First, a quick author's note regarding the contents of this chapter. In
recent months, I've learned that archaeologists are saying now that Rameses
II was not the pharaoh mentioned in the Exodus. That assumption was made
because of certain stelae, but if you'll notice, the name of said pharaoh
was never mentioned in Exodus.
The reason I bring this up, is because both Imhotep and Rick make reference to Moses in the chapter. Given the way I write Rameses, I also wanted to provide an explanation for his behavior.
Reviews:
Mommints: (beams happily) Good. . .if you're utterly comfortably with the mixing of the two movies, then it means I've been doing my job properly as a storyteller. I must admit, however, that some of the antiquated language comes not just from watching the three LOTR movies, but reading the ancient Greek myths, especially the Iliad and the Odyssey over the last several weeks. I know, I was evil by making Ardeth laugh when he was hurt so badly, but Gandalf's sense of humor is hard to resist. I thank you for the compliment, especially since I've loved all of your stories.
Terreis: No, Celia wouldn't go ballistic on Rick in this situation. Especially not when he was doing such a good job of blaming himself in the first place. No forgiveness required, since Celia DOES have something of a temper, and it is usually Rick who triggers that temper. Just not this time. While I don't know how Tolkien (or Peter Jackson) deals with Saruman, I have my own ideas of what Ardeth will do when confronted with the being responsible for his unexpected trip to ME.
Kitrazzle Fayn: Why, thank you, dear! (smiles) I'm so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter. And Gimli was a favorite of mine in the movies. . .sort of a gruff, fiery, tough warrior with a soft heart he tried very hard to disguise. My next-door neighbor is a lot like Gimli in terms of attitude.
Aria-hannah: Thanks, hon! Oh my, you found 'A Most Bizarre Ritual,' on Ruse's site? I've been trying to reformat that, to post it here, but the diskette is corrupted. I'm glad you enjoyed it though. . .it was a lot of fun to write, and I'm actually mulling over a sequel, in which Ardeth and Imhotep play a prank on Rick.
Deana: Sorry it took longer than I was anticipating to post this. I kept forgetting some crucial dialogue for the confrontation in Theoden's Hall. I finally had to watch the scene two or three times, to make I was reasonably close. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.
Sailor Elf: I love your reviews. They are so entertaining! I get the image of you bouncing up and down at your computer, and that always makes me smile.
Okay, now on with the story!
Part Six
Ardeth slowly relaxed against Aragorn as they drew closer to Edoras. The ranger could feel it in the way their new companion slumped in the saddle, and knew how tired Ardeth was. But he also appreciated the chieftain's attempt to spare his strength as long as possible. As they approached the outskirts of the city, Gandalf once more repeated his warning about their reception in the city.
To which Gimli replied, "You would find more cheer in a graveyard!" Looking at the tired, worn faces of the people who inhabited Edoras, Aragorn could hardly argue. Most could not, or would not, meet the eyes of the remaining Fellowship. However, Aragorn did notice more than a few stares in Ardeth's direction. Ardeth noticed as well and he stiffened slightly. But that was the only indication that he noticed.
Aragorn at last looked away from the faces of the Edoras subjects, his eye caught by a motion. The pennant of the Horse-Lords torn from its rightful place, an omen if ever Aragorn saw one. At the same time, he noticed a young woman gazing down at them. He could not see her features clearly, but he could see that she had long blonde hair that whipped about her face. He looked away briefly. . .and when he looked back once more, she was gone.
Her appearance and disappearance served to make Aragorn that much more uneasy about this city. Ardeth murmured, "Gimli speaks far too truly. My people have been described as grim, and sometimes harsh, for it is a harsh life that we even now live. But never have they been described as beaten. That is what I see in the faces of these people. How long has their king been under the sway of this Saruman?"
"Too long," was all Gandalf would say. Disquieted by this observation, Aragorn urged his horse forward. Gandalf led them inside the stables, slipping down from Shadowfax and leading the horse into a stall. Knowing there would be no room for both he and Ardeth to dismount inside the stall, Aragorn dismounted first, then helped their ally down as well. Ardeth was a little shaky on his feet, but there was a grim determination burning in his dark eyes.
It was that determination which allowed Aragorn to release his hold on the younger man as Legolas and Gimli dismounted. The dwarf's suspicion of their ally hadn't escaped Aragorn's notice. And he couldn't blame Gimli for trying to protect them. That was simply part of what and whom Gimli, son of Gloin, was. Thus, he was pleased, and more than a little proud, when the dwarf abandoned his usual bluster and simply stood quietly at Ardeth's side, allowing the chieftain to lean against him if it became necessary.
"There are two parts to our ruse," Gandalf explained as he reached over to steady Ardeth. Aragorn and Legolas listened intently as they rubbed down the three horses. The wizard continued, "They will want us to turn over our weapons, and we shall. However, this is where the deception comes into play. I shall keep my staff, because it is, after all, a walking stick, and I am a very old man."
There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he said this. Aragorn suppressed a smile and returned his attention to his work. But not before he exchanged a glance with Legolas, who looked just as amused as he felt. The wizard went on, "In addition, I will be leaning on Legolas, who is young and strong, as well as agile. Aragorn will be supporting Ardeth's weight. Ardeth, lad, you will need to give them that fearsome-looking sword. When I cast out Saruman from Theoden, it will be returned to you."
"I fear I am incapable of using it properly at the moment," came Ardeth's weary answer. There was a tired humor in there, but Ardeth continued, "I will do everything I can to aid you, Gandalf. Even without my scimitar, and even wounded, I can still fight." Aragorn finished what he was doing and walked over to the intense young man. Intense, yes . . .that was a good word for this man who seemed far older than his years.
Gandalf smiled and put his hand on the young man's shoulder, answering, "I know, lad. But there is a time to use that sword, a time to use your head, a time to use deception, and a time to use magic. The trick is learning when to use what weapon, and to what degree. Right now, the best weapon you have is your still-returning strength. Do not push your body to its limits yet, Ardeth Bey, there will be time enough for that later. Entirely too much time, I fear."
"To everything there is a season, and a purpose under heaven," Ardeth answered as Aragorn returned to his side. The denizens of Middle Earth looked at him, Aragorn's own surprise reflecting on the faces of the others, and the chieftain explained, "In one of the Great Books of our time, a Great Book that was written over several centuries in the region where I was born and grew up, there is a book called 'Ecclesiastics.' My wife quotes from it sometimes when she wishes to prove a point." He paused, then added with a wry grin, "It is also part of a song that was popular around the time I was born."
"Do you miss your wife less when you speak of her, Ardeth?" Legolas asked as the five moved slowly toward the castle. Aragorn's best friend continued, his curiosity reflected in his eyes, "I have never taken a wife and have little experience with such things. I am curious. Does it ease the pain of being parted from your time and your world to speak of her? I would think that it would hurt more, since she is not here with you."
"But when I speak of her, Legolas, Celia *is* here. She is in my heart, she is at my side. On our wedding day, we exchanged gifts. Her gift to me was this cloak I now wear. So long as I keep it close to me, I am never truly without her. When I return home after being away, she adds some of her favorite scent to the fabric. Not a great deal. Not enough to draw the attention of my warriors. Just enough so that her scent is there even when she is not. I am never without her. . .never," Ardeth answered.
Aragorn wanted to close his eyes, wanted to close his ears to shut out Ardeth's words, because they struck at the very heart of him. He carried Arwen with him, no matter where he was. She was always there. He clenched his jaw. By the Valar, he wished she was with him now! He wished he could see her face, hear her voice, feel her touch. He missed her.
They had a job to do. He knew that. But Aragorn was only a man, and he struggled mightily with this task that was laid out before him. The One Ring no longer tempted him. But there were temptations in life, aside from power. The temptation to turn away, though you knew in your heart that you were doing the right thing. The temptation to turn away, because the path was growing dark and frightful, and you weren't sure if you had the strength to go on.
As they began the walk up the steps leading to the castle, Ardeth Bey turned his head and looked straight at Aragorn. There was no judgment there, only compassion and wisdom. Ardeth knew what he was thinking. And he, Aragorn, who was supposed to be lending the wounded warrior his strength. . .was receiving some of Ardeth's own quiet strength. The self- exiled king bowed his head to his new ally in respect and thanks.
There was no time for words, because as they reached the top step and came face to face with the guards, the ruse went into effect. Aragorn mentally prepared himself for what was to come, and bit back a smile as the reassuring squeeze of the forearm he received from Ardeth. Gandalf already beat Saruman twice. There was no reason he couldn't do it a third time.
. . .
As Gandalf predicted, the captain of the guards did indeed take their weapons. However, Legolas also noted the distaste on the man's face as he mentioned Grima Wormtongue's name. The elf could hardly blame him for that.
Just the name was enough to make one grimace. And based on the exchange they had with the Rohirrim whilst searching for Merry and Pippin, it seemed that the man lived up to his name. It was he who, no doubt, gave Saruman access to Theoden King. The elf prince kept his thoughts to himself, as Gandalf told them upon reaching the city, and instead played his own role. The young and strong elf whose steady arm was necessary to the more frail Gandalf.
Frail, hah! As Gandalf protested with an appealing expression, "Surely you would not deprive an old man of his walking stick," it was all Legolas could do to keep a straight face. Gandalf was several thousand years older than he was, but that made him in no way frail. Something the captain of the guard probably knew. . .but the man allowed him to keep his staff nonetheless. And fortunately for Legolas, he had almost three thousand years worth of experience to call upon to keep his face neutral.
And instead, he focused on turning over his weapons. As Gandalf predicted, even Ardeth had to turn over his sword. Gimli turned over his axe amid much grumbling, while Aragorn turned over his own sword and knives, each motion deliberate, all the while staring into the eyes of the guards. Several of them looked ill at ease, and Legolas took heart. These, at least, would not stop them from doing what had to be done.
With the weapons confiscated, the guards stepped to one side. From the corner of his eye, Legolas noticed Gandalf wink at Aragorn. Estel was suppressing a smile, and Legolas followed his friend's example. As they moved past the guards, Gandalf seemed to lean against Legolas, and there was no pretense in Ardeth's need for Aragorn's support as they were allowed inside the Hall.
The interior made Legolas shudder. There was evil here, he could *feel* it. As an elf, he had more sensitive senses than most humans. And the source of the evil was. . . there. With the keen hearing of all elves, the prince of Mirkwood heard that evil man say in a very low voice, "My lord, Gandalf the Grey is coming." Almost as soon as the words were spoken, the doors closed behind them, and there was the very distinctive sound of those doors locking.
Ignoring the crouched figure, obviously Grima Wormtongue, Gandalf said, his voice betraying naught but confidence and strength, "The courtesy of your Hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King." From the corner of his eye, Legolas noticed a small group of men walking parallel to the five. A quick glance back to Aragorn told him that his friend noticed, as did Gimli and Ardeth. They would be trouble. Fortunately, the remaining members of the Fellowship were prepared for this eventuality.
Just as they were prepared for Wormtongue to murmur to the king, "He is not welcome." Legolas grimaced. No wonder the people of this city, of this nation, were so bereft of hope. No wonder the Rohirrim told them that hope abandoned Rohan. Much made sense. And still, those men watched. Men loyal to Wormtongue, without a doubt. Mercenaries, perhaps, and therefore loyal to no one. There was that possibility as well. Legolas mentally counted the number of attackers. No more than four or five. It would be a simple matter for them to take Wormtongue's men, even if there was just three of them, instead of four.
The king mumbled, obviously under Wormtongue's control, "Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" A quick glance at his companions told Legolas that Ardeth was frowning, though he maintained his pose of being unable to fight. Good. That was very good. The men preparing now to attack would get a very nasty surprise when the seemingly-weak warrior fought back.
For now, however, Legolas kept his eyes on the Istari and the king. Wormtongue answered in a fawning tone, "A just question, my liege." He rose to his feet, glaring at the entire party, and continued, "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear; Lathespell I name you, ill news is an ill guest!" Conjurer? Legolas heard Gandalf called many things, some of which should not be repeated in mixed company, but that was a new term.
And Gandalf was not of a mind to put up with Wormtongue, in any manner. He snapped, "Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth! I did not pass through fire and death to bandy words with a witless worm!" For the first time, Saruman's spy noticed the staff in Gandalf's free hand.
His eyes widened and he swung to face the captain of the guard, exclaiming, "His staff! I *told* you to take the wizard's staff!" It seemed that those words were a signal of some kind, for the men whom Legolas noticed chose to attack then. Gandalf released his grip on Legolas, allowing the young elf to slip away. Within moments, each of the five was engaged, including Ardeth. Gandalf continued his attempt to free Theoden.
One by one, each of the five took out a man. Legolas was on his way to rejoin Gandalf when he heard footsteps behind him. Without even looking behind him, Legolas raised his arm from his side and hit his would-be attacker. He didn't look when he struck. Nor did he look when he heard the other man hit the ground. His attention was on the drama unfolding. Gimli had Wormtongue on the ground, his foot on the spy's chest, and the dwarf growled in a menacing voice, "I would stay still, if I were you!"
A quick look told Legolas that both Aragorn and Ardeth were fine, though a fine film of sweat covered Ardeth's face. The two men joined the elf as Theoden began to laugh. Not Theoden. It was not Theoden. It was Saruman. At last, still wheezing, the wizard told them defiantly, "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" There was more laughter, the kind to send chills down the spine of the bravest men.
Legolas watched, feeling the muscles of his jaw tense. So this was the face of their enemy. No, not Theoden. . .but Saruman. This was the truth of the wise and compassionate Saruman. This coward. Legolas knew his eyes were narrowed, but he could not help himself. He hated any kind of parasite, and that was exactly what Saruman was now. A parasite who dealt out death and illness, heartbreak and grief.
Legolas sensed the anger rising in Gandalf's body. . .right before his old friend threw off his cloak, revealing his white robes. Gandalf the Grey was now Gandalf the White. . .and that made him the equal of the parasitical wizard now hiding behind Theoden King.
Something Saruman knew all too well, for he recoiled at the terrible, magnificent sight in front of him. Gandalf answered his old friend grimly, "I will draw you out, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound!" Ah. That was another good way of describing Saruman. Poison. And with those words, Gandalf extended his staff, throwing Saruman against the throne rightfully held by Theoden.
Saruman, of course, wouldn't go quietly. He hissed, "If I go, Theoden dies!" But Gandalf was just as determined to cast out Saruman as Saruman was determined to remain. Legolas wondered if Theoden was at all aware of what was going on. . .of the battle now being waged for his mind, his body, and his soul. He also wondered if Theoden would want to live like this, or if his death might be a mercy in this case.
However, such a possibility wasn't even an option for Gandalf, who answered evenly as he once more extended his staff forward, "You did not kill me. . .you will not kill him." There was a disturbance behind him, and Legolas glanced over to see Aragorn restraining a young, blonde-haired woman. Ardeth was paler, and the elf noticed with some concern that the newcomer's jaw was clenched, as if fighting back pain.
Legolas wanted to draw someone's attention to the chieftain's plight, but he knew what was at stake right now. He also did not want to place Ardeth in danger unnecessarily by drawing attention to his less than healthy state. So he kept silent. Saruman once more tried to maintain his claim on Theoden and his land by declaring defiantly, "Rohan is mine!" Unfortunately, it seemed the ancient wizard was just as stubborn as Estel. . .and that was saying a great deal.
However stubborn Saruman was, however, Gandalf was just as stubborn. Or simply unwilling to tolerate any more from Saruman, for he demanded, "Begone!" At the same time, he extended his staff one last time, again catapulting Saruman back against the throne. With a strange sound, Theoden toppled forward. Saruman was successfully cast out. One battle was won. There were more ahead.
. . .
In some ways, the casting out of Saruman reminded Ardeth Bey of stories he heard from his wife about possessions. . .and exorcisms. That was what he was seeing now. The Middle Earth version of an exorcist. As the king slumped forward in his throne, the young woman whom Aragorn was holding back rushed forward and caught him before he could fall to the floor. Before Ardeth's disbelieving eyes, the man who seemed to be a hundred years old only moments earlier. . .was losing years. By the time the transformation was complete, he seemed perhaps ten years older than Aragorn, in his late forties or early fifties.
In his mind's eye, Ardeth could visualize Saruman being knocked out of the king's body and back several feet. He didn't know if it was his imagination or if someone was being kind enough to show him the truth, but he did know that the image pleased him. The king looked at the young woman wonderingly, drawing the attention of the chieftain once more, "I know your face. Eowyn. . .Eowyn!"
The second time was said with far more confidence and even more tenderness. The young woman, who was evidently the king's niece, wept for joy as her uncle held her tenderly. He was far more than an uncle to her, then. He treated her almost like a daughter. . .in fact, in some ways, Theoden and Eowyn reminded Ardeth of Garai and Celia. The king then looked at the wizard who just freed him and questioned, as if not really believing what he saw, "Gandalf?"
Gandalf was smiling, looking both pleased and satisfied, and said, "Breathe the free air, my friend." Tension was slowly easing from the Hall. For the first time, Ardeth realized that the Captain of the Guard held back one of his own men. When that happened, he didn't know. Probably while he was fighting with one of the men loyal to Grima Wormtongue (and what kind of name was that?).
The king did as Gandalf suggested, adding in an almost-whisper, "Dark have been my dreams of late." His eyes swept over the company, frowning in a now-familiar manner when his gaze reached Ardeth. However, he said nothing further, particularly when he saw Aragorn step closer to Ardeth in an almost protective manner. Aragorn, the Med-jai learned during their journey, who was used to being the little brother to Elrohir and Elladan.
And Gandalf gave the king no time to question Ardeth's presence, for he said as the captain of the guards stepped forward, "Your fingers would remember their strength if they held your sword once more." From Ardeth's position, he could tell the wizard was smiling. He smiled and bantered more easily than any other wizard Ardeth ever knew. Then again, the only wizard or magick-user whom Ardeth truly knew was Imhotep. Not a fair comparison at all.
The king withdrew his sword at Gandalf's suggestion, his eyes lighting up with wonderment as he held the blade to the light. The wonderment turned to fury as he beheld Grima Wormtongue, who was still being guarded by Gimli. The spy drew back in fear, trembling visibly. Theoden ground out, "Seize him!" No one asked whom he meant. There was a grim satisfaction on the captain's face as he and another man stalked down to where Gimli maintained his guard.
The dwarf stepped to one side, making a sweeping gesture with his arm toward the quivering turncoat. His expression said quite clearly, 'He's all yours!' Ardeth told the voice of Rick O'Connell in his head to be silent. This was no time for the other man to be cracking jokes. The voice answered that he would not be silent, that he was the voice of Ardeth's own subconscious. Ardeth ignored that and focused on what was happening. The captain of the guard grimly inclined his head to Gimli. He took one side, his second took the other and the king added, "My Hall has been soiled long enough by that worm!" Now the grim smiles took on an almost evil expression as the two soldiers dragged the weeping turncoat out of the Hall.
Ardeth, Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, Legolas and the king all followed. From his position behind the others, he could see little, but Ardeth heard Wormtongue begging the king not to send him away. He also heard the king bellowing in fury. Something about Wormtongue having him on all fours like a beast before Saruman. There were other ways of putting it, however. What Wormtongue did to Theoden was a violation.
Ardeth leaned against the wall, the adrenaline slowly leaving his body. And it left exhaustion and pain in its place. He tried to focus on the ongoing confrontation between Theoden and Wormtongue, but blackness threatened the edges of his vision. He started to sway, but a strong arm about his waist stabilized him. Ardeth opened his eyes to find Legolas standing at his side, a worried expression on his face.
Ardeth tried to smile, but he needed that energy to buy himself a few more precious seconds of being able to stand. A bright light caught his attention, and Ardeth looked back in time to see Theoden raise his sword high over his head. Then Aragorn cried out, "No, my lord! Enough blood has been shed on his behalf." The bright light faded, and Ardeth presumed that the sword was being lowered, for there was no scream of pain or horror cut off suddenly.
Ardeth murmured, "I am not so certain that was such a wise thing for Aragorn to do. Sparing that one's life may come back to haunt us all." Legolas said nothing in answer, just kept an arm around Ardeth's waist. There was a cry of rage, and bodies parted for Ardeth to see Grima Wormtongue running out of the city. Running back to his master. Ardeth felt a chill. Yes. This could be very bad. He wished he could communicate that to Aragorn, but it was becoming more and more of a struggle to remain conscious and keep his feet.
There was a long silence, then Theoden asking in puzzlement, and fear, "Where is my son?" Ardeth raised his eyes to look at Legolas, who sighed and lowered his eyes. That was all the answer Ardeth needed. But the expression on the lovely young girl's face verified it. He wasn't the only one who noticed her expression. Theoden looked at her, asking gently, "Eowyn? Dearest niece. . .where is he? Where is my son?"
"Dead, my lord," Eowyn choked out, "he died of injuries suffered in an orc attack just this morning, after lingering for some days." Theoden's face was ashen, but he stepped forward and took his niece into his arms. Ardeth felt for the girl. She was obviously close to her cousin. He tried to imagine comforting Celia if she was to ever lose either of her brothers, and shuddered. Losing Galen or Jason would devastate his wife. Just as much as losing Anatol, Acacia, or Aleta would devastate him. It was too painful to imagine.
"Perhaps Gandalf could accompany Theoden King to his son's grave. . .I believe Ardeth needs to rest," Legolas suggested diplomatically. All eyes turned toward the young elf, including the king's. The elven prince inclined his head to Theoden, saying, "Forgive me for failing to introduce myself. I am Legolas Greenleaf, of Mirkwood. You know Gandalf. The Man is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and the dwarf is Gimli, son of Gloin. Our friend is Ardeth Bey, from a distant place. He has been a valuable ally." Gimli, who tried so hard to keep his suspicion from Ardeth, nodded vehemently.
Gandalf, standing behind Theoden, winked at Legolas in a conspiratorial manner, indicating he was quite pleased with Legolas. Theoden approached the two, looking at them almost critically. However, when he spoke, it was to Ardeth. He said quietly, "You have the look of the Easterlings about you, Ardeth Bey. How did you come to be traveling with my old friend, and why do they regard you as an ally?"
"He was drawn here from his own place by Saruman's sorcery. That is how he came to be here. As for the why. . .he was almost fatally injured while protecting two small Halflings. And, he fought alongside Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli against those loyal to Wormtongue while I freed you," Gandalf answered. There was no real reproach in his voice, and that made his words all the more painful. The king looked away.
"He looks on the verge of swooning! Bring him inside, and I will see to him," Eowyn exclaimed. Her voice sounded as if it came from a great distance, and Ardeth felt his legs give way. But even as he lapsed into darkness, Legolas was there to catch him, and gently lowered him to the ground. Then the world went mercifully black, and there was no more pain for a time.
. . .
As Aragorn hurried to help Legolas carry Ardeth back inside the Hall, an entirely different set of people were on a journey of their own. It was early morning, the best time to be traveling in late summer Egypt. Not that this particularly pleased Rick O'Connell. True, it got them out of the worst of the heat, but he had no wish to travel anywhere with Imhotep. He didn't trust the guy. . .and he never would.
On the other hand, as a Med-jai, Rick was bound to obey the requests of the Med-jai queen. And it wasn't the first time he worked with Imhotep for Ardeth's sake. He still didn't trust him, though. And curiously, he realized that Imhotep didn't trust him, either. Oh, well. Everyone had their little problems today, now didn't they? Right now, Rick's main concern was finding his best friend and seeing if they could bring him home.
A little ahead of them, Evy rode, a broad, floppy hat protecting her from the rising heat of the desert. And as incongruous as it looked, Anck seemed to be riding behind her. That made no sense. She could have simply appeared at their destination. She was a ghost, after all. She had no corporeal body, as Rick sometimes forgot. But instead, she was here, riding with them. Why she did that, Rick had no idea. He had no idea why she did anything. However, he couldn't deny. . .at least not any longer. . .that she almost always had Ardeth or Celia's best interests at heart. Or maybe even always.
That didn't mean he forgave her for what she did to his family. She put them all through hell. And all right, maybe it was Meela who stabbed Evy at Ahm Shere. Imhotep, Celia, and Ardeth certainly thought so, and while Rick didn't trust the guy, he also knew that Imhotep had reason to be suspicious of her. She left him to die. Left him to the Underworld. But he seemed convinced that Meela was the guilty party.
Evy seemed to agree, for her head turned slightly every few minutes, reacting to something Anck said. Rick couldn't hear what she said, but he could see her lips moving. And ever so often, he could even see her smile. What a strange idea. Evy and Anck, actually agreeing on something, and even laughing together. Something that could have never happened during the first time with the magic circle.
Anck was now looking at Evy *as* Evy, instead of as Nefertiri. The ghost freely admitted that she resented Nefertiri. Some of that was due to Nefertiri shutting out both Anck and Ardath, even before Anck began her affair with Imhotep. Now, Anck understood that Nefertiri sensed Ardath didn't have long to live, and she feared letting down her guard. She feared growing to care for Ardath, only to watch her die.
The caves came into view, and Rick's heart rate picked up. Here was where it happened. Here was where he betrayed his best friend. There was a part of him which half-expected Lady Ardath to show up and demand to know why he didn't fight harder, why he didn't protect her child. Imhotep said, as if hearing his thoughts, "If Lady Ardath has not shown herself, then she agrees with the little queen that you were not at fault."
Rick looked over at the other man, who added, "I made the mistake of underestimating Lady Ardath, and I misjudged her terribly. But this always I knew. She protected what was hers. Whether it was Rameses or Anck-su- namun, it never mattered. She was a protector at heart. It should not have surprised me, that Ardeth Bey was her descendent. They are very much alike."
That startled Rick, who never thought about similarities between his friend and Lady Ardath. The high priest went on, "With the veils removed from my eyes, O'Connell, I can see many things. Ardeth is the reincarnation of Rameses, tiyu, but he is also the many-times grandson of Lady Ardath. Something I will never again allow myself to forget. Just like his namesake, Ardeth protects what is his. And he has a much broader focus of what 'his' entails."
Rick said nothing at first, as he didn't know what to say. He still didn't like Imhotep, he still didn't trust him. But at the same time, he couldn't argue with the high priest. Imhotep was right, and it was annoying the hell out of Rick. He said finally, "I guess, I get so used to thinking of Celia as Lady Ardath's reincarnation, I forget that the Lady was also Ardeth's actual ancestor."
"Do you remember, O'Connell? Do you have a memory of Terumun? In the years before the Med-jai were exiled? Before Seti's death? The clash between Rameses and Moses?" Imhotep asked. Rick blinked. Actually, he did remember, though he didn't realize the confrontation was between Rameses and Moses. Imhotep continued, "He was always something of a hothead, Moses was. Rameses was even worse, of course."
That, Rick remembered rather well. There was a rivalry between Rameses and Moses that turned dark after Ardath's murder. Many things about the young prince turned dark, without the loving influence of his concubine. Imhotep continued, "Rameses and Seti were prepared to let the Hebrew slaves go. Rameses never forgot, you see, that his Ardath was raised by the Hebrews. He never forgave their god, for allowing her to die. But that was separate."
"And then," Rick murmured almost numbly, "Moses lost his temper. He insulted Ardath's memory, and told Rameses that her death was advance punishment of Rameses' wickedness. It was punishment for her, too, for loving Rameses. That was when Rameses swore the Israelites would never leave." He remembered. He remembered having to hold Rameses back, or the prince would have cut Moses down where he stood.
Imhotep was holding onto him on the other side. But neither of them thought to restrain Anck-su-namun. Pharaoh's favorite mistress flew into a rage and attacked Moses. Seti was the only one with the presence of mind to pull her back. Rick said then, "It was the only time Seti ever admitted openly that he loved Ardath. He told Moses that he did a very foolish thing by insulting his beloved daughter. That insulting Ardath was as bad as insulting Nefertiri."
Imhotep was silent, then said softly, "Strange. I forgot that. Or perhaps, more appropriately, I never allowed myself to remember. But he did say that." There was another long silence, then Imhotep went on, "I wonder how many other things about Seti I have forced myself to forget. Time does strange things to a memory. Do you know, O'Connell, how the Med- jai protected little Ardeth from the curse of the first-born?"
"I do," Rick said with a faint smile, "some of the slaves came and told them how to protect the boy. Some of the Hebrews whom Ardath protected and helped while she was alive. Secondly, Shakir and Paziyah put temporary warding tattoos on his face. These same Israelites went to Rameses' bedchamber that night and painted the protective sigil in lamb's blood."
He offered Imhotep a sardonic smile, adding, "Seems they felt they would be betraying Ardath's memory if they allowed the man she loved die. They were caught between Moses and Rameses, and their desire to remain true to one of their own." Imhotep shook his head, and Rick asked softly, "Why do you think Ardeth was taken?"
"I do not know," Imhotep admitted honestly, "but I can tell you why I would take him. He is a brave and determined warrior. He is a proud and honorable man. You described the man who took him as evil. Someone to surpass me, even at my worst. Thinking as I did, under the influence of the hom-dai. . .I would take him, for the pleasure of turning an honorable, good man into something dark and twisted."
"But you didn't. You could have tried to turn Alex, could have made him into something ugly. The way he tells it, there were times you. . .protected him. Especially from Lock-nah," Rick observed. He didn't like admitting it. It went against the grain. . . almost as badly as it went against the grain to join forces with Imhotep the first time around. And every time since then. But Rick O'Connell was nothing if not honest.
"He was a child. A child who did nothing to me, save putting on the Bracelet of Anpu. What honor is there is harming an innocent child? Because he was Nefertiri's son? I did not realize that at the time. And even if I did. . .he was not even born at the time of Seti's death. As for Lock-nah? Lock-nah was a coward. A swaggering bully who swore allegiance to me, without understanding what I desired," Imhotep answered.
It was a strange conversation to being having, but Rick came to expect such strange things, especially while he was in Egypt. The American asked softly, "And what did you desire? My death? My wife's death? World domination? World destruction? What did you want, Imhotep?" It was the first time he ever asked such a question. The first time he ever looked at his odd companion as a human being. . .as a man.
"Niy. I wanted none of those things. I only wanted them, because I believed that was the only way I could love Anck-su-namun in peace. I never realized how right I was when I told Meela that she was only Anck-su- namun's reincarnation in body. Meela looked like my princess, but she was incapable of loving. And Anck-su-namun? Her greatest sins came about because of her fierce love," Imhotep replied.
There was a quiet sigh from the other man, then he explained, "I never realized, until my final rising, O'Connell. You only stood against me, because I threatened what was yours. Had I left Evelyn and Alexander alone, you would have never fought me. And the past. . .something the little queen once told me repeats in my head. Long did I hate Nefertiri for calling out to the Med-jai. But. . .what else would she do? We were killing her father. . .betraying her father."
What might have been. Even after two years, those scenarios shown to him by Lady Ardath could give Rick nightmares. What if? Finally, the American said softly, "Things happened for a reason. That's what you're telling me. You think there's a reason Ardeth was taken by that slimebag. You think there's a specific reason why he was allowed to take him. There's something he supposed to do."
Imhotep nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the American. Great. Rick was afraid he would say something like that. As Anck slipped to the ground (appeared there?), and Evy swung down from her horse, the American sighed, "Just as long as the crazy Med-jai doesn't get himself killed in the meantime." Imhotep merely raised an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Rick all but growled, "Not a word out of you, or I'll kick your immortal ass clear to San Francisco."
"As I told your son, when he said more or less the same thing. . .I do not think so!" came the answer. Rick rolled his eyes and followed the immortal into the caves. Because, of course, the women were already inside. Of course. They couldn't wait!
. . .
The first thing Evelyn O'Connell noticed as they reached the caves. . .the entrance once more looked the way it did when they first saw it. Anck- su-namun whispered in ancient Egyptian, "What is it?" Knowing that her former rival could read her mind, could hear her thoughts, Evy projected an image as the cavern entrance as she saw it. . .but the first time, and the second. Anck inhaled sharply (though how she did that without lungs, Evy still didn't know), and murmured, "I understand."
"I'm glad one of us does," Evy answered in English with a sigh, dismounting. Anck appeared at her side, and the pair ventured into the caves. Everything was exactly as Evy and Rick left it the previous day, when they returned to tell Celia what happened. Anck gave her a tentative smile as Evy lit a torch. The Englishwoman said softly, "I thank you for coming with me, Anck-su-namun. I know you would have preferred to remain with Celia."
"Sennefer. . .I mean, Garai. . .and Altair will take care of her while we are here," came the unexpected reply, "and I know I am where she wishes me to be. If I can do anything to help bring Ardeth home, I will do it." The pair continued along in silence until they reached the chamber where Ardeth was taken. The structures were still there, and Evy took a deep breath. She could still see it in her mind. . .all of it. Anck shuddered, though she was merely a spirit, and whispered, "I can feel the evil in this place. It is cold. Just as Meela was."
It was a strange comment to make, and Evy looked at her companion. Anck looked back, and for a moment, Evy knew that the princess was seeing Nefertiri, her rival. Then her eyes cleared, and Evy knew that Anck was seeing Evelyn O'Connell. The ghost said softly, "It was so strange. . .two souls in one body, though I hesitate to say Meela even had a soul. She was so cold, Evelyn. So very cold. She enjoyed causing pain. Just like Lock- nah."
Evy didn't speak, sensing that this was something Anck needed to say. In the last two years, there were few times when they actually spoke without Celia there to keep the peace. Just in case. The princess continued, "It took me a long time to separate myself from Meela, even after we both perished. Celia has told me often that it was Meela who killed you, but it was hard to separate my resentment of Nefertiri from Meela's hatred."
"You resented her, I don't believe you hated her," Evy interposed. Anck gave her a weary smile, and Evy continued, "I never really thought about what it must have been like for you, Meela and Anck in one body. It was different for me. Nefertiri came back with me, because she knew I would need her. But I was in control. In some ways, your resurrection into Meela was something like a violation."
Anck stared at her in shock, then lowered her eyes. She said softly, "I did not think anyone else would understand. Or that anyone would even think about that. The. . .I did not wish to think so. After everything Imhotep did for me, to bring me back to life. But you are right. Nefertiri joined with you willingly, to protect you. She might not understand you, but you are part of her, and she would not allow you to face me alone."
"And Ardath never truly went away. She was always there, with the others, in the back of Celia's mind, just waiting for the right time to ask her permission. She could not go, not until Rameses was ready to go with her. In a way, she was just as much a ghost as you are," Evy said thoughtfully as she knelt in front of the structures which served as a portal to drag her brother away from them.
"Tiyu," Anck admitted, "but she also stayed, once she was awakened, to protect Celia. Just as Nefertiri was there to protect you." There was a brief silence, then Anck continued, "At Ahm Shere, control of our body kept passing back and forth between us. You must believe me, Evelyn. I *never* wished to kill you. Not you. Not Nefertiri. Not at Ahm Shere, and not at Hamunaptra. It was. . .you blinded me, you see? The light that was your soul and your life. . .it blinded me, and it hurt!"
There was raw pain in the concubine's voice now. Evy thought about Hamunaptra and trying to fight off Anck-su-namun's animated mummy. And she thought she understood. Anck continued, "Ardath was always the strong one. I lashed out and she soothed. I could only find comfort from her and Imhotep. As Pharaoh's daughter, you never knew about the cruelty among the concubines, the constant plots for power. I wanted no such power, only love. And I never dreamed that Seti was just a lonely old man who also needed to be loved."
Anck took a deep breath, then released it. She looked at Evelyn straight on, saying softly, "He was a soldier first, you see. The son of a soldier, and in our time, there was seldom room for compassion in soldiers, save to their own wives and children. He treated Nefertiri with such tenderness. Perhaps that was why I resented her so. Had he treated me with even a little of the tenderness he showed her. . ."
"But he thought you didn't need it. You never showed him that you were just as vulnerable as Nefertiri or Ardath. His daughters. You remember when Moses insulted her memory? Nefertiri was there, too, Anck-su- namun. Do you remember how Seti had to hold you back, and how you wept afterward?" Evy asked softly. Anck lowered her eyes once more, but Evy had to continue, "He held you, Anck, and caressed your hair. He held you with such tenderness, it made Nefertiri's throat ache to see."
"I remember. Evelyn . . .I am trying to say . . .I did not wield the dagger that ended your life, however briefly. But I am sorry for it. I suppose I am saying this now, because I fear I cannot do anything to help Ardeth, not alone. I will need your help, and I wish everything to be said. So that we may concentrate on Ardeth, and no unfinished business between us," Anck-su-namun said earnestly.
Evelyn looked at the spirit kneeling beside her. She was different from the Anck-su-namun she knew as Nefertiri. Partly because while she had Nefertiri's memories, she was Evelyn. And partly because death freed Anck. Anck, she saw now, was never truly evil. Just a loving friend and sister who lost her way. Just as Nefertiri's own brother lost his way. Evelyn placed her hand where Anck's shoulder would have been, were she alive, and said softly, in ancient Egyptian, "You are forgiven."
They might never be friends. But for two years, they were allies and shared common ground in many ways. They would both do anything for the people they loved most in the world. Evy was told that Anck swore she would not be reborn until Celia and Ardeth was. With that in mind, the reincarnated princess told her former rival in the ancient tongue, "Perhaps in our next life, we will be friends." A smile lit the face of her companion.
"But for now," Anck replied in the same language, "let us see what we can do to free our brother." Evy nodded, smiling at this reference to Ardeth. As Rick and Imhotep joined them, the Englishwoman could only shake her head. He truly was an amazing man, her brother reborn. Only he could draw two sets of mortal enemies together as a team. As members of the royal family and their high priest, Nefertiri, Rameses, Anck-su-namun and Imhotep learned spells. But it was Ardeth who performed the greatest magic. Not with spells, not with incantations. . .but with love.
. . .
For the first time in more than three thousand years, Imhotep, high priest of Osiris, was actually nervous. This was. . .beyond anything he attempted before, and all through the ride he was racking his braincase for spells that would help to open the portal. And to top it all off, he was riding with his enemy, Rick O'Connell. Terumun was only his enemy at the end, but not even remembering that could make him like the annoying, brash American.
On the other hand, no matter how much he hated O'Connell, and O'Connell hated him, Imhotep knew that neither of them would do anything to further jeopardize Ardeth's life or their mission. Firstly, because neither could forgive themselves if anything happened to Ardeth because of their rivalry, arrogance, or stupidity. Secondly, they both knew that if they let their dislike of each other get in the way, Celia would kick their respective posteriors, and her two best friends would help her do it.
Celia. The little queen never failed to amaze him. 'Have done,' she told him in the Council Hall, using phraseology not heard for centuries. It was Celia's voice and accent, but he didn't doubt that Lady Ardath remained within her. He misjudged the young concubine, misjudged her terribly, and it was a mistake he didn't intend to repeat with her reincarnation. Celia was small, and appeared fragile.
Vulnerable, she was. Fragile, she was not. And only a fool would mistake her for weak. Many a time, especially after her beloved forever friend was murdered, Anck-su-namun told him that Ardath was always the strong one. She drew her strength from her forever friend, but Imhotep never understood. He was young and foolish, and mistook brute force for true strength.
Looking back now, he realized that Lady Ardath's accusation inside Hamunaptra, that he failed Rameses, failed to keep his promise to look after Rameses, was painfully accurate. He betrayed his friend, betrayed his promise, betrayed every vow he ever uttered. And yet, it was because of that failure that she broke the hom-dai. So long as that cycle was repeated, Imhotep could never atone for what he did.
It was that understanding, too, which allowed him to have compassion for the Med-jai of today. They truly were just as much victims of the hom- dai as Imhotep himself. Now the only hatred that remained in his heart, were for the Med-jai of his own time, the ones who condemned him in the first place. Hamadi Bey, and Khaldun. Imhotep bore no hatred for the entire Bey family. They, in fact, were the only ones whom he trusted in this new time.
No, he hated only Hamadi Bey. Unfortunately, it was becoming harder for Imhotep as well. Did not Imhotep lash out when he was hurting and angry and guilt-ridden, just as Hamadi Bey did? Would not Imhotep have the exact same thing, were the positions reversed? If someone under his protection was killed, and one of the murderers was intent on resurrecting the others. . .would he not have been equally ruthless?
It was a struggle for Imhotep to balance his remaining hatred of the long-ago Med-jai captain with the compassion he was re-discovering. Before the casting of the hom-dai, Hamadi Bey was an honorable man, albeit a hidebound one. A man who kept too many secrets and knew far too much, but an honorable man nonetheless. He and Imhotep didn't like each other, but they respected each other.
Perhaps that was what hurt so much. Not just the physical pain and torment of the casting of the hom-dai, but the knowledge that it was a man whom he respected who was casting the curse. Imhotep wondered if Hamadi Bey, or any of his reincarnations, ever felt any remorse for that long-ago injustice. He wondered if the Med-jai captain regretted the decision he made before being disemboweled.
And Khaldun. Imhotep's heart hardened at the thought of his long- dead nemesis. There would never be forgiveness in him, not for that one. Not after everything he did. He was the one most responsible for the casting of the hom-dai, he who used the Med-jai to achieve his evil ends. Imhotep didn't pretend to be an innocent, when it came to using people. But he protected Alex O'Connell while the child traveled with him, he protected the boy from Lock-nah. And what Khaldun did to the Med-jai was a violation.
Then again, Khaldun was good at violating people. He did it to the Med-jai of their time, he did it to Ardeth, and he did it to O'Connell. In that time, Imhotep saw good even in people he disliked. He saw no good in Khaldun. He was responsible not only for Ardath's murder, but for her miscarriage in the fifth month of her pregnancy. Tiyu, Imhotep did not like her or respect her in those days. But he would wish such grief on no woman, least of all the woman his best friend loved. He never forgot what losing that child did to Rameses, nor did he forget what losing Ardath did to the prince. And that was what brought him here today, to this place and this time. He still owed this line a great deal. Some payment was rendered. . .but not enough.
"It was here, where it happened," Evelyn O'Connell said. Imhotep looked at the structures she indicated, and barely suppressed a shudder. They spoke the truth then. He could feel the evil emanating from the 'towers,' as they were called. Evelyn continued, her voice trembling, "Look there. You can see where he was dragged. You can see. . ." She stopped, her voice failing her.
Imhotep did look. . .and he could see, too, where Ardeth was dragged across the sandy floor of the caverns. The marks left by his fingers as he fought his abductor, the outline of his body, the outline of the American's body as he fought to keep Ardeth here, where he belonged. Imhotep could see it all, and his jaw tightened. The hom-dai was removed, but many of the powers remained, along with his immortality.
A sound drew his attention away from the tracks, and he looked at the source of the sound. Anck-su-namun. She was staring at those same tracks, and tears were coursing down her cheeks. She was crying. Anck-su-namun was crying. Imhotep stared at her, feeling nigh to fainting with that revelation. What did she see that he did not? What did she see that he *could* not? He was the Keeper of the Dead. . .and she remained in the world of the living.
"I can see him, Evelyn. I can see him. He fell into a place of strange creatures. . . with lush green grass and towering trees," she whispered. She wiped absently at her tears, as if she was only vaguely aware of them. Evelyn stepped closer, almost protective in her stance. Evelyn. Reincarnation of Nefertiri. Behaving in a protective manner toward Anck-su-namun. Either the world was going mad or Imhotep was.
"What else do you see, Anck-su-namun?" Evelyn asked softly, switching between English and ancient Egyptian without really thinking about it. O'Connell was also staring at Anck-su-namun. He looked as lost as Imhotep felt, and in that moment, the high priest realized that was probably why Celia sent them both. Give them common ground. Damn her. Damn her for being so determined. Damn Ardeth for being taken and putting him in this position.
He would have damned Anck-su-namun, Evelyn and Richard O'Connell as well, and anyone else who crossed his mind, but Anck-su-namun was answering Evelyn's question. In a trembling voice, she answered, "He is hurt, so badly. Broken ribs. . .a stab wound from one of the monsters. But still he fights. . .he cannot turn aside while those who are small and helpless are in danger. He fights. . .and draws the wrath of he who took him from us. He fights, and wins four allies, friends to the small ones he protected."
Imhotep felt an icy finger tracing his spine. How did she know this? How could she possibly know this? As soon as the question was thought, the answer provided itself. Anck-su-namun was dead. . .yet she did not reside in the Afterlife, or in the Underworld. Her vision was not limited to their world. Combined with the few spells and incantations she learned as the mistress, then later the chosen bride of Seti. . .now he began to understand the kind of vision she possessed. At the same time, Evelyn began chanting, and Imhotep did not recognize the language. It was not ancient Egyptian. It was not Arabic. Nor was it English.
That icy finger returned as he realized that Evelyn was calling upon the memories of another lifetime. Cold spread through his body, when O'Connell began to chant with her. But that was nothing compared to the terror he felt when there was an image. Between the two 'towers.' The image first showed a man. . .an ancient man, with long white hair and a white beard that was almost as long. The man whom the O'Connells saw. The source of the evil.
A familiar sensation battled the ice, and warmed Imhotep. He embraced it, for the familiar burn of hatred was almost comforting. Between the two women, Imhotep's world was once more turned upside down. He never guessed that Anck-su-namun could see as far as she did. Nor did it ever occur to him that Evelyn lived other lifetimes, aside from Princess Nefertiri.
The picture changed, now showing Ardeth battling misshapen figures that resembled men, and yet were not. Imhotep watched in horror as one such figure drove his knife into Ardeth's unprotected abdomen. A rough moan of protest and anger was drawn from O'Connell, but Imhotep barely paid attention. For though he was badly wounded, still, the Med-jai chieftain fought. . .just as Anck-su-namun said.
Now Ardeth was no longer alone, but accompanied by four others. A man, who bore a strange resemblance to the Med-jai chieftain, held Ardeth in front of him on a horse. Ardeth was half-conscious, and the dark-haired stranger carried Ardeth's weight willingly. There was another very old man, with a white beard almost as long as his hair, but Imhotep felt no evil from this man. Only a determination to stop the evil one.
A young blond-haired man, appearing to be the age of Celia's younger brother Jason, rode with a second, much smaller figure. A second look told Imhotep that it was a dwarf. No evil came from either of these figures, either. Imhotep realized that the young blond man was much older than he appeared. . .and that the dwarf was a fierce fighter. Then the picture winked out and Anck-su-namun exhaled slowly.
"Well. . ." O'Connell said into the silence that followed, his arm shooting out to steady his swaying wife, "it wasn't a total failure. We did see into this other world. We know who took Ardeth, and we know that he has people looking after him." O'Connell started to say more, but fell silent. Instead, he occupied himself by fussing over his wife.
"We learned one other thing, O'Connell," Imhotep stated with grim pleasure. The other three in the cave looked at him, and the high priest continued, "We know the name of our enemy. The one who took Ardeth from his home is called 'Saruman.' We know the name of the enemy, and we know his purpose in taking Ardeth. We cannot rescue him. . .but we know more than when we arrived here. It has not been a failure at all."
Privately, Imhotep marked that name. Saruman. He who made Imhotep look like a Sunday school teacher, to borrow Jonathan's phrase. When Ardeth was safely home, Imhotep would make sure Saruman was as reviled as Khaldun. . .as reviled as Imhotep before the hom-dai was broken. Though he was remembering compassion, Imhotep still could be ruthless. Saruman harmed someone for whom Imhotep cared. For him, there would be no compassion.
The reason I bring this up, is because both Imhotep and Rick make reference to Moses in the chapter. Given the way I write Rameses, I also wanted to provide an explanation for his behavior.
Reviews:
Mommints: (beams happily) Good. . .if you're utterly comfortably with the mixing of the two movies, then it means I've been doing my job properly as a storyteller. I must admit, however, that some of the antiquated language comes not just from watching the three LOTR movies, but reading the ancient Greek myths, especially the Iliad and the Odyssey over the last several weeks. I know, I was evil by making Ardeth laugh when he was hurt so badly, but Gandalf's sense of humor is hard to resist. I thank you for the compliment, especially since I've loved all of your stories.
Terreis: No, Celia wouldn't go ballistic on Rick in this situation. Especially not when he was doing such a good job of blaming himself in the first place. No forgiveness required, since Celia DOES have something of a temper, and it is usually Rick who triggers that temper. Just not this time. While I don't know how Tolkien (or Peter Jackson) deals with Saruman, I have my own ideas of what Ardeth will do when confronted with the being responsible for his unexpected trip to ME.
Kitrazzle Fayn: Why, thank you, dear! (smiles) I'm so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter. And Gimli was a favorite of mine in the movies. . .sort of a gruff, fiery, tough warrior with a soft heart he tried very hard to disguise. My next-door neighbor is a lot like Gimli in terms of attitude.
Aria-hannah: Thanks, hon! Oh my, you found 'A Most Bizarre Ritual,' on Ruse's site? I've been trying to reformat that, to post it here, but the diskette is corrupted. I'm glad you enjoyed it though. . .it was a lot of fun to write, and I'm actually mulling over a sequel, in which Ardeth and Imhotep play a prank on Rick.
Deana: Sorry it took longer than I was anticipating to post this. I kept forgetting some crucial dialogue for the confrontation in Theoden's Hall. I finally had to watch the scene two or three times, to make I was reasonably close. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.
Sailor Elf: I love your reviews. They are so entertaining! I get the image of you bouncing up and down at your computer, and that always makes me smile.
Okay, now on with the story!
Part Six
Ardeth slowly relaxed against Aragorn as they drew closer to Edoras. The ranger could feel it in the way their new companion slumped in the saddle, and knew how tired Ardeth was. But he also appreciated the chieftain's attempt to spare his strength as long as possible. As they approached the outskirts of the city, Gandalf once more repeated his warning about their reception in the city.
To which Gimli replied, "You would find more cheer in a graveyard!" Looking at the tired, worn faces of the people who inhabited Edoras, Aragorn could hardly argue. Most could not, or would not, meet the eyes of the remaining Fellowship. However, Aragorn did notice more than a few stares in Ardeth's direction. Ardeth noticed as well and he stiffened slightly. But that was the only indication that he noticed.
Aragorn at last looked away from the faces of the Edoras subjects, his eye caught by a motion. The pennant of the Horse-Lords torn from its rightful place, an omen if ever Aragorn saw one. At the same time, he noticed a young woman gazing down at them. He could not see her features clearly, but he could see that she had long blonde hair that whipped about her face. He looked away briefly. . .and when he looked back once more, she was gone.
Her appearance and disappearance served to make Aragorn that much more uneasy about this city. Ardeth murmured, "Gimli speaks far too truly. My people have been described as grim, and sometimes harsh, for it is a harsh life that we even now live. But never have they been described as beaten. That is what I see in the faces of these people. How long has their king been under the sway of this Saruman?"
"Too long," was all Gandalf would say. Disquieted by this observation, Aragorn urged his horse forward. Gandalf led them inside the stables, slipping down from Shadowfax and leading the horse into a stall. Knowing there would be no room for both he and Ardeth to dismount inside the stall, Aragorn dismounted first, then helped their ally down as well. Ardeth was a little shaky on his feet, but there was a grim determination burning in his dark eyes.
It was that determination which allowed Aragorn to release his hold on the younger man as Legolas and Gimli dismounted. The dwarf's suspicion of their ally hadn't escaped Aragorn's notice. And he couldn't blame Gimli for trying to protect them. That was simply part of what and whom Gimli, son of Gloin, was. Thus, he was pleased, and more than a little proud, when the dwarf abandoned his usual bluster and simply stood quietly at Ardeth's side, allowing the chieftain to lean against him if it became necessary.
"There are two parts to our ruse," Gandalf explained as he reached over to steady Ardeth. Aragorn and Legolas listened intently as they rubbed down the three horses. The wizard continued, "They will want us to turn over our weapons, and we shall. However, this is where the deception comes into play. I shall keep my staff, because it is, after all, a walking stick, and I am a very old man."
There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he said this. Aragorn suppressed a smile and returned his attention to his work. But not before he exchanged a glance with Legolas, who looked just as amused as he felt. The wizard went on, "In addition, I will be leaning on Legolas, who is young and strong, as well as agile. Aragorn will be supporting Ardeth's weight. Ardeth, lad, you will need to give them that fearsome-looking sword. When I cast out Saruman from Theoden, it will be returned to you."
"I fear I am incapable of using it properly at the moment," came Ardeth's weary answer. There was a tired humor in there, but Ardeth continued, "I will do everything I can to aid you, Gandalf. Even without my scimitar, and even wounded, I can still fight." Aragorn finished what he was doing and walked over to the intense young man. Intense, yes . . .that was a good word for this man who seemed far older than his years.
Gandalf smiled and put his hand on the young man's shoulder, answering, "I know, lad. But there is a time to use that sword, a time to use your head, a time to use deception, and a time to use magic. The trick is learning when to use what weapon, and to what degree. Right now, the best weapon you have is your still-returning strength. Do not push your body to its limits yet, Ardeth Bey, there will be time enough for that later. Entirely too much time, I fear."
"To everything there is a season, and a purpose under heaven," Ardeth answered as Aragorn returned to his side. The denizens of Middle Earth looked at him, Aragorn's own surprise reflecting on the faces of the others, and the chieftain explained, "In one of the Great Books of our time, a Great Book that was written over several centuries in the region where I was born and grew up, there is a book called 'Ecclesiastics.' My wife quotes from it sometimes when she wishes to prove a point." He paused, then added with a wry grin, "It is also part of a song that was popular around the time I was born."
"Do you miss your wife less when you speak of her, Ardeth?" Legolas asked as the five moved slowly toward the castle. Aragorn's best friend continued, his curiosity reflected in his eyes, "I have never taken a wife and have little experience with such things. I am curious. Does it ease the pain of being parted from your time and your world to speak of her? I would think that it would hurt more, since she is not here with you."
"But when I speak of her, Legolas, Celia *is* here. She is in my heart, she is at my side. On our wedding day, we exchanged gifts. Her gift to me was this cloak I now wear. So long as I keep it close to me, I am never truly without her. When I return home after being away, she adds some of her favorite scent to the fabric. Not a great deal. Not enough to draw the attention of my warriors. Just enough so that her scent is there even when she is not. I am never without her. . .never," Ardeth answered.
Aragorn wanted to close his eyes, wanted to close his ears to shut out Ardeth's words, because they struck at the very heart of him. He carried Arwen with him, no matter where he was. She was always there. He clenched his jaw. By the Valar, he wished she was with him now! He wished he could see her face, hear her voice, feel her touch. He missed her.
They had a job to do. He knew that. But Aragorn was only a man, and he struggled mightily with this task that was laid out before him. The One Ring no longer tempted him. But there were temptations in life, aside from power. The temptation to turn away, though you knew in your heart that you were doing the right thing. The temptation to turn away, because the path was growing dark and frightful, and you weren't sure if you had the strength to go on.
As they began the walk up the steps leading to the castle, Ardeth Bey turned his head and looked straight at Aragorn. There was no judgment there, only compassion and wisdom. Ardeth knew what he was thinking. And he, Aragorn, who was supposed to be lending the wounded warrior his strength. . .was receiving some of Ardeth's own quiet strength. The self- exiled king bowed his head to his new ally in respect and thanks.
There was no time for words, because as they reached the top step and came face to face with the guards, the ruse went into effect. Aragorn mentally prepared himself for what was to come, and bit back a smile as the reassuring squeeze of the forearm he received from Ardeth. Gandalf already beat Saruman twice. There was no reason he couldn't do it a third time.
. . .
As Gandalf predicted, the captain of the guards did indeed take their weapons. However, Legolas also noted the distaste on the man's face as he mentioned Grima Wormtongue's name. The elf could hardly blame him for that.
Just the name was enough to make one grimace. And based on the exchange they had with the Rohirrim whilst searching for Merry and Pippin, it seemed that the man lived up to his name. It was he who, no doubt, gave Saruman access to Theoden King. The elf prince kept his thoughts to himself, as Gandalf told them upon reaching the city, and instead played his own role. The young and strong elf whose steady arm was necessary to the more frail Gandalf.
Frail, hah! As Gandalf protested with an appealing expression, "Surely you would not deprive an old man of his walking stick," it was all Legolas could do to keep a straight face. Gandalf was several thousand years older than he was, but that made him in no way frail. Something the captain of the guard probably knew. . .but the man allowed him to keep his staff nonetheless. And fortunately for Legolas, he had almost three thousand years worth of experience to call upon to keep his face neutral.
And instead, he focused on turning over his weapons. As Gandalf predicted, even Ardeth had to turn over his sword. Gimli turned over his axe amid much grumbling, while Aragorn turned over his own sword and knives, each motion deliberate, all the while staring into the eyes of the guards. Several of them looked ill at ease, and Legolas took heart. These, at least, would not stop them from doing what had to be done.
With the weapons confiscated, the guards stepped to one side. From the corner of his eye, Legolas noticed Gandalf wink at Aragorn. Estel was suppressing a smile, and Legolas followed his friend's example. As they moved past the guards, Gandalf seemed to lean against Legolas, and there was no pretense in Ardeth's need for Aragorn's support as they were allowed inside the Hall.
The interior made Legolas shudder. There was evil here, he could *feel* it. As an elf, he had more sensitive senses than most humans. And the source of the evil was. . . there. With the keen hearing of all elves, the prince of Mirkwood heard that evil man say in a very low voice, "My lord, Gandalf the Grey is coming." Almost as soon as the words were spoken, the doors closed behind them, and there was the very distinctive sound of those doors locking.
Ignoring the crouched figure, obviously Grima Wormtongue, Gandalf said, his voice betraying naught but confidence and strength, "The courtesy of your Hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King." From the corner of his eye, Legolas noticed a small group of men walking parallel to the five. A quick glance back to Aragorn told him that his friend noticed, as did Gimli and Ardeth. They would be trouble. Fortunately, the remaining members of the Fellowship were prepared for this eventuality.
Just as they were prepared for Wormtongue to murmur to the king, "He is not welcome." Legolas grimaced. No wonder the people of this city, of this nation, were so bereft of hope. No wonder the Rohirrim told them that hope abandoned Rohan. Much made sense. And still, those men watched. Men loyal to Wormtongue, without a doubt. Mercenaries, perhaps, and therefore loyal to no one. There was that possibility as well. Legolas mentally counted the number of attackers. No more than four or five. It would be a simple matter for them to take Wormtongue's men, even if there was just three of them, instead of four.
The king mumbled, obviously under Wormtongue's control, "Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" A quick glance at his companions told Legolas that Ardeth was frowning, though he maintained his pose of being unable to fight. Good. That was very good. The men preparing now to attack would get a very nasty surprise when the seemingly-weak warrior fought back.
For now, however, Legolas kept his eyes on the Istari and the king. Wormtongue answered in a fawning tone, "A just question, my liege." He rose to his feet, glaring at the entire party, and continued, "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear; Lathespell I name you, ill news is an ill guest!" Conjurer? Legolas heard Gandalf called many things, some of which should not be repeated in mixed company, but that was a new term.
And Gandalf was not of a mind to put up with Wormtongue, in any manner. He snapped, "Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth! I did not pass through fire and death to bandy words with a witless worm!" For the first time, Saruman's spy noticed the staff in Gandalf's free hand.
His eyes widened and he swung to face the captain of the guard, exclaiming, "His staff! I *told* you to take the wizard's staff!" It seemed that those words were a signal of some kind, for the men whom Legolas noticed chose to attack then. Gandalf released his grip on Legolas, allowing the young elf to slip away. Within moments, each of the five was engaged, including Ardeth. Gandalf continued his attempt to free Theoden.
One by one, each of the five took out a man. Legolas was on his way to rejoin Gandalf when he heard footsteps behind him. Without even looking behind him, Legolas raised his arm from his side and hit his would-be attacker. He didn't look when he struck. Nor did he look when he heard the other man hit the ground. His attention was on the drama unfolding. Gimli had Wormtongue on the ground, his foot on the spy's chest, and the dwarf growled in a menacing voice, "I would stay still, if I were you!"
A quick look told Legolas that both Aragorn and Ardeth were fine, though a fine film of sweat covered Ardeth's face. The two men joined the elf as Theoden began to laugh. Not Theoden. It was not Theoden. It was Saruman. At last, still wheezing, the wizard told them defiantly, "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" There was more laughter, the kind to send chills down the spine of the bravest men.
Legolas watched, feeling the muscles of his jaw tense. So this was the face of their enemy. No, not Theoden. . .but Saruman. This was the truth of the wise and compassionate Saruman. This coward. Legolas knew his eyes were narrowed, but he could not help himself. He hated any kind of parasite, and that was exactly what Saruman was now. A parasite who dealt out death and illness, heartbreak and grief.
Legolas sensed the anger rising in Gandalf's body. . .right before his old friend threw off his cloak, revealing his white robes. Gandalf the Grey was now Gandalf the White. . .and that made him the equal of the parasitical wizard now hiding behind Theoden King.
Something Saruman knew all too well, for he recoiled at the terrible, magnificent sight in front of him. Gandalf answered his old friend grimly, "I will draw you out, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound!" Ah. That was another good way of describing Saruman. Poison. And with those words, Gandalf extended his staff, throwing Saruman against the throne rightfully held by Theoden.
Saruman, of course, wouldn't go quietly. He hissed, "If I go, Theoden dies!" But Gandalf was just as determined to cast out Saruman as Saruman was determined to remain. Legolas wondered if Theoden was at all aware of what was going on. . .of the battle now being waged for his mind, his body, and his soul. He also wondered if Theoden would want to live like this, or if his death might be a mercy in this case.
However, such a possibility wasn't even an option for Gandalf, who answered evenly as he once more extended his staff forward, "You did not kill me. . .you will not kill him." There was a disturbance behind him, and Legolas glanced over to see Aragorn restraining a young, blonde-haired woman. Ardeth was paler, and the elf noticed with some concern that the newcomer's jaw was clenched, as if fighting back pain.
Legolas wanted to draw someone's attention to the chieftain's plight, but he knew what was at stake right now. He also did not want to place Ardeth in danger unnecessarily by drawing attention to his less than healthy state. So he kept silent. Saruman once more tried to maintain his claim on Theoden and his land by declaring defiantly, "Rohan is mine!" Unfortunately, it seemed the ancient wizard was just as stubborn as Estel. . .and that was saying a great deal.
However stubborn Saruman was, however, Gandalf was just as stubborn. Or simply unwilling to tolerate any more from Saruman, for he demanded, "Begone!" At the same time, he extended his staff one last time, again catapulting Saruman back against the throne. With a strange sound, Theoden toppled forward. Saruman was successfully cast out. One battle was won. There were more ahead.
. . .
In some ways, the casting out of Saruman reminded Ardeth Bey of stories he heard from his wife about possessions. . .and exorcisms. That was what he was seeing now. The Middle Earth version of an exorcist. As the king slumped forward in his throne, the young woman whom Aragorn was holding back rushed forward and caught him before he could fall to the floor. Before Ardeth's disbelieving eyes, the man who seemed to be a hundred years old only moments earlier. . .was losing years. By the time the transformation was complete, he seemed perhaps ten years older than Aragorn, in his late forties or early fifties.
In his mind's eye, Ardeth could visualize Saruman being knocked out of the king's body and back several feet. He didn't know if it was his imagination or if someone was being kind enough to show him the truth, but he did know that the image pleased him. The king looked at the young woman wonderingly, drawing the attention of the chieftain once more, "I know your face. Eowyn. . .Eowyn!"
The second time was said with far more confidence and even more tenderness. The young woman, who was evidently the king's niece, wept for joy as her uncle held her tenderly. He was far more than an uncle to her, then. He treated her almost like a daughter. . .in fact, in some ways, Theoden and Eowyn reminded Ardeth of Garai and Celia. The king then looked at the wizard who just freed him and questioned, as if not really believing what he saw, "Gandalf?"
Gandalf was smiling, looking both pleased and satisfied, and said, "Breathe the free air, my friend." Tension was slowly easing from the Hall. For the first time, Ardeth realized that the Captain of the Guard held back one of his own men. When that happened, he didn't know. Probably while he was fighting with one of the men loyal to Grima Wormtongue (and what kind of name was that?).
The king did as Gandalf suggested, adding in an almost-whisper, "Dark have been my dreams of late." His eyes swept over the company, frowning in a now-familiar manner when his gaze reached Ardeth. However, he said nothing further, particularly when he saw Aragorn step closer to Ardeth in an almost protective manner. Aragorn, the Med-jai learned during their journey, who was used to being the little brother to Elrohir and Elladan.
And Gandalf gave the king no time to question Ardeth's presence, for he said as the captain of the guards stepped forward, "Your fingers would remember their strength if they held your sword once more." From Ardeth's position, he could tell the wizard was smiling. He smiled and bantered more easily than any other wizard Ardeth ever knew. Then again, the only wizard or magick-user whom Ardeth truly knew was Imhotep. Not a fair comparison at all.
The king withdrew his sword at Gandalf's suggestion, his eyes lighting up with wonderment as he held the blade to the light. The wonderment turned to fury as he beheld Grima Wormtongue, who was still being guarded by Gimli. The spy drew back in fear, trembling visibly. Theoden ground out, "Seize him!" No one asked whom he meant. There was a grim satisfaction on the captain's face as he and another man stalked down to where Gimli maintained his guard.
The dwarf stepped to one side, making a sweeping gesture with his arm toward the quivering turncoat. His expression said quite clearly, 'He's all yours!' Ardeth told the voice of Rick O'Connell in his head to be silent. This was no time for the other man to be cracking jokes. The voice answered that he would not be silent, that he was the voice of Ardeth's own subconscious. Ardeth ignored that and focused on what was happening. The captain of the guard grimly inclined his head to Gimli. He took one side, his second took the other and the king added, "My Hall has been soiled long enough by that worm!" Now the grim smiles took on an almost evil expression as the two soldiers dragged the weeping turncoat out of the Hall.
Ardeth, Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, Legolas and the king all followed. From his position behind the others, he could see little, but Ardeth heard Wormtongue begging the king not to send him away. He also heard the king bellowing in fury. Something about Wormtongue having him on all fours like a beast before Saruman. There were other ways of putting it, however. What Wormtongue did to Theoden was a violation.
Ardeth leaned against the wall, the adrenaline slowly leaving his body. And it left exhaustion and pain in its place. He tried to focus on the ongoing confrontation between Theoden and Wormtongue, but blackness threatened the edges of his vision. He started to sway, but a strong arm about his waist stabilized him. Ardeth opened his eyes to find Legolas standing at his side, a worried expression on his face.
Ardeth tried to smile, but he needed that energy to buy himself a few more precious seconds of being able to stand. A bright light caught his attention, and Ardeth looked back in time to see Theoden raise his sword high over his head. Then Aragorn cried out, "No, my lord! Enough blood has been shed on his behalf." The bright light faded, and Ardeth presumed that the sword was being lowered, for there was no scream of pain or horror cut off suddenly.
Ardeth murmured, "I am not so certain that was such a wise thing for Aragorn to do. Sparing that one's life may come back to haunt us all." Legolas said nothing in answer, just kept an arm around Ardeth's waist. There was a cry of rage, and bodies parted for Ardeth to see Grima Wormtongue running out of the city. Running back to his master. Ardeth felt a chill. Yes. This could be very bad. He wished he could communicate that to Aragorn, but it was becoming more and more of a struggle to remain conscious and keep his feet.
There was a long silence, then Theoden asking in puzzlement, and fear, "Where is my son?" Ardeth raised his eyes to look at Legolas, who sighed and lowered his eyes. That was all the answer Ardeth needed. But the expression on the lovely young girl's face verified it. He wasn't the only one who noticed her expression. Theoden looked at her, asking gently, "Eowyn? Dearest niece. . .where is he? Where is my son?"
"Dead, my lord," Eowyn choked out, "he died of injuries suffered in an orc attack just this morning, after lingering for some days." Theoden's face was ashen, but he stepped forward and took his niece into his arms. Ardeth felt for the girl. She was obviously close to her cousin. He tried to imagine comforting Celia if she was to ever lose either of her brothers, and shuddered. Losing Galen or Jason would devastate his wife. Just as much as losing Anatol, Acacia, or Aleta would devastate him. It was too painful to imagine.
"Perhaps Gandalf could accompany Theoden King to his son's grave. . .I believe Ardeth needs to rest," Legolas suggested diplomatically. All eyes turned toward the young elf, including the king's. The elven prince inclined his head to Theoden, saying, "Forgive me for failing to introduce myself. I am Legolas Greenleaf, of Mirkwood. You know Gandalf. The Man is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and the dwarf is Gimli, son of Gloin. Our friend is Ardeth Bey, from a distant place. He has been a valuable ally." Gimli, who tried so hard to keep his suspicion from Ardeth, nodded vehemently.
Gandalf, standing behind Theoden, winked at Legolas in a conspiratorial manner, indicating he was quite pleased with Legolas. Theoden approached the two, looking at them almost critically. However, when he spoke, it was to Ardeth. He said quietly, "You have the look of the Easterlings about you, Ardeth Bey. How did you come to be traveling with my old friend, and why do they regard you as an ally?"
"He was drawn here from his own place by Saruman's sorcery. That is how he came to be here. As for the why. . .he was almost fatally injured while protecting two small Halflings. And, he fought alongside Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli against those loyal to Wormtongue while I freed you," Gandalf answered. There was no real reproach in his voice, and that made his words all the more painful. The king looked away.
"He looks on the verge of swooning! Bring him inside, and I will see to him," Eowyn exclaimed. Her voice sounded as if it came from a great distance, and Ardeth felt his legs give way. But even as he lapsed into darkness, Legolas was there to catch him, and gently lowered him to the ground. Then the world went mercifully black, and there was no more pain for a time.
. . .
As Aragorn hurried to help Legolas carry Ardeth back inside the Hall, an entirely different set of people were on a journey of their own. It was early morning, the best time to be traveling in late summer Egypt. Not that this particularly pleased Rick O'Connell. True, it got them out of the worst of the heat, but he had no wish to travel anywhere with Imhotep. He didn't trust the guy. . .and he never would.
On the other hand, as a Med-jai, Rick was bound to obey the requests of the Med-jai queen. And it wasn't the first time he worked with Imhotep for Ardeth's sake. He still didn't trust him, though. And curiously, he realized that Imhotep didn't trust him, either. Oh, well. Everyone had their little problems today, now didn't they? Right now, Rick's main concern was finding his best friend and seeing if they could bring him home.
A little ahead of them, Evy rode, a broad, floppy hat protecting her from the rising heat of the desert. And as incongruous as it looked, Anck seemed to be riding behind her. That made no sense. She could have simply appeared at their destination. She was a ghost, after all. She had no corporeal body, as Rick sometimes forgot. But instead, she was here, riding with them. Why she did that, Rick had no idea. He had no idea why she did anything. However, he couldn't deny. . .at least not any longer. . .that she almost always had Ardeth or Celia's best interests at heart. Or maybe even always.
That didn't mean he forgave her for what she did to his family. She put them all through hell. And all right, maybe it was Meela who stabbed Evy at Ahm Shere. Imhotep, Celia, and Ardeth certainly thought so, and while Rick didn't trust the guy, he also knew that Imhotep had reason to be suspicious of her. She left him to die. Left him to the Underworld. But he seemed convinced that Meela was the guilty party.
Evy seemed to agree, for her head turned slightly every few minutes, reacting to something Anck said. Rick couldn't hear what she said, but he could see her lips moving. And ever so often, he could even see her smile. What a strange idea. Evy and Anck, actually agreeing on something, and even laughing together. Something that could have never happened during the first time with the magic circle.
Anck was now looking at Evy *as* Evy, instead of as Nefertiri. The ghost freely admitted that she resented Nefertiri. Some of that was due to Nefertiri shutting out both Anck and Ardath, even before Anck began her affair with Imhotep. Now, Anck understood that Nefertiri sensed Ardath didn't have long to live, and she feared letting down her guard. She feared growing to care for Ardath, only to watch her die.
The caves came into view, and Rick's heart rate picked up. Here was where it happened. Here was where he betrayed his best friend. There was a part of him which half-expected Lady Ardath to show up and demand to know why he didn't fight harder, why he didn't protect her child. Imhotep said, as if hearing his thoughts, "If Lady Ardath has not shown herself, then she agrees with the little queen that you were not at fault."
Rick looked over at the other man, who added, "I made the mistake of underestimating Lady Ardath, and I misjudged her terribly. But this always I knew. She protected what was hers. Whether it was Rameses or Anck-su- namun, it never mattered. She was a protector at heart. It should not have surprised me, that Ardeth Bey was her descendent. They are very much alike."
That startled Rick, who never thought about similarities between his friend and Lady Ardath. The high priest went on, "With the veils removed from my eyes, O'Connell, I can see many things. Ardeth is the reincarnation of Rameses, tiyu, but he is also the many-times grandson of Lady Ardath. Something I will never again allow myself to forget. Just like his namesake, Ardeth protects what is his. And he has a much broader focus of what 'his' entails."
Rick said nothing at first, as he didn't know what to say. He still didn't like Imhotep, he still didn't trust him. But at the same time, he couldn't argue with the high priest. Imhotep was right, and it was annoying the hell out of Rick. He said finally, "I guess, I get so used to thinking of Celia as Lady Ardath's reincarnation, I forget that the Lady was also Ardeth's actual ancestor."
"Do you remember, O'Connell? Do you have a memory of Terumun? In the years before the Med-jai were exiled? Before Seti's death? The clash between Rameses and Moses?" Imhotep asked. Rick blinked. Actually, he did remember, though he didn't realize the confrontation was between Rameses and Moses. Imhotep continued, "He was always something of a hothead, Moses was. Rameses was even worse, of course."
That, Rick remembered rather well. There was a rivalry between Rameses and Moses that turned dark after Ardath's murder. Many things about the young prince turned dark, without the loving influence of his concubine. Imhotep continued, "Rameses and Seti were prepared to let the Hebrew slaves go. Rameses never forgot, you see, that his Ardath was raised by the Hebrews. He never forgave their god, for allowing her to die. But that was separate."
"And then," Rick murmured almost numbly, "Moses lost his temper. He insulted Ardath's memory, and told Rameses that her death was advance punishment of Rameses' wickedness. It was punishment for her, too, for loving Rameses. That was when Rameses swore the Israelites would never leave." He remembered. He remembered having to hold Rameses back, or the prince would have cut Moses down where he stood.
Imhotep was holding onto him on the other side. But neither of them thought to restrain Anck-su-namun. Pharaoh's favorite mistress flew into a rage and attacked Moses. Seti was the only one with the presence of mind to pull her back. Rick said then, "It was the only time Seti ever admitted openly that he loved Ardath. He told Moses that he did a very foolish thing by insulting his beloved daughter. That insulting Ardath was as bad as insulting Nefertiri."
Imhotep was silent, then said softly, "Strange. I forgot that. Or perhaps, more appropriately, I never allowed myself to remember. But he did say that." There was another long silence, then Imhotep went on, "I wonder how many other things about Seti I have forced myself to forget. Time does strange things to a memory. Do you know, O'Connell, how the Med- jai protected little Ardeth from the curse of the first-born?"
"I do," Rick said with a faint smile, "some of the slaves came and told them how to protect the boy. Some of the Hebrews whom Ardath protected and helped while she was alive. Secondly, Shakir and Paziyah put temporary warding tattoos on his face. These same Israelites went to Rameses' bedchamber that night and painted the protective sigil in lamb's blood."
He offered Imhotep a sardonic smile, adding, "Seems they felt they would be betraying Ardath's memory if they allowed the man she loved die. They were caught between Moses and Rameses, and their desire to remain true to one of their own." Imhotep shook his head, and Rick asked softly, "Why do you think Ardeth was taken?"
"I do not know," Imhotep admitted honestly, "but I can tell you why I would take him. He is a brave and determined warrior. He is a proud and honorable man. You described the man who took him as evil. Someone to surpass me, even at my worst. Thinking as I did, under the influence of the hom-dai. . .I would take him, for the pleasure of turning an honorable, good man into something dark and twisted."
"But you didn't. You could have tried to turn Alex, could have made him into something ugly. The way he tells it, there were times you. . .protected him. Especially from Lock-nah," Rick observed. He didn't like admitting it. It went against the grain. . . almost as badly as it went against the grain to join forces with Imhotep the first time around. And every time since then. But Rick O'Connell was nothing if not honest.
"He was a child. A child who did nothing to me, save putting on the Bracelet of Anpu. What honor is there is harming an innocent child? Because he was Nefertiri's son? I did not realize that at the time. And even if I did. . .he was not even born at the time of Seti's death. As for Lock-nah? Lock-nah was a coward. A swaggering bully who swore allegiance to me, without understanding what I desired," Imhotep answered.
It was a strange conversation to being having, but Rick came to expect such strange things, especially while he was in Egypt. The American asked softly, "And what did you desire? My death? My wife's death? World domination? World destruction? What did you want, Imhotep?" It was the first time he ever asked such a question. The first time he ever looked at his odd companion as a human being. . .as a man.
"Niy. I wanted none of those things. I only wanted them, because I believed that was the only way I could love Anck-su-namun in peace. I never realized how right I was when I told Meela that she was only Anck-su- namun's reincarnation in body. Meela looked like my princess, but she was incapable of loving. And Anck-su-namun? Her greatest sins came about because of her fierce love," Imhotep replied.
There was a quiet sigh from the other man, then he explained, "I never realized, until my final rising, O'Connell. You only stood against me, because I threatened what was yours. Had I left Evelyn and Alexander alone, you would have never fought me. And the past. . .something the little queen once told me repeats in my head. Long did I hate Nefertiri for calling out to the Med-jai. But. . .what else would she do? We were killing her father. . .betraying her father."
What might have been. Even after two years, those scenarios shown to him by Lady Ardath could give Rick nightmares. What if? Finally, the American said softly, "Things happened for a reason. That's what you're telling me. You think there's a reason Ardeth was taken by that slimebag. You think there's a specific reason why he was allowed to take him. There's something he supposed to do."
Imhotep nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the American. Great. Rick was afraid he would say something like that. As Anck slipped to the ground (appeared there?), and Evy swung down from her horse, the American sighed, "Just as long as the crazy Med-jai doesn't get himself killed in the meantime." Imhotep merely raised an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Rick all but growled, "Not a word out of you, or I'll kick your immortal ass clear to San Francisco."
"As I told your son, when he said more or less the same thing. . .I do not think so!" came the answer. Rick rolled his eyes and followed the immortal into the caves. Because, of course, the women were already inside. Of course. They couldn't wait!
. . .
The first thing Evelyn O'Connell noticed as they reached the caves. . .the entrance once more looked the way it did when they first saw it. Anck- su-namun whispered in ancient Egyptian, "What is it?" Knowing that her former rival could read her mind, could hear her thoughts, Evy projected an image as the cavern entrance as she saw it. . .but the first time, and the second. Anck inhaled sharply (though how she did that without lungs, Evy still didn't know), and murmured, "I understand."
"I'm glad one of us does," Evy answered in English with a sigh, dismounting. Anck appeared at her side, and the pair ventured into the caves. Everything was exactly as Evy and Rick left it the previous day, when they returned to tell Celia what happened. Anck gave her a tentative smile as Evy lit a torch. The Englishwoman said softly, "I thank you for coming with me, Anck-su-namun. I know you would have preferred to remain with Celia."
"Sennefer. . .I mean, Garai. . .and Altair will take care of her while we are here," came the unexpected reply, "and I know I am where she wishes me to be. If I can do anything to help bring Ardeth home, I will do it." The pair continued along in silence until they reached the chamber where Ardeth was taken. The structures were still there, and Evy took a deep breath. She could still see it in her mind. . .all of it. Anck shuddered, though she was merely a spirit, and whispered, "I can feel the evil in this place. It is cold. Just as Meela was."
It was a strange comment to make, and Evy looked at her companion. Anck looked back, and for a moment, Evy knew that the princess was seeing Nefertiri, her rival. Then her eyes cleared, and Evy knew that Anck was seeing Evelyn O'Connell. The ghost said softly, "It was so strange. . .two souls in one body, though I hesitate to say Meela even had a soul. She was so cold, Evelyn. So very cold. She enjoyed causing pain. Just like Lock- nah."
Evy didn't speak, sensing that this was something Anck needed to say. In the last two years, there were few times when they actually spoke without Celia there to keep the peace. Just in case. The princess continued, "It took me a long time to separate myself from Meela, even after we both perished. Celia has told me often that it was Meela who killed you, but it was hard to separate my resentment of Nefertiri from Meela's hatred."
"You resented her, I don't believe you hated her," Evy interposed. Anck gave her a weary smile, and Evy continued, "I never really thought about what it must have been like for you, Meela and Anck in one body. It was different for me. Nefertiri came back with me, because she knew I would need her. But I was in control. In some ways, your resurrection into Meela was something like a violation."
Anck stared at her in shock, then lowered her eyes. She said softly, "I did not think anyone else would understand. Or that anyone would even think about that. The. . .I did not wish to think so. After everything Imhotep did for me, to bring me back to life. But you are right. Nefertiri joined with you willingly, to protect you. She might not understand you, but you are part of her, and she would not allow you to face me alone."
"And Ardath never truly went away. She was always there, with the others, in the back of Celia's mind, just waiting for the right time to ask her permission. She could not go, not until Rameses was ready to go with her. In a way, she was just as much a ghost as you are," Evy said thoughtfully as she knelt in front of the structures which served as a portal to drag her brother away from them.
"Tiyu," Anck admitted, "but she also stayed, once she was awakened, to protect Celia. Just as Nefertiri was there to protect you." There was a brief silence, then Anck continued, "At Ahm Shere, control of our body kept passing back and forth between us. You must believe me, Evelyn. I *never* wished to kill you. Not you. Not Nefertiri. Not at Ahm Shere, and not at Hamunaptra. It was. . .you blinded me, you see? The light that was your soul and your life. . .it blinded me, and it hurt!"
There was raw pain in the concubine's voice now. Evy thought about Hamunaptra and trying to fight off Anck-su-namun's animated mummy. And she thought she understood. Anck continued, "Ardath was always the strong one. I lashed out and she soothed. I could only find comfort from her and Imhotep. As Pharaoh's daughter, you never knew about the cruelty among the concubines, the constant plots for power. I wanted no such power, only love. And I never dreamed that Seti was just a lonely old man who also needed to be loved."
Anck took a deep breath, then released it. She looked at Evelyn straight on, saying softly, "He was a soldier first, you see. The son of a soldier, and in our time, there was seldom room for compassion in soldiers, save to their own wives and children. He treated Nefertiri with such tenderness. Perhaps that was why I resented her so. Had he treated me with even a little of the tenderness he showed her. . ."
"But he thought you didn't need it. You never showed him that you were just as vulnerable as Nefertiri or Ardath. His daughters. You remember when Moses insulted her memory? Nefertiri was there, too, Anck-su- namun. Do you remember how Seti had to hold you back, and how you wept afterward?" Evy asked softly. Anck lowered her eyes once more, but Evy had to continue, "He held you, Anck, and caressed your hair. He held you with such tenderness, it made Nefertiri's throat ache to see."
"I remember. Evelyn . . .I am trying to say . . .I did not wield the dagger that ended your life, however briefly. But I am sorry for it. I suppose I am saying this now, because I fear I cannot do anything to help Ardeth, not alone. I will need your help, and I wish everything to be said. So that we may concentrate on Ardeth, and no unfinished business between us," Anck-su-namun said earnestly.
Evelyn looked at the spirit kneeling beside her. She was different from the Anck-su-namun she knew as Nefertiri. Partly because while she had Nefertiri's memories, she was Evelyn. And partly because death freed Anck. Anck, she saw now, was never truly evil. Just a loving friend and sister who lost her way. Just as Nefertiri's own brother lost his way. Evelyn placed her hand where Anck's shoulder would have been, were she alive, and said softly, in ancient Egyptian, "You are forgiven."
They might never be friends. But for two years, they were allies and shared common ground in many ways. They would both do anything for the people they loved most in the world. Evy was told that Anck swore she would not be reborn until Celia and Ardeth was. With that in mind, the reincarnated princess told her former rival in the ancient tongue, "Perhaps in our next life, we will be friends." A smile lit the face of her companion.
"But for now," Anck replied in the same language, "let us see what we can do to free our brother." Evy nodded, smiling at this reference to Ardeth. As Rick and Imhotep joined them, the Englishwoman could only shake her head. He truly was an amazing man, her brother reborn. Only he could draw two sets of mortal enemies together as a team. As members of the royal family and their high priest, Nefertiri, Rameses, Anck-su-namun and Imhotep learned spells. But it was Ardeth who performed the greatest magic. Not with spells, not with incantations. . .but with love.
. . .
For the first time in more than three thousand years, Imhotep, high priest of Osiris, was actually nervous. This was. . .beyond anything he attempted before, and all through the ride he was racking his braincase for spells that would help to open the portal. And to top it all off, he was riding with his enemy, Rick O'Connell. Terumun was only his enemy at the end, but not even remembering that could make him like the annoying, brash American.
On the other hand, no matter how much he hated O'Connell, and O'Connell hated him, Imhotep knew that neither of them would do anything to further jeopardize Ardeth's life or their mission. Firstly, because neither could forgive themselves if anything happened to Ardeth because of their rivalry, arrogance, or stupidity. Secondly, they both knew that if they let their dislike of each other get in the way, Celia would kick their respective posteriors, and her two best friends would help her do it.
Celia. The little queen never failed to amaze him. 'Have done,' she told him in the Council Hall, using phraseology not heard for centuries. It was Celia's voice and accent, but he didn't doubt that Lady Ardath remained within her. He misjudged the young concubine, misjudged her terribly, and it was a mistake he didn't intend to repeat with her reincarnation. Celia was small, and appeared fragile.
Vulnerable, she was. Fragile, she was not. And only a fool would mistake her for weak. Many a time, especially after her beloved forever friend was murdered, Anck-su-namun told him that Ardath was always the strong one. She drew her strength from her forever friend, but Imhotep never understood. He was young and foolish, and mistook brute force for true strength.
Looking back now, he realized that Lady Ardath's accusation inside Hamunaptra, that he failed Rameses, failed to keep his promise to look after Rameses, was painfully accurate. He betrayed his friend, betrayed his promise, betrayed every vow he ever uttered. And yet, it was because of that failure that she broke the hom-dai. So long as that cycle was repeated, Imhotep could never atone for what he did.
It was that understanding, too, which allowed him to have compassion for the Med-jai of today. They truly were just as much victims of the hom- dai as Imhotep himself. Now the only hatred that remained in his heart, were for the Med-jai of his own time, the ones who condemned him in the first place. Hamadi Bey, and Khaldun. Imhotep bore no hatred for the entire Bey family. They, in fact, were the only ones whom he trusted in this new time.
No, he hated only Hamadi Bey. Unfortunately, it was becoming harder for Imhotep as well. Did not Imhotep lash out when he was hurting and angry and guilt-ridden, just as Hamadi Bey did? Would not Imhotep have the exact same thing, were the positions reversed? If someone under his protection was killed, and one of the murderers was intent on resurrecting the others. . .would he not have been equally ruthless?
It was a struggle for Imhotep to balance his remaining hatred of the long-ago Med-jai captain with the compassion he was re-discovering. Before the casting of the hom-dai, Hamadi Bey was an honorable man, albeit a hidebound one. A man who kept too many secrets and knew far too much, but an honorable man nonetheless. He and Imhotep didn't like each other, but they respected each other.
Perhaps that was what hurt so much. Not just the physical pain and torment of the casting of the hom-dai, but the knowledge that it was a man whom he respected who was casting the curse. Imhotep wondered if Hamadi Bey, or any of his reincarnations, ever felt any remorse for that long-ago injustice. He wondered if the Med-jai captain regretted the decision he made before being disemboweled.
And Khaldun. Imhotep's heart hardened at the thought of his long- dead nemesis. There would never be forgiveness in him, not for that one. Not after everything he did. He was the one most responsible for the casting of the hom-dai, he who used the Med-jai to achieve his evil ends. Imhotep didn't pretend to be an innocent, when it came to using people. But he protected Alex O'Connell while the child traveled with him, he protected the boy from Lock-nah. And what Khaldun did to the Med-jai was a violation.
Then again, Khaldun was good at violating people. He did it to the Med-jai of their time, he did it to Ardeth, and he did it to O'Connell. In that time, Imhotep saw good even in people he disliked. He saw no good in Khaldun. He was responsible not only for Ardath's murder, but for her miscarriage in the fifth month of her pregnancy. Tiyu, Imhotep did not like her or respect her in those days. But he would wish such grief on no woman, least of all the woman his best friend loved. He never forgot what losing that child did to Rameses, nor did he forget what losing Ardath did to the prince. And that was what brought him here today, to this place and this time. He still owed this line a great deal. Some payment was rendered. . .but not enough.
"It was here, where it happened," Evelyn O'Connell said. Imhotep looked at the structures she indicated, and barely suppressed a shudder. They spoke the truth then. He could feel the evil emanating from the 'towers,' as they were called. Evelyn continued, her voice trembling, "Look there. You can see where he was dragged. You can see. . ." She stopped, her voice failing her.
Imhotep did look. . .and he could see, too, where Ardeth was dragged across the sandy floor of the caverns. The marks left by his fingers as he fought his abductor, the outline of his body, the outline of the American's body as he fought to keep Ardeth here, where he belonged. Imhotep could see it all, and his jaw tightened. The hom-dai was removed, but many of the powers remained, along with his immortality.
A sound drew his attention away from the tracks, and he looked at the source of the sound. Anck-su-namun. She was staring at those same tracks, and tears were coursing down her cheeks. She was crying. Anck-su-namun was crying. Imhotep stared at her, feeling nigh to fainting with that revelation. What did she see that he did not? What did she see that he *could* not? He was the Keeper of the Dead. . .and she remained in the world of the living.
"I can see him, Evelyn. I can see him. He fell into a place of strange creatures. . . with lush green grass and towering trees," she whispered. She wiped absently at her tears, as if she was only vaguely aware of them. Evelyn stepped closer, almost protective in her stance. Evelyn. Reincarnation of Nefertiri. Behaving in a protective manner toward Anck-su-namun. Either the world was going mad or Imhotep was.
"What else do you see, Anck-su-namun?" Evelyn asked softly, switching between English and ancient Egyptian without really thinking about it. O'Connell was also staring at Anck-su-namun. He looked as lost as Imhotep felt, and in that moment, the high priest realized that was probably why Celia sent them both. Give them common ground. Damn her. Damn her for being so determined. Damn Ardeth for being taken and putting him in this position.
He would have damned Anck-su-namun, Evelyn and Richard O'Connell as well, and anyone else who crossed his mind, but Anck-su-namun was answering Evelyn's question. In a trembling voice, she answered, "He is hurt, so badly. Broken ribs. . .a stab wound from one of the monsters. But still he fights. . .he cannot turn aside while those who are small and helpless are in danger. He fights. . .and draws the wrath of he who took him from us. He fights, and wins four allies, friends to the small ones he protected."
Imhotep felt an icy finger tracing his spine. How did she know this? How could she possibly know this? As soon as the question was thought, the answer provided itself. Anck-su-namun was dead. . .yet she did not reside in the Afterlife, or in the Underworld. Her vision was not limited to their world. Combined with the few spells and incantations she learned as the mistress, then later the chosen bride of Seti. . .now he began to understand the kind of vision she possessed. At the same time, Evelyn began chanting, and Imhotep did not recognize the language. It was not ancient Egyptian. It was not Arabic. Nor was it English.
That icy finger returned as he realized that Evelyn was calling upon the memories of another lifetime. Cold spread through his body, when O'Connell began to chant with her. But that was nothing compared to the terror he felt when there was an image. Between the two 'towers.' The image first showed a man. . .an ancient man, with long white hair and a white beard that was almost as long. The man whom the O'Connells saw. The source of the evil.
A familiar sensation battled the ice, and warmed Imhotep. He embraced it, for the familiar burn of hatred was almost comforting. Between the two women, Imhotep's world was once more turned upside down. He never guessed that Anck-su-namun could see as far as she did. Nor did it ever occur to him that Evelyn lived other lifetimes, aside from Princess Nefertiri.
The picture changed, now showing Ardeth battling misshapen figures that resembled men, and yet were not. Imhotep watched in horror as one such figure drove his knife into Ardeth's unprotected abdomen. A rough moan of protest and anger was drawn from O'Connell, but Imhotep barely paid attention. For though he was badly wounded, still, the Med-jai chieftain fought. . .just as Anck-su-namun said.
Now Ardeth was no longer alone, but accompanied by four others. A man, who bore a strange resemblance to the Med-jai chieftain, held Ardeth in front of him on a horse. Ardeth was half-conscious, and the dark-haired stranger carried Ardeth's weight willingly. There was another very old man, with a white beard almost as long as his hair, but Imhotep felt no evil from this man. Only a determination to stop the evil one.
A young blond-haired man, appearing to be the age of Celia's younger brother Jason, rode with a second, much smaller figure. A second look told Imhotep that it was a dwarf. No evil came from either of these figures, either. Imhotep realized that the young blond man was much older than he appeared. . .and that the dwarf was a fierce fighter. Then the picture winked out and Anck-su-namun exhaled slowly.
"Well. . ." O'Connell said into the silence that followed, his arm shooting out to steady his swaying wife, "it wasn't a total failure. We did see into this other world. We know who took Ardeth, and we know that he has people looking after him." O'Connell started to say more, but fell silent. Instead, he occupied himself by fussing over his wife.
"We learned one other thing, O'Connell," Imhotep stated with grim pleasure. The other three in the cave looked at him, and the high priest continued, "We know the name of our enemy. The one who took Ardeth from his home is called 'Saruman.' We know the name of the enemy, and we know his purpose in taking Ardeth. We cannot rescue him. . .but we know more than when we arrived here. It has not been a failure at all."
Privately, Imhotep marked that name. Saruman. He who made Imhotep look like a Sunday school teacher, to borrow Jonathan's phrase. When Ardeth was safely home, Imhotep would make sure Saruman was as reviled as Khaldun. . .as reviled as Imhotep before the hom-dai was broken. Though he was remembering compassion, Imhotep still could be ruthless. Saruman harmed someone for whom Imhotep cared. For him, there would be no compassion.