Descent of the Soul Destroyer

by Dan Hunter

  “What are those things?” Akori asked Manu after the strange figures had passed on towards the hall.

  Manu frowned. “Osiris’s Hall of Judgement is meant to have forty-two wise judges, the Assessors of the Dead, but they don’t look anything like that. My guess is they’re dead souls of some kind. Special ones.”

  After what felt like hours, they had reached the very last sphinx. The entrance to the Hall of Judgement lay only a short sprint away. The entrance was open, but two vast crocodile-headed beasts guarded it, holding giant spears. They were easily ten royal cubits tall. They uncrossed their spears as a masked, cloaked figure approached, letting him in.

  Inside, Akori could just make out Osiris’s throne, surrounded by a gathering crowd of the masked figures. They were all sitting down on benches on either side of the hall, leaving a space in the middle.

  “I think I know what’s going on,” Manu whispered. “Do you remember from the coffin text? The forty-two demons howl around the Hall of Judgement. I think those masked mummies have replaced Osiris’s forty-two judges of the dead!”

  “So where’s Oba?” Akori whispered, gripping his sword hilt in anticipation.

  Manu shrugged. “Maybe he’ll arrive after all the mummies.”

  Akori sighed. “We’re so close. How are we going to get past those sentries?”

  “Fight our way in?” Manu said lamely.

  “Not a hope. Those guardians are enormous! I’m good, but I’m not Montu, God of War, even if I have got his armour on!”

  “We need a plan,” said Manu. “We have to get in there somehow. Once we’re in, then we can surprise them. They won’t be expecting us to have made it this far.”

  “Sssh!” interrupted Akori, seeing a figure approach through the mist. They ducked back behind the statue. Akori watched as a cloaked mummy shuffled past them and into the Hall of Judgement. In an instant, a plan came together in his mind, as easily as if he’d read it on a scroll.

  “There are forty-two judges in all,” he said. “How many are in the hall already?”

  Manu quickly counted them. “Thirty-seven.”

  Akori’s eyes lit up. “So there’s only a few more left to come! Get ready, Manu. I’ve got an idea.”

  They hid and waited until two masked mummies came striding down the walkway. The creatures didn’t spare a glance for any of the stone sphinxes that flanked their route as they approached the Hall. So, when Manu and Akori silently slipped out of their hiding place, they didn’t even turn around.

  There were two soft thumps, followed by the sound of two mummies collapsing, unconscious, to the floor. Akori and Manu quickly dragged them out of sight behind the sphinx. They took the masks, headdresses and cloaks off the stunned mummies and put them on. Ebe darted inside Akori’s floor-length cloak, hiding beside his ankles.

  “How do I look?” Akori said, trying to keep his tone light. But he was so nervous his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest.

  “Terrifying,” said Manu. “Gods, I hope this works!” He glanced down at the maskless mummies. “What do we do with them?”

  Akori kneeled down and peered into their rotting faces. “They should be out of action for a while. Let’s just hope Oba arrives soon. Come on, let’s get inside.”

  They made their way up to the entrance. Through the eyeholes of the golden mask, Akori nervously watched the sentries loom up in front of him. As they turned their heads to look at him, he held his breath and kept walking, forcing himself not to run, not to panic.

  Then, very slowly, the sentries uncrossed their spears. Akori drew a deep breath, and then he, Manu and Ebe entered the Hall of Judgement.

  We’re here at last, Akori thought. The very heart of the Underworld. In just a few moments, Oba will be here. Then the battle to save my kingdom can finally begin!

  Inside the Hall of Judgement, the masked mummies were seated on benches arranged along the sides of the room. Barbarous symbols had been scrawled on the walls, like graffiti, lit by a few, flickering torches. It hurt Akori’s eyes to look at them. At the far end, a throne stood on a dais.

  Manu and Akori walked to the back of the hall, careful not to attract any attention. Beneath his cloak, Akori could feel Ebe slinking along beside him, keeping out of sight. No sooner had they taken their seats, when a masked mummy sat down on the other side of Akori. Carefully, Akori pulled his cloak even closer around him, so the mummy wouldn’t notice how healthy his flesh looked. The mummy’s own flesh was mostly gone, with bones showing through the parchment-thin skin. Beside him, Akori could feel Manu trembling.

  A sudden silence fell upon the room. Oba had entered. Akori’s heart beat faster at the sight of his old enemy. Beneath the folds of his cloak he clenched his fists, adrenalin coursing through his veins. All of the masked mummies stood, and Akori and Manu hurriedly got to their feet, too. Oba strode over to Osiris’s throne and sat down. He waved for the mummies to sit.

  “Commanders of my army,” Oba declared, spreading his arms wide. “Loyal subjects. The hour of our victory is at hand.”

  The mummies began to clap. They sounded like sticks rattling together. Akori was glad to see that none of them were carrying weapons. Obviously, being commanders, they were too high and mighty to do any actual fighting. That might work in their favour, he thought.

  “The time for our invasion of Egypt is fast approaching,” Oba continued. “Mighty Set will remain below to guard the prisoner, Osiris. There have been sightings of that lowly farm boy and his pathetic priest in the City of the Dead. It is only a matter of time before they are crushed once and for all. Meanwhile we will prepare to conquer the upper world. I have assigned each of you a task, which you and your troops must not fail to accomplish.” Oba scowled around the hall. “The penalty for failing me is to be devoured by Ammit!”

  A gasp of horror rippled around the mummies. Akori glanced at Manu and shuddered.

  Oba stood up and began to walk down the central space between the two groups of mummies. “You, General Ankh-af-na-Sutekh, are to burn all the crops south of Thebes. General Thuthmose, you are to despoil the temples of all the Gods who oppose me. I want not one single statue left standing, do you hear?”

  The mummy gave a creaky nod.

  Oba crossed over to Akori’s side of the chamber. “As for you, General Kheti, you will have the honour of leading my personal guard. We will assault Akori’s palace and tear each room apart until we find every traitor who has remained loyal to that peasant!”

  Oba came even closer, within an arm’s length of Akori. “And as for you, General—”

  “Now, Ebe!” Akori yelled.

  Ebe burst out from beneath Akori’s cloak and shifted into her full fighting form. She lashed out on all sides, sending the generals into a screaming panic.

  “Protect me, you fools!” shrieked Oba as they started running in every direction.

  Akori and Manu tore off their disguises, and Akori unsheathed his khopesh. “This is a place of justice, Oba,” he shouted. “Now it’s time for you to pay for what you’ve done!”

  “Akori?” Oba’s voice hissed with pure hatred. “Fool, you challenge me here, at the very seat of my power? Generals, kill him!”

  The masked mummies began to close in on Akori, but he was ready. Calling on the Stone of Speed, he span on the spot like a cyclone. The khopesh became a blinding circle, shedding golden light into the hall.

  As the mummies lunged at him, they were sliced into pieces. Fragments went flying, showering Oba with rotting bits of cloth.

  Nearby, Ebe was smashing through the ranks of generals like an unstoppable force. She fought with fearsome efficiency, clawing the mummies down as if they were granary rats.

  A few of the mummies had closed ranks to protect Oba, but he obviously didn’t have much confidence in them. He was backing away across the hall, screaming orders as he went: “Fools! Idiots! He’s only a boy! Can’t you do something?”

  “You should have picked better commanders, Oba!�
�� Akori yelled. He split one mummy down the middle and kicked another into his comrade’s arms, knocking them both to the floor.

  “I will not be defeated,” Oba shouted. “Not again.”

  Akori advanced on him. “Your time is up, Oba. Give me the Pharaoh Stone.”

  “I do not have it,” Oba replied smugly. “But I know who does. Would you like to meet her?”

  Akori looked at him blankly.

  Oba threw back his head and gave a blood-curdling cackle. “Ammit!” he screamed at the top of his voice. “Devourer of Souls! Come to me! Now!”

  There was a sound like distant thunder. The mummies stopped fighting. Ebe and Manu drew away, slinking to the back of the hall like fearful children.

  The thundering noise grew louder, until it sounded like one hundred galloping feet. The floor shook and the flames of the torches trembled. Even Oba looked terrified by the prospect of what he had summoned.

  “Oh no,” Manu said hollowly. “Not her. Akori, we have to run.”

  But it was much too late for that.

  Into the room stampeded a living nightmare.

  Ammit towered over Akori in all her hideous glory. She had the body of a gigantic hippopotamus, strong, unrelenting and three times the size of any mortal specimen. Her forepaws were those of a lioness, her enormous claws like a row of khopeshs, ready to strike. But her crocodile head was perhaps the most monstrous feature of all. Her green scales were as thick as armour, while her deadly jaws gleamed with razor-sharp teeth. She wore a headdress of bright golden armour that glinted menacingly in the light. As she stopped in front of Akori, a putrid stench flooded the entire hall. She smelled like a corpse that had hauled itself up from a marsh – like the stink of death itself.

  Akori shivered. He had seen many carvings of evil men being swallowed whole by those grinning jaws. He touched the Stone of Courage, to steady his nerves. Instantly, his trembling stopped.

  Manu was not so lucky. As he staggered backwards, overcome by fear, he tripped and fell sprawling across the flagstones. His shaven head struck the floor with a sickening crack.

  “Manu!” Akori ran towards him, but Ammit lunged with her jaws and caught Manu up by the leg. She dangled him from her huge teeth and looked at Oba like a dog waiting to be told it could snap up a treat.

  Oba got back into his throne, threw one leg over the arm and gave Akori a gloating leer. “Back when Osiris was in charge of this place,” he said, “he used to give the dead a fair trial.”

  “I know,” Akori replied coldly. “And if Set hadn’t saved your wretched life, you’d be in Ammit’s belly right now!”

  “I don’t go in for ‘fair trials’ and all that nonsense,” Oba continued.

  “That’s because you’re insane.”

  Oba frowned at Akori. “Shut up.” Then he turned his scornful gaze upon Manu. “I, Pharaoh Oba, Lord of the Underworld, hereby find Manu, Priest of Horus, guilty of being an unbearable know-it-all and pathetic bookworm, who also has the bad taste to count himself a friend of the farm boy, Akori. There is only one punishment for such wickedness! Ammit? Devour him.”

  “Stop!” Akori yelled.

  Ammit looked questioningly at Oba, still holding Manu’s limp body in her jaws.

  “Judge me in his place!” Akori quickly shouted.

  “Oh, such honour,” Oba grinned. “Such loyalty. He offers himself up, in place of his friend!”

  “Do you accept?” Akori demanded.

  “Naturally! Congratulations, idiot. You’ve finally had a good idea for once in your life.” Oba rested his chin on his fist. “I shall now pronounce sentence. Akori, farm boy, upstart, pretender to my throne: I hereby find you guilty of sins too numerous to catalogue, and sentence you to be eaten alive on the spot!” He leaned forward to watch, his eyes shining with evil joy. “Take him, Ammit!”

  Akori prepared to defend himself. Ebe moved to stand by his side, panting, exhausted but still ready to fight alongside him.

  Ammit dropped Manu, turned to Akori and opened her immense jaws wide.

  Something caught the light and glittered for an instant among the jagged fangs at the back of her mouth.

  Akori’s eyes widened. It was a purple stone.

  The last of the Pharaoh Stones!

  With her mouth gaping open like a cave, Ammit charged.

  Akori knew she was going to snap him up as easily as a fly. He couldn’t jump down her throat and cut his way out from within, the way he had with the Guardian of the Gate. Those teeth would crunch him up and kill him in an instant, devouring both his body and soul.

  Akori dived out of Ammit’s way and ran, panting hard, to the other side of the hall.

  Ammit came stumbling to a stop, roared, and turned back. Ebe slashed at her leathery flank, but though her claws cut deep, Ammit didn’t even seem to notice.

  Ammit charged again, snapping her jaws with a sound like a lightning clap. Akori barely got out of the way in time. If he’d been a split second later, his sword arm would have been bitten off at the shoulder. That would end this fight pretty fast, he thought grimly.

  “That’s it! Keep running, you little coward!” Oba crowed from his throne. “Oh, I do hope this lasts for a while. It would be such a pity if it was over too soon!”

  As Ammit scrambled back to face Akori, he thrust his khopesh into her side. The blade bounced straight off. Ammit grunted in annoyance, as if some small insignificant insect had stung her.

  Ebe bounded forwards again and launched herself at Ammit’s hideous face, clawing at her eyes. Ammit bellowed and tossed her head from side to side, eventually flinging Ebe off and sending her tumbling across the floor.

  Akori ran across the room to the pillars at the far side and braced himself for Ammit’s next charge. He racked his brains for some clue, any clue, as to how he could win this fight. Ammit kept snapping at Ebe while she skittered back and forth.

  Ebe’s buying me time, Akori realized. I have to use that time to plan my next move!

  As he watched Ammit’s frustration as she lumbered after elegant Ebe, his mind began to race with new thoughts. Ammit was big, he realized, and powerful, but she wasn’t agile. Once she began to charge, she couldn’t easily stop.

  “Don’t waste time with the stupid cat-thing!” Oba shouted at Ammit. “It’s Akori you’re meant to be devouring, not her! Get on with it!”

  Ammit turned and roared at Oba, clearly angry. Oba shrank back in his throne, looking fearful, then recovered himself. Akori understood then that Ammit wasn’t serving Oba out of choice. Something was forcing her to obey. Could it be the magic of Set?

  He struggled to think how he could possibly win against a beast like Ammit. She was the most fearsome of all the creatures in the Underworld. If his khopesh didn’t even scratch her, how could he beat her? How do you kill the unkillable?

  Then, in a flash, he realized, I don’t have to kill her. I just need to get the Stone!

  Ebe yowled as Ammit raked her with her forepaws.

  “Get back, Ebe,” Akori yelled. “Leave her to me!”

  Ammit turned and looked at him curiously. Then, for the first time, she spoke; and her hissing, echoing voice was horribly familiar.

  “You would refuse your friend’s aid, even though it may mean your death?”

  It was the same voice that had spoken to him in his dream and had whispered the Coffin Text with him as they had crossed over into the Underworld. Akori shuddered with horror as he realized Ammit, the monster at the heart of the Underworld, had been aware of his quest all along. She had been watching him, following his progress; judging him perhaps.

  Akori swallowed. “Yes.”

  “But why?”

  “Oba is right. It’s me you were ordered to devour, not her.”

  Ammit cocked her head. “You are a young man of great honour. It is a shame I must kill you. But I am commanded, and I must obey.”

  “Very well,” Akori said bravely. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Ammit pawe
d the ground like a bull, and charged.

  Akori stood his ground as ten tons of horror came thundering towards him. The pillar’s marble surface was cool against his back. His fingers brushed the Stones of Speed and Strength.

  At the very last moment, he dodged out of the way.

  Ammit couldn’t stop. Her prey had suddenly vanished, and she was charging full tilt. She smashed violently into the colossal pillar. An avalanche of stone came tumbling down upon her. Gigantic white chunks slammed into her body and head. She bellowed in agony.

  Behind her, Akori had landed on both feet, astounded that he was still alive.

  Quickly, he ran to Ammit’s head, pinned under fallen masonry. As she opened her mouth to roar again, he thrust his hand inside and closed his hand upon the purple Stone. One powerful tug tore it free.

  Ammit made a sound like a long sigh of relief. Foul, warm marshy wind from her lungs ruffled Akori’s hair. “At last. Set’s spell is broken. I am free.”

  Hardly able to believe it was finally within his grasp, Akori pushed his cloak aside and pressed the last Pharaoh Stone into place on his armour. A blaze of light streamed out from him so bright and powerful it could only be a thing of legend, a miracle. It blasted the mummies to dust and turned the evil sigils on the wall to crackling ash.

  Oba covered his eyes, screaming in agony: “It can’t beeeeeee!”

  Ammit threw off the fallen masonry that had buried her, shook herself, and stood upright. In the light of the Pharaoh Stones, she looked more majestic than monstrous.

  “Pharaoh.” She smiled. “The prophecy is fulfilled.”

  “What do you mean?” Akori was confused.

  “It was foretold that one day, a Pharaoh would rise who was worthy to bear the five Stones. That day is come. That Pharaoh is you.” She bowed her head. “You have released me from my service to Set and Oba. For that, I will be for ever in your debt. I am yours to command.”