The Throne of Fire (Kane Chronicles 2) - Page 108

a nightmare, all at once. He danced around, spewing some very creative curse words before realizing that the fire wasn’t hurting him. He was simply encased in a protective sheet of flames.

“What, exactly—” His eyes widened. “Hold on to something!”

The boat tipped sickeningly over the edge of the falls. I dashed the hieroglyphs onto the back of my hand, but it wasn’t a good copy. The flames spluttered weakly around me. Alas, I didn’t have time for anything better. I wrapped my arms around the rail, and we plummeted straight down.

Strange how many things can go through your mind as you fall to certain doom. From up high, the Lake of Fire looked quite beautiful, like the surface of the sun. I wondered if I would feel any pain on impact, or if we would simply evaporate. It was hard to see anything as we plummeted through the ash and smoke, but I thought I spotted a familiar island about a mile away—the black temple where I’d first met Anubis. I wondered if he could see me from there, and if he would rush to my rescue. I wondered if my chances of survival would be better if I pushed away from the boat and fell like a cliff diver, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I held on to the rail with all my might. I wasn’t sure if the magical fire shield was protecting me, but I was sweating fiercely, and I was fairly certain I’d left my throat and most of my internal organs at the top of the waterfall.

Finally we hit bottom with an understated whooooom.

How to describe the sensation of plunging into a lake of liquid fire? Well…it burned. And yet it was somehow wet, too. I didn’t dare breathe. After a moment’s hesitation, I opened my eyes. All I could see were swirling red and yellow flames. We were still underwater…or under fire? I realized two things: I was not burning to death, and the boat was moving forward.

I couldn’t believe my crazy protection glyphs had actually worked. As the boat slid through the swirling currents of heat, the voices of the crew whispered in my mind—more joyful than angry now.

Renew, they said. New life. New light.

That sounded promising until I grasped some less pleasant facts. I still couldn’t breathe. My body liked breathing. Also, it was getting much hotter. I could feel my protection glyph failing, the ink burning against my hand. I reached out blindly and grabbed an arm—Carter’s, I assumed. We held hands, and even though I couldn’t see him, it was comforting to know he was there. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the heat seemed to lessen.

Long ago, Amos had told us that we were more powerful together. We increased each other’s magic just by being in proximity. I hoped that was true now. I tried to send my thoughts to Carter, urging him to help me maintain the fire shield.

The ship sailed on through the flames. I thought we were starting to ascend, but it might have been wishful thinking. My vision began to go dark. My lungs were screaming. If I inhaled fire, I wondered if I would end up like Vlad Menshikov.

Just when I knew I would pass out, the boat surged upward, and we broke the surface.

I gasped—and not just because I needed the air. We had docked at the shoreline of the boiling lake, in front of a large limestone gateway, like the entrance to the ancient temple I’d seen at Luxor. I was still holding Carter’s hand. As far as I could tell, we were both fine.

The sun boat was better than fine. It had been renewed. Its sail gleamed white, the symbol of the sun shining gold in its center. The oars were repaired and newly polished. The paint was freshly lacquered black and gold and green. The hull no longer leaked, and the tent house was once more a beautiful pavilion. There was no throne, and no Ra, but the crew glowed brightly and cheerfully as they tied off the lines to the dock.

I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around Carter and let out a sob. “Are you all right?”

He pulled away awkwardly and nodded. The glyph on his forehead had burned off.

“Thanks to you,” he said. “Where—”

“Sunny Acres,” said a familiar voice.

Bes came down the steps to the dock. He wore a new, even louder Hawaiian shirt and only his Speedo for pants, so I can’t say he was a sight for sore eyes. Now that he was in the Duat, he fairly glowed with power. His hair had turned darker and curlier, and his face looked decades younger.

“Bes!” I said. “What took you so long? Are Walt and Zia—”

“They’re fine,” he said. “And I told you I’d meet you at the Fourth House.” He jabbed his thumb at a sign carved into the limestone archway. “Used to be called the House of Rest. Apparently they’ve changed the name.”

The sign was in hieroglyphs, but I had no trouble reading it.

“‘Sunny Acres Assisted-Living Community,’” I read. “‘Formerly the House of Rest. Under New Management.’ What exactly—”

“We should get going,” Bes said. “Before your stalker arrives.”

“Stalker?” Carter asked.

Bes pointed to the top of the fiery waterfall, now a good half mile away. At first I didn’t see anything. Then there was a streak of white against the red flames—as if a man in an ice cream suit had plunged into the lake. Apparently I hadn’t imagined that white smudge in the darkness. We were being followed.

“Menshikov?” I said. “That’s—that’s—”

“Bad news,” Bes said. “Now, come on. We have to find the sun god.”

S A D I E

20. We Visit the House of the Helpful Hippo

Tags: Rick Riordan Kane Chronicles Fantasy
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