Rick Riordan - The Kane Chronicles 02 - Throne of Fire

by Riordan, Rick

  “It’s not your fault.” Bes held out his hand like he wanted to shake, but when their fingers touched, he clasped hers. “Tawaret, it was never your fault.”

  She sniffled. “Oh, Bes…”

  “Wheee!” Ra interrupted as the shabti set him in the boat. “See zebras! Wheee!”

  Bes cleared his throat.

  Tawaret let go of his hands. “You—you should go. Perhaps Aaru will provide an answer.”

  “Aaru?” I asked. “Who’s that?”

  Tawaret didn’t exactly smile, but her eyes softened with kindness. “Not who, my dear. Where. It’s the Seventh House. Tell your father hello.”

  My spirits lifted just a little. “Dad will be there?”

  “Good luck, Carter and Sadie.” Tawaret kissed us both on the cheek, which felt sort of like getting sideswiped by a friendly, bristly, slightly moist blimp.

  The goddess looked at Bes, and I was sure she was going to cry. Then she turned and hurried up the steps, her shabti behind her.

  “Weasels are sick,” Ra said thoughtfully.

  On that bit of godly wisdom, we boarded the ship. The glowing crew lights manned the oars, and the sun boat pulled away from the docks.

  “Eat.” Ra began gumming a piece of rope.

  “No, you can’t eat that, you old git,” Sadie chided.

  “Uh, kid?” Bes said. “Maybe you shouldn’t call the king of the gods an old git.”

  “Well, he is,” Sadie said. “Come on, Ra. Come into the tent. I want to see something.”

  “No tent,” he muttered. “Zebras.”

  Sadie tried to grab his arm, but he crawled away from her and stuck out his tongue. Finally she took the pharaoh’s crook from my belt (without asking, of course) and waved it like a dog bone. “Want the crook, Ra? Nice tasty crook?”

  Ra grabbed for it weakly. Sadie backed up and eventually managed to coax Ra into the pavilion. As soon as he reached the empty dais, a brilliant light exploded around him, completely blinding me.

  “Carter, look!” Sadie cried.

  “I wish I could.” I blinked the yellow spots out of my eyes.

  On the dais stood a chair of molten gold, a fiery throne carved with glowing white hieroglyphs. It looked just like Sadie had described from her vision, but in real life it was the most beautiful and terrifying piece of furniture I’d ever seen. The crew lights buzzed around it in excitement, brighter than ever.

  Ra didn’t seem to notice the chair, or he didn’t care. His hospital gown had changed into regal robes with a collar of gold, but he still looked like the same withered old man.

  “Have a seat,” Sadie told him.

  “Don’t wanna chair,” he muttered.

  “That was almost a complete sentence,” I said. “Maybe it’s a good sign?”

  “Zebras!” Ra grabbed the crook from Sadie and hobbled across the deck, yelling, “Wheee! Wheee!”

  “Lord Ra!” Bes called. “Careful!”

  I considered tackling the sun god before he could fall out of the boat, but I didn’t know how the crew would react to that. Then Ra solved our problem for us. He smacked into the mast and crumpled to the deck.

  We all rushed forward, but the old god seemed only dazed.

  He drooled and muttered as we dragged him back into the pavilion and set him on his throne. It was tricky, because the throne gave off heat of about a thousand degrees, and I didn’t want to catch fire (again); but the heat didn’t seem to bother Ra.

  We stepped back and looked at the king of the gods, slumped in his chair snoring, and cradling his crook like a teddy bear. I placed the war flail across his lap, hoping it might make a difference—maybe complete his powers or something. No such luck.

  “Sick weasels,” Ra muttered.

  “Behold,” Sadie said bitterly. “The glorious Ra.”

  Bes shot her an irritated look. “That’s right, kid. Make fun. We gods just love to have mortals laughing at us.”

  Sadie’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Bes. I didn’t mean—”

  “Whatever.” He stormed to the prow of the boat.

  Sadie gave me a pleading look. “Honestly, I didn’t—”

  “He’s just stressed,” I told her. “Like all of us. It’ll be okay.”

  Sadie brushed a tear from her cheek. “The world is about to end, we’re stuck in the Duat, and you think it’ll be okay?”

  “We’re going to see Dad.” I tried to sound confident, even though I didn’t feel it. A general never shows despair. “He’ll help us.”

  We sailed through the Lake of Fire until the shores narrowed, and the flaming current turned back into water. The glow of the lake faded behind us. The river got swifter, and I knew we’d entered the Fifth House.

  I thought about Dad, and whether or not he’d really be able to help us. The last few months he’d been strangely silent.

  I guess that shouldn’t have surprised me, since he was the Lord of the Underworld now. He probably didn’t get good cell phone reception down here. Still, the idea of seeing him at the moment of my biggest failure made me nervous.

  Even though the river was dark, the throne of fire was almost too bright to look at. Our boat cast a warm glow over the shores.

  On either side of the river, ghostly villages appeared out of the gloom. Lost souls ran to the riverbank to watch us pass. After so many millennia in the darkness, they looked stunned to see the sun god. Many tried to shout for joy, but their mouths made no sound. Others stretched out their arms toward Ra. They smiled as they basked in his warm light. Their forms seemed to solidify. Color returned to their faces and their clothes. As they faded behind us in the darkness, I was left with the image of their grateful faces and outstretched hands.

  Somehow that made me feel better. At least we’d shown them the sun one last time before Chaos destroyed the world.

  I wondered if Amos and our friends were still alive, defending Brooklyn House against Vlad Menshikov’s attack squad and waiting for us to show up. I wished I could see Zia again, if only to apologize for failing her.

  The Fifth and Sixth houses passed quickly, though I couldn’t be sure how much time actually went by. We saw more ghost villages, beaches made of bones, entire caverns where winged ba flew around in confusion, bonking into walls and swarming the sun boat like moths around a porch light. We navigated some scary rapids, though the glowing crew lights made it look easy. A few times dragonlike monsters rose out of the river, but Bes yelled, “Boo!” and the monsters whimpered and sank beneath the water. Ra slept through it all, snoring fitfully on his burning throne.

  Finally the river slowed and widened. The water turned as smooth as melted chocolate. The sun boat entered a new cavern, and the ceiling overhead blazed with blue crystals, reflecting Ra’s light so it looked like the regular sun was crossing a brilliant blue sky. Marsh grass and palm trees lined the shore. Farther away, rolling green hills were dotted with cozy-looking white adobe cottages. A flock of geese flew overhead. The air smelled like jasmine and fresh-baked bread. My whole body relaxed—the way you might feel after a long trip, when you walk into your house and finally get to collapse on your bed.

  “Aaru,” Bes announced. He didn’t sound as grumpy now. The worry lines on his face faded. “The Egyptian afterlife. The Seventh House. I suppose you’d call it Paradise.”

  “Not that I’m complaining,” Sadie said. “It’s much nicer than Sunny Acres, and I smell decent food at last. But does this mean we’re dead?”

  Bes shook his head. “This was a regular part of Ra’s nightly route—his pit stop, I guess you’d say. He would hang out for a while with his host, eat, drink, and rest up before the last stretch of his journey, which was the most dangerous.”

  “His host?” I asked, though I was pretty sure whom Bes meant.

  Our boat turned toward a dock, where a man and a woman stood waiting for us. Dad wore his usual brown suit. His skin glowed with a bluish tint. Mom shimmered in ghostly white, her feet not quite touching the boards.<
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  “Of course,” Bes said. “This is the House of Osiris.”

  “Sadie, Carter.” Dad pulled us into a hug like we were still little kids, but neither of us protested.

  He felt solid and human, so much like his old self that it took all my willpower not to break down in tears. His goatee was neatly trimmed. His bald head gleamed. Even his cologne smelled the same: the faint scent of amber.

  He held us at arm’s length to examine us, his eyes shining. I could almost believe he was still a regular mortal, but if I looked closely, I could see another layer to his appearance, like a fuzzy superimposed image: a blue-skinned man in white robes and the crown of a pharaoh. Around his neck was a djed amulet, the symbol of Osiris.

  “Dad,” I said. “We failed.”

  “Shhh,” he said. “None of that. This is a time to rest and renew.”

  Mom smiled. “We’ve been watching your progress. You’ve both been so brave.”

  Seeing her was even harder than seeing Dad. I couldn’t hug her because she had no physical substance, and when she touched my face, it felt like nothing more than a warm breeze. She looked exactly as I remembered—her blond hair loose around her shoulders, her blue eyes full of life—but she was only a spirit now. Her white dress seemed to be woven from mist. If I looked directly at her, she seemed to dissolve in the light of the sun boat.

  “I’m so proud of you both,” she said. “Come, we’ve prepared a feast.”

  I was in a daze as they led us ashore. Bes took charge of carrying the sun god, who seemed in a good mood after head-butting the mast and taking a nap. Ra gave everyone a toothless grin and said, “Oh, pretty. Feast? Zebras?”

  Ghostly servants in Ancient Egyptian clothes ushered us toward an outdoor pavilion lined with life-size statues of the gods. We crossed a footbridge over a moat full of albino crocodiles, which made me think about Philip of Macedonia, and what might be happening back at Brooklyn House.

  Then I stepped inside the pavilion, and my jaw dropped.

  A feast was spread out on a long mahogany table—our old dining table from the house in L.A. I could even see the notch I’d carved in the wood with my first Swiss Army knife—the only time I recall my dad getting really mad at me. The chairs were stainless steel with leather seats, just like I remembered; and when I looked outside, the view shimmered back and forth —now the grassy hills and glittering blue sky of the afterlife, now the white walls and huge glass windows of our old house.

  “Oh…” Sadie said in a small voice. Her eyes were fixed on the center of the table. Among platters of pizza, bowls of sugarcoated strawberries, and every other kind of food you could imagine was a white-and-blue ice-cream cake, the exact same cake that we’d exploded on Sadie’s sixth birthday.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Mom said. “I thought it was a shame you never got to taste it. Happy birthday, Sadie.”

  “Please, sit.” Dad spread his arms. “Bes, old friend, would you put Lord Ra at the head of the table?”

  I started to sit in the chair farthest from Ra, since I didn’t want him slobbering all over me while he gummed his food, but Mom said, “Oh, not there, dear. Sit by me. That chair is for…another guest.”

  She said the last two words like they left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  I looked around the table. There were seven chairs and only six of us. “Who else is coming?”

  “Anubis?” Sadie asked hopefully.

  Dad chuckled. “Not Anubis, though I’m sure he’d be here if he could.”

  Sadie slumped as if someone had let the air out of her. [Yes, Sadie, you were that obvious.]

  “Where is he, then?” she asked.

  Dad hesitated just long enough for me to sense his discomfort. “Away. Let’s eat, shall we?”

  I sat down and accepted a slice of birthday cake from a ghostly waiter. You wouldn’t think I’d be hungry, with the world ending and our mission failed, sitting in the Land of the Dead at a dinner table from my past with my mom’s ghost next to me and my dad the color of a blueberry. But my stomach didn’t care about that. It let me know that I was still alive, and I needed food. The cake was chocolate with vanilla ice cream. It tasted perfect. Before I knew it, I’d polished off my slice and was loading my plate with pepperoni pizza. The statues of the gods stood behind us—Horus, Isis, Thoth, Sobek—all keeping silent watch as we ate. Outside the pavilion, the lands of Aaru spread out as if the cavern were endless—green hills and meadows, herds of fat cattle, fields of grain, orchards full of date trees. Streams cut the marshes into a patchwork of islands, just like the Nile Delta, with picture-perfect villages for the blessed dead. Sailboats cruised the river.

  “This is what it looks like to the Ancient Egyptians,” Dad said, as if reading my thoughts. “But each soul sees Aaru slightly differently.”

  “Like our house in L.A.?” I asked. “Our family back together around a dining table? Is this even real?”

  Dad’s eyes turned sad, the way they used to whenever I’d ask about Mom’s death.

  “The birthday cake is good, eh?” he asked. “My little girl, thirteen. I can’t believe—”

  Sadie swept her plate off the table. It shattered against the stone floor. “What does it matter?” she shouted. “The bloody sundial—the stupid gates—we failed!”

  She buried her face in her arms and began to sob.

  “Sadie.” Mom hovered next to her like a friendly fog bank. “It’s all right.”

  “Moon pie,” Ra said helpfully, a beard of cake frosting smeared around his mouth. He started to fall out of his chair, and Bes pushed him back into place.

  “Sadie’s right,” I said. “Ra’s in worse shape than we imagined. Even if we could get him back to the mortal world, he could never defeat Apophis—unless Apophis laughs to death.”

  Dad frowned. “Carter, he is still Ra, pharaoh of the gods. Show some respect.”

  “Don’t like bubbles!” Ra swatted at a glowing servant light that was trying to wipe his mouth.

  “Lord Ra,” Dad said, “do you remember me? I’m Osiris. You dined here at my table every night, resting before your journey toward the dawn. Do you recall?”

  “Want a weasel,” Ra said.

  Sadie slapped the table. “What does that even mean?”

  Bes scooped up a fistful of chocolate-covered things—I was afraid they might be grasshoppers—and tossed them into his mouth. “We haven’t finished the Book of Ra. We’d need to find Khepri.”

  Dad stroked his goatee. “Yes, the scarab god, Ra’s form as the rising sun. Perhaps if you found Khepri, Ra could be fully reborn. But you would need to pass through the gates of the Eighth House.”

  “Which are closed,” I said. “We’d have to, like, reverse time.”

  Bes stopped munching grasshoppers. His eyes widened like he’d just had a revelation. He looked at my dad incredulously. “Him? You invited him?”

  “Who?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

  I stared at my dad, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Dad, what is it?” I demanded. “There’s a way through the gates? Can you teleport us to the other side or something?”

  “I wish I could, Carter. But the journey must be followed. It is part of Ra’s rebirth. I can’t interfere with that. However, you’re right: you need extra time. There might be a way, though I’d never suggest it if the stakes weren’t so high—”

  “It’s dangerous,” our mom warned. “I think it’s too dangerous.”

  “What’s too dangerous?” Sadie asked.

  “Me, I suppose,” said a voice behind me.

  I turned and found a man standing with his hands on the back of my chair. Either he’d approached so silently, I hadn’t heard him, or he’d materialized out of thin air.

  He looked about twenty, thin and tall and kind of glamorous. His face was totally human, but his irises were silver. His head was shaven except for a glossy black ponytail on one side of his head, like Ancient Egyptian youth used to wear. His silvery
suit looked to have been tailored in Italy (I only know that because Amos and my dad both paid a lot of attention to suits). The fabric shimmered like some bizarre mix of silk and aluminum foil. His shirt was black and collarless, and several pounds of platinum chains hung around his neck. The biggest piece of bling was a silver crescent amulet. When his fingers drummed on the back of my chair, his rings and platinum Rolex flashed. If I’d seen him in the mortal world, I might’ve guessed he was a young Native American billionaire casino owner. But here in the Duat, with that crescent-shaped amulet around his neck…

  “Moon pie!” Ra cackled with delight.

  “You’re Khonsu,” I guessed. “The moon god.”

  He gave me a wolfish grin, looking at me as if I were an appetizer.

  “At your service,” he said. “Care to play a game?”

  “Not you,” Bes growled.

  Khonsu spread his arms in a big air hug. “Bes, old buddy! How’ve you been?”

  “Don’t ‘old buddy’ me, you scam artist.”

  “I’m hurt!” Khonsu sat down on my right and leaned toward me conspiratorially. “Poor Bes gambled with me ages ago, you see. He wanted more time with Bast. He wagered a few feet of his height. I’m afraid he lost.”

  “That’s not what happened!” Bes roared.

  “Gentlemen,” my father said in his sternest Dad tone. “You are both guests at my table. I won’t have any fighting.”

  “Absolutely, Osiris.” Khonsu beamed at him. “I’m honored to be here. And these are your famous children? Wonderful! Are you ready to play, kids?”

  “Julius, they don’t understand the risks,” our mother protested. “We can’t let them do this.”

  “Hang on,” Sadie said. “Do what, exactly?”

  Khonsu snapped his fingers, and all the food on the table disappeared, replaced by a glowing silver senet board. “Haven’t you heard about me, Sadie? Didn’t Isis tell you some stories? Or Nut? Now, there was a gambler! The sky goddess wouldn’t stop playing until she’d won five whole days from me. Do you know the odds against winning that much time? Astronomical! Of course, she’s covered with stars, so I suppose she is astronomical.”