Was he dreaming? It felt as though he might have been, his
eyes were closed and it was dark, but he could see and he could feel a pull
from somewhere. What might have been a
sigh passed ethereal lips as he tried to catch hold of the many thoughts that
were spinning a confused web about his mind. He had to confess to himself that in that moment… when he felt he had
suddenly woken from oblivion into the dream – it had to be a dream because he
could feel nothing physical – that it disturbed him to feel so out of balance.
He breathed a deep
breath, summoning the power of his mind to bring back his memory – to let him
remember where he was, who was with him, and why he couldn't wake up…
It was like a stream
running backwards, he remembered the fall, the pressure of hot little hands to
pull him down, the hurt, the betrayal… Her dark eyes, calculating…
Agonised, he opened
his mouth and let out a primordial scream that released his spirit into the air
– but nothing more… he still could not wake.
**
Jonathan wasn't sure what hurt the most… his head or his pride. How could he have been so stupid? It was a good hand… it should have won and now… he looked around him at the ramshackle group of natives and their Egyptologist masters, wondering where he fit in.
"Working off a gambling debt… I mean… I ask you!" he muttered under his breath.
"Not thinking of trying to run, are you Carnahan?" A man manoeuvred his horse along side of Jonathan who desperately fought with an uncooperative head – full of the fog of a bloody good hang over – to get to the man's name.
"What? Oh no… no," he let out a bit of a laugh and waved an arm. "Just wondering what all the fuss is about?"
All around them the people of Cairo were hurrying through picking up bits of fallen building, leaves from palm that had been planted for shade, and nervously looking up at the cloudless blue sky as though, at any moment it was going to start spitting poisonous snakes in their direction.
"Some kind of storm apparently," the man answered, "Got the natives all worked up, that's for sure."
"What, like a sand storm you mean?" Jonathan looked nervously around, that was all he needed; to be dragged out into the desert in storm season.
"No, like a storm… lightening, thunder… the whole nine yards."
"Ah…
"So just how far is this dig of yours… not too far I hope, because if there's storms it might not be safe, we might get lost and…"
"Relax Jonathan!"
"I say, wouldn't it be quicker to take the train?" Jonathan asked hopefully. Riding in the desert for a couple of days was not his idea of a good time.
"Would you maybe prefer a few days enjoying the hospitality
of the local jail?"
**
Rick knew he was alone the moment he woke and he panicked. "Evelyn?" he called softly, already reaching for his boots. "Evie!"
He got up and quickly left the tent, stopping instantly at the sight of the chaos that surrounded him.
"Evie!"
"Rick," He turned at the sound of her voice and almost fell over the guy rope for the tent. "I'm all right."
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead as she leaned into him. "I woke up and you were gone. I was worried about you."
"I'm all right. I just," she half shrugged, stopped speaking and then started again. "I just woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. It was early and I didn't want to wake you." They spent a few moments sharing a hug that spoke volumes about the way they still felt about each other, even after all this time, then Rick eased back and let his mind register the mess that had become of the Medjai camp site.
"What the…"
"Wild isn't it?" Evie answered, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. "Ardeth said there was some kind of storm in the night… that the desert sky lit up for miles. Blew the sand about quite a bit, don't you think?"
"A storm?" Rick leaned down his expression fixed firmly in an "I don't like this," kind of expression. "And where is he anyway?" He moved a couple of steps away from his wife, looking for his friend amid the black robed men that even now were trying to bring order to the Chaos. "And what was with you two last night?"
"Nothing," Evie said, perhaps a bit too quickly and Rick turned around, his head leading his shoulder as his eyes bore into her. "Well, except that he was… worried," she added. "He talked about his past a little bit… maybe he thinks that what happened then is somehow connected with what's going on now…"
"Not another one of those, 'it is written' moments! And didn't I tell you we were not getting involved this time?" Rick could never stay mad at her for long, but his exasperation was clear in his voice… exasperation at himself, his own insecurities that made him think – ridiculously – that there may have been something going on between Evie and Ardeth.
Evie opened her mouth, no doubt to protest that it was not her fault when a hand fell heartily onto Rick's shoulder.
"It is said that when a married man wakes with the temper of a camel, he has not properly enjoyed the company of his wife." Ardeth's voice held a hint of amusement. "Good morning, my friend."
"Yeah!" Rick nodded, and gave Ardeth an exaggerated sour look as Evie turned away, blushing. "So what's with the storm?"
Ardeth shook his head, instantly his demeanour changed from the light heartedness of a moment before, to the serious Medjai Chieftain, struggling to come to an understanding of unexplained events. "I do not know."
"What, not at all?" Rick frowned, "You must have seen lots of storms before."
"Yes I have seen many storms, but not like this one." Ardeth gestured toward the sky. "One moment the sky was bright with starts, and the next, darkness covered them and there was lightening… it split the sky as if Allah Himself were angered." He paused, "And then the desert answered as only she knows how. We didn't even have time to see to the horses…"
Rick looked round, panicking slightly when he couldn't see any of the Medjai's proud animals. "What you mean we're stuck here?"
"No." Ardeth answered. "They will not have gone far. I have sent some of my men to find them while we clear up here."
"Rick…? Ardeth…?" Evie's soft, almost nervous voice interrupted their conversation. "What's that?"
**
So this was what it
felt like to be a free spirit… no longer tethered in one place, no longer
trapped and condemned to whispering confusion into the hearts of greedy
men. But what control did he have? So far – he had discovered, much to his
distain – not a great deal. Even the
sands that had so easily answered the call of his will lay almost lifeless at
his ethereal feet – moving little more than if the wind had run her hand
through the grains.
Perhaps he could find
another way to interact with the physical?
Frustration bore anger, and anger hate. That hate had a name, and if it was the last think he were ever to do on this miserable earth he would he would play out his revenge on the one that bore in now…
**
Meirionnydd ached from head to foot. All the rest of the night she had tossed and turned on the floor of the tent she had been thrown into unceremoniously. At least she was away from the walking nightmare that was the creature she – Anton had assured her –had summoned and was now his to control. The vessel that the power of his dark goddess would inhabit until he could find the other parts of the sistrum and comply fully with Her dark will.
But she wasn't away from all of the nightmares… Her dreams were full of blood and fear and death, and she woke in panic, feeling as though she were losing her mind, with a single image in her head: a blue painted tattoo from the chest of the Medjai in her dream, like the head of a hawk, watched over by opened wings. She had to know if the man really existed, or if he were just a figment of her terrified imagination… some wishful thinking for a saviour of a kind that could get her out of the mess her life had become.
She closed her eyes for a moment and the face swam clearly into focus in the front of her eyes, a strong proud face, that in spite of itself held the promise of something more gentle and expressed humility in the rich brown of the eyes. His expression was one of concern, and almost something deeper than that.
Footsteps coming closer snapped her out of her contemplation. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready to fight if necessary, and she held her breath. But the footsteps passed by her tent and her head swam with relief. After many more long moments she got her legs under her and braved the morning air.
She expected that as soon as she put her head outside of the tent flap she would be stopped by her ever present guards, but was surprised, perhaps a little hopeful that the space outside her doorway was empty. Hope gave way to worry and then hope again as she saw everyone huddled around a table that had been set outside Anton's tent. They seemed engrossed in whatever it was they were looking at and for a moment Meirionnydd wondered if there was some small chance she might finally get away.
The morning sun already beat relentlessly down on the top of her head, reminding her that even if she did manage to get away she had no idea where she might go… that she would probably end up dying out in the desert.
A slight gust of wind blew, and a flash of black fabric blowing in the sudden wind registered in the corner of her eyes. The Medjai! If she could get him free, perhaps she could persuade him to take her with him, to safety… She glanced again in the direction of Anton's tent to make sure they were still busy and then, picking her way as carefully as she could, crossed the campsite toward where the Medjai was still tied to a sturdy post.
"You should not be here," he told her in an accent which stirred other memories, memories she hadn't before registered, memories from her dream. "If they find us together they will hurt you."
"They're busy," she told him and moved around behind him to try and work on the knots, to get him loose. She wished she had a knife. "How is your arm?"
"Not good." He shook his head.
The knots refused to yield to her fingers alone; she had no choice but to find a knife from somewhere so that she could cut him free. She came from behind him and paused to look at the wound in his arm. He was right, "not good" described what she saw pretty well. "That's infected," she told him.
"I know." He licked his lips, and took in a huge breath and she noticed then how ill he was starting to look. "Don't waste your chance trying to save me. You should just go."
"Go where?" she asked him, "I'd be dead in five minutes out there."
"Quite right," Meirionnydd froze at the sound of the voice – the woman's voice from the night before. Then she heard the quiet pad of her footsteps. "So you shouldn't even think about trying to run away."
"Leave the girl alone!" Meirionnydd shook her head to try and silence the Medjai, to stop him from trying to defend her even now.
"That's what I always loved about the Medjai… so loyal," Meirionnydd was pushed aside and turned fearfully to regard the woman. She looked better than the night before, as though many of the puncture wounds had healed over night – though there were still places where she was still black and swollen. "Just like little dogs."
"Why don't you leave him alone!" Meirionnydd suddenly snapped, her fear giving way to anger for long enough to let the words burst from her lips. "And who the hell ARE you anyway…?" Even so, she backed up a step when the dark eyes turned in her direction, but the dangerous light in them soon turned to an amused, sarcastic smile.
"That's a good question, little girl. I'm many people… and all of them stronger than before… thanks to you – calling for me with the power of Usert as you did." The hand reached out again to caress her face. Meirionnydd cringed, but held her ground – aware that the Medjai was watching in a way that led her to believe he was willing his strength he had into her small frame. "So now I am all of the people I was before… Meela, Anck-Su-Namun." She let her hand drop away from Meirionnydd's face. "And sometimes, Usert Herself."
"You are NOTHING like Usert!" Meirionnydd recoiled in surprise from the vehement hatred in the Medjai's voice.
"Fighting talk, Medjai!" the woman said. Then she raised her hand. Meirionnydd thought she would hit the man, and foolishly coiled herself ready to leap at her if she did. She didn't for one moment think she would get the better of the woman, but couldn't stand to see violence against a helpless person. It was an affront to her nature. Instead she signalled to two of the men near Anton's tent. They came to her side instantly, looking suspiciously at Meirionnydd. "Cut him down and take him to the girl's tent… and get her something to clean his wounds. He's no good to me dead!"
**
"Evie there's nothing there." Rick walked up behind her and started to gently caress the sides of her arms as he felt the tension in her body. He glanced at Ardeth and noticed the expression of extreme concern on his friend's face as he too stepped forward, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked out into the desert in the direction that Evie had pointed a shaking hand.
"I thought for a moment…" Her voice drifted off into nothing, and she leaned back into Rick's embrace.
Ardeth turned from his own scrutiny of the sands and stepped toward Evie, half reaching out to her. Rick glanced at him and he stopped as though caught doing something he should not. "What did you see?"
"I… I thought there was someone out there." Evie raised her hand again pointing out into the desert. "A… a… man… watching."
"Evelyn, if this is more visions," Rick started, still watching Ardeth for his reaction to his words, "Then I think maybe you've been out in the sun too long." Then he turned to Ardeth and snapped. "And you… I don't know what's going on, but I told Evie, and I'll tell you: We're here on vacation. We are not getting involved this time, so you can stop with your…"
"Then why are you out here?" Ardeth snapped, the irritation in his voice matching Rick's. "Why not simply refuse when it was first
mentioned in
"You're jealous!" Rick set Evie carefully on her feet to his side, aware that her mouth hung slightly open at the sudden antagonism between him and Ardeth, but ignoring it completely.
"No!"
"You are, you can't stand that I got married and you're still stuck out here defending a load of sand and stones and…"
"Do not!" Ardeth warned, his hand straying toward the hilt of his scimitar.
Rick stepped closer to Ardeth. "…long dead…"
"Stop it!" Evie pushed a hand again the chest of each other men. Rick almost pushed her hand away, but something in her touch calmed him, brought him to his senses and he blinked in confusion into the mirror of his own disorientation in Ardeth's eyes. "Stop it both of you!"
"Evie…" Rick started, wanting to tell her about the confusion in his head. Wanting to reassure her that everything was all right…
"No, I mean look at the two of you. What has got into you?"
With a deep breath, Ardeth nodded once to Rick. "I have work to do," he said, and started to turn away.
"Don't walk away from this!" Evie called after him, and then turned to Rick to fix him with a meaningful stare.
"Ardeth, wait!" He understood at once her silent appeal to him, and shared her desire to set things right with his friend, but the fact remained that under the rational knowledge that it was ridiculous – the near fight with Ardeth and over his wife – remained the bubbling of suspicion that had sparked his anger in the first place.
"Laa!" Ardeth called back. "I must help my men to gather the horses!"
Rick watched in growing unease as his friend walked off in denial with a group of his men, and his wife walked in the other direction to continue with her reading.
**
Rashid looked up as the young woman entered. He tried to school his face to a neutral expression, but what the Witch had told him, as she had him almost tossed into the small tent assaulted every sensibility within him.
"Leave it," he craved as she turned to close the door behind her.
"I thought you might like a little peace for a while," she answered, her voice gentle.
He lay back on the blanket and sighed. "Please leave the door. We will have peace enough." She shrugged and came toward him, the door still open, revealing the guards that had been placed. He shook his head slightly, "So even injured they fear the power of the Medjai." He thought.
He looked up again to regard the young woman, to try and see some clue as to the truth or otherwise – he prayed otherwise – of the Witch's words. She was small and lithe, her hair long and dark, reaching almost to the middle of her back. Her eyes, he remembered the kindness in those eyes, a rich expressive brown, there could be little doubt as to her origins to anyone with the sight to look and see the truth.
"Show me your arms," he said.
"I beg your pardon?" kneeling at his side with the bowl of water, the woman almost seemed to recoil at his words, and his heart knotted with fear.
"Please, your arms… show me your arms." Slowly she held out her hands to him. Equally as slowly he closed his fingers around her wrists and, closing his eyes, turned her hands palm up. When he opened his eyes he almost sobbed with relief to find her wrists unmarked and held her hands thankfully, until she pulled them away and he met her eyes and the discomfort in them. "Forgive me," he said. "Something the Witch Anck-Su-Namun said."
"What?" The girl's voice was fearful. "What did she say?"
"She suggested that I was breaking a long held law among my people in being with you. She lied." As if the relief stole his strength also, Rashid almost fell backwards.
"I need to see to your wounds," she said and reached hesitantly for the front of his robes. "I think you'll need to help me… I have no idea…" Leaning up again, Rashid reached for the knot in the side of the sash holding his outer robe closed, moving his arm made him grimace in pain, until the woman pushed his hands aside and went to work on the knot herself. "What… what's your name?"
"Rashid," he said. "And you?"
"Meirionnydd."
"Al salaam a'alaykum, Meirionnydd." His response was automatic, ingrained almost, and on the end of it he winced as she pushed the robe back off his shoulders and disturbed the wound on his arm.
"Sorry… sorry…" she winced herself, and in spite of himself, he chuckled.
"Do not worry," he said, "Though I still say you should have escaped when you had the chance…" He stopped as he saw her running her eyes over his now uncovered chest. "What is it?" he asked, wondering if he were as bruised as he felt.
"I'm sorry, I'm prying only…" She faltered.
"Go on?"
"Do all of the Medjai have these marks… these tattoos?"
"We are each of us marked upon swearing our oaths at manhood, though each is individual to the warrior that receives the marks." He frowned, puzzled. "Why? Have you seen another of us?"
"I…" Meirionnydd looked away from the symbols on his chest into the slight frown on his face. "You'll think me foolish."
"Tell me, that I may decide what I think of you." A look of embarrassment came over her face and to cover it, she picked up the cloth from the water bowl and began to carefully clean the knife wound in his arm. He gritted his teeth against the pain and fought back the nausea.
"Anton, the man that keeps me here, he makes me drink some kind of… potion, I suppose, to try and make me see things."
"Yes?" He prompted as impassively as he could through his own discomfort, watching the way she schooled her face into a neutral expression and concentrated on washing out the gore from his arm.
"Just as I was drifting into a vision one time, a man came into the tent and told Anton that the Medjai had stopped them from taking the tablet… the one that the woman, Meela or whatever she calls herself, is busy translating for him. And when I heard the word, I … I saw a man, like you… with the marks on his face, like lightening, cupped in the curve of a blade. Since then I've seen him again."
"Truly seen, or in a vision?" Rashid was very careful not to look at her face, so as not to interrupt what she was telling him – worried that whatever she might say would be important.
"More like in a dream… one of my nightmares actually." She picked up a piece of gauze and coated it with a brownish liquid. "It's like I can't stop the dreams since he made me drink that stuff. It frightens me."
"Tell me what you saw?"
"The head of a hawk… with wings over it…"
Rashid did his best to keep his face impassive. There was only one Medjai that wore that sacred mark, and until he knew more of the woman, however gentle and concerned and honourable she appeared to be, he would not give away the identity of his chieftain. Carefully he asked, "What happened to this man?"
"You know him?" she looked up at him then – and he met her eyes.
"It could be any one of a number of my brothers," he lied.
"Oh," she sounded disappointed and worried
He was about to change his mind… the concern he heard softening his attitude a little when she pressed the gauze to the wound. Searing heat penetrated his flesh and he hissed and pulled away, voicing vehement curses. "Merciful Allah, what IS that?" he demanded when he could once more catch his breath.
"Iodine," she answered. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you." She held up the gauze again and nodded toward his arm. With a deep breath he braced himself for the touch of the antiseptic and held himself still while she bandaged the gauze into place and then set about the other wounds on his body and face from the many beatings he had received.
**
Ardeth walked so quickly that the four men with him had to periodically break into a trot to keep up with him. All he knew was that he needed to put as much distance between him and O'Connell as possible while he calmed down, before he said or did something to upset their friendship still further. He knew full well he had overstepped the line by more than a little, but felt that to some degree, what he had said to his friend had been justified, but what bothered him most of all was that O'Connell had been right too.
Jealousy.
It was not an emotion that he was used to dealing with, at least not in himself. Always before, he had been content with his life. He had been so busy ensuring that Hamunaptra stayed undisturbed and Imhotep remained buried that he'd had little time to consider the things that he didn't have in his life.
Perhaps then this feeling came about, as had his disquiet and melancholy, no not melancholy, what was the word that Evelyn had used…? introspection… since the fall of Hamunaptra, Imhotep's entombment at Ahm Shere and the fall of the Scorpion King. Or perhaps it was the way in which the desert was once again speaking to his heart, as if some unseen force were guiding his path… and were showing him a new destiny.
But jealous? That he had no wife to love and protect, no son to whom he could teach the ways of his people and to whom he could bequeath leadership of the Medjai…?
He stopped walking so suddenly that the man behind him almost collided with him.
"My chief?"
"What do you think of Faridah?" he asked absently, his mind still grappling with the second thought of his own mortality in as many days. "Do you think I should marry?"
"Marry Faridah?" His companions seemed taken aback.
"Why not?" Ardeth turned his gaze upward from the sand at his feet to look into the eyes of the man beside him. "She is attractive, well connected; her sisters have all born many, many fine sons to our warrior brothers…" It sounded hollow even to his own ears and he began to wonder who he was trying to convince.
"She bores you; her brothers would use her marriage to advance their position and gain your ear; she has more concern for herself than any…"
"Sawsan then?" Ardeth frowned in irritation – knowing in his heart that the counsel of his trusted warriors, the men who knew him best of all, was right.
"You would not stay longer than three days with that simpering child before you rode for the nearest ally's harem." One of his men clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling slightly, much to Ardeth's discomfort. He sighed and tried his best to cast of the dour mood that was settling further onto his shoulders.
"You should not take things so to heart," said the oldest of the four of his companions. "If this is the result of your meeting with the Usertim woman then I say that the thousands of years we have been forbidden to be near them have been the right course to follow."
"I wonder…" Ardeth mused, but was forced to abandon the subject as a cloud of sand heralded the arrival of another of his men, one he had sent out earlier in search of their mounts. He led many of the horses with him.
"Well done, Hassan." He greeted the newcomer before, as had the others, retrieving his own stallion. "The others?"
"A little further to the west, but peaceful enough."
"Take Emir and Nasim with you to retrieve them. We will break camp and begin the journey to Hamunaptra." As if he had reached a decision he grabbed the saddle horn and swung himself up into the saddle, then he tugged on the reins to turn the horse around. "We can afford no further delay."
**
So he DID have
power. A subtle satisfied smile appeared
on what would have been his face, if he had a solid form, and was not a thing
of light and spirit… The amusement
lasted only a moment before the pulling he felt reminded him once more that
there was somewhere he wanted to be, and that memory brought others.
They had been there
then… these two, with whom he now toyed. She had risked everything that she was to save the life of her love. They had watched him betrayed, holding fast
to each other amid the chaos – not fighting, as they were now, over the
insidious whispers he had breathed into the minds of the men.
**
They moved around him as the organised team that they were, shaking sand from the bedrolls and removing all traces that they were ever there at all. It was a drill they learned from young men and like everything else they did, there were no half measures. The normalcy of it helped to steady Ardeth's mind as he crossed to where O'Connell had followed the Medjai's lead and was packing away his and Evelyn's things. Evelyn stood a little away from her husband and he noted the dejected droop of her shoulders and then the tense way O'Connell moved, glancing often at his wife.
Pulling himself up straight, he made a decision. He would not be the cause of his friends' unhappiness. As he reached the space where his friend was shaking out the sand from the canvass of his tent, and struggling slightly to fold it away, Ardeth leaned down to help.
"I can manage." O'Connell growled.
"I have no doubt of it," he answered, "I just thought you might appreciate the help of a friend, not that you needed it."
Both men sighed, and stopped what they were doing, facing each other across the canvass divide. "Ardeth, look…"
Ardeth held up his hand and interrupted. "I was at fault, O'Connell. I had no right to speak to you as I did. And you were right… I am," he faltered, "jealous, though not in the way you believe."
"But I don't even know why I said that." O'Connell shifted awkwardly back a step or two as he fixed him with a searching look. "It was like one minute I was fine and then next I had that crazy notion inside my head…"
"One last thing I will say, my friend," Ardeth glanced around him for a moment, as if weighing the truth of his words. "Something is coming that is unsettling everything I have ever believed, that I have known, even the desert itself is not at rest and each of us needs be on our guard or we will be swept along on the winds of something that I believe to be destructive. We have shared much, Rick O'Connell, and I consider you as one of my most trusted friends – a brother. I pray Allah will help us both remember that."
He saw O'Connell nod and knew that he had heard both the things that he had said, and those things to which his words had alluded. He was about to continue with the job of helping to pack away the O'Connell's things when something small, but insistent grabbed him – literally – around the chest. It took him a moment to realise that it was Evelyn, who had wrapped him in a tight, almost desperate hug. Awkwardly he accepted the hug for a moment then glanced questioningly at his friend. O'Connell shrugged, and then, proving to Ardeth more than anything he could have said that he harboured no ill feelings toward him he turned and continued to pick up his scattered equipment, leaving Ardeth to deal with Evelyn.
"Promise me you won't ever fight like that again," she said to his chest.
He carefully extricated his arms from her limpet like grasp, and gently moved her away to arms length. "You too must guard against this strangeness, Evelyn," he said quietly, his eyes flickered momentarily down to the front of her blouse, beneath which he knew the bell was hidden. "Perhaps you did not understand what I said last night – that I will do all that I can to fulfil my promise to the Usertim and keep that bell safe."
"Not good enough!" Evelyn answered, and he blinked at her in surprise. "I won't have you fighting with Rick like that. I need you to promise me that it won't happen again."
Ardeth sighed and closed his eyes. Could he give her that assurance or would it be a lie? How could he without knowing what dangers lay in their path or the effect it might have on them all? "I will try." He said at last and moved past her to go and inform O'Connell of the rest of his plans.
**
Nestled, half dozing, between his three obedient women, Jamaal smiled – sated. As the leader of his tribe, he enjoyed many luxuries and for perhaps the thousandth time since he had assumed leadership of his Tuareg tribe, he sent thanks to his God for his good fortune.
But how long will it last…?
His eyes flickered open as the voice breathed itself into his ears – perhaps into his mind for all he knew… languidly he reached out for the breast of one of the women and attempted to soothe himself in reminding himself of all he possessed.
Send the women away…
you have no need of them now.
Images began to float past his soporific mind… gold glittered in the morning sun as it piled around his feet, beautiful, scantily clad girls danced for his amusement and… performed other duties for him in great delight at his pleasure.
Send them away
Sleepily Jamaal obeyed, rousing the women and sending them from his company into the harsh morning sun, clutching their robes around them since he did not even give them time to dress.
Good… The voice seduced …and I will show you how you might gain all those things I have shown you… all you need do is follow my command, attack one small camp and take one small woman to your side…
Jamaal listened as the spirit of the desert itself it seemed
whispered sweet promises of wealth into his mind – showed him how he might
become the greatest leader of the Tuareg even known. Quickly he went to rouse his men – they had
quite a ride ahead of them.
**
Shielding his eyes against the brightness of the sun, Ardeth squinted into the distance to the dark speck he could see and held up his hand, uttering one word of command. Behind him, his small band of Warriors came to a halt almost as one being.
"What is it?" O'Connell manoeuvred his horse along side Ardeth.
"I am not sure," Ardeth said, but his senses were screaming at him of the importance of that small speck. He turned to a couple of his men and said quietly. "Go for me and discover the truth of what it is. Be careful."
Nodding to their leader the two men rode at a comfortable pace toward the speck in the distance.
"What are we going to do?" Evelyn joined Rick and Ardeth at the front of the group.
"We will take this opportunity to rest the horses, and ourselves," Ardeth answered, and pulled down the covering from his face so that his friends could see his uneasy smile. Already the other Medjai were dismounting, and loosening girth straps on their saddles to allow the horses respite from that tightness around their ribs.
He watched as O'Connell helped Evelyn down from her horse, worrying about his friends, worrying whether he had done the right thing in giving Evelyn the bell to carry – and worrying still further why he had not thought it right to tell O'Connell that she carried it. He sighed, and ran a frustrated hand over his neatly trimmed beard. "Never so unbalanced as this," he whispered under his breath. "If you tell me something is coming but not what it is, how may I be properly prepared?" He retrieved his water and took several small sips of the warmed fluid. He needed to rest, properly rest, not the fitful sleep his nights had been of late… troubled by images that were not quite dreams.
Shouts from his men returning pulled him from his contemplation and he saw that they were leading a grey gelding that bore the unmistakeable tack of the Medjai. He walked quickly to the horse and checked for the identifying brand.
"This was Asim's horse," he said as O'Connell came to his side.
"One of yours?"
He spent some time explaining to his friend what had
transpired before they met, and that he had set two of his men to chase off the
men and then stay to guard the tablet. "But if his horse is wandering then something may have happened," he
finished. "I would like you to come with
me my friend, but," he paused, "I feel that Evelyn would be safer back in
"She won't like that," O'Connell warned, but the look in his eyes told Ardeth that his friend was, for once, in total agreement with him.
"I will send some of my men with her to keep her safe," he assured him then walked at his friend's side to where Evelyn was already eyeing them both with suspicion.
"No!" she told them as they reached her side.
"Evie…" O'Connell began in a gentle tone. "It really would be better if you were there
in
"This is your doing!" Evelyn snapped at Ardeth, moving closer to him, moving right inside his personal space. "Sending me away."
"Yes," he said simply, not in the mood to argue and
particularly not with a woman, not even Evelyn. "I take full responsibility for insisting on your return to
"You wouldn't dare!" she snarled.
"Do not be so foolish as to test me," he fixed her with an uncompromising stare.
"Rick…!" she half turned away and appealed with her husband. Ardeth only hoped that O'Connell would back him up, and would not take offence at his being so harsh with his wife.
"Honey, we don't know what we're up against." O'Connell answered, "And until we do I'm with
Ardeth on this one. You'd be better in
"Oh," she growled, "I might have known you two would…"
"That's my girl," O'Connell moved forward and gave her a hug, but she pushed him away in irritation.
"All right," she huffed, "I'll go to
Turning to address three of his men he said, "Go with the woman. Guard her as though she carries my life in her body!" The men got to their feet, looking in puzzled uncertainty between their leader and the Evelyn who was even now mounting her horse. Quickly their readied their horses and mounted. One of them reached for the reins of her horse, and she was forced to cling to the horse's neck as they galloped quickly away.
**
"That was a bit harsh," Rick said as he turned away from watching them disappear into the distance.
"Perhaps," Ardeth agreed. "But I have neither the time nor the energy to argue with your wife. However capable she is, I will not endanger her life with something as unknown as this."
Rick nodded, remembering very clearly the pain of when he had lost her, even for a moment and wanting never to have to feel that again. "Would you really have done what you threatened?" he asked the Medjai.
"Make no mistake, O'Connell, when I give my word, I keep it," he answered seriously. "Even if you would have tried to stop me."
Rick watched as Ardeth set about preparing his horse for the journey ahead, unsure quite how he felt about what he had just said, and wondering what it was he had told his men to provoke such a reaction from them. The words of his question came out before he could stop them. "What did you say to the warriors you sent with her?"
Ardeth, now mounted, turned in the saddle to fix him with a serious look. "I said they should guard her as the wife of a Medjai and not as a mere woman." He held Rick's gaze for a moment longer, almost as though daring him to challenge what he'd said before turning forward once more. "Yallah!" He called to his men, who at once leaped into the saddle, "Nimshe!"
Certain he was not getting the whole story, but not having time to worry about it Rick mounted his own horse and set off after the swift warriors.
**
The man was almost foaming at the mouth by the time he got back to the camp. He stumbled from his horse weakly calling for Anton until one of the others caught him by the arms and almost bodily carried him there.
"Medjai… the Medjai…!" he stuttered, and released from the support of his companions stumbled to his knees.
"What about the wretched Medjai!" Anton snapped, glancing at the man, but then turning his attention to Anck-Su-Namun who came walking over toward them, distracted from her job of translating the tablet.
"They… they have returned." The answer came weakly from the ground at his feet. "They will find their murdered companion and come after us…"
"Oh for heaven sake man, get up!" Anton detested that his underlings were so afraid of that ancient race of warriors. They should have the strength of hatred for them as he had. "They're just men, not demons… not supernatural beings… men! And if they come, we will be ready for them."
"Do not be so sure," Anck-Su-Namun's accented voice purred in Anton's ear as she circled round him, trailing one blackened fingernail down his cheek. "The Medjai have endured for thousands of years against all the odds. They have power."
"Don't you start!" Anton spat in irritation.
"Oh no, my dear Anton, have no fear… I haven't started yet." She leaned against him, her mouth beside his ear as she whispered, "But believe me, when I do, they will pay for all they have done." She rubbed herself against him, much as a cat to his master and Anton found himself becoming lost in her intoxicating presence. "Bring the bell, and meet me in the girl's tent at sundown. Then I'll start – and I promise I won't stop until every one of those miserable bastards is cursed and in the ground."
**
Frustrated by the need for caution when he could clearly see one of his men lying on the ground, stained brown around him, Ardeth signalled to his five remaining men to separate and search the area. The canyon was a perfect bottle neck for killing, and he couldn't risk that there might be snipers up in the rocks. He waited a moment before making a cautious approach, with O'Connell at his side, each man covering the other.
Eventually they got to the fallen man's side and he crouched down to see if the man was alive. As he gently pulled down the covering from the man's face he stirred and opened his eyes.
"Asim," he said gently, and pressed against the man's shoulder when he tried to sit up. "Try not to move."
"Rashid…" Asim gasped. Ardeth shook his head. "He must have followed them."
"Do not worry about Rashid. We will find him," he answered, and started to carefully examine his fallen companion. It very quickly became evident that it was a miracle even now that the man was still alive. Sorrow flooded Ardeth's heart, Asim was a good man… another good man he was about to lose. "You have done well. You were always one of my bravest and best warriors," he said quietly to Asim, though also clearly as though expecting others to hear.
Asim looked up at him, understanding entering his eye and he nodded, holding back his moan of pain and accepting Ardeth's embrace as his breathing grew more and more laboured.
"It is time, Asim," Ardeth's voice was quiet and gentle as he took the man into a brotherly embrace, knowing that there was no was he could be healed, and understanding the pain he must be suffering. He listened while Asim uttered his final words. "Sleep now, my brother," he said, and swiftly, cleanly snapped the dying man's neck.
He stayed very still for a moment, breathing deeply and then laid the fallen Medjai back onto the earth and closed Asim's eyes. As the others returned, he stood and turned to face them. "Truly, to Allah we belong and truly, to Him we shall return," he said quietly. His words were echoed to a man.
"What now?" O'Connell asked after he had moved away from the body of his fallen warrior.
"Two of my men will return with his body to our settlement,
so that he can be given a decent burial," he answered, "And we must return to
"There is something inside." The man gestured to a darkened hole, twice the size of a man's hand, left uncovered by the missing slab of rock.
"How could they have missed that?" O'Connell asked incredulously.
"Perhaps they were only told to retrieve the carving," he answered and glanced at O'Connell. Both men looked at the darker shape inside and Ardeth couldn't help wondering just how safe it would be to recover the item. Either way he was not about to put his arm into a hole that could be inhabited by snakes or scorpions, or other poisonous creatures. Instructing the others to stand back, he drew his scimitar and gingerly used it as a tool, inserting it behind the object to scrape it forward…
**
Jonathan put down his tools and wiped the back of his hand over his forehead, breathing hard. Something wasn't right. Something about the shape of the place assaulted his every sense as the Egyptologist he fancied himself.
They had spent the better part of the day clearing away the rubble from what was a fairly unremarkable small shrine, apparently to the god Osiris, but the outer dimensions of the rock into which it was set were much larger than the inner ones. Of course it could just be that the ancient Egyptians got fed up with chiselling out the shrine from the hard rock that formed it, (he was certainly fed up with digging out the fallen hard rock to uncover the shrine itself), but he had a feeling… and his feelings were very seldom wrong.
He glanced around the walls flickering in the torchlight and made out the legend of Osiris being raised from the dead in order that his loving wife could have their child, Horus, who would then save everyone else from the evil tyranny that was incarnate in his jealous brother Set. He snorted at the irony of it… even way back then they were worrying about saving the world from evil. "Does nothing ever change around here?" he asked aloud, startled at the sound of his own voice among the otherwise regular tick, tick, tick, of picks on stone.
Not watching where he was going, he half tripped and stubbed his toe on a large piece of rock beside one of the uncovered walls. He swore and then sat on the rock to pull off his boot and cradle his injured toe in his hands, and then he noticed that where the rock had pressed against the wall, a piece of the marble had broken away, and behind was a darker space… like a hole.
His injured foot quickly forgotten, he pulled on his boot and stood up to start heaving against the stone. When it refused to yield, he took up his pick and set about swinging it with all his might against the lump of rock that was in his way. There was nothing like the strength of a man kept from the potential of treasure by a lump of rock and before very long at all he was able to heave aside enough of the stone that the broken section of marble fell away to the floor, to indeed reveal a cavity in the stone.
He grabbed a torch from the wall and knelt down, trying hard to see into the dark space. He could make out that there was something inside, but not what. "Oh god, why is nothing ever easy!" he said, and gingerly reached out a hand. He pulled it back quickly when he heard a scuttling sound, thinking of all the kinds of insects it could be, and settling on one particularly unpleasant memory, of being held by a particularly strong Medjai while his brother in law dug the scarab out from under his skin with a horribly sharp knife. He shuddered, but lured by the promise of what might be hidden in such a hole as that, reached out again… carefully putting the tips of his fingers inside the hole. He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut tightly expecting the pain any moment of fangs or stinger as it plunged into his hand. After several heart-stopping moments of waiting nothing had happened so he pressed his hand further into the hole and encountered the object with his fingertips.
It was smooth, and cold, but felt like it had many indentations. His heart raced… it could be gold, something made of gold or precious jewels. Well that would certainly make up for the humiliation of having to work off this debt. He closed his fingers around the object and began to withdraw it.
Pain blossomed through his finger and with a cry he fell back, though not letting go of his prize, pulling his hand from the hole. Terrified he dropped the object into his lap and grabbed his hand in the other, moaning a low almost girly scream and examining the wound either side of his hand. His heart raced as he saw the blood, and he thought he would probably pass out any second… but something made him stop and look again, this time properly. They were cuts, not bites or puncture wounds. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wound it up a little, before tossing it into the whole, his precious prize momentarily forgotten in the wake of self preservation. He kept hold of one end and slowly pulled it out again, hearing it tear on something inside the whole. "Well I'll be…" he said, and then once more reached his hand into the hole, this time carefully feeling for whatever it was that had cut him.
Two blades, cleverly embedded at an angle that allowed a hand to be inserted without harm, but would slice along the flesh as it was withdrawn… like the principle of the barb on a hunting knife, or arrow. "Well whatever it is, it must be important to be protected like that," he mused and once more turned his attention to the object he's pulled from the hole, absently tying the ripped handkerchief around his bloodied hand.
It looked like one of those charms that Ardeth and his lot wore around their necks – though it was made of gold unlike their own – and it was thicker too, and covered in hieroglyphics. He found a small switch on the bottom of it, and holding it gingerly, pressed the switch.
More pain stabbed into his palm, and he dropped the object, examining the star shaped cut that suddenly appeared on his hand. As he looked beyond his hand to the golden object on the ground he saw the pattern mirrored by small blade like protuberances that had sprung from the back of it. "That looks like a key," he said to himself as he picked up the object. "Or at least part of one," he added, as he looked at the front of the object and saw the depression in front in line with the barbs on the back.
He found and pressed the button again, closing the key into the charm like object, meaning to start to read the hieroglyphics that might give him a clue, but was forced to pocket the object as he heard the voice of his "boss" coming into the chamber.
"Look as though you've been in the wars,"
"What?" he asked innocently, then realising that
"Well we're about to call it a day if you want to come join us. One more day and I'd say we were all square."
"Oh right. Yes. Thank you I'll be out in a minute. Just got to…" he took up the pick and pointed it at what was left of the rock. "… to erm… finish up this little bit. Can't stand to leave a job half finished."
"Oh erm… I don't think so…" Jonathan said, pressing his arm against the pocket into which he had slipped the key. "I should be getting back to my sister as soon as I can – she'll be worrying about me."
"Whatever you say,"
**
It fell to the sand covered rock with a dull thud, a narrow cylinder, covered with hieratic carvings, and topped with stylised sparrow-hawks facing either direction, their feathers made of teardrop jewels in Lapis Lazuli and Jade. It reminded Rick of the handle of a cork-screw. He caught Ardeth's eye, and saw the Medjai shrug, and then lean down, scimitar still in hand to pick up the small object.
As soon as the flesh of his fingers closed around it, the scuttling of chitinous feet could be heard mere seconds before thousands of black shapes swarmed from the hole. Rick barely had time to shout a warning to Ardeth before the spiders, for such they were, all massed in one spot and started climbing on one another and building a shape… the shape of a towering man-like creature, hawk headed and armed with a wicked looking blade – made also of living spiders.
"Get out of here, go!" Ardeth shouted to Rick, drawing his second blade from his belt. Rick refused to move, pulling pistols from his belt and firing into the massing spiders. But as fast as he could blast them from their place they climbed back into it, and soon he and Ardeth were trapped in their place by the fearsome creature.
The rest of the Medjai started to the aid of their chief, knowing they could not use their rifles for fear of hitting Ardeth they each drew their own scimitars.
"Laa," Ardeth snapped off at them, and something else that
Rick didn't recognise or understand. "Ibqa
huna!" He'd heard Ardeth say no enough times – often to him or Evie that he
understood that word at once, but the others… The Medjai Company halted, but did not put up their weapons. "Hafud ala sadiqi min ay khatar!"
The creature came forward swinging it's blade for Rick's head, Rick ducked, and Ardeth swung his scimitar up in an arc to catch the downward swing. "I said go!" he yelled at Rick. "You are unarmed. Your guns are no use against the creature," and all the time both arms worked in controlled, well practiced swings, keeping the creature's weapon at bay and giving Rick an avenue of escape as he slowly had the monster giving ground. Rick had no choice. He rolled aside and instantly found himself pulled to safety by one of the other Medjai.
**
Ardeth dodged to the side as a particularly hard swift strike punched through his guard and sliced his shoulder, though not as badly as it would have done. He replied with a rapid attack low on the creature's body, trying to force the strikes down, where he could better cope with parrying them, but the creature must have sensed what he was trying to do, and circling around his guard came in high, a descending blow that had only one defence.
With all the strength he could muster, he brought his blade up, both of them crossed to catch the heavy descending blow. His arms ached as the shock travelled through them and he thought his shoulders would pop from the sockets as he strained to hold back the blade, hoping that the creature had no other weapon or mode of attack.
A black clawed hand came in under his raised arms and grabbed him by the front of the robe, pulling him off balance, breaking his strength and letting the creature's sword through to come to rest against his neck. Caught between the creature, the rock and the blade there was nothing he could do.
"Ardeth!" he heard O'Connell cry out for him, but did not fear for his friend. He knew him men would keep him from doing anything foolish. Accepting of his fate, he closed his eyes and whispered prayers to Allah and waited for the bite of the blade… holding his breath.
Nothing happened.
Slowly, one at a time, he opened his eyes to find the creature looking down at him. Where it had grabbed his robe it had torn to reveal one of the marks on his chest and the creature was leaning nearer to examine it more closely. Ardeth froze, fighting the urge to shudder as the creature's skin seemed to undulate with the movement of the many small spiders that made up its body.
"Medjai!" The creature screamed and then exploded in a shower of black legs and bodies. Everyone standing close enough was showered by the crawling creatures and all of them shook themselves vigorously to rid themselves of the creeping arachnids.
"You know," O'Connell came up and knocked one of the spiders that Ardeth had missed off the shoulder of his robes as the not-quite-so-composed Medjai stomped on a few more spiders running across the sandy floor at his feet. "This would be all be so much easier if all of the nasties that we met had that kind or reaction to you guys."
With a sour look, and shaking himself one last time, Ardeth leaned down to once more pick up the object that had begun it all. Everyone tensed, but this time nothing happened. Ardeth held the object out to O'Connell as his friend peered over the top of his arm to look at the markings around the barrel of the thing. "Hieratic," he said.
"We should take that back to Evie," his friend said
cautiously. "She can translate that, and
it may give us some answers."
