Chapter One
What she had to do had been forbidden to her for thousands
of years before her mother ever took a man into her bed. It had been forbidden to all of her kind, but
now – as the last – she had no choice.
She slumped lower over the neck of the camel as another wave
of pain swept over her from the wound in her side. It weakened her, and in rebellion she grasped
the small convex gold disk more firmly in the palm of her hand. She felt its edges bite in and drive back the
pain as she whispered her prayer to Isis, then with a
huge effort pulled herself upright, swaying in the saddle and urging the camel
onward toward the city, still little more than a speck in the distance.
**
"Evie, this is supposed to be a vacation!" Rick sighed and
looked skyward as he followed his wife.
She marched into the Cairo Museum of Antiquities and
straight into the curator's office without even knocking and stood glaring at
the man as he smiled up into her angry face.
"My dear Mrs O'Connell," he began, standing to come around
the desk and greet her. Rick saw him
glance his way and threw him a helpless look.
"Don't you Mrs O'Connell me!" Evie snapped. "You promised me that if there was ever the
HINT of the possibility of finding that place you would call me at once."
"Evelyn…" Rick started, knowing his wife's temper and what
she was capable of once she started.
"And you stay out of this!" She rounded on him. "You didn't want to come here, and I suppose
this is the reason… You KNEW about this
didn't you?"
"Now just hold on a minute," he wasn't prepared to take the
blame or bear the brunt of her temper just because she had found out about the
search from the local newspaper. "I see
nothing wrong with Venice, it's a
nice romantic location and…"
"You KNEW!" she accused again.
"I did not," he stated flatly. "Just that every time we come to this place
you manage to get us into some kind of trouble…"
"I manage!" Rick
couldn't hold his face straight as Evie started almost spluttering. "I get us into trouble!" She growled at him and half turned away just
as the curator of the museum cleared
his throat.
"Mrs O'Connell, we merely wanted to be sure that it was not
just some kind of hoax before we troubled you to come all the way from England,"
he said diplomatically.
"I bet." The sarcasm in her voice did little to suppress
Rick's badly hidden smile. "Let me see
the parchment."
"It is not here, it…"
"Let me see the parchment."
She wasn't going to take no for an answer, but before the curator could
agree or refuse they were interrupted by a loud crash from the main room of the
museum. Evelyn sighed impatiently. "Jonathan!
Will you PLEASE be careful in there?"
"What?" Each one of
the three people in the small office spun around to face the direction of the
confused voice. Rick glanced back over
his shoulder through the other door as Jonathan poked his head into the room
through the door leading, not into the Museum itself, but into the storage room
beside the office.
"Jonathan?" Evie
asked almost fearfully. "That wasn't
you, was it?"
He frowned in confusion just as the sound came again. This time Rick turned to face the door and
drew out one of the pistols he had for some reason thought to put on after they
woke from their afternoon nap. "Stay
here," he told them all. "I'll go take a
look."
Slowly, inch by inch, he opened the door and peered into the
dimly lit room full of glass cases and priceless exhibits. Seeing nothing out of place he slowly crept
forward, leading with his gun one small step at a time. Movement to his left had him halt suddenly
beside a tall glass case, housing a large statue of the goddess Bastet. His heart lurched and he spun around quickly,
pointing his gun, ready cocked at the space where whatever had nudged him
should have been.
Evie gasped.
"Jesus, Evie, I told you to stay put!" He put his gun aside and pulled her so that
she too was hidden by the glass case. "I
nearly blew your head off."
"Yes well," she answered sternly, straightening her blouse,
"I've told you before about those guns of yours."
"Ssshhh!" he chided, and they both peered around the case as
another crash closer but still to their left brought their attention back to
the matter at hand.
**
Silent as the shifting sand and swifter than death, the
black clad figures closed on the two men half hidden behind their caravan
guards, as they dusted off the tablet they were taking such pains to
uncover. Their leader held up a hand,
and as one they stopped and flattened themselves against the rocks at the edge
of the rise.
He squinted against the sun as he looked toward what may, or
may not yet prove to be his prey and sighed.
Never satisfied… always searching for bigger and greater treasures, and
though they were far from the fallen ruins of Hamanaptra there were yet other
things, and sacred places, and the virtue of many generations of Pharaohs to guard
against those with no respect.
One of the men he watched raised his voice in excitement,
and called to one of the guards to bring him something from the horses. Ardeth sighed again; these men left him no
choice. Silent still, he swept his hand,
palm down in an arc before him. Like
shadows, the Medjai surged over the ridge.
The fight was swift and brutal, but soon Ardeth had the
guards subdued, and in the custody of his most trusted. He stepped out to face the astonished
treasure seekers.
"Leave this place," he instructed calmly. "There is nothing for you here."
"Medjai!" The older of the two men spat the word as though
it were the worst insult.
Ardeth bristled inwardly, but calmly said, "Indeed. If you know of us, then you also know that I
will not allow you to continue your trespass in this place." From the corner of his eyes, he caught the
flash of metal, glinting in the sunlight from the rocks overhead. Reflex guided what vision could not, and a
man tumbled with a cry from his hiding place to land between Ardeth and the two
leaders of the expedition, Ardeth's dagger sticking up from his neck. "Leave now, and I will allow you to live." He leaned down to retrieve his weapon, never
once taking his eyes off the two men.
"You haven't heard the last of this, Medjai!"
Ardeth sighed, the third sigh of the afternoon. "I hope, for your sake, that I have." He
answered, and turned away, instructing two of his men to go and retrieve their
horses from around the rocks, and two others to follow the small caravan back
to their camp. "Make sure that they do
not return," he said in his native tongue.
"You are troubled." His second in command brought Ardeth's
mount to him as he stood leaning against the stone the men had been so keen to
uncover.
"The desert is unsettled today," he answered. "Look at the colour of the sky."
"You worry too much." The other man clapped him on the
shoulder. "You need the love of a good
woman to take away your tension."
Ardeth smiled, but the smile soon faded. "No, my friend." He turned to look at the tablet that was
partially uncovered, running his eyes over the inscriptions, but always finding
his attention drawn back to one particular symbol. Making a sudden decision he swung himself up
into the saddle of his horse. "I do not
like the way this feels. Cover
that." He pointed back to the tablet,
and his men hurried to do so. "We ride
for Cairo."
**
"It's a woman," Evie said as she and Rick looked down at the
figure lying amid shards of pottery and broken glass. She was slight, little more than the size of
a child. Her long straight black hair
made Evie think of the figures in Egyptian paintings. She wore long, sand coloured robes, but
underneath, where the robe had shifted aside, Evie caught sight of more exotic
clothing. It was then that she saw the blood
that had soaked through the side of her robes.
"Rick she's hurt." She crouched
down and tried to move the woman's robes aside.
As soon as her hand encountered the fabric the woman stirred and shied
away. "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."
Behind her Evelyn heard the others arrive as she reached
down again, hoping that the woman had understood her, but found her attention
pulled back to the woman as she began mumbling something. Evelyn leaned closer and became aware that the
way she did had them all looking at her expectantly.
"M…m…. eh… j… eye," the woman muttered.
"What is she saying?" Jonathan leaned down to put his head
closer to Evie's. The woman tried to
move away, still muttering. Evie waved
Jonathan back.
"M… eh… j…eye."
"Well I can't be sure," Evie started slowly, "but I think
she's saying…"
"Med…jai, Med… jai, Medjai," the woman started muttering
incoherent the single word over and over again.
"…Medjai." Evie finished.
"Come on, lets get her somewhere more comfortable," Rick
moved Evie aside and bent down, meaning to pick up the woman and carry her
through into the office, where they could put her onto the couch.
"Na!" Using strength
she found from somewhere, she rolled away from Rick's outstretched hand and
skittered backwards, pushing over a nearby vase between them.
"Rick." Evie put her hand in the middle of his chest, and
pushed him gently away. They both
watched as she slid back down to the ground, when she once more took up her
mumbling chant. "He won't hurt you,"
Evie approached the woman.
"Careful, Evie."
Jonathan told her, looking at her full of worry.
"You can't stay here, you need help." Evie ignored her brother and continued on
toward the woman. As she got even closer
an arm flailed outward. Evie jumped
back.
"Allah be merciful!" Everyone, Evelyn included turned toward
the Curator at his exclamation of horror.
"What?" Rick snapped, "What?
Is it this?" He reached for the woman's hand, and the sign on the inside
of her left wrist.
"No, don't touch her.
You mustn't touch her!" The tone in his voice made Evelyn reach out and
grab Ricks hand to pull him away.
"Why mustn't he?" She asked.
"Who is she?"
"You," the Curator said instead of answering her question,
"You must carry her."
"Now wait a minute.
My wife is not carrying anyone..."
"And you," the curator turned to Rick, "Ride into the desert
and find the Medjai."
"Oh yeah, sure, like they're real easy guys to find – if
you're poking about in a musty old hole that you're not supposed to be in, but
FIND them? In the desert? Are you out of your mind?" Evie tried to reach her husband, to calm him.
"You don't understand."
The curator said. "This woman is
hurt… she needs help and she will not allow you to touch her. Your wife is the only one… the only woman…"
"And the Medjai are all men…" Rick argued.
"Please… you have to go," the Curator rang his hands, "If
she dies before we can get the Medjai to her, it will be bad for us all." Rick turned and gave Evie an extremely
meaningful look as she neared the woman and picked up her slight form into her
arms.
**
Meirionnydd tried to push the cup away from her mouth, and
then the arm that held the cup as her head was forced back and more of the foul
tasting liquid was poured into her throat, almost choking her.
"Don't choke the girl!"
As if the force feeding wasn't bad enough, the arrival of the man that
had taken her from her home in the dead of the night and had brought her to
this nightmarish place made her feel twice as sick as she already did.
He came closer, and the cup was pulled away from her mouth
and she was dropped back to the rough bedding, to roll aside and retch,
bringing up nothing but bile onto the dirt floor. She shuddered as he began to stroke her hair,
sitting on the side of her bed.
"Don't fight it this time… let the vision take you," he said
in a soft voice that she knew was for her benefit.
"I want to go home!" She spat, and tried to pull herself
away from him. The sudden movement made
the room begin to swim.
"But my dear you ARE home," he said.
"No! Home… to my
mother!"
"Your mother is dead!" He snapped, and the words, as they
always did, brought tears to her eyes.
"She died the moment after she gave you life because she would not give
up her futile resistance…"
"I don't know what you're talking about," she whimpered as
he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "My mother is home… in Wales. Please let me go."
"Show me what I want and we shall see…" he caressed her face
– her high cheekbones, and then wound his hand into her long hair to once more
pull her head back and open her mouth.
And then the relentless pouring began again.
She was drowning in the bitter, numbing liquid, but that
wasn't the worst of it. Already she
could feel the fog beginning to gather in her brain. She feared it. It brought the visions – horrible visions…
the worst of nightmares, full of creatures and spirits and…
"Anton!" With her fading awareness of the real world she
heard the man that burst in on her torture. The cup was taken away again… a small blessing
as she was once more dropped roughly to the makeshift bed.
"So that's his name," she vaguely registered the thought in
her head.
"How DARE you burst in when I'm working," Anton said angrily
to the newcomer.
"Medjai," the newcomer gasped.
"What?"
"The Medjai stopped us from uncovering the tablet!"
The last thing Meirionnydd saw before her mind drifted into
the nightmare of vision was Anton as he practically took the room apart,
cursing and swearing about something called the Medjai…
…and onto the foggy canvass of her brain a new sight
presented itself, of a tall dark warrior, robed and fierce looking, with
flowing black hair and a tattooed face.
Only his eyes remained, kind and sad – and seemed to be looking straight
into her.
