Shadow Fall (33 page)

The commander went pale beneath his tactical helmet. “Understood. We’ll give you a wide berth, sir.”

“Kira!” Khefar shouted from the door opening to the burial chamber.

Kira nodded to acknowledge, but kept her focus on the corner. She looked composed, but he’d seen her scream wordlessly, saw the sweat beading on her forehead.

He had to get her out of there.

“I’m using the Dagger, Kira. I don’t know the effect it will have on the force field. Retreat as far back as you can.”

Kira moved to the northwest corner, her eyes glowing with power and rounded with fear. Sand sprinkled down from the ceiling, clogging the air.

Khefar lifted his dagger. “I call upon Atum, creator and destroyer. Give me your power!”

He slammed the ancient blade into the invisible barrier with all his might. The shield shattered with a shock wave preceding an explosion of boiling red light, a rush of pressure that nearly felled him. Sand began to fall like heavy rain, quickly covering the chamber floor.

Blinking to clear his vision, Khefar stepped into the chamber, blade ready as he recited the spell. “O you waxen one who takes by robbery and who lives on the inert ones, I will not be inert for you, I will not be weak for you.”

Kira slipped through the sand to his side as the serpent slithered out of the darkness, forked tongue testing the air. It was smaller than he’d expected, but that was like saying an elephant was small compared to a mastodon. The snake was still huge—its girth equal to a man’s. Khefar had no idea how long it actually was, but from the thrashing and slithering sounds it made, there were plenty of coils to cause him trouble.

He thrust Kira behind him. “Give me room to fight, woman!”

She clambered atop the sarcophagus, brandishing the khopesh. The others crowded the door but didn’t come inside, for which Khefar was grateful. The burial chamber simply wasn’t big enough for all of them to fight in.

Apep lifted its triangular head, yellow eyes glowing as it tried to determine which of them was the greater threat. Khefar raised his blade. “Your poison shall not enter into my members, for my members are the members of Atum. If I am not weak for you, suffering from you shall not enter into these members of mine.”

The serpent hissed, the only warning Khefar had. It struck lightning fast. Khefar dodged left, spinning to leap onto the giant snake behind the massive head and dripping fangs. It reacted immediately, coils slithering as it slammed him into the floor.

He grimly held on, fighting blows that threatened to leave him dazed. For all that it was a snake, it was a magical one, a serpent that had threatened the Lord of the Gods. Kira screamed in wordless rage, a sound that drove him back to his feet. He saw her swing the khopesh at Apep, the blade failing to mar the glittering hide. But her wild swings served to distract the reptile, allowing Khefar to hang on as the serpent tried to free itself enough to turn its head to bite him.

“Khefar, watch out!”

It was time to end this. Khefar plunged the dagger into the back of the writhing snake’s head. “Earth, devour that which has come forth from thee. Monster, lie down, glide away!”

The giant serpent thrashed, throwing up clouds of sand. It froze and seemed to fold in on itself, collapsing down to nothingness.

Khefar sucked in a sandy breath, wincing as his ribs protested. Being slammed to the ground by a magical serpent had probably given him a couple of cracked ribs. The pain was worth it, though, to get Kira back.

“Kira? You okay?”

No answer.

Alarmed, Khefar climbed to his feet, wiping sand from his eyes. The sarcophagus no longer glowed. Instead, the false door set into the western wall emitted a soft golden light that faded as he watched.

Kira was gone.

K
ira shouted in triumph as Khefar thrust the Dagger of Kheferatum into Apep’s head, chanting the last of the spell.

Time slowed. The sarcophagus’s glow winked out. Light brightened behind her. She turned and saw that golden light emanated from the false door. The door between the worlds of the living and the dead. The door bearing praises to Set.

Oh, hell no.
Sand poured from a fissure in the ceiling above her like an hourglass filling. It rained down around her, pooling atop the sarcophagus and reducing hearing and visibility to zero. Kira closed her eyes to slits but that did little to prevent sand granules from stinging her eyes. She threw up her forearm to block the brunt of the sand, trying to feel her way forward.

A thick disintegrating coil whipped at her, throwing her backward. She flailed out, the shifting sand upsetting her balance. She tried to call out to Khefar, but sand clogged her throat.

Coughing, spluttering, she fell back, passing through the glowing doorway. A roaring sound filled her ears, as if she’d stepped into a wind tunnel. She tried to orient herself, find the other side of the doorway so that she could return to Khefar. Fighting the vortex of chaotic power proved futile, making her gag as it pushed wrongly along her nerve endings. Finally she broke through.

And realized she wasn’t in Atlanta anymore.

The absence of sound was almost as loud as the sound itself.

Unfortunately the effects of the sand-filled maelstrom muffled the sound of her assailant approaching until it was almost too late. She dodged too slowly to completely miss the blow, absorbing the impact with her collarbone instead of the back of her skull. The second hit to the back of her knees dropped her like a sack of potatoes. She fell hard to the ground but rolled with it, grimacing against the pain. Stupid, to get caught so easily!

“Hiya, Kira.” Marit kicked her once more. “So nice to see you again. I would ask you how you’re doing, but I think I can guess.”

“Gods damn it! Can I not get rid of you?”

“Funny.” Marit bared her teeth. “I asked myself the same thing about you.”

“Children, play nice.”

Kira looked up. She was in the Hall of Judgment, but it wasn’t like any previous version she had experienced before. Instead of Osiris, Set sat upon the gilded throne, the
was
scepter gripped in his hand. Neither Isis or Nepthys, his wife, stood behind him. A young woman with glowing gold eyes stood next to the throne instead, one hand upon the shoulder of the Egyptian god of chaos and storms.

“Welcome, child of mine.”

Fear coated Kira’s stomach with bile as Set’s multifaceted voice rumbled over her. “I am not your child. I belong to the Lady of Truth.”

“You have been shown the truth, that you are a child of Shadow. Since you claim to be a sworn follower of Truth, it is foolish to deny that which stares you in the face.”

“No.”

“Come now, child,” the Lady of Shadows said after clucking her tongue. “Is that any way to talk to your grandfather?”

While Set’s presence scared her and tied her tongue, Myshael, looking so much like a younger version of Balm, only angered her. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, she rolled to a sitting position, the khopesh still in her hand. “You’re confusing yourself with your sister, Lady of Shadows. I am not your child. Now, tell me how to release those souls.”

Myshael sighed. “You really are hardheaded and foolish, aren’t you?” the Lady of Shadows said. “You already know what you have to do to save those people.”

“I’m not giving in to you,” Kira declared, clenching her teeth against pain as she regained her feet. “I’d rather die than give myself to Shadow!”

“Of course you would. That would be the easy way out. But you don’t get easy. There’s no fun in easy. You will submit, willingly. Even if I have to beat submission into you. Consider it tough love.”

She wouldn’t get a better chance. Kira charged the throne. Set held up his free hand. The air in front of him flashed with yellow-gold power. Kira careened off another invisible shield, stumbling back several paces.

“You think to defeat me? Me? A god?”

Kira’s knees unhinged as the god rose to his feet, the
was
scepter glowing as he lifted it. The Lady of Shadows she didn’t fear, but Set, the bad boy of her pantheon, caused her knees to give way in pure, abject terror.

“You are of my line,” the Egyptian god of storms said, his voice a rumble of thunder. His eyes blazed lightning-yellow. “Your mother and your father descended through me.”

Shock raced through Kira’s system. She’d expected something like that, but still, to hear it was almost too much. Her mother’s family had turned their back on their heritage. Did it happen when worshipping Set was no longer a good idea?

“You will learn what you need to learn to accept your fate, Hand of Ma’at. You will feel the power that is the Hand of Set, and you will know.”

Marit stepped forward, accepting the power rod from Set with more decorum than Kira had seen the woman display before. When she turned to face Kira, Kira could clearly sense Set’s power transferring to the Shadow Adept. Marit spun the staff, her movements indicating that she had more than a passing familiarity with using the
was
scepter. “Hey, sis, I think you owe me a hand. Wonder if Lord Set will give you another hand like he did me.”

Crap. Marit spun the
was
scepter, her face alive with chaotic delight. The power rod was twice as long as the khopesh Kira held, and glowed with Shadow magic. Still, the hooked blade of the khopesh was a formidable weapon in its own right, provided one knew how to use it. Thanks to Khefar and their daily training sessions, Kira did.

Marit swung the staff overhead. Kira blocked it easily with the flat of the khopesh, feeling the blow reverberate up her arms. The opposing powers flared, casting a shower of sparks.

The Shadow Adept thrust forward with the twin tines of the power rod aiming for the center of Kira’s chest. Kira rotated her wrist, hooking the curved end of the khopesh around the staff. Again power sparked incandescent green. Marit whipped the other end of the staff around, landing a blow to Kira’s already abused side.

“What’s the matter, Shadowchaser?” Marit taunted. “Why don’t you pull that fancy blade of yours? What are you scared of?”

Kira gritted her teeth against the anger that spiked deep inside her. Marit couldn’t know about her fears concerning her Lightblade, or her father’s dagger. A knowing glint in the Shadow Adept’s eyes, though, made her wonder. Set and the Lady of Shadows had returned to their places on the raised dais, looking on in amusement as she and Marit fought. Dammit, she wouldn’t be a pawn for their pleasure!

Kira swung the khopesh like a sickle, her ribs protesting the movements she demanded of her body. Marit faked a jab with the end of the staff, the twin points aiming for Kira’s torso. Kira bent backward to avoid the swing of the scepter, her beaten torso protesting the quick movement. She spun, thrusting with the hooked blade, rewarded with a grunt of pain from the Shadow Adept. Kira then stumbled backward, putting some distance between her and Marit, trying to catch her breath and banish the stars dancing before her eyes.

“You’ve wanted the truth,” Marit sneered. “All your life, or so you claim. I’m here, telling you the truth, and you don’t want to believe it.” The dark-haired woman laughed. “That’s irony for you.”

“If you think I’m going to believe someone who’s been trying to kill me, you’re out of your ever-lovin’ mind,” Kira said, balancing the khopesh with both hands. The longer Marit talked, the longer Kira had to catch her breath.

Marit laughed. “You may be right. I may be crazy. But I’m keeping it real, all in the family, so to speak.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s nothing more brutally honest than someone trying to kill you. Really, though, I haven’t been trying all that hard.”

Kira glanced down at the blood staining her hands. “What do you call this, then?”

“Getting your attention. Mommy and Daddy tend to be rather harsh when it comes to disciplining their wayward children.”

“Trying to understand someone as psychotic as you is tiring. Can we get back to beating each other’s brains out while I still have some energy?”

Marit stomped her foot. “You’re always spoiling my fun. Really, I have no idea why Mom and Dad want to claim you.”

“That’s something we can both agree on,” Kira panted. “So why don’t we stop and you help me free those souls and we call it a day?”

Marit laughed. “Sure, and afterward we can go out shopping and have tea. Make it a supernatural Girl’s Night Out.” The Shadow Adept shook her head. “Unlike you, I’m obedient to the Lady who saved me. I do what she wants me to do.”

“And what, exactly, is it that she wants you to do?”

“This.”

Marit moved faster than Kira had expected, sweeping the
was
scepter at Kira’s knees. Kira attempted to jump over the swinging staff, but her feet got tangled. She fell, hard, the impact stealing her breath. The
was
scepter burned with power as Marit sent the khopesh flying. Before Kira could reach for her Lightblade, Marit jammed the
was
scepter into her shoulder. The protective shielding of the tactical vest fizzled out like an electrical short, blown away by the surge of Shadow magic. Then the tines of the staff of power pierced her flesh.

She screamed. Pain. Agonizing, unrelenting pain, pain so excruciating she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than pray for death so the pain could stop. It pushed with every heartbeat, as if her skin were peeling off inch by rending inch.

Brilliant lemon-yellow light crashed into brilliant lapis blue power, swirling emerald green, changing to spring green. Still the pain continued, boiling through her system.

The Lady of Shadows leaned over her, Myshael’s young face stretched by a gleeful grin. “Unfortunately for you, Kira Solomon, this won’t kill you. It will, however, make you wish you were dead.”

Kira’s hands flailed impotently. “Go to hell, bitch.”

Myshael laughed. “Ooh, was that supposed to scare me? You know I created it, right? With a lot of help from fearful believers in the Dark Ages. Ah, the Dark Ages. Now, that was a party.”