Imhotep stood as still as a stone, listening to the pure silence of the night in the former Ahm Shere. It was an incredible change from the shrieks and moans of Hell, the crackling fire and even more, the intense feeling that surrounded everything. Contrary to most belief, Hell was not physical sensation. It tore at your mind, burning it, twisting it. Out here, in the cool desert air, Imhotep could feel the silence almost physically, and so he stood, breathing calmly.
Ardeth led them through the ranks of his men to the nearby camp, concealed by dunes and a cliff. Rick felt a chill as they walked near the cliff's edge, because he could remember riding underneath it twice, and both times, he had looked up to see Ardeth and his men staring down at him. He had never been on top of the cliff. This must be their lookout point, he thought, shivering a bit. Ardeth introduced them to several high-standing Med-jai, who bowed in awe and respectfully greeted the O'Connells as the legends they were. The O'Connells were a little surprised at the treatment they received, but it didn't worry them too much. Evy asked at one point, "Where are all the women?" Ardeth had pointed down past rows and rows of tents, to a part of the camp slightly apart from the rest. "They sleep separately," he had said shortly. Rick understood perfectly, but Evy delicately refrained from further questioning.
An extra tent was hastily resurrected near Ardeth's, built a bit larger in order to accommodate both male O'Connells. It was only with much arguing that Ardeth managed to convince his advisors that Evy could stay next to her family, in her own tent. Evy was glad that she didn't have to sleep far away from the people she knew. The evening fire had already been started, and supper was cooking over the flames. Rick asked Ardeth what there could possibly be to eat out in the desert, and then decided that he didn't want to know. It's probably camel or something, he thought. In fact it was horsemeat, since three of the horses had recently died of exhaustion. Nobody told Alex what they were eating, since he had proven early in life to be a picky eater.
Imhotep had stood there for half an hour, feeling his freedom, relishing the fact that Hell was miles underground, far away. Now he moved, stretching his long-dormant muscles. He was not solid; he knew that. His body had been the first thing to die in Hell, and it had taken all of his strength to keep his mind from going too. But here he was, alive. His soul was intact, though corrupted, as it had always been. The Spear was still in his hand, and now he turned his thoughts to its power. He had literally ripped a hole in Hell, and pushed himself out, sealing the tear behind him. Now all of that power was at his command, and he tried to think of what to do with it. He knew that he was going to punish the O'Connells, but the question was how? Most of his plans had involved physical things, such as torture and death. As a soul, he was fairly sure that he would not be able to do so much as touch his enemies. He was also fairly sure he was invisible.
A dozen schemes rushed into his mind, a hundred ideas of how to cause those lovers pain. On a sudden idea, he touched the Spear to his forehead and felt for the O'Connells, searching for their presence in the world. To his delighted surprise, they were in Egypt- and near Hamunaptra. That gave him a very interesting opportunity. He wanted them to suffer, wanted them to see the pain in each other's faces as they realized that they would be separated forever. That was what he wanted. Feeling through the spear, he also noticed the souls of several hundred Med-jai all around them, including the chief of those cursed bodyguards. As an added twist, he might also be able to give considerable pain to the Med-jai⦠but it would mean he would have to go into Hell again for just a moment. Breathing the cool air regretfully, he pointed the Spear towards the ground.
After supper, Ardeth let the O'Connells unpack what little belongings they had brought, and assigned a young warrior to watch the fire. He could just make out the faraway, flickering fire of the women's camp, still going strong. Inside his own tent, he stripped and wrapped himself in a single blanket. His muscles relaxed a bit painfully as the stress of the day soaked into the ground. It was almost more than he could handle to have the O'Connells in his camp, though they didn't realize the trouble they were causing. English ate far more than his warriors, and Americans ate more than the English. That little family had eaten a single warrior's week of rations. He was just glad that they were leaving tomorrow, because Rick at least knew when his welcome was worn out.
Ardeth had almost fallen asleep when he heard a strange murmuring. It sounded like someone reciting an incantation, and he wondered if the O'Connells were still experimenting with Ancient Egyptian scrolls. He sat up quietly, listening for the sounds from the O'Connells' tent, but they were all asleep. He could still hear the faint voice, but he realized that it was not coming from a tent. It seemed to be coming from his own head. Then the pain started. His head started to hurt, like a headache, but sharper, as if someone was peeling the inside of his head away from his skull. Squeezing his eyes shut, he clamped his head in his hands, but it only got worse. Then his hands started to hurt too, and his arms, and his legs- and soon his whole body felt like it would explode. Back arched, he clenched his teeth to keep from screaming and frantically tried to think what could possibly be causing this. Then the pain stopped, and his body fell limply to the ground. It took him a second to realize that he hadn't fallen with it.
