TITLE: The Wings of Horus
A Mummy fanfic
RATING: PG-13 for violence and language
CATEGORY: Drama, angst, action/adventure
SUMMARY: A falcon figurine carved from solid crystal leads Rick O'Connell and Ardeth Bey into mortal danger. Bad summary, great story, or so I've been told. Read. Review.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first Mummy fic. For the supporters of Imhotep, sorry, he's not in this one. But there's plenty to keep the Ardeth and Rick fan clubs happy.
WARNING: I freely admit this is a work in progress. I have the first chapters written, and the final 3 (the scenes from a dream that inspired the whole story in the first place), but I'm still working on the in-between. As of today, I do intend to finish the story. However, I start back to college next Monday, am having minor surgery on my shoulder on Wednesday, and who knows where my life will go after that? So, read at your own risk. Flames will be doused with buckets of snow that are currently falling outside my Dallas, Texas, apartment, but constructive critique will be much appreciated. Okay. On with the story!
Chapter 1
The form, clad in dark blue robes trimmed with symbols embroidered in silver thread, slid from the shadows. It flowed from the dark recesses of the balcony into the bedchamber with not the slightest sound or ruffle of wind to mark its arrival. Lamplight fell on black waves of hair beneath the turban. Distinctive black tattoos marked the man's cheeks and forehead.
Light reflected off metal hilts and scimitar blades.
Seeing one such reflection against the wall before him, Rick O'Connell turned away from the dresser where he'd just put away the last of his clothing. Spying the shade, he leapt back with an explosive curse.
"Shit!" O'Connell struggled to get his racing heart back under control. "Ardeth, don't you ever knock?"
"Why should I, when this way is so much more of a challenge," the Medjai grinned, "not to mention more fun."
Rick glowered a fake "ha-ha" at his friend. Before he could say more, the desert warrior's expression turned serious.
"I need your help, my friend. A statue has been stolen from a secret site in the Lower Kingdom. It is rumored to be on its way here, to Cairo, for sale to the highest bidder. The Medjai are sworn to retrieve the Wings of Horus and return it to its proper place."
"So what does this statue do? Please, please, please tell me it doesn't raise a mummy or unleash a deadly curse on the entire world or something?"
"Not to my knowledge."
Rick wilted with relief. "Thank God."
"However, it can, according to legend, grant eternal health and long life to the person who can unlock its secrets. Should such a power fall into evil hands, it might well prove equally disastrous."
"You just had to go and spoil it, didn't you?" Rick wagged a scolding finger at his friend. "Why can't artifacts be simple statues? Just lumps of stone with funny faces carved on them."
"In this case," Ardeth said, "the Wings of Horus is not carved from stone but from a single clear crystal. Its eyes are rumored to be a matching pair of flawless amber stones."
"Whoa. How big?"
"According to the elders of the Medjai, the Wings of Horus stands as tall as my hand from wrist to fingertip." The Medjai held up his hand for reference. "His outstretched wings will sit across both my palms."
"Sweet."
Both men heard a faint sound from beyond the door--a single clink of metal against wood. Medjai scimitar and American sidearm slid clear of sheath and holster. Ardeth slid into place to Rick's right, ready to act the instant he pulled the portal open.
The door flew open. Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell yipped and leaped. A rosy blush of color stained cheeks nicely framed by black ringlets that had worked their way from beneath a loose scarf. The book in her hands hit the floor with a solid fhrump.
Rick set the safety and slammed the gun back into its holster. To his errant wife, he said, "Dropping eaves again, are we?"
"No! I-No, I'm not eavesdropping . . . exactly . . . I mean, I was putting away some of my books and heard Ardeth's voice, and I couldn't help but overhear some of what you were saying, but I wasn't . . . I wasn't trying to listen."
"Pull the other one. You might hear a jingling sound."
Amused and relieved to learn their conversation had fallen on friendly ears, Ardeth Bey put away his own weapon and settled onto a nearby chaise lounge, the better to view the expectant drama.
Rick rounded on his grinning friend. "You find this amusing, do you?"
"Actually, yes. I do."
"You do?" Evelyn peeked around the mosquito netting that surrounded her bed.
"Yes. Arguments between the two of you are legend among my people."
"Really?" Evelyn's curiosity momentarily interrupted the argument between them. "Why is that?"
"One can never tell at the end of an argument what precisely started it. It is something of a game to guess at the beginning where the fight will end."
"Oh, I know precisely where this one is going to end," Rick stalked his wife like a prowling cat, "with her spread out over my knees ready for a hard spanking."
"In that case," Ardeth rose to his feet with a fluid, feline grace, "I think I will excuse myself and leave the two of you to it. We will speak more tomorrow, O'Connell." With a wicked twinkle in his eye, he laid his hand over his heart and bobbed his head to the pair. "Enjoy your evening."
Evelyn ducked beneath her husband's arms and darted behind a chair. "Ardeth, you're not leaving me alone with--with him--are you? Ardeth! Ri-eeek!"
Ardeth Bey descended the stairs, pulled the outer doors closed behind him, and faded into the Cairo twilight. The leader of the First Tribe of the Medjai, wise in the ways of the desert, skilled in all facets of survival, knew when not to come between a man and his wife.
TBC