Hero's Redemption
"Sequel to When Hero's Fail"
Disclaimer: The characters of Rick and Evy O'Connell and Ardeth Bay belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. All other characters belong to the author.
Originally I wasn't planning on doing a sequel but I was struck by inspiration and this just seemed right. I hope you enjoy it. Again it takes place a little after the first one And thank you all for reading this, it's greatly appreciated.
~*~ Chapter 1 ~* ~
The young Medjai warrior was dumped onto the hard sand, with his hands tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth. Although his heart was racing with fear, the youth did his best not to show any emotion to his enemies, his face a mask of stoic indifference. He knew he was going to die, he just didn't want to die badly.
A sudden vicious kick in his kidneys made him convulse in pain, his body arching away from the blow but the boy didn't cry out. This was simply another bruise to add to his already black and blue body and he closed his eyes against the waves of pain. His captor's laugh came from behind him, an evil sound that made his skin crawl then he felt his body jerked backwards by the nape of his neck. His eyes fluttered open and he came to face to face with his jailer.
"Oh no, no my young friend, you're not going to die, not yet. I still have use for you." A fuzzy outline of a sneering face came into focus, its voice taunting and foul. "You're going to be my messenger to your chieftain. You're going to help me get my revenge."
And he felt some paper being shoved inside his tunic, sticking to the dried sweat and blood on his heaving chest. He was hauled to his feet and pushed forward, stumbling as they prodded him towards a waiting horse. Rough hands threw him against the animal, who sidestepped in fear and somehow the Medjai found the strength to climb into the saddle, although with his hands still tied, it was difficult.
The extent of his injuries made him lean forward in the saddle, until he was almost lying across the horse's neck but he raised his head and through bleary vision, he saw other men were mounted around him as well.
"We ride!" That same voice cried out and the warrior felt his horse being spurred into action.
They rode through the heat of the day at full gallop and he was disheartened to see they were heading back to his village. At some point, he lost conscious and was awakened when hands shoved him off the horse and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Somehow, he found the strength to get up.
"Go little falcon, fly back to your chief." The voice taunted, and he was suddenly booted in the back with a foot.
The youth fell heavily to the ground again, and sheer exhaustion made it difficult for him to rise.
"Perhaps we've killed him already?" Another voice asked.
"Hush and see how the my puppet rises to do my bidding." The first voice declared.
The warrior did stand, weak and unsteady as he looked into the distance and saw the fuzzy outline of his people's village. He blinked to clear away the sweat from his eyes and saw several dark figures rushing to the perimeters; the alarm had been sounded.
"We've been sighted." The other voice stated.
"Yes."
The youth lurched forward and somehow, made his legs work so he could walk back, each step became harder than the last as he fought through the fog clouded his mind. The only thing that made him keep walking was the desire to return to his people. When the boy was no more than a hundred feet or so from the Medjai already waiting for him, the man pulled out his gun and cradled it in his arms, the sites aimed directly on the back of his prisoner.
"Just a little more." He crooned, and cocked the trigger.
A second in command rushed forward to meet the returning warrior they had thought was lost.
"Perfect!" He cried and fired his rifle.
The impact of the shot hurtled the young warrior into the other man and both fell to the ground, as the surrounding Medjai erupted into action. Men raced to their horses, intent on seeking out those that would kill one of their own in such a cowardly way.
"I think your message has been received."
"Indeed. We ride!" The man cried and waved his men away from the oncoming Medjai. Like so many particles of dust in the wind, they scattered over the dunes and away from their pursuers, leaving behind plumes of dirt spiraling up into the air, like banners waving in the breeze.
~*~ Chapter 2 ~*~
Rick O' Connell sat in the courtyard of the same hotel he and Evy had stayed at more than seven months ago, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu as he waited. He nervously toyed with his glass of iced tea, his long legs stretched out in front of him as remembered a few days before, when they had received a message from Ardeth Bay, asking for them to come back to Cairo. He had found some ancient Egyptian artifacts around a dig site near Hamunaptra, stolen by some fortune seekers and felt the items would be better off safely hidden in England. The O'Connell's were only too happy to comply and a little glad, although communication was still sporadic with the warrior, at least they heard from him on occasion. They never talked about what had happened when the couple first announced to Ardeth they were expecting, nor did they know of what happened that night when Ardeth had gone off into the desert by himself.
And Rick was hoping since he was in Cairo by himself, and Evy was near the end of her eighth month of pregnancy and shouldn't travel, he'd be able to get a chance to talk to his friend.
"O'Connell."
Rick looked up and saw the dark, imposing figure of the Medjai warrior striding towards him, then stood up himself, nervously wiping his sweaty palms on the back of his pants.
"Ardeth." He returned the greeting as the warrior approached the table. "Please, sit down. You want anything?"
Ardeth settled his large frame into a nearby chair but declined the offer.
"My thanks but no. I wish the visit could be longer but I'm afraid all I have time to do is deliver these." He pulled out a small burlap sack from his robes and deposited it onto the table. "I trust Evy is well?"
Rick grinned as he opened the sack to examine the contents. "Yeah, fat and sassy but don't tell her I said that."
"How much longer?"
"We calculated about three maybe four more weeks. I can't wait to see what we're having. Jonathan and I say it's a girl but Evy's dead set on a son. You know, there's these old wives tales about how you can tell the sex of a baby before its born? Something about a wedding ring and a piece...."
Rick stopped rambling, suddenly aware of the look of loss in Ardeth's eyes.
"Ah Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...." He stammered.
"It is alright. You're excited about the birth of your child, as you should be." Ardeth quieted Rick's fear with a wave of his hand. "It is a blessed event and you must let me know who's right, you or Evy."
"I certainly will. How are you doing these days?" Rick asked point blank, aware of what precious time they had slipping away for this visit.
"Each day gets better than the last. Thank you for asking, al sadiq." Ardeth rose up from the chair and said with regret, "I am sorry but I must go now. I am needed elsewhere."
"Trouble?" Rick recognized the look on the warrior's face.
"Yes. One of our more inexperienced warriors was killed in front of his tribe yesterday, an blatant act of cowardice and my people are calling for retaliation."
"Who would have done something like that?"
"Some of the same men who killed my wife." Ardeth said softly. "They left a message for me and I'm on my way to the village now." His hand rested on the hilt of his scimitar and that action didn't go unnoticed.
"Sweet Jesus. Do you need my help?" Rick offered.
"Any other time, I would relish the chance to fight with you by my side, but your wife needs you. Not to die in some battle that doesn't involve you. Do you understand?'
"Yeah although I'd rather help. But you're right, since I'm leaving tomorrow morning on the next flight back to England."
Both men walked out of the courtyard and to the area where Ardeth's horse was tethered, and were silent for a moment, not sure what to say but feeling the need to say something more.
Rick cleared his throat and went first, trying to fight the sinking feeling he may never see his friend again.
"Be careful out there, ok? Don't do anything stupid like getting yourself killed." He extended his hand out. "My kid needs another uncle and godfather and you've been nominated."
Ardeth blinked in surprise, speechless at the honor bestowed upon him by O'Connell and he stared at the offered hand for a moment before grasping it in a firm grip of his own.
"Shukran al sadiq. Shukran." Ardeth replied, his voice a little hoarse. "I will contact you soon."
And Rick watched as Ardeth mounted his horse and with a nod of his head, said goodbye to the departing warrior as he rode out of town. He was still having a bad feeling about this, like something terrible was going to happen but at the present moment, Rick thought he'd be more of a hindrance than help. So with a sigh, he tucked the sack into his shirt and decided to check out the hotel's restaurant so he could get something to eat. But first, he needed to stop off in his room to change.
He never made it to the restaurant.
~*~ Chapter 3 ~*~
When Ardeth arrived at the village, the commander of the warriors named Nabil met him at the gates and ushered him into a nearby building. There they met with the ten other commanders of the tribes and Ardeth was handed the message sent to him, the paper covered with blotches of blood serving as a grim reminder of the loss to the Medjai. Out of respect, none of the other men had read it or knew the contents and now waited patiently for Ardeth to say something.
"Ardeth?" Nabil asked, concerned when he saw the warrior's face hardened with hatred. He had seen that look only once before, after his wife's death.
"It is from Adham Sariyah, brother to Marid, the man I killed almost twelve months ago. He is issuing a challenge to me, in retribution of his brother's death."
"What kind of challenge?" Another commander asked.
"A fight. The prize is my life....and that of my friend's, Rick O'Connell." Ardeth crumpled up the paper with an angry fist. "I am to meet my escort tonight at dusk outside of Cairo, where they will take me to their camp."
"You need not accept this challenge. What is the life of the American to us anyway?" A commander declared. "Is he not the same who released He Who Shall Not Be Named? Is he not the one the elders have spoken against?"
Another commander agreed and stated Ardeth should not accept the challenge, instead they should capture the escort, find the camp and destroy the bandits, once and for all, the death of the young Medjai avenged.
Ardeth listened as the men continued their discussion then held up his hand for silence.
"My brothers, O'Connell is my friend. And while most of you do not deem his life valuable enough to save, I do. I have seen the good in this man and the risk of the challenge is mine and mine alone to take. He saved my life in the past, and it is a debt of gratitude I must repay."
"You would be willing to die for him?" Asked a commander.
"I am willing to save him, so his wife still has a husband and their new baby....a father."
"Such a great risk for you to undertake Ardeth, but I understand." Nabil said quietly. "Still we must vote on this."
Ardeth nodded. "Do what you must but know this, I leave for Cairo within the hour. All I ask is for reinforcements to follow about an hour behind me. I agree with Qudamah, we should seize this opportunity to strike back at our enemies."
The commanders all started talking again, and soon the vote was passed. Ardeth didn't stay around for the outcome, instead he went to the stables and prepared his mount, his scimitars and making sure his small dagger was tucked inside one boot. Seeing the dagger stopped him and for a moment, he thought back to a night long ago when with one quick thrust, it would have ended his life. Instead of death, the easier path, he did the honorable thing and chose life, a road he traveled littered with holes and pitfalls, as well as victories and triumphs. Each day was a triumph, a victory into its self that strengthened Ardeth and molded him into something more than just a warrior. He was a man who had learned to accept his sorrow and rise above it, and in doing so, became almost invincible.
He mounted his horse and prayed to Allah that tonight, his invincibility would also serve as protection for his friend as well as himself.
~*~ Chapter 4 ~*~
As instructed, Ardeth waited at the city limits and one hour after dusk, four men came riding up from the south, dressed in non descript robes, their weapons already drawn on the Medjai. The leader of the men rode forward and met Ardeth, his eyes black and lifeless, his face drawn into a sneer of hatred as he glanced over the imposing warrior. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew of the legend of the Medjai and about the warrior's prowess in battle. And he selfishly thought he was glad that tonight, he would not be the one facing the Medjai in the challenge.
"Come. And no tricks or you're friend dies." He grunted and kicked his horse into a gallop.
They rode for some time, deep out into the desert, their only guide to their destination the stars overheard, shining like a thousand diamonds against the black velvet of the night sky.
Eventually in the distance, Ardeth could see a large bonfire and as they rode closer, it grew in size until it revealed through its light a large circle of men, all waiting to see the night's challenge. At the far end of the circle, O'Connell was tied to two wooden stakes, driven deep into the ground, his arms outstretched to their limits and his head resting on one shoulder. He had been beaten, the testimony to the punishment he received in numerous cuts and bruises, and blood slowly seeped onto his shirt from a wound near his temple. Although showing no outward emotion, Ardeth's inside clenched in pain from the memory of his own beating, and for a moment that recollection stole the breath right out of him.
The escort stopped and a sea of hostility surrounded Ardeth's horse, as the bandits closed in on their hated enemy. In response, the animal started rearing and sidestepping.
"Call off your men or I will allow Sabeeh free rein." Ardeth called out, knowing Adham was in the surrounding crowd somewhere.
"Just like a Medjai, arrogant even in the face of death. Let him dismount and bring him to me." Adham called out and appeared in the center of the circle.
Forceful hands dragged Ardeth over to his captor and the two men glared at each other for a few moments, emotions running high as their animosity took over any rational thought.
"Medjai dog." Adham greeted.
"Murderer." Ardeth returned the compliment.
"Do you know why I'm letting you live right now, Medjai? Because I'm a good leader and wanted to provide my men with something entertaining tonight."
A howl of approval went up from the crowd.
"A good leader who kills innocent women and children, you have an odd perception of yourself." Ardeth stated.
"Ah but we are the same warrior, you and I, so close in being brothers since we both kill. The subtle difference is you kill as duty, I kill because of what I want."
"I thank Allah everyday for this difference."
Suddenly Adham swung out and hit Ardeth in the face, the blow almost knocking the warrior back but the two bandits holding him kept him from falling.
"I should kill you right now for your insolence." Adham hissed as he grabbed a handful of Ardeth's hair and jerked his head upright. His eyes widened with shock when he saw the warrior smile.
"But you won't, good leader that you are. You wouldn't want to disappoint your men."
Adham stepped back and laughed, shaking his head in wonderment. "Ah Medjai, see I told you how close we are, you even understand me. So you must understand the need for this challenge, I will not allow Marid's murder to go unreciprocated."
"Just as I could not allow the murder of my wife to go unanswered."
"Indeed. Then here are the rules, if disobeyed you will be killed. There are three markers in the circle, each marker tied with a sash. As you advance to each one, you must take the sash before going to the next. My men, whom I've chosen personally, will fight you in combat and try to steal the sash from you. By the third marker, if you're successful and have all three sashes, you get to free your friend and leave here, alive if not a little bloody. No one else can interfere with this, or they will be killed. My men can attack with whatever weapon they chose, from wherever they chose as long as they fight in the circle."
"You'll let us leave if I win?" Ardeth asked, unconvinced that Adham would let them go that easily.
"Of course, you have my word." Adham smiled an evil smile, having already decided the conclusion of the challenge. "Do you accept these rules?"
"I accept."
"Then let the challenge begin!" The leader cried and the crowd roared their approval.
At the sudden noise, Rick regained consciousness and stared through blood shots eyes at the scene unfolding before him. It took a moment or two for it to register that Ardeth was here, and that he had come to save his friend.
"Oh God, no..." He whispered through cracked lips. When first captured, Adham made certain O'Connell knew every detail of what would take place tonight, including the outcome and Rick didn't want to witness it. He didn't want to see what they had in store for his friend and he cried out in anger against the restraints, straining to free himself although it did no good.
Ardeth was placed at the opposite end of the circle, the first marker a few feet from him and taking a deep breath he walked towards it and took the sash. He needed all of his concentration for the coming fight, and dared not risk a glance at O'Connell, even though he had heard his cry and was concerned for his friend.
A man burst out from the crowd and ran towards him, his sword raised for a killing strike, roaring his own battle yell as he rushed at the Medjai. Ardeth reacted without a second thought, his own scimitar whispering with a metallic ring as it was pulled from its sheath and he parried the blow. A moment later, the man was dead, falling to the ground lifeless as the blood spurted from his cut throat.
Ignoring the crowd's disapproval, Ardeth advanced to the second marker and took the sash, tensing for the attack and rocking back on the balls of his feet.
One man erupted from the crowd and ran at the Medjai but at the last moment, veered to the right, and Ardeth heard the release of a bowstring. A second later, an arrow was imbedded in his thigh and Ardeth staggered back from the impact and the attack of the bandit. As the two men were locked into their struggle, another man came out from the crowd, dropping the bow and drawing his own weapon to join the fight. The sound of scimitar and swords rang out into the quiet of the night, the repeated blows sounding like the toll of a bell, the crowd holding their collective breath to see how the warrior fared against two of their number.
"Did I forget to mention, as you advance to each marker, the number of your attackers increase?" Adham called out maliciously and the crowed laughed at the cleverness of their leader.
The laughter died down when first one man was defeated with a slash to the midsection and fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. The second man seized the opportunity and grabbed the still protruding shaft of the arrow in Ardeth's thigh and viciously twisted.
White-hot blazing pain shot through his body, almost making him pass out from the intensity of it and Ardeth swallowed back his scream of agony. Instead he increased his attack and before long, that bandit lay dead on the ground as well.
Doubled over, chest heaving from the exertion, Ardeth stood for a moment with his hands on his knees, trying to recoup some precious strength. He then quickly seized the shaft and clenching his teeth against the pain, ripped out the arrow from his flesh, unable to hide the shout that sprang from his throat.
No one in the crowd moved, all watching the man before them and some had to grudgingly admit, the warrior was good. Very good.
"Keep moving, Bay. Resting betweens markers is not allowed and results in this." With a wave of his hand, Adham signaled to two men who went over to the still struggling O'Connell and punched him a few times in the midsection.
Ardeth nodded his understanding, daring not to look at Rick and took the sash from the third and final marker. His last three attackers were of a different approach, and arrogantly walked out between the Medjai and O'Connell into the circle. They were huge men, one towering goon arrogantly twirling his sword as the adversaries studied each other, the tension in the crowd stretched as tight as wire as they waited too see what happened next. Ardeth stood poised and ready, his scimitars waiting and balanced in each hand, his mind ignoring the pain radiating from his thigh and various other cuts on his body. His vision narrowed on in his opponents and he keenly watched, waited to see who would move first.
When the tension was thick and almost tangible, the three men attacked, using a different tactic as they rushed the Medjai simultaneously. They waded into battle, each man coming from a different direction and Ardeth found himself encircled and fighting for his life. Each parry, each block from their swords made his hands and arms ache from the force of the blows, and he felt it almost down to his feet. For the first few minutes of the battle, Ardeth was on the defensive as he strived to quickly learn each man's weakness and to exploit it to his advantage. Pushing aside all else, not allowing any distractions, any memories of his own loss, Ardeth reached deep into his psyche and let his warrior instincts rule and guide his course of action.
A small victory was awarded a moment later when the first man went down, bleeding profusely and dying.
In retaliation, the other two men increased their attack and pushed Ardeth away from the marker and towards one side of the crowd, who were all to eager to join in the battle.
"Enough!" Adham bellowed. "Break and resume in the circle!"
A last ringing blow made Ardeth stumble back into the horde and before he could regain his balance, he felt a searing pain blossom between his ribs, the intensity making him gasp out loud. Someone in the crowd had stabbed him. Brutal, eager hands reached out, steadied the warrior and pushed him back to the other men, and they resumed their attack, with knowing smiles. Their trick had worked, a fellow bandit making it easier for them to finish the Medjai, thus gaining them the gratitude from their leader.
He felt like he was dying, and probably was but that mattered not, for now he allowed himself to look at O'Connell, seeing the anguish on his friend's face but spurred on even more by the image of Evie's face if she learned about the death of her husband.
Wife. Child.
If Ardeth was to be denied these things, he would make certain O'Connell would not and he reached again, for the last reserve of his strength, going down further into himself than ever before, and coming face to face with his true self. Invincible. Strong. A Medjai.
He bellowed his battle cry and surprised the bandits with a charge, the last thing they were expecting from a warrior supposedly bleeding to death. His scimitars snaked out, dealing out blows and thrusts that came dangerously close and the bandits backpedaled, unprepared for the onslaught.
The crowd couldn't help but roar its approval, which was now for Ardeth. They too had thought the Medjai was failing until this burst of skill and swordsmanship and they unconsciously moved closer, to watch the warrior for God extract his wrath on his enemies.
One more man went down, dead before he hit the sand and the crowed cheered.
One bandit left, the one who had arrogantly thought this would have been an easy kill, who was now staring into the eyes of his own death.
Adham almost screamed out in frustration, the tide of the battle turning to favor the Medjai and he resisted the urge to pull out his hair. Instead his cunning mind formulated another plan, another way for vengeance and like the snake he was, slithered away from his men, and ran to a nearby horse. He looked back at what could only be described as a scene from hell, the circle littered with dead bodies, the sand turning red from all the blood, the fire making the faces of his men seem twisted and obscene with blood lust.
And in the midst of it all, the figure of his hated foe, the Medjai warrior stood alone in the circle....and triumphant. His chosen men were all dead.
But there was still a way to defeat the warrior, and with sudden evil inspiration, Adham kicked the horse into a gallop and headed towards O'Connell, who was still tied to the stakes.
Exhausted, weak and breathing heavy, Ardeth slowly limped towards O'Connell, the three sashes still tied about his waist, and ignoring the wild cheering from the crowd. He was mildly surprised no one was stopping him, prepared for any sudden attacks from the bandits but no one made a move towards him and Ardeth relaxed his guard. He sheathed his scimitars and pulled out his dagger with one shaking hand, finally reaching O'Connell's side and preparing to cut the ropes.
Rick was conscious and staring in wonder at his friend, having never seen anything like what he had just witnessed in all of his life. It was something both beautiful in form and execution and honestly brutal, in its basic lesson of kill or be killed. A newfound respect formed in Rick's mind and he was very glad that the formidable Medjai was a friend, rather than foe. And considering the punishment Ardeth had taken a few minutes ago, it was not a surprise when the warrior leaned heavily against him as he cut the ropes on one wrist.
"Ardeth, you ok?"
"I will be my friend, once we leave here." Ardeth whispered, not wanting to admit he lacked the power to cut through the ropes quickly. One arm fell and Rick grunted both from the pain of the circulation returning and Ardeth almost slumped against him.
"Here, let me." Rick said and helped guide Ardeth's hand to the other wrist. They had almost cut through when they saw Adham riding towards them, a gun aimed at the warrior, his face contorted in rage.
Reacting without thought, Ardeth took his dagger and threw it at his enemy, who at the same moment fired the gun. The shot rang out and was coupled with a cry from the sentry's posted on the outskirts of the circle.
"Medjai! Medjai!" They shouted.
The impact of the bullet into Ardeth's chest knocked both men over, and they fell heavily to the sand, with Rick on the bottom bearing most of the weight, whatever strands of the rope snapping at his wrist from the sudden pull.
Adham fell lifeless from the horse, the dagger embedded deep into his black heart and was dead within a matter of moments, his blank eyes missing the circle dissolving, his men fleeing into the night as the Medjai swarmed over them. Chaos ruled as the bandits ran, the only thought was for their own survival and no one spared a second glance at the fallen Medjai and American.
"Ardeth? Oh God, c'mon buddy. Don't do this to me." With super human strength, he rolled off the limp body of his friend, then scooted around to his side, and picked him up halfway, cradling the dark head in his lap, lacking to the power to do anything else but wait.
He gently tapped Ardeth's face, trying to rouse him, desperate to see his friend was still alive.
"Talk to me, Ardeth. Don't die on me, not yet." Rick swallowed the knot of fear in his throat, ignored the panic when he saw the uneven rise and fall of the warrior's chest. "Remember, my kid needs an uncle and godfather, and you're all I've got."
Relief flooded through him when he saw Ardeth's eyes flutter open but was short lived with the whispered reply.
"It was....a good fight. Good day to die."
"Yeah it was but you're not doing anything except getting better. You hear me?"
Ardeth swallowed, shuddering convulsively as he grew weaker. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake.
"So easy....to let go. Not as hard as I thought..." Ardeth breathed, his eyes slowly closing.
"Ardeth?" Rick gently shook him.
"What does it take to kill a Medjai?" A cruel voice wondered. A shadow fell across them and Rick stared up in horror as a bandit stood over them, a sword ready to deal the final fatal thrust. He reacted the only way he knew how, and covered as much of his friend's body as he could, protecting him with his own flesh and blood. Sudden gurgling noises made him look up and he saw the man suddenly lurch forward and pitch sideways to the ground, dead from the scimitar in his back, thrown by Nabil. The commander dismounted and hurried over to the side of his fallen friend, noting both men's bruises and wounds and silently wondering at what hell they had both endured.
"Have no fear, I am a friend of Ardeth's." Nabil explained. "Come, let us get you both out of here. Can you walk?"
Rick nodded but refused to relinquish his hold on the warrior. As more Medjai rushed over to help, both men where carried away and taken to the nearest village for the healers to tend. No one commented on the deathly pale face of Ardeth, and no one objected as O'Connell himself carried the limp body inside the healer's building, for none could say he didn't deserve that honor.
~*~ Chapter 5 ~*~
"You must go, O'Connell?" Nabil asked, amazed at the speed of the American's healing. "You're still not fully recovered." He stood in the healer's building, noting the other empty bed
"Yeah, I'm at least a week overdue in getting back home and my wife is about three weeks from giving birth. Although she understands what happened, I can't miss the birth of my child."
"I understand." Nabil came over and placed a hand on Rick's shoulder. "You've been a good friend, do not blame yourself for what has happened. All Medjai respect and honor you."
Rick ducked his head in embarrassment but spoke honestly from the heart. "I didn't want that, although I do appreciate it, I just wanted my friend back. Where is the grave again?"
Nabil gave him the directions and watched the other man slowly walk through the village, some of his people shyly approaching him and expressing their thanks. O'Connell took their offerings with a smile but scanned the horizon until he saw the cemetery, and swallowed back some sadness as he continued walking. He had never seen the grave before now and wasn't sure how to feel about it.
In the shade of some trees, on a little crest overlooking the village, Rick walked through the tombstones until he came to the last one, and the figure of his friend standing quietly in front of it.
"Ardeth?"
The warrior turned, a quick smile easing away the lingering sorrow, although his eyes were still misty and clouded. Considering his own brush with death, Ardeth was still recovering, his face a little pale, his mouth in a tight line against the pain. The only scars from what had happened were already healing, however the bandages were a silent testament that some scars took longer than others.
"O'Connell." He greeted his friend.
"I'm not bothering you, am I?"
"No, just paying some last respects to my wife."
The two men silently looked at the grave, lovingly tended with fresh wild flowers, the smoothness of the stone indicating a well cared for marker.
"I guess you still miss her?" Rick asked after a moment.
"Sometimes. In the beginning after her death, I wanted to kill myself, so I could join her in the afterlife."
Rick silently gasped, until now only guessing the story about the night after they had fought. "But you didn't...I mean that's obvious but...."
Ardeth nodded. "It's alright, I know what you mean. I could've chosen the easier path but instead, I chose to live. And I have not regretted my decision for one moment, not even the night I died."
And both men remembered the night of their rescue from the bandit's camp, for once inside the healer's home, Ardeth had passed away in Rick's arms. Only the quick thinking and stubbornness of O'Connell, who somehow called the warrior back from the brink of death with his screams and shouts, saved Ardeth's life. Although all who had witnessed it said the hand of God had been on O'Connell's side, Ardeth's chest had the bruise to prove it.
"I've been wanting to tell you, sorry about hitting your chest. I, ah, didn't mean too but was pretty..." Rick stopped and threaded his fingers through his hair. "Hell, I was pretty scared."
"It was MashaAllah, O' Connell. By the grace of God."
"Yeah well, I never did thank you for coming and saving my sorry ass." Rick couldn't help but grin. "I must be losing my touch. When those bastards jumped me at the hotel, I went down swinging but I guess it wasn't good enough."
"It was what a friend does for a friend. Besides, my debt of gratitude is now repaid."
"Well let me tell you how glad I am for your friendship. You've certainly redeemed yourself." Rick extended his forearm, and Ardeth grasped it without hesitation. A moment later, Ardeth found himself in a gruff bear hug, Rick thumping his back repeatedly and he couldn't help but wheeze with pain from it.
"O'Connell, you're killing me with your friendship." Ardeth said, with a muffled voice since his head was pressed against Rick's shoulder.
"Oh yeah, sorry." The men stepped back from one another but both were smiling, pleased the new bonds of friendship growing even stronger. "Listen, I gotta get going. Evy will kill me if I miss this plane."
Ardeth chuckled at the image of O'Connell's wife giving him hell for another missed flight.
"Are you coming back? Nabil is worried about you, said you should be resting instead of walking around."
"Nabil is like a mother hen, always clucking over me. But yes, I'm walking back. Go ahead, I'll catch up in a moment."
He turned back towards the grave and bent down, clumsily regaining his balance as his sore thigh ached in protest. With a loving hand, he adjusted the fresh bunch of flowers he had placed on the grave earlier, and closed his eyes in prayer. However one word rang through his mind, echoing until it made more sense, in his heart and soul.
Redemption.
Trying to forgive himself over the death of his son and wife had been the hardest obstacle to accomplish, the staggering loss of his family almost making him hate himself for what he was, what he believed in and had dedicated his life too. O'Connell was right, he had certainly redeemed himself because he spared another person's suffering, and their spouse the grief over a life lost. And although at the moment, he felt more like an old man with all his bruises and aches, he also felt invincible.
Ardeth left the cemetery with a smile, and slowly walked back to village, enjoying the sudden gentle breeze that sprang up from the east and caressed his face. And he thought it felt much like what Janan used to do when she was pleased with something he had accomplished.
THE END ?
"Sequel to When Hero's Fail"
Disclaimer: The characters of Rick and Evy O'Connell and Ardeth Bay belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. All other characters belong to the author.
Originally I wasn't planning on doing a sequel but I was struck by inspiration and this just seemed right. I hope you enjoy it. Again it takes place a little after the first one And thank you all for reading this, it's greatly appreciated.
~*~ Chapter 1 ~* ~
The young Medjai warrior was dumped onto the hard sand, with his hands tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth. Although his heart was racing with fear, the youth did his best not to show any emotion to his enemies, his face a mask of stoic indifference. He knew he was going to die, he just didn't want to die badly.
A sudden vicious kick in his kidneys made him convulse in pain, his body arching away from the blow but the boy didn't cry out. This was simply another bruise to add to his already black and blue body and he closed his eyes against the waves of pain. His captor's laugh came from behind him, an evil sound that made his skin crawl then he felt his body jerked backwards by the nape of his neck. His eyes fluttered open and he came to face to face with his jailer.
"Oh no, no my young friend, you're not going to die, not yet. I still have use for you." A fuzzy outline of a sneering face came into focus, its voice taunting and foul. "You're going to be my messenger to your chieftain. You're going to help me get my revenge."
And he felt some paper being shoved inside his tunic, sticking to the dried sweat and blood on his heaving chest. He was hauled to his feet and pushed forward, stumbling as they prodded him towards a waiting horse. Rough hands threw him against the animal, who sidestepped in fear and somehow the Medjai found the strength to climb into the saddle, although with his hands still tied, it was difficult.
The extent of his injuries made him lean forward in the saddle, until he was almost lying across the horse's neck but he raised his head and through bleary vision, he saw other men were mounted around him as well.
"We ride!" That same voice cried out and the warrior felt his horse being spurred into action.
They rode through the heat of the day at full gallop and he was disheartened to see they were heading back to his village. At some point, he lost conscious and was awakened when hands shoved him off the horse and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Somehow, he found the strength to get up.
"Go little falcon, fly back to your chief." The voice taunted, and he was suddenly booted in the back with a foot.
The youth fell heavily to the ground again, and sheer exhaustion made it difficult for him to rise.
"Perhaps we've killed him already?" Another voice asked.
"Hush and see how the my puppet rises to do my bidding." The first voice declared.
The warrior did stand, weak and unsteady as he looked into the distance and saw the fuzzy outline of his people's village. He blinked to clear away the sweat from his eyes and saw several dark figures rushing to the perimeters; the alarm had been sounded.
"We've been sighted." The other voice stated.
"Yes."
The youth lurched forward and somehow, made his legs work so he could walk back, each step became harder than the last as he fought through the fog clouded his mind. The only thing that made him keep walking was the desire to return to his people. When the boy was no more than a hundred feet or so from the Medjai already waiting for him, the man pulled out his gun and cradled it in his arms, the sites aimed directly on the back of his prisoner.
"Just a little more." He crooned, and cocked the trigger.
A second in command rushed forward to meet the returning warrior they had thought was lost.
"Perfect!" He cried and fired his rifle.
The impact of the shot hurtled the young warrior into the other man and both fell to the ground, as the surrounding Medjai erupted into action. Men raced to their horses, intent on seeking out those that would kill one of their own in such a cowardly way.
"I think your message has been received."
"Indeed. We ride!" The man cried and waved his men away from the oncoming Medjai. Like so many particles of dust in the wind, they scattered over the dunes and away from their pursuers, leaving behind plumes of dirt spiraling up into the air, like banners waving in the breeze.
~*~ Chapter 2 ~*~
Rick O' Connell sat in the courtyard of the same hotel he and Evy had stayed at more than seven months ago, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu as he waited. He nervously toyed with his glass of iced tea, his long legs stretched out in front of him as remembered a few days before, when they had received a message from Ardeth Bay, asking for them to come back to Cairo. He had found some ancient Egyptian artifacts around a dig site near Hamunaptra, stolen by some fortune seekers and felt the items would be better off safely hidden in England. The O'Connell's were only too happy to comply and a little glad, although communication was still sporadic with the warrior, at least they heard from him on occasion. They never talked about what had happened when the couple first announced to Ardeth they were expecting, nor did they know of what happened that night when Ardeth had gone off into the desert by himself.
And Rick was hoping since he was in Cairo by himself, and Evy was near the end of her eighth month of pregnancy and shouldn't travel, he'd be able to get a chance to talk to his friend.
"O'Connell."
Rick looked up and saw the dark, imposing figure of the Medjai warrior striding towards him, then stood up himself, nervously wiping his sweaty palms on the back of his pants.
"Ardeth." He returned the greeting as the warrior approached the table. "Please, sit down. You want anything?"
Ardeth settled his large frame into a nearby chair but declined the offer.
"My thanks but no. I wish the visit could be longer but I'm afraid all I have time to do is deliver these." He pulled out a small burlap sack from his robes and deposited it onto the table. "I trust Evy is well?"
Rick grinned as he opened the sack to examine the contents. "Yeah, fat and sassy but don't tell her I said that."
"How much longer?"
"We calculated about three maybe four more weeks. I can't wait to see what we're having. Jonathan and I say it's a girl but Evy's dead set on a son. You know, there's these old wives tales about how you can tell the sex of a baby before its born? Something about a wedding ring and a piece...."
Rick stopped rambling, suddenly aware of the look of loss in Ardeth's eyes.
"Ah Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...." He stammered.
"It is alright. You're excited about the birth of your child, as you should be." Ardeth quieted Rick's fear with a wave of his hand. "It is a blessed event and you must let me know who's right, you or Evy."
"I certainly will. How are you doing these days?" Rick asked point blank, aware of what precious time they had slipping away for this visit.
"Each day gets better than the last. Thank you for asking, al sadiq." Ardeth rose up from the chair and said with regret, "I am sorry but I must go now. I am needed elsewhere."
"Trouble?" Rick recognized the look on the warrior's face.
"Yes. One of our more inexperienced warriors was killed in front of his tribe yesterday, an blatant act of cowardice and my people are calling for retaliation."
"Who would have done something like that?"
"Some of the same men who killed my wife." Ardeth said softly. "They left a message for me and I'm on my way to the village now." His hand rested on the hilt of his scimitar and that action didn't go unnoticed.
"Sweet Jesus. Do you need my help?" Rick offered.
"Any other time, I would relish the chance to fight with you by my side, but your wife needs you. Not to die in some battle that doesn't involve you. Do you understand?'
"Yeah although I'd rather help. But you're right, since I'm leaving tomorrow morning on the next flight back to England."
Both men walked out of the courtyard and to the area where Ardeth's horse was tethered, and were silent for a moment, not sure what to say but feeling the need to say something more.
Rick cleared his throat and went first, trying to fight the sinking feeling he may never see his friend again.
"Be careful out there, ok? Don't do anything stupid like getting yourself killed." He extended his hand out. "My kid needs another uncle and godfather and you've been nominated."
Ardeth blinked in surprise, speechless at the honor bestowed upon him by O'Connell and he stared at the offered hand for a moment before grasping it in a firm grip of his own.
"Shukran al sadiq. Shukran." Ardeth replied, his voice a little hoarse. "I will contact you soon."
And Rick watched as Ardeth mounted his horse and with a nod of his head, said goodbye to the departing warrior as he rode out of town. He was still having a bad feeling about this, like something terrible was going to happen but at the present moment, Rick thought he'd be more of a hindrance than help. So with a sigh, he tucked the sack into his shirt and decided to check out the hotel's restaurant so he could get something to eat. But first, he needed to stop off in his room to change.
He never made it to the restaurant.
~*~ Chapter 3 ~*~
When Ardeth arrived at the village, the commander of the warriors named Nabil met him at the gates and ushered him into a nearby building. There they met with the ten other commanders of the tribes and Ardeth was handed the message sent to him, the paper covered with blotches of blood serving as a grim reminder of the loss to the Medjai. Out of respect, none of the other men had read it or knew the contents and now waited patiently for Ardeth to say something.
"Ardeth?" Nabil asked, concerned when he saw the warrior's face hardened with hatred. He had seen that look only once before, after his wife's death.
"It is from Adham Sariyah, brother to Marid, the man I killed almost twelve months ago. He is issuing a challenge to me, in retribution of his brother's death."
"What kind of challenge?" Another commander asked.
"A fight. The prize is my life....and that of my friend's, Rick O'Connell." Ardeth crumpled up the paper with an angry fist. "I am to meet my escort tonight at dusk outside of Cairo, where they will take me to their camp."
"You need not accept this challenge. What is the life of the American to us anyway?" A commander declared. "Is he not the same who released He Who Shall Not Be Named? Is he not the one the elders have spoken against?"
Another commander agreed and stated Ardeth should not accept the challenge, instead they should capture the escort, find the camp and destroy the bandits, once and for all, the death of the young Medjai avenged.
Ardeth listened as the men continued their discussion then held up his hand for silence.
"My brothers, O'Connell is my friend. And while most of you do not deem his life valuable enough to save, I do. I have seen the good in this man and the risk of the challenge is mine and mine alone to take. He saved my life in the past, and it is a debt of gratitude I must repay."
"You would be willing to die for him?" Asked a commander.
"I am willing to save him, so his wife still has a husband and their new baby....a father."
"Such a great risk for you to undertake Ardeth, but I understand." Nabil said quietly. "Still we must vote on this."
Ardeth nodded. "Do what you must but know this, I leave for Cairo within the hour. All I ask is for reinforcements to follow about an hour behind me. I agree with Qudamah, we should seize this opportunity to strike back at our enemies."
The commanders all started talking again, and soon the vote was passed. Ardeth didn't stay around for the outcome, instead he went to the stables and prepared his mount, his scimitars and making sure his small dagger was tucked inside one boot. Seeing the dagger stopped him and for a moment, he thought back to a night long ago when with one quick thrust, it would have ended his life. Instead of death, the easier path, he did the honorable thing and chose life, a road he traveled littered with holes and pitfalls, as well as victories and triumphs. Each day was a triumph, a victory into its self that strengthened Ardeth and molded him into something more than just a warrior. He was a man who had learned to accept his sorrow and rise above it, and in doing so, became almost invincible.
He mounted his horse and prayed to Allah that tonight, his invincibility would also serve as protection for his friend as well as himself.
~*~ Chapter 4 ~*~
As instructed, Ardeth waited at the city limits and one hour after dusk, four men came riding up from the south, dressed in non descript robes, their weapons already drawn on the Medjai. The leader of the men rode forward and met Ardeth, his eyes black and lifeless, his face drawn into a sneer of hatred as he glanced over the imposing warrior. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew of the legend of the Medjai and about the warrior's prowess in battle. And he selfishly thought he was glad that tonight, he would not be the one facing the Medjai in the challenge.
"Come. And no tricks or you're friend dies." He grunted and kicked his horse into a gallop.
They rode for some time, deep out into the desert, their only guide to their destination the stars overheard, shining like a thousand diamonds against the black velvet of the night sky.
Eventually in the distance, Ardeth could see a large bonfire and as they rode closer, it grew in size until it revealed through its light a large circle of men, all waiting to see the night's challenge. At the far end of the circle, O'Connell was tied to two wooden stakes, driven deep into the ground, his arms outstretched to their limits and his head resting on one shoulder. He had been beaten, the testimony to the punishment he received in numerous cuts and bruises, and blood slowly seeped onto his shirt from a wound near his temple. Although showing no outward emotion, Ardeth's inside clenched in pain from the memory of his own beating, and for a moment that recollection stole the breath right out of him.
The escort stopped and a sea of hostility surrounded Ardeth's horse, as the bandits closed in on their hated enemy. In response, the animal started rearing and sidestepping.
"Call off your men or I will allow Sabeeh free rein." Ardeth called out, knowing Adham was in the surrounding crowd somewhere.
"Just like a Medjai, arrogant even in the face of death. Let him dismount and bring him to me." Adham called out and appeared in the center of the circle.
Forceful hands dragged Ardeth over to his captor and the two men glared at each other for a few moments, emotions running high as their animosity took over any rational thought.
"Medjai dog." Adham greeted.
"Murderer." Ardeth returned the compliment.
"Do you know why I'm letting you live right now, Medjai? Because I'm a good leader and wanted to provide my men with something entertaining tonight."
A howl of approval went up from the crowd.
"A good leader who kills innocent women and children, you have an odd perception of yourself." Ardeth stated.
"Ah but we are the same warrior, you and I, so close in being brothers since we both kill. The subtle difference is you kill as duty, I kill because of what I want."
"I thank Allah everyday for this difference."
Suddenly Adham swung out and hit Ardeth in the face, the blow almost knocking the warrior back but the two bandits holding him kept him from falling.
"I should kill you right now for your insolence." Adham hissed as he grabbed a handful of Ardeth's hair and jerked his head upright. His eyes widened with shock when he saw the warrior smile.
"But you won't, good leader that you are. You wouldn't want to disappoint your men."
Adham stepped back and laughed, shaking his head in wonderment. "Ah Medjai, see I told you how close we are, you even understand me. So you must understand the need for this challenge, I will not allow Marid's murder to go unreciprocated."
"Just as I could not allow the murder of my wife to go unanswered."
"Indeed. Then here are the rules, if disobeyed you will be killed. There are three markers in the circle, each marker tied with a sash. As you advance to each one, you must take the sash before going to the next. My men, whom I've chosen personally, will fight you in combat and try to steal the sash from you. By the third marker, if you're successful and have all three sashes, you get to free your friend and leave here, alive if not a little bloody. No one else can interfere with this, or they will be killed. My men can attack with whatever weapon they chose, from wherever they chose as long as they fight in the circle."
"You'll let us leave if I win?" Ardeth asked, unconvinced that Adham would let them go that easily.
"Of course, you have my word." Adham smiled an evil smile, having already decided the conclusion of the challenge. "Do you accept these rules?"
"I accept."
"Then let the challenge begin!" The leader cried and the crowd roared their approval.
At the sudden noise, Rick regained consciousness and stared through blood shots eyes at the scene unfolding before him. It took a moment or two for it to register that Ardeth was here, and that he had come to save his friend.
"Oh God, no..." He whispered through cracked lips. When first captured, Adham made certain O'Connell knew every detail of what would take place tonight, including the outcome and Rick didn't want to witness it. He didn't want to see what they had in store for his friend and he cried out in anger against the restraints, straining to free himself although it did no good.
Ardeth was placed at the opposite end of the circle, the first marker a few feet from him and taking a deep breath he walked towards it and took the sash. He needed all of his concentration for the coming fight, and dared not risk a glance at O'Connell, even though he had heard his cry and was concerned for his friend.
A man burst out from the crowd and ran towards him, his sword raised for a killing strike, roaring his own battle yell as he rushed at the Medjai. Ardeth reacted without a second thought, his own scimitar whispering with a metallic ring as it was pulled from its sheath and he parried the blow. A moment later, the man was dead, falling to the ground lifeless as the blood spurted from his cut throat.
Ignoring the crowd's disapproval, Ardeth advanced to the second marker and took the sash, tensing for the attack and rocking back on the balls of his feet.
One man erupted from the crowd and ran at the Medjai but at the last moment, veered to the right, and Ardeth heard the release of a bowstring. A second later, an arrow was imbedded in his thigh and Ardeth staggered back from the impact and the attack of the bandit. As the two men were locked into their struggle, another man came out from the crowd, dropping the bow and drawing his own weapon to join the fight. The sound of scimitar and swords rang out into the quiet of the night, the repeated blows sounding like the toll of a bell, the crowd holding their collective breath to see how the warrior fared against two of their number.
"Did I forget to mention, as you advance to each marker, the number of your attackers increase?" Adham called out maliciously and the crowed laughed at the cleverness of their leader.
The laughter died down when first one man was defeated with a slash to the midsection and fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. The second man seized the opportunity and grabbed the still protruding shaft of the arrow in Ardeth's thigh and viciously twisted.
White-hot blazing pain shot through his body, almost making him pass out from the intensity of it and Ardeth swallowed back his scream of agony. Instead he increased his attack and before long, that bandit lay dead on the ground as well.
Doubled over, chest heaving from the exertion, Ardeth stood for a moment with his hands on his knees, trying to recoup some precious strength. He then quickly seized the shaft and clenching his teeth against the pain, ripped out the arrow from his flesh, unable to hide the shout that sprang from his throat.
No one in the crowd moved, all watching the man before them and some had to grudgingly admit, the warrior was good. Very good.
"Keep moving, Bay. Resting betweens markers is not allowed and results in this." With a wave of his hand, Adham signaled to two men who went over to the still struggling O'Connell and punched him a few times in the midsection.
Ardeth nodded his understanding, daring not to look at Rick and took the sash from the third and final marker. His last three attackers were of a different approach, and arrogantly walked out between the Medjai and O'Connell into the circle. They were huge men, one towering goon arrogantly twirling his sword as the adversaries studied each other, the tension in the crowd stretched as tight as wire as they waited too see what happened next. Ardeth stood poised and ready, his scimitars waiting and balanced in each hand, his mind ignoring the pain radiating from his thigh and various other cuts on his body. His vision narrowed on in his opponents and he keenly watched, waited to see who would move first.
When the tension was thick and almost tangible, the three men attacked, using a different tactic as they rushed the Medjai simultaneously. They waded into battle, each man coming from a different direction and Ardeth found himself encircled and fighting for his life. Each parry, each block from their swords made his hands and arms ache from the force of the blows, and he felt it almost down to his feet. For the first few minutes of the battle, Ardeth was on the defensive as he strived to quickly learn each man's weakness and to exploit it to his advantage. Pushing aside all else, not allowing any distractions, any memories of his own loss, Ardeth reached deep into his psyche and let his warrior instincts rule and guide his course of action.
A small victory was awarded a moment later when the first man went down, bleeding profusely and dying.
In retaliation, the other two men increased their attack and pushed Ardeth away from the marker and towards one side of the crowd, who were all to eager to join in the battle.
"Enough!" Adham bellowed. "Break and resume in the circle!"
A last ringing blow made Ardeth stumble back into the horde and before he could regain his balance, he felt a searing pain blossom between his ribs, the intensity making him gasp out loud. Someone in the crowd had stabbed him. Brutal, eager hands reached out, steadied the warrior and pushed him back to the other men, and they resumed their attack, with knowing smiles. Their trick had worked, a fellow bandit making it easier for them to finish the Medjai, thus gaining them the gratitude from their leader.
He felt like he was dying, and probably was but that mattered not, for now he allowed himself to look at O'Connell, seeing the anguish on his friend's face but spurred on even more by the image of Evie's face if she learned about the death of her husband.
Wife. Child.
If Ardeth was to be denied these things, he would make certain O'Connell would not and he reached again, for the last reserve of his strength, going down further into himself than ever before, and coming face to face with his true self. Invincible. Strong. A Medjai.
He bellowed his battle cry and surprised the bandits with a charge, the last thing they were expecting from a warrior supposedly bleeding to death. His scimitars snaked out, dealing out blows and thrusts that came dangerously close and the bandits backpedaled, unprepared for the onslaught.
The crowd couldn't help but roar its approval, which was now for Ardeth. They too had thought the Medjai was failing until this burst of skill and swordsmanship and they unconsciously moved closer, to watch the warrior for God extract his wrath on his enemies.
One more man went down, dead before he hit the sand and the crowed cheered.
One bandit left, the one who had arrogantly thought this would have been an easy kill, who was now staring into the eyes of his own death.
Adham almost screamed out in frustration, the tide of the battle turning to favor the Medjai and he resisted the urge to pull out his hair. Instead his cunning mind formulated another plan, another way for vengeance and like the snake he was, slithered away from his men, and ran to a nearby horse. He looked back at what could only be described as a scene from hell, the circle littered with dead bodies, the sand turning red from all the blood, the fire making the faces of his men seem twisted and obscene with blood lust.
And in the midst of it all, the figure of his hated foe, the Medjai warrior stood alone in the circle....and triumphant. His chosen men were all dead.
But there was still a way to defeat the warrior, and with sudden evil inspiration, Adham kicked the horse into a gallop and headed towards O'Connell, who was still tied to the stakes.
Exhausted, weak and breathing heavy, Ardeth slowly limped towards O'Connell, the three sashes still tied about his waist, and ignoring the wild cheering from the crowd. He was mildly surprised no one was stopping him, prepared for any sudden attacks from the bandits but no one made a move towards him and Ardeth relaxed his guard. He sheathed his scimitars and pulled out his dagger with one shaking hand, finally reaching O'Connell's side and preparing to cut the ropes.
Rick was conscious and staring in wonder at his friend, having never seen anything like what he had just witnessed in all of his life. It was something both beautiful in form and execution and honestly brutal, in its basic lesson of kill or be killed. A newfound respect formed in Rick's mind and he was very glad that the formidable Medjai was a friend, rather than foe. And considering the punishment Ardeth had taken a few minutes ago, it was not a surprise when the warrior leaned heavily against him as he cut the ropes on one wrist.
"Ardeth, you ok?"
"I will be my friend, once we leave here." Ardeth whispered, not wanting to admit he lacked the power to cut through the ropes quickly. One arm fell and Rick grunted both from the pain of the circulation returning and Ardeth almost slumped against him.
"Here, let me." Rick said and helped guide Ardeth's hand to the other wrist. They had almost cut through when they saw Adham riding towards them, a gun aimed at the warrior, his face contorted in rage.
Reacting without thought, Ardeth took his dagger and threw it at his enemy, who at the same moment fired the gun. The shot rang out and was coupled with a cry from the sentry's posted on the outskirts of the circle.
"Medjai! Medjai!" They shouted.
The impact of the bullet into Ardeth's chest knocked both men over, and they fell heavily to the sand, with Rick on the bottom bearing most of the weight, whatever strands of the rope snapping at his wrist from the sudden pull.
Adham fell lifeless from the horse, the dagger embedded deep into his black heart and was dead within a matter of moments, his blank eyes missing the circle dissolving, his men fleeing into the night as the Medjai swarmed over them. Chaos ruled as the bandits ran, the only thought was for their own survival and no one spared a second glance at the fallen Medjai and American.
"Ardeth? Oh God, c'mon buddy. Don't do this to me." With super human strength, he rolled off the limp body of his friend, then scooted around to his side, and picked him up halfway, cradling the dark head in his lap, lacking to the power to do anything else but wait.
He gently tapped Ardeth's face, trying to rouse him, desperate to see his friend was still alive.
"Talk to me, Ardeth. Don't die on me, not yet." Rick swallowed the knot of fear in his throat, ignored the panic when he saw the uneven rise and fall of the warrior's chest. "Remember, my kid needs an uncle and godfather, and you're all I've got."
Relief flooded through him when he saw Ardeth's eyes flutter open but was short lived with the whispered reply.
"It was....a good fight. Good day to die."
"Yeah it was but you're not doing anything except getting better. You hear me?"
Ardeth swallowed, shuddering convulsively as he grew weaker. It was getting harder and harder to stay awake.
"So easy....to let go. Not as hard as I thought..." Ardeth breathed, his eyes slowly closing.
"Ardeth?" Rick gently shook him.
"What does it take to kill a Medjai?" A cruel voice wondered. A shadow fell across them and Rick stared up in horror as a bandit stood over them, a sword ready to deal the final fatal thrust. He reacted the only way he knew how, and covered as much of his friend's body as he could, protecting him with his own flesh and blood. Sudden gurgling noises made him look up and he saw the man suddenly lurch forward and pitch sideways to the ground, dead from the scimitar in his back, thrown by Nabil. The commander dismounted and hurried over to the side of his fallen friend, noting both men's bruises and wounds and silently wondering at what hell they had both endured.
"Have no fear, I am a friend of Ardeth's." Nabil explained. "Come, let us get you both out of here. Can you walk?"
Rick nodded but refused to relinquish his hold on the warrior. As more Medjai rushed over to help, both men where carried away and taken to the nearest village for the healers to tend. No one commented on the deathly pale face of Ardeth, and no one objected as O'Connell himself carried the limp body inside the healer's building, for none could say he didn't deserve that honor.
~*~ Chapter 5 ~*~
"You must go, O'Connell?" Nabil asked, amazed at the speed of the American's healing. "You're still not fully recovered." He stood in the healer's building, noting the other empty bed
"Yeah, I'm at least a week overdue in getting back home and my wife is about three weeks from giving birth. Although she understands what happened, I can't miss the birth of my child."
"I understand." Nabil came over and placed a hand on Rick's shoulder. "You've been a good friend, do not blame yourself for what has happened. All Medjai respect and honor you."
Rick ducked his head in embarrassment but spoke honestly from the heart. "I didn't want that, although I do appreciate it, I just wanted my friend back. Where is the grave again?"
Nabil gave him the directions and watched the other man slowly walk through the village, some of his people shyly approaching him and expressing their thanks. O'Connell took their offerings with a smile but scanned the horizon until he saw the cemetery, and swallowed back some sadness as he continued walking. He had never seen the grave before now and wasn't sure how to feel about it.
In the shade of some trees, on a little crest overlooking the village, Rick walked through the tombstones until he came to the last one, and the figure of his friend standing quietly in front of it.
"Ardeth?"
The warrior turned, a quick smile easing away the lingering sorrow, although his eyes were still misty and clouded. Considering his own brush with death, Ardeth was still recovering, his face a little pale, his mouth in a tight line against the pain. The only scars from what had happened were already healing, however the bandages were a silent testament that some scars took longer than others.
"O'Connell." He greeted his friend.
"I'm not bothering you, am I?"
"No, just paying some last respects to my wife."
The two men silently looked at the grave, lovingly tended with fresh wild flowers, the smoothness of the stone indicating a well cared for marker.
"I guess you still miss her?" Rick asked after a moment.
"Sometimes. In the beginning after her death, I wanted to kill myself, so I could join her in the afterlife."
Rick silently gasped, until now only guessing the story about the night after they had fought. "But you didn't...I mean that's obvious but...."
Ardeth nodded. "It's alright, I know what you mean. I could've chosen the easier path but instead, I chose to live. And I have not regretted my decision for one moment, not even the night I died."
And both men remembered the night of their rescue from the bandit's camp, for once inside the healer's home, Ardeth had passed away in Rick's arms. Only the quick thinking and stubbornness of O'Connell, who somehow called the warrior back from the brink of death with his screams and shouts, saved Ardeth's life. Although all who had witnessed it said the hand of God had been on O'Connell's side, Ardeth's chest had the bruise to prove it.
"I've been wanting to tell you, sorry about hitting your chest. I, ah, didn't mean too but was pretty..." Rick stopped and threaded his fingers through his hair. "Hell, I was pretty scared."
"It was MashaAllah, O' Connell. By the grace of God."
"Yeah well, I never did thank you for coming and saving my sorry ass." Rick couldn't help but grin. "I must be losing my touch. When those bastards jumped me at the hotel, I went down swinging but I guess it wasn't good enough."
"It was what a friend does for a friend. Besides, my debt of gratitude is now repaid."
"Well let me tell you how glad I am for your friendship. You've certainly redeemed yourself." Rick extended his forearm, and Ardeth grasped it without hesitation. A moment later, Ardeth found himself in a gruff bear hug, Rick thumping his back repeatedly and he couldn't help but wheeze with pain from it.
"O'Connell, you're killing me with your friendship." Ardeth said, with a muffled voice since his head was pressed against Rick's shoulder.
"Oh yeah, sorry." The men stepped back from one another but both were smiling, pleased the new bonds of friendship growing even stronger. "Listen, I gotta get going. Evy will kill me if I miss this plane."
Ardeth chuckled at the image of O'Connell's wife giving him hell for another missed flight.
"Are you coming back? Nabil is worried about you, said you should be resting instead of walking around."
"Nabil is like a mother hen, always clucking over me. But yes, I'm walking back. Go ahead, I'll catch up in a moment."
He turned back towards the grave and bent down, clumsily regaining his balance as his sore thigh ached in protest. With a loving hand, he adjusted the fresh bunch of flowers he had placed on the grave earlier, and closed his eyes in prayer. However one word rang through his mind, echoing until it made more sense, in his heart and soul.
Redemption.
Trying to forgive himself over the death of his son and wife had been the hardest obstacle to accomplish, the staggering loss of his family almost making him hate himself for what he was, what he believed in and had dedicated his life too. O'Connell was right, he had certainly redeemed himself because he spared another person's suffering, and their spouse the grief over a life lost. And although at the moment, he felt more like an old man with all his bruises and aches, he also felt invincible.
Ardeth left the cemetery with a smile, and slowly walked back to village, enjoying the sudden gentle breeze that sprang up from the east and caressed his face. And he thought it felt much like what Janan used to do when she was pleased with something he had accomplished.
THE END ?