Star of the Morning
Chapter 10
Mixed emotions flooded through him as the coastline of Egypt came into view and he couldn't decide which of them was strongest.
Egypt means excitement… adventure… love…
He glanced over at Evy who leaned on the rail beside him peering at the approaching landscape as though it were some long lost child – family bearing the promise of some sacred mystery revealed only to her eyes. The expression lent her a life, a radiance that pulled at almost every fibre of his being. This was his Evy – the woman he'd fallen in love with on the shifting dunes and beneath crumbling ruins. This was the woman whose every waking moment meant more to him than even his own life, not the pale shadow that had descended on her as they were banished form the land that gave her life.
"Mama…"
He turned his head to see the dark haired bundle barrelling along the deck toward where Evy now waited with arms open to catch him up and press the soft kiss she always gave him to his cheek. Sam laughed and threw his arms around her neck.
Sam… Essam…
And Egypt meant betrayal.
Trust had always been elusive, always something that he wanted to give; so badly wanted to give, but always when he reached out to hand it to those in his life he thought dependable, he found them wanting.
He'd trusted Ardeth. They'd been through so much through the years; through the mess that had started in the desolate wastes they called the 'Great Desert' and would – he was sure – end there in just the same way as they had ended the joy in his marriage to Evy, but worse than that…
No matter how much he tried he couldn't bring himself to hate the man who'd fathered the little cuckoo that nestled in the bosom of his life, his reason. He couldn't explain why. Any real man would hate him; want him dead, just… perhaps because of all they'd shared, perhaps mitigated by all that Evy had hold him after Sam's birth as they struggled to hold their family together… perhaps for some unknown, mystical, Egypt-only-knows reason, nothing he ever thought could bring him to hate Ardeth Bay.
There was anger, hurt… the pain of betrayal that cut him in two every time he saw Evy, every time he saw Sam – no matter how much he'd come to love the boy. He was a broken man that couldn't even keep his family together and show the love he felt to the beautiful woman at his side.
"Rick?"
He blinked and looked to Evy as she called his name.
"Sorry just…" he gestured toward the dockside that loomed larger as the moments passed, "…thinking."
"It will be all right." She laid her hand against his back as though she could tell what he was thinking. "We'll get through this and it will all work out."
"Daddy…" Sam reached for him from in the circle of his mother's embrace. He stepped closer and wrapped them both in his arms.
"When we put ashore, Evy—"
"I promise," she told him, pressing her hand against his chest to try and soothe the frantic tattoo that beat there. He didn't need to ask her to be careful; to do nothing rash… it was her family she was here to save. Nothing was more important in the world to her than to save her children from the strange and terrifying power that seemed to have followed them out of Egypt, no matter the exile that Ardeth had placed on them on pain of death. Only death would come on swifter wings if ever anything happened to Katharine or to Sam or… any of them.
At first her desire had been fuelled by the excitement at what she'd found in the parchment after the disappearance of her co-worker. Then, when the threat at the manor manifest, and the tensions between her and Rick had flared as a result, the reason for breaking the interdiction against ever setting foot on the sovereign land of Egypt became a matter of something greater even than facing Ardeth again and risk losing Essam to the people of his blood. Better that than losing him to the oblivion of deathlessness at the hands of some ancient Egyptian demon.
She looked up at her husband and he nodded. She knew he shared her urgency to resolve all; to once and for all free themselves from the long shadow of her youthful rash impetuosity.
"It's just a book. No harm ever came from… reading a book."
Leaning into Rick's arms she gazed across the remaining water, her nose wrinkling at the smell of the dockside detritus and spilled sewage, as the came closer to the quay.
"Did you—?" she began, meaning to ask him if he had any idea how they might find the Medjai once they came to Cairo.
"No," he said, his voice clipped.
"Could we—?" she tried instead, about to tell him that the museum might be a good place to start.
"No," he answered again before she could finish her thought.
"Don't you think—?"
"Yes."
She tried to look up at him, twisting her head a little and felt him shake his head more than she actually saw it.
"Even if the Medjai do still have links to the museum there's no guarantee that word would get to Ardeth," there was the slightest catch in his voice at the mention of their friend's name, "and not to some other Medjai who'd rather shoot first and ask questions later."
He had a point she supposed. Even Ardeth might not be so pleased to see them. She shivered and felt Rick's arms tighten around her a little more. She wasn't even sure how she would feel seeing Ardeth again after what had happened between them.
It was a small mercy to her that she had remembered nothing of it before the shock of Sam's birth and then afterward only in dreams and in her heart she hoped that Ardeth too, remembered nothing.
"No, we'll hire horses or camels… something," Rick continued as though he was thinking aloud, "ride out into the desert… keep moving from place to place… less change of ending up on the end of a Medjai sword that way."
"But Rick, what if we can't find him?" she asked.
"Not an option, Evy," he sighed, "not an option."
Ardeth raised his hand, bringing his small band of warriors to a halt at the edge of the village. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The spaces between the hovels and tents were empty. Usually the village of Esna bustled with life – children running to and fro, women and men sitting sewing or weaving – chattering back and forth. The village was silent and still.
"Stay alert," he told his warriors, laying his heels to Marhana to guide him forward. "There is something not right here."
He rode slowly into the village, senses all but screaming at him that there was danger. The hairs on his neck moved as though someone breathed over them. Unconsciously his hand dropped to the hilt of his blade. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his warriors do likewise. After a moment he drew his horse to a stop and called out for the headman of the village.
"Salyat, it is Ardeth Bay of the Medjai. Show yourself if you are able."
For many moments there was nothing and then, slowly, slowly the door of one of the houses opened, and two figures shuffled out.
Ardeth frowned.
Holding tightly to his daughter's arm, Salyat took step after stumbling step. His eyes milk white and the skin around them red and puckered as though burned. Around his face, blisters oozed foul fluids over his skin.
"What has happened here?" Ardeth gasped and started to dismount.
"No!" the girl called out to him. "You cannot stay here, Medjai."
Salyat mumbled something to her as she wiped his face clean with the edge of her veil when one of the sores split. Ardeth turned his head aside.
"There is a curse here," the girl said, repeating her father's words. "It came suddenly. Riders came, took what they would of us. My father tried to challenge them. A woman – she spoke words – men fell and withered, twisted. She spared father – an example, she said."
"Woman?" Ardeth asked.
"Creature…" Salyat mumbled through ruined lips, "among many."
"The others?" Ardeth manage eventually gesturing around the village.
"Those not taken by the creatures fled into the desert or locked themselves in their homes," the girl answered. "Please… there must be something you can do."
Ardeth shook his head but answered, "I will get to the bottom of this."
The girl nodded and turned to take her father back into the house, but stopped in the doorway to look up into Ardeth's eyes.
"Hurry, Medjai," she said, "others are coming. They will cleanse this place, touched by such evil as it is." Her eyes filled with tears. "Hurry please… I am afraid to die."
His heart twisted in his chest.
"So long as I and my people have breath in our bodies we will strive to protect the people of the desert," he vowed. Then to his men he gave the order to ride, knowing that he had found the trail of those that had taken his son that had once grown cold out in the desert. "Yallah! Nimshe!"
"Thank God!" Jonathan said as the side of the ship bumped softly against the buffers.
Rick looked over at him, saw the tension in his shoulders and the way he held Jennifer tightly to his side and knew that Jonathan too, had conflicting feelings.
Understandable – Egypt had shown his brother-in-law little other than horror; had filled him with such dread that he'd once tried to kill himself.
Rick shook his head. It was not the time to think of that now. He gave him a falsely cheery nod and began to turn away.
"All right, Uncle Jon?" Alex' voice, genuinely cheery, floated across the deck and somewhat warmed the chill from Rick's senses.
"All right, Partner," Jonathan answered, "Glad to be back?"
"Are you kidding?" Alex grinned and bustled on past his uncle and then Rick felt his teenage son's hand slap against his arm. "Come on, Dad."
"Right…" He drew the word out as he answered, but bent to pick up the bags at his feet none the less. Then he followed his son towards the gang plank. Evy followed behind, Sam and Kat each clinging tightly to her hands.
Reaching solid ground at last, and pushing away the momentary dizziness he felt, Rick turned to offer a hand to Evy. His eyes automatically swept around the quayside, watching the few dock hands that scuttled around. Where were the beggars; the hawkers and desert brats running around to snare the unsuspecting traveller into parting with far more than the would-be guides were worth?
"Stay close," he muttered as Evy passed him, "I don't like the way this feels."
"O'Connell," the old man hissed, and he cuffed the young boy at his side with a weathered hand.
The boy looked up from the work he'd been doing at his elder's side – unloading packages and valises from the pallets that had been lowered to the dock from the ship.
"Master?"
"Go to Osfar for a horse and ride to the Elders. Tell them the O'Connells have disobeyed and ignore their exile."
"Humaira!" the young man grasped her arm and tugged her inside, sticking his head further out to look both ways, first up and then down the street, before slamming the door closed behind them. "What are you doing here? Does your father know?"
"It doesn't matter," she said and when he turned to look at her she was already unwinding the covering from around her head.
""Maira stop… you should not be here. Your father gave us his answer and that answer was no." He shook his head. Not two days ago he had approached her father to ask for her hand. Rightly so, for he had no real means to support her, her father had declined, telling him he wished for a more secure future for his daughter and that he had already made arrangements for her marriage to another man. "He was right… how could I support you? Or a family?"
"Ameed, I do not want to be a carpet trader's wife," she argued. "I do not know him. I know you. I love you."
"You do not know me," he told her. "If you did you would not have come. I respect your father." He looked down at the floor, refusing to look at her now that she had unveiled. "Cover yourself. And get you home."
"I have been thinking… I was talking with the woman that came here."
"That woman and her people were trouble. You should have kept away from her," he told her with a shiver. He would have said more, but stopped as a fleet shadow passed across the faint beam of light that came in from outside, where the stars still lit the street.
"She gave me good advice," Humaira protested.
"Oh?" he asked and in spite of himself looked up toward her. He had always thought her beautiful, but there she stood, unveiled before him, almost glowing with an inner light that illuminated the darkness that seemed to possess the rest of the room. He shook his head then, his conscience fighting with him and lending him the sense to feel as though cold fingers crept along his back. "Humaira, truly you are a beautiful woman, and if your father had agreed I would gladly take you—"
Take her… she is offering herself to you… can you not see…?
"But that's just it," she interrupted him, and the whispering of the voice inside his head, "all I must do, she said, is to remain here with you for a night and my father cannot object. We will be as man and wife and we can—"
"It's wrong," he implored her.
You can take her to your bed… pin her beneath you and coat yourself with the blood of the life she offers to you…
Again he shook his head, trying to clear away the dark whisper from inside his mind. "It goes against your father's wishes."
"What about my wishes?" she twisted her skirt between her hands.
Or perhaps you would prefer to watch as the trader beds her over his carpets and reams her from behind… he is but down the way… see hands on her small breasts… the pass of flesh into flesh…
Ameed moaned… his head was spinning and he felt hot, as if the press of shadows in the room, and it had darkened in the last few minutes – perhaps a swath of cloud had covered the stars – as if the shadows were a fever coming on him. He staggered slightly, and leaned against one of the posts that held up the roof, digging his fingernails into the wood.
"Ameed?" Her voice came from a long way off, but still he looked at her… and behind her to the shadow that loomed over her, coalesced almost to a recognisable shape… as a crocodile standing on its two hind legs.
I can show you… everything…
"Yes…" he breathed.
"Yes what?" she asked, and he could not miss the exciting hint of fear that coloured her tone.
"Stay," he said, his voice as thick as the desire that had come on him, seeped over him from the floor on which he stood. "Stay with us… show me…"
Farah had not particularly borne a grudge to anyone in her life… yes they had teased her for her size when she was smaller, and envied her for her beauty as she grew, but she had always shown them kindness in return. Why then did she now feel such anger, and toward her only friend?
"Farah, are you listening?" the other girl said as they walked home, the two of them, from where they had been weaving the whole day.
"What?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry… I was distracted. I thought I heard something."
"Heard something?" her friend stopped walking and peered all around them. The drag this caused on her arm made her stop walking too. "What kind of something?"
"Does it matter?" she snapped irritably. "Let's just get home."
"But what if it's something—" Her friend stopped as the sound came again and this time they both heard it clearly, like the hiss of wind across loose sand. The kind of sound more often heard in the deep of the desert.
His infant daughter looked up at him with warm and trusting eyes. He smiled back, but shook his head. This was the third daughter in as many children… and his wife asleep – still weak from the birth – close by.
"I cannot," he whispered, his hand reaching for the cushion from his side of the bed. "You cannot…"
His wife would never know… so many children lost their lives in infancy…
Neither girl moved… the air felt heavier with each passing moment, as if some kind of fragile equilibrium was on the point of breaking… a terrible wave that would break over the town at the slightest shift.
"Farah…" the friend gripped her arm suddenly, pointing into the street and to the light dusting of sand that seemed to be creeping on the breath of the wind, inward upon them all… upon the tread of that delicate balance.
"Would we not be better putting up for the night, Ardeth?" Tarek asked softly as they turned their mounts to head toward the silhouette of a small town he knew lay close by the banks of the Nile.
"I would not be so far from water, Tarek. The horses have not the means to go much longer without."
Tarek nodded. "We will rest in the town then?"
"On the outskirts," he said, not wishing to burden the town with finding places for the Medjai and their mounts. "We will be better by the river."
Ardeth turned his head as Hassan urged his mount up to ride with them, three abreast.
"First Medjai?" he said softly.
"I feel it, Hassan," he answered, already knowing what his warrior was about to say. Marhana too, felt the heavy atmosphere, and almost skipped sideways, skittish and unsettled beneath him.
"Perhaps it is another, as Esna," Tarek voiced his fear.
He did not get the chance to answer. Sound carries in the great SaHra. And as soon as the shrill cry reached them, to a man, the Medjai answered the call.
From one of the houses the penetrating scream rushed out into the night and shattered the fragile balance that was holding back the tide. The sands that had been creeping slowly inward, as if craving to be unseen, momentarily halted, and perhaps drew back before surging in, gathering momentum and swelling like some great golden wave.
Farah and her friend turned to run, but from the other direction a matching upsurge swept toward them and in the crest of this, figures formed, great lionesses bearing huge and shining golden blades.
The girls half turned again, clinging to each other as they tried to find a way to go, a place to run… but the roughness of a wall scraped Farah's back and trapped, all but petrified at the sight before her she could do little but try to hold in the scream that bubbled in the back of her throat.
Still the leonine figures from the waves stalked closer, closing in on her, and her friend who moaned in terror.
"Please…" the girl whined, "We haven't…"
The scream of fear and pain came again from the one of the houses and many of the lioness warriors lifted their heads, and scattered – running on powerful feet toward the sound, and toward the many other doorways around the town; many… but not all.
Two still stalked and circled toward where Farah cowered with her friend… her head spinning with fear, a sound, which could have been her frantic heart, pounding in her head like hoof beats.
"We haven't…" her friend moaned again, "Plea—"
The end of the word was lost in the eruption of blood as the point of a lioness' deadly blade burst from the girl's chest. A deadly warrior had circled unseen behind the two and struck even as the girl protested their innocence.
Farah's scream, shrill and desperate, echoed another of agonised fear from the house further along the street.
"Follow them," he ordered as the supernatural warriors scattered toward the houses. He rode in as fast as Marhana could, fearing for the girls he saw trapped against the side of the house. "Do not let them harm the townsfolk."
His Medjai warriors fanned out, riding hard toward where the creatures now stalked their prey as Ardeth himself rode on.
One of the two girls screamed, and sorrowfully, he realised he was come too late to save them both, but even as the second warrior raised the sharp golden blade to strike, he sent his own scimitar spinning sideways toward the leonine form, without slowing his horse even half a stride.
The blade took the creatures head from its body and sent a spray of sand over the terrified girl, and over his arm as he reached down, and snatched her across the middle of her back, lifting her to sit before him as he continued the pass, but now tugged gently on the rein to encourage Marhana to slow.
"Stay with my horse," he told the girl, and slid into a graceful dismount even before Marhana was fully stationary. He set off at a run toward the remaining warrior, meaning to cut her off before she reached the doorway of the house.
Tarek and Mahmoud burst through the doorway as another scream sounded from within. The cloying, sickly smell of blood and sex; of other bodily secretions all but cut Tarek down before he even moved, but at the sight of the woman, helpless and bound… spread like the parody of a sacrifice, lent him the strength to push past his nausea.
It was as walking into a slaughterhouse. A young man lay in a pool of his own filth, torn and bleeding from many cuts, while the girl still writhed and screamed as though unseen bodies played and fed upon her flesh… unseen spirits…
He did not stop to think, but moved toward the other two figures in the room, the figures that battled for possession of the woman. The crocodile headed warrior of Seth turned and hissed in his direction.
"Medjai…" it hissed.
"Warrior for God…" its opponent also turned, breathing the words on the end of a growl. "…brother…"
"No brother of yours," he answered harshly, and then with a breath as he advanced on Seth's warrior ordered, "In the name of Allah, most Merciful, I command all unclean spirits to Leave. This. Place."
Each of the last three words of his sentence were punctuated by the clash of his blade against that of the crocodile headed warrior, and from the corner of his eye he saw Mahmoud move to try and defend the two others in the room from the advance of the leonine form.
Ardeth hurried through the door only a breath behind the lion headed warrioress. Even so, as the avenging angel she was, he was hard pressed to keep up with her. Before he knew what was happening she had grabbed a man by the back of his robe and was punching forward with her blade.
"No!" he commanded, lunging forward with his own, retrieved from the ground outside. He knew his strike would barely even injure the warrior, but it might distract her enough to save the man.
"Baba!"
A sickness churned in his stomach as he saw a little girl launch herself toward the man and his assailant. Her path would but her directly in the way of the warrior's blade, and of his if he tried to deflect the stroke.
"No, girl!" he cried out, but too late.
The lion headed warrior lashed out with her free hand, the claws raking across the girl's chest and sending her flying away, to lie motionless against the wall.
Channelling the anger he felt he rolled around the warrior, putting himself in the way of the still incoming blade and sweeping his scimitar down and out, turning the strike aside. He did not wait for the warrior to regain her stride, and at once set himself on the attack, guiding his lighter blade with both hands against the heavier sword the lioness bore.
"You err, Medjai," she hissed at him.
"And you do not belong here," he countered, striking a blow against her shoulder that merely sent a small spay of sand into the air. "Leave now, beloved of Sekhmet, and take your sisters with you."
The lion headed warrior only laughed.
"So be it." Ardeth responded with almost a bow, and came on again, with renewed vigour.
He struck first to one side and then the other, never letting himself fall into a pattern that the creature could have discerned. He made his attacks at first low, and then high, and then low again. He knew, and the creature knew that to halt her – to take her unnatural life from her he would have to sever her head from her body. Such was the way of these things… Anubis… Seth… Sekhmet… it was all the same. They did not belong in this world, and it was his duty as Medjai to act in protection against such creatures.
At last, with a feint to the left, he came in on the right, and high… making a figure eight with his blade that had the last stroke pass horizontally across the creature's shoulder. He turned away to protect his eyes from the stinging sand that for a moment filled the room.
At the sound of a woman's high pitched wail he straightened and tried to take in the scene before him. She knelt beside a little bed, a cushion overturned nearby, and she was rocking something in her arms… whispering a name over and over again. The man he had saved knelt weeping, holding the girl whom the creature had attacked, against his chest.
"What have I done…?" he moaned over and over again, and beyond him, another little girl hiccupped… terrified tears, rocking back and forth with her head pressed against her knees.
He went first to the woman, guessing what had happened, and why the righteous warrior of Sekhmet had been trying to attack the man.
"My baby," she cried. "My daughter…"
"Set her down," he said.
"No," she moaned and held the child more tightly.
"Do as I say and set her down," he commanded.
This time the woman obeyed, and at once he began to try and help the smothered infant, trying to work out in his mind how long it had all been. Relieved to find the flesh still warm he leaned down and breathed into the baby's nose and mouth… as almost two and a half years before he had seen the healers do.
"He does not cry… why does he not cry…?" Ashna's voice was faint but shrill with panic.
"They will help him, Ashna," he told her and squeezed her hand. "We have to trust them."
He peered around the screen they had erected when he refused to wait outside. Ashna had wanted him to be with her at the birth of the twins and though the healers protested, it was little enough that he could give to her, as sick as she had been, and as afraid as she was… not for herself, but for the life of their children.
"Name him, Ardeth… please…" Ashna begged, "give him a reason to live."
He watched as Ayesha leaned down again to place her mouth over his tiny face and give the breath of life into his son's body.
"He shall be called Tareef – and his sister Luloah." He looked then at the tiny little baby boy and whispered, "You must live, Tareef… your sister will need you."
As Tareef had, the baby gave an almost indignant cough… spluttered once and taking a huge breath began to cry… at first faintly, but then growing louder as she regained the use of her lungs.
"Oh…" the woman all but prostrated herself before Ardeth, and he caught her shoulders to raise her up.
"Come now woman," he said to her, "Your children need you. Be sure to give the baby space enough, for a while."
Then he got to his feet and came over to the husband, crouching down to feel for a pulse in the eldest child's neck. His fingers met only cooling flesh, and as he looked he saw that the lioness' claws had torn the vein at the girl's neck before ever they slashed her body.
"Put the girl down," he ordered the man. "There is nothing you can do."
The man gave an anguished cry then, and looked up into Ardeth's stern face, "Please… I did not… we just… we cannot feed another mouth… support another girl-child. I had hoped for a son, I had—"
Ardeth caught the woman as she flew at her husband, fists flailing, spitting like a hell cat. It was all he could do to hold her back, though in truth he did not know why he bothered.
"No," he said firmly, holding her against him, "Mother stop… You have two daughters who need you. Look to your girls…"
Finally she calmed enough to stop struggling with him, and then spat in her husband's face.
"You are no husband to me!" she said harshly, and pulled herself from Ardeth's restraining grasp to go to the daughter that still wept in the corner of the room, and wrapped herself around the girl, running her hand over her hair and whispering the girl's name soothingly over and over again.
"Get up." Ardeth ordered the man.
"What do you mean to do with me?" he asked fearfully.
"You will be taken from here to the authorities in Cairo. They will do with you as the law demands."
The man broke down again, but Ardeth roughly took his arm, unmoved by his self-pitying tears.
Mahmoud turned his head aside, as working together he and Tarek managed finally to send Seth's warrior back into the underworld. The silence that fell was heavy and laboured. After only a moment longer he came to the woman's side. She was barely breathing, and had lost much blood… and without a healer he did not think there was much chance for her to survive.
He looked around for clean rags to press against where the blood flowed, and then to push down on her belly, but as he did the woman weakly caught his hand.
"No," she whispered, barely audible, "Please…"
Thinking she had mistaken him for one of the creatures that had been assaulting her, he said soothingly, "Peace, my lady… you are safe. I am Medjai."
She shook her head and took a shuddering breath. "Please…" she said again, "I cannot… please… let me go."
Mahmoud looked up at Tarek, and his brother warrior nodded sadly.
"What is your name?" Mahmoud asked the woman as he and Tarek gently covered her with a blanket they found.
"Humaira," she whispered.
"You have been very brave, Humaira," Tarek told her, coming to sit beside her opposite Mahmoud.
"Let us hear you," Mahmoud said equally as quietly, his hand at her wrist felt her pulse growing thready and weak. "Humaira…?"
Slowly she opened her eyes and looked up into Mahmoud's own. He saw gratitude there… and also a little fear, and gently took her hand into his and squeezed it softly.
"It's all right," he said quietly, "We are with you…"
Very faintly, almost inaudible she whispered, "Lâ… ilâha…. Illallâh," and struggled only slightly as a tremor passed through her body as the last breath left her.
"Truly to Allah we belong," Mahmoud whispered as he reached over to gently close her eyes.
"And to Him we shall return." Tarek responded. "She was brave to the last."
Suhayl tried, futilely, to recognise landmarks as they rode through the desert. If he could find out where they were, then when he had a chance for escape he would know in which direction to run, but it was dark, and he knew little of the desert beyond the immediate surroundings of Al-Kharga… and they had long since moved away from there. So, having no other choice but to conserve his strength, and try to escape the now constant aches in his body, he allowed the swaying of the camel to lull him into sleep…
This time he did not fly, but walked the hard packed land of rock and earth towards an archway he could see ahead. Above him the sky was a wash of dark clouds and boiling red in an endless sunset – like a sea of blood with putrid spray of grey.
Matching his course, though keeping their distance, small, twisted figures crawled and skittered along, like scorpions on the baked earth. All around he could hear them… their hissing, cackling voices… spitting out their curses to fall like seeds onto the barren land and further off, yet all around him, the crying and screaming of those in need – weeping for mercy; for aid; for death…
"Najm al SabaH!" He caught the figure that flew at him as he passed under the archway, "I've been so afraid."
"I am here," he framed her face with his hands, "my Dragon-dove. I am safe."
"They've hurt you. I can feel it," she told him, and began to run her hands over him.
Her touch soothed the aches he felt and yet, still he said, "I do not matter. You have to tell me what I must do."
"You already know," she said, frowning and looking up at him in something approaching panic. "You have to."
He shook his head.
"You will," she assured him. "Where are they taking you?"
"To him," he said darkly.
"To Imh—"
He pressed his fingers to her lips, cutting off the word, the name, "Speak not his name." The warmth of her breath against his hand stirred feelings in him, deep and strong. Slowly he moved his fingers to caress her cheek and she nuzzled at the touch, until he slowly leaned down to her, to share her breath, meaning to share with her a gentle kiss. Reluctantly she turned her face away.
"We cannot," she said mournfully, "not yet."
"Oh, my Dragon-dove," he whispered, closing his eyes, "so much is happening."
She nodded against his hand. "It has begun. It will come faster now. Battle is joined."
"The woman? The woman I saw…?"
"Was only the beginning."
"But you said I'd help her," his eyes flew open and he looked around and paced as if searching would find the one that was tortured and allow him to go to her, to take up his sword and smite all of the little demons that fed from her… hurt her… "I have failed her."
"No," she came to him again and took both his hands in hers, "You will help her, but more now than just one woman. My star," she squeezed his hands imploringly almost in tears before him. "Do you not know who you are…? What you must do?"
"Oh, my Dove…" he drew her into his arms and she burrowed there, holding him tightly, "I am so tired."
"You must not give in to them."
"The Abomination, she…"
"Will be defeated." She looked up at him again, the light of hope shining from her eyes, "When all the pieces are in place, you will truly travel within from the waking world. Then… only then…"
"But what now? What must we do until then?"
"Wait…"
"But people need me."
"Endure…" she whispered.
"Endure…" Suhayl breathed as he woke.
"Did the little Medjai say something?" Salak teased, reaching over to grasp one of his arms and pull him to his camel, to sit helpless and bound in front of him. He remained mute, refusing to give Salak the satisfaction of hearing his voice.
Salak chuckled and covered them both with his cloak, drawing him closer. "Well now," he whispered into Suhayl's ear. Suhayl heard the hateful hiss of Salak's knife clearing its sheath, "Let us see how much you can 'endure.'"
Meren woke with a start as someone urgently shook her by the shoulder. She sat up and rubbed her eyes; memories of the dream already fading. Only one memory remained. He was hurt. Her Star was hurt.
"Get up quickly, daughter… dress yourself." Her father's voice sounded urgent.
"Papa?"
"It isn't safe for you here. You are going with your mother."
"But… but…"
"Meren, just for once heed me with no debate. Cairo is no longer safe. You must go with your mother back to the fort. You will both be safer there."
"But I cannot." The words burst from her before she could stop them. "I have to find him. He's hurt he—"
Her father stopped the frantic packing he was doing then and came to sit on the side of her bed. Gentle as ever he took her hands.
"Meren, my child, you cannot help him if you, yourself are killed." He ran his hand over the side of her face gently and smoothed back her sleep tousled hair. "I do not lightly send you away."
"But how will I find him if I am not here? How will I help him?"
Her father shook his head. "I do not know." He sighed then before he continued hesitantly, "but…"
"But?"
"Do you know the hill nearby your mother's fort? The one beyond the temple ruins?" She nodded and he went on. "It is a sacred hill for those of my kind… and since you have vision… perhaps…"
"You think it would show me how to help my Star?"
"It may, but it is… it is a place of great power, Meren. If you choose to go there, you must do so with much care."
She threw her arms around her father and held him tightly. "I will, Papa, I promise."
He held her just as tightly in return before he rose to continue the frantic packing and this time Meren did not protest.
Nazir tensed and shifted the rifle against his shoulder as the sound came more loudly from the bushes that were grown over what could have been an animal track. A moment later a figure stepped from the foliage and seeing Nazir immediately raised his hands.
"Master Nazir," the young Medjai, barely old enough to be marked, said urgently. "Peace… I bring news."
"Mohammed sent you?" Nazir asked, trying to place the boy's name.
The youngster shook his head. "He does not know I am here, and would kill me if he knew… but the yard of my house here borders on this track, I found it when one of our goats escaped and—"
Nazir cut him off with an impatient shake of his head, and lowered the rifle, beckoning him forward.
"Then he does not know of it," he finished for the boy, and nodded. "You have done well. Now… what news, Hameed, isn't it?"
"Hanad," the boy corrected, "And I heard one of our scouts had ridden in from Cairo. He said that the American and his family have returned."
"O'Connell?" Nazir did nothing to hide the surprised shock in his voice.
Hanad nodded, "Yes, Master, and Mohammed has sent a full patrol of warriors to find them and carry out judgement upon them."
Nazir swore. He knew that Ardeth had not wanted to act against the O'Connell's at all, but had been left with no choice in the face of the scheming and political machinations of the Elders. Ardeth had been forced to do something, and since he had no intention of executing Evelyn for her unwitting part in Nephthys' murder of the Medjai appointed to guard the bells of Isis' sistrum, he had banished them all from Egypt. He had meant to wait until matters calmed among the elders and the tribes, and then rescind the exile, if not pardon the O'Connells entirely. Now though… if Mohammed's men got to them…
"Have I done wrong, Master Nazir, in bringing you this news?" The youngster looked nervous and so Nazir came to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"No, Hanad, far from it. You have been brave in defying the false Elder in this way. And if I can count on your bravery again, perhaps you can continue to be our agent in the bosom of his cabal."
"Really?" Hanad brightened at the prospect.
"Take no risks. Do nothing that would give you away, but when evening falls each day, find your way along your goat trail to the waterside here." Nazir had a thought then, "But… what of your family?"
"My mother is old, she sleeps early most evening. She will know nothing of it so long as I bring her dinner to her and wait until she sleeps."
"Good then, it is agreed. Go now." Nazir gave him a push back toward the bushes.
He waited until the boy was out of sight before calling a warrior to take his place and explaining to him about Hanad in case the boy returned, then he went back to caverns, and to Rashid's son.
"Rahman," he took his arm and led him away from the other warriors, "there is something I need you to do."
"Nazir?"
"Choose five warriors and swift horses. Take Niraan if you must. The O'Connells have been seen in Cairo and Mohammed has sent a patrol of warriors to kill them. You must go by way of the river and get there first, warn them and protect them. Your uncle would not wish for harm to come to them."
"I understand…" Abdul-Rahman said softly, but with a hint of doubt.
"But?" Nazir prompted.
"Can we afford to send so many warriors?"
"We can send no less against a full patrol and even with O'Connell's skill, you would be hard pressed if it came to a fight."
Rahman nodded. "I will do my best, Sayiidi." He started to go and do as Nazir had bidden him, but then stopped and turned back to him. "And Nazir?"
"Rahman?"
"Have no fear… I will not take your beloved Niraan from your side."
Nazir could not help smiling and chuckling to himself at that. He gave Abdul-Rahman a polite bow, and continued in toward the caverns, to go and bring the news to Meiri and the rest of the family.
Meren was stricken, and almost tore herself from her mother's grasp as her father pushed them onto the boat and she realised that he was not coming with them.
"Papa!" she cried.
"Meren, no," he squeezed her hand tightly even as the boat began to move, with people still scrambling aboard. "Remember all that I have told you. I will find the Medjai and then I will come to join you."
"But Papa," she tried to scramble again over the low rail and into her father's arms, but her mother held her tightly. She looked beyond him to the fires burning in the city… the mobs barely held back by the city watch, and more worrying still, to the dark shadows that moved across the face of lighted places, barely seen, but the source of many of the terrified screams that punctuated the early evening. She feared that she would never see him again.
"The Prophets, peace be upon them, have given us separate paths to walk for this time, Meren. You must go to find your Star and I must stay to find the Medjai." He spoke urgently, "We will be reunited, for we walk in their shadow, protected. Remember that, and heed your mother well."
"I love you, Anas," her mother threw the words ashore as if she too feared that all he said was mere platitudes and they would never find each other again.
"And I you," he returned, "both of you. Do not leave the boat, whatever you do."
She was forced then to let go of her father's hand as the quayside ended. She watched him until they were out of site, standing with his arm raised high, waving to them… and when she could no longer make out his shadow against the turmoil of the city, she turned and threw herself to the deck, weeping.
An eerie, silent tension met them as they rode into the streets of Cairo, as if the whole of the city was holding its breath. He turned his head first one way and then the other and saw evidence of fires that had burned in the streets and rubble where walls had been.
"There has been trouble here," Ardeth said aloud, not for any need to inform his Chosen of the obvious, but to settle himself with the sound of his own voice against the silent streets.
Cairo was never so still, so empty and devoid of life. Even the windows of the hotels were boarded over, as if the proprietors had left them or as if they expected attack. For a moment his eyes moved around the streets again, seeking another reason – seeking the vehicles of invading soldiers. He saw nothing… nothing but creeping shadows and wind blown dust and sand.
"To the watch," he ordered and took advantage of the empty streets to urge their horses to a faster pace. They had only two duties to discharge here and they could be on their way once more, back on the trail of those who had taken Suhayl that even now was growing colder. First they must bring to the watch the man that had tried to smother his baby daughter, and had then been the cause of the death of his eldest as she tried to save him, and second they had to bring to the hostel the still terrified girl. He had promised her family that he would bring her here, where she might find help. True he could have taken her to one of the Medjai tribes and to their healers, and she might have fared better under the care of those sacred ladies, but in the present turmoil among the tribes he could not risk the reception he might receive – or even that they might refuse to help.
He glanced over at the girl where she rode stiffly, almost catatonic, held in Nasim's arms. He sighed and shook his head, and then brought them to a halt outside the watch compound.
Dismounting quickly, he grasped the prisoner by the arm and encouraged him from the horse's back. In truth the man offered little resistance and would likely cause the watch no trouble, but perhaps in handing him over to the watch, they could discover what had happened to cause such quiet tension in Cairo. Bringing the man to the Cairo Watch to answer for his crimes might give him the answers he needed.
Miranda sighed. It was well past dark and the hostel was all but full to overflowing. The unrest in the city, and the mobs that pitted themselves against the officers of the watch meant an increase in injuries. It was late, and she was tired… and even with Oman's promise to the Imam Anas to keep her safe, she did not feel at ease. A storm was coming and she feared it.
She jumped as a pounding at the door echoed through the infirmary halls.
The tale the watchman had told him had him unsettled. Bad enough that the greeting he was given raised the hairs on the back of his neck, "Medjai, praise Allah!" but then the tales of creeping shadows, corpses drained of all moisture, and sudden unexplained deaths, not to mention the rioting and the mobs, it all added up to the kind of trouble that he did not wish to face. He could not help but wonder if they had not found the trail of those that had taken Suhayl after all.
He raised his hand again and pounded on the door of the hostel a second time, then stood back as he heard footsteps on the other side of the door and the scrape of a bolt against its metal housing.
"Yes?" the voice of a man asked cautiously as he opened the door but a crack.
"My name is Ardeth Bay. I bring one who needs assistance from out of the desert."
The door opened a little wider and the man peered out at the Medjai band and the woman that trembled in the arms of one of them.
"Could you not bring her to your own healers, Medjai? The troubles here have left us short of space." he said.
"Our nearest settlement was further still than Cairo, and the dangers in the desert make it unwise to travel with one such as this woman," Ardeth answered. "She needs your help."
"Very well," the man said with a sigh, and standing back opened the door wide. "Bring her inside, take her to the room along the hall, our healer is there."
"Thank you," he said quietly, and taking the unresisting woman by the arm, and followed by Tarek and Emir, he brought the woman into the hostel and toward the door indicated by the man.
As he entered that room, what rational thought he might have possessed a moment before fled from his mind, and all the pieces… the deaths, the shadows, the creatures… and the kidnap of his son… everything fell into place, in horror, as he set eyes on the woman the other man claimed as their 'healer.'
"You!" he cried, and letting go of the young woman in his care, he advanced on the woman of the Cult of Nephthys.
Miranda looked up at the man, the Medjai, as his voice rang out in accusation across the room. Fear gripped her belly. If he was here then someone had finally thought to send for the Medjai… and if they had been summoned then surely she had been blamed as the cause of it all. Shakily she got up from her knees as he started to come toward her and tried to back away. After colliding with several of the small cots on which the wounded lay, she realised he would reach her before she could find a path away from him. Instead she tried to dodge around him, if she could see where she was going perhaps she would have the chance to flee. He caught her before she had taken even two steps.
"Give me back my son!" It was as if she had walked into a huge black wall. The hands that gripped her shoulders were uncompromising in their strength and determination. He shook her slightly.
Miranda trembled in fear before him, remembering every word, every feeling of these moments as though she had lived them before and the memory of the hated life she had once led flooded through her as the events of the vision the child demon Nebkhat had given to her finally came to pass.
"I cannot," she whispered, fear of him, of it all, stealing her voice. Beyond the meaning of the words she had no idea what he was talking about. She did not know his son, and certainly did not have him.
The only child she had ever had; ever held in her arms she had believed to be hers, and it was that child – that creature – she corrected her own thought, that had brought her such pain and heartache. She only hoped, for the sake of the English woman, that when the Medjai had banished the evil from the temple of Nephthys that it had truly left the child in peace.
"Ardeth…" another of the Medjai approached and spoke quietly trying to calm the man that held her. Omran too approached, his hands open in supplication to the warrior.
"Honoured Medjai," he said softly, "We no longer have any child of the Medjai in this place. The only one we ever had has long since left. He returned to his people with his mother when they were reunited with your warrior brother."
The one called Ardeth obviously found no truth in Omran's words, or perhaps simply ignored him, he was clearly so focussed on the emotions coursing through him.
"You have one day," he shook her again, "before I return. I will raze this place to the ground and everything in it to find my son! Everything… do you understand?"
She understood. The man's son had been taken from him and he believed that she was responsible, but there was nothing she could do. She did not have the child… she did not have any child. The thought left her feeling cold and empty. Useless… she pulled against the relentless grip on her shoulder, but could not break free.
"I cannot give you what I do not have…" she whispered. "That which has never been mine."
The warrior opened his mouth to speak to her again, his grip, perhaps, a little lighter against her shoulder.
Suddenly, behind him, the girl screamed.