He did his best to look scornful, but a smile tugged at his lips, as if we were sharing a private joke.
“You didn’t come to stop me,” I guessed. “You’re counting on us to find the scrolls for you and put them together. Do you need Ra to wake up in order to free Apophis?”
“Enough, Carter.” Desjardins spoke in a monotone, like a surgery patient counting backward waiting for anesthesia to kick in. I didn’t understand why he seemed so apathetic, but Menshikov looked angry enough for both of them. From the hatred in the Russian’s eyes, I could tell I’d struck a nerve.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I said. “Ma’at and Chaos are connected. To free Apophis, you have to wake Ra, but you want to control the summoning, make sure Ra comes back old and weak.”
Menshikov’s new oaken staff burst into green flames. “Boy, you have no idea what you are saying.”
“Set teased you about a past mistake,” I remembered. “You tried to awaken Ra once before, didn’t you? Using what—only the one scroll you had? Is that how you burned your face?”
“Carter!” Desjardins interrupted. “Vlad Menshikov is a hero of the House of Life. He tried to destroy that scroll to keep anyone else from using it. That’s how he was injured.”
For a moment I was too stunned to speak. “That…can’t be true.”
“You should do your homework, boy.” Menshikov fixed his ruined eyes on me. “The Menshikovs are descended from the priests of Amun-Ra. You’ve heard of that temple?”
I tried to recall the stories my dad had told me. I knew Amun-Ra was another name for Ra, the sun god. And his temple…
“They pretty much controlled Egypt for centuries,” I remembered. “They opposed Akhenaton when he outlawed the old gods, maybe even assassinated him.”
“Indeed,” Menshikov said. “My ancestors were champions of the gods! They are the ones who created the Book of Ra and hid its three sections, hoping that someday, a worthy magician would reawaken their sun god.”
I tried to wrap my mind around that. I could totally see Vlad Menshikov as an ancient bloodthirsty priest. “But if you’re descended from priests of Ra—”
“Why do I oppose the gods?” Menshikov glanced at the Chief Lector as if I’d asked a predictably stupid question. “Because the gods destroyed our civilization! By the time Egypt fell and Lord Iskandar banned the path of the gods, even my family had come to realize the truth. The old ways must be forbidden. Yes, I tried to destroy the scroll, to make up for the sins of my ancestors. Those who summon the gods must be wiped out.”
I shook my head. “I saw you summon Set. I heard you talk about freeing Apophis. Desjardins, Zia—this guy is lying. He’s going to kill you both.”
Desjardins looked at me in a kind of daze. Amos had insisted the Chief Lector was smart, so how could he not understand the threat?
“No more,” Desjardins said. “Come peacefully, Carter Kane, or be destroyed.”
I gave Zia one more pleading look. I could see the doubt in her eyes, but she wasn’t in any shape to help me. She’d just woken up from a three-month-long nightmare. She wanted to believe the House of Life was still her home and Desjardins and Menshikov were the good guys. She didn’t want to hear any more about Apophis.
I raised the crook and flail. “I’m not going peacefully.”
Menshikov nodded. “Then, destruction it is.”
He pointed his staff at me, and my instincts took over. I lashed out with the crook.
I was much too far away to reach him, but some invisible force ripped the staff out of Menshikov’s hand and sent it flying into the Nile. He held out his wand, but I slashed the air again, and Menshikov went flying. He landed on his back so hard, he made a mud angel.
“Carter!” Desjardins pushed Zia behind him. His own staff lit with purple fire. “You dare to use the weapons of Ra?”
I looked at my hands in amazement. I’d never felt so much power come to me so easily—as if I were meant to be a king. In the back of my mind, I heard Horus’s voice, urging me on:
This is your path. This is your birthright.
“You’re going to kill me anyway,” I told Desjardins.
My body began to glow. I rose off the ground. For the first time since New Year’s, I was encased in the avatar of the hawk god—a falcon-headed warrior three times my normal size. In its hands were massive holographic replicas of the crook and flail. I hadn’t paid much attention to the flail, but it was a wicked pain-bringer—a wooden handle with three barbed chains, each topped by a spiky metal asterisk—like a combination whip and meat tenderizer. I took a swipe at the ground, and the falcon warrior mirrored my action. The glowing flail pulverized the stone steps of Zia’s tomb, sending blocks of limestone flying through the air.
Desjardins raised a shield to deflect the shards. Zia’s eyes widened. I knew I was probably freaking her out and convincing her I was the bad guy, but I had to protect her. I couldn’t let Menshikov take her away.
“Combat magic,” Desjardins said with disdain. “This is what the House of Life was like when we followed the path of the gods, Carter Kane: magician fighting magician, backstabbing and duels between the different temples. Do you want those times to return?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I said. “I don’t want to fight you, Desjardins, but Menshikov is a traitor. Get out of here. Let me deal with him.”