The Throne of Fire (Kane Chronicles #2)(82)

I found myself in the Hall of Ages, in front of the pharaoh’s throne. Between the columns on either side, holographic images shimmered. Just as Sadie had described, the edge of the magic curtain was turning from red to deep purple —indicating a new age. The images in purple were hard to make out, but I thought I saw two figures grappling in front of a burning chair.

“Yes,” said the voice of Horus. “The battle approaches.”

He appeared in a ripple of light, standing on the steps of the dais where the Chief Lector usually sat. He was in human form, a muscular young man with bronze skin and a shaved head. Jewels glinted on his leather battle armor, and his khopesh hung at his side. His eyes gleamed—one gold, one silver.

“How did you get here?” I asked. “Isn’t this place shielded against gods?”

“I’m not here, Carter. You are. But we were once joined. I am an echo in your mind—the part of Horus that never left you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just listen. Your situation has changed. You stand on the threshold of greatness.”

He pointed at my chest. I looked down and realized I wasn’t in my usual ba form. Instead of a bird, I was a human, dressed like Horus in Egyptian armor. In my hands were the crook and flail.

“These aren’t mine,” I said. “They were buried with Zia.”

“They could be yours,” Horus said. “They are the symbols of the pharaoh—like staff and wand, only a hundred times more powerful. Even with no practice, you were able to channel their power. Imagine what we could do together.” He gestured to the empty throne. “You could unite the House of Life as its leader. We could crush our enemies.”

I won’t deny: part of me felt a thrill. Months ago, the idea of being a leader scared me to death. Now things had changed. My own understanding of magic had grown. I’d spent three months teaching and turning our initiates into a team. I understood the threat we were facing more clearly, and I was beginning to understand how to channel the power of Horus without being overwhelmed. What if Horus was right, and I could lead the gods and magicians against Apophis? I liked the idea of smashing our enemies, getting back at the forces of Chaos that had turned our lives upside down.

Then I remembered the way Zia had looked at me when I was about to kill Vlad Menshikov—like I was the monster. I remembered what Desjardins had said about the bad old days when magician fought magician. If Horus was an echo in my mind, maybe I was being affected by his desire to rule. I knew Horus well now. He was a good guy in many ways—brave, honorable, righteous. But he was also ambitious, greedy, jealous, and single-minded when it came to his goals. And his biggest desire was to rule the gods.

“The crook and flail belong to Ra,” I said. “We have to wake him.”

Horus tilted his head. “Even though Apophis wants that to happen? Even though Ra is weak and old? I warned you about the divisions between the gods. You saw how Nekhbet and Babi tried to take matters into their own hands. The strife will only get worse. Chaos feeds on weak leaders, divided loyalties. That’s what Vladimir Menshikov is after.”

The Hall of Ages trembled. Along either wall, the curtain of purple light expanded. As the holographic scene widened, I could tell that the chair was a fiery throne, like the one Sadie had described in her vision of Ra’s boat. Two shadowy figures were locked in combat, grappling like wrestlers, but I couldn’t tell if they were trying to push each other into the chair, or trying to keep each other out of it.

“Did Menshikov really try to destroy the Book of Ra?” I asked.

Horus’s silver eye glinted. It always seemed a little brighter than his golden one, which made me feel disoriented, like the whole world was listing to one side. “Like most things Menshikov says, it was a partial truth. He once believed as you do. He thought he could bring back Ra and restore Ma’at. He imagined himself as the high priest of a glorious new temple, even more powerful than his ancestors. In his pride, he thought he could reconstruct the Book of Ra from the one scroll in his possession. He was wrong. Ra had taken great pains not to be wakened. The curses on the scroll burned Menshikov’s eyes. Sun fire seared his throat because he dared to read the words of the spell. After that, Menshikov turned bitter. At first he plotted to destroy the Book of Ra, but he did not have the power. Then he hit upon a new plan. He would awaken Ra, but for revenge. That’s what he’s been waiting for, all these years. That’s why he wants you to collect the scrolls and reconstruct the Book of Ra. Menshikov wants to see the old god swallowed by Apophis. He wants to see the world plunged into darkness and chaos. He is quite insane.”

“Oh.”

[Great response, I know. But what do you say to a story like that?]

On the dais next to Horus, the empty throne of the pharaoh seemed to undulate in the purple light. That chair had always intimidated me. Long ago, the pharaoh had been the most powerful ruler in the world. He had controlled an empire that lasted twenty times longer than my own country, the U.S., had existed. How could I be worthy of sitting there?

“You can do it, Carter,” Horus urged. “You can take control. Why take the risk of summoning Ra? Your sister will have to read the Book, you know. You saw what happened to Menshikov when just one scroll backfired. Can you imagine if three times that much power is unleashed on your sister?”

My mouth went dry. Bad enough I’d let Sadie go off to find the last scroll without me. How could I let her take a risk that might scar her like Vlad the Inhaler, or worse?