The Diamond of Ahm Shere

by Miss Becky

Three years ago, Jonathan was entrusted with the diamond of Ahm Shere. Now it has been stolen, and the consequences are dreadful. Jonathan and the O'Connells must race to prevent an old evil from arising, and a new one from claiming an old friend.

5. The Power of the Diamond

Chapter 5

The Power of the Diamond

Shortly before dawn, they entered Ahm Shere.

The barren desert bore no resemblance to the lush oasis they had seen three years ago. At first glance, there was nothing to distinguish Ahm Shere from the rest of Egypt -- the wits back home in London said if you had seen one desert, you had seen them all. But after the first fifteen minutes, Evy knew that Ahm Shere was very unique. Most deserts were harsh places, but Ahm Shere was utterly lifeless.

Skeptics would not believe it, but the desert was surprisingly full of life. The sands teemed with creatures that came out in the night, snakes and scorpions and insects that thrived on the heat and the darkness. Even if you could not see them, you could still sense them, and know they were there.

Not so in Ahm Shere. Evy stared down at the sands, aghast. Nothing lived here. Even the air was stagnant, without the faintest of breezes. Her horse laid its hooves down carefully, as though disliking to step on these dead sands.

She wrestled back a shudder. Many men had died in this place.

She had died in this place.

On the other side of Jonathan, Rick made a face. "Does this feel right to you?"

"It's all wrong," Jonathan said glumly.

Evy said nothing. She could feel the librarian in her wanting to speak, to provide rational excuses for the lack of life in Ahm Shere, but she refused to listen. She was no longer the naïve girl she had been in Cairo, and she knew there were some things in this world that simply weren't meant to be explained.

Ahead, the desert stretched out endlessly. She could see nothing to relieve the flat sands, no signs of anything other than the rolling dunes. She wondered how far it was to the center of the desert, to the temple had once stood in the center of the oasis. Would there be any signs to mark it, anything at all to commemorate their victory over Imhotep and the Scorpion King?

She could not decide if she wanted to see these things or not. Was it better to forget, or to remember?

****

They were on familiar ground now, and Ardeth pushed them to go faster. He was coldly certain that they would not be in time; he was only slightly surprised to find he did not care. Let them raise the Creature. Let them resurrect the Scorpion King. Let the Army of Anubis stalk the earth.

He would not stop them.

Jonathan had innocently given him the name of his enemy. He thought he knew the face, too. Of all the men they had taken prisoner at Hamunaptra three years ago, one stood out in his memory. A tall man, with a sternly cut mustache and flashing dark eyes. A man who did not whimper or beg for his fate. A man who knew the value of patience, and how to bide his time and wait for his day. Khalid Hassan.

Ardeth knew how to wait, too. Three thousand years had taught him and his people much about the art of patience. But today the waiting was over. Today he took the fight to them.

Today, men would die.

****

Rick drank deeply from the canteen, replaced the lid, and let it drop back to its resting position alongside the saddle. It hung from the pommel, snugged against his thigh, where he would be certain to miss it if for some reason the tie came undone and it fell -- to be without water in the desert was the surest way to die in the desert.

They had been in Ahm Shere for an hour now, and the sun was visible in the east, a ball of fire lurking low in the sky like an animal of prey waiting to pounce on the hapless humanity below. Rick thought forlornly of the bandanna he had somehow left behind on Izzy's plane, and wondered what the pilot was doing right now.

And without warning, the day went supernova.

****

Brilliant white light seared the sky, and Jonathan flung up his arm reflexively, ducking his head and shielding his eyes. He heard himself cry out, but the sound was lost in the immense roaring that swept through the morning.

The light died, but the roaring continued. His horse pranced nervously under him and screamed. Jonathan fought to keep his seat and looked around wildly.

Around him, Ahm Shere came to life.

Green shoots sprang from the sand, rocketing upward with astonishing speed. Palm trees raced toward the sky and sent forth delicate leaves. Tremendous ivies curled about tree limbs, and violently colored flowers bloomed in seconds.

The horses went mad. Men began shouting, and someone fired a gun. Jonathan threw himself forward in the saddle, trying desperately to keep from being thrown. On his right, a tree impaled Rick's horse, and the stallion uttered a piercing scream. Rick was flung to the ground and lay still where he landed. Evy shouted something, and then her voice was lost in the general cacophony of life.

Jonathan's horse reared high as a fern burst from the sand directly under its nose, and he cried out miserably, clinging to its mane, standing almost straight in the stirrups. He had ridden in several fox hunts and was an experienced rider, but he had never been on a horse when the countryside erupted in insanity. It occurred to him that if they gave out trophies for Best Rider During A Natural Disaster, he would be a shoo-in.

His horse landed on all fours again, and he fought to look around him, to see everything. Rick was still on the ground, and Evy was struggling to control her horse. The Med-jai were scattered, some on foot and others still in the saddle. He saw one man in a tree, run through by one of those rapidly growing palms, and he swallowed hard at the sight.

And at the head of their disintegrating group, Ardeth Bay kicked his horse into a gallop and left them behind.

Jonathan gaped after him for a moment, then thudded his heels into the horse's sides. The animal leaped forward, eyes rolling madly, and Jonathan held on for dear life, chasing after his friend.

****

"Rick!" Evy's voice faded in and out.

He blinked, rolled over and groaned. No, that wasn't right. Evy was there. He was the one fading in and out.

"Rick!" He opened his eyes again and she was there, kneeling over him. A long scratch down one cheek oozed blood, and her hair had fallen from its careful knot. Her dark eyes were frantic. "Rick, talk to me."

He stared up at her, her beautiful face framed by dark green foliage. "I think my arm is broken," he said.

She went white. "Are you sure?"

He sat up with a pained grunt, holding the offending limb close to his body. "Pretty damn sure."

"Oh, Rick." The words sounded very small.

He looked up sharply then, forgetting his own pain. "What is it?"

The jungle around them was perfectly still. No wind stirred the trees, no insects sang in the undergrowth. The blue of the sky seemed very far away.

He stood on his own, ignoring Evy's outstretched hand. Around him the Med-jai stood alertly, holding their weapons out. There was no sign of either Ardeth or Jonathan. The warriors glanced at each other and began to draw in, forming a tight circle.

In the distance, the oasis began to swell. He could not see them, but he heard their approach, and he felt the noose about his neck draw tight, cutting off his air.

"They're coming," Evy breathed.

Rick pulled a gun with his good left hand and pulled back the hammer with his thumb. He placed himself in front of Evy, protecting her with his body. "You'd think I'd get tired of saying this, but we are in serious trouble."

****

"Wait for me!" Jonathan called. He was appalled at how fast Ardeth's horse was running. Tree branches scraped at his hair, wanting to claw him out of the saddle, and he had to duck low to avoid a sudden blow. There were no paths through the undergrowth, and thorns snagged on his boots and in the horse's hide. When it slowed, he kicked it, not daring to let Ardeth out of his sight.

"Ardeth, wait!"

The Med-jai's horse squealed and its head plunged down, a move so sudden that for a startled moment Jonathan thought Ardeth had hauled back on the reins so hard the horse had fallen. Then the stallion turned a complete somersault, throwing its rider, and Jonathan realized the truth; the horse had stepped in a hole and broken its leg.

He pulled his horse to a stop, and the animal whinnied, ears laid back. The instant Jonathan was on the ground, it took off, racing back the way it had come, tail streaming out behind it like a gaily waving banner. Jonathan watched the horse go for a dumbstruck moment, then turned around. "Ardeth!"

The Med-jai chieftain was almost out of sight already, running through the jungle without hesitation. Jonathan glanced down at Ardeth's horse, wincing at the animal's weak struggles to rise, then began running. "Wait for me!"

"There's no time!" Ardeth shouted. "We must hurry!"

He leaped over a dense bush, dodged a palm, ducked a low branch. "What about the others?" he shouted, and Ardeth did not answer.

Around them, the oasis became very still. Nothing moved, no sounds at all pierced the thickness of the morning air.

Ardeth skidded to a halt and drew his sword. He whirled around, eyes blazing. "Something's here," he said grimly.

"What's here?" Jonathan cried. He had a sudden vision of the pygmy mummy screaming at him, and the hair on the back of his neck rose. "Who is it?"

Something was coming through the trees, moving steadily toward them. Jonathan reached for the gun he had stolen from Rick and pulled it, holding it in both hands. It trembled in his grip, and he tried to point it everywhere at once, his eyes darting in all directions. "Is it the pygmy mummies?"

"Many things once lived in Ahm Shere," Ardeth said flatly. "And many things died here."

Jonathan swallowed hard. "That's not very comforting."

The thing in the trees drew nearer. It sounded big, larger than the pygmy mummies, and Jonathan's fear ratcheted up another notch. He took a quivering step backward, closer to Ardeth. "Shouldn't we run?"

He saw a flash of red amid the lush green, then sunlight glinting off something metallic. Someone was laughing.

Jonathan cocked the gun and willed himself to stop shaking.

A man stepped from the trees. He was tall and powerfully muscled, and he wore red and black robes with solemn dignity. He carried a sword in one hand and his eyes were alight with malice. He smiled, an expression that might have been mistaken for delight on someone else's face. "Ardeth Bay."

Ardeth lifted his head proudly. "Lock Nah."

****

"Rick…"

"Where's my bag?" He looked around frantically, searching for the gunnysack that had held all his weapons. There was dynamite in there, and more matches.

The mummies were howling now, screeching in their high-pitched voices. The trees shook as they came closer.

Evy darted forward and seized the bag, yanking it open as she scurried back to his side; she knew what he was after.

"Burn it!" Rick shouted. "Burn it down! It's the only way!" They could not make a stand against those vicious, one-minded creatures. They would be ripped to shreds if they stayed where they were.

Evy dug into his pocket, grabbing the book of matches there.

The first pygmy leapt from the trees. One of the Med-jai shot it down in mid-air, and its body exploded, the remains falling to the ground, lost in the undergrowth.

"Take it!" Evy lit a match and held it to the wick of the dynamite. She tossed it to the nearest Med-jai.

They burst from the jungle, a mass of hideous, shrieking rot. Around him, the Med-jai opened fire.

Rick took careful aim and began shooting.

****

The tree at his back was spiny and poked at him through his clothing, but Jonathan scarcely noticed. He stood among the palms and watched the duel before him with detached horror.

He recognized Lock Nah, of course. He had watched as Ardeth first killed this man in the oasis three years ago, the sight of his rifle trained on any who might get near enough to interfere. He had been ready to shoot the man in the red robe then, if things began to go badly for his friend, but Ardeth had prevailed in that fight, and in the end he almost hadn't been fast enough. He had grinned and allowed himself a moment of victorious triumph, and in that split-second another man had stepped up smartly and put his gun to the back of Ardeth's head. In terror, he had closed his finger over the trigger, praying he had not just shot the wrong man.

Now Lock Nah was here again, brought back to life by the power of the diamond of Ahm Shere. Nothing else could have produced that blinding white light, and Jonathan felt a creeping terror settle over him when he tried to think of what else might have been resurrected by the stone.

Who else was loose in Ahm Shere?

Three years ago, from the distant cliff, the swordfight he had witnessed had looked like a play, something staged by two actors. Now, only a few feet away, he saw the brutality of it, the savagery inherent in the motions. He saw the lust for murder in the eyes of both fighters, and he feared for himself -- they would cut him down in an instant if he got in the way.

Being dead clearly hadn't hurt Lock Nah any. The man fought with strength and skill, with a calm patience that only the dead could know. And Ardeth, grief-stricken and enraged, was losing the battle.

Jonathan raised the gun, then lowered it again. The combatants moved so quickly in their dance that he had no chance to fire. They circled and came together and separated, all in a matter of seconds, and he was afraid to shoot.

Lock Nah smiled. He said something in Arabic.

Ardeth flinched as though slapped. Furious rage darkened his face. He ran forward, shouting something in his native language, something that could only be a curse.

"No!" Jonathan threw himself off the tree, unsure what exactly he hoped to accomplish, knowing only that he had to stop this.

Lock Nah stepped into the attack. Their swords crashed together, then Ardeth's blade was wrested from his hand. It spun through the air, and Jonathan had to quickly sidestep to avoid being slashed by the spinning steel.

Still smiling, Lock Nah ran Ardeth through.

****

The oasis was on fire.

Hand in hand, they ran. They were vaguely aware of screaming, and gunfire, but they left their weapons behind. They knew only the need for safety, and so they ran.

****

For a moment they stood still, as though uncertain what to do next. Lock Nah's smile was frozen in place. Ardeth stared at him, wide-eyed with shock. Jonathan stood next to them, the cry still lingering on his lips.

Then from behind them, gunfire erupted, shattering the stillness. Animation bled back into the tableau before him.

Lock Nah wrenched his arm back and his sword slid free of Ardeth's body, the blade coated a bright scarlet. Ardeth staggered back a single step.

"Now you will know," Lock Nah promised fiercely. He lifted his arm, ready for the final swing of his sword.

Jonathan let his left hand fall to his side. "I think not," he said, and fired.

Lock Nah's head whipped to the left; the sword dropped from his hand. His entire body arched backward, then he fell heavily. Before he could hit the ground, his corpse exploded outward in a spray of black sand.

Instinctively Jonathan turned away from that blast. When he looked back, Ardeth was still standing there, staring at the place where Lock Nah had last stood. Black sand had settled on his hair and shoulders, but he seemed oblivious to it. Blood darkened the front of his robe from the wound in his chest.

Jonathan thrust the pistol into his belt. "I--"

Ardeth jerked, the dazed shock clearing from his eyes. He looked at Jonathan, then down at the black sand on the ground. "Not real," he muttered. He turned around and began walking further into the jungle, in the direction he had been headed before Lock Nah had emerged from the trees.

"Where are you going?" Jonathan cried. He ran forward. "What do you mean, not real?"

Ardeth took another step, then stopped. He swayed on his feet, then collapsed to his knees with a low groan. He pressed his left hand to his chest. "He was not real," he repeated. "This is not real."

"Not real!" He almost screamed the words. There had not been this much blood even when Evy was stabbed. Had Ardeth lost his mind, finally snapping under the pressure? He leaned down. "You need--"

"Listen to me!" Ardeth reached up and seized his shirtfront, yanking him downward with a startled squawk. "He was not real, he was not there. You did not kill him. This--" he held up his bloodied hand -- "this is not real." He groaned. "Must believe." But whether he was exhorting Jonathan or himself was hard to tell.

"How can it not be real?" Jonathan asked, squirming in Ardeth's grip. From here the wound certainly looked real enough. He had to look away from the sight of all that blood.

"The diamond cannot do this," Ardeth said. He closed his eyes and bowed his head against the pain. "Only the…only the Book of the Dead. The diamond's power is…is illusion. This is not real."

"You mean none of this is really here?" He waved his hand about. "We're still really in the desert?"

"Yes." Ardeth let go of him and held both hands to his chest.

Jonathan straightened up and turned in a slow circle. Must believe.

He tried it. He stared at a palm tree, seeing the texture of its trunk, the way its leaves moved in the breeze. You're not really there, he thought fiercely. You don't exist.

And the tree vanished.

"Whoa!" He staggered back in shock. Where the palm tree had stood was only a patch of golden sand, the same sand he had ridden over earlier this morning. He blinked rapidly, unable to believe it, and as he did so, the tree reappeared, reasserting itself with alarming solidity. "Wha--?"

"Jonathan." Ardeth whispered his name.

"Did you see that?" He pointed at the tree, incredulous. "I made it disappear!"

"Because you believed it." Ardeth looked up at him. "As I believe in this."

Jonathan stared at his friend for a moment, then recoiled. "No!" He seized Ardeth's arm, trying to pull the Med-jai to his feet. "Oh, no, you don't. You'll die if you do that. Come on! We've got to get to the temple."

Ardeth pulled his arm free. "Go," he said.

Panic yammered in the back of his mind. Where was Evy when he needed her? She always knew the right thing to say. Or Rick. Rick would just bodily pick up Ardeth and force the Med-jai to go on. Everybody else would know what to do, except for him.

He took a deep breath and tried. "If you die now it will be the most selfish thing you have ever done in your life."

Ardeth glared at him. "I told you to go."

Jonathan ignored this. "You only want to be with your family. So you're going to give in now. Forget about everybody who needs you. Forget about the Med-jai." He rushed on before he could lose his nerve. "Forget about your son."

Ardeth was on his feet in a flash. "Don't you talk about my son!" He grabbed Jonathan, one arm across the Englishman's throat, forcing him back until Jonathan slammed up against a tree.

"Why not?" Jonathan shot back. "At least I'm thinking about him. It's more than you're doing."

Ardeth hit him. His head snapped back and bounced off the tree; bright stars exploded in front of his eyes. He felt his knees buckle and he sank to the ground, hearing a high ringing in his right ear.

"I ought to kill you for that," Ardeth said wearily. Jonathan heard him walk over to his fallen sword and thrust it back in its sheath. "Instead it seems I owe you my life."

In the distance, he could still hear the gunfire, and screaming. These things had never stopped, but he had somehow blocked them out until just now. Cautiously he looked up, wincing at the pain that bolted through his skull. Ardeth stood over him, holding out one hand.

He took it and stood, bracing himself against the tree, groaning at the throbbing ache in his head. "I'm sorry."

Ardeth looked at him, and for a moment his stern façade wavered, revealing the desperate hurt beneath. "You were right," he said. "I thought only of myself, and how to end my pain. That was not the way."

"So you're--" He made a gesture.

"The wound is gone," Ardeth said. "I told you, it was not real."

"But if you had believed it was, you would have died from it."

"Yes." The Med-jai glanced over his shoulder, toward the sound of the battle raging behind them. "We must hurry."

Jonathan pushed himself off the tree. "Right." When Ardeth began walking through the jungle, he followed, going further into Ahm Shere, toward the temple that should not be.

**********