Curse of the Demon Dog 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 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 9781409554790 Kindle ISBN 9781409554806

  Batch no. 02356/2

  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

  It had taken the royal sculptor ten long months to carve the statue of the last Pharaoh. The wise, kindly face had looked out over the throne room for years. But now the new Pharaoh, Oba, took only seconds to destroy it. With a scream, he threw his whole weight against the statue of his dead father, sending it flying. When he had poisoned his father he’d thought all Egypt would be his. He had not thought for one moment that he would face such a challenge to his authority. Slaves and scribes ran for cover as the statue shattered on the floor. The scar-faced priest, Bukhu, winced as alabaster shards flew through the air. He winced again as Oba began to shriek at the top of his voice.

  “The Snake Goddess Wadjet was defeated, and now the Sun God Ra is free? How dare you bring me this news?”

  “But, Your Majesty—” Bukhu began.

  “The God of Darkness, Lord Set, imprisoned the five good Gods so that evil could reign,” Oba interrupted. “And now you tell me one of them is free. You’re nothing but a filthy traitor! I should have you whipped!” He grabbed a ceremonial staff and snapped it across his knee.

  “I am telling you the truth, Your Majesty,” Bukhu replied smoothly. “The boy Akori managed to release Ra. I do not like it any more than you, but if I told you comforting lies instead, I would be failing in my duty as your most loyal servant.”

  Oba ignored him and hurled the broken staff at the young slave girl waiting to anoint his feet with scented balm. She dropped the jar and fled, weeping.

  “But you told me Akori was nothing but a low-born brat raised on a farm,” Oba said, slumping down onto his throne, panting and red-faced. “Wadjet was a Goddess! How could he possibly have beaten her?”

  Bukhu spoke very slowly. “Remember the Prophecy of the Sphinx, Master. It foretold that the challenger to your throne would come from the lowly wheatfields. But Akori could not have acted alone. He must have had help. Help of a most powerful kind.”

  A flash of fear showed in Oba’s eyes. “He has allies? Who? I must know more.”

  Bukhu smiled a sly smile. “Shall I kindle the Typhonian Flame, Your Majesty? Our Dark Lord Set will have the answers we seek.”

  Oba’s eyes widened. Then he nodded in agreement.

  Crossing to the brazier that stood in the middle of the room, Bukhu sprinkled black powder over the glowing coals and muttered a magic spell. Immediately, the fire flared a fierce red. With a sound like distant thunder, a cone of smoke whirled up, filling the throne room with stifling darkness.

  In the smoke, a face took form. It was a face of nightmares – a long-eared, long-snouted beast, like some horrible combination of a donkey and a wild boar. Its tiny red eyes gleamed with anger.

  “Set!” squeaked Oba, scurrying behind his throne, unable to face his master’s rage. Bukhu threw up his hands as if Set were about to blast him with fire.

  “M-my Dark Lord,” Bukhu stammered, “we ask for your help…”

  The throne room grew as dark as a crypt, and the hideous face of Set loomed out of the smoke.

  “IDIOTS! YOU DARE TO ASK FOR MY HELP? WHEN YOU HAVE ALREADY FAILED ME?”

  Ripples of red lightning shot out of the smoke cloud and crackled across the marble floor. Oba watched in horror, gripping the back of his throne, certain Bukhu was about to be devoured. And he would be next…

  “Forgive us, Lord Set,” begged Bukhu. “All is not lost. Four Gods remain trapped and we can easily defeat this farm boy.”

  Set’s voice sank to a low growl.

  “Fools! You have no idea of the threat that we face. That ‘farm boy’ is of royal blood! And he bears the mark of my own greatest enemy!”

  “Horus?” gasped Oba.

  The terrible face glared right at him, and Oba realized – too late – that he had spoken the hated name of the leader of the good Gods aloud. That was forbidden in Set’s presence. Oba felt the powerful, invisible force of Set’s anger squeezing his throat, and he whimpered in fear. He struggled to think of the right thing to say.

  “But…My Lord…you…imprisoned him! Surely…your power…is…greater!”

  “Yes,” Set hissed, letting Oba breathe again. “I am stronger than he is. But even my power cannot stand against all the good Gods of Egypt acting together. If Akori manages to free them all, I will be defeated – and so will both of you!”

  Oba and Bukhu exchanged guilty glances. Bukhu bowed his head in shame.

  “Lord of Storms, we will not fail you again,” he said. “Lend us your aid, so we can bring you this Akori’s dead body.”

  “Help us, My Dark Lord,” echoed Oba, praying he would not be choked again.

  “Very well,” rumbled Set. “Since you have failed to find the boy y
ourselves, I shall send you someone who can – Am-Heh, the Hunter. Nobody has ever escaped him, and even the Gods fear his mighty claws. What Am-Heh hunts, he catches. And what he catches, he destroys.”

  As he spoke, Set’s face faded from the smoke, and a new shape began to grow there. A tall, lean figure with the head of a fearsome hunting dog. An ancient hunger burned in his eyes, a hunger that could never be satisfied. His teeth were bared, and foaming drool ran from his muzzle. Oba grinned. Now this was power!

  Am-Heh stepped from the smoke. The curved claws of his feet clicked on the floor. He crouched, as if ready to spring, and looked up at Oba.

  “What is your bidding, Great Pharaoh?” he growled.

  “Find the boy called Akori,” Oba commanded. “And destroy him.”

  Am-Heh gave a ghastly howl. Far off in the depths of the palace, frightened slaves paused from their duties and silently prayed to the good Gods for protection. Only a horror from the Underworld could make a sound like that.

  Am-Heh bowed once and raced out of the room.

  Oba watched him go, a twisted smile upon his lips. Am-Heh certainly looked hungry! Oba pictured the farm boy Akori lying on a silver platter with Am-Heh looming over him, his terrible teeth bared. His own stomach began to rumble.

  “Fetch me my supper, Bukhu!” ordered Oba.

  The thought of Akori meeting his end between Am-Heh’s huge jaws had given him quite an appetite…

  Akori plunged his spear into the rushing water but yet again the fish evaded him. “In the name of Horus!” he exclaimed. “The river is too fast. We’ll never catch supper at this rate.”

  Perched on the rock next to him, his friend Manu broke into a grin. “You should be proud, Akori,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for you, the Nile would never have flooded again. You’ve saved our whole country from starving.” Crouched alongside them, with her own spear poised, Ebe nodded in agreement. Her wild, tangled hair was wet at the ends from the river’s spray.

  Akori frowned. He may have saved all Egypt from starvation but right now he felt hungrier than ever. He leaned over to jab at the silver streak of a passing fish and the golden amulet hanging around his neck swung forwards and glinted in the sunlight. Akori was instantly reminded of the adventure he and his friends had recently shared. The adventure that had led to the Nile’s flood.

  When Ra, the Sun God, had been imprisoned on his own magical sun-barge by the evil God Set, the barge had gone off course, causing a dreadful drought. Together with Manu and Ebe, Akori had defeated the terrifying Snake Goddess, Wadjet, and freed Ra, setting the sun-barge back on course. The grateful Sun God had given him the amulet as a reward and had promised Akori that it would help him in his quest to free the four other good Gods imprisoned by Set. As Akori wondered which of the Gods he would have to set out to rescue next, the falcon-shaped birthmark on his arm started to tingle. He hoped that Horus, the leader of the good Gods, would find the strength to send a message to him soon.

  Akori looked back down into the river. It had been a few days since Ra had been released. Now the swollen Nile was as broad as a lake, and as powerful as an ocean.

  Akori saw another shimmer of silver streak through the water and plunged his spear down. The spear shuddered. When he pulled it back out, a huge perch was caught on the end.

  Ebe waved her arms about in excitement and Manu grabbed his net. “It’s big enough to feed the entire temple,” he cried as Akori dropped the fish into the net.

  Akori grinned. “It had better be – it took us all day to catch it!” He felt a pang of sorrow as he thought of the person who had taught him to fish. His Uncle Shenti had taught him so many things when he lived on his farm. It was hard to believe he would never see him again. But Shenti had been killed in an attack on the farm by the evil Pharaoh Oba’s scorpion-riding warriors. If only Akori had got to him in time – he might have been able to save him.

  Akori was wrenched from his sudden gloom by Ebe. She was still waving her arms about, but she wasn’t smiling any more. She was looking worried.

  “What is it, Ebe?” Akori asked, wishing that the servant girl were able to speak.

  Ebe pointed a little further along the water.

  “The boat!” Akori exclaimed.

  When they’d set off on their fishing expedition they’d taken a little reed boat across the river to where the fish were more plentiful. They had pulled the boat up onto the bank to stop it from drifting off, but the waters were rising so fast the boat was afloat again and starting to drift away. If they didn’t catch it they would be stuck on the wrong side of the Nile…

  Akori tried to run across the rocks to get to the boat, but they were too wet and he started to slip and slide. He wasn’t going to make it in time! But then suddenly Ebe raced past him. With a great spring, she leaped from the rocks into the little boat, causing it to rock wildly. Some water splashed up, and Ebe yelped. Pulling a face, she paddled the boat back to the others.

  Akori climbed in to join her, laughing at her sour expression.

  “What’s the matter, Ebe? Don’t you like getting wet?”

  Ebe looked at him as if to say, I’d rather eat a plate of sand.

  “Well done, Ebe,” puffed Manu as he finally reached them, struggling under the weight of the huge fish. He hauled the fishing net into the boat and clambered in after it. Then they set off across the shimmering water. The sun was setting but Akori could still see the Temple of Horus in the distance. He couldn’t wait to tell the kindly old High Priest about his catch. During the drought food had become very scarce and the priests in the temple had had to survive on meagre rations of barley and wheat. The Nile had practically dried up and fish had become a luxury.

  As they neared the other side, Akori spotted three figures moving along the bank of the river. It looked as if they were heading for the little jetty where the temple boats were tied up.

  “Look,” said Manu. “Some of the priests are coming to greet us.”

  Akori stared at the figures. Something about them looked…wrong. They moved too jerkily for normal people, staggering and lurching forwards as if they were ill – or dazed.

  Akori turned to Manu.

  “I’m not sure they are priests,” he said.

  Manu looked closer. “You’re right,” he agreed, sounding worried. “There’s something very strange about them.”

  Akori nodded grimly. “I think we’d better row a bit faster.”

  Manu and Akori heaved at the oars, determined to reach the jetty before the strange figures did. Their pace soon began to pick up, but then Ebe started pointing wildly to the shore. Akori saw to his horror that the people on the bank had increased their speed too. And now there were more of them. Ten at least, all moving rapidly alongside the river, waving their arms menacingly at the boat.

  “I think they’re after us!” he gasped.

  “We have to get to the temple,” replied Manu urgently. “We’ll be safe there. Row!”

  The two boys doubled their efforts. The boat raced across the water and soon knocked against the jetty. The three friends scrambled ashore.

  “Shall we tie the boat up?” Manu asked. “We don’t want to lose it again.”

  Akori glanced along the riverbank. The figures were only a little way away now. Their skin was as grey as smoke and they were lunging forwards with outstretched arms and gaping mouths. As they drew closer a terrible smell wafted down to the water.

  “Never mind the boat!” said Akori, reaching for the golden khopesh sword that Horus had given him. Hopefully its magical powers would work against these gruesome people. “Let’s get to the temple!”

  They abandoned the boat and ran up the jetty steps. Akori reached the top first. There in front of him stood one of the strange figures. His eyes were dark, sunken holes and his feet were scabbed and rotten. Akori felt fear surge through him. Who were these people? What was wrong with them? And what did they want? One thing he knew for certain, from the way the man was glaring at him, was t
hat they did not want to be friends. Akori glanced back down the steps at Manu and Ebe. “You go to the temple and warn the High Priest.” He brandished his khopesh at the gruesome figure. “I’ll see them off.”

  “No!” Manu exclaimed as he hauled the fish up the steps and came to stand beside Akori. “We can’t leave you alone with them.”

  Ebe nodded vigorously in agreement and took her place at his other side. Akori felt a sudden burst of gratitude for his friends.

  In front of them the grey-skinned people all gathered together as one, like a foul-smelling thundercloud.

  “What do you want?” Akori asked, gripping his khopesh tightly.

  The ghostly crowd started softly chanting.

  “What are they saying?” Manu whispered.

  Akori shook his head and frowned. “I don’t know. It sounds like ‘dare’.”

  “Dare?” Manu echoed.

  Ebe drew her lips back and hissed at them. But the figures only lurched closer and chanted louder.

  “Akori?” Manu whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think they’re saying ‘dare’ at all.”

  “No?”

  “No. I think they’re saying—”

  But Akori didn’t need Manu to tell him, he’d worked it out for himself. The figures were chanting “death”. His heart began to pound but he knew he couldn’t look afraid. He stared into the sunken eye sockets of the middle figure and raised his khopesh. He was ready if they decided to attack. “Who are you?” he asked. “Where are you from?” The ghostly man threw back his head and let out a hollow laugh. All of the other dreadful figures started to laugh too. The foul smell grew stronger. It was worse than the smell of fish guts left out to rot in the sun. Then the man stopped laughing and looked straight at Akori.

  “Shhhhh,” he hissed.

  Akori frowned.

  “Shhhen,” the man hissed again.

  Shhhen? Akori glanced at Manu and Ebe but they both looked as puzzled as him.