Battle of the Crocodile King Read online

  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

  Illustrations by Jerry Paris

  Map by Ian McNee

  The name Usborne and the devicesare 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 9781409554813

  Kindle ISBN 9781409554820

  Batch no. 02357/2

  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

  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 servant’s name was Nebibi, not that the Pharaoh Oba knew or cared. Nebibi was usually very good at senet, the most popular board game in Egypt. Today, though, Nebibi was trying desperately to be beaten. For he was playing against the Pharaoh himself, and Pharaoh Oba hated losing.

  Unfortunately, right now Oba was losing very badly indeed.

  “Throw the sticks!” Oba hissed.

  Nebibi reluctantly picked up the five sticks and threw them. His heart sank. All five had landed on their unmarked sides, which meant Nebibi got to move six places – the best throw in the game.

  Oba scowled. Nebibi tried to see a move that would not capture any of his opponent’s pieces, but there just wasn’t one. So he captured two of Oba’s pieces and gave his Pharaoh a sickly, apologetic smile.

  Oba grabbed the sticks and threw a pathetic two. That sent one of his pieces to the unlucky square called the House of Water. Now it was stuck, unable to move unless Oba threw a three on his next turn.

  “The House of Water,” he snarled. “I hate that filthy square. I am going to pass a law to abolish it!”

  At the side of the hall, the servants who were polishing the Pharaoh’s gold shuddered and hurried on with their work.

  Just then, the priest Bukhu marched in, his face creased into a frown and his hand clenched around his staff. Oba looked up from the game. Nebibi silently thanked the good Gods for the distraction.

  “What news of my enemy Akori?” demanded Oba. “Have you found him and killed him yet?”

  Bukhu shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. We searched all over the Great Pyramid, but found nothing. He was gone. Vanished on the desert winds.”

  Oba picked up the senet board and flung it across the room in rage. Pieces went rattling across the floor. Nebibi fled the room in terror.

  “So let me get this straight,” Oba hissed. “That lowly farm boy has released not one but two of the Gods our Dark Lord Set imprisoned. And now you tell me he has vanished?”

  Bukhu nodded grimly. “Yes, Your Majesty, but do not worry, three of the Gods remain imprisoned, including the mighty Horus himself. They’ll never defeat us – we have dark magic on our side.”

  “Do not worry?” Oba shrieked. “This boy has released the Gods Ra and Anubis. He has defeated the great Snake Goddess Wadjet and the mighty Hunter God Am-Heh, and now he has disappeared.” Oba glared at Bukhu, his eyes glinting with rage. “How has he performed this vanishing trick, eh? Does the farm boy have a magician’s powers?”

  Bukhu pursed his lips. “It may be that he does, Your Majesty.”

  Oba turned ash-pale. “Do not joke with me, priest.”

  “I never joke, Your Majesty.” Bukhu stared straight at Oba. “He has powers – but they are not his own. I think the Gods he has freed may have been giving him assistance. I have learned that he called up a mighty, blinding light to defeat the undead at the Temple of Horus. Does that not sound like the power of the Sun God Ra to you?”

  Oba seemed on the verge of another tantrum. “But that’s cheating! I see what he’s doing now. He’s trying to get the good Gods to gang up on me! Well, it won’t work! Not when I have the Lord of Storms Set himself on my side.”

  Turning away, Oba began to rage against Akori as if he were actually in the room. “That stupid Sphinx’s prophecy might have called you a king but you’re just a low-born brat, Akori! You’re beetle dung! You’re nothing!” Oba shook with fury.

  “My Lord, my master...my friend,” said Bukhu in a voice of deep calm, “you are the one true Pharaoh. It is as certain as the stars. Look at the lengths you went to to claim your throne.”

  A small smile played upon Oba’s lips as he remembered how he had poisoned his father, the previous Pharaoh, by slipping cobra venom into his wine.

  “Yes. That boy is no match for me,” he muttered.

  Bukhu nodded. “Indeed. You will never be defeated, My Pharaoh. And I shall prove it.”

  Oba frowned. “How?”

  “I have a special visitor for you,” Bukhu replied, a rare smile spreading across his scarred face. “Listen – here he comes now!”

  A distant boom, boom, boom grew louder and louder – the sound of huge feet tramping on a stone floor.

  Oba’s eyes widened. Was an elephant striding through his royal palace? And there was a smell, too… A marshy smell, hot and rank, like a reptile pit.

  Then the double doors crashed open, and a huge brute of a man appeared. He was so tall he had to stoop to enter. Scaly flesh hung in folds from his body. And it was not a human head that emerged into the room. Saw-toothed jaws, yellow eyes – it was the head of a crocodile!


  The servants screamed and fled to the back of the hall. One girl fainted away on the spot. The crocodile-man fixed its gaze on her still body with a hungry leer.

  “Sobek!” Oba cried in delight, turning to Bukhu. “You have brought me the Crocodile God Sobek!”

  Bukhu nodded. “When Set captured the Goddess Isis, he imprisoned her in Sobek’s underwater lair in Nebyt. He knew that it would make a formidable prison. And now it will make a deadly trap.”

  Oba looked at the huge Crocodile God towering before him, his teeth as long and sharp as swords. “What do you mean – trap?”

  “Well, if Akori is planning to release Isis the way he has released the Gods Ra and Anubis, we will be ready this time. Sobek himself will be waiting for him.”

  “Aha,” said Oba, and an evil smile began spreading across his face. Then his smile froze. “But how do you know Akori will try and release Isis next? What if he tries to save one of the other Gods?”

  Bukhu shook his head. “Do not worry – the farm boy will have no choice but to go to Isis. Sobek has seen to that.”

  Oba frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “My Pharaoh,” rumbled Sobek, falling to one knee. The stone cracked under his weight where he kneeled. “Ever since Isis has been trapped in my lair, she hasn’t stopped crying. I have used my powers to multiply her tears. The River Nile is starting to flood. And the sound of her wailing can be heard far and wide. When Akori hears her cries he will be forced to come and find her – and I will be waiting.”

  Oba rubbed his hands together in glee. Then he watched as Sobek turned to look at the fallen servant girl once again, drool trickling between his long jagged teeth.

  “I have a better feast for you than her, mighty Sobek,” Oba told him. “When Akori gets to your lair, I want you to kill him.”

  Sobek peered down at Oba, his face fixed in its constant toothy sneer. “I shall make a swift meal of him, Your Majesty, then leave his bones for the little fishes to clean!”

  Oba looked at Sobek’s huge jaws and smiled once again. It was so pleasurable to imagine Akori’s limp body grasped between them.

  Under a sky the colour of hammered lead, three young people stood waist deep in the River Nile. They were lifting water out in large pots. To look at them, you might think they had been swimming, they were so drenched. The water around them crashed and frothed. Its spray spattered on Akori’s head and ran from his nose and chin. His friend Manu’s sodden robe clung to his skinny body like a ship’s sail stuck to a mast. Servant girl Ebe’s hair, usually a wild frizz, was plastered to her neck and shoulders. Bedraggled and miserable, she reminded Akori of a soaked cat.

  “This river is so wet!” Manu declared, gesturing at the churning water.

  Akori rolled his eyes. Manu was a good and trusted friend, but he was also a trainee priest and, like many educated people, he had a knack for pointing out the obvious.

  “By all the Gods, you’re right! Thanks, Manu! I thought I was just sweating a lot.”

  Ebe chuckled, despite her foul mood. Akori liked to hear her laugh. Ebe could not speak, but when she laughed she sounded just like any other girl their age.

  “Most days you sweat like a pig, Akori,” Manu replied, dragging his pots of water towards the shore. “Anyone who’s had to walk downwind of you knows that.”

  “Nothing wrong with honest sweat,” Akori called back, filling his own pot. “You’d know that if you’d ever done a day’s work in your life, instead of sitting on your bony bum in the temple reading scrolls all day!”

  Grinning, Manu flung some water at him, and Akori flung some back, while Ebe screeched and laughed. Then there was a sudden swell of water, causing it to lash up against their faces.

  “Why do you think the river is so high?” Manu asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Akori gravely. “Something’s wrong.”

  Manu nodded. “Last week we had the worst drought in all of Egypt’s history, thanks to Ra’s sun-barge straying from its course. And now, just a few days later, the Nile is about to flood. It doesn’t make sense. Where is all this water coming from?”

  Akori frowned. “It must be Set’s work.”

  There was a sudden crack of thunder. Manu and Ebe stared at Akori, then looked up at the darkening sky.

  “Well he’s bound to be angry now you have released two of the five good Gods he imprisoned,” Manu continued.

  “Yes,” Akori replied. “Which means there’s no time to lose. We have to find the other three Gods before it’s too late.”

  They dragged their pots out of the river and up the shore. Ahead lay the Temple of Horus, their home and safe refuge.

  Akori turned and looked back at the raging Nile. The Temple had a small jetty where the boats were moored. They had used that jetty just days before, when they had come back from fishing. Akori shivered as he remembered how a gruesome band of the undead had been waiting for them when they got there. At least since he had released the God Anubis, the ghostly figures that had plagued Egypt had been able to make their journey to the Underworld. But they weren’t the only things to have gone. The jetty had too. It was now completely submerged in water.

  Ebe suddenly halted. She frowned and cupped a hand to her ear. That was one of her signs, and the others knew what she meant instantly. Akori listened, straining to hear what Ebe had heard.

  The constant din of the water drowned out almost everything, but he could just about hear it, fading in and out, as if it were carried on an unsteady wind. The sound of a woman crying.

  Akori had never heard grief like it. She sounded so alone, so sad. He looked up and down the river, but could see nothing except stormy waters.

  “Do you hear it too?” he asked Manu. Manu nodded sorrowfully.

  Akori yelled out over the river. “Hello? Can you hear me? Hello!” He waded back into the water. If the crying woman was out there, she needed his help fast.

  “Akori!” Manu yelled in warning, but Akori had already waded away from the shore.

  He could still hear the sound of the woman weeping. It seemed to come from all around, but there was no sign of her. Manu continued shouting at him, but Akori couldn’t make out what he was saying. Up to his waist in water now, Akori strode out further – and then he saw them.

  Dark shapes, swimming silently through the murky water. Bumpy backs, so easy to mistake for floating logs. A flash of yellow eyes – and mouths opening like huge traps, lined with sharp teeth!

  “Crocodiles!” screamed Manu. “Akori, get out of there!” Ebe hopped up and down beside him, making screeching noises.

  Akori didn’t need telling twice. He came splashing out of the river as fast as he could. Near the shore, the riverbed was thick and muddy, sucking at his feet as he tried to run. The crocodiles swam lazily after him, as if they had all the time in the world.

  Gasping, Akori threw out his arms. Manu and Ebe grabbed one each and pulled him from the river. The crocodiles clustered where he had been, so close together that you could have stepped from one to the other.

  The three friends stared at the line of six silent crocodiles and backed away, in case the beasts decided to follow them onto the shore. But the crocodiles just stared back. Their yellow eyes never blinked. They made Akori feel deeply uneasy.

  The crying was louder now, and clearer. Akori could hear every choking sob as if the woman was standing right next to him.

  “Akori, we have to go,” urged Manu.

  “I can’t,” Akori answered, anger creeping into his voice. “Just listen to her. She needs us. What if those crocodiles get her, and I’m not here to help?”

  “What if they get her? Akori, what if they get you? You’re the one they’re staring at!” Manu took his friend by the shoulders. “How much help do you think you’re going to be to anyone if a crocodile eats you for breakfast, eh?”

  Akori frowned, but he knew Manu was right. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go back to the Temple and ask the High Priest what we should do. We have
to help her somehow.”

  The trio gathered their pots and headed uphill towards the Temple. As they climbed, Akori looked back over his shoulder.

  The crocodiles were still there, waiting patiently at the edge of the water.

  And they were still watching him.

  The blind High Priest of Horus was standing in the temple doorway. He ushered them through, patting Akori on the shoulder.

  “You are soaking!” he exclaimed. “Inside with you, before you catch a chill!”

  “Your Holiness,” Akori spluttered as they hurried into the Great Hall, “I heard a woman crying, and there were crocodiles—”

  But before Akori could say any more he felt a sharp pain in his arm. He put his pot of water down and winced. It was his birthmark, and it felt as if it was burning. He rubbed it, but that only made the pain worse. Manu was looking at him with a worried expression.

  “Akori, are you all right?”

  “It’s my birthmark. It feels like it’s on fire! I need cold water!” he gasped, clutching his arm. Light was beginning to shine from it between his fingers.

  “Here,” Manu said, passing him a pot of water.

  But as Akori went to dip a cloth into it to hold to his burning arm, he noticed something very strange. The river water that had been murky was now glimmering, shining with supernatural light!

  Could it be the reflection from his blazing birthmark? But no – the water was glowing from within. The light was a golden colour Akori knew well by now. It was the sign of Horus, most powerful of all the good Gods!

  Manu started to speak, but the High Priest hushed him. “This vision is for Akori,” he whispered. “The rest of us must wait in silence.” And with that, he withdrew to a bench at the side of the hall, leaving the three friends gazing into the pot.

  An image began to take shape in the water. It was the face of Horus; he had the head of a hawk, and eyes that burned with frustration at his captivity. Set’s dark energies swirled around him, holding him in tentacle-like bonds. Horus struggled against them, but could not break free.