Disclaimer: Any characters you recognize do not belong to the authors. Some of the ideas were inspired by Xanthia Morgan's wonderful fic, Brother of My Soul.

Archiving: Please ask first!

A/N: This story is coauthored by Rina and Shade—we hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed—your reviews encourage us to edit faster! We apologize for not putting this up sooner—lots and lots of RL problems and adventures. However, we will not abandon this story! It is completely written, we are just working on the editing part.

Enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Seven: Bandages and Breakfast

Rick watched the scene from a distance. He hung his head in relief. Ardeth was not hurt; the Red Guard had surrendered. It seemed as though they might actually survive to see the dawn. He was almost afraid to think of it, for fear that he could somehow jinx the possibility by celebrating their good fortune.

Kicking the guard's scimitar into the shadows, Ardeth moved back a step. "Get up," he ordered, keeping his own blade ready in case if the man tried anything.

The Red Guard rolled his eyes, looking down at his legs still tangled in his robes. He moved his hands to unwrap them slowly.

Discreetly, Ardeth wiped the blood off of his left hand onto his robes, and then brought that hand up to help support his scimitar. It was difficult to hold it steady like this. Now that he was no longer battling for his life, the boy's adrenaline was fading, and the growing exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm him.

It bothered Rick to see his friend so exhausted. He wanted to step forward to ensure that this guard didn't try to pull anything, but he wasn't sure if that might inflame him further. After a moment, he decided to reveal himself. That way if something did happen, he'd be there to have Ardeth's back.

"My friend," Ardeth greeted him with a slight smile and nod. "Are you well?" the younger boy asked, keeping his attention focused on his newest prisoner.

"Quite," he replied, pleasantly. "And yourself?" He didn't want to ask Ardeth directly if he was alright while they were still in front of the guard leader. He would wait until later when it wouldn't be as much of a hazard to show weariness.

"I am well." Ardeth scowled at the temple guard when the man finally managed to get to his feet. "Lead the way--we're going back to the museum."

The two boys followed the sopping-wet Red Guard back to the museum. Both kept their weapons raised, ready to strike if he behaved suspiciously in the least. Rick had to fight to resist the urge to poke their captive in the back occasionally with his spear.

"Do you know of any sturdy closets in the museum without anything dangerous in them, my friend?" Ardeth asked as they walked, the tip of his scimitar dipping slightly.

"Yeah," Rick said, describing one just inside the back room where all the cleaning supplies were kept. In quiet tones, he leaned in to speak to Ardeth so that the guard couldn't hear. "We could place a sarcophagus at the door, and he wouldn't be going anywhere."

The younger boy nodded. "We should do that." He lowered his voice as well. "I'm not going to be able to stay upright for much longer."

"I thought as much." Once they got to the museum, Dr. Bey and the boys herded their prisoners into the closet, locking and barricading the door so they wouldn't have to worry about them escaping. As soon as they were done pushing the sarcophagus back into place, they moved all the bodies of the dead guards behind the building. Dr. Bey and Rick both insisted that Ardeth rest while they dug the hole and then buried the corpses in one mass grave. As soon as they had finished, Rick collapsed to sit beside Ardeth while they watched Terrence recite a spell that was supposed to shield their bodies from being brought back to life. O'Connell turned and looked at his friend. "So how are you doing? Really?"

"We came very close to disaster. I don't think we could handle that many mummies with just blade weapons. I hate mummies," Ardeth confessed quietly. He was sitting on the stairs, watching his uncle work, shivering lightly.

"Yeah, I don't think they like you either," he said smiling. "So I figure, you've gotta be doing something right." Then he paused before continuing. "You are going to be a great king to your people."

"I thank you, my friend." With an effort, the younger boy straightened slightly, taking a deep breath to combat the light-headedness. "How is it that you managed to avoid getting your throat slit during that fight? I was terrified that I had caused your death."

Rick winced as he stretched his arm; it was still sore from the grip the guard had placed on it combined with the effort it took for him to break free. Rick took off the bracer he wore over his right wrist. "A long time ago, probably just after being beat up by that guy you ran into this morning, I started carrying a dagger hidden under this." He turned it over to show Ardeth where he had attached the sheath to keep it concealed. "I was lucky that there are so many weapons in that room. I took him down, grabbed a spear and fought my way free while they were still recovering from the shock." He shook his head, marveling at his own good fortune, and knowing that someday he would outlive it.

"I am certainly impressed. Someone must be watching out for you." Dr. Bey finished the spell to bind the bodies to eternal sleep, and turned to the two boys sitting on the stairs.

"All right, boys, back to my office."

Wearily, the two walked ahead of Dr. Bey as he took them back up to this office. Rick was tempted to tell Dr. Bey that he sick of being in his office but held his tongue the second that it occurred to him that such a statement might remind them of their idea to send him back to the orphanage.

Ardeth dropped gracefully onto the blankets, barely able to keep his eyes open now. "G'night," he mumbled, turning to lie on his left side, but gasping in pain and rolling onto his right.

Immediately, Rick was awake and alert again. He and Dr. Bey almost bumped heads as they rushed to Ardeth's side. At Terrence's request, Rick lit a lamp and brought it over. "What happened to you?" he said as he knelt beside his friend.

Ardeth blinked up at them, managing to look sleepy, confused, and innocent. "Nothing happened to me--well, besides that huge fight we were just in. I am fine."

Liar! Rick was accusing in his mind, but his voice stayed calm if at least grim. "You're not fooling anyone, buddy." He locked eyes with Bey. Terrence too knew that act; Ardeth's father had done it he was at that age. "Ardeth," he spoke his name firmly, tone clearly indicating that he wasn't buying it either.

The boy sighed heavily. "I got a scratch when I was reading the incantation from the plaque. It's fine--I just forgot about it and bumped it."

"Scratch," Rick scoffed, "yeah, I know what that means." He moved the light so that Dr. Bey could get a better look at it. Rick froze, his heart rising into his throat, as he could now see Ardeth's sleeve reflecting the lamplight. A good deal of his left sleeve was soaked with his own blood. His uncle cut it aside with a small knife so he could better examine the wound.

Ardeth lay quietly, too exhausted to continue arguing. He sighed softly when his uncle cut the sleeve of his robe--that would be a pain to fix, since his cousins were still too mad at him to help him out with his mending.

It was a deep cut almost, making it all the way down to the bone. Rick spent most of the next few minutes running back and forth to get items, Dr. Bey would need to cleanse and dress the wound. Once Ardeth's arm was stitched up and bandaged, Dr. Bey left a drink behind from his medical kit for Ardeth to take and a salve to clean the wound again in six hours to help prevent infections. Placing the prince in Rick's charge, he left the two of them in the room once again locking the door behind them. "Well," Rick thought aloud wearily as he sat down and leaned back against Dr. Bey's desk, "this has been quite a day."

"Bet you never expected this when you woke up this morning," Ardeth told him with a slight smile. He contemplated the healing potion, scowling at it.

Rick laughed and shook his head. "Not exactly this, no." Then he noticed Ardeth's reaction to the potion. "You know, your uncle has given me permission to make you take that. And right now, I'm not so sure I couldn't take you."

Ardeth looked pleadingly up at the older boy. "They taste worse than camel's breath smells! I'll heal fine on my own--please, just dump it out the window!"

Rick gave him a stern look. "Ardeth."

The younger boy actually pouted at him for a moment, before very deliberately rolling onto his side facing the wall, ignoring the medicine.

Rick rolled his eyes. "Look being your friend means I'd rather you have a bad taste in your mouth than your arm falling off. Besides, how would it sound to your family if some street rat pinned you to the carpet and poured it down your throat with your uncle's blessing?"

Glancing cautiously over his shoulder, the black-haired boy met Rick's eyes. "How do you plan to tell them?"

Rick grinned challengingly. "Your uncle. He can include it in the note to your father to fake your arrival to the city."

Ardeth scowled at him. "That's blackmail, you know," he murmured, starting to loose the fight to stay awake.

"Yes, it is," Rick's smile was wicked.

Ardeth blinked sleepily at him, too exhausted to even be alarmed by the expression on Rick's face. "I'll drink it . . . later," the boy mumbled, around a yawn.

"Now," he insisted, picking it up from the table and placing it in Ardeth's hands. He knew that 'later' trick, he had pulled it a few times himself with Father Duncan, or tried to anyways.

Wincing slightly, the boy shifted the broad cup so that he was holding it in only his right hand, pulling his left arm closer to his chest. "Ow,"

Rick gripped the glass with one hand until he was sure Ardeth had a better grasp on it. Rick's face darkened slightly. He felt responsible for his arm. Otherwise he might not have been so strict about the potion. I shouldn't have left him, he thought to himself.

Taking a deep breath, Ardeth swallowed the potion in one go, gagging at the taste. A moment later he lay still, and frowned up at Rick. "What's the matter, my friend?" he asked, putting the empty cup on the floor.

"Nothing," Rick lied. His friend was exhausted and needed his rest. He didn't need to be troubling him with this right now.

Ardeth narrowed his eyes at Rick, and grabbed the older boy's wrist with his good arm. "I'm not going to go to sleep until you tell me what's wrong," he threatened, around another yawn.

Rick bowed his head. "You wouldn't have been injured if I hadn't left you behind."

Blinking at him, the younger boy tried to figure this out. "Wait--if you hadn't pulled away all but two of the guards so that I had a chance to get and read that plaque, I wouldn't have gotten hurt?"

"I should have been there for you. I could have doubled back to help you but I thought we might need another diversion, so I stayed to keep an eye on the temple guards."

"And I'm very glad you did. The only reason I got hurt was because I was careless. I knew the other guard was there, and I chose to focus on reading the incantation. If this," he held up his bandaged arm. "is the only price we paid for preventing the creatures from being woken up, then it is well worth it."

Rick smiled slightly. Ardeth was right, it was a small price to pay and still be alive. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"Your welcome. Now, are you going to sleep? Because I certainly am ready for sleep." Ardeth squeezed Rick's wrist once more before letting go, and settling further into the blankets.

Rick followed suit. It had been a very long day, and this little adventure wasn't over yet. He was asleep within seconds.

At dawn the next morning, both boys woke to the undulating call to worship echoing through the still air. Ardeth rolled onto his back and blinked at the ceiling, trying to figure out where he was and why he was so sore.

Rick swatted his hand at the air for a second as he would normally do when he was tired trying to shoo away whoever was waking him up. But as soon as Ardeth moved, he moved as quickly as he could, trying desperately to find the sword he had used the night before. In his sleepiness he was convinced that they were still in danger.

When Rick started flailing around, Ardeth quickly rolled away, snatching his scimitar from beside the blankets, and looked around for a threat. Unable to find anything wrong, the boy frowned at Rick. "What's wrong, my friend?"

The sound of Ardeth's voice helped pull him closer to consciousness. He saw Ardeth and he seemed a little confused but alright. And a quick scan of the room told him there were no mummies or red guards in the room to threaten their lives. Rick let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Ok, no bad guys." He settled from his crouch to sit on the floor leaning up against the desk.

Laughing quietly, Ardeth put his scimitar back down, and settled back onto the blankets. "A little jumpy this morning?" he asked, carefully pulling his shredded sleeve away from his arm and inspecting the bandage.

"After the night we had last night, I'm surprised you aren't. How's your arm doing this morning?"

"It's a little sore, but not bad. Toss me that salve, will you?" Ardeth asked, gently loosening the bandage and unwrapping his arm. The stitches were all still intact, and the cut didn't look like it was infected at all.

Rick brought over the salve and handed to Ardeth. He noticed with some relief that clean and in the light of day, it looked a good deal better than it had when they had discovered it yesterday.

Absently opening the top of the small jar, Ardeth dipped his fingers into the salve and smeared it over the cut, wincing slightly when he touched the stitches. With the sleeve of his tunic cut back, the tattoos on his wrist were clearly visible.

Rick looked at them fascinated. "Whoa, how many of those do you have, buddy?"

Ardeth's smile was wry. "Not very many, yet." He finished applying the salve, and then considered the bandage. "As I get older, I'll receive many more markings."

"Yet?" Rick looked at his friend in disbelief. He only had one, and that had been painful enough. He couldn't imagine having as many as Ardeth, let alone "many more."

"Part of the tradition of my people is to use tattoos to mark the important events in the lives of the king. Since I am not yet king, I mostly have only the tribal markings." Ardeth explained, as he started trying to wrap the bandage around his arm.

"Oh. Here let me give you a hand with that," Rick said as he reached for the bandage. "So why doesn't your uncle have any?"

"Well, the markings are distinct to our tribe. It would defeat the purpose to send out a man to blend in with the outside world, learning about it, when he is so thoroughly marked. He does have this, however," Ardeth said, indicating the tattoo compass.

Rick nodded. It made sense. He leaned in looking at the tattoo on Bey's wrist. "And what is this for?"

"This, every member of the tribe receives when they turn thirteen. I got mine a bit early--actually, I got all of my markings early," the boy sighed, and made certain the bandage was secure before turning his arm. "I can't really show you in here, since we can't see the stars, but I can give you an idea." The boy clenched his fist, and lifted his arm, turning it slightly to align with sunlight coming through a crack in the shutters. "Look down my arm, and tell me what you see."

Rick followed his line of sight, and his mouth hung open for a second. "Whoa, that's cool!" The part of the marking on Ardeth's wrist seemed was pointing directly at the hole. "So you use this with stars?"

Gently lowering his arm to his lap, the younger boy nodded. "With these markings, I can never get lost in the desert. Actually, I can find my way home or to the protected areas from anywhere in Egypt."

Rick found himself wondering if he could get one some day, but figured since they were "tribal" markings, you had to at least be in or in some way associated with his tribe.

Just then, the lock on the door clicked open. Ardeth snatched up his scimitar and was on his feet in seconds. Dr. Bey stepped in, and looked slightly surprised to see a sword aimed in his direction.

Rick grabbed Ardeth's wrist to pull his arm down, but he was already lowering the weapon.

"Good morning, uncle," Ardeth said calmly, sheathing his scimitar and starting to gather the blankets they had slept on.

"Good morning, nephew," Dr. Bey said cautiously, trying to hide his amused grin. "Is it safe for me to enter?"

Ardeth glanced up from his work, trying not to smile. "Only if you intend to secure your safe passage with promises of food," he announced sternly.

Terrence cocked his eyebrow. "As a matter of fact...." and he stepped back outside to retrieve the two plates he had brought for the boys. Rick laughed as he looked smugly at Ardeth. "It seems I'm not the only one who's jumpy this morning."

Ardeth shrugged. "Well, there is good reason for it." He admitted, eagerly taking the plate his uncle handed him.

As Rick dove into the plate Terrence had handed him, he wondered something. He looked at Dr. Bey and swallowed his food before asking, "So are our guests still comfortably situated?"

Dr. Bey smirked. "I actually contacted some friends from the local authorities. The guards have been taken away, and a few people are helping clean up downstairs. You boys certainly made a big mess."

"I had no choice!" Rick tried to explain to Dr. Bey as fast as he could. "In a moment this place was going to be infested with mummies! I had to--"

But just then a scream erupted from downstairs. "O'CONNELL!!!"

"Ah, it seems Miss Carnahan has arrived," Dr. Bey commented in a casual tone.