Chapter Three - A Prince of Egypt
Throughout the rest of the day, they waited, but Ardeth did not regain consciousness. Bashaar said nothing, but the O'Connell's knew this was not a good sign. His breathing remained shallow and his pulse weak. The fact that he was still breathing and had a pulse was the only thing that kept them hopeful. On the other hand, his fever seemed lower and that was encouraging.
Twilight filled the sky and Evy went to prepare some food. Rick was sleeping, his week finally catching up with him. Bashaar sat quietly near his leader and only nodded when Alex approached. Alex sat next to the chieftain, his small hand reaching out to hold one of Ardeth's large ones. Deep within his child's heart, he knew that a mere touch could be important.
"I know you can't hear me," he said quietly, "but I want to thank you for helping Mum and Dads find me. I know they'd never tell you, but you mean a lot to them. They talk about you sometimes. They even said you might come and visit but you never did. I would have liked that. I mean, I would like to learn about the Med-jai. Dad doesn't really know much and Mum gets too lecturey about it. I want to know the real things." Alex looked up at the sky for moment, thinking. "Dad says the only way to kill an Anubis' warrior was to cut off his head. I want to know how long it takes to learn how to wield that scimitar properly. Dad can't tell me that. He doesn't even know how to use a scimitar."
"He does. But his form is terrible."
Alex looked around to find the source of the voice. "What?"
"Your father has used a scimitar but he does so badly. I will show you the proper way."
For a moment, Alex thought he was hearing things. Then he looked down. Ardeth's eyes were open. "Mum! Dad! Bashaar! He's awake." The boy's cries brought the others in a hurry.
"Allah be praised, you are awake at last," Bashaar said joyfully. "Oh, Ardeth! We've been so worried!" "I was talking to him and he just woke up." "You must drink the potion at once." "Are you comfortable? Can we get you anything?"
Bashaar, Alex and Evy talked over each other, each trying to be heard. Ardeth winced and looked helplessly up at Rick. Rick took pity on him, he knew how it felt to have someone yelling over you when all you wanted was peace. He shrugged an apology to Ardeth and shouted, "Quiet!" The talking stopped instantly. "Much better. Ardeth, old buddy, how ya' feeling?"
"As you put it so succinctly in London, it hurts like hell."
Rick smiled in sympathy. "I bet. Now Bashaar here has something you need to drink. And then Evy gets to ask you if you need anything. But," he gave the two a warning look, "they're gonna do it quietly and one at a time. Alex is gonna get you a nice drink of water to go with that little potion of Bashaar's. Alex?"
Alex looked up at his dad and scampered off. Rick looked at Bashaar and held out a hand, inviting him to continue. After Bashaar had given him the medicine and Evy had seen to his comfort, they had moved away, sensing that Rick wanted a moment alone with his friend.
"Ardeth, if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I'll kill you myself. Understand?" Rick's voice betrayed all he was feeling. Ardeth nodded. "Now why the hell didn't you tell us you were still hurting? No. Don't answer that. Why don't you tell me instead why you did this? Why did you come all the way out here knowing that you were gonna fall flat on your ass in five days regardless of what happened? And don't give me any of that sacred oath bull, either. I know something's going on with you, so spill it."
Ardeth stared at the stars above him, bright now in the evening sky. He was weary. Beyond weary. He felt as if he could sleep forever. Still, it unnerved him that his friend could see beyond the cloak of duty. He sighed, wincing as the deep breath pulled at his wounds. His eyes began to close of their own accord. He was so tired. The answer fell from his lips unexpectedly. "I, too, know what it is to lose all that I hold dear."
The answer was so quiet Rick didn't think he heard it at all. He leaned closer and took Ardeth's hand, surprising himself. "What?"
Ardeth turned over bright eyes to Rick. "My wife. My son. I could not see you suffer that, my friend." Then his eyes slid shut, blessed sleep claiming him. A single tear escaped from under his lashes, sliding silently through the dust that covered his cheek. A slim hand reached out from behind Rick and wiped it away. Evy's hand then rested on her husband's shoulder, comforting and solid. "I never knew," Rick choked.
Bashaar's voice came softly from beyond them. "He never speaks of it."
Evy turned toward the voice. Izzy had yet to light the lamps so Bashaar was only a silhouette against the sky. "Will you tell us?" she asked.
Bashaar nodded slowly. "It is time you knew the truth," he said. "Once, of a time, there was a prince of the desert. A prince of the Med-jai. He was to take the throne of the Med-jai king when his time came as he had overcome all the trials laid before him. He was a mighty warrior, considered worthy by his people and by his king.
Among the Med-jai tribes there was a young woman of beauty and kindness. A young woman named Iman who loved the prince as much as he loved her. Their's was a match determined at birth made all the sweeter by the fact that they loved one another. And so the time came and they married.
Allah smiled upon them, quickly sending them a son, Haytham. They lived happy and content and after a time Iman gave forth the happy news that she was to bring another child into the world. Having waited some years to conceive again, she wanted to be with her husband when her time came, so, in her eighth month, she traveled with her son from the city of the Med-jai to the desert camp near Hamanaptra. Accompanied by many Med-jai, she was unafraid of ambush. On the night before she was to reach her husband, the caravan was attacked by the members of an ancient cult who worshipped He Who Must Not Be Named. Their hatred of the Med-jai ran deep as the Med-jai were the ones who protected the City of the Dead and kept all from entering it. They showed no mercy. In the Med-jai camp, the prince could feel that something was wrong, so strong was his bond with his beloved. He gathered his men and rode out to meet the caravan. The prince urged them on, a feeling of terrible foreboding driving him faster into the night. He arrived at the caravan to find all who traveled with it dead or dying.
He tore the wreckage of the caravan apart, searching for his wife and son. He found them at the center of the carnage. His son was wrapped in his mother's arms, dead. His wife near death. She begged only one thing of him. Take their living child from her womb that it might live. The prince refused, knowing that to do this would certainly cause her death, but Iman knew in the way of those who are about die that there was no hope. Again she begged him to take the child. The prince was desolate. He prayed to Allah, begging for both their lives, offering up his own life in exchange. Iman, who wise, chided him gently, and she revealed to him a vision that had come to her as their son died. A great disturbance was coming, one in which he would be needed. But before this happened, he would save the life of another's son, so that another would not suffer as he had.
As the prince contemplated this, and held his wife in his arms, the child in her womb moved against the prince's hand. Iman begged of him one last time to remove the child that she might see it before she died. The prince could not refuse her. He knew in his heart that she would not live, so he cut the living child from Iman's womb. Iman beheld her daughter and breathed one last word - Azizah.
The prince raised his voice in anguish and grief to the heavens, and swore vengeance on those who had done this thing. He sent the child back to the camp where she could be cared for, then he and his warriors rode into the desert to avenge the deaths of their clansmen. And though the cult members outnumbered the prince and his men, their rage made them strong and the cult was destroyed. Only one, the cult's leader, escaped, and he lived to recruit others in his terrible quest. To this day his name is reviled among our people."
There was no sound on the small craft. Only Evy's muffled weeping and Izzy's sniffling rose above the quiet. Finally, Rick broke the silence with a hoarse whisper. "When did all this happen?"
"He married one year after He Who Must Not Be Named rose the first time."
"So his son would have been as old as Alex." Evelyn began to cry again.
"Thank you, Bashaar, for telling us." Rick managed, his voice thick with unshed tears.
"It is fitting that you know," Bashaar replied.
"The cult's leader," said Alex quietly, horrified by what he had heard, "did Ardeth, I mean the prince, ever find him?"
Bashaar nodded grimly. "In the depths of Ahm Shere the prince met the cult leader once more and avenged his wife and son."
No one spoke for a very long time after Bashaar had finished. Each went about wrapped in their own thoughts. Rick and Evelyn spent a lot of time embracing their son, and, for once, he did not complain. He simply hugged them back with all his strength. Bashaar watched by his leader's side, hoping against hope, that they would reach the oasis in time. As the sky darkened from azure to black, he began drift off, tired from the day's events, from the long journey he and the army had made in such a short time. Evelyn covered him with a light blanket, then stood a moment by the rail, looking down at her husband and son, sleeping side by side. She wanted to sleep, she was dead tired, but the story of Ardeth and Iman haunted her. She had no idea he'd suffered so much. Evy was still finding it hard to believe he had a small child at home. A daughter no less. "That should prove to be very interesting in another ten years or so", she thought with a quiet laugh. Stretching widely, she settled down next to her family and eventually drifted off to sleep, images of a young suitor being met at Azizah's door by Ardeth in full weaponry.
Behind her, Ardeth's body began to fight the infection with a vengeance. His temperature began to rise higher and higher and a sheen of sweat broke out on his brow. His delirious mind began to reconstruct the terrible things he had seen in his life and near midnight his screaming woke them all.
If my life's blood could save the life of my brother, he has but to ask and
it shall be his.
Med-jai oath of friendship
The oasis was a welcome sight for the weary travelers. All night they'd fought to hold Ardeth's demons at bay, struggling to keep him still while his body fought their restraining hands. Encouraging words did nothing to tame the nightmares and hallucinations brought on by the high fever. In his mind he fought Imhotep, Loch-nah, desert bandits and countless other horrors that Evelyn knew in her heart she didn't want explained. In her mind, it was a miracle that they'd kept him from making his wounds worse than he did. As it was, he'd lost more blood over the course of the night, weakening him further. Bashaar's attempts to pour more of the fever potion down his throat met with little success.
As the sun rose, Ardeth had quieted abruptly. They had all panicked for a moment, thinking he'd died. Only the shallow intakes of breath gave them any reassurance that he still lived. Pain and exhaustion showed on his face and Evy wondered if the dark circles under Rick's eyes looked anything like her own.
It was with no small amount of relief that the oasis was spotted several hours later and they touched down at last. Rick and Bashaar gently lowered Ardeth from the aircraft and a woman, completely veiled even to her eyes, beckoned them to follow. They carried him as gently as possible to a small pallet of blankets that had been laid out by the large pool in the oasis' center. Waiting here was surely the oldest woman Evelyn had ever laid eyes on. She was wrinkled beyond belief and her skin had the look and color of old, worn leather, but her eyes! Her eyes held the spark of a much younger woman.
"Here," she called, "bring him here."
Evelyn kneeled beside the woman. "How can I help?" she said in Arabic.
"Zahrah and I," she gestured toward the veiled woman, "will care for my grandson, Evahlhyn. You will pray to your God for his life."
Evy stared. "How do you know my name?" she asked.
The old woman smiled at her showing, much to Evy's surprise, a full set of teeth. "There is little Safiya does not know, pretty one. Now go." The woman called Safiya shooed her away gently and Evy sought the comfort of Rick's arms. She watched the old woman and the younger woman, Zahrah, remove the bandages from Ardeth's chest. Suddenly, her view was blocked by Bashaar's large form.
"You may want to move away," he said gravely. "This will not be easy to watch." He glanced meaningfully at Alex, who was plastered to his father's other side. Evelyn nodded and held out her hand. "Come with me, Alex. We'll wait over there." She pointed to the other side of the pool.
"Mum, I can. . . "Alex wanted to stay. He felt obligated to stay by Ardeth's side. Without his help, his parents might not have gotten to him and he knew that he owed his life, in large part, to the desert king.
Evy shook her head. "Not this time, Alex. Please. I don't want to wait alone and your father is needed here." Alex studied his mother for a moment and took her hand. Evy sent Rick one last look of encouragement over her shoulder and moved away.
Rick envied her. He didn't particularly want to stay and see this either, but Ardeth's strength was more than the two women and Bashaar could handle alone, and the Med-jai who had accompanied the two women were standing guard. So Rick stood there and waited for someone to tell him what to do. He watched Bashaar remove a wrapped bundle from a pile of saddlebags near the tent that had been erected nearby. He unrolled it with a flick of his wrist and Rick looked down with horror at what could only be described as instruments of torture.
The centerpiece of the bundle was a long, narrow spoon-like knife with sharp edges that winked in the sunlight. Surrounding it were long and short knives of all widths and an assortment of long needles and lengths of black thread. Rick swallowed hard. Bashaar must have noticed his discomfiture.
"You are able to do this, O'Connell?" he asked, laying a hand on Rick's arm.
Rick swallowed again, unable to tear his gaze away from the horrible sight before him. "Oh, yeah. Sure. No problem." He knew Bashaar didn't believe a word of it but to the man's credit he simply squeezed Rick's arm and knelt beside Ardeth's prone figure. Bashaar looked at the old woman. "Will you begin now?" he asked quietly.
Safiya nodded and reached for a small knife. "We begin."
Rick would have given anything to erase the next few hours from his mind. Safiya, with Zahrah's help, cut away most of the infection. It was hard to watch as each strip of virulent skin was peeled away under her skilled hands. Rick could tell she was being as gentle as possible, still Ardeth moaned in pain despite the deep unconsciousness that gripped him. Several times, as the knife cut deep into the angry wounds, Bashaar and Rick had to forcibly hold Ardeth's shoulders tight to the ground to keep him still. It was exhausting work for both men, for despite his weakened state, Bey was a force to be reckoned with. As night began to fall, Safiya reached her hand toward the spoon-knife. "You will hold him tightly," she warned Bashaar who translated for Rick.
"Can't she give him something for the pain?" Rick asked the Med-jai.
Bashaar shook his head. "He is unconscious. Anything she gave him he would choke upon. I had hoped he would wake up, even a little, so that she could give him something for the pain, but alas, it was not so." Bashaar grasped Rick's shoulder. "It is almost done. When she has finished cleaning out the wounds thusly," he gestured toward the knife she now held, "she will pour into the wounds a special potion that will burn away any remaining traces of the mummy's filth. This will be the hardest of all for Ardeth to endure. The pain of this has killed men stronger than he. We must be strong for him, O'Connell. We must hold him fast."
Rick looked at Bashaar then down at his friend. He wanted to walk away from this. He'd had enough. Something of this must have shone through because the younger woman put a hand against his face. He met her eyes as well as he could through the veil that covered them. She said something quietly in Arabic and waited for Bashaar to translate. "She said 'You will be strong for this man. He is the brother of your soul'".
Rick started in surprise. "He's what?"
Bashaar said something to Zahrah and waited for her reply. "She says you are brothers of the soul. His ka and yours are the same."
"My ka? What's that?"
"Your spirit," Bashaar answered. He waited as Zahrah spoke further. "She asks if you have a brother." Rick shook his head. "No. I mean I did, but he died right after he was born."
Zahrah asked another question. "Was this brother close to you in age?" she wanted to know.
"He was my twin. I survived, he didn't." Rick was thoroughly puzzled but was certain he wasn't going to like where this was going.
Zahrah then wanted to know when he was born and after some rapid dialogue back and forth between her and Bashaar, nodded as if agreeing with something he'd said.
"What?" Rick asked, not sure he wanted to know.
"She says that Ardeth is exactly ten months younger than you. His ka is that of your brother."
"How the hell does she figure that?" Rick wanted to know.
Bashaar laughed as did Zahrah and the old woman, and he hadn't even translated the question. Rick felt like the only one who didn't get a particularly funny joke. "They laugh," Bashaar told him, "because Ardeth Bey used the exact same words when they revealed this to him."
Rick narrowed his eyes. This was getting a little too weird for his taste. And coming from a man who'd seen mummies attack not once, but twice in his life, that was saying something. It was Safiya who broke up the party. Rick didn't need a translator to tell him that she wanted to get going. So he shook off their words and held Ardeth down.
For the next hour, the longest of Rick's life, they held Ardeth down while Safiya scraped minute traces of tissue from the open wounds. With each pass of the thin knife, Ardeth strained against his captors, his teeth clenched in agony, cries of pain catching in his throat. With each pass, his struggles grew weaker until, by the time Safiya had finished, he lay limp and unresponsive.
When she'd finished, Safiya drew forth a vial from under her robes and uncorked the top, her lips moving in prayer. "With this," Bashaar explained quietly, "the final traces of filth will be burned away. If there is no residue left, the potion will do nothing. If there is anything in the wound, it will eat at it until it is consumed."
"Does she have to do this now?" Rick asked desperately. "Can't she wait until he's stronger?"
"Ah, my friend," Bashaar said sadly, whispering so as not to interfere with Safiya's prayers, "the infection will grow again, until the process has to be repeated. They are not of this world, these wounds. Remember that. My friend, Safiya is Ardeth's grandmother. If she could spare him this, she would. You see her going about this calmly. I assure you, she is crying inside. Ardeth Bey is the world to her. He is the world to us all."
Rick nodded and looked closer at Safiya's face. Knowing what he now knew, he could see the anguish in her eyes. She ceased her prayers abruptly and looked to the two men beside her. "It is time."
"Death is only the beginning."
Imhotep
Evelyn and Alex spent the afternoon trying to ignore what was going on across the pool from them. Evy had managed to coax Alex into taking a bath in the cool water and she'd gone for a brief swim herself. They'd helped Izzy work on the blimp some and had napped a little in the heat of the day. She wondered what was going on. Actually, she had an idea. Ardeth's occasional cries could be heard even here. Each time he cried out, she winced. Evy tried to look reassuringly at Alex whenever this happened but they both knew that Ardeth would be very lucky to survive the ordeal facing him. Toward dark, Evy decided that she'd busy herself cooking. She was just asking Alex what he'd like to eat when a terrible scream broke the stillness. "Ardeth!" she yelled and without a thought, she ran for the other side of the oasis, Alex right behind her. As she reached the spot where Safiya sat beside Ardeth, she stopped dead, aghast at what she saw.
Ardeth lay still on the ground. She could tell from where she stood that he wasn't breathing, wasn't moving. Rick was sitting next to him, the still form clasped in his arms, his face crumpled in grief. Bashaar was on his knees, his lips moving in prayer. "Oh, no!" she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, God, no!" A sharp tugging on her sleeve caught her attention and she looked down. Alex stood next to her, his eyes wide in shock. His lips were moving but no sound was coming out. Finally he managed to squeak something intelligible. "Mum . . . Zahrah . . . look."
Evy looked at where Alex was pointing. "What Alex? I don't see anything."
Alex simply pointed. "There, Mum. There!"
Evy squinted against the tears in her eyes and drew in a sharp breath. Zahrah stood over Ardeth. It was with a subconscious kind of surprise that Evy noticed her veil was gone and even more surprising was the fact that Zahrah's hair was not black but the color of moonglow. However, it was her hands that caught Evy's eye. Her hands were held out over Ardeth, palms down. In the air between her hands and Ardeth's chest was a light. It shimmered gold and red in the gathering darkness, like a piece of sunset caught by surprise. Evy knew, deep within her, that what she beheld was Ardeth's soul, hovering between this world and the next. It took her breath away like a punch to the stomach and she fell to her knees, unable to stand, unable to process what she was seeing. Zahrah's lips were moving and her eyes were wide open as if she was seeing something the others could not.
Rick simply stared. This was too much. He couldn't take it all in. Ardeth was dead. As if from very far away, he heard someone call his name. "O'Connell." He ignored it. He didn't want to move, didn't want to hear or feel anything just now. His friend was gone, had died to save Alex. "O'Connell!" The voice grew more insistent and someone was pulling on his sleeve. "Give me your hand!" Rick looked up dazed. Safiya was grabbing at his hand, pulling it up from where it rested across the top of Ardeth's chest. Dazedly, not sure what she wanted, Rick gave her his hand. With a quick movement that surprised him, Safiya produced a sharp, jewel encrusted dagger from her robes. Rick recognized it as being Ardeth's. She drew the blade across Rick's palm. He flinched and tried to pull away but she held him with a strength he would not have thought possible from one so old. She squeezed the cut, allowing his blood to pour into each of the long gashes on Ardeth's chest. Where the blood fell, the wounds glowed red. Then she cut a similar gash along Ardeth's palm and pressed the two wounds together.
No one moved. Everyone watched the strange scene playing out before them. Even the guards on duty had come running at Ardeth's cry and stood silently, not sure what was happening. When Rick's blood had flowed into each wound, a cry escaped Zahrah's lips and her hands clenched, the light that was Ardeth's soul caught within her fists. Her knees crumpled and she thrust her hands down, as if she fought against some great weight. Then, she opened her palms against Ardeth's chest and light vanished. Ardeth drew in a great gulp of air as if he'd been underwater too long and began, once more, to breathe.
In that instant, the cut on Rick's hand burned hot for split second and he tried to pull away from the pain, but Safiya held fast. Only when the pain had diminished did she let go. Rick stared at his palm and wiped away a smear of blood. There was no trace of the deep cut. No scar, nothing. He looked down at Ardeth's hand laying palm up on the ground. There was no sign of the cut on him, either. A soft hand caressed his cheek. He dragged his eyes up to meet Zahrah's. If Rick hadn't already been dumbstruck by what he'd seen, he'd have sucked in his breathe in surprise. Zahrah's skin and hair were pure white. Her eyes were pale pink and she was clearly blind. "Now, you are truly brothers," she whispered with a smile, then she collapsed in a heap beside Ardeth.
"I don't understand," Rick whispered.
Safiya smiled at him. "Not all things can be explained," she said in English, and she called for light and began to stitch up the gaping wounds on her grandson's chest. Bashaar gently lifted Zahrah and carried her into the tent. When he returned, he touched Rick's shoulder. "I will help her," he said with a nod to Safiya. "Go to your wife and son."
Rick lurched to his feet and stumbled over to Evy. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his shaking legs no longer able to support his weight. Evy cradled his head against her and held him tightly. "Evy. . . I don't understand." The words were trapped deed in his throat by unshed tears.
Evelyn ran comforting hands over her husband's hair. "Shhh. It's alright. It's going to be alright. I don't understand either but it's over. It's all over."
Her soft voice and warm touch was his undoing. With a strangled sob, he broke down. The events of the past week sending all his defenses crashing down. He'd lost his son and found him, then raced the sun itself to keep him alive. His wife had been killed and resurrected. He'd fought Imhotep again as well as the Scorpion King, and against all odds, won. He'd been reunited with the man who was most likely his best friend and then he, too, had died and been brought back. It was too much for a simple man like Rick O'Connell. He simply couldn't take anymore.
To Evy's surprise, the Med-jai respected Rick as much in his weakness as they did in his strength. Helping hands, ones which Rick was oblivious to, brought them to a tent of their own, erected close by the first. Her husband was gently laid down on a cot where he quickly fell into an exhausted slumber. Lanterns were lit. Someone brought a tray of food and a pitcher of water. Then, the couple was left alone. Evelyn watched her husband sleep. Her hand swept the ever unruly lock of hair from his forehead and she kissed him. "Well, this has been quite the week, hasn't it, my love?" she said softly. Then she laughed quietly to herself and laid down beside him, sleep claiming her at last. She never heard the remaining members of Ardeth's troops join them, nor did she hear the small caravan that arrived after midnight. She slept deeply and dreamlessly for the first time in a long time.
