Chapter 2: Ardeth's Predicament
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Hamunaptra
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The intruder rode in at dawn. His horse was lathered, its eyes rolling madly. It burst into the camp, knocking aside baskets and nearly running into a cooking fire. When the man atop it hauled back on the reins, it went down on its haunches with a shrill whinny of pain.
Faisal ibn Sheik folded his arms and glowered at this person who had run into their camp like a madman. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The man grinned, revealing a mouth missing most of its teeth. "I have a message for you, Med-jai."
Faisal was commander of the most prominent tribe of the Med-jai. He was second only to Ardeth Bay, and he was not a man who felt fear very easily. "What is your message?" he asked contemptuously.
"Give over Hamunaptra," said the man. He reached down and unhooked something from his saddle, then threw it into the dust at Faisal's feet.
The Med-jai stared at the sword, recognizing it immediately. He looked up. "Where did you get that?"
"The wealth of Hamunaptra," the man repeated. "Or your leader dies." He yanked his horse's head around and the poor animal sprang to its feet.
"What's it worth to you?" jeered the man. "You've got three days to decide." He kicked the horse, and it jumped into a labored gallop.
Faisal stalked forward and picked up the curved sword that belonged to his leader. The men of the camp crowded near.
"Summon the Commanders," he said.
****
They said their name was O'Connell. Wanted to see you at the temple. That's where they're at.
The man who had delivered this message had been short and scrawny, reminding him of Beni, the little thief who had served Imhotep in order to try and stay alive. Unlike O'Connell, he had not hated Beni. Rather, he had pitied the man, and the desperate bargain Beni had made with the Creature in order to survive. A man would do a lot to stay alive, he knew, no matter how horrible the situation might be.
Words to remember, Ardeth thought grimly. He supposed he would find out soon enough just how far he himself would go in order to stay alive.
He didn't know three of them, but he had known Kadyn Nah on sight, of course. The only wonder was why it had taken so long for the man to seek to avenge his half-brother's death.
Night was falling; the interior of the tent was growing steadily darker. He had been unconscious most of the day, it seemed, for the last thing he remembered was riding up to the temple in the early morning sunlight. He sat on the sand where they had dumped him, hands manacled behind him. The chain connecting the cuffs was looped around the tentpole, preventing him from rising, and he had not even bothered to try. There was nothing to be gained by demeaning himself and wasting his strength.
He could hear them outside, the four men who had tricked him. He sat very still and tried not to think about how thirsty he was. This was difficult to do, with the throbbing pain in his skull, but the years of harsh self-discipline paid off, and he was able to put his misery aside for the present, and focus on the situation at hand.
With hindsight, he cursed himself for being all kinds of fool. He should have known something was not right. But he had allowed his anticipation at seeing his friends again to take hold of him, and he had believed the messenger wholly, even offering the man some money. He had told Faisal his destination, then ridden off, looking forward to seeing the O'Connells under circumstances where nobody's life was in danger.
The setup had been good, he had to admit. The four horses in front of the temple could easily have belonged to the O'Connells and Jonathan Carnahan. Relaxed and unwary, he had simply ridden right into their trap.
He closed his eyes. All the better not to see the waterskin hanging over his head, a malicious torment that reminded him all too well of the precariousness of his situation. He was alive on his captors' sufferance only, and he could not begin to guess what they wanted with him.
Kadyn Nah's motives were obvious, of course, but why hadn't the man killed him right away? Why take him hostage? Why bother?
Someone outside shouted, and Ardeth opened his eyes, squinting painfully. The flap of the tent bowed in, then was lifted as a large man came inside.
Ignoring the pain, Ardeth lifted his head, staring at his visitor. He refused to sit here with his head meekly bowed like some penitent. It would not be good to let them think they could break him.
Kadyn Nah gazed down at his prisoner impassively, arms folded. The warrior had once been a Med-jai, like his half-brother, but at some point he had cut the tattoos from his face, leaving behind ragged scars that only emphasized the coldness in his dark eyes. The resemblance to his dead relation was uncanny, an effect the man no doubt relished.
Four years younger than Lock Nah, Kadyn had worshipped his half-brother. When Lock Nah challenged Ardeth's father to the leadership of the Med-jai, the boy had not been present. He had not seen the duel which had ended in Sohail Bay's suicide, the old leader naming his son as his successor in the last moments before he died.
Kadyn had not seen what had ensued, the brutal fight between his half-brother and Ardeth Bay. He had not seen Ardeth defeat Lock Nah and cast him out from the Med-jai, exiling the beaten warrior.
Certainly Kadyn had not been in London to see Lock Nah try to kill Evelyn O'Connell in an attempt to take the Bracelet of Anubis from her. And Kadyn had not seen the hatred flow again between his half-brother and the leader of the Med-jai. He had not been there in the jungle of Ahm Shere when Ardeth had killed Lock Nah, ending over ten years of enmity.
But Kadyn, who had left the Med-jai when his half-brother did, had obviously heard the story. The hatred in the warrior's dark eyes left little doubt as to his thoughts. "Ardeth Bay. You remember me?" Even his voice sounded like Lock Nah's.
"I do," Ardeth said, careful not to move his jaw any more than he had to. It hurt to talk, it hurt just to sit here and look up at this man.
"Then you know why you are here."
He said nothing to this. Perhaps Kadyn Nah had forgotten, but a Med-jai did not beg. There was honor to be kept.
"What do you think they will give for you?" Kadyn Nah asked, smirking. "Will they give us what we ask for?"
"What do you ask?" Ardeth said.
"Hamunaptra," came the triumphant reply.
"Then you already know the answer." He looked away. The Med-jai would never give Hamunaptra to another. They had allowed the digging before, on his argument, because he had hoped the woman in charge would lead them to the books. He had hoped the Med-jai might take the books, and forever avert a repeat of the disaster which had nearly befallen them all when Evelyn Carnahan had read from the Book of the Dead. But even now, when its evil was buried elsewhere, Hamunaptra belonged to the Med-jai. They had been entrusted with the City of the Dead three thousand years ago, and for all this time they had kept that trust. They would not hand it over now, not even for his sake.
Kadyn Nah stalked forward. "Not even for their leader?" he hissed.
Ardeth looked up at the young warrior. "Especially not for me."
Kadyn Nah kicked him, a sharp blow to the ribs that knocked the breath from him and doubled him over as much as the manacles would allow. He clenched his jaw, stubbornly refusing to cry out, even when his captor kicked him again, breaking a rib.
Kadyn Nah squatted and seized his hair, pulling his head back. "That's all right," the former Med-jai breathed. "I'd rather get to spend some time with you."
Ardeth stared over Kadyn Nah's shoulder, striving to remain impassive. He would rather have died than admit his pain to this man.
"They have three days to make up their mind. But whether they offer to trade for you or not, I am still going to kill you," Kadyn Nah said quietly. He released his captive and stood up. "You think about that tonight." With a soft chuckle, he was gone.
Ardeth slumped back against the tentpole, fighting to maintain his composure. He had a good idea that by the time the three days were over, he would welcome death.
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There were lots of things he had done in his life that could be considered foolish, things that had seemed like good ideas at the time. But this, Jonathan Carnahan thought glumly, had to be the first time he had ever willingly done something foolish.
"And where exactly are we going?" he asked. He had not been keen to return to Egypt in the first place, and only his shallow desires had brought him back here. The diamond he had taken from Ahm Shere would not keep him forever, and he needed money to finance his lifestyle. He had hoped to find something useful on this dig, but so far all they had found were old bones and a lot of sand.
"Following the tracks," Rick said lazily.
"Yes, I see," Jonathan said. "And when the wind blows them away? What then?"
Nobody answered him. He knew they would be angry with him for bringing it up, but it was true. The hoofprints in the sand would not last forever, and sooner or later they would lose the trail. And then they would be lost in the desert, doomed to wander hopelessly until they either died or else found their way back to the temple through sheer luck.
He caught the tail end of an angry glare from Alex, and he looked away. So his nephew was ashamed of him. Well, that was to be expected. Everybody else usually was. Why not Alex?
"Jonathan," Evy said, her tone indicating that she was not about to take any crap from anyone, "maybe you and Alex should return to Cairo. It's not safe for you here."
He started to say what a good idea that was, but Alex beat him to it. "Mum! Don't send me back! I want to help."
"You can help by going back to Cairo," Evy said sternly.
"Dad!"
"Listen to your mother, Alex."
Jonathan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
"Uncle Jon, I don't want to go! I want to stay and help!"
"I think maybe we should do what your mother says," Jonathan offered, hoping to make peace with his sister. "She's usually right about this kind of thing."
"No!" Alex folded his arms and glared mutinously at his mother's back. "I'm not going."
Evy turned around in the saddle. "Oh, yes, you are."
"But it's not fair!" Alex burst out. "I'm nine years old now! Besides, I saw them. I'm the only one who knows what they look like. You could ride right by them and never know it was them."
Jonathan never knew why he said next what he did. Possibly the devil made him do it. "And he knows the language, Evy. Don't forget that."
Now Rick turned around, too, glaring at his brother-in-law. Jonathan gave Rick a breezy smile and turned to Alex. "We're staying, aren't we?"
After all, he had saved Ardeth Bay's life once before, in the Oasis of Ahm Shere, shooting from afar the man who had been ready to gun down the Med-jai leader. Why not save it again?
Alex grinned and looked hopefully at his mother.
Evy looked from her brother to her son and back again. "Ooh, you two!" She heaved a sigh. "All right, all right. But Alex, you stick close to your uncle."
"Yes, Mum," Alex said demurely, and giggled.
Jonathan smiled to himself. Yes, indeed, the most foolish thing he had ever done.
****
"Where would you go?" Rick muttered. They had stopped for the night, needing to rest both the horses and themselves. He stabbed a stick into the fire, sending sparks flying into the night.
"Hmm?" Evy, half-asleep already, looked up at him. "Did you say something?"
He drew a line in the sand with the burnt end of the stick. "Where would you go? I mean, if you were treasure hunters who had just kidnapped the leader of a nation of warriors. Where would you hide?"
Evy sat up, sand falling from her dark hair. "I don't know." She glanced at Alex, who slept on her left, curled up in a ball. "Do you think the Med-jai will do it?"
"Give up Hamunaptra?" Rick shook his head. "No."
"That's what I think." His wife sighed. "Jonathan is right. We'll never find them."
Jonathan himself was sleeping, stretched out behind Rick, and if the man hadn't been asleep, Rick would have cheerfully thumped him. He wished like hell Jonathan hadn't pointed out the futility of their task. Hearing stuff like that never made things any easier.
Then again, when had he ever let concerns about futility rule him? Who would ever have thought he would follow Imhotep down into Hamunaptra and defeat the High Priest? Who would have imagined that he would run through the jungle of Ahm Shere and save his son's life? Who would have dreamed he would destroy the Scorpion King and the Army of Anubis, all in one swift stroke? He had tried to do a lot of hopeless things in his life, and always before he had come out victorious. Why should this time be any different?
And dammit, he had a promise to keep. So maybe this wasn't exactly what he had had in mind when he promised Ardeth that he would do anything for the Med-jai. This was no time to be picky. The man's life was at stake, and Rick meant to do everything he could to save his friend. For all the times Ardeth had helped them, and for the sake of their friendship, a strange and wonderful thing in itself.
Glad to see me now? Ardeth had joked on the bus in London, and damned if he hadn't been. Although they had come together under the worst of circumstances, he knew a deep respect and liking for the Med-jai. They lived worlds apart, but they were men with similar passions, and the same stubborn determination to persevere in the face of all odds.
Rick jabbed the stick into the fire once more, then sat up, struck by a sudden thought. Ardeth had said *he* was a Med-jai, although he had denied it until the end, when he had accepted the truth in the temple at Ahm Shere, however briefly. Afterward, back home in London, wrestling with Alex's nightmares and Evy's insistence on her reincarnated past, he had allowed himself to forget what he had realized in the temple.
"Rick?" Evy looked at him, brow furrowed. "What is it?"
He turned to her, unsure how to say it. "If I am a Med-jai," he said slowly, "that makes Ardeth my leader."
She started to smile, then realized he wasn't joking. "Rick?"
"I know, I know. I don't really believe it, either. I just --" He stopped. He had never told them about his moment of epiphany in the temple. All they knew was that he had seen etchings on the wall that explained how to use the Scepter of Osiris. They did not know that for a brief moment, he had believed himself to be Med-jai, a warrior for God.
He tried to shrug it off, pretend he hadn't meant it. "Not that I'm going to start calling him, 'Your Majesty' or anything. Don't get any ideas."
Evy was not amused. "We owe him everything," she said firmly. "My life. Alex's. He turned his back on his people to help us save Alex. How can we forget that?"
She looked at Alex, then back at him. "I never told you, but when they tried to take the Bracelet from us, Ardeth ordered Alex and me out of the house. He was ready to fight them alone, in order to save us. I haven't forgotten that."
"Evy, nobody's forgetting," Rick protested. He wished now he had not said anything. "But you have to admit this isn't the smartest thing we've ever done. We have no way of knowing where to find these men."
"We'll find them," Evy vowed. "I know we will."
In the face of her tenacity, Rick was helpless. He simply nodded, accepting, wishing he could make her belief his own.
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