Clash of the Dark Serpent Page 3

  His hope was dashed by a sharp cry behind him. Whirling round, he saw Manu clutching his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. “Manu, you’re hurt,” he cried, starting back towards his friend.

  Ebe twined herself around Manu’s legs, mewing in concern.

  “Stay where you are,” Manu shouted.

  Standing still as a statue, Akori looked into his friend’s eyes – and saw pure fear.

  “The cactus,” Manu hissed. “It…it moved. It stabbed me.”

  Akori frowned. “That’s impossible. You just didn’t see the spike. It must have been an accident.”

  “No…I…look out!”

  Akori saw a sudden movement from the corner of his eye. He watched in horror as, with a horrible creaking sound, the cactus closest to him stretched out an arm. A spike struck his armour. Shaking his head in disbelief, he leaped backwards to protect Manu and Ebe. Even a Goddess would have no protection from these stabbing monsters.

  The cacti closest to them were all moving now: limbs swinging to stab and stab again. Akori struck out with the khopesh, slicing through the dark green arms, but there were always more. One of them lurched forwards, an arm sweeping low. Akori blocked the blow just in time. One false move and he would be stabbed. Behind him, Manu cried out again. Akori swung the khopesh through the air, slashing more spikes, but there were too many. Another spike sliced the back of Manu’s leg. Tears in his eyes, he sank to his knees. Instantly more cacti leaned towards him, like vultures swooping for their prey.

  Akori slashed at them and severed spikes fell like rain. Another cactus leaned in to attack Akori but this time he managed to swerve out of its way and it stabbed another cactus instead. There was the terrible sound of something ripping, almost as if the cactus itself was hissing with pain. Both cacti writhed together, unable to break free.

  Akori felt a sudden surge of hope. “Get ready to follow me,” he called over his shoulder to Manu and Ebe. Then he brandished his khopesh at the next cactus along. The cactus immediately lunged its gnarly arms at him, but Akori ducked and once again, the spikes embedded themselves in the flesh of the cactus next to him.

  “Forward,” Akori commanded and, as the cacti struggled in vain to free themselves, the three friends edged past.

  Slowly they made their way across the courtyard, with Akori using all of his skill with the khopesh to trick the cacti into attacking each other.

  “Akori, you are a genius!” Manu exclaimed, as, one by one, the cacti became stuck together. Ebe purred her agreement. Akori gave a relieved smile as they finally emerged from the courtyard.

  But his relief was soon replaced by a sense of dread. An ugly figure, slouched on a black throne a little way in front of them, began clapping slowly.

  “Very good, farm boy,” Oba sneered. “I’m almost impressed. But don’t get too sure of yourself. You might be able to outwit some dumb plants, but you’ll never outwit me.”

  Akori clutched the hilt of the khopesh until his knuckles were white. His eyes fixed on the demon-boy, Oba.

  Behind him, Manu gasped and Ebe hissed. But Akori hardly heard. He took a step forward, then another. Within a second he was running. “This time not even Set will save you,” he yelled.

  Oba leaned back in his throne, a contemptuous smile on his face.

  Akori raced towards his enemy, his speed increasing with every step. Horus was wrong: he didn’t need the Pharaoh Stones to defeat Oba. Just one swing of the khopesh would do it. “And I’ll wipe that smile off your face,” he yelled, raising his weapon high, preparing to strike.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Oba replied, coolly.

  Akori heard a muffled cry behind him, then the grating of stone on stone and a desperate yowling. He looked around wildly, just in time to see Ebe clawing at the stone beneath her paws. It was sliding open, like a trapdoor. Ebe tried to scramble off but it was too smooth. Before Akori could do anything, she fell through the trapdoor into the darkness below. The door slammed shut.

  Meanwhile, Manu was being held in a vice-like grip, his face contorted with pain. His captor was like nothing Akori had seen before. Its face was haggard and ugly, with leathery skin and an evil grin that stretched from ear to ear. Yellow, slit eyes, like a snake’s, stared at Akori. It had a warrior’s muscular body and wore an iron breastplate and a winged helmet. Around its waist was a dirty white kilt.

  Akori’s shoulders sagged.

  “Meet Mot, one of my demon slaves,” Oba said behind him, answering Akori’s unasked question. Raising his voice, he called out, “Slave, a little more pain.”

  Manu screamed as the demon wrenched his arm behind his back.

  Akori stepped towards them, raising his khopesh.

  “One more step and I’ll order it to rip your friend’s arm off,” Oba hissed.

  His jaw clenched in fury, Akori stopped and turned.

  Oba clapped his hands together, delighted. “And, in case you were wondering, your cat is trapped in a dungeon. I can’t have a Goddess wandering around loose. Even a mangy little Goddess like Bast.”

  Akori didn’t reply. Jaw clenched, he glared at Oba.

  Oba smiled back at him, clearly enjoying every moment. “There is a chance I might let them live, though,” he said.

  With a lazy hand Oba waved at a seega board that had been set up beside his throne. Opposite it was a small wooden stool.

  “How about we play for your pathetic friend’s life?” he continued. “If you win, he keeps his life, but if you lose, he loses his head.”

  “Don’t do it, Akori,” Manu cried. “You can’t trust him.”

  Oba glared and flicked a hand towards the demon slave. Manu’s protests were cut off by fresh screams.

  Horrified, Akori looked from the seega board to Oba. “You’re mad,” he said quietly. “Completely insane.”

  “Your choice,” Oba shrugged. “If you don’t want to play, I’ll have the slave kill him now. It will be fun to watch, don’t you think?”

  Akori heard the demon slave gurgle hungrily. “No!” he shouted. Having no other choice, he crossed quickly to the small stool and sat. “If I win, you’ll let Manu go?” he asked.

  Oba shrugged again. “You won’t win,” he answered. Resting an elbow on the arm of the throne he cupped his chin in one hand and grinned down at Akori. “I hope your stool is comfortable,” he said. “It’s the kind of furniture you farm people are used to, isn’t it?”

  An angry reply formed on Akori’s lips. He bit it back, guessing that Oba was trying to make him lose his temper so that he would play badly. Once again, the old priest’s words came back to him: You must keep your mind cool. See your enemy’s moves before he makes them. A plan began to form in his mind – a way to make Oba lose his cool. “So, you’re playing blue, I’m red?” he asked. “Does that mean you go first?”

  Oba sighed. “No, farm boy, red goes first,” he said. “You do know the rules, don’t you?”

  “I’m just learning,” Akori mumbled. Reaching out, he moved a red stone forward.

  It was a bad move, and he could tell Oba knew it. Moving a blue piece forward, Oba called out to Manu, “I hope you’re not too attached to your head. Your friend might win against the pigs on his farm, but not against a real Pharaoh.”

  Akori felt his anger rising again, and forced it down. Keep calm, keep calm, he repeated to himself. He scratched his head for a moment, pretending to look confused, then moved the same stone forward again.

  “Set’s teeth, you’re even worse than I thought you’d be,” howled Oba. With a click he moved another blue stone forward. Akori’s piece was surrounded on two sides. Crowing with delight, Oba removed it from the board. “You play like the ignorant peasant you really are,” he sneered.

  “Stop saying that. I’m the King of Egypt,” Akori snapped. Reaching out he pushed another piece forward, fury flaring in his eyes.

  The corner of Oba’s mouth twitched. “A real Pharaoh doesn’t just wear a crown,” he said smoothly. “A real Pharao
h wields power. Like I did when I had your uncle killed.”

  Akori felt blood rush to his face. His fists clenched. Keep your mind cool, he reminded himself as Oba moved again. Quickly, he responded with a move of his own, slamming the stone down on the board, trying to make it look as if he was furious.

  Once more, Oba laughed. “Another two pieces to me,” he called out.

  Akori could hear the demon slave licking its lips behind him. Manu groaned.

  Move followed move. Each time Akori pushed a piece forward, Oba laughed in disbelief at his stupidity. Meanwhile Akori pretended to become more and more angry, moving pieces as if at random.

  “You only have eight stones left,” said Oba eventually. “I have all mine. This is getting boring. If you give up now I’ll let your friend die quickly.”

  Frowning, Akori stared directly into Oba’s mocking eyes. Without looking down at the board his finger moved a stone forward gently. “What happens if I do this?” he asked.

  Oba glanced down at the board. A jeer died on his lips. “Impossible,” he whispered.

  “That’s one, two…three blue stones, surrounded, isn’t it?” said Akori, lifting them from the board one by one.

  “A fluke,” snarled Oba, moving again.

  Instantly, Akori moved another stone. This time two of Oba’s disappeared. Akori felt a rush of triumph. His plan had worked. It hadn’t taken much to fool Oba into thinking he was just a stupid farm boy – it was what he already believed. Oba had been so sure he would win that he had forgotten all about strategy, moving his stones in wild attacks and failing to notice that Akori’s angry, random moves were, in fact, building a complicated web of defence across the board.

  “This can’t be happening. It can’t be,” Oba muttered venomously. But it was. There was nowhere left that he could move his stones without falling deeper into Akori’s trap. Blue stone after blue stone was swept from the board until only one was left.

  “Just because I was born on a farm, it doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” said Akori quietly. “And just because you were born in a palace it doesn’t mean you’re clever.” Leaning forward, he moved a red piece, surrounding Oba’s final blue stone. As he did so, it began to glow, pulsing with a glimmering magical light that Akori instantly recognized.

  His jaw dropped open.

  It was a Pharaoh Stone.

  Like a flash, his hand moved to take it.

  But Oba was quicker. Snatching it from the board, he leaped to his feet. “You still lose, farm boy,” he spat. “Did you really think I was going to let your friends live?” Oba turned to the monstrous demon. “Slave, kill them all,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  A scream of agony rang out behind Akori.

  Whirling round, Akori saw Manu struggling in the grip of the demon slave. It stood tall behind him, its face twisted in terrible, ravenous glee. A thin trail of drool ran down its chin as it lifted Manu off his feet, taloned fingers digging into the skin of his shoulder. Its mouth opened to reveal rows of sharp, ripping teeth.

  “Leave him alone,” Akori screamed, already running towards them. With a feeling of sick horror, he saw the creature lick his lips, as if preparing to feast. Akori touched the Stone of Speed. Power flooded into him, but he was too late. He would not reach Manu in time.

  But then the stone floor at the demon slave’s feet shattered with a roar that shook the walls. A huge cat flew out from the dungeon beneath, her razor claws raking across the demon’s face.

  The demon threw Manu to one side and fled from Bast’s attack.

  Akori kneeled beside Manu and took his head in his lap. Manu’s skin was pale and his eyes were closed. “Manu, Manu! Can you hear me?”

  Relief flooded through Akori as Manu’s eyes flickered open. He struggled to sit up, face ashen. “I-I’m all right,” he stuttered. “It looks worse than it is.” Looking into Akori’s eyes, he managed a smile. “You played a great game of seega,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you quick enough,” Akori said.

  Manu snorted. “Don’t be silly, you were too far away. Besides, it’s just a few scratches. Come on, we need to get out of here.”

  They both turned their heads as Bast gave a warning growl.

  More demon slaves were pouring in from every archway, their slit eyes lit up with hunger.

  A slave hurled a spear at Akori. He narrowly avoided it, watching as it pierced the ground with lethal force.

  “What are we going to do?” Manu cried. “There are so many of them.”

  Akori looked at the slaves marching towards them, Manu’s words ringing in his ears. How could they possibly defeat all of the demons? They would never survive such a vast army.

  If you do not think clearly in the Underworld… Well, then you will lose your life. The old priest’s words came back to Akori in a rush. Clear your mind, he told himself. Akori took a deep breath and recited the old priest’s words over and over in his head. He felt a sense of calm flow through him. He looked at the advancing army of demon slaves. Their long, sinewy limbs and razor-sharp claws reminded Akori of the vicious courtyard of cacti. Akori recalled the way the cacti had sliced into each other, rendering them powerless. An idea flashed into his mind, as clear and bright as Ra’s sun-barge.

  “I’ve got it!” he cried, grinning at Manu excitedly.

  “Halt!” he shouted, brandishing his khopesh. The slaves carried on marching towards them.

  “I said, halt!” Akori yelled. “I am the King of all Egypt. I challenge the strongest amongst you to fight me alone.”

  The slaves halted and stared at him through their narrow yellow eyes.

  “Come on. Which one among you is the most fearless fighter? Which one is the most powerful and most worthy of fighting a Pharaoh?”

  Akori held his breath. Next to him, Manu and Ebe stood statue-still as they waited. Two of the demon slaves stepped towards Akori at the same time. Then they turned and stared at each other.

  “What are you doing?” one of them hissed. “I am the strongest here.”

  “You lie!” the other demon snarled. “I am the strongest by far.”

  “No! I am the strongest,” another slave shouted.

  “No, I am,” called another, shoving him out of the way.

  Akori watched with bated breath as the slaves started pushing and shoving. Soon the courtyard rang out with the sound of clashing metal and roars of rage, as, one by one, the slaves began attacking each other with their knives and spears.

  “Akori, that is brilliant!” Manu exclaimed. They watched, amazed, as one by one the demons fell, their muscular bodies disintegrating into dust as they slayed each other. Finally, only one figure remained standing – that of the slave who had attacked Manu. But now its armour was dented and its helmet had disappeared. Holding his khopesh aloft, Akori charged at the slave. Then at the last second, Akori spun in a rapid roundhouse kick that sent the demon crashing against the wall. It slumped to the ground.

  “That’s what you get for hurting my friend!” Akori yelled.

  The demon let out a final gasp, before crumbling to dust in front of Akori’s eyes. He looked around at the rest of the courtyard. The floor was littered with the ashen debris of the slaves.

  “At least Oba will never be able to send these demons to invade Egypt,” he said.

  “That was incredible,” agreed Manu. “But I’m sure Oba has many other servants. That won’t be the last of them.”

  “Even more reason to collect the last two Pharaoh Stones and finish him for good,” said Akori. “Oba had another one with him. A blue stone he used to play seega. I think we should find him – and the Stone – before we look for Apep.”

  “But what about Ra?” asked Manu, frowning.

  Akori bit his lip, thinking carefully. Finally he spoke. “Horus said the quest would never be finished unless I have all five of the Pharaoh Stones. But, as Pharaoh, I have to ensure the safety and well-being of my people. You’re right, Manu. We should look for Ra fi
rst, then find the Stone.”

  Ebe, now the size of a small cat again, was sitting at Manu’s feet, calmly washing the demon dust from her fur. Looking up, she mewed softly.

  “Ebe agrees,” said Akori, smiling at his friends. But his smile soon faded as he thought of what lay ahead of them. “Are you certain that Apep can only be defeated by a God of equal power?” he asked.

  Manu nodded gravely.

  Akori gritted his teeth. “Well, as long as we save Ra and get the fourth Pharaoh Stone we will have achieved all that we need to. We don’t need to defeat Apep. You said he could be found close by. Do you know the way?”

  Manu shook his head. “No, but there are instructions on Thoth’s scroll that Horus gave us.” He unrolled the scroll and stared down at it. “It isn’t too far from the palace. Look, we just need to find this pathway and it should lead us right to it.”

  Akori looked over Manu’s shoulder at the scroll. Sure enough, it said that a curving, narrow path stretched to the east of the palace to Apep’s lair.

  “Let’s go,” Manu said, wincing slightly as he rolled the scroll back up.

  “We’re not going anywhere until I’ve done something about your wounds,” Akori said firmly. “Here, let me look at them.”

  Once Akori had examined Manu’s injuries, he tore a strip from the bottom of Manu’s tunic and wrapped it round his shoulder like a bandage. “That should do till we get back to the palace,” he said.

  Manu stood up, looking a lot better than he had a few minutes before. “Thanks,” he said with a smile. “Now we really have to go.”

  Akori looked around as they left Oba’s palace. Ahead stretched a featureless desert plain – the sand was as white as salt.

  “Bones,” Manu whispered, taking a crunching step. “The ground is covered with bones. That’s why it’s so white.”