She put a boot to Kira’s shoulder, yanking the scepter free. Kira’s vision grayed, but she bit her tongue and held on. Too much depended on her making it through.
She called her power, the burning desire to know the truth. Everything else could wait. What she was, where her life was supposed to go, whom she’d have with her—all of that could wait. Nothing mattered more than uncovering this particular truth.
Her extrasense sparked inside her, blowing away all doubts and uncertainty. She reached out to the raw power still flowing from the was scepter. The magics connected, flowing back into her body, infusing her. Changing her.
Her right hand moved, sliding across her body to grip the handle of her Lightblade. Magic flared, blue-white, but sputtered against the overwhelming flow of Chaos pumping into her. Still, the Light was enough to afford her some distance from the pain, enough distance for her mind to think.
Move, she willed her left hand. It flopped against her chest, slick with blood and burnt with Shadow magic. You’ve got to reach the other blade.
Kira. A voice whispered in her head, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Khefar’s. If Light and Darkness live inside you, own them. Claim them. Use them to kick some ass. Say the spell and show them all.
She had no idea what he was talking about, if it was actually Khefar who spoke to her. What spell was there that combined Light and Darkness?
Suddenly, in her mind’s eye, she saw a papyrus scroll unfurl, saw the gilded inscriptions of the Book of the Dead. Strange, that out of the hundreds of spells in the scroll, the words of this one would come to her, clearly and easily.
Her fingers wrapped around the Shadowblade. With both daggers in her hands, she sucked in the power flooding through her. Using that power to charge both her blades and her will, she began to chant the spell for Giving Light and Darkness.
“I am she who donned the white-bright fringed cloak of Nun, which gives light in darkness, which unites the two companion goddesses who are in my body by means of the great magic which is on my mouth.”
Thunder rumbled; Set was angry. He rose to his feet, gesturing toward her as he issued a command. Kira didn’t understand the words, but she definitely understood his intent. He wanted her stopped.
She made it to her knees. Marit shrieked in anger as she swung the staff at Kira. Kira caught it between the crossed blades of her daggers. Magic broke like lightning through the room, slamming into the ground, the walls, everything. Marit shrieked as the power struck her, her entire body stiffening before falling to the ground.
Kira grinned through her pain, then continued the spell, the words ringing from her in a voice not her own. “My fallen enemy who was with me in the valley of Abydos will not be raised up, and I am content.”
She used her foot to knock the was scepter away from Marit’s still body, then picked it up, juggling blades and staff. She lifted it up as high overhead as she could, then shoved it down, burying the forked end into the stone floor. The entire chamber rocked and rumbled as a ball of bright-green power, her power, welled up like a mushroom cloud. “I have brought darkness by means of my power. I have separated Set from the houses of the Above. I am the Woman Who Lightens Darkness, I have come to lighten the darkness and it is bright.”
Kira held on to the staff for support and the ball of power filled the room, blinding her. Slowly the light faded, showing that the false Hall of Judgment was empty. No Marit, no Set, no Lady of Shadows.
The was scepter stood rooted in the center of the room, now a blackened, charcoal-crusted stick. Her khopesh lay on the ground halfway between the empty throne and the Scales of Truth. Had they always been there?
She tottered over to the khopesh and fell to her knees beside it. She still had to find Ammit, find the heart scarabs, before her strength gave out. If she couldn’t restore the people who were in comas, giving in to Shadow would be for nothing.
With her extrasense glowing a steady fern green, Kira sheathed both blades and picked up the khopesh. The sickle-sword immediately suffused with her magic, making her light-headed. Or maybe that was the blood loss.
She tried to stand, but seemed to have difficulty making her legs obey. She couldn’t feel her left arm at all anymore; it was a miracle that she’d been able to sheath the Shadowblade. If the real Ammit was around somewhere, she’d be in serious trouble. Hell, she was in serious trouble anyway, taking so much raw Shadow magic into her system.
The very thing she’d feared, she’d become. It wasn’t a question of how far she’d Fallen. The true question was: would she be able to fight off the Shadow part of her nature long enough to face the Ammit construct and save the innocents?
Magic and anger burned through her. Marit was a sadistic bitch, but it was her own fault for allowing the Shadow Adept to jump her. She could only hope that she lived long enough to have a proper showdown.
She half-crawled, half-dragged herself back over to the scepter. She didn’t want to touch it again, but she preferred to die on her feet than flat on her back. It seemed to take ages, yet she managed to use the was scepter and the khopesh as lopsided makeshift crutches to gain her feet.
Breathing hard, she stared up at the ceiling, trying to marshal the strength to move, to do the last bit that needed to be done. “Okay, so I know I had to come through that part alone. I get it, I really do. But I could use some help. So if you guys are listening, I think now would be a good time to send the cavalry.”
Chap†er 24
Khefar ran around the sarcophagus and through the doorway, his heart in his throat. The Dagger of Kheferatum reacted violently. He looked around for another threat, only to realize it emanated from the other side of the door.
Before the squad stuck a C-4 charge on the fake stone lintel, the frame glowed bright emerald green and dissolved. Khefar leapt through the doorway, the Special Response Team following.
They were in the Hall of Judgment, but not the one he’d seen in his vision when he’d died. This one looked as if it had been turned into a war zone. Scorch marks marred the walls and area before the raised throne. Dark splotches like brushstrokes dotted the floor, splotches Khefar realized were blood. Kira stood in the center of the room, the khopesh hanging limply in her right hand. She held on to a blackened was scepter with her left, slumped against it as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. The sleeves of her shirt were gone, and her left hand looked as charred as the staff.
Mother of All. “Kira!”
He started to run to her, but his dagger throbbed with warning. “Kira, look at me.”
She lifted her head. Dread knotted his gut. Through the blood, sweat, and dirt that smudged her face, her eyes glowed a fierce, bright yellow. “Khefar.” Her voice dragged from her in chunks. “How did you get here?”
“Don’t worry about that.” He waved the others back, took another step toward her, forcing himself to stay calm. “I need you to let go of that staff.”
She looked at the scepter as if surprised to find herself holding it. “I can’t. If I do, I’ll fall.”
“I’ll catch you.”
“Promise?”
He sheathed his blade, held his arms out. “I promise.”
“Okay.” Grimacing with effort, she pushed herself away from the blackened staff.
He caught her before she collapsed, lowering her carefully to the floor. Blood ran from a wound beneath her left collarbone, running down her bare arm and burned hand to stain the floor beneath her. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.”
Fury burned inside him as he quickly checked her for other injuries. “He did it, didn’t he? Set stabbed you with that was scepter.”
She blinked, her eyes now a brilliant hazel green and tarnished with pain. “No. Marit did, while Set and Myshael watched.”
She’d faced all three of them alone? He dug into a pocket of the tactical vest and found several gauze bandages and tape. He unzipped her vest enough to quickly dress the wound and wrap her left hand. “C
an you stand? We need to get you out of here!”
“No.” She gripped his vest with her good hand. “Haven’t found the scarabs yet. Need to find them, or it was for nothing.”
“What was?” he asked, trying to keep her talking. She sounded irrational, and that worried him. They probably needed her extrasense to fix the heart scarabs and save each exhibit visitor, but she couldn’t last much longer without real medical attention.
“It happened like my dreams. ’Cept this time I won.” Her breath shuddered. “And lost.”
Her head rolled, her gaze going to the scepter still embedded in the floor. “Need to destroy it,” she whispered. “Will you do it?”
“With pleasure.” He rose, unsheathing the Dagger of Kheferatum.
“Sir.” Commander Jenkins stepped up to him. “We should take the artifact back to Gilead.”
“No, we shouldn’t.”
“It’s obviously a powerful weapon. Protocol states that any weapons recovered from hybrids are to be confiscated immediately.”
Khefar grit his teeth. “I don’t work for Gilead, so to hell with your protocol! Kira says destroy it, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
Bale stepped forward. “The Eternal Man wants to destroy the weapon that harmed his woman. I don’t see a problem with that, do you?”
Jenkins looked from one to the other. A soft curse fell from his lips as he looked at Kira. “No, don’t see any problems here. We’ll go do a security sweep.”
“Good.” Khefar swung his blade at the charred staff. It was like striking an iron bar. The impact reverberated up his arm, numbing it. He tightened his grip, holding the blade against the staff. The burnt surface glowed yellow white. A sudden whoosh of air and the staff disintegrated into a shower of golden sparks.
Khefar quickly sheathed his blade, returning to Kira. “It’s gone.”
“Thanks. I’m ready now.”
He got his arms beneath her, cursing softly when she gasped. “This is gonna hurt.”
“Better make it quick, then.”
He was a gentle as he could be, but Kira still let out a short, sharp shriek as he pulled her upright. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered into her hair, holding her close. “Sorry I wasn’t here to help you.”
“You’re here now. And you will help me.”
“Chaser Solomon?”
They turned as one of the squad members approached. Kira stepped back from him, trying to project that she wasn’t using the khopesh as a cane to keep her upright. “Yeah?”
“The commanders say they’ve found an Ammit statue, and it’s got a jar of scarabs at its feet,” she said.
“Great. Make sure no one touches it. It’s bound to have some sort of protective spell on it. We’re right behind you.”
The guard hesitated. “Can I help?”
Kira grimaced. “No, you can’t, but thank you for the offer.”
Khefar thrust his shoulder beneath Kira’s right arm, wrapping his arm securely around her waist. He would have rather carried her, but she’d retaliate by shooting him when she recuperated. As soon as she finished with the scarabs, though, he’d carry her out. She could kick and scream until she passed out from the pain.
The rest of the squad and the banaranjans were crowded into the far corner of the room, on the other side of the massive set of scales. They shuffled aside to reveal the closest he ever wanted to come to Ammit the Devourer: a four-foot-tall statue of the demoness.
The statue looked as if someone had caught the Devourer in suspended animation, eyes glinting citrine yellow, jaws open in preparation to rend, to tear, to destroy. “Thank the gods it’s only a statue.”
“It is, but it isn’t,” Kira said, her breathing harder than necessary. Sweat beaded her brow, and fresh blood seeped from beneath the bandage. “There’s some sort of spirit trapped inside it. To get to it, I’ll have to breach the Shadow magic. Then I need to say a spell to break the spell on the heart scarabs.”
He turned his head, trying to see her expression. Not that he needed to. He’d seen her eyes, noticed the change in color. She may have faced—and defeated—the Lady of Shadows and the Lord of Chaos, but the confrontation had left her with more Shadow than she’d started with.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low. “Haven’t you taken on enough already?”
“Who else is gonna do it?” she asked, her words slurring.
He swallowed a growl of frustration. Kira needed to be in a hospital, not facing another danger. “We could call Yessara. Doesn’t she do that siphoning thing?”
“Emotions. She works with negative emotions.” Kira rested heavily against him. “Not the same thing. Not enough time. They set it up for me to do. I have to be the one.”
She was right, he knew. It didn’t mean he had to like it. “All right. What do you need me to do?”
She quirked a smile. “Hold me up.”
“Of course. Everybody, give her some space.”
The banaranjans backed up with humans ranged behind them, leaving Kira and Khefar in front of the statue. Kira lifted the khopesh in her right hand. Why isn’t she using her Lightblade?
The Dagger of Kheferatum thrummed at his hip; Kira must have called her power. Yes. Her eyes fairly glowed a brilliant new-spring green. Khefar was suddenly glad the banaranjans were between them and the human squad. He was certain Kira wouldn’t want news of her new eye color to get back to Sanchez.
Gritting her teeth, Kira thrust the hooked blade of the khopesh into the statue’s mouth. Even with his insensitivity to magic, he could make out the flare of power that surrounded her, the golden nimbus that surrounded the Ammit statue.
Kira groaned, clenching her teeth before speaking. “My heart … my heart. May my heart be with me, and may it rest in me. May my mouth be given unto me that I may speak with it, and my two feet to it walk withal, and my two hands and arms to overthrow my foe.”
She sagged, the khopesh dropping slightly as her power faded. “I can’t … it’s too much.”
“Yes you can.”
“Can’t you help her?” Bale asked angrily. “You took out that damned snake with no problem!”
“No.” Khefar grit his teeth. He’d cracked a couple of ribs taking out that damned snake. Like hell it was no problem. “It’s keyed to her magic. She’s the only one who can do it.”
He kept his left arm around her waist and reached up with his right hand to steady her grip. “You can do this, Kira. You have the power and the will.”
“Lady of Justice, be with me,” she whispered. “Mother of All, give me strength.”
He repeated the prayer with her, helping her shove the hooked blade all the way through the statue’s yawning maw. Together they faced the swirling golden light, the darkness of the disorder that was Chaos that emanated from the Ammit construct. “Turn thou back, O messenger of all the gods. Is it that thou art come to carry away this my heart which liveth? My heart which liveth shall not be given unto thee. I advance, the gods give ear unto my supplications, and they fall down upon their faces wheresoever they be.”
Summoning the last vestiges of her strength, she thrust down with the khopesh, glowing emerald green with the combined power. The magic surrounding the statue combusted, blowing them back a foot or two. Kira staggered but he managed to steady her. The khopesh clattered to the floor. “The spirit’s been sent back to Shadow,” she said, the words dragging out of her. “Now I need to purify the gemstones if I can. Help me get closer to the scarabs, please.”
He shuffled her forward. She thrust her hands into the oversized bowl that was closer to being a barrel. A low moan slipped from her. “Heart … must be able to go out …”
“Control, are there any rituals or spells referring to the heart?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry, sir, but most of the spells in the book mention the heart in some way,” the analyst said in his ear. “There are hundreds.”
“I know,” Kira said, her voice thready. “K
now the words. Give me a moment to catch my breath.”
There wasn’t a lot of time, Khefar knew. He had to get Kira to safety, to someone who could quickly patch her up. “Kira, say the damn spell and save your heart!”
Once again she called her power, channeling it into the collection of carved scarabs. “I—I know my heart. I have gotten the mastery over my heart. I have gotten the mastery over my two hands and arms. I have gotten the mastery over my feet, and I have gained the power to do whatsoever my ka pleaseth.”
Khefar’s heart ached as he watched Kira sway with the effort to remain strong, to focus her magic and her will to finish speaking the ritual words that would break the Shadow spell and free the souls held hostage.
Bleeding, shivering, power tripping through her and around her, she threw her head back, power flowing out of her and into the trove of gemstone scarabs. Her voice deepened, coming from a place deep inside of her. “My soul shall not be shut off from my body at the gates of the underworld; but I shall enter in peace, and I shall come forth in peace.”
A howl of denial, rage at being denied, blew through the air with a sonic boom, causing everyone to duck and seek out an imminent threat. Kira turned to face Khefar, a crooked smile on her face. “I have thwarted the chance of Set, the mighty one of strength.”
She lifted her head. “Do you hear that, Grandpa? Today’s not your day. Tomorrow won’t be either!”
She fell back into his arms. “Need your help,” she murmured. “But I think I … I think I need to close my eyes for a little bit first.”
“Kira? Kira!”
He scooped her up into his arms. “Someone make me a door. Now.”
The group quickly made their way back to the loading dock. Sanchez and the support teams were already there, ready to handle the rest of the wounded. The Special Response Teams had only lost one member. Bale and his banaranjans appeared to have come through their conflict without a scratch.
An EMT rushed over to Khefar with a gurney and a blanket. “We can take the Shadowchaser, sir,” he said.
Shadow Fall Page 27
