The Buried Pyramid (61 page)

That’s the price you pay for acting like you’re tough, Jenny Benet,
she said to herself.
People feel free to take you at your word.

The Nile flowed quietly around them, but Jenny became aware that outside the sphere of Ra’s immediate surroundings the area was becoming dark.

“We are entering Apophis’s strength,” Ra said. “Here he will do his worst.”

So ready was she for hordes of crocodiles or gigantic monster hippopotami, Jenny nearly missed trouble when it came.

The edge of the waters began to be dotted with rounded interruptions, but as these protruding rocks did not extend into the channel where the Boat of Millions of Years sailed steadily on, she said nothing.

Then Jenny noticed that the rocks were moving. The light was poor, but she watched until she felt almost certain.

“To the rear and sides,” she called. “Those rocks. Is it me, or are they moving?”

Stephen said hesitantly, “I think so, but what . . .”

“Turtles!” Eddie interrupted. “Lots of them. Their beaks can take a finger off, even a hand. Keep your hands in the boat!”

Ra was giving orders. The boat picked up speed, but already the turtles were pacing them, in some cases passing them.

“They’re so fast!” Jenny said. “Whoever said turtles were slow?”

“On land, they’re slow,” Lady Cheshire said. “Mr. Holmboe, do you recall the tale of the magician and the courtesan’s trinket?”

Stephen laughed aloud.

“I do. Shall we try?”

“I’ll feel rather like we will be in imitation of Moses,” Lady Cheshire said. “But I don’t think it’s impiety when for a just cause.”

None of this made any sense to Jenny. She readied her rifle, wondering if turtles, like sharks, could be turned away by the scent of blood in the water. She wondered what turtles could do to them anyhow. They couldn’t climb, surely, not even as well as a snake, and they couldn’t break the boat into pieces. Then she remembered their resemblance to rocks.

They could run us aground,
she thought,
pile one on another and then get aboard. Remember that boy who lost two toes to a snapper?

Lady Cheshire had begun chanting, her voice giving cadence to rather ragged impromptu verse:

“Roll back waters/ roll away/ Roll back waters/ as you did in Snofru’s day./ Roll back waters/ reveal the muddy ground/ roll back waters/ in mud is treasure found.”

Stephen echoed her, line for line. Each held their makeshift ankh stiffly to one side. With their free hand, they made a pushing gesture, as if shoving the water back.

Winds dying down, then rising again are natural.

Plants growing with incredible swiftness are natural, too. The mind might excuse this in many ways. Perhaps the hippo had stirred up a mat of vegetation that had then floated to the surface. Perhaps Ra’s light had caused some natural growth spurt, for both lilies and lotus respond to the sun.

However, there is no way to justify river water peeling back from itself, like an ocean retreating under the pull of a strong tide. There is no way to justify the abrupt appearance of a broad muddy strip, crammed with graceless and floundering turtles, many now revealed to be of extraordinary size. Even more difficult is justifying having one’s boat continue to move forward, unaffected by events behind, thudding over the occasional turtle who had not been caught like its brethren. Indeed, the Boat of Millions of Years sailed rather gaily over these few.

Ra laughed with delight. “Usually Thoth and Isis summon the
abdju
-fish and the
dejeseru
-fish, and these make short work of the turtles. Your approach was quite different.”

“Why didn’t you tell us what to do?” Neville said, rather angrily, Jenny thought, and she didn’t blame him. Both Stephen and Lady Cheshire looked exhausted, like they’d been doing something a whole lot harder than singing a few lines of doggerel.

“I feared the fish would not answer,” Ra admitted. “What if they have gone wherever the rest of my companions are? I would have mentioned it if the lady had not been so clever. He bowed from the waist, and Lady Cheshire flushed with genuine pleasure.

Jenny thought Lady Cheshire deserved the praise. She herself admired people who thought well on their feet. Perhaps the desire to live up to Lady Cheshire’s example was what sustained Jenny when she again turned forward and saw looming before them, not water, not river bank, but what at first seemed a huge tunnel, its reddish pale interior framed by four white curving fangs.

“Ahead,” Jenny called, and was pleased to find her voice steady. “Folks, we’ve reached Apophis.”

22

Apophis

Neville swung around at Jenny’s words, and nearly dropped his rifle when he saw the size of the waiting snake.

“Snake” was hardly a fair term for the monster that awaited them. Apophis was so huge that a man could slip down its throat without it even bothering to swallow. The Boat of Millions of Years would give it a bit more trouble, but then the boat wasn’t what Apophis wanted. Apophis wanted one passenger. Apophis wanted Ra.

For one moment of pure panicked honesty, Neville considered giving Ra over. After all, the strange being wasn’t
really
the sun. Couldn’t be. Everyone knew that the sun was some sort of giant furnace in the sky. Hadn’t the Egyptians themselves been a bit confused about whether Ra was really the sun or just rode on the same boat?

“Rifles ready,” Neville called, speaking quickly, afraid he’d say something else. “Fire on my order.”

He was aware of Ra and Rashid reducing sail, letting the boat be pulled away from Apophis’s, gaping maw by the current.

“Fire!” he shouted.

Four explosions occurred almost simultaneously. Neville could have sworn that Apophis shuddered slightly from four distinct impacts, but otherwise the enormous snake seemed unaffected. Certainly no blood welled forth within the cavern of its mouth.

Sarah Syms called out, “We’re moving backwards. Do you think it will come after us?”

Neville envied Mrs. Syms the composure of her madness, but only said, “I fear so. Ready to fire again . . .”

But Apophis wasn’t waiting for them to fire. It worked its mouth slightly, its tongue flickering rapidly as it did so, determined not to lose their scent.

Rehinging its jaw,
Neville thought.
It’s given up on the idea of swallowing us whole. So why don’t I feel better?

Now Apophis, a powerful coil of black, his head adorned with horns like those of the vipers that had assaulted the boat earlier, could be seen in his might and glory.

The snake reared up and back, the vast extent of its coils still blocking the river. Although not a cobra, Apophis shared the cobra’s strength, holding a great length of its body high above the water as it cast about, swaying slightly. Head reared back, tongue flickering, it tasted the air.

“Drop to the deck and cover yourselves!” Ra yelled, the words mingling a man’s voice and a falcon’s shriek.

Neville obeyed, hearing the thud of the others hitting the deck alongside him, followed by a terrific flapping sound. There was an angry hiss and a sharp, acrid odor. Something wet misted against the thin band of exposed skin at the back of Neville’s neck, and where it touched, it burned.

Ra’s voice came again. “Rise, quickly now,” he commanded. “Apophis cannot try that trick again. He will not have sufficient venom for such a mighty spray.”

Neville scrambled to his feet.

“Venom!” Stephen was saying, looking up at the steaming holes in the sail. “Apophis spat his venom at us . . .”

“More like acid than venom,” Eddie said, looking down at where his sleeve was perforated with dozens of tiny holes. “If Ra hadn’t released the sail . . .”

“Yet I did so, and the cloth intercepted most of the spray,” Ra interjected, “though the canvas is ruined. Apophis will not wait long before trying something new. Even now, he must be considering what to do.”

Apophis had dropped back, as a man might after firing a shot, uncertain whether he had hit his target, and waiting to assess the damage before trying a new assault.

Jenny cut in. “Is anyone hurt? I have a salve that should ease the burning.”

Lady Cheshire answered, “Over here. Rashid is hurt. He left his forearm bare while restraining Mischief.”

Neville took a quick glance over to where Rashid knelt on the deck, cradling his arm. The wounded limb bore several large white blisters, looking as if hot ash had stuck to the skin. Rashid bore what must have been terrific pain bravely. In fact, now that Neville paused to consider it, ever since they had entered this strange river valley, the mute youth had been behaving with extraordinary poise and intelligence.

Had coming into this place somehow made him smarter, even as it had robbed Mrs. Syms of her sanity? Or had Rashid’s stupidity been an act all along? Neville did not have time to pursue that line of thought, beyond feeling grateful that for whatever reason Rashid was turning out to be an asset rather than a liability.

Ignoring her own small blisters, Jenny hurried to Rashid’s side, cleaned the remnants of acid from his skin before smoothing ointment onto the blisters. Mischief sobbed over Rashid’s injury, shrilling small notes of sympathy to his master and stroking the youth’s face with his slim, black fingers. He paused only to shriek defiance at Apophis.

Neville couldn’t help but grin. The little monkey wouldn’t even make a tidbit for the enormous snake.

“Thoughts as to what we should do next, anyone?” he said.

Eddie replied immediately. “The way to kill a snake is to cut off its head. Thing is, our rifle shots didn’t seem to do much good. Will we do any better with a blade?”

“We don’t have much choice but to try, do we?” Captain Brentworth said gruffly. “The boat’s drifting back, and I don’t fancy getting trapped between the turtles and that snake. I say we lay into it with our rifles, then finish it with the machete I saw in your gear.”

“Good thing,” Eddie said, a trifle sarcastically, “if we can get it to hold its head politely down for us.”

Jenny rose to her feet, cocked her head back, and examined the towering snake with a fair facsimile of fearlessness.

“Eddie, we got any more of that good rope we brought with us? The smooth, strong stuff we were going to use for climbing.”

“We have most of it,” Eddie replied. “It’s with the rest of the gear.”

Jenny burrowed through the heap until she came to the rope, then she started fashioning a loop at one end.

“I’ll reckon,” she said, her American accent becoming thicker by the minute, “that I can lay myself a line right around that varmint’s neck. It don’t have much in the way of a head, mind, but those scales are so big and coarse I fancy the rope’ll find purchase. Think you
hombres
can rassle him down if I do?”

Neville nodded slowly.

“We can try cinching the line around the mast,” he said. “That will give us better support. Brentworth, you’re by far the strongest of us. Can you serve as anchor?”

Brentworth was already down from the rudder platform. “Strangest game of tug of war I’ve ever played,” he said.

Jenny had prepared her loop and was twirling it slowly, getting a feel for the rope’s flexibility and play.

“I’ve lassoed broncs and bulls,” she said. “Even lassoed a buffalo cow once on a dare, but I never caught me any giant snakes.”

Ra’s voice spoke from beneath the canopy, but his words were addressed to Mozelle.

“No, little hunter, you cannot go and chase that rope,” he said, and Neville saw that “rope” the kitten was apparently fascinated with was not the lasso but the gigantic snake. Sitting still on Ra’s knee, the kitten arched her back and hissed.

The snake noticed the tiny feline’s challenge and emitted a ferocious hiss of its own, sounding like a train’s boiler releasing pent-up steam. Then the triangular wedge of its head plunged down in attack, cutting through the air like an arrow released from a bow.