Genesis

by Michael Alan

A young Ardeth Bay comes of age and begins his destiny as a Medjai.

GENESIS

PROLOGUE

1894

The rainstorm had closed in on the village of Al-Kahir two hours after sunset. The rain fell in drenching sheets, hammering the roofs of tents and other structures. It was now well pass midnight, and the storm was still raging on. A noise suddenly appeared, as if trying to break through the rage of the storm. A scream.

Dalja Bay screamed loudly. Kneeling at her side, her husband, Muhallah, held her hand in his. "It's okay," he said quietly. "It will be over soon."

Dalja had been in labor for nearly five hours. "I can see the head," the doctor said. "Push. Push."

Dalja pushed and screamed again.

"That was good. Again, again."

She did so. Muhallah put a hand to her head, patting the beads of sweet with a folded wet cloth.

"Almost there," the doctor said. "Again."

One final scream, one final push, and then there was the sound of a baby crying. Dalja laid her head back in exhaustion as the doctor lifted the baby. "It's a boy." Another village woman, who had been waiting nearby, cleaned the baby up with a towel before wrapping it in a thick dry blanket and passing it over to Muhallah.

He took the baby delicately, cradling him in his arms, smiling. He pushed the blanket away from his face and leaned down, handing it to Dalja. She struggled to sit up and held the baby in her arms. She smiled. "He's so beautiful," she said. "What shall we name him, Muhallah?"

He seemed to think for a moment, then said, "Ardeth."

Dalja looked at her new child. "Ardeth Bay," she said. As if in response, the baby made something that sounded like a giggle and waved its arms.

CHAPTER 1

1904

"Ardeth?"

The call went unanswered, the voice echoing into the dark mountain cave. Eight-year-old Muhammad nervously scratched the back of his hand. He listened as his voice bounced back to him from the darkness that his older brother had disappeared into moments before. He shivered in the cool morning breeze and pulled his clothes tighter around him.

"Ardeth?" Again, no answer. He swallowed nervously and took a step forward.

Ardeth Bay suddenly lunged out of the darkness with a yell. Muhammad screamed and stumbled back, falling to the dirt. Ardeth fell into a fit of laughs. "That wasn't funny," Muhammad said, getting to his feet.

"You should have seen the look on your face," Ardeth barely got out before laughter hit him again.

"I should hit you with a rock." He started searching for one.

"If you think it will make you feel better." A noise caught their attention, a ringing sound. A bell. "Come on," Ardeth said.

He set off down the path with Muhammad on his heels. "Wait for me, Ardeth."

They came through the rocky outcroppings and emerged at the top of the hill. They could see people gathering in the village below and hurried to make their way down. When they reached the village, nearly everyone else had already gathered. He saw his father standing outside his tent, flanked by the other eleven leaders of the Medjai tribes. Muhallah was the commander of the first tribe of the Medjai, and he was respected by all those who in his and the other tribes.

Ardeth and his brother found a place to stand beside Rashid, his best friend. "What's going on?" he asked.

But before Rashid could answer, his father began. "The time has come. To choose our future Medjai warriors. We will state the names of those who have come of age this year, and you will step forward. Abdul. Jadidah. Rashid. Ardeth."

Ardeth and Rashid stepped forward and made their way through the villagers, turning at the front and standing in line with the other two boys who had been called.

Muhallah stood behind them and raised his arms. "These four boys will begin testing today. And their outcome will determine whether or not they will become Medjai warriors."

The crowd before them cheered. Ardeth couldn't help by feel a little proud. Every boy in the village dreamed of one day becoming a Medjai, and it was now his day.

An hour later, they were following the tribe commanders out of the village toward the nearby hills, which housed the Medjai training grounds. It was a series of obstacles, from climbing rigs to traversing a narrow log suspended several feet above the ground.

Muhallah and the other commanders took up positions to one side of the training ground, shaded by an overhead rock ledge. "Each of you will perform one obstacle at a time," Muhallah said. "How you perform will determine your position for the next obstacle. Your overall performance will determine whether or not you become a Medjai."

The boys were lined out by order of their names: Abdul, Ardeth, Jadidah, and Rashid.

"Begin."

Abdul went to confront the first test. He was to climb a large rock outcropping to the top, jump to the one beside it, then climb down it to the ground. He began climbing up the first rock, looking for possible handgrips, but there were none. He almost slipped at one point, but caught himself and made it to the top. Standing at the edge, he pushed himself through the air and almost missed the second outcrop, but made it with one leg hanging over. He hurried to the other side and climbed down as best he could, then ran around and returned to the line.

As usual, the commanders showed no reaction. Reactions could either make a wouldbe Medjai overconfident or depressed to where he just wouldn't care about trying to win.

"Ardeth."

Ardeth broke into a sprint and made for the first outcrop. He jumped up onto the surface and started climbing, hands and feet moving quickly, climbing like a spider. At the top he didn't slow down, but instead, quickened his pace as he ran to the edge and leapt through the air, landing in the center of the next outcrop. Without breaking his pace, Ardeth moved to the far edge and, seeing it was sloped, simply slid down on his back. His feet on the ground, he ran back to the line.

After Jadidah and Rashid finished, they moved onto the next test. A series of five foot tall logs protruded from the ground, several feet apart, and each of them had to make their way from one end to the other without falling and without pausing for more than two seconds on each log. Abdul fell from the second to last one and mumbled under his breath. Ardeth leapt from pole to pole with no hesitation inbetween, and Jadidah and Rashid performed good as well.

The training continued for several hours, with exercises to test agility, strength, and prowess. When it was all over, the boys were clearly exhausted. The tribe commanders descended from their viewing point and came toward them. They waited as Muhallah addressed each boy. "Abdul, Jadidah. You have much to practice and learn. Rashid. You performed quite well. Ardeth. You were most impressive. We will make a Medjai out of you yet."

Ardeth could barely contain his excitement. He wanted to jump up and down, shouting and hollering, waving his arms in the air, but he knew that wasn't Medjai material. So he instead smiled and said, "Thank you, father."

As the years went by, the training continued. Once his physical abilities had been sharpened, he began the fight training. His teacher, Jirrja, instructed him and Rashid in how to use various weapons and fighting techniques. Ardeth was a quick learner and picked up things fast, sometimes even helping explain things to Rashid as if he were the teacher. Jirrja would stand to the side and smile to himself in amusement.

The two were put through even more tests, some which combined different teachings and required them to demonstrate one thing while performing another at the same time. Ardeth and Rashid would take part in sword fights while standing atop the poles, not an easy task. It was more difficult than it looked, and even Ardeth had trouble with it at first. There were also sword fights atop large outcrops, where they had to maneuver around on top of them, swords swinging, until one fell to the sand below.

One day, Muhallah came out to see how his son was performing. "How is Ardeth doing?"

"Very impressive," Jirrja said. "Very impressive."

Sometimes Jirrja would take part in an exercise, pretending to ambush the two and have a sword fight with them. In these trainings, he would usually put Rashid out of the game first, while Ardeth was harder to get because of his quickness. Ardeth quickly proved to be one of the most talented and impressive Medjai-in-trainings Jirrja had ever seen.

Ardeth and Rashid, in addition to their training and regular childhood education, were sent to a special school in Cairo, where they were learn even more, from Ancient Egypt to how to speak English, a language completely and totally opposite of their own native Arabic. But they caught on quickly and enjoyed discovering new words that had the same meaning as some of their own. They were also schooled on certain days by Jahir, the tribe elder, on the history of the Medjai.

Later, during an exercise, Jirrja swung his sword. Ardeth ducked and rolled under his arm, coming up beside him in a crouch and leveling the sword at the back of his waist. Jirrja looked down. "Excellent," he said. "But even more excellent is your ability to stop such a heavy sword before it slices through me."

Ardeth laughed and got to his feet.

1912

Ardeth was eighteen when he completed his training, an age at which most Medjai warriors had finished. He and Rashid were sitting cross-legged in Jirrja's tent. Muhallah and the other tribe commanders were present as well. To mark their completion, both had the symbol of the Medjai tattooed on each cheek, with the markings of their family on their foreheads. Afterwards, Muhallah handed them each a ceremonial robe. "Don these," he said, "and the ceremony will be complete."

It was evening when Muhallah lead Ardeth and Rashid from the tent. The villagers had gathered around a large bonfire. Ardeth felt proud as he walked behind his father toward the front of the crowd and turned before the crackling flames. Muhallah stood before them and raised his arms. "I give you Ardeth Bay and Rashid Keerim. The newest Medjai warriors of the first tribe."

Simultaneously, they pushed the hoods back from their faces as the crowd cheered. Dajla was almost crying, feeling so proud at seeing her son having achieved the highest honor. Muhallah turned to them. "I congratulate you on your completion of the Medjai training."

They nodded. "Thank you," they said.

The celebration continued long into the night with food, games, music, and dancing. The women and children were dancing, while the men occupied themselves with conversation. Ardeth was sitting with Rashid beside a small campfire. "This is the greatest day in my life," Ardeth said. "And I'm glad my greatest friend is here to share it with me."

"As am I," Rashid said. He put a hand on Ardeth's shoulder. "You are a great friend, Ardeth. I would go into battle with you any day."

Ardeth smiled. "Thank you."

"Ardeth." He looked up to see Jirrja approaching. "Your father wishes to see you right away. He has something important he wants to tell you."

Ardeth turned to Rashid. "I'll be right back." He stood and crossed the village to his father's tent, receiving smiles and clasps on the shoulder as he went.

He entered Muhallah's tent, expecting a personal congratulations. A small fire had been lit, and Muhallah was sitting quietly. "Sit, my son. And listen."

Ardeth sat down close to the fire, feeling a bit cold from the night breeze he had just walked through.

"I'm going to tell you something. Something all Medjai warriors are told the night of their instatement. Right now, Rashid's father is doing the same with him."

"What is it, father?"

"Nearly three thousand years ago, a terrible incident occurred. There was a man named Imhotep, the high priest to Pharaoh Seti the First. Imhotep had an affair with the pharaoh's wife, Anck-su-namun, and they killed Seti when he discovered the illicit acts. Anck-su-namun took her own life, and Imhotep and his priests, as punishment, were mummified alive. Imhotep was inflicted with the curse of Homdai, the worst of all ancient blasphemies. He was buried alive deep within the sands of Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead. And for all that time, the Medjai, the descendants of the pharaoh's sacred bodyguards, have kept watch, to prevent the Creature's remains from being unearthed and revived."

Ardeth sat in silence. He realized his mouth was gaping and promptly closed it.

"It is now that you learn of your duties. One day, I will no longer be able to command the first tribe of the Medjai. When that time comes, you will take my place, for you are my oldest son. And as part of your duties, you must keep watch over Hamunaptra and make sure the Creature's remains are never disturbed. For if they are, and if the Creature is brought back to life, the consequences would be unimaginable."

Ardeth swallowed in the darkness. "I will do as you say, father. I will take your place when the time comes, and I will keep watch over Hamunaptra. If it is my destiny, I will fulfill it."

CHAPTER 2

1914

Ardeth moved about on feet that refused to stand still, taking part in a mock sword fight with his brother Muhammad. Rashid was sitting on a rock nearby. Muhammad had eventually reached the age to begin training, and he, too, had demonstrated the same impressive talents that Ardeth had, and had quickly become a Medjai warrior. "You've gotten fast," Ardeth said, moving around and clashing swords.

Muhammad stopped for a moment. "Do you think I could ever be as fast you?"

"You mean if you practiced a lot?"

"Yes."

Ardeth shook his head. "No."

Rashid laughed. Muhammad, pretending to be angry with his brother's response, swung his sword. Ardeth smiled, clearing enjoying himself, and began moving. "You'll make a fine Medjai, Muhammad," he said, blocking swing after swing. "Of that, I'm sure. But not as fine of one as myself." He swung the sword at his brother.

Muhammad ducked and rolled underneath, coming up in a crouch and holding the edge of his sword against Ardeth's belly. He looked up at his older brother.

"Then again, maybe you will." Ardeth laughed and helped Muhammad to his feet.

"Muhallah! Muhallah!"

They turned to see a Medjai riding into the village on his horse. Ardeth saw his father emerge from his tent. "What's wrong?"

The warrior climbed off his horse and spoke quietly to Muhallah. They were too far away to hear. "I spotted the Mazar," the scout said. "Moving toward Hamunaptra."

"How many?"

"At least four dozen or so. About half of one of our tribes."

Muhallah nodded and turned. "Medjai!"

The Medjai warriors began appearing from their tents. Muhallah addressed them. "I have just received word that the Creature's resting place is soon to be disturbed. We must waste no time in getting there first. It's only a small number, so half of you prepare to leave immediately."

Alarmed, Ardeth rushed to his father's side. "What's happening, father?"

"They're preparing to wake the Creature," he said, hauling himself into his saddle.

Ardeth knew who 'they' were. He had heard the story when he was a little boy. Years ago, before he was born, there had been thirteen tribes of the Medjai. The leader of the tribe, a man named Lock-Nah, had always seemed to possess a bitter hatred toward the other commanders, and for some unknown reason, the hatred exploded two years before Ardeth was born.

Tribe Thirteen split in half: half followed Lock-Nah into the desert, and the other half was integrated into the remaining twelve tribes. Lock-Nah and his followers became known as the Mazar, and Lock-Nah, upon leaving, vowed vengeance upon the Medjai.

The Medjai had been doing their best to keep up on the current state of the Mazar, and they knew that it had been growing steadily in recent years, accumulating men and supplies. They had also discovered that the Mazar had joined forces with a group of warriors who were the descendants of Imhotep's followers. The Medjai knew one day there would be an attempt to revive the Creature, and the time had obviously now come.

"Let me come with you," Ardeth said, and ran for his horse.

"No. You must stay."

Ardeth turned with the reigns in his hand. "But I want to fight with you."

"No, Ardeth. The Mazar are powerful now, and we many not return. If that happens, you will become a Medjai leader. You will lead my men." He turned to the warriors. "Imshay," he said, and rode off.

Ardeth and Muhammad stood watching side-by-side. They saw Rashid's father say goodbye to him and his mother, then ride off with the others. He could sense his younger brother's nervousness and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "Father will return."

Nightfall came, and Ardeth had difficulty sleeping. He turned side-over-side, unable to sleep because of the thought of his father needing his help. He had wanted to go so badly, but knew he had to honor his father's words. At the other side of the tent, Muhammad was sleeping peacefully. Feeling sweat on his head, Ardeth pushed the sheets back and got to his feet.

He came out of the tent and walked over to the well. The sand was cool under his bare feet. He found the well bucket half full. He cupped some water in his hands and splashed it on his face, then craned his head back and closed his eyes. There was a light breeze rustling his hair, and it made him feel a little more relaxed. A hand fell upon his shoulder, and he whirled about with a start. "Mother."

She smiled. "I'm sorry, Ardeth. I didn't mean to scare you. What are you doing out here so late at night?"

"I was unable to sleep."

"Thinking about your father?"

"Yes."

"You wanted to go with him, didn't you?"

"Why wouldn't he let me? I'm a Medjai now. I should be allowed to fight at my father's side."

"I think your father is just worried about you. He knows that you are the best choice to lead the first tribe if anything should happen to him. He wanted you to stay here so that you would not perish out there if they do."

"But I feel so helpless."

"I know, son. I know. How's Muhammad?"

"He's sleeping like a baby. I don't know how."

She smiled, put a hand to his cheek. "Go lie down, Ardeth. Get some rest. Your father will be alright."

He looked like he couldn't agree with her, but gave in with a nod. "Goodnight, mother," he said, then went back to his tent.

"Goodnight, Ardeth." Deep down inside, Dalja would almost admit that she herself, for some unexplainable reason, couldn't quite agree with what she had said either.

The next day came and went, and there was no word from the tribe. Night found Ardeth sitting before a campfire, tossing small pebbles into the flame. He heard someone approaching, but didn't bother to see who it was until they sat next to him. He looked. "Is everything okay, Ardeth?" Rashid asked.

"No. Everything's not okay." He tossed a pebble. "I feel so helpless. I should be out there with my father. I should of rode in with the others so he wouldn't have seen me."

"Everything will be okay."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me. But I just have this feeling that says everything won't be okay. I don't know what it is. It's just . . . I don't know." He tossed the final pebble and picked up some more from the sand.

"I know."

Ardeth looked at him, the light from the flames dancing off his face. "Do you?"

Rashid nodded. "I have that same feeling, too. Like you, I don't know what it is." He took a few stones from his friend and began tossing them into the fire. "But I feel it as well. And I don't like it."

They heard a bird screech and looked up. The sky was empty of clouds. The stars twinkled in the distance, and the moon shone brightly. They could see a bird sailing through the sky, it's form perfectly visible in the night sky as if briefly passed in front of the moon. Ardeth's face took on a look of worry.

"What is it?"

"It's Horus," he said, dropping the stones as he jumped to his feet and ran.

The falcon swooped down from the sky and landed atop the tent of Jahir, the tribe elder, the former commander whose place had been taken by Muhallah. He came out to see what the noise was as Ardeth ran up. "What's it say? What's it say?"

"Calm down, Ardeth." He lifted the bird from its perch, opened the tiny canister that dangled from one foot, and removed the rolled slip of paper from within.

Ardeth waited tensely as Jahir unrolled the note. By now, others had come hurrying to see what was going on. Jahir's eyes widened. "Oh my God," he said.

"What is it?" Ardeth snatched the note from him and read it himself.

"What's it say, Ardeth?" Rashid asked, appearing beside him.

Ardeth looked up slowly, catching the gaze of his mother, who had come out from her tent with Muhammad. Without saying a word, he let the note drop to the ground as he turned and walked toward the horse pin. Dalja stooped to retrieve the message and read it. "They're being outnumbered," she said quietly to Rashid.

Ardeth mounted his horse. "I'm going now. I'm not waiting for anyone."

Without a verbal response, the remaining Medjai began climbing onto their horses. Rashid and Muhammad did so as well. Ardeth came down the center of the village toward Jahir. They exchanged a silent look. No words were needed. He looked at his mother and it was the same thing. She gave him a proud nod, and he returned the gesture. "Imshay," he said, and lead the warriors through the village and toward the distance dunes.

The sun was rising over the horizon as they came to the top of the dune. Ardeth stared in shock. A full-on battle was in progress among the city ruins. Word of the Mazar's plans had said it was only a small garrison, which is why Muhallah had left with only half the tribe. But from above, Ardeth knew it was more like a full tribe of Mazar warriors, which is why his father had sent word for help.

Ardeth turned to the others. "We all know of the Creature, and the consequences if he is awakened. We cannot allow it. If we die, we die with honor. Allah be with you all."

With that, he drew his saber and raised in it the air, screaming the Medjai battle cry as he lead the warriors down the hill and into battle.

The horses thundered loudly in the sand as they stormed down the side of the dune, racing toward the rubble of stone and statues that had once been the great City of the Dead. Mazar warriors saw the incoming force and yelled for the others. Ardeth rode right into the thick of the fight, swinging down with his sword to kill the first Mazar.

Medjai and Mazar warriors were spread throughout the remains. Some fought on hilltops, others fought around large pillars slumping in the sand. Ardeth rode down around one side, chasing after two Mazars, when another one suddenly appeared to his right, leaping off a large pillar, knocking him off his horse and onto the ground.

He scrambled to his feet and turned as the Mazar came in. Ardeth raised his sword and blocked the other's swing, then smashed his elbow into his face and swung his sword, dropping him to the ground.

All over the ruins, swords were clashing, men were screaming and yelling. Ardeth moved through the warriors, looking and shouting for his father, but couldn't see him anywhere. A Mazar appeared in front of him, striking fast. Ardeth brought up his sword in a defensive position and blocked the other from taking off his head.

He shoved his sword down, pinning the other's to a slab of force-packed dirt, then struck the man's jaw with his fist. The Mazar stumbled back, but returned with sword swinging. Ardeth stepped aside and blocked the swing, continued his downward thrust so that his sword cut across the other's leg. The man dropped his sword and clutched at his leg. With the man doubled over, Ardeth slammed his knee into his face and knocked him over onto his back.

He took off running. "Father!" he shouted. "Father!" He looked everywhere, but couldn't find him.

The battle raged on around him, lasting all day. The Mazar were undeniably skilled swordsmen. There was no question about it. They could certainly hold their own in a battle, as they were now proving.

By evening, the battle was beginning to wear out. The warriors on both sides were tiring, weakened by hunger and exhaustion. An official truce was called, and each side began falling back. Ardeth slumped back in the sand as the last of the Mazars retreated. He had never felt so tired in his life. And all the time, he couldn't help but think that he was unable to find his father. He had no idea where he could be. He was beginning to think he should except the fact that he might be dead. But he didn't want to. He wanted to keep that thought as far from his mind as he could.

"Ardeth!"

He weakly turned his head, thinking it was Rashid or another of the Medjai, but his eyes widened. "Father." He jumped to his feet and hurried toward him. "Father!"

Muhallah stumbled through the sand. He looked exhausted and bruised. Portions of his robes were torn, and blood trickled from a scrape on one side of his face. Ardeth embraced his father. "Thank Allah. Are you alright, father?"

"I'm fine, Ardeth. I'm just tired. I need to sit."

Ardeth looked around. "Here." Taking hold of his father's arm, he lead him over to a spot in the shade. It wasn't much cooler, but it was better than nothing.

"Thank you," he said, sitting.

Ardeth kneeled beside him. "What happened? Was it a trap?"

"It looks like it. We came over the ridge, into the city. It was deserted. We thought we had arrived before them. We were setting up camp when the Mazars appeared. I knew there was more than half a tribe. That's when I sent for reinforcements." Then he looked up at his son and smiled. "I figured you'd come."

Ardeth smiled. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

For the first time in a long time, Ardeth saw his father laugh.

Night had settled on the remains of Hamunaptra. They had all needed rest, and time to assess which of their comrades had been killed in the attack. By Ardeth's count, they had lost close to fifty men. While the others rested, Ardeth had gone to the top of one of the encircling cliffs to be by himself.

He sat with his feet dangling over the edge, staring out at the darkened desert that surrounded them. He had felt so relieved upon seeing his father was still alive, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted off of him. He could finally breath easy. He estimated he had been on the cliff for an hour when a voice behind him said, "The others are ready to leave." He glanced over his shoulder and saw Rashid. "Your father has ordered a dozen or so to stay behind incase the Mazars try again, but he thinks they may wait awhile."

Ardeth got to his feet and turned. "Today was the worst day of my life until I found my father alive," he said.

"Today is the worst day of my life."

Ardeth looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"My father."

Ardeth knew from the tone in his voice. "I'm sorry, Rashid," he said quietly. He walked over and put his hands on his shoulder. "I'm very sorry." He embraced his friend. "Allah will watch over him now. And he can watch over you." He pulled back. "Your father was an outstanding Medjai."

Rashid tried to smile. "Thanks, Ardeth."

He clasped him on the shoulder, then said, "Come. Let's return home. We could all use a full night's rest."

The caravan carved a long slender line through the darkened desert as Muhallah lead the way. Ardeth rode alongside him. "Father. What of the Medjai who didn't survive?"

Muhallah nodded solemnly. "In the morning, after you and the others have rested, you will take them back to collect the fallen and return them to the village."

They rode in silence for a moment before Ardeth said, "I was so worried while you were gone. I couldn't stop thinking that something bad was happening."

"You were right."

"To you, I mean. Something bad happening to you. It was driving me crazy. I could hardly sleep, and when I was awake it was all I could think about. When Jahir received your message and I read it . . . I'd never felt scared in my life. I thought for sure you were . . . "

Muhallah looked at him. "Dead?"

Ardeth just nodded, unable to say it himself.

"I thought so, too. But I'm alright now, son. And that's what matters."

Ardeth remained silent after that as they moved through the night.

In the morning, Ardeth was back at Hamunaptra. He had returned with the entire tribe and several wagons to carry the bodies back. Some of the wagons had already started back toward the village. The last body was placed in the final wagon. "We're ready to leave, Ardeth," Muhammad said.

Ardeth turned. "I'll catch up."

"Are you sure?"

Ardeth simply nodded, and Muhammad took that as his final answer and left. As the wagon pulled away, Ardeth turned back and looked through the city ruins. He could see some of the Medjai his father had ordered to stay behind, positioned atop the high cliffs overlooking the city.

He called the nearest one and said to stay on alert, that others would be there to relieve them soon. He turned for his horse, but stopped. He thought her heard something, a voice, but he wasn't sure. He sounded like a faint noise, carried on the wind. He started for his horse again, but stopped when he heard it again. It was a voice. He swallowed nervously. It sounded like it was saying, "You will die, you will die." It didn't sound like someone was right near him, but more like someone whispering it to him from a distance.

He turned and saw one of the ancient carved statues before him, slumped in the sand, it's surface spotted with cracks and dulled edges from thousands of years of wind. He starred at the statue, as if it's where the voice had come from, but it had since faded away. He heard a rumbling, and his eyes widened. He spun around and looked at the ground.

A cloud of sand hit him, as if something had fallen and thrown up the cloud. He threw his hands up to block his face as the sand hit against him. He turned in place, but another cloud of sand was coming from the other direction, and it him again. He stumbled about as more sand clouds seemed to shoot up from the ground, and he hurried away as the final, largest cloud jumped into the air and fell back again.

He staggered back, hands still raised, and stopped. He lowered his arms slowly, looking on in bewilderment. The clouds of sand had formed into a large face on the ground, with deep eyes and a sunken gaping mouth, and he heard what sounded like a muffled groan as the last of the sand settled. He stared in amazement, and it was then that he new Hamunaptra really was the City of the Dead.

CHAPTER 3

1915

A year had gone by since that first battle at Hamunaptra, and the Mazar had made no further attempts to unbury the Creature. But Muhallah knew the time would eventually come when another attempt would be made, and the Medjai would be there to foil their plans once more.

His actions during that battle had lead Ardeth Bay to be given the position of subcommader for Tribe One. He was lying in his tent one afternoon, resting, when he heard a shout in the distance. He jumped to his feet and hurried outside.

His father was gathered with several Medjai. "What's going on?" Ardeth asked.

"The Mazar are preparing to strike," Muhallah said without turning.

Atop the nearest dune, the Mazar tribe was lined out, with one man already at the bottom, sword raised above his head. "Lock-Nah," Jahir said.

Ardeth squinted through the bright sunlight reflecting off the desert floor. So that's who this Lock-Nah is, he said to himself. Around them, the Medjai were preparing, drawing swords and standing ready. The women and children were making their way through the village toward the rocky hills that lined the backside, accompanied by a small detachment of Medjai to provide protection.

Lock-Nah shouted something, and the Mazars began pouring down the side of the dune. Ardeth rushed back into his tent and drew his sword, returning outside as the Mazar approached. Lock-Nah was pointing his sword through the air toward them, yelling to his soldiers. Muhallah looked back at his men. "Medjai, stand proud."

The Mazar reached the perimeter and stormed into the village, and the attack began. They had a superior position riding atop horses. The Medjai were forced to swing their swords awkwardly as they tried to duck. The Mazar trampled tents as they turned around to attack.

Ardeth had a brief glimpse of his father and Muhammad fighting alongside one another, then his view was cut off. He saw a Mazar charging Jahir from behind and ran screaming, jumping up and wrapping an arm around the man's chest, pulling him from his saddle and slamming him to the ground. Ardeth got to one knee and grabbed the soldier's collar, lifting his head up and smacking him in the jaw, knocking him unconscious. He grabbed his sword from the sand and jumped to his feet.

Muhallah swung his sword at an approaching Mazar, who was swinging his as well. He ducked as he swung, and his blade effortlessly sliced off the hand at the wrist. He heard the Mazar scream in pain as the sword dropped to the sand at his feet, the hand still clenching the handle. The warrior disappeared into the crowd, holding his severed wrist against himself.

Rashid ducked and rolled, coming up behind the Mazar and putting the edge of his sword into his back, then bringing it slicing around in front of him as another came toward him. He turned to his right and caught another Mazar by the wrist, blocking his swing. The Mazar, in turn, grabbed his wrist, and the two were locked together. Rashid, recalling a move he had seen his father do one time during a demonstration, swung his arms down on opposite sides, crossing the Mazar's arms and kicking his foot into his ribs. His grip on his wrist loosened, and Rashid brought his sword down on him.

Ardeth turned and saw a Mazar barring down on him. All he had time to do was throw his sword up in defense. The force knocked him back, and he fell onto a tent that had been flattened. He rolled over and saw his sword lying in the sand, and the Mazar was turning around for another run at him. To his right, he saw the end of a tent pole and reached for it. He pulled it from the tent and turned, swinging it hard and catch the Mazar in the neck, flipping him off the back of the horse. Ardeth used the pole like a sword and slammed it down into the soldier's chest, then dropped it and ran to retrieve his sword.

Muhammad dropped a Mazar and turned as another rode up, leaping off his horse and tackling him to the ground. He felt the sword fall from his hand. The Mazar tried to swing a punch, but Muhammad blocked with both hands and threw a fist into his face, sending him reeling back enough to put his feet against his chest and push. The Mazar was shoved back, crashing into the sand. Muhammad grabbed his sword and stood, charging as the other drew his sword. The two blades clashed, and the Medjai deflected each swing.

Ardeth pinned a sword to the ground and kicked it's owner in the ribs, turning and bringing his sword up, knocking the weapon from another's hand, then slashed it down across his chest. He heard someone charging behind him. With no time to turn, he swung the sword over his shoulder, catching the opposing blade and stopping it from hitting his back, spinning the sword down as he turned and slicing it up.

He tried to see his father, but the crowd was thick. Around him, swords clashed loudly, and frightened horses kicked up sand. He was hit from behind and knocked to the ground, his face buried in the sand. He felt a fist punch him in the ribs and he gritted his teeth. He kicked his right leg up, catching the Mazar on top of him in the groin and causing him to fall over.

Ardeth turned and jumped to his feet, grabbing the Mazar by the head and planting his knee against his chin. He wiped sand from his face and retrieved his sword, then dashed through the crowd.

Muhallah turned to see Lock-Nah leaping from his horse. He dived forward, rolling under the Mazar as he missed his target and landed in a crouch, turning as he sprung to his feet and pulled his sword from its sheath.

"Lock-Nah," Muhallah said.

The other smiled, that cocky smile Muhallah had always hated. "Muhallah. You look well. Too bad it won't last for long." They raised their weapons and lunged screaming. Their swords clashed together, and they stood, staring at one another for an endless moment through their crossed blades.

Moving through the fighting warriors, Ardeth stumbled upon Muhammad. "Have you seen father?" Ardeth shouted.

"No. Are you alright?"

Ardeth nodded and said, "Yes," then moved off.

A Mazar appeared before him and attacked. Ardeth swung his sword in a defensive swing, pinning the other's weapon to the ground and holding it there long enough to kick his right leg out, planting his foot in the stomach of a second attacking Mazar, then spinning the first one's sword from his hand and punching him across the face.

Lock-Nah forced Muhallah back with each strike, but the Medjai blocked them all. The Mazar swung for his feet, but Muhallah leapt up to avoid the shiny blade, returning his feet to the ground and blocking the next swing.

Ardeth was running through the crowd when he stopped. A short distance ahead, he finally spotted his father, locked in a fight with another Mazar. He recognized him as Lock-Nah. A blade swung down in front of him, narrowly avoiding him. Ardeth stepped back and brought his sword up, slicing the Mazar's arm.

With two swift moves, Lock-Nah hooked Muhallah's weapon out of his hands and sent it flying away, then sliced at his leg. Muhallah felt the intense pain of flesh being cut and yelled as he clutched at his leg, falling to the ground. Lock-Nah towered over him.

Ardeth dropped another Mazar and turned right into a punch thrown by another. He stumbled back and caught the attacker's wrist, kicking him in the side, then releasing his grip and slashing downward on him with his sword. He looked to see his father again, and he's eyes widened in alarm.

Lock-Nah had Muhallah pinned to the ground, holding the tip of his sword inches above him. "I knew one day, Muhallah, that you would die. And I always knew I would be there when it happened." Then he raised his sword in both hands and brought it down.

Ardeth Bay had no words to describe the way he felt in that instant. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, and without knowing it, he was screaming, "No!"

He tried to run toward his father, but the crowd was thick, and he couldn't get through. Lock-Nah turned with a smile on his face, dragging his sword against his inside robe to clean the blood from it, and went to his horse.

A Mazar tried to attack, but Ardeth was too full of rage to mess around. He struck back instead of blocking, killing the Mazar instantly with a left-to-right slice of the sword, then brought the blade crashing down onto another that was racing toward him. He shoved his way through the crowd, pushing aside Mazar and Medjai alike, and dropped to his knees besides his father.

"Father," he gasped. "Father."

Muhallah looked at him weakly. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Looking around, Ardeth hooked his hands under his shoulders and dragged him over between two large rock outcrops. "Father."

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "You . . . are a good son, Ardeth. And you will . . . make a . . . great Medjai."

"Please, father. Don't die. Father."

"May Allah . . . smile upon you. Always." With that he drew in a final breath, but it never came out. The great warrior was gone.

Ardeth could never remember crying before, but he did then, putting his face against his father's shoulder and crying hard.

Around the village, the attack was beginning the dissipate. The Mazar were falling back on Lock-Nah's orders. The Medjai, beginning to weakening, didn't bother putting up much of an effort to stop them. They more or less let them flee, and within moments, the village was cloaked in an eerie silence. The battle was over.

The bodies of many Medjai and Mazar warriors lie scattered throughout the village. From the look of things, the Medjai tribe had been badly damaged, with far more victims on the ground than the Mazar. "Ardeth!" Rashid called, moving among the bodies. He saw the faces of many he knew, but hoped he wouldn't find Ardeth's among them. "Ardeth! Ardeth!" He saw someone huddled between two outcroppings and approached it. "Ardeth?"

When Ardeth looked up, tears were streaming down his face. Rashid stopped as he saw what had happened. Ardeth turned back to his father, put a hand to his head. "May Allah watch over you now, father," he said behind the tears.

He stood slowly and turned. The women and children were returning to the village. He saw his mother racing toward him and caught her by the arms, stopping her from going any further. The blank look on his face was enough to convey what had happened, and she began crying. He embraced her and held her tightly.

Other wives were crying throughout the village as they discovered their husbands among the dead, while others cried tears of joy as they embraced their husbands who had survived. Dalja pulled away and lightly brushed past Ardeth to see her husband. She knelt beside him, taking his hands in her's and holding them against her face. Ardeth watched quietly.

Rashid put a hand on his shoulder and said quietly, "Ardeth, I need to tell you something."

He turned. "What?"

"Muhammad."

Ardeth looked at him. "What is it?"

"I saw that man, the one leading the Mazars. He grabbed your brother as he fled and took him with them."

Ardeth's gaze drifted beyond his friend and fell to the ground behind him, a dozen different emotions racing through him. He turned back and looked at his mother as she cried for her husband, wondering how he would tell her about Muhammad.

CHAPTER 4

In the aftermath of the attack, the count was made of those who had died. Thirty-two Mazars and close to fifty Medjai. Rashid stood. "Jahir! Jahir!"

Jahir came running. "What is it?"

Rashid pointed down. "This Mazar is still alive."

Jahir knelt and rolled the man over and saw that he was. Jahir stood and turned to another Medjai. "Take him and put him somewhere safe. Have a doctor look after him. He may prove be useful."

"Yes, sir."

Through the village, the tents had started being erected, though many of the ones that had been trampled now stood awkwardly as a result of broken poles barely holding together or some poles having to be temporarily replaced with shorter poles.

There hadn't been much conversation following the attack. Everyone was still in a state of shock, not to mention exhaustion. Those who lost someone had taken them back to their tents to prepare them for the burial ceremony.

Evening found Ardeth Bay in an old childhood retreat, a place he had not visited since before his Medjai training began. He was sitting atop the cliff, one leg dangling over the side, the village not that far below and to the side of him. He was starring out at the horizon as the last rays of sunlight slowly disappeared, and the stars began to shine.

He heard footsteps behind him, but didn't turn, not even when Rashid sat down beside him. For a long time, there was just silence. Ardeth didn't feel like talking, and he knew Rashid probably didn't know if he should say anything or not. Rashid was trying to think of what to say. Perhaps something to help relieve the pain of seeing his father murdered. But he realized that there nothing he or anyone else could say that would do that, so he instead simply said, "Today was a bad day for the Medjai. A day that will long be remembered."

Ardeth didn't respond, didn't even acknowledge that he had heard. Rashid was wondering if he should just leave, and was just about to do so when Ardeth said, "Maybe. But another day will remembered even longer. The day we exact revenge."

Rashid nodded quietly in the darkness. "Ardeth, I know what you experienced today was painful, and I know there's nothing I can say to help make it better. But if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you."

Ardeth looked at him. "You're my good friend, Rashid," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But I would just like to be alone right now."

"Of course." He stood and walked away.

Ardeth looked back over his shoulder. "Tell my mother I will be back in a little while."

"I will."

As Rashid left, Ardeth heard a screech, and then Horus landed on the ledge beside him. He stroked the falcon's soft coat, then watched as it took to the sky again. Ardeth watched until he disappeared into the night.

An hour or so later, Ardeth wandered back into the village. Around him, there was still signs of the attack. Some tents, unable to be put back up, remained on the ground for now. From several tents he passed he could hear the cries of widowed wives, grieving over the loss of their husbands or sons. Somewhere he heard a scream. It was coming from the doctor's tent.

When Ardeth arrived, a handful of Medjai were gathered outside. He could hear someone inside screaming in pain. "What's going on?"

One of them gestured toward the tent. "One of the Mazar warriors was found alive. The doctor is treating him."

Jahir emerged from the tent with the doctor. "Did he say anything?" Ardeth asked.

"He is badly wounded and is in no condition to speak," Jahir replied. "He is in much pain."

"You didn't ask where they took my brother?"

The doctor put his hand on Ardeth's arm. "He is not in any condition to speak."

"I will make him."

"No, Ardeth. Do not go in there."

But Ardeth jerked his arm away and headed for the tent.

"Ardeth. Ardeth."

He ignored Jahir and stepped into the tent. The light was low, and he saw the warrior lying under a blanket. His face was beaded with sweet, and he was clutching his wounded arm. Sensing someone's presence, he opened his eyes and gasped as he saw Ardeth standing over him. "Who, who are you?"

"The son of the man your Lock-Nah murdered today. Where is he?"

He hesitated too long. Ardeth locked a hand around the man's throat. "Where is he?" he asked, louder.

"I, I don't know.

Ardeth squeezed. "Tell me."

The man began choking. "I don't know."

"Where is Lock-Nah? Tell me!" When he wouldn't answer, Ardeth grabbed his wounded arm, and the warrior howled in pain. "Tell me! Where is Lock-Nah?"

"Okay, okay," he said between coughs.

Ardeth released his grip on the man's arm, but kept his hand around his neck. "Where did he take my brother?"

"Our camp . . . is to the East. Along the coast. In the . . . mountains."

"How do I get there?"

When he hesitated too long, Ardeth returned his hand to the man's arm but didn't squeeze. The threat was enough to make him say, "Travel East toward the Nile. Travel south . . . until you reach Lake Nasser. From there . . . travel toward the sea. You'll see signs of the Mazar as you near the mountains."

Ardeth looked at him for a long moment, as if suspecting a lie, then turned and walked out of the tent. "Ardeth?" Jahir said as he emerged, but the young Medjai ignored him as he passed. "What are you doing?"

Ardeth found his horse and mounted the saddle. "I'm going after Muhammad."

"No, you're not. You will wait until the tribe has recovered."

"We do not have the time. I am going now. My father is dead. I'm now in command of the tribe. I order all surviving Medjai to stay here."

Rashid and Dalja had come toward him. "Ardeth," she said, putting a hand on his leg. "Listen to Jahir."

He put his hand on her's. "I understand your concern, but we simply cannot wait. I must save Muhammad now, before it is too late." With that he gave his horse a kick and rode off.

Dalja looked at Rashid, and he read the expression on her face. He hurried to his horse and pulled himself up into the saddle, riding off after Ardeth. Dalja watched them go.

Ardeth didn't know he was being followed until he reached the rise of the first dune, when Rashid appeared alongside him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you."

"No. I ordered all Medjai to stay."

"I'm not letting you go off like this by yourself."

Ardeth looked away, frustrated.

"I lost someone to the Mazar, too."

"So did everyone else."

"Ardeth, I'm coming with you. And you cannot make me turn back. So except it."

Ardeth looked at him for a moment, as if considering, then said, "Very well. You may come. If you can keep up."

He nudged his horse and hurried down the side of the dune. Rashid smiled and did the same, racing after his friend. For a brief moment, each felt like they were back in their childhood as they raced into the desert.

They rode through the night. By morning they had reached a small port on the West side of the Nile. Ardeth asked around and found a skiff that was traveling south to Sudan. It had just dropped off nearly the last of it's load, and so there was room aboard for them and the horses. Since he was already going south, the captain charged nothing for them to ride along. In an hour, the horses stored in a pin at the rear of the skiff, they were underway.

Ardeth and Rashid found a spot at the bow of the skiff to sit while they traveled the course of the winding Nile. Neither had slept in a day, so they had no trouble falling asleep. Ardeth saw images of the previous day's attack. The Mazar racing toward the village. The Medjai fighting back. Horses reeling up on their hind legs. Clouds of sand lifting into the air as bodies fell to the ground. The sound of sword clashes filled his ears, the smell of blood filled his nose.

There was a flash, and he found himself standing among the dead as the carnage raged on around him. Ahead, he saw Lock-Nah killing his father. "No!" The scream sounded distant, muffled.

Then his father was sitting up, reaching for him. "Ardeth . . . " He called. "Help me."

Ardeth ran. Or tried to. His legs pumped, his feet smashed the sand, but his body refused to move. He couldn't tear free of the invisible force holding him in place.

"Ardeth," his father's voice called. "Ardeth. Ardeth."

He woke with a start, sitting up quickly and looking around. "Ardeth." He turned to see Rashid kneeling beside him. "Are you okay?"

Ardeth looked around, as if trying to gather his surroundings. "I'm fine. Just a dream."

Rashid raised a plate of food. "Here. The captain made us some food."

Ardeth seemed to hesitate, then took the plate and crossed his legs, beginning to eat. He'd forgotten how hungry he was. Darkness had closed in while he was asleep, and there was a certain stillness to the air as he ate. The skiff guided smoothly through the water.

"What did you dream?" Rashid asked.

"About yesterday. The horror, the sadness, the fear, the anger. Every emotion that ran through me yesterday."

"I know I can't say anything to make it better, but it will get better. Yesterday was one year since my father died in that battle at Hamunaptra. I cried for days, but as the weeks and months went by, I grew stronger. I had washed the tears of pain and sorrow from myself, and I grew by keeping the memory of my father alive. I think of the good things he did in his life. The sense of respect and dignity he bestowed in me. And that helps me continue to live without grieving every day."

Ardeth was listening silently.

"So it will get better. You may not think so right now, with the way you understandably feel, but you will see it's true. It will get better, Ardeth. I promise you."

Ardeth smiled. "Thank you," he said, and they locked hands in a friendly gesture of compassion.

The skiff continued on as morning came. Ardeth stood at the bow as the first rays of light began to appear. This time of the day was his favorite moment, a time that always helped him feel relaxed. Rashid came forward and said, "The captain says we'll reach Lake Nasser by midnight."

Ardeth replied with a silent nod. The skiff forged ahead, following the curving course of the Nile. Ardeth spent much of the day by himself, at the bow of the boat, thinking of all the events that had lead up to this moment. He reflected upon the emotions felt when he saw his father murdered, and upon hearing that his brother had been taken.

Day slowly turned into night. The sky was clear with only a few clouds in the distance. The moon illuminated the river, it's reflection shimmering in the gentle ripples as the boat made it's way south.

In several hours, Ardeth and Rashid were leading the horses from the rear of the boat and back onto the shore. Ardeth thanked the boat captain for his generosity, and they were soon on their way, leaving the great river behind and moving East through the night.

CHAPTER 5

Early in the morning, before the sun came up, the two Medjai stopped for a moment to rest before continuing on. Though neither knew what the day's events would contain, they knew it would require their strength and alertness, so they had decided to rest for a short time. As the very first rays of faint sunlight began to appear, Rashid found Ardeth standing nearby, looking out East toward the mountains in the distance.

Ardeth heard his friend come up behind him and said with turning, "He's out there somewhere. All alone, helpless, scared."

"We will find him, Ardeth. I promise you."

Ardeth turned and looked at his friend silently. The look on his face said he didn't believe him, but he said, "I know. Come. We must continue."

Climbing atop their horses, they set off for the distant mountains. They journeyed on as daybreak came, pulling hoods over their heads to shade themselves from the heat. By afternoon, they began to reach the mountains they had seen in the distance for so long. As they came over the final rise, they saw the ground began to turn rocky, and a worn path lead toward the mountains.

As they approached, they saw a series of poles lining either side, each topped with a severed head. The two Medjai traded glances as they started down the path. The horses moved slowly as Ardeth scanned the mountainsides. He was looking for sign of guards, but saw none. He would have preferred to take to such terrain on foot, giving him the ability to move about quicker and quieter, but he would have to find a safe place to put the horses before he could do that.

The path began to slope down, descending into the sunken mountains. They were beginning to move out of the heat, though it was still warm. Before long they had found a small box canyon off to one side of the trail. "There," Ardeth said quietly, pointing. They guided the horses into the canyon and dismounted, tying the reigns to the rocky outcrops.

On foot, they were able to forgo the path and take to the rocky terrain, moving stealthily between boulders and through small crevices. Ardeth preferred this method, allowing him to make a quieter entrance and stay hidden among the larger objects. Crawling to the edge of the rise, they peered down into the next sunken range.

Below was the Mazar camp. The bottoms of the mountains were spotted with cave entrances. The Mazar camp was most-likely spread through the base of the mountains. Outside, there were only a few tents. Ardeth assumed them to be a guard post. A few Mazars were moving around on foot, and they appeared to be following certain paths. Definitely guards. They pushed back from the edge. "We have to get past the guards," Ardeth said.

"How do we know where to look? Muhammad could be in any one of those caves."

"They probably all connect somewhere inside. Whether they do or not, we'll just have to search until we find him."

Two of the Mazar guards had stopped to talk with one another. Suddenly, each found a hand cover his mouth and pull them back, and they were knocked unconscious. Moments later, Ardeth and Rashid stepped out, having donned the Mazar's red-and-black outfits. "This is sickening," Rashid said. "It disgusts me to stand here in this outfit." He tried to adjust the piece of cloth that carried over, concealing all of his face except for his eyes.

Ardeth glanced around the rock toward the other guards. "I know. But it's only temporary. Come."

The coast clear, they made their way to the nearest cave entrance and ducked inside. Torches lined either side of the wall, two every fifteen feet. They walked for several yards before coming to a T-junction. To their left, they could see light beyond another entrance. They turned and headed right. They passed an occasional Mazar, none of whom seemed suspicious of them. Ardeth had been worried about wearing the face covers inside, not knowing if they did it themselves, but was able to relax when all but one of the men they passed in the tunnel were wearing their's as well.

They could hear voices up ahead and soon came into a large open cavern full of Mazars. Some were resting on the floor, others were gathered around playing games, while still others were sharing drinks. It was an odd environment for the two friends. Whereas the Medjai camps had always mostly been a place of calm and reserve--with games and other activities saved for special occasions--the Mazar camp seemed to thrive on constant liveliness.

Knowing it was best to not just stand there, they started walking. "What now?" Rashid asked.

Ardeth sensed the nervousness in his friend's voice and said, "We start looking."

A Mazar, obviously drunk, stood up from a table and seemed to lunge toward them, throwing a hand onto Ardeth's shoulder and rambling incoherently. Trying to avoid making a scene, Ardeth managed to remove the drunk's hand and brush past him. The drunk Mazar watched the two go, then made a dismissive wave at their backs and went off to bother someone else.

"That was close," Rashid said.

They entered the next tunnel and quickened their pace, but not enough to arouse questions about why they were in such a hurry. They turned left at another T-junction, seeing the right tunnel was congested with Mazars talking and laughing, then made a right when they saw two Mazars approaching from ahead. Another left took them to a tunnel that opened to another cavern below them.

Rashid put a hand to Ardeth's armed and pointed. "Look."

Ardeth looked down to the left and saw Muhammad, sitting in a make-shift prison cell, curled up on a blanket. Ardeth fought hard to suppress all the emotions and instinct that told him to jump down and free his bother, but he saw that there were two guards on duty. He leaned over to Rashid and quickly whispered his plans, then they descended the rock steps.

The first guard turned upon hearing them, but said nothing. Rashid stopped beside him. Ardeth walked on, toward his brother's cell. He passed the second guard without word, and that caused the guard to take a step forward and ask something, putting a hand on Ardeth's shoulder.

Ardeth spun around, swinging his fist into the guard's face. The first guard was almost able to act, but Rashid had grabbed him by the arm and swung him around into the rocky cavern wall. Startled by the noise, Muhammad rolled over and sat up, watching as one Mazar struck another. Ardeth drove the guard back to the wall and dropped him with a final punch. He turned to Rashid. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Outside, one of the Mazar guards on patrol was passing between two outcrops when he noticed something protruding from the sand. He poked at it with his foot and thought it felt heavy. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and dropped to one knee, began digging back the sand with his hand. When he uncovered the arm, he jumped to his feet and yelled for the others.

Ardeth grabbed the key ring from its perch and hurried toward the cell. He quickly unlocked the gate and swung it open, stepping inside. Ardeth reached up and dropped the face cover, and saw his brother's eyes widen. "Ardeth."

He smiled. "Brother."

"Ardeth." Muhammad jumped to his feet and rushed forward to embrace his brother. Ardeth noticed his brother's slight limp. "I'm so glad to see you."

"As am I." He pulled back. "We must hurry. We have to get out of here."

Muhammad put an arm around Ardeth as he was helped out of the cell. Rashid lowered his face cover. "Rashid," Muhammad said. "Good to see you."

"Wish it was under better circumstances."

The three of them began up the stairs. Rashid reached the top first and looked down the tunnel . . . and did a double-take. A host of Mazar were coming. "Ardeth. Trouble."

Ardeth looked up, still ascending. "What is it?"

"Mazars. And Lock-Nah is leading them."

Ardeth seemed to freeze, not knowing what to do.

"Go," Rashid said.

"What?"

He pointed to another cave entrance down near the cells. "Go. I'll distract them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, go!"

Rashid followed them down the steps. Ardeth and Muhammad rushed into the tunnel. Rashid stood outside the entrance of the next tunnel and waited. When the Mazars appeared at the top of the stairs, he made sure they saw him before he ducked into the tunnel. The Mazar raced down the stairs and into the tunnel, unaware of the other two Medjai: they had only seen one, and were following him down the tunnel they had seen him go into.

Lock-Nah ran toward the tunnel, but stopped just outside of it. He turned and looked at the second tunnel with a questioning eye, then raced inside.

The tunnel opened into another cavern, this one more cave-like, with stalactites and stalagmites. Their ledge was a good distance above the ground, and there were several ledges around the open cavern.

"Ardeth Bay!" a voice boomed out of the tunnel.

Ardeth turned, and though he didn't see anyone yet, he knew who it was. Lock-Nah emerged from the tunnel moments later and stood on the ledge, sword in hand, looking about.

"Ardeth," he said. "I know it's you. I knew you'd come. You have your father's determination. But you also lack what he lacked . . . a soul."

Ardeth appeared flying out of the shadows beside the tunnel entrance, tackling Lock-Nah to the ground. He drew his sword from his robes as the Mazar turned. "Ardeth Bay," he said.

"Lock-Nah."

"Here to avenge your father's death, no doubt."

"And to wipe an evil soul from the Earth."

The blades clashed, echoing loudly in the cavern. Hooking each other's weapon, each spun the other's from his hands, and the swords disappeared over the edge. Ardeth seemed at a lost, but Lock-Nah simply smiled and lunged, catching Ardeth around the waist and slamming him back against the wall. Ardeth gritted his teeth in pain. He clenched his fists together and slammed them down onto Lock-Nah's back, forcing him to the ground, then kicked his knee into him. Lock-Nah fell onto his back and kicked his legs over his head, coming back to his feet and standing in one swift motion.

Before he was back on his feet, Ardeth was charging with a yell. He swung. Lock-Nah ducked and drove a left into Ardeth's side. Ardeth swung back with his right fist, catching Lock-Nah in the jaw. He turned and threw a left, forcing the Mazar to one knee. He swung a right, but Lock-Nah's hand shot up and grabbed his fist, his foot sweeping the Medjai's legs out from under him.

Muhammad watched from the shadows. Ardeth, knowing Muhammad had been injured in some way since his abduction, had told him to stay there and not come out. He was tempted to ignore his older brother's orders, but the Medjai in him was telling him to obey them.

Both hands wrapped around Ardeth's throat, Lock-Nah held him up against the wall. He laughed as the Medjai struggled to get lose, hitting the strong arms with his fists to no avail. His feet dangling above the ground, Ardeth jabbed his knee into Lock-Nah's side.

The Mazar grunted in pain, and his grip loosened. Ardeth wiggled out and dropped to the ground, leaning back against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. Then he charged swinging. Lock-Nah ducked as the swing went over and came up just as quick, catching Ardeth by the waist and flipping him over his head. Ardeth landed hard on his back and grimaced in pain.

Muhammad had had enough. Despite the limp, he emerged from the shadows and ran at Lock-Nah, his back to him, and slammed into him, throwing him forward. Lock-Nah stumbled into Ardeth as the Medjai was getting to his feet. Ardeth fell to the ground again, landing on his palms. He felt the ledge start to give way beneath him and rolled forward.

A large piece of the ledge fell away, separating Ardeth from Lock-Nah and his brother, whom he just now saw had come out from hiding. "Muhammad!" he shouted.

Lock-Nah turned to face the young Medjai, who quickly felt intimidated and began backing up.

"Lock-Nah!" Ardeth yelled. "Touch him and I'll kill you! I swear!"

Muhammad tried to fight back. Lock-Nah grabbed the young man's fist almost effortlessly and held it down. He spun him around and held him against his chest with an arm around his waist. He turned to Ardeth, holding his brother tightly. Muhammad was unable to speak, but his eyes were conveying a plea for help.

"Muhammad!" Ardeth's eyes widened as Lock-Nah's hand came out from his robes, clutching a knife with a large curved blade. "No!"

Without a moment of hesitation, Lock-Nah dragged the knife across the young man's throat. Ardeth could only stare in horror as his brother died before him. Lock-Nah released his grip, and Muhammad's body fell lifelessly to the ledge. Lock-Nah looked back with a wicked smile, twisting the bloodied knife in his hand.

In shock at seeing his brother's fallen body, Ardeth stared at Lock-Nah in anger and frustration. He backed up to the end of the ledge, then ran screaming, leaping over the gap toward Lock-Nah. The two collided and fell back to the ground. On top, Ardeth grabbed Lock-Nah by the collar and lifted his head, driving his fist into the Mazar's jaw. Lock-Nah countered by rising his right leg and hooking it around in front of Ardeth's neck, flipping him off.

Ardeth landed on his back and rolled, seeing he was dangerously close to the edge. He was on his hands and knees when Lock-Nah delivered a kick to his stomach, pushing him further to the edge. Ardeth could feel himself sliding over and clawed desperately at the gravely ledge. His feet swung over the edge and he started to fall, but he managed to grab onto the very edge, struggling to hold himself up.

Lock-Nah towered over him with a grin. "Your determination has been most impressive. But now I shall truly enjoy killing you."

Ardeth, taking the risk of falling, released his right hand and swung up, catching Lock-Nah in the chin and throwing him back. Ardeth couldn't keep his grip any longer, and he fell. Lock-Nah got to his feet and hurried to the edge, looking down into the darkness. The Medjai was nowhere to be seen. He smiled, wiping the blood from his mouth. "All to easy," he said, and turned back up the tunnel.

Ardeth crouched with his back up against the wall. There had been another, smaller ledge less than a few feet below, and he knew that, given his current predicament, making the Mazar believe he was dead was his best way of getting back in control of the fight. Off to the side, he was surprised to see his sword on another small outcrop. He got as close to the edge as he could and reached across for it. He could just barely touch the tip of the blade. Quickly, he hit the blade and flipped the sword through the air, catching it by the handle and pushing himself back as the end of the ledge broke free.

He sat back against the wall to catch his breath, then stood. He set the sword up on the ledge and climbed up. He rushed to his brother's side and knelt, but there was nothing he could do. He put a hand on Muhammad's forehead and shed a tear, then grabbed his sword and raced up the tunnel.

Lock-Nah was coming back out into the prison cell area when Ardeth appeared, jumping with a yell and crashing into the Mazar. The two fell forward toward the wall. But inside of hitting the rocky surface, they instead seemed to fall through it, and Ardeth found himself sliding down a chute on his back. Lock-Nah was below him, tumbling side-over-side. He realized they must have tumbled through a hidden door of some kind. He saw a spot of light racing up to meet them, and soon they rolled outside.

Ardeth was back on his feet, sword raised as Lock-Nah turned, drawing another sword from his robes. "Yes," Lock-Nah said. "Your determination is most impressive."

They charged yelling, and the swords clashed. Lock-Nah pinned Ardeth's sword to the ground and swung the back of his right fist, hitting the Medjai in the jaw and throwing him back against the cliffside. With a laugh, Lock-Nah turned and ran.

Ardeth went after him. The rocky terrain was broken up by a series of chasms, the bottoms of which were far below and unseen. They leapt across the gaps, moving from top to top, until they ended up on the last one. A river was far below. Lock-Nah turned to face the Medjai. "It has been an enjoyable fight," he said. "But now it must end."

Ardeth raised his sword. "And I will enjoy ending it for you."

Lock-Nah charged with a swing. Ardeth lowered his sword and brought it up quickly, knocking Lock-Nah's from his hands. When it came back down, he sliced it across his right arm. The Mazar clutched his wound, ducking to avoid the next swing. Ardeth swung again. Lock-Nah raised his left arm, blocking the knife with the metal wrist guard he wore. He grabbed Ardeth's wrist and turned it, forcing the knife from his grip.

Lock-Nah punched him with a right, despite the pain racing through his arm, dropping Ardeth to one knee. Ardeth kicked his leg out, sweeping Lock-Nah's feet out from under him. The Mazar hit and landed on a slope, and slide over the edge, but managed to hold on. Ardeth struggled to sit up, but Lock-Nah grabbed his ankle, threatening to pull him over as well.

Ardeth sat up, clutching at the rocky ground to keep from going over. "I . . . " He raised his foot and kicked Lock-Nah in the face. " . . . have had enough . . . " Another kick. " . . . of you." The third and final kick caused Lock-Nah's to release his grip as he fell screaming to the ground below.

Ardeth dropped back to the ground, breathing deeply, feeling very much exhausted. He didn't know how long he'd been resting there until he sensed someone's presence. He got to his feet and turned, staring. At least two dozen Mazar warriors were less than fifty feet away, swords drawn, eyes piercing him.

He thought for sure this was the end, and he regretted not telling his mother that he loved her before leaving. But then the Mazars turned. Ardeth couldn't see through them. He climbed a boulder nearby and looked. Coming across the ground was the entire first tribe of Medjai, weapons raised. Ardeth smiled. The Mazars lowered their swords to the ground and began to break up. No one was in the mood for another fight.

Ardeth scrambled down off the rock as Rashid hurried toward him. "Ardeth! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. How did the tribe know?"

Rashid smiled. "They got that Mazar who was wounded to talk again. Your mother sent them to follow behind us." He glanced around. "Where's Muhammad?"

Ardeth turned quiet. "He didn't make it."

"What?"

"Lock-Nah, he . . . he killed him."

Rashid fell quiet. "I'm sorry, Ardeth."

"Thank you."

"Lock-Nah?"

Ardeth turned and gestured toward the edge, but said nothing.

"Dead?"

"I do not believe so. I have a feeling that, one day, we will meet again."

EPILOGUE

The villagers were cheering as Ardeth lead the Medjai tribe back into Al-Kahir. The tribe commanders were gathered as well, and he saw his mother standing beside Jahir. He climbed down from his horse and embraced his mother. "Is Muhammad alright?" she asked.

Quietly, he said, "He did not make it, mother."

He held her as she cried, and he did the same.

Later, the villagers and Medjai were gathered for the ceremony. The tribe commanders were standing upon a raised platform. Jahir stood with a talisman in one hand. "Today we honor a great warrior. He has proven himself in combat, and has proven himself as a Medjai. Ardeth Bay."

Ardeth stepped forward and kneeled as Jahir placed the talisman over his head. He rose to face the commander. "I congratulate you, Ardeth Bay, on assuming command of the first tribe of the Medjai. Your father would be proud."

"Thank you."

Everyone cheered, villagers and Medjai alike. Dalja was crying, both from excitement and the thought of knowing her husband wasn't there to see the special occasion. But she felt, in a way, that he was still seeing it, from above. Ardeth held the talisman in his hands and looked at it, the symbol of the Medjai and their honor. Then he lowered it and turned, standing before his people and those he would go into battle with, those he would fight alongside, and those he would bring honor to.