He couldn't remember when he had felt so miserable and so tired both at the same time. He leaned back against his saddlebag, watching the activity around him slow as everyone settled for the night. With a sigh he closed his eyes. The one person he was looking for was not to be seen. He hadn't seen her since she had slapped his face and run off in tears.
He should have gone after her. He should have done a lot of things… and a lot of other things he should not.
He ran his hands over his face and opened his eyes, beginning to stare into the small fire that had been built against the chill of the desert night…
Impassive… He stood with his back to the door of the
chamber wherein the soon-to-be crowned Rameses soothed his grief with the
pleasures of a woman's body. There was
no need for him to ask who graced his bed. One look at the not-so-impassive face of his companion – Ma'nakhtuf
revealed her identity all too well. He
had tried to relieve the man, but he would not leave his post.
"Sekhemkare," At the
sound of the voice, he turned toward the speaker to watch her coming from a
corridor at the side. She was undeniably
beautiful, blunt cut hair framing a well structured face. Her eyes outlined carefully, as always and a
blush of gold on her eyes and cheeks. Her right wrist bore the tooled leather bracer with inset gold
hieroglyphs that told a part of the Prophesy of Usert… each of the seven
Usertim Priestesses wore one, but as their high priestess hers was partly
hidden by the short feathered cloak she wore over the crisp white drape that
barely covered her shapely form. But her beauty did nothing to soften the way
he felt… the contempt and loathing for a woman that had so openly supported the
treacherous Anck-Su-Namun… had given the woman ideas that she were better than
just to be concubine to the late Pharaoh. Her voice grated as she purred her question. "May we speak?"
"Not with your women,
Isetnophret?" He mocked her. "Or are
they too busy mourning that traitorous witch!"
"Please, First
Medjai," she sighed and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knew their ways all too well. She used his title as proof of her respect
for him… proof nothing – he knew otherwise. Asru, the only woman he had ever loved – and Usertim herself – had told
him she held him in the highest contempt. Impotent leader of a powerless sect that had forgotten their true worth…
that was what she had called him. "It is because of Anck-Su-Namun that I am
here and here alone. We must speak."
He folded his arms
over his chest. "Then speak. I have ears."
"Alone."
"No." He snapped, and
breathed in deeply, no man in his right mind should ever be alone with such a
woman as Isetnophret. "Anything you have
to say can be said before Ma'nakhtuf." He nodded to the Medjai warrior standing
with him.
"There is no TIME for
this posturing, Sekhemkare!" He took an angry step forward but she stood her
ground.
"Posturing?" He echoed
her words in disbelief and but for his honour would have raised a hand to her,
but striking any woman was the sign of a coward and a bully, and he was
neither. "Pharaoh lies dead at the hand
of his traitorous mistress and you accuse us of posturing?"
"Listen to me." She
placed a hand on his arm, but he shook off the contact as if it dirtied him
somehow. "We need your help."
He laughed. It was a humourless, bitter laugh. The Usertim needed the Medjai, yes… to father
their children and provide them with daughters. "You have never needed out help, Usertim. We have only ever been of use to you for one
reason, and one reason alo…"
She shook her head and
something in her sad expression stopped him and turned his white hot anger into
a chill as she said mournfully, "You are needed now… never more so than now."
"Speak woman, and say
what you have to say quickly." He would not let her see that his anger was
calmed, that he had sensed that what she had to say was important.
"Imhotep." She said.
"What of him?"
"He rides toward the
City of the Dead even now, to attempt to return his lover to life." Another flush of cold went through him.
"Lover?" For a moment
he did not understand why she should come to him with such a story… was it
religious jealousy? That he had been always at Seti's side and had his
ear? What…?
"Oh come, now,
Sekhem," he forgave her shortening his name, fighting to fit all of the pieces
of the badly broken puzzle into place. "You surely have seen… you were always there when they were together and
it is your job to see such…"
"Anck-Su-Namun," he
breathed the name as a curse. "He was
her accomplice…"
"Yes," she answered,
and jumped when he suddenly grasped her wrist bearing the bracer.
"And you encouraged her,
thinking to bring about your prophesy?" Suddenly he saw further into the matter
than he was sure she wanted him to.
"We encourage her
belief in herself, nothing more. We
mistook the touch of the High Priest of Osiris for divinity around her. We were wrong, First Medjai…"
**
Rick looked up as Evie came to his side and lifted up his arm for her to snuggle beneath. She did just that and he loved the feeling of her warm breath against his neck. He reached down to the cup that was resting nearby and handed it to her.
"How you doing?" he asked.
"I should be the one asking you that." she gently ran her hand over his injured shoulder. "How is it?"
"Evie, the bullet just grazed it… yeah it hurts like hell, but I'm okay." He turned his head and kissed her brow. He felt her sigh.
"I'm so worried, Rick," she said at last.
"He'll be okay, Evie. Jonathan's stronger than a lot of people think… and first thing in the morning, soon as Ardeth's people get back, we'll go get him. I promised." He squeezed her tighter and she laid her head on his shoulder.
"Jonathan will be fine… I know that." She murmured. "It's Ardeth I worry about."
"Ardeth?" Rick leaned back to look at her face. He couldn't believe she was serious.
"You didn't see him," she said, "In the shrine – looking at the text and when I read it. He was shaking."
Rick turned his head again to gaze across the clearing, through the fire at where his friend rested. His head was tilted back slightly, as though he were looking heavenward. His eyes were closed and his breathing, though perhaps a little fast for someone sleeping, was regular enough.
"No…" he turned back to his wife. "I think he was just tired, Evie. We don't know what he's been through before we got here and he…" he stopped as she was shaking her head.
"He's afraid, Rick… of something… I don't know what – and
not just for himself." He followed the
direction of her gaze toward the nearby tent where he knew. "He asked me to promise that if anything
happened to him, we'd leave
"He said that?" He tried to look in three directions at once, the tent, his wife and Ardeth.
"I tried to get him to tell me what was wrong, but you know what he's like… tight lipped as ever when it comes to either him or the Medjai… and as far as I can tell, he's worrying about both of those topics." She sighed. "Something the Elders told him when he went home for a visit."
Rick finally decided to look at Evie and saw the worry in her eyes. "I'll go talk to him in a little while," he told her reassuringly. She nodded and snuggled closer for a second.
"He also asked me to make sure that Meirionnydd is safe too, He took the cup from Evie's hand and raised it to his lips. "Rick, I think he's in love." Tea sprayed not only from his mouth in surprise, but also his nose. He was sure it was coming out of his ears too because he thought he'd heard her say that Ardeth was in love. He looked to her, wiping the droplets of tea from his mouth with his hand and raised his eyebrows, shaking his head.
"Why else would he care so much about what happened to her?" she asked with a gleam in her eyes that he knew very well. It was the one she always got when she was about to cause mischief.
"Evie…" he warned. "If he is… and you know that's a pretty big 'if' then we need to stay out of it. You are not going to play cupid, you hear me?"
"Never even thought about it." Evelyn assured him quietly.
**
She turned over again, trying so hard to get comfortable, but every way she turned, she thought of him. She turned onto her side, and the skins under her touched her cheek, soft as when he had brushed away the sand from her face. She turned the other way and she could smell his unique scent, that combination of Sandalwood, desert rose and the bite of something like cinnamon. She breathed in and she could almost feel him there with her… his body pressing down on hers, sheltering her from danger, keeping from her the threat of…
Breathless… she was breathless
with longing, with a need that was so physical it almost turned her inside
out. The warmth of skin against hers and
deep brown eyes – shining bright with tears – looked down on her from above… a
sweet sharp pain.
She sat
up suddenly. Throwing off the blanket
she welcomed the sudden chill. It helped
to keep the doors in her mind closed and stopped her from seeing thing that
weren't really there. Tears spilled from
her eyes. She caught her sob in her
hand. How could she stop him from
sending her home with the O'Connells? She wanted so much to stay.
This is your home, why should
you leave…?
The
voice sounded close behind her and she leaped forward and turned round,
expecting to see someone there. The
space was empty. Slowly she reached out
and felt for the blanket, which she wrapped around her shoulders, never once taking
her eyes off the empty space in front of her, not trusting her eyes.
"Wales
is my home," she whispered, bringing to mind the green hills and the towering
brown and white mountains that she'd known for all the nineteen years of her
life, with the cold and the damp that seeped into her bones and made her long
for the warmth of a fire… the warm soft arms of a mother to soothe away the
nightmares that had plagued her since puberty.
It's in your blood… the gift
belongs to all of Her Ladies.
"I'm just a girl… Nobody owns me!" She was vaguely conscious of the fact that she might be talking to herself, that the stress of everything in the last few days might finally have got to her and pushed her over the edge.
This is your home… you were born here… the sight is in your blood as in all of your kind. Why fight the truth?
"I'm not!" she whined. She was getting scared, she wanted to leave the tent; to run out and find Ardeth, or Rashid and make them stay with her, keep the voice away… but found she couldn't move. She could barely even breathe.
He took you from your
mother the day you were born – out of
"Who are you?" she whispered in fear.
The shadow in the
minds of righteous men… unnameable fear to some and to others… Her consorts
High Priest…
Flashes of images began to pass so quickly through her mind
that she couldn't catch a single one. She reeled and lurched from one emotional punch to the next until she
fell back against the cold and draughty floor of the tent, breathless and
sobbing. She had to get out, had to be
with others… needed to find Ardeth.
**
"Evie?" she looked up as Rick brought out the blanket and settled it around her shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me that Ardeth gave you that thing to carry?"
"Rick, I'm sorry," she felt so bad about keeping it from
him. She hadn't meant to, just that so
many other things had happened and were happening that it slipped her
mind. She wanted to make it up to him
and for a moment thought… but no. Things
were hard enough as it was. If he knew
then he would probably send her back
to
"I know you are honey," he said gently, rubbing her back through the blanket. "But that wasn't what I asked. I thought we could tell each other anything."
"We can," she sighed, felt even more awful and added, "but sometimes you do over react. And really it wasn't like that at all…"
"I only over react because I love you, Evie, because once I held you in my arms as you died, and I can't go through that again." He drew her against him, and she tucked the blanket around him too, sharing warmth with him as he shared hers.
"I know. I love you too," she told him. "And I really am sorry."
"Just no more secrets, huh?" He laid he head on the top of hers and caressed her hand against his leg. She gripped his knee, her heart heavy, but glad of his support.
"No more secrets," she whispered.
**
She was so beautiful,
her flawless soft skin, her short blunt cut hair that bobbed around her neck
when she tossed her head, as she often did in their love play, and the way her
eyes sparkled warmly when they met his…
He sat in the
shuttered window space looking back on Asru, his lover, as she slept in his
bed. He still felt the warmth of her
body against his even though he'd been sitting in the window for what seemed an
eternity. How could he give up this
perfection – and how could he not hate the woman responsible for that choice?
Isetnophret, what have
you done to me…? What have you done to
He ran his tattooed
hands through his long dark hair, and over his clean shaven face, trying
desperately to stop the tears he felt rising in his eyes. It would break her heart. It had already broken his.
"Kem?" Soft hands came down on his naked shoulders,
and her voice caressed him as her hands travelled up to take his hands from his
face. "What is it? What's wrong?"
He drew her down into
his lap and wrapped her tightly in his arms. He couldn't contain the sob. "I
love you Asru."
"Oh, my sweet love…"
she raised his face and softly pulled his full, lower lip into her mouth as she
kissed him gently… kissing away his tears as she had the first time they made
love and had done every time since. She
alone knew of the sensitive man that led Pharaoh's sacred bodyguards. She alone knew the truth of him and now he
was cutting off that lifeline… when morning came. "Come back to bed, my heart."
It was a cruel morning
that dawned.
The courtyard teemed
with the Medjai, resplendent in their pleated kilts and covered hair and fully
oiled, tattooed bodies and to the side, looking puzzled and alarmed that they
should be, as they were, under guard the seven Priestesses of Usert and their
servants and daughters. Members of the
nobility crowded in to hear what proclamation would be made… news had been
called since dawn that something was to be proclaimed.
As one, all knelt as
Rameses walked through the midst of the courtyard, holding lightly to
Nefertiri's hand, surrounded by twelve of the most capable of his Medjai, and
at their head, Sekhemkare walked, a stone in the place where his heart had
beaten. He forced himself not to look at
the space where he knew his love was standing… even though he could feel her
eyes on his face. He saw
Pharaoh-in-waiting to his throne and then turned to face the assembled masses.
"Speak, my First
Medjai." Rameses voice penetrated the sudden stillness.
Sekhemkare closed his
eyes and sighed, when he opened them again, his resolve was set in the stone
that surrounded his heart. "I speak
today with Pharaoh's voice and his blessing… A great wrong has been done to
you, oh Egypt, and though punishment has been swift on those whose hearts were
set in Evil against our Pharaoh's father, those whose crime – to bend the will
of the gods to suit their own ambition – may have been at the heart of what
planted that seed of evil in Anck-Su-Namun's mind, have not.
"In seeing that woman
as the living embodiment of Usert, Isetnophret, you have murdered a nation and
I cannot be certain that you and your kind will not attempt to do so again, in
spite of your assurances otherwise, and even knowing that you have broken the
Sistrum of Usert. It is not enough… and
so with…" he faltered, cleared his throat and began again. "So with all power that is mine as First
Medjai – as Sekhmet to Ra, so are we to Pharaoh – I make this decree and seal
it before the Gods in my blood."
He drew a dagger from
his belt and ran it, swift and deep across the palm of his hand, letting the
red of his life blood fall to the hardened sand at Pharaoh's feet. "From this day forth, no man among the Medjai
may place hand or even eye upon a woman of the Usertim. I forbid it. Pharaoh forbids it and the Gods themselves… By my life blood I swear
that any Medjai breaking this interdiction will bring upon himself and his
fellows the curse of ill luck in battle as in life, that his line will not
survive. Know that this decision was not
reached lightly… nor will there be mercy and nor will it be revoked until such
time as the harm to our people brought by this act is undone." He weakened then, and looked across to Asru…
she was supported by the Usertim on each side of her as though she hadn't the
strength to stand. He swallowed hard,
allowing the morning sun to blind the sight from his eyes.
"Isetnophret… You have until the day is ended to get your
women from
It never healed…
For months the gash
across his hand would not heal… an outward sign of the pain that still beset
his heart. Battle became his friend, the
more dangerous, the better and he spend as much time with the surgeon as he did
on the battlefield or at Rameses side… in the end though, it was the old wound…
"No, no, no!" he
rocked his head from side to side. Were
the sons of the Medjai getting stupid? "I have told you a hundred times if I have said this to you once. Keep up your guard or your opponent will
strike high!" He slapped the young man
with the flat of his blade on his chest, then readjusted his guard and struck
the sword with his own, without any force. "Again!"
The obedient pupil
leaped to the attack, swords blurred in the afternoon sun. An awkward parry brought a sharp pain to the
palm of his left hand. He growled to
push away the increase in the ever present pain, ignoring the way the handle of
the sword became slick in his hand.
"Now!" he commanded.
Oblivious to the
difficulties he was starting to have, the boy came forward in the routine he
was teaching that day. He let his
blades come high, checking the boy's guard. He smiled inwardly, he was good. He would make a fine Medjai when his training was done.
"So… defeat me boy!"
he growled as they locked together and tossed each other back. Realising the honour and the challenge the
boy came on, youth and speed were against Sekhemkare and he soon had to think
ahead, to read the boys mind to parry the strikes in time.
His blade slipped in
his injured hand and hadn't the strength to turn the blow aside or stop the
deadly sharp blade – they prided themselves on never practising with blunted
weapons… they were Medjai – from penetrating deep into his lung. He clutched at the boys arms for support, but
in horror at what he had done, the boy backed away.
"First Medjai!" Frantic cries that sounded a million miles
away… he could hear them… and then a cool hand. He opened his eyes.
"Nefertiri?"
"Don't speak, Sekhem."
She ripped off one of her veils and pressed it to his wound.
"The boy…" He saw her turn to the horrified boy and
beckoned him closer. Trembling, the boy
knelt at his side. Sekhemkare reached up
and pulled the necklace he wore from his neck, barely having the strength to
break the chord. He handed it to the
boy. "Your name, boy?"
"Wennefer, First
Medjai."
"Be swift of thought,
and deed, strong of heart and true to the vows you will speak as a
warrior. Wennefer – I recognise you as a
man, and as a Medjai warrior. May the
Gods bless you and keep you safe, my brother." He could barely whisper the words, and on the end of them tightened his
jaw against the wave of pain that swept him from consciousness.
Cold…
It was the cold that
woke him. He tried to get up, but warm
hands pressed him back to the bed on which he lay. The face that swam slowly into focus was that
of Nefertiri.
"Sekhemkare," she had
been weeping, it confused him and he reached up to try and touch her face. His hand didn't make it. She caught it though, between her own and
pressed it to her cheek. "Pharaoh is
worried about you. He sent me to sit
with you."
"Why the tears,
Nefertiri? You knew this day would
come." He knew without a shadow of doubt
that he was going to die. He welcomed
it.
"You cannot leave us,
Sekhem. Not now… Pharaoh needs you."
"He has other Medjai…"
he ran out of breath and it was a huge effort to take another.
"Then for the sake of
your son,"
"Son?"
"Asru sent him to you…
he is a beautiful boy…" She gestured to another woman nursing a child in the
corner of the room. "But he needs his father
and he needs a name."
The woman came closer
and he turned his head to look at the boy. So like his mother that fresh pain stabbed through his heart… he could
not go on… but this child would be life after the terrible darkness that had
been his last few months.
"Call him… Ankhefenamun,"
he said and fell back against the pillows. Nefertiri nodded and with the wave of her hand dismissed the woman. He opened his eyes and faintly saw a single
star shining through the opened window. He fought for the breath to continue, "And… what is the name of that
star?
"What star?" She turned to try and see what he was looking
at, but her angle was all wrong and she saw nothing.
"Take me to the
window… let me show you…" Sekhemkare
struggled to sit up himself when she made a face to argue, then she slipped her
arms around his shoulders and using all the strength she had, helped him into
the space beside the window. He watched
her as her eyes searched the heavens for the star he might have meant. He thought then that he saw exactly what
Ma'nakhtuf, who had died in a recent battle, had seen in her and said quietly,
"He loved you more than life, Nefertiri, you know that don't you?"
She looked at him with
tearful eyes… had she cared for his friend as she now did for him?
"I would have given
him a child… a son," she confessed.
"Dear Gods Nefertiri,
we are such a sorry pair!" he had to wait while a fit of coughing beset
him. She held him close, he felt as
though she were trying to give him back his life. "Can you ever find it in your heart to
forgive me?"
"You've done nothing,"
she said gently, easing him back against the cool marble of the wall – a relief
against the sudden fever that had crept upon him.
"I did not save your
father."
"No, Kem," She
shortened his name the way Asru had done and tears came into his eyes. "I
did not save him. I knew about Imhotep and Anck-Su-Namun, but
such was the price for his silence about me and Ma'nakhtuf."
"How did he know?"
"It doesn't matter." She looked out to the sky again and he
pointed out the star he meant. "The star
is called "Bay," Kem. It is the first
star to rise at night and the last to set. Nomads travelling the desert at night call it the 'First Bright Sun – herald
of the morning.'"
"Good then." He sighed the words, not having the strength
to do otherwise. "Let my son be so
called.
A hand came down on his shoulder and startled him out of the dream. He fought to hold it… he thought somehow it was important.
"Easy buddy," O'Connell's steady voice calmed his rapidly beating heart only a little – Bay… First Bright Sun – herald of the morning. "Some dream. Looks like you cut yourself."
Following the direction of O'Connell's gaze he saw that he had indeed – somehow – caught himself on the blade he had been cleaning before he'd closed his eyes to rest, a relatively light but long slice across the palm of his left hand. Rick handed him a length of cloth that he tied around his hand in a makeshift bandage.
"You want to talk about it?"
Ardeth looked hard at his friend. He'd made a conscious decision not to mention what he knew – and what became more certain to him with every moment – the precise detail of what the Elders had told him in case they changed their behaviour and took risks in order to help keep him safe. "I am just tired, O'Connell. That and I worry about how all of this will end… about Jonathan…"
"And Meirionnydd?" He could tell that O'Connell was trying to be casual, but was at the same time fishing for information.
"I have been thinking that it would be better perhaps if she
were to return to
"Better than what, exactly?" The question took him by surprise. When he did not immediately answer, O'Connell continued. "Better than her staying here with you?"
"The desert is no place for a gentle girl like Meiri."
"Well she wouldn't be in the desert, would she?" O'Connell had him in that, if Meiri were to stay – if he held on to that one shred of hope that it might be possible for her to remain – then she would be with the others… at the Oasis where the First Tribe made their home. "Well would she?"
He shook his head. "You speak of things that cannot be, my friend," he said sadly. "She would miss her home too much."
"Well here's something for you to add to that little hornets
nest buzzing around in your head," He looked over at O'Connell as he sat down
by the fire beside him. "Because if you
insist, sure, we'll take Meiri home with us and let her find her way back to
He frowned in confusion at the unfamiliar word. "Taff?"
"Welsh… Evie never did manage to explain to me why 'Taff' but I've met a few since we've been married and there's no way that Meiri is Welsh." O'Connell stopped speaking but he sensed there was more that he wanted to say.
"Go on?" he promoted.
"Ardeth, listen… you can tell me to mind my own business if you want – but you're my friend and," He sighed, as did Ardeth. "I know I don't know much about how these things are supposed to go for you guys… but killing a guy in front of the woman you're trying to impress…"
"O'Connell," He raised his eyebrows as O'Connell looked his way.
"I know, I know… mind my own business."
"Not at all." He leaned forward and sighed. "I know you mean well, but I will not begin something that has no future. I will not hurt her."
He watched O'Connell look up at him, not once, but twice. "You mean she was right?"
"Who?"
"Evie…" He met his friend's eyes that were still wide with surprise. "She said you're in love with Meiri…"
"O'Connell." He paused for just a heartbeat. "Mind your own business."
**
She woke with a small cry and scrambled away from the skins. How had she got back there?
With her heart beating like a steam engine in her chest she sat as still and as quietly as she could, listening for the hateful voice that had been taunting her before… or perhaps it had all been a dream.
She pressed her hand against her chest and the empty ache inside. Even if the voice had been in her mind she still felt the same overwhelming need to go to him… to find him and somehow make him listen to her and let her stay.
Pulling her borrowed clothes on as quickly as she could she left the tent and headed over to the fire. As she walked she looked around her, trying to spot Ardeth.
"Hello," she spun round as Evie came up behind her. "Are you alright?"
"Just couldn't sleep," Meirionnydd said absently still looking around.
"You're worrying about earlier," Evie told her, linking their arms together and drew her to sit with her in front of the fire. "About what happened with that man."
"I just couldn't sleep." Meiri repeated. Though she trusted Evelyn, actually liked her, she wasn't sure she was ready to discuss something that had touched her so deeply as that had.
"Listen… strange as it may sound, I know what it's like to feel so confused about someone. When I first met Rick, I thought he was awful. You know, when he first met me, he kissed me." Meiri blushed fiercely. She felt the embers from the fire pale by comparison to the heat in her face and knew it would be clearly visible in the firelight. "Oh my God!"
"Evie…" Meiri squirmed, "Please don't say anything. I don't think Ardeth meant to and it's really upset him."
"Heavens girl, I wouldn't dream of it." Evie playfully punched her arm. "After all, who would I tell? You and I are the only women here."
Meirionnydd stared into the fire, wondering if perhaps she should confide in the older woman. There were so many things she didn't know and Evie was his friend, perhaps she could tell her the things she needed to know to avoid falling foul of any more Medjai etiquette.
"I've messed up so many times Evie," she said mournfully.
"Nonsense!" Evie scoffed. "He adores you."
"But how can you tell?" she whispered, "I feel like I end up making him cross most of the time."
"He's a good man, Meiri. Deep down… at the most important level – where it matters." Meiri looked over at her as she put her hand gently onto her knee. "Go and talk to him. He's not the ogre he might seem. He's over there… circulating amongst his men."
Meirionnydd got up. She wanted to talk to Ardeth anyway, if nothing else to apologise for questioning him in front of his men. "Thanks, Evie."
"Just make sure you don't sneak up behind him." Meiri frowned in confusion and looked back at Evie. "Just in case."
**
"Is there peace under the sands?" Ardeth uttered the traditional question quietly as he approached Tarek, on watch at the northern edge of the camp.
"All is quiet, sir." Tarek answered.
"Good then." Ardeth moved to the top of a nearby dune. "Come and talk with me a moment."
"My lord?" Although clearly confused, the other Medjai moved to obey, moving to sit on the top of the dune with him.
"I have been thinking Tarek." Ardeth sighed. "Karida… when I returned to the Oasis, my sister spoke to me again about your love for her."
"My…"
"Ardeth." Ardeth corrected and held up his hand to stop the other man from saying anything further. "I know that always before I have been unwilling to discuss the matter but I know now that it is well past time the two of you were wed. If that is still your will." He looked across in time to see the happy smile breaking onto Tarek's face. It eased his melancholy feeling.
"Ardeth, nothing would make me happier," he said.
"Only promise me that you will care for her well… treat her as your equal and heed her counsel. She is a good woman, Tarek." He swallowed down a wave of emotion that was rising in him. "She will make you proud as your wife."
"I promise, my brother." Tarek answered.
"Then when we return home you will take her under your roof and make her your wife." He clasped the other man by the forearm and drew him into a fierce brief hug. "May Allah bless you both with many fine, strong children."
As he got up to take his leave of the other man, Tarek stopped him. "Is everything all right, my chief?"
"Yes," he said quietly, and then sighed. "All is well."
**
She spotted him as he was standing alone on the sand at the edge of the camp. The wind stirred the robes around his booted feet and teased his hair with its unseen fingers. She squinted up her eyes and tried to see what he was looking at out in the darkness.
She couldn't see anything. Remembering what Evie had said she tried to make as much noise as she could as she walked up to him. He heard her and turned his head.
"Meiri," he said quietly. He sounded tired. "You should not leave the camp."
"I didn't. I came to try and find you." She answered equally quietly as he turned all the way around to face her. "Ardeth, about earlier…"
He shook his head and she stopped speaking. Slowly he said, "I do not wish to fight with you, habibti."
"But I…"
"Meiri, in the larger scheme of things it does not matter." He held out his hand to her, and trembling – unsure of the sudden change in him – she put her small hand into his. "Are you cold?"
"What?" She blushed, realising that he had noticed that she was nervous. "Oh, erm… perhaps a little bit."
"Let me walk you back to the fire, little one," he said gently, and started walking with her, very slowly, toward the camp. "Really, you should not be on the edges of the camp."
"Because I'm a woman?" she asked, not meaning to sound as sulky as she did. She cringed when he stopped walking and turned toward her and flinched when he raised his hand. He stopped and then very carefully pushed back a strand of hair from the side of her face. She shivered as his fingertips skimmed the side of her cheek.
"Because it is not safe," he corrected her. "Meiri, you are afraid of me."
"No," she wasn't sure that was entirely true, but didn't want to offend him. "You startled me that's all." Then half to change the subject and half because it truly worried her she said, "What did you do to your hand?"
"I was careless when cleaning my blade," he told her, but was not to be swayed. "You have to know that I would never raise my hand to you Meirionnydd."
"I know," she breathed, and tightened her fingers around his, where he still held her hand. "I'm just a little bit jumpy that's all. I… I think I had another dream."
"You think?" He started them walking again, bringing them closer to the fire, where Rick and Evie sat talking quietly.
"I thought I heard a voice, a man's voice, talking to me," she said, and shivered at the memory of the voice. Lazy, almost sensual, but chilling in a strange kind of way.
"What did the voice say?" The way Ardeth looked at her, concerned and serious, chilled her more.
"I…" she blushed again.
"Tell me." He suddenly caught her up by the shoulders.
"Ardeth!" she gasped, her hand flew to his chest to steady
herself against him as her surprise unbalanced her. "It was confusing… talking about me, about
His grasp on her arms softened and she heard him sigh. "I am sorry." He drew her tenderly forward until her forehead rested on his chest.
"It frightened me, and you weren't there…" she breathed into the folds of his robes, no longer caring if he heard. She felt the deep breaths he took. The absent but warm movement of his fingers against her arms and was soothed by it.
"Meiri, listen to me." After a moment he drew her away and she found herself looking up into his expressive brown eyes, soft and tantalisingly dark in the starlight. "I do not wish to frighten you or cause you more distress, but please understand… if I thought for one moment that I could be with you, that I would sur…"
"Xatar!" The cry of alarm from the edge of the camp cut off what he had been about to say. As the camp suddenly came to life, his calm soft demeanour changed in an instant to the protective Medjai warrior at his heart. He pushed her urgently towards where Evie sat beside the fire.
"Stay with Evelyn!" he snapped and moved quickly toward the man that had called out, drawing his scimitars as he went.
**
He cursed inwardly, fighting to focus his mind and push back the very real fear that had erupted in him as the warning cry went up.
"What?" he demanded as he reached Fida, the sentry.
"It was just a glimpse… a man but not a…" The sand around them erupted and creatures poured into the camp. On all sides Ardeth saw movement – the same serpent headed warriors from the attack on them before only this time there were more of them.
"Heads!" he yelled to his warriors. "Take their heads!"
"Ardeth…?" O'Connell came up behind him. He swore, thinking fast. O'Connell's guns were not going to work against these creatures.
"Take this," he tossed a scimitar, hilt first toward his friend, and urgently drew the long curved blade from the sheath at his back. "You have to cut off their head. Like the Anubis warriors it is the only way to kill them."
Sensing movement behind him and seeing O'Connell's eyes widen, he spun round, instinctively ducking his head under the swing of the heavy incoming blade. He waited until the blade had reached the furthest part of the swing and the creature was open and unguarded, and then launched himself forward. The head came free of the creature's body and it exploded into a million sandy particles. That reminded him…
"Attack high, but guard low!" He advised his warriors and repeated the same more quietly to O'Connell in English.
He didn't have time to say more as more of the creatures came out of the dark toward them. All around him the sounds of the battle grew more and more desperate at the handful of Medjai warriors fought to keep the serpentine warriors out of the camp.
Ardeth found his right arm soon became heavy and ached with the effort of holding back the creature's blades. He could only use the knife for attacks. It would have shattered under the force of the creature's strikes.
The explosion of another creature before him as he took its head from its shoulders gave him the chance, and he tossed the knife and Scimitar to opposite hands. Thanking Allah once more for the fact that the creature's weapons were so slow he turned to face another – where the hell were they coming from? It seemed that as soon as one was cut down, another appeared out of nowhere to take its place. Knife and scimitar worked together, to force the creature's blade lower and lower until he could launch himself forward and take its head with the sweep of his knife while the scimitar held the sword – a wide bladed, extremely sharp khopesh – at bay, ignoring the slight nick he took to the top of his forearm as he did.
Two came at him at once, one from each side. He ducked under the leading edge of the first creature's blade, and then parried the strike of the second. Turning quickly he barely had the time to bring his blade down far enough to turn the back hand sweep of the first creature's khopesh. With one useable blade and two opponents, he was soon going to be in trouble.
"Need a hand there buddy?" O'Connell stepped in beside him, just as breathless as he was, but Ardeth had never been more pleased to see the American in all his life.
They worked together… sometimes fighting side by side, sometimes back to back when other creatures came at them out of the darkness beyond the camp. All around him he could see the rest of the Medjai, similarly beset… fighting in small groups or alone… fighting for their lives.
A trio of the snake headed man-beasts came at them, turning from the body of a fallen Medjai nearby. Ardeth felt his heart sink lower as he recognised Hashim… seasoned warrior and well respected comrade. He would have seen son into manhood, perhaps in the next few months… now his son would take his place among the Medjai in his father's stead.
"Ardeth, look out!" O'Connell's cry came barely in time for him to snap himself out of his melancholy. He threw himself into a sideways roll, but still caught the blunt end of the khopesh against his thigh. Now separated from his friend, he came to his knees and raised his scimitar to catch the swinging blade that came down toward his head.
Shaken, his arm almost numb from the force of the blow, he got his feet under him and forced his tired muscles through well practised routines. A strike, a second and then another numbing parry, over and over… trying to get back to O'Connell's side.
"Heads O'Connell, the heads!" he yelled as he finally made it back to his friend, who was slicing ineffectually at the torso of the creature in front of him, while somehow managing to dodge the second.
"I'm trying!" O'Connell gasped.
"RICK!" Evelyn's scream had them both turn, and duck the blades that came at them in that moment. Horrified, Ardeth saw at least five of the warriors had broken through the defensive line of Medjai and were heading for the women by the fire in the camps centre.
"Evelyn!" Rick answered, and launched a stinging attack on the nearest man-beast.
He too blurred into motion, finding the strength from somewhere to keep his exhausted muscles moving, forcing blades up until he could get under the guard of one creature and take it, in a shower of sand, to its death. He tried to force his battle toward the women, so that when he was done, he could give them the protection that he cursed himself for not ensuring from the beginning.
Sand showered against his back and he knew that O'Connell had rid them of yet another of the evil warriors, he started to smile but then a new sound all but stole the strength from his legs.
Meirionnydd screamed.
Turning his head he saw her struggling in the grasp of two of the snake headed warriors… her feet not touching the ground.
"Meiri, no!" he cried, and punched right past the creature in front of him, trying to get closer, trying to save her. Making the biggest error a warrior could ever make and placing an enemy behind him.
"Behind!" O'Connell's warning woke him to the danger and he spun around. But off balance, distracted and badly out of position the hilt of his scimitar caught on the bandaged that covered his injured hand…
His blade slipped in
his injured hand and hadn't the strength to turn the blow aside or stop the
deadly sharp blade
… It slipped, and he wasn't able to parry the blow, or turn aside the deadly blade coming in toward his exposed chest.
Something suddenly wrapped around his leg and a heavy weight thumped against his shoulder, stealing the breath from his lungs, not once, but twice as he hit the ground. Over the top of where he had been standing a flying scimitar whirled in the air and a second later, he and O'Connell, for that was the weight that was in that moment pinning him to the sand, were showered in sticky red sand.
But he had to get to Meiri. Heaving O'Connell off, he rolled over and came to his feet… but strong arms grabbed him.
"Ardeth, no," O'Connell's voice strained as he fought to hold him back. He was frantic at the sight of the creatures dragging her away. "You can't save her this way… you won't get to her."
"Let me go!" All rational thought vanished from his mind under the weight of the threat to Meiri.
"Listen to me," O'Connell forced him back a step further away from the serpentine warriors that were already withdrawing. "We know where they're taking her. 'Live today – fight tomorrow,' you told me that. It's good advice buddy!"
Breathing hard, feeling battered, bruised and heartbroken with worry, O'Connell's words started to penetrate.
"It's good advice," O'Connell repeated as he started to calm and stopped struggling so much.
"Meiri," he half moaned, half whispered – watching as the dragged her out of his sight into the dark night of the desert.
**
"If you stop struggling, I'll tell him to let you go," Meiri considered the options for the moment, and then continued struggling. Anck-Su-Namun continued, "All right then, I can wait until you've exhausted yourself."
"He killed Anton for what he did, you know," she said defiantly, "He'll do the same to you."
"He?"
"Ardeth." When Anck-Su-Namun started laughing she stopped struggling with the warrior holding her.
"Don't tell me the Medjai has caught your eye little girl?" she said. Meiri blushed and then felt suddenly cold all over when Anck-Su-Namun's face turned suddenly serious. "You can never be anything to him… forbidden."
Anck-Su-Namun nodded to the guard and he let go of Meiri. She almost fell, and bit back tears at Anck-Su-Namun's words. She wouldn't let her see how much she was hurting inside at the thought. But what did she mean, forbidden?
"Here," Meiri looked in suspicion at a bundle of clothes Anck-Su-Namun was holding out toward her. "Put these on."
"I will not!" she pushed them back toward the other woman.
She backed up a step, back into the arms of the warrior behind her as Anck-Su-Namun stepped up menacingly toward her. "You will put them on or I will dress you myself, here and now in front the warrior. As long as you co-operate, little girl, I have no intention of harming you… You're Usertim… and you're going to do something very important for me."
"Usertim?" Meiri had heard the word used before, of course
she had – but how could she be one of them. Anton had killed them all… and anyway she was Welsh, born and raised in
the sight of
She stopped and took the book that Anck-Su-Namun was holding out to her, open on a page close by the middle. A page dated with her birthday.
Finally, the mewling little thing is born. A girl, thank God… that makes life easier. These Usertim witches are all the same. They appear to be so strong at first, but wear down quickly. This one begged for her life – and actually thought I was going to let her and the baby go, but no. I watched her long enough to know that having her around – even without the bell, would be dangerous. It felt so good to finally start and get revenge on those responsible for Father's death… through the Usertim I'll get to the Medjai and my God will they pay when I finally get what I want. Once Sacred Warriors for God… they'll be mine… Suti's hounds to do with as I wish. The desert will be a very different place then.
"That "mewling little thing" was you," Anck-Su-Namun said as
she looked up tearfully from what was obviously Anton Ferrier's journal. "Born in
"Mam…" Meiri felt the tears start to flow over her face. Tears of sheer betrayal… that all the years of her life, the woman she'd loved as her mother, thought the world of, was only working for the pig of a man that had so unspeakably violated her life with nightmares and visions, that she thought she would never get it back.
"So you see..." Anck-Su-Namun added softly. "Even if he could get here to rescue you – which he can't – he wouldn't have anything to do with you, because you're Usertim, the last one in fact, and long, long ago his ancestor forbade the Medjai and the Usertim to have anything to do with each other. On pain of worse than death!"
"You're lying!" she sobbed, but in her heart she knew that it was the truth – from the visions and the voices, she knew…
"Why would I lie?" Anck-Su-Namun answered. She handed the clothes to Meirionnydd, who took them, shaking with tears. "Put them on. Become who you are and embrace what you were born to do."
"Ardeth…" Meiri sobbed his name as though he would hear and understand her pain, her confusion… her loss.
"He won't come for you Meirionnydd," Anck-Su-Namun settled an arm around her shoulder and drew her head onto her breast, stroking her hair. "And if he tries, I'll have to kill him."
"Please don't hurt him," Meiri raised her head to look tearfully into Anck-Su-Namun's eyes.
"All right," Anck-Su-Namun smiled, but the smile came nowhere near her eyes. "Just for you… I'll make it quick and painless."
"No," Meiri stepped away. "I'll do what you ask… anything, but you must promise not to harm Ardeth."
Wordlessly, Anck-Su-Namun nodded to her. Meiri wasn't foolish enough to trust her, but right now it was the best chance she had to buy herself – and more importantly the Medjai – some time.
"This belonged to your mother." Anck-Su-Namun raised Meiri's right arms and placed a leather bracer over her wrist. As it was tied into place, Meiri gazed at the hieroglyphics tooled into the leather and then painted in gold. "It says who you are Meirionnydd – a servant of Usert… descended from the line of the woman whose name was…" she pointed to a cartouche. "Asru."
**
Evie rolled over as Rick lay himself down beside her. He opened his arms for her and she moved to pillow her head on his chest. He sighed and she peered up at him in the darkness.
"How is he doing?" she asked quietly. She was very worried about Ardeth, had never seen him like that. He was always so calm and collected.
"Not so good, honey," Rick said quietly. "He's resting now, but I doubt he'll sleep."
"What happened out there Rick? I've never seen him like this." Evie leaned up on her elbow and looked down on her husband in concern. "Something's got him spooked, and it isn't just his love for Meiri."
"Hey that's enough… enough to get me spooked anyway," he said lightly, but gave Evie a look when she slapped his arm. "What was that for?"
"Just because he's a Medjai warrior, doesn't mean he was never going to fall in love, Rick O'Connell." She snuggled down. "I think it's kind of sweet actually. But it doesn't change the fact that something is really bothering him… and something to do with that shrine."
She nodded her head, determined that the wall of text was not going to beat her no matter how mixed up it was – or how obscurely religions the references were. She'd crack the wall and find the key to this whole mess. She stopped her train of thought. She didn't like the idea of Rick going off with the Medjai. Normally she wouldn't object, but those creatures… they were fierce and tough… and Rick just wasn't used to fighting with scimitars and swords. He was just as likely to get his head chopped of as he was to cut off the creatures' head.
"I'm staying here with you, Evie," he said, almost as though he had been listening to what was going on in her head. "He's leaving four of the guys with us, because he said he needs that translation, but he's got to take as many with him as he can."
"What about the reinforcements?" she asked… knowing that Ardeth had sent a rider to the nearest of the twelve tribes to gather more forces even before Meiri got taken, when it was just Jonathan that they had to rescue.
"They arrived. Twenty-five of the meanest, ugliest looking Medjai you ever did see." He said with a light caress of her arm that sent shivers down her spine. In any other circumstances it could be romantic, lying together beside a warm fire under a clear desert sky… but with the treat to her brother and her friends, that was the last thing on her mind. "Even the guy with the hook."
Evelyn shuddered. As long as she lived she didn't think she'd forget that guy… herald for some of the most terrifying, but also the most wonderful times of her life.
"Will that be enough? Those warrior-snake-things just seemed to keep on coming." Evie sat up then and peered across the clearing at her friend. He was talking quietly with one of his men. She struggled to remember the name of the other Medjai and thought that "Rashid" sounded right. The both looked terribly serious.
**
"And I shall need you to command them." Ardeth put his hand onto his friend's shoulder. "The chances are the forces will remain outside of their main camp to keep us from getting even close."
"Chances, Ardeth, but not a certainty." Rashid argued. "All I am saying, my friend, is that it is my belief you should take at least a small number of warriors in with you."
"The more of us enter the encampment, the less chance we have of getting both Jonathan and Meirionnydd out alive." He sighed, "I know what I am doing, Rashid."
"I did not question that, and would not."
"You know we are not enough in number yet to simply ride
them down and destroy them." Ardeth
explained patiently, "And I do not trust Anck-Su-Namun not to harm either
Evelyn's brother or Meiri. You know I
cannot allow that, just as well as you know why. So we must undertake the rescue as I have
described, in the
To his relief Rashid nodded calmly. "And how long will it take for them to arrive, Ardeth?"
"The message was sent – they will be here my friend. A day – two at most. And once we have them, and Jonathan and Meiri are freed, we will finish it."
"All right… the
"Take them out toward Telkhara and then double back to meet me at Bhariik, wait for us there. It is where the others will come."
Finally he leaned back against the sand and began to stare
up at the sky. He knew his long time
friend was troubled – wanted to go in and destroy the enemy as with any ordinary
battle. But this was not an ordinary
battle… and Anck-Su-Namun was not an ordinary enemy.