The mummy, on the other hand, had become a chaotic thing. She had become a swirling mass of linen tendrils. The body of Nephthys was carried in the center of the mire like an insect wrapped in the middle of a nightmarish spider’s web. Her tentacles struck out in all directions, slithering along the ground at Albion’s feet, striking at its well-formed trunk like adders.
Albion’s halo of white furiously deterred the probing tendrils as the linen caromed off the god’s light and smashed against walls, cracking the plaster and sending showers of dust and debris flying. As the fingers of linen were thrown around the church, the intensity of the colors and lights flowing along the hieroglyphs increased. Then finally a strand of linen slipped through and struck Albion. Its eyes widened, but its expression remained staid. Another strip of cloth snapped onto Albion’s arm.
“No, no,” Ash howled frantically. Barnes’s body was bent with one of its arms twisted in a horrific angle. “Do something! Albion won’t survive her!”
Simon struggled back to his feet, intent on trying something, anything, to stop the warring gods. Several tendrils tore up the heavy wooden pews near him. The massive benches crashed around them. He bore Kate to the ground and it felt as if half a hundredweight of bricks had dropped onto him. His head pounded and his ears roared from the pain.
“Kate?” he called out roughly.
Her green eyes blinked up at him. “Still alive. We’re nothing more than an afterthought to them.”
Simon tried to lift the pew off, but it was immovable. His whispered commands failed to bring any strength. The enormous flood of aether cascading around ignored him. It was infuriating, like a phantom limb that seemed to respond but didn’t move. He could do nothing as blow after blow of power rolled across them, pounding their mere human senses into stunned complaisance.
The insane weaving mass that had been Nephthys filled the church, smashing columns, breaking galleries, bringing down showers of stone. A portion of the roof gave way and a huge avalanche of slate and timber crashed to the floor.
Albion raged against the increasing barrage of linen. The countless strands of cloth struck, caressed, and bound the god’s arms and legs, then its chest and neck. Albion braced with a roar that shook the crumbling structure. The glowing giant seized the linen in powerful hands and began to try to draw the horrifying mass that had been a mummy toward the altar. Albion’s divine face was furrowed with pain and effort. Bare feet gouged furrows in the floor as the god fought to pull the Skin of Ra ever closer.
Albion was soon barely visible because of the horrendous linen crawling over it. The light emanating from the god was suffused by the chaos. Albion wrenched a mighty arm out and plunged it into the center of the roiling mass. Light flared from the darkness in the core of the mummified thing. Albion seized the physical heart of Ra, the body of Nephthys. The massive hand of light, fighting against the steel-strong linen that pulled at its fingers, strained to close around the human shape amidst the terror. Albion’s glowing eyes narrowed in triumph, and its mouth tightened in righteous fury.
Then the divine expression changed. Eyes widened with alarm. A blinding burst of light roared from its strong back. Linen strips had sliced deep along Albion’s spine, releasing a raw explosion of power that shattered the stone commandments behind the altar. Multitudes of tendrils suddenly shifted in their attacks and descended on Albion’s back, fighting and crowding for the chance to burrow into the god. Albion looked frightened now, fearing the approach of the void. The glowing white power was being eaten by the ancient cloth.
Countless tendrils clutched Albion. They tightened and tensed. Every hieroglyph flared at once. The god screamed as it was ripped into four pieces. The raw quarters of Albion’s body bled pure light and an exquisite song. For a brief moment, the four zoas re-formed. They appeared panicked and agonized in the grasp of Ra before the tendrils hurled them into the abyss. Darkness fell in the church.
The heavy wood of the pew suddenly shifted and Ash’s dead face peered in. Decaying fingers seized the edges of the bench, and Simon found enough strength to push, sending the wreckage clattering off him and Kate.
Across the church, the hideous tangle of linen drew back into itself, re-forming around the female body at its core. The victorious god stood in the center of the aisle.
“Albion is destroyed.” Ash’s voice was the flat wheeze of the dead. “Everything Pendragon prepared has been wasted. All is lost.”
“That’s rather fatalistic,” Simon said. “I’d always heard there was more steel to you, Ash.”
“There is no sense denying millennia of reality, Archer. I healed you hoping you were more than I suspected, but you are not. The Skin of Ra was crafted to destroy gods and prepare their followers for conquest. Gaios has won. There is no reasonable path now but to hide and pray we survive his wrath.”
Simon grimaced in anger as he used Kate’s shoulder to stand. “I’ll be goddamned if that’s so.”
Chapter Twenty-eight