to beat, and the three of them sailed up into the air.

  Akori turned his head towards the south. That was where Oba was waiting, and no matter how brave Akori was feeling, he knew the Pharaoh would not give up his throne without an almighty fight.

  As they soared higher, Egypt spread out beneath them like one of Manu’s maps. Akori caught his breath as he looked down upon the golden desert and the glistening Nile. If he became Pharaoh, he would rule all of this. The thought took his breath away.