Okay, so I'm back with more fun! And, in point of fact, this afternoon I wrote the end of the last chapter and the epilogue. There IS an end after all! Woot! But, me being me, I get nervous unless I sit on things for a while and do a lot of editing before I post. So it won't be coming just yet. But know that we've got a long, long way to go yet.
Disclaimer: I don't own this stuff. Wish I did. Sad. I can claim partial ownership for Babi and Ma'at, but that's about it. Mighty Max, Mummies Alive, Star Trek…nope. Just borrowing. Kudos to everybody who gets the HHGTTG reference in this chapter, but I don't own HHGTTG either!
Get ready for the beginning of the middle on the way to the end…
The next morning, Max and Presley were their usual, rambunctious selves after a night of real sleep. It had been a near thing, but Presley had calmed his mother down with a phone call, claiming he was stranded by the falling of the bridge but that he was perfectly safe and would come home "when he could," before returning to the museum's pyramid with the mummies. The others had taken the opportunity of a night to recharge, all but Rath, who had wanted very little rest for himself, instead pouring over his scrolls. Virgil remained awake as well, deep in the study of any ancient texts Rath permitted him to see, the snake being very protective of his ancient knowledge. While the morning broke into a day that seemed bright and the sun was warm, everyone knew without being told that this fight was not over yet, and it cast a pall over them.
"What we did last night won't hold him forever," Max said glumly. "There's no way he could come out the other side, but once that portal collapses, chances are pretty good that Babi'll find a way back."
"He's sure powerful enough for it," Armon remarked.
"And with Scarab behind the summoning, he is probably linked to this world," Ja-Kal nodded.
"So what will we do?" Nefertina sat twitching on the couch, hating the enforced idleness.
"That's what they're trying to figure out," Norman pointed over his shoulder where the two scholars furiously read through every parchment they could.
"By my calculations, Babi will return around midnight tonight through the Western Gate," Virgil put in without even looking up from the scroll before his eyes.
"How do you know that?" Presley asked him.
"He's Virgil. He knows," Norman smiled, his voice reverent as when he spoke of Max's gift of knowing things.
"So we don't have much time then..." Ja-Kal said pointedly towards his scholarly teammate.
"Oh, forget this!" Rath exclaimed, standing up. He marched purposely over to the prophetic pyramid on his worktable. Spreading his hands, he commanded, "Sands of the past, reveal your secrets. Where can we find the information we seek?"
The pyramid whirled in place, its pieces resetting themselves like a Rubik's cube. When it stilled, several shapes glowed for a moment before reverting back to largely-unremarkable stone.
"Scroll 42?" read Virgil, doubtfully.
"Of course!" Max shouted, laughing. "Because the answer is always 42!"
While the two boys who understood Max's pop culture reference lost themselves in much-needed laughter, Rath shrugged and sorted through his piles of scrolls until he found the one he wanted. It was cracked with age and dusty, as though it had never been read before. Uncurling it slowly, Rath and Virgil peered into the ancient lore.
"So? What does it say?" Nefertina's impatience hung in the air.
"Oh, my," muttered Virgil.
"It says," Rath said hastily before someone strangled him for making them wait, "that a prophecy was laid down in ancient times. It states that Babi would be called forth to rule in a land with a hidden king, and that destruction and death would overshadow the whole earth forever more."
"That doesn't sound good," Norman grunted.
"Indeed. But it goes on to say that should two kings instead of one call him forth, and should a drop of truth pollute the summoning, then there is a hope for returning the world to peace."
"Two kings. Us," Presley nodded. "No wonder you needed to be here." The boy-prince grinned at Max who shrugged.
"But the drop of truth?" asked Ja-Kal.
"My spell. When I was trying to stop whatever Scarab was doing to our prince and the Mighty One. My healing rain fell in Scarab's cauldron, remember?" Rath said.
"Way to go Rath!" shouted Armon, clapping his skinny friend on the back so hard he caused Rath to stumble.
"Anyway," Virgil picked up the tale, "when those two conditions are met, according to this, it invokes the right to summon Ma'at to our aid."
"Ma'at? Really?" Nefertina said, visibly awed at Virgil's affirmative nod.
"Who is...?"
"Ma'at is the goddess of justice and law," Rath explained before Max could finish his question. "She is the judge of souls, the one who decides if a spirit is to be sent to Babi or onto eternity with Osiris beyond the Western Gate. She is also the goddess of morality and truth, the final authority over all who rule, and to whom all pharaohs are beloved."
"Sounds like a useful lady," Norman remarked.
"Indeed. Her worship was a central part of royal life under Rapses' father," Ja-Kal said fondly. "Amenhotep was very loyal to her."
"So, all we have to do is summon her and she'll kick Babi's...baboon butt?" Max asked impishly.
"It's not that simple, Mighty One," Virgil said. "To summon Babi took only a soul of darkness and greed and a source of great hatred and violence, which, between Scarab and Skullmaster, they had admirably covered. But to summon Ma'at, we must prove ourselves worthy to her."
"And how do we do that?"
"First we must locate the doorway that is now open to her realm," Rath answered Armon. "Then the scroll speaks of challenges we will have to pass in order to be deemed worthy."
"And then she'll rise and take him out?" Presley pressed.
"I believe so, young prince," Virgil smiled. The relief, along with the boyish enthusiasm in his voice reminded the Lemurian of another, similarly-spirited boy he knew quite well.
"Then what are we waiting for?" Max said, jumping to his feet and proving Virgil correct about their similarities. "Let's get going!"
"But where? Don't we have to know where to start?" Nefertina asked.
"Well, if I know a certain ten-thousand year-old chicken like I think I do, he already knows where!"
"I'm a fowl, actually," Virgil said nonplussed. "And you are correct. I do."
"Where?"
"I'm surprised you haven't guessed," Virgil said, smugly turning to the falcon whose eyebrows were knit in confusion. "Egypt is where we begin, of course."
--==OOO==--
As Presley trudged along between his guardians through the deserted forest, his mind was wildly active. The group had, with Virgil's help, plotted a course of portals that would carry them to the precise location where the scholars conjectured they would begin the trials to raise Ma'at. After the fourth such portal, having dropped in on a city in China, a very cold stretch of northern Russia, and now a forest in Manitoba, Presley's thoughts had wandered back to the recent altercations with his friends.
"Are you well, my prince?" Nefertina asked him, her voice light, but an undertone of concern was clear.
"Sure," he replied as nonchalantly as he could. But inside his thoughts, he was anything but well.
"What am I going to do about them?" the boy-prince wondered over and over. "They're so...single-minded. Especially Ja-Kal. I mean, I understand that their whole lives...er...deaths...whatever, are all about protecting me, but sometimes they have to think beyond the immediate. I mean, how can they protect me if they don't help take out Babi before he destroys the world? Or how does letting someone else down help me at all? But it's like there's only black and white: me safe and me not safe. Nothing else computes. Nothing else even exists."
Presley shook his hair out of his eyes, noticing again how different things were for his new friends. Max walked at the head of their procession, flanked by Virgil and Norman, chatting away as though this journey were as routine as going to the store for some milk. The four mummies, by contrast, had formed an honor guard around him, marching silently and vigilantly, as though they expected to run into a war-zone at any moment. He was sure they would have broken formation and let him walk in a less-stately manner if he wanted to talk to Max or something, but the fact that they settled into this pattern so easily illustrated the point exactly.
Worse, things had been incredibly awkward between everyone since the fight on the hill over how to handle Babi. True, Presley had eventually bullied his guardians until they agreed to engage in battle, but it felt so wrong that he had to order them around in the name of the pharaoh's spirit before they would choose to do the right thing. And while on the surface all seemed to have been forgotten, there was a tense undercurrent in the mummies' interactions, not only with Presley, but with each other, and especially with Max, Norman, and Virgil. Presley felt that his guardians blamed the heroes from another world for their prince's discomfort with how things had always been, and that was not fair. Max had opened his eyes, and Presley knew all too well that "because it's always been that way" was not a good enough justification for anything.
"That's it. Hold it," Presley found his voice saying. Without really intending to do it, he decided that the here and now was as good a time as any to hash things out.
"What's up?" Max asked, turning. Blue eyes met green and Max nodded silently, understanding. "Come on. Let's go sit under that tree and I'll try to explain how the DVD player works again," he said, subtly pulling his friends out of earshot. As far as the Mighty One was concerned, this conversation was long overdue.
"Is something amiss, my prince?" Rath asked, as the four mummies moved to face their young friend.
"Yes it is." Presley's voice was suddenly hard as a flood of pent-up feelings and frustrations worked its way loose. "We have got to talk about this."
"About what?" Armon asked, the great ram a little nervous. Even dense as he normally was, the purple guardian had a good idea of what was coming.
"About how you treat me and how you do things! We're going to set a couple of ground rules, guys," Presley tried to hold in his emotions, but he could tell they were slipping through. "One. Just because I am safe does not mean you get to bail. If other people are in danger, you have to help them."
"But..."
"I'll tell you when I'm done!" Presley snapped, ignoring the interruption. "Two. Sometimes I'm going to be in danger but we're going to go ahead with whatever we need to do because it's the right thing to do. Deal with it. Three. I am not made of glass. If you ever want me to be anything at all, you have got to let me take some risks."
"But you could get hurt!" Ja-Kal interjected.
"I don't care! I'm never going to learn how not to get hurt unless I screw up a couple of times on my own!"
"But even one time could be too often," Ja-Kal replied, voice suddenly cold.
"Ja-Kal..." Nefertina warned.
"No, the prince has had his time, and I will speak freely," he cut her off. Holding the boy's eyes with his own, he said harshly, "We are not going to let you put yourself at risk for any reason, Prince Rapses. Granted, we should not overlook our responsibility to others and concern ourselves solely with you to the degree that we have, but your third condition is impossible. We learned the hard way that a risk is not worth the price."
"Look," Presley breathed, something between guilt and fury building inside, "we need to get something straight here, Ja-Kal. I may be the reincarnated Rapses, but it wasn't me that got everybody killed, okay? You can't blame me for what happened, so stop doing it!"
"We don't blame you," put in Armon, voice soft.
"We know it wasn't your fault," added Rath, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Nefertina nodded, eyes watery at the stricken look on his face.
"Then why do you treat me like I'm the one who screwed up? Do you know how hard it is to be held responsible for all your deaths?"
"You are not responsible for what happened to us." Ja-Kal's voice was quiet, flat, and he was holding his face as though it were stone. "I am responsible, not you, Presley."
"No, you're not! It was Scarab!" shouted Nefertina.
"I am our leader," Ja-Kal said, turning to the other mummies. "The blame lies with me and no one else. Everything has been my fault." He dropped to one knee, putting himself at eye-level with Presley.
"It wasn't your fault," the boy said staunchly.
"It was. And we are all paying the price for it, even you. It's true we don't let you risk yourself. It's true we do not want you in danger, even if it means you would prove your strength in battle. You're not wrong about any of it. But I believe what you have missed is why we act this way." The falcon appeared to be almost pleading with his friend to understand.
"Tell me why."
"Because we cannot lose you again. You are our duty, our one purpose on earth, Presley. The soul that resides within you is worth more than all four of us put together. We must protect it at all costs, even if it hurts you, or us, sometimes. But it isn't just that we do this because we have to, because of oaths taken before the pharaoh eons ago." His voice became even softer and his eyes glittered.
"Then why?" Presley asked, pushing for an answer yet fearing it all the same.
"You have never really known what it was like for us to fail you. We never have. And we never will. Because the anguish of that moment, of knowing Rapses had died, of losing him, is not something we could bear again. We cannot let you get hurt, Presley. Your death killed us once, not our bodies, but our spirits. If we fail and you...and it happens again, I do not believe our souls would survive the loss a second time."
"Ja-Kal..." Presley hesitated at the suffering on the face of his mentor.
"He's right, you know." Nefertina reached out and hesitantly put her hand on Presley's other shoulder. "We protect you because we can't watch you get hurt again. Just like you can't watch something like Babi hurt other people."
"It isn't that we don't feel that we need to protect the world from something like that," Armon agreed gently, "but that we'd rather see you safe and let Babi have his fun than put you at risk for the sake of anybody else."
"But I...I can't matter that much! The world is a lot more important that I am!" Presley argued.
"So we thought, once," Rath answered sadly. "Now we know that the world will shatter around us if we let you get hurt. That doesn't mean we shouldn't help when we can, but if we have to choose between anybody else and you, our choice is made."
"But...but it's wrong!" Presley argued.
"In a way, yes, it is," Ja-Kal nodded. "And it is rather selfish of us to set you so high on a pedestal. But the den mother cares only for her pups and will leave her mate in the hunter's trap." A shadow flickered across the falcon's face and a deep pain resonated in his eyes, but he continued, "There may be a better balance than what we have yet found, but I think we would rather err on your side all the same."
--==OOO==--
"What do you think?" Norman asked Max, watching the others. Although they were out of earshot, body language spoke louder than even Presley's shouting.
"I don't think they've really talked like this before," Max said softly. "And they need to."
"Well, I believe this is long overdue," Virgil said primly. "To ignore the fate of the world like that, even for the prince, is unconscionable."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Norman said gravely. "I would."
"You would not," Virgil dismissed him. "You would abide by the prophecy and the needs of the world."
"If it were the Mighty One? No, Virgil, I would protect him. And so would you. You've even done it before."
"Well... That is, I... Oh, all right, I suppose you may have a point, but nonetheless, admirable as your feelings are, that is no excuse to endanger the lives of countless millions for the sake of only one person." Virgil sputtered and crossed his arms, glaring.
"Have you guys ever heard of a guy named Spock?" Max piped up suddenly. At their blank looks he continued, "Dude from the original Star Trek. They had this argument in one of the movies, you know. 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one,' is what he said when he sacrificed himself to save everyone. But in the next movie, his friends believed that the needs of the one, Spock, outweighed their needs, and they saved him. And by saving him, they saved the world, too."
"I never would have figured you for a Trekkie," Norman said slyly.
"I'm not a Trekkie! But everybody's seen those movies at some point when they were on TV late at night and couldn't sleep..." Max protested, turning slightly red.
"I believe your point is well taken, however," Virgil sighed thoughtfully. "In theory, the fate of the world is far more important. But when dealing with someone one cares for deeply, those priorities can become skewed in favor of the preferential leanings of the heart. And perhaps, as in your example, the dichotomy of one against the other can actually be resolved as acting in everyone's best interest overall even if sequentially one should have preceded the other."
"What?"
"He says you're probably right," Norman translated.
"I have got to learn to speak Lemurian," Max sighed.
--==OOO==--
Presley looked at his feet awkwardly. This conversation had taken a turn off the highway and now seemed to be on some unknown road, one he had not anticipated. Deep down, he was touched by the concern and blatant care from his friends, but a part of him still burned. He looked for a way to tell them how he felt, and a flash of inspiration struck.
"Ja-Kal, the eagle throws her chicks out of the nest so they can learn to fly. If they fall, she will catch them until they learn, but she knows they cannot learn to fly while sitting beside her safe in the nest. They have to fall to fly. So do I."
In the silence that followed, Presley had the horrible sinking fear that he had finally gone too far, that he had driven something between himself and his friends, especially Ja-Kal, something that would divide them. He wanted to shout that he took it all back, that he was sorry, but he kept still. Sometimes doing the right thing hurt, he knew that, and he could not back down now having come so far.
"He's right, Ja-Kal," Nefertina finally broke the silence. "Rapses never did learn to fly, but if we try and give him a chance, maybe we can teach Presley. And the more he can do for himself, the safer he will be in case anything ever does prevent us from catching him."
"I...I will consider it," Ja-Kal said softly, standing up again. The falcon turned away, eyes pointedly avoiding contact from anyone. He moved quietly away.
"Thanks, Nefertina," Presley whispered.
"Hey, you've always been there for me when I wanted to break tradition. It's the least I can do," she smiled wanly.
"We will have to wait for Ja-Kal's decision, you know," Armon pointed out. "He is still our leader."
"Yeah, I know," the boy answered. "But I feel better knowing you know how I feel."
"In the meantime, I believe we should consider taking greater care to involve ourselves in threats to the city or the world at large, and not only for your sake," Rath said.
"Good," Presley said shyly.
"And my prince? Before you get any more bright ideas from the Mighty One, why don't you talk to us before it becomes an issue?" Nefertina asked, a small smile softening the chastisement. "We'd much rather talk to you in the quiet than fight with you while there's danger around."
Presley nodded. Things weren't right yet, but at least now there was a hope that they could be better.
--==OOO==--
Ja-Kal could no longer look at his young prince, so instead he moved away, only half-listening to the others behind him. Nothing he had said was a lie, not exactly. Certainly he had been more honest about his feelings towards the boy than ever before. But there were plenty of things he hadn't said, and if he met Presley's honest green eyes much longer, those hidden truths would have found a way out. As the group began to hesitantly resume their hike through the woods to the next portal, Ja-Kal found himself marching several yards in front of his team and prince, a margin he would not normally allow. This time, however, the distance was not great enough. He wanted space to think, to sort out the conflicting emotions and responsibilities Presley's words had loosed inside.
"Everything that happened was my fault. I failed them all: my fellow guardians, Tia and Padjet, Prince Rapses, and the pharaoh. No matter what, I cannot fail again. But what if my reluctance to help Presley fly, as he put it, causes me to fail again after all? Or, what if I trust him, teach him to fly, only to let him down and have history repeat itself? Is it worth it to risk stunting the boy's development to ensure he grows to reach manhood?" he thought worriedly.
He felt torn again, between his desire to be what Presley needed, not just a guardian but a friend and father, and to be what the law dictated, a protector and teacher, nothing more. Added to this remained forever the burden that he had had a son and lost him. Not only did Ja-Kal feel unworthy to be trusted as a father-figure again, but he feared it. If he had failed his own flesh and blood, what could he do to the boy who so depended on him now? The crawling guilt and insecurity from three and a half millennia past made it so easy to go back to the formalized, traditional norms of guardianship. It was a lot less intimidating, and a lot easier, to follow protocol and ignore the clamor of his heart. But the heart has a way of making itself heard, and the falcon could not quite drown out its words.
"And what about me? What about what I want?" What do I want?" It was a complicated question, but several answers were clear.
"I want to protect my prince, and never to let him come to harm again."
"I want to restore my lost honor, and that of Nefertina, Rath, and Armon."
"I want to be with Tia and Padjet again."
"I want to be as a father to Presley."
But Ja-Kal's stubborn nature refused to let him accept that all his desires could be met. The first two were easy: all he had to do was remain loyal to his duty as per the ancient tradition of Egypt and honor would follow. The third, the most painful, he could not achieve for himself. The secret hope of Ja-Kal's heart was that he would ascend to the eternity beyond the Western Gate when Presley's life eventually ended, where he would at last have the rest with his family he so longed for. In the meantime, he continued to torture himself over their loss. And the fourth...
"No. I can't. If I let myself come any closer to him than I already have, I will lose sight of my duty and I will fail again. I am the prince's guardian and teacher, no more. I cannot be anything else. My loyalty to him is infallible, and my heart must be a stone. That is a line I dare not cross. It is better for both of us this way."
But Ja-Kal never really considered whether burying his feelings for his young friend was an act of loyalty and courage, or of cowardice.
--==OOO==--
Tumbling from the portal, Max looked up to see, not a dry and sandy desert as he had expected, but rugged, rocky mountains, barren of life. As he started to his feet, he felt a sudden tug on the back of his shirt that pulled him right off the ground.
"Watch out, Mighty One," Norman said solidly as he set the boy on his feet. Gesturing to the spot where Max had been kneeling only a heartbeat before, neither Guardian nor Cap-Bearer could resist a smile.
"Get off of me, you overgrown oaf!" Rath shouted from somewhere in the middle of a pile of mummies. Armon, sprawled on top, smiled sheepishly.
"Hey, I'm under here, too!" Presley groaned, half-trapped under Ja-Kal.
"Serves you right for not watching where you were going," Nefertina admonished her fellow guardians as she yanked Armon off the others. She alone, largely due to her incredible agility, had remained out from underneath Armon's bulk.
"I don't believe I'll ever get used to that," Ja-Kal sighed, righting himself and pulling Presley to his feet.
"You will. It becomes easier with time," Virgil said mildly. He and Norman had both landed neatly upright. Overall, Max made a graceful exit about half the time, and that was an improvement.
"So, are we here?" the Mighty One asked, looking around. Having spent only a few moments in the dry heat, he could already feel himself getting uncomfortably warm. Even half a day ahead of San Francisco, the setting sun still burned through the sky.
"Indeed," Virgil said. "Those are the mountains of eastern Egypt, almost equidistant between the Nile River and the Red Sea itself."
"Uh, guys?" Presley asked, looking at his four friends.
The mummies were facing west, instinctively orienting themselves in their native land. Although the only sights from here were more hills that eventually gave way to empty desert, it was as though they could feel the presence of their homeland. As the boy-prince moved to stand with them, he felt a tug in his own heart. This, then, was the land of his soul. Even though he knew that it was the Nile's river valley that was truly what they would have called "home," the power of returning to a familiar part of the world still held them all spellbound for a moment.
Then Presley's heart gave an unexpected leap, as though suddenly remembering the pain of its early end on these sands, and he didn't want to look anymore. Turning instead to his friends, he put a hand on Ja-Kal's arm.
"It...has been a very long time, my prince," the falcon said, shaking himself out of his reverie. "Come. We cannot dwell in the past." His voice was its customary commanding tone, but there was a strain of longing beneath it. This was the land of his family.
"We must head south from here," Rath began, closing his heart to his own memories. "The doorway will be just a short hike this way."
"How short?" Max asked. He knew from long experience that measuring distance was relative. To him, short could be measured in city blocks; to Norman, short meant he could get there in one day of hard marching.
No one answered the question, but to both boys' relief, Presley not being at all accustomed to wandering around random parts of the world like this, after reaching the pinnacle of a rise, they could see their destination. Beyond the next rocky hill was what appeared at a distance to be some kind of natural stone formation. That is, it would have appeared to be natural if it weren't glowing.
As the heroes made their careful way towards their obvious goal, Max began to get one of those bad feelings again. It felt to the Cap-Bearer like pressure was increasing all around them, the way it does in an airplane as it slowly ascends into the sky. Something was building, something big. Something important. A glance at Norman, Rath, and Ja-Kal told him that the seasoned warriors, and the sorcerer, were also aware of it.
"Be careful, Mighty One," Virgil warned as they finally approached the site. A stone arch, not quite symmetrical but obviously very deliberately built, stood alone at the top of the rise. It glowed with a soft bluish-white that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. To the front and right of the doorway, since that was clearly what it was, stood a small pedestal with something written on the slanted top. The whole thing reminded Presley of a podium turned to look at a screen for a presentation. Through the arch, the continuing landscape was clearly visible.
"What's this say?" Max asked as he stepped close to the outcropping pedestal. It was too tall for Virgil's short stature, so Rath moved to read it.
"Beyond is the doorway of Ma'at.
Enter only you born worthy of kings,
But leave the world with no hope of return.
I wake only for the just,
And my hand will bring you home
If I deem you righteous and deserving of favor.
But be warned all who dare my power,
For your trials within will be great,
And to prove yourself unworthy is to end in flame."
"Which means...?" Armon asked.
"Basically, if we go in there, we cannot turn back. The only way we'll get out again will be if Ma'at lets us go. And should we fail, we will be condemned to the underworld," Rath answered.
"Oh, great. So it's a no-pressure sort of thing," Presley said nervously. He and Max shared a glance: they really did not want to go in there.
"My prince..." Ja-Kal began hesitantly. He was suddenly unsure of this course of action.
"Look out!" Norman roared as a shadow fell over them from behind. Whirling instinctively, the heroes were universally horrified to see the enormous form of a baboon looming over them.
"Babi!" Presley exclaimed.
"Indeed," the god smiled.
"Virg, I thought you said we had until midnight!" Max shouted. "In San Francisco! Not here!"
"Yes, well I..." Virgil began, calculations running unsuccessfully behind his eyes. "I thought we did!"
"You think so three-dimensionally, old friend" came a familiar mocking voice. Max, Norman, and Virgil all looked up with deepening dread to see a sort of misty outline standing on Babi's shoulder. The figure was unmistakable.
"Skullmaster!"
"Yes, Cap-Bearer. Alas, though I am not yet again free of my prison, you continue to underestimate my powers. Did you really think I had not anticipated your clever plan to trap Babi between the space of the universe?"
"With the help of this lord of the underworld, I broke free of your trap," Babi scowled, menacing closer to the group. "And it was he who warned me of your plan to prevent my destined command of the world."
"You are mistaken," Ja-Kal called up to the form. "You are destined for nothing as the prophecy clearly states. We will send you back beyond the Western Gate and you will harm no one."
"Look, you really don't want to be messing with Skullmaster," Max yelled, feeling something rise up in his stomach. Fear. "He's seriously evil. There's a good reason he's locked in the center of my earth."
"What precisely did you think Babi was, boy?" the bone-faced demon of Max's nightmares laughed. "He and I are true kindred spirits. While he unfortunately cannot set me free, he can and will force your hand. And then the world, no, all worlds, will be mine!"
"And I will have unbridled power and will rain destruction upon the earth. All will fall to chaos and fire for all time and all living creatures will suffer. And you will be the first!" Babi crowed.
"Run!" Norman shouted as Babi moved forward, again beginning to spit fire. The little group raced for the only possible exit, the doorway to Ma'at.
"But..." Presley began, hesitating.
"No time!" Nefertina called, grabbing his wrist.
Max reached the arch first. He could feel something powerful, terrifyingly so, almost tugging at him. Unlike the portals, or even the powers of the Lemurian Arcana, this gateway pulsed with the kind of raw, unbridled power that thunderstorms produce in small amounts. He took a deep breath, knowing as soon as he touched the center of the glowing doorway that he would feel the wild energies of creation as he had only once before, and that had not been a pleasant experience.
"Go, Mighty One!" Rath shouted as the others drew near.
Taking a deep breath, Max threw himself unflinchingly through the gateway, the rest of his friends at his heels. Skullmaster's triumphant laughter echoed after them as they vanished from the world as they knew it.