Within seconds, they had reached the southern gates and the desert beyond. Looking neither left, right, nor taking a break, Horus tore through the towering dunes, causing the sand beneath his feet to explode into all directions like landmines. Simon, finding precariously little hold on the god's slender back, tried to ignore the way he was slipping downward head first. He looked back to Zawte as they went, where the silhouette of a somewhat familiar, tall, dark shape was watching their retreat. They seemed to have made a run for it just in time.

  If Simon had ever thought that the desert was his enemy before, now it felt as though it was home. He felt strangely safe in the never changing mass of sand and dust. Behind them, the cage of darkness over Zawte was still shattering, shards trickling down like rain.

  “Well, that was rather … Er …” said Simon, when they were well out of sight.

  “Scary?” supplied Horus smugly.

  “Surprising.”

  “Oh who do you think you're kidding. You were scared out of your wits,” Horus grumbled.

  “As if you can talk,” Simon would have crossed his arms at this point, but they were stuck between Horus' shoulder and his own waist. He settled for a disgruntled scowl instead, fully aware that his companion couldn't see it anyway.

  “I wasn't scared,” said Horus peevishly.

  “I don't doubt that,” muttered Simon darkly. “Hanging around with a bunch of lunatics –“

  “It's shameful,” Horus interrupted him. “There is no honour in fleeing like a coward.”

  “But if it means you get out alive...” Simon shrugged, forgetting to look angry. “Well, think about Nef – y – ertari,” he corrected himself hastily. “She wouldn't have liked if you –“ What had he actually wanted to say? He'd never been good at those kind of encouragement talks. It had always been Morgan who was the polite one, the thoughtful, kind and empathic one. “ – got yourself killed,” he finished somewhat lamely.

  Horus didn't respond for a moment, glaring at his bare feet instead, where each toe was adorned with an intricate golden ring.

  “Next time you're face to face with death, you might want to try running,” he said then, giving Simon a start. Had the god just made a joke? Of course, it was a fairly weak one … barely distinguishable as a joke at all, and yet...

  “Well, thanks for the advice,” said Simon dryly. “I'll keep it in mind next time you decide to go awalk with a killer on the loose.” He could hear Horus snort in response, though he thought that, if he wasn't completely wrong, it sounded rather amused.

  “I shall make certain not to find myself in such a position with you again, that much is sure,” said Horus irritably. “You're not much use in a fight, human.”

  “What now?” Simon asked, deciding to ignore the jibe. How could he possibly have predicted he would have to defend himself from a human serpent at some point in his life?

  “We find the Pharaoh,” said Horus shortly and coolly, as though determined to make up for his temporary, nearly amiable slip. It didn't matter much to Simon. He had no intention of becoming bosom friends with either of his kidnappers, though he had to admit he hadn't thought about them thus for at least half a day.

  They didn't head straight toward the tomb but changed direction ever so often, travelling across the Nile river and then doubling back to take another path. Not that Simon could see any paths, but he assumed this was Horus' idea. At some point he also tried to argue to be set back down, but his request was ignored.

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  Horus seemed strangely pensive, almost cautious, all of sudden. His eyes kept flitting to where Simon was dangling from his shoulders, as though he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. Simon wondered whether he had grown an additional head or sprouted feelers, checking his head under the pretence of wiping sweat off his face. No feelers, only one head. And yet he couldn't get rid of the feeling that something had changed, a something that was making his companion nervous.

  As the hours advanced from evening into night, Simon could not help noticing that he was strangely aware of his surroundings. He could see every stone, every creepy, creeping animal, every single grain of sand clearly, as if they had suddenly come into sharper focus. Even Horus was oddly sharp edged all of sudden, the outline of his angular profile sticking out against the dark sky. It was as though Simon only just now seeing him for the first time.

  Simon reckoned it had something to do with the Infinity Key, dangling from his neck and bouncing off Horus' back with every step. It was a miracle that the god hadn't seen it yet. Simon remembered it flashing as he had faced off the apophis, and then the strange vision had come, at the worst time imaginable. And people said survival instinct was the strongest force anybody possessed... He snorted a little. Passing out wasn't the best ever defensive mechanism he could think of.

  But was that really what had happened? It hadn't felt like passing out at all, more like a strange dream in which he was still wide awake... He could remember the rain and London clearly. Morgan had been outside, and he hadn't looked happy at all; in fact, now that Simon thought about it, his cousin had looked quite downcast... But it wasn't real, was it? It had been a vision, a daydream...

  But why then had everything looked so real, unlike any dream he'd ever had? And why had it felt as though he had really been there, being able to smell the pavement and feel the cool, showery breeze on his skin? On the other hand, how could it possibly be real? Thinking made his fatigued brain ache again. He tried to push away the thoughts, the images, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't quite block out his cousin's crestfallen expression.

  It wasn't until the moon had fully risen on the sky that he saw the first signs of human occupation on a low, shadowy hill in the distance. Simon's first impression was that something was off, though he was getting used to that feeling. There was definitely a strange atmosphere about this place, though he couldn't lay a finger on what it was that made him queasy. The outpost wasn't very big, but rather small and unimportant looking, nothing to suggest they were in any kind of danger. If they hadn't been headed straight toward it, he mightn't have noticed the outpost at all.

  Simon, turning back to his front (Horus' back) as his neck began to hurt where he had craned it around to peer into the direction they were headed, found himself wishing that it was their final destination, peculiar or not. He was unspeakably worn out from the troublesome day, the bizarre vision, and could hardly wait to get some rest. He had barely finished this train of thought when Horus came to a halt.

  “Are we there yet?” Simon asked.

  Next moment, he was put back onto the ground with a hushing noise. Simon turned to find himself a stone's throw from the outpost he had seen earlier, shining eerily in the light of the moon. They made their way past the low gate in surrounding fence, Horus fingers resting lightly but alertly on the cuff on his left wrist, as though the accessory were the hilt of a sword. Simon wondered whether they were likely to be attacked, or if it was merely a precaution.

  Close up, it soon became clear that this outpost was no human habitation but a ghost town. Simon could see tombstones overrun with an abundance of parasitic plant life, and small mastabas as they soundlessly stole into the graveyard. A sort of spooky sort of quiet hung like a misty veil over the tomb, not unlike a graveyard in late October.

  A larger tomb made from marble, hung with unruly plantlife and shimmering spiderwebs, and painted with depictions of mythical scenes, sturdily built and almost as tall as a proper cottage, rose out of the ground halfway up the hill.

  It seemed as though they had finally reached their destination, the entrance to the Duat.

  “Look at you two, bonding,” said a female voice brightly from the shadows, making both of them start. Horus fingers twitched on the cuff, then slackened again almost at once.

  Nefertari stepped from behind a gigantic obelisk and out into the ghostly white moonlight, which gave her the appearance of some ethereal, otherworldly spirit of beauty.

  “We're not,” said Simon quickly.

  “That's what I was saying,” said Nefertari.