Piay turned to look behind him, his heart pounding. Though he could see nothing in that vast ocean of dark, he sensed the Child-Killer drawing closer.

  Now the spiritual challenge was clear. The only way was down. He would need to show that he believed he had lived a good life and so was unafraid of death, for he would not be able to see what terrors awaited him in the dark beneath.

  Piay muttered another prayer to Khonsu, begging for him to guide him, then ducked below the surface. Down he went into that endless dark, the cold burning into every fibre of his being. The terrors of his experience in the shaft at Khem rushed back to him.

  All he had was his sense of touch. Piay scrabbled along the foot of the wall until his numb fingers slipped into a hole. Up he thrust, to suck in a gasp of air, and then pulled himself back down to the bottom.

  Three small holes were set in the wall. As he felt around, Piay realised one was shaped like a square, one like a circle and one an arch. He imagined that only one of the holes led to a tunnel that would pass beyond this gate. The other two would be traps, perhaps travelling so far that it would be impossible to make his way back before his breath ran out, or containing shifting slabs that would close behind him.

  But which one should he choose?

  Piay burst from the water again, his breath ragged. In the dark, his hearing seemed magnified. He could hear the slap of Akkan’s sandals on the stone floor, unbearably close now. Nearby, the breathing of Myssa and the Cobra was strained with the fear they both must have been feeling. They seemed to be crouched in the shallows, waiting to learn what he had discovered.

  Piay waded in the direction of Myssa. When he sensed she was close, he whispered, ‘Any contest between us should wait. If we work together now, we may at least cling onto our lives to survive this test.’

  Though he was speaking as quietly as he could, the acoustics of that space magnified every syllable. Wherever the Cobra was, he would certainly hear everything.

  Myssa sighed, as if frustrated at Piay’s determination to act with her, rather than against her.

  ‘Hurry,’ he urged. ‘Akkan draws closer with every breath you take.’

  That jolted her to a decision.

  ‘Very well,’ she muttered.

  Piay described the entrances to the three tunnels.

  ‘Which is the right one?’ he asked.

  Myssa thought for a moment, then said, ‘The arch – Imhotep always valued its secret strength.’

  Piay did not wait to debate the issue any further. He sucked in a huge breath of air, and once his lungs were full, he thrust himself back beneath the surface of the water.

  Steadying his mounting fear, he hauled himself into the arched tunnel, using the walls to propel himself forward. It was even narrower than the sarcophagus he had sheltered in within the Pyramid of Khufu, and he felt claustrophobia tug his wits towards panic.

  Then, with lungs burning, his fingers first sensed empty space, then curled back against the wall at the end of the tunnel. Piay pulled himself forward one last time. He kicked out of the narrow space, then placed his feet on the stone beneath him and leaped for the surface.

  Clawing his way out of the water, Piay collapsed onto cool stone. The musty air tasted sweeter than any he had breathed in his life.

  There was no time to rest, no time for further thought or reflection. Piay heaved himself up on shaky legs.

  Behind him the water splashed and he heard the slap of feet on the stone. It was Myssa, by the sound of it. He felt a rush of relief that she was still alive.

  ‘Thank you for—’ he began.

  ‘Don’t thank me,’ Myssa snapped in reply. ‘I’m doing this for my people, not for you.’

  As the echoes of her words died away, Piay heard more splashing. The Cobra had followed the path he had discovered.

  That’s the last time he steals any help from me, Piay thought, stumbling on into the darkness with Myssa close at his heels.

  A

  choking odour of bitter fruit surrounded Piay. He winced as it stung the back of his throat. A few steps further and the atmosphere became so thick, he felt his head swim.

  Piay cracked his foot against something. Reaching down, he closed his fingers around a rod-shaped object with a soft tip that felt like layers of mouldering linen.

  As he imagined the shape in the dark, his thoughts leaped and he snatched his flint out of his soaking pouch. He struck it several times until a spark flared. After the endless dark, his eyes burned from the glare.

  Behind him, Myssa cried out in surprise.

  Piay struck the flint again, and this time the fabric caught and flames licked up. Beside him, Piay saw a slim rope dipped in some kind of dark tar-like substance. He raised the torch to see where the rope led and found another torch set into the wall. So, the rope was an oversized, upside-down candlewick.

  Piay put the flame of his torch to the wick. At once it fizzed with sparks, then the flame caught hold properly, raced up the rope and ignited the torch on the wall. Piay just had time to spot the rope that ran horizontally away from that torch when it, too, burst into flames. A few seconds later another torch was lit, and then another, and on it went, again and again. In the blink of an eye, the whole tunnel was filled with a light that burned so brightly that Piay’s eyes, now accustomed to the dark, were blinded. He blinked hard, cleared his vision and looked around.

  Ahead of them, a channel had been carved through the floor. It was filled with some dark liquid that gleamed in the blazing light.

  Piay glanced at Myssa. She was as drenched as he was, her sodden dress clinging to her body, her hair lank around her face. Droplets glimmered like jewels on her dark skin and the torchlight danced in her eyes. Piay’s breath caught in his throat.

  This woman is not your lover, he told himself, forcing himself to confront the truth. She is your enemy.

  Piay’s vision suddenly blurred. When he blinked it clear, he felt a growing ache throughout his entire frame that seemed to be draining the very life-force from him. The viper venom was beginning to overwhelm him.

  He looked into Myssa’s eyes and saw her lids growing heavy. She was suffering, too. How long did they have left? Neither of them could know for certain, but he felt sure the end was near.

  Tearing his attention away from Myssa, Piay kneeled beside the channel and sniffed. Now he knew where the smell was coming from. It was filled with olive oil.

  His curiosity piqued, Piay edged forward, holding the torch high. A little further the wash of light plucked out three signs carved into the stone floor, each one set a spear’s length apart. Piay bowed over them. One was a crook and flail, one the sun, and the third an ibis.

  ‘What do you see here?’ Piay breathed.

  Myssa did not reply.

  She’s your enemy, Piay repeated to himself.

  Very well, he would think for himself alone. There were lines etched into the stone, moving ahead from each sign. He would follow them.

  As Piay stepped forward, Myssa went with him, and he heard the slap of wet feet behind them both. The Cobra was hanging back, staying cloaked in the shadows beyond the glow from the torch. The desire to lead the way was long gone. Now he was content to let the others take risks, so that he might learn and profit from their misfortunes.

  The fruity odour swelled as Piay and Myssa tracked along the lines until they both choked on its reek. Finally, they edged to a halt. The stone flags ended before a vast lake of oil. There were no more torches on the walls to illuminate the entire scene. The flames of Piay’s hand-held brand painted a wash of amber across the surface, but not far enough to see to the far side.

  Piay looked from side to side.

  ‘There are no paths across this.’ Despite himself, and in the face of all he knew, he still hoped that he and Myssa might somehow find a way to work together – to be together. ‘And how deep is it? If we try to wade across we could drown.’

  ‘Imhotep would not have made it that easy,’ Myssa said, grudgingly.

  A sharp sliver of hope cut through the toxins that were slowly overwhelming Piay’s body. When he trekked back to the three symbols engraved in the floor, Myssa followed him.

  Piay looked from the brand to the channel carving through the stone.

  ‘We use the torch to light the oil.’

  This time he kept his voice so low that only Myssa could hear. Her reply was equally quiet.

  ‘But that will set the lake ablaze, with no path to the other side.’

  Piay glanced back. ‘Exactly. The soul must face the Lake of Fire on the journey through the afterlife. Imhotep wants the oil to burn.’ He waved the torch towards the symbols. ‘If there is a way across, then it’s hidden here.’

  ‘Crook and flail . . . the sun . . . ibis,’ Myssa murmured. Sweat trickled down her brow.

  ‘Oh . . .’

  Piay sighed in anger at his own slowness. Myssa was a foreigner. Even with her intelligence, she could be forgiven for not spotting something very Egyptian.

  ‘They’re the symbols of gods,’ he said. ‘The crook and flail is Osiris. The sun is Ra. And the ibis is Thoth.’

  ‘I did not need to be told that,’ Myssa said.

  Piay heard the anger in her voice, but there was no time for emotion. He started thinking aloud.

  ‘All right, then – one of them leads to a way through the Lake of Fire. But which one? The underworld belongs to Osiris, so that would be the likely choice. Thoth records the verdict of the heart-weighing ceremony . . . and . . .’

  Myssa tapped her foot impatiently towards the sun symbol.

  ‘That one.’

  ‘Ra is not important here—’

  ‘Imhotep was the high priest of Ra at Heliopolis,’ Myssa said, dismissively. ‘He valued Ra above all others. That would have been his choice.’ More because she wanted to win the argument, than from any desire to help him, she pointed to the channel of oil. ‘Light it.’

  There was no time for any further debate. Sweeping the torch down, Piay plunged it into the viscous liquid. Flames roared up and raced along the channel.

  Ahead, the orange light swelled until the Passage of the Gods reverberated with a roar like a beast in the throes of fury. A scorching wind smashed along the tunnel, crashing over Piay and Myssa. Piay cursed as his skin seared and choking fumes filled his lungs.

  The Lake of Fire blazed across the chamber.

  Piay reeled from the roasting heat and threw an arm across his face to protect himself.

  Myssa shielded her eyes and squinted into the flames.

  ‘How do we get through that?’ she shouted.

  ‘Imhotep is testing our faith!’ Piay shouted back, knowing that the Cobra could not possibly hear him. ‘Show faith in the gods to guide our way!’

  Through the haze of the poison coursing through him, he remembered the voice that had whispered to him in the Pyramid of Khufu.

  ‘When the time comes, only water will keep the fire at bay.’

  Piay leaned in to Myssa. ‘Will you trust me?’

  She nodded, reluctantly. They both knew that, even now, he could not bring himself to hurt her.

  ‘Take off your dress,’ Piay said.

  Myssa frowned but did as he said.

  Once she stood naked before him, her body gleaming in the firelight, Piay snatched the dress from her and raced back along the passage.

  At the pool of black water reaching across the tunnel, he skidded to a halt and crouched. Grasping the linen of Myssa’s dress in both hands, he ripped it in two. Without pause, he dunked the material into the pool.

  The water cooled his hot skin, and the dank odour pushed aside the choking reek of burning oil. Piay thrust the remnants of the dress up and down, soaking them thoroughly.

  As he began to withdraw them, bubbles broke on the surface.

  Piay stared, puzzled. A hand burst from the pool, the white flesh mouldering. Fingers as hard as bronze clamped around his wrist.

  Piay cursed in shock. In his addled state, he had forgotten the death that stalked at their backs.

  Convulsing, he tried to rip himself free, but the rotting hand only gripped him tighter. Slowly, it began to pull Piay down towards the black water.

  Piay tossed the dress aside and jabbed the fingers of his free hand behind the Child-Killer’s grasp. Even as he edged closer to the pool, he thrust all his strength into those fingers and prised. Akkan was strong, perhaps even stronger than he had been in life. As Piay’s arm slipped into the water, he forced enough of a gap to twist his hand free.

  Piay flew backwards, sprawling across the flagstones.

  In the flickering light, Akkan’s head pushed up out of the water, first the rotting skin on his crown, then those dead, milky eyes.

  Piay felt the cold clutch at his heart. In that silent figure rising from the depths, he could see only death given human form.

  Jumping to his feet, Piay snatched up the cloth and pounded towards the light. The Cobra loomed in his path, but Piay barged past him and tossed one half of the sodden dress to Myssa.

  ‘Wrap this around you as best you can,’ he shouted over the roaring of the inferno.

  Myssa heard the urgency in his voice and immediately complied.

  Overhearing their plan, Tallus spun around, no doubt with the intention of soaking his own robe, but after only a few steps the sorcerer skidded to a halt and scrabbled backwards on his heels. Piay didn’t look round. The Cobra had clearly seen Akkan rising from the depths. There was no way back now, no way to the pool, and no way forward for the Cobra.

  Piay flashed a glance at Myssa. She nodded that she was ready, and they darted forward together along the line stretching out from the symbol of the sun.

  Without missing a step, Piay tossed half the drenched cloth across himself and bowed his head into the scorching heat.

  The flames were a liquid wall of gold and crimson, the roaring so loud it drowned out all other sound. Piay could see no way through. Faith was all he had: in the gods, in Imhotep, in Myssa.

  He felt a pang of fear as the overheated air rushed into his lungs, but he threw himself on. To slow his step, even for an instant, would be disastrous.

  The inferno swallowed him. At the moment when Piay thought he might plunge into the burning oil, he felt his feet pound on something solid: a stone path across the Lake of Fire. It would have been hidden beneath the surface of the oil, but the fire had already burned off enough of the liquid to reveal it.

  Piay didn’t dare to look back to see if Myssa was behind him. His exposed legs burned and the sodden cloth steamed.

  When the air became too hot to breathe and barbs of agony stabbed deep inside him, Piay felt certain he was doomed. But then he stumbled past the last of the conflagration into the other side of the chamber, careering across the flagstones until the air cooled a little.

  He looked up, gasping for air, to see Myssa crouched beside him, mopping her own skin. Their eyes met, and she smiled in relief that they had both survived. In that instant, Piay saw the face that he had known before she had succumbed to the Cobra’s potion.

  That warmth faded as Myssa looked past him. Piay followed her gaze. A long chamber stretched ahead, shimmering in the light from the Lake of Fire. On either side were looming statues, representations of the forty-two mummified beings who would carry out the final judgement of the soul in the afterlife. Piay glimpsed the Swallower of Shades, the Bone-breaker and the Eater of Entrails. Beyond them, in the centre of the hall, was a statue of a baboon – Thoth in his animal form.

  Finally, against the far wall there stood a gigantic throne on which perched a statue of Osiris, the judge and the lord of the underworld. Piay shuddered as he looked up at the green-painted face – the colour of rebirth – topped by the tall atef crown with the curling ostrich feathers on either side. The figure was mummified to the neck and clutched the crook and the flail against its chest.

  Three circular holes had been cut in the stone dais on which the throne was set. Piay stared at what had to be the final test, but he could see no distinguishing features near any of the holes. They were set in the dais at different heights: one near the floor, one level with Piay’s waist, and one that came to halfway up his chest.

  Myssa looked at Piay. Her gaze was steady. Her eyes neither asked for his help, nor offered any of hers. She was simply acknowledging what they both knew. This was the moment when one of them would win . . . and the other one would be condemned to death.

  As Piay hurried forward to examine the holes, his feet kicked up a cloud of white dust. Before he could stop himself, he breathed in and winced at the bitter taste of one of the Sons of Apis’ potions.

  With the viper venom coursing through him, and the dust burning the path to his lungs, Piay felt as if the world was spinning away from him.

  When his vision finally cleared, he gasped.

  The gods had been summoned.

  On one side loomed the enormous figure of Khonsu, the moon-disc atop his head, staring with a cold fury as he brandished the was-sceptre.

  On the other side of the hall loomed the beast-headed Seth. His hatred burned as hot as the desert sands that were his home. So terrible was his visage that Piay wrenched his head away, but his skin still prickled from the seething sense of evil contained in the towering figure.

  Khonsu and Seth stared each other down. This was the final phase of the battle that had raged between the two gods through their chosen agents upon the earth. In front of the gods, Piay felt insignificant, but he knew the outcome of this struggle now rested with him.

  Pushing aside his terror, he dashed to the three holes. Each was large enough to take a single arm, and when he peered into their depths, the wavering light that reached that far revealed what looked like a loop of a dark metal.

  Piay shook his head. Darkness was closing around the edge of his vision and his heart appeared to be slowing, his limbs growing more leaden with each fading beat. The venom was eating its way through what remained of him.

  As his fingers wavered over the middle hole, Myssa grasped his shoulders and hauled him back. When he spun round, Piay saw her eyes were blazing.