Horus's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

The great serpent's corpse sank into the black river of the Duat, and Horus's grandfather was still inside it. Horus stood on the shore, wings half-spread, watching the scaled body slip lower. He wore the Double Crown and the gold collar of Egypt's king, but no crown could pry open those scales. Atum-Ra, the sun himself, had killed the beast from within. Now the beast was becoming his tomb. If the sun-god drowned there, the sky-realm would have no ruler, and Egypt would sit unguarded. Horus had spent his whole life making sure Egypt was never left open again. He would not lose his grandfather to a dead snake. He drew his blade and struck the scales. The edge skipped off and left no mark. He struck again, harder. Nothing. The corpse dropped another hand's width into the dark water. "You can't cut in." Hathor came down the shore behind him. His wife carried no weapon, only her small gold instrument. She looked at the sinking body without fear. "Those scales held against everything. They'll hold against you too." She had walked the dead through this realm for ages. She knew its rules the way he knew a battlefield. "Then tell me what does work," Horus said. His arm shook. The water was at the serpent's spine now. "The old man went in through the mouth," Hathor said. "That's the only door. But he can't find it from inside a corpse in the dark." She lifted the instrument. "I can pull a lost soul toward me. I've done it fifty times this week. He just has to hear me." Horus looked at the water climbing the corpse. "Then sing. I'll open the door." He waded in. The cold gripped his legs. He reached the serpent's head and forced his fingers between the jaws. The teeth were longer than his arm. He set his shoulder against the lower jaw and pushed. Behind him, Hathor began to play, and her voice moved out across the water, plain and steady. The jaw gave. Horus wrenched it wide and held it while the river poured into the beast's throat. "Grandfather!" he shouted into the dark. "Follow her voice!" For a long moment nothing moved. The water reached Horus's chest. Then a light stirred deep in the throat, faint, then bright. A hand caught the edge of the teeth. Horus seized the wrist and pulled. Atum-Ra came out of the serpent's mouth, coughing black water, his light dimmed but alive. Horus dragged him to shore as the corpse slid under for good. His grandfather knelt on the sand, breathing hard. "The sky has no shield," Atum-Ra rasped. "I felt it while I drowned. The realm above is open. Something is already coming through." Horus looked at the empty water, then up at the dark. He had saved the sun. He had not yet closed the door.