Chapter Nine
The following morning came far too soon to suit Najya. Ardeth's presence and touch left her mind reeling. It took hours for her to get her thoughts under control and drift into a fitful sleep. Even then, her dreams were filled with the dark and mysterious Med-jai leader. She grudgingly awakened when one of the men appeared outside her tent informing her they would be departing soon.
As they rode, they breakfasted on dried meats and papaya juice. It was not the most luxurious of meals, but it was nutritious enough and kept hunger at bay. Tiredly, she gazed at the morning horizon. One more night in the desert and they should be in Giza. Once there, she would need to obtain passage on a riverboat that would take them as far as Awan, if not to the Isle directly. Of course, that all depended on whether or not one particular riverboat would be available.
She sighed heavily when she noticed Ardeth slowing his camel, allowing her to catch up to him. He would be expecting answers and she would have to give him what he wanted. Actually, she could tell him only that which she knew. She smiled wearily when he greeted her. Although he would never admit it, it seemed as though he had gotten as little sleep as she had.
Ardeth nodded courteously. "I wish to continue our conversation," he stated simply.
Najya blinked. "You cut right to the heart of the matter, do you not?"
"I find it saves time," he replied shortly. It was not his intention to appear terse, but he found he had little patience that morning. He had barely slept through the night; his mind had been far too preoccupied with what he had witnessed in the moonlight. He tried to brush it off as just passing curiosity in her beliefs and abilities, but he knew that was a lie. His body knew it long before his mind did. He was attracted to this stranger and he had absolutely no idea why. No one would deny her beauty, but she was not of his people and he should not allow his thoughts to head in the direction they had been.
"Are you listening to me?" Najya asked suddenly.
"Law sa-maHt?" Ardeth asked, startled. He had not been aware she was speaking. He had somehow managed to get lost within the sapphire depths of her eyes.
Najya hid a smile. She could read his confusion and although she did not know exactly what had his emotions in turmoil, she was fairly sure she was the cause of it. She wondered why that knowledge would please her so much. "I asked where you would like me to begin."
Ardeth nodded thoughtfully. "What is your reason for traveling to Philae?"
Of course, he would ask the big question first. Najya turned serious and her voice lowered to a whisper. "You must first understand that I have very few details."
"Tell me what it is you do know," he insisted. He waited patiently for her to speak. It was evident she was still reluctant to share her secrets with him.
Najya took a deep cleansing breath. "In the land of the ancients, gods and goddesses ruled earth and men. Of course, there were men favored amongst the gods and they were given special privileges and knowledge of powerful magics." She watched as his rich brown eyes darkened while he listened intently. "Just as it is with the people of our time, there were those who wished to abuse their powers. To keep those men from taking over completely, Isis created The Sphere of Ma'at. That is what I have been sent to recover."
This Sphere had never been mentioned in the Med-jai teaching and lore. It was entirely possible that she was delusional. But, the mother's voice; he had heard the voice clearly. "What is this sphere?" How was it that the Med-jai had no knowledge of it?
Najya patted her camel as it lifted its head slightly. "It is said to contain the magics that keep truth and justice safely balanced."
"Thereby making it difficult for evil and chaos to run rampant," he surmised. A deep furrow creased his brow. "You are after a magic to disturb the balance of justice?" Perhaps the Elders had been right all along? If she wished to tip the scales of truth and justice, it was possible this stunning woman would have to be put to death. The thought sickened him.
Najya shook her head. "No. You misunderstand. I seek the Sphere itself. To protect it from being damaged." She could see the disbelief clearly displayed on Ardeth's face. "It must be protected. It is why I have been sent."
"How will you protect it? Would it not be best to leave it where it now rests?" He watched her face and eyes for signs of her intentions.
She shrugged tiredly. "This, I do not know. You now know as much as I know. Go to Philae and recover the Sphere."
"What if you refuse?" he asked curiously.
"I cannot refuse. Isis commands it," she answered, certain in her belief.
"And this is all that you can tell me?" he questioned doubtfully. He could not shake the feeling that she knew more than she was letting on. He was less than surprised when she shook her head.
There was only one bit of information she had neglected to share with him. His presence was needed in Philae. If he knew that he was an essential piece to the puzzle, he may refuse to go further in an attempt to prevent her from getting the Sphere. She could sense his reluctance; perhaps he was fearful that she wished to use the Sphere for her own purposes. Sighing inwardly, she watched him nod curtly before urging his camel to move ahead. He effectively dismissed her, as if punishing her for not revealing everything she knew. Was he psychic as well? No, she could sense things like that. It seemed obvious that he was very adept at reading people and she would have to tell him the rest of what she knew. She hoped she could hold him off until they were aboard the riverboat.
--
Law sa-maHt – excuse me?
***
While the small band of Med-jai and their charge set up camp for the night, a large caravan approached Giza from the opposite direction. The majority of its members were laborers, hired by the extremely affluent Englishman, Drake Bentley. Bentley's family wealth came from a cache of diamond mines discovered in the 1800's and he used his money in the pursuit of his personal supremacy.
His latest endeavor came about when he stumbled upon a little hotel in Cairo some years prior. As he was checking in, he overheard the proprietor bellyaching about having to take in an unwanted ward. At the time, he had been going through the belongings of the child's deceased parents. Bentley had immediately envisioned a vulture going after the carcass of a dead animal while watching the fat little man scavenge through the bags. While on his way to his room, Bentley had collided with the man, sending not only his things, but also those the man had been rifling through, to the floor.
He had stumbled across some sort of journal, days later, while repacking. It was dog-eared from age and use. Somehow it must have gotten mixed up with his things when he had bumped into the hotel owner. Most of the writing in the journal was Arabic, which he could not read, but there were drawings that intrigued him. Fascinated, he took the journal to the museum curator who transcribed small sections. The curator had taken great interest in the journal after perusing one particular section and insisted Bentley leave it with him. Instead, Bentley had taken the book from the curator and returned to England with it still in his possession.
He had shoved it uncaringly into a desk drawer after he had returned from Cairo and had rediscovered it some years later. What intrigued him most were the passages referring to a spherical shaped container. Underneath the drawing were the words "he who releases its power, controls its magic". Deciding he needed to know more, he took it to the London Museum to have more of the writings transcribed.
He was nothing, if not ambitious in his quest for power. And when he saw the opportunity for further supremacy, he could not pass it up, even if it came in the form of strange legends and myths. He discounted nothing. No, if these scribblings were genuine, if this sphere did exist, he would hold the greatest power in his hand. That was an opportunity he could just not ignore.
***
Ardeth grimaced at the sudden change in the desert's ambiance. He felt what was approaching and he knew his men did also. A sandstorm. They could try to ride through it or stay put in hopes that it missed them. Ardeth chose the latter and ordered his men to set up shelter; two tents only. It would be cramped, bunking with the other men, but he did not want to run the risk of using the larger tent. The smaller tents were targets enough for the storm.
With little time to prepare, Najya was left to weather the storm alone in the tent erected for her. Although Ardeth had assured her his men had reinforced the ropes that secured the tent, she could not shake her feeling of complete dread. Storms terrified her, especially sandstorms. The hope had been that the storm would pass them by, but that was not to be the case.
Camp had barely been made when the wind started to pick up and Ardeth had ushered Najya to her tent. As the storm grew, her terror grew. When he left her abruptly to herself, she would have begged for him to stay or take her with him. Whether she had asked or not, she knew he would not have stayed. It would be improper of him to be alone with her for any real length of time, and although she did not know him well, she did detect he had a deep sense of honor.
Listening to the wind whistle and sand whip against the tent, Ardeth was relieved that it did not appear to be a dangerous storm. They could easily wait out the bad weather and it should not cause harm to his men, Najya, or the animals. Closing his eyes, he let sleep take him, knowing the storm would be over soon and they could resume their journey.
She could think of nothing to do to calm her fears except meditation. It was a release of sorts and she took comfort in it. An hour later she felt more relaxed and eased down onto the soft bedding. The wind and sand were steadily churning, but if she could slip into unconsciousness before the aftereffects of her meditation wore off, she would be fine.
"Farouk!" Zariah screamed into the swirling wind and sand. "Farouk, I...can't see! Farouk!"
Najya tossed as she dreamed. The feelings of her mother flowed through her as she lived through the events surrounding her parents' deaths.
Zariah urged her camel to a stop. The storm had effectively blinded her and she had lost sight of her husband. Hysteria bubbled deep inside and threatened to overtake her. Climbing from the camel, she shielded her eyes and reached out telekinetically. She would be able to find Farouk easily that way. After a few short moments, she grew more frantic. She felt nothing, as if her husband no longer existed.
Najya cried out as she watched through her mother's eyes.
Zariah staggered blindly through the storm, unaware of her surroundings, and stumbled over an unyielding object in the sand.
Ardeth jerked awake from his light slumber, certain something was awry. He could not be positive, but he could swear he had heard a scream. Perhaps he had been dreaming or, perhaps, the wind caused it. Whatever it was, it seemed to disturb only him. The others slept while the storm continued to swirl about them.
Covering his head and face, he went out into the storm. As he neared the second tent, even through the whistling wind, he could hear the anguished cries coming from inside.
"Farouk, Farouk...no!" Zariah screamed as she turned her husband's face from the sand. He had been thrown from his camel, his neck broken. "You cannot leave me! Please do not leave me!"
Ardeth ducked into the tent quickly, unsure of what he would find. He peeled the cloth from his face and let it fall to the floor of the tent. What he saw, when his vision cleared, was Najya in the throes of a terrifying nightmare. She tossed her head back and forth, moaning torturously as her limbs struggled against the blanket that covered her. He felt his chest tighten as though he shared her pain. Odd.
Zariah buried her face against Farouk's dead body. "Goddess forgive me, but I cannot go on without you, my darling. May she protect and watch over our precious daughter." Unwilling to face a world without her husband beside her, Zariah remained by Farouk's side and allowed the storm to swallow her.
"Mother...father...no..." Najya sobbed and reached out for the image of her parents, still so visible in her mind. Just as she felt as if she could stand the horror no longer, something warm and safe enveloped her and she sank into its depth thankfully.
Ardeth lifted her into his arms, cradling her tenderly as he spoke soothingly to her. Time slowed and he was unsure how long he had held her before she pulled away from him. "Are you all right?" he asked concernedly as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"I...I am fine," she stammered, embarrassed by her emotions and his nearness. Her eyes locked onto his in the darkness of the tent, and she read the genuine concern he held for her. She felt suddenly empty and wished for nothing more than to be back in his arms. To feel as safe as she had just moments before was all her thoughts could process.
"You do not look fine," he replied, touching a finger to her damp cheek. "What troubles your dreams, Najya?"
She looked down at her hands as they plucked at the blanket. "My parents. They...they died during a sandstorm. I..." The tears came again, hard and fast; and, just as suddenly, she felt the haven of his arms envelope her again. "I am sah-sorry."
"Shhh. Do not apologize. The storm has brought on your nightmare," he reasoned quietly and rubbed her back comfortingly. "I am very sorry for your loss."
Although she knew she should not be in his arms, she clung to him. Clung to his warmth and his energy. She wondered silently if he had any clue how strong a spirit he had. "Thank you," she whispered as he urged her to lie back down on the bedding. When he moved to leave, she reached out for him. She had never begged before in her life, but she was begging now. "Do not leave. Please."
Ardeth hesitated, feeling her hand on his. "I should not stay. It is not proper."
Najya nodded and took her hand away. "I know this, but I do not care. I have no reputation for you to worry over. My uncle has seen to that."
Although he did not understand what she was trying to tell him, he could read the fear in her eyes. Her nightmare was still very real to her and she did not want to be alone with its memory. "Very well. I will not leave you."
He eased down onto the bedding where she made room for him. Stretching out his long frame, he was somewhat surprised when she pillowed her head on his chest and molded herself against him. Reflexively, his arms encircled her and he held her tightly, protectively. His thoughts grew pensive, knowing he should not be there, holding her in his arms; should not allow himself to take comfort in her nearness. What he was doing was wrong. He knew it and cared not.
***