Lair of the Winged Monster
Page 1
With thanks to Adrian Bott
First published in the UK in 2012 by Usborne Publishing Ltd., Usborne House, 83–85 Saffron Hill, London EC1N 8RT, England. www.usborne.com
Text copyright © Hothouse Fiction, 2012
Illustrations copyright © Usborne Publishing Ltd., 2012
Cover illustration by Jerry Paris. Inside illustrations by David Shephard.
Map by Ian McNee
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 9781409554837
Kindle ISBN 9781409554844
Batch no. 02358/2
CONTENTS
Link to QUEST OF THE GODS TV advert
Copyright
The Prophecy of the Sphinx
Manu’s Map of Ancient Egypt
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Sneak preview of Akori’s other battles
Quest of the Gods Website info
THE PROPHECY OF THE SPHINX
THE SPHINX AM I
GUARDIAN OF THE PYRAMIDS
KEEPER OF SECRETS
THE PAST I REMEMBER
THE PRESENT I SEE
THE FUTURE I FORETELL
WHEN THE PHARAOH SHALL DIE
AT THE HANDS OF HIS SON
A PLAGUE SHALL FALL UPON EGYPT
THE LORD OF STORMS WILL RISE AGAIN
THE GOOD GODS WILL BE CHAINED
AND MONSTERS WILL WALK THE LAND
THE SACRED RIVER SHALL SLOW AND DRY
THE SUN WILL SCORCH THE LAND LIKE FIRE
THE STREETS OF EGYPT SHALL RUN WITH BLOOD
BUT HOPE WILL COME FROM THE SOUTH
A HERO OF THE WHEATFIELDS
A KING WITHOUT A KINGDOM
THE LAST OF HIS FAMILY
A LOST CHILD OF HORUS
HE SHALL BATTLE THE MONSTERS TO FREE THE GODS
HE WILL CLAIM THE WHITE CROWN
HE WILL CLAIM THE RED CROWN
HE WILL RULE ALL EGYPT
THE SPHINX AM I
THESE SECRETS I SHARE
GUARD THEM WELL
The soldiers had been standing in lines under the boiling Egyptian sun for an hour already, but not one of them moved or uttered a word of complaint. A lucky few were in the shadow cast by the high palace walls. The rest could do nothing but stand and sweat, waiting for the royal inspection to begin.
The brand new shields they carried felt as heavy as rocks, but they could easily have borne the heat and the exhaustion for many more hours. Every one of them knew there were a lot worse things that could happen. They only had to look up at the walls to be reminded of that. The bodies of those who had displeased Pharaoh Oba hung there. And above the bodies hovered a cloud of vultures that were not going hungry these days.
A sudden blare of trumpets sent the vultures flapping up in surprise. The young Pharaoh Oba strode into the courtyard, wearing the Double Crown of Egypt and a dazzling white robe.
Every single soldier thumped his chest in salute. A deafening shout went up: “Long life to the Pharaoh! Victory to the Chosen One of Set!”
Oba began to walk up and down the ranks, scowling into faces. Wherever he looked, soldiers stiffened in fear and stared straight ahead.
These were brutal men, with scars and reputations as ruthless fighters. Each one had killed dozens. In the inns and the streets, people would hurry out of their way. But this sour-faced boy terrified them more than a pit full of cobras, even though he was not yet old enough to grow a beard. One glance from those cruel eyes, one snap of his fingers, and it could be them hanging up there on the walls.
Behind Oba followed Bukhu, the High Priest, ever patient, ever ready to smooth over his Pharaoh’s angry tantrums. He waited until Oba gave him a nod to show he was satisfied, then he unrolled a scroll and began to read.
“Honoured ones! You are the Pharaoh’s own warrior elite, his hand-picked Fangs of Set!” Bukhu gestured to the red-painted symbol on their shields, the jackal-like emblem of Set, God of Darkness. “Be glad! Be proud! Know that the Pharaoh values you above all others!”
Oba gave a hideous grin.
“Because you are the best of the best,” Bukhu went on, “you have been chosen to carry out a very important mission. A mission that must not fail!”
The soldiers glanced at one another. They were all thinking the same thing: failure was death. Up on the walls, two vultures fought noisily over a grisly morsel.
“Your beloved Pharaoh,” said Bukhu, “is facing a sinister threat from a pretender to his crown. Learn the traitor’s name now, all of you, so you may cut it out of his heart: Akori. Say it.”
“Akori,” went the mumble through the ranks. The boy Pharaoh scowled, as if someone had tipped vinegar down his throat.
Bukhu boomed, “You all remember how our friend and ally, the mighty Set, defeated the upstart God Horus and cast four more of the so-called ‘good Gods’ into magical prisons?”
The soldiers nodded instantly.
“That should have begun a new era of glory and conquest! Egypt should have risen to become ruler of the world! Instead, my friends, we have been undermined. By means of foul magic, treachery and cheap tricks, Akori has freed three of the rebel Gods.”
Nobody said a word, but amazement showed on all of their faces. How could one boy do all of that?
“But his rebellion will not stop there, oh no. He seeks to free them all!” Bukhu, normally so calm, was nearly screaming now. “He will stop at nothing!” He pointed a shaking finger at Oba. “He intends to free Horus, and lead a rebellion against the rightful Pharaoh!”
“Death to the traitor!” yelled a warrior in the front rank.
A sudden silence fell across the courtyard. All the soldiers held their breath. Then Oba smiled broadly and clapped his hands, and all the other warriors began to shout “Death to the traitor!” too. Baying like wolves, they called for Akori’s blood as they stamped their feet on the ground. They had forgotten all about their fear. They hammered on their shields with their sword hilts until Bukhu held up his hands for silence.
“The Fangs of Set shall have the honour of ending this menace,” he said. “We are sending you to find Akori and kill him. Do not waste your time trying to take him alive; there will be no reward for that. Kill the boy, and you will be welcome in the house of the Pharaoh for ever after. Gold, riches and the favour of Set will be yours.”
The favour of Set! The soldiers began to smirk at one another. This day had not gone so badly after all!
“Behold!” cried Bukhu. “Set sends you a little of his favour in advance, to help you on your mission. He has given you a gift!”
The soldiers lo
oked around, confused. There was no sign of any gift. What did the priest mean?
Bukhu barked an order. Slaves ran to the courtyard doors and began to heave on them. From outside there came a ghastly hiss.
The gates swung open. Oba gasped in awe as he saw what was waiting out there, and the soldiers gasped with him. The hissing sound grew louder.
As the gift of Set began to enter the courtyard, Oba rubbed his hands together with glee. “Time to die, Akori,” he whispered to himself. “Time to become a feast for my vultures...”
Akori, Manu and Ebe jostled their way through the crowded market square. The High Priest had sent them to buy some cooking oil for the temple. It should have been a simple task but so far it was proving far more difficult than they had expected.
“Why is everyone in such a bad mood?” Manu grumbled as a servant carrying a large pot on his head shoved past.
“I don’t know,” Akori muttered, “but if one more person treads on my foot I’m going to cut off their sandals with my khopesh.”
Next to him, Ebe grunted. She wasn’t able to speak, but Akori could tell from the cross expression on her face that she wasn’t happy either. Normally the market was a fun place to be. It was where people came to barter and trade and catch up on the latest news – but today it felt very different. Instead of laughing and chatting, people were pushing and shoving and shouting at each other to get out of the way.
Up ahead of them, a crowd had gathered around the oil merchant’s stall. Akori heard something smash and then a shout.
“You broke my pot!” a man yelled.
“You tripped me!” another yelled back.
The crowd parted slightly and Akori saw that the men had started fighting.
Before long another man had joined in. And then another, until almost everyone who had been standing around the stall was rolling on the dusty ground, kicking and punching wildly.
Behind the stall, the wizened merchant began hurriedly loading his jars of oil onto his donkey. Then he dragged the donkey off down a narrow alleyway.
“I don’t like this,” Manu called to Akori above the din. “Something’s not right.”
Akori frowned. “I know. We need to get back to the Temple. Come on, Ebe, let’s go.”
As Akori led them back through the jostling crowd, he thought of all the terrible things that had happened to Egypt since the evil God Set had imprisoned five of the good Gods. The capture of the Sun God Ra had led to a drought. When the Guide of the Dead, Anubis, had been imprisoned inside the Great Pyramid, the undead had started plaguing the living. And when the Goddess Isis had been trapped inside a watery dungeon, the River Nile had flooded. Akori had since released all three of these Gods but two more remained imprisoned – Sekhmet the Warrior Goddess, and the leader of the good Gods, Horus himself. Akori couldn’t help thinking that what was happening in the market was somehow linked to this.
When they got back to the temple, they found the blind High Priest anxiously pacing inside the entrance.
“Akori, Manu, Ebe, is that you?” he asked as they came crashing through the door.
“Yes. Is everything all right?” Akori said, rushing to take hold of one of the High Priest’s frail arms. He’d never seen the old man look so worried.
“Two of the trainee priests have had a fight,” the High Priest said.
“What?” Manu exclaimed. “But priests never fight!”
The High Priest sighed. “I know.”
“How did it happen?” Akori asked.
“I’d asked them to help each other with their study,” the High Priest explained. “But then they started arguing over one of the scrolls and before I knew it, they were fighting. It was as if they’d been possessed by one of Set’s demons.”
“People were fighting in the market too,” Akori said. “Everyone seems so—”
Akori was interrupted by the slap-slap-slap of sandalled feet running fast, then the storeroom door flew open with a crash. One of the High Priest’s servants stood in the lamplight, panting.
“Come quickly!” he gasped. “The fire in the great hall – it’s burning out of control!”
They all raced to the door of the great hall, where they saw a strange, flickering light. Together they rushed in.
The priests had been preparing for a meal, but now overturned tables lay in disarray. The hearth was overflowing with leaping yellow flames, as if a whole barrel of oil had been hurled into it. Tongues of fire licked at the blackened ceiling.
Akori sat the High Priest down on a bench by the door. “Stay with him, Ebe,” Akori said. “Make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”
Ebe nodded, and held the High Priest’s gnarled hand tightly in hers.
“We’ll be burned alive!” one young priest screamed as he ran past. “The Temple will be destroyed!”
“Don’t be a fool!” shouted another. “Fetch water, quick!”
Priests came running from the kitchens, carrying basins and pots full of water. Just as the first of them was about to throw his jugful onto the roaring flames, Akori felt a searing heat on his upper arm. For a second he thought the fire had scalded him, but then he saw his birthmark burning with a bright golden light. The sign! Horus must be trying to appear to him.
“Stop!” he shouted.
The priest just stared and shook his head. He made as if to throw the water, but Manu grabbed his arm hard.
“We have to trust Akori!” he said to the furious priest.
Akori felt grateful for Manu’s faith in him. It was a grave offence for a trainee like Manu to lay hands on a priest. Hoping he hadn’t doomed them all to death in a fiery furnace, Akori looked into the flames. They made his eyes sting, but he refused to look away…
He’d been right! The image of Horus, tall, muscular and hawk-headed, began to form in the midst of the flames – and then broke apart.
Akori’s heart lurched. Was Horus too weak to reach him? The flames drew together a second time, and this time the image held, but only just. Horus reached out to Akori, clearly struggling. The flames formed his body, but the dark smoke of the fire shaped itself into black manacles, binding the God’s wrists and feet.
“Akori!” came the noble voice, now harsh and faint. “Hear me...there is so little time!”
Akori kneeled. “My Lord, I am here.” Behind him, he heard the priests kneeling and putting down their vessels of water.
“Seek...Sekhmet,” Horus urged. “Set holds her prisoner. If she is not freed soon, evil will surely triumph and all your efforts will have been for nothing!”
“Sekhmet!” Manu whispered. “The lion-headed one!”
“Sekhmet is the Goddess who restores order,” Horus said. His image shimmered unsteadily as if it were about to break apart again. “Without her influence, peace is breaking down. Chaos reigns. People fight one another for any reason...or for no reason at all.”
“I understand,” Akori nodded, thinking of the scenes in the market.
“Egypt needs Sekhmet to do battle against the evil Gods!” cried Horus. “She is the fiercest of all warriors! But you must be very careful – she will be guarded by—”
But his words were lost as the fire blazed up once again, and the heat became unbearable. Some tremendous force of evil was clearly trying to break the communication. Despite the heat, Akori shivered. The dark God Set had allies, fellow Gods of evil. They were the worst of all foes to face. Which one would he have to confront next?
With a tremendous effort, Horus appeared again. “...and the Minions of Set!” he gasped. “Beasts...that walk...and crawl upon the sand! Akori, I am sorry...there is not time to warn you of everything...”
Quickly, before the contact was broken again, Akori asked, “Lord, where should I seek Sekhmet?”
“She is imprisoned in the heart of the Sahara desert,” came the reply. “In the Hidden Fortress of Fire! Above all else, beware—”
The furnace roared like a monstrous beast. As Horus vanished in the surging flames, Akori c
ould just make out the words “…terrible...Goddess...winged...devour...”
Akori took a step back and shuddered. He had thought his previous battles had been difficult, but something told him this next one would be the hardest yet. Who or what were the Minions of Set – and who was the terrible Goddess Horus had been trying to warn him about?
As soon as the fire had died down and order had been restored in the great hall, the three friends gathered by the Temple door. There was not a moment to lose – they had to set out on their quest into the desert straight away. The High Priest had ordered that some bags of food and a waterskin each be brought to them. It gave Akori a strange feeling to think that was all he would have to eat and drink for the next week. There were no inns in the desert.
As usual, Manu was lugging his bags of scrolls along with him. Nothing Akori could say would persuade the boy to leave any of them behind. Manu would just as soon have left his arms and legs behind as his scroll bags.
Ebe, as always, took nothing but the tatty slave-girl’s clothes she always wore. Even her feet were bare.
The blind High Priest loaded them up with a few extra waterskins as they prepared to leave. “Take as much water as you can carry unless you want to die of thirst!” he advised.
As they turned to say their goodbyes, the High Priest laid a warning hand on Akori’s shoulder. “Beware the desert, my young friends,” he said. “There are deadly creatures there...scorpions, snakes, all manner of hunting beasts. Not to mention the Minions of Set!”
“What are these Minions of Set that you and Horus speak of?” said Akori.
The High Priest frowned. “Many of the unnatural things that have been unleashed from the Underworld have fled to the desert,” he said gravely. “They prey upon travellers. There is nowhere to hide in the open sands, under the glare of the burning sun.”
“We’ll be careful,” Akori promised, but he couldn’t help feeling alarmed at the High Priest’s words. To try and reassure himself, Akori looked in his pouch at the gifts he had been given by the Gods he had released. As well as the Scarab of Anubis, which could heal even the most deadly wounds, he carried the Talisman of Ra, filled with the sun’s holy power, and the Ring of Isis, which could make the wearer invisible. And, of course, there was the gift from Horus himself, the golden khopesh sword that hung from Akori’s belt. Horus had given it to him on the first day of his quest. That enchanted razor-edge could surely cut through anything. But would it be strong enough to free Sekhmet?