A FATE REALIZED
1931
Hazz Haka was not a natural worrier, but it had been almost two days since Isis and Osiris had sent Ardeth on his journey into the future. He should have come back by now. Something had gone wrong, something had gone totally wrong. There was no way to contact Ardeth without summoning the god and goddess. Yet, perhaps if he concentrated hard enough, he might find Ardeth within his mind to at least ensure that he was still alive. Hazz went into his special room, the room he called his 'prayer chamber,' so that he could meditate. Today, he was alone. His apprentice was out scouting and wasn't due to return until nightfall. It gave him the opportunity to reach out with his mind. He could not do it in the presence of others. Centering himself, pushing all external stimuli out, he closed his eyes and began praying to the gods. When his visions came to him, he never saw complete images, only snippets of activity here and there. He saw a tall, mirrored pyramid standing grotesquely against a blue, blue sky. The scenery whipped around him, surging forth, and he saw the great warrior slumped weakly against a building. He didn't appear dead, but he was exhausted and dehydrated. The image of a woman came then and it was so strong, it nearly knocked him back. There was no mention of a woman in the scroll. What she was doing there? What was her purpose? A voice from far, far away whispered to him, beckoning him. At first, he couldn't understand the words. They were garbled and disjointed. Eventually, he heard the words and they confused him. Curse of Hathos. What was this curse? He had never heard of it before. He knew what Hathos represented, but had never known of a curse perpetrated by her. He saw the woman clearly now. She had been whispering the words. Her golden eyes flashed with sorrow and pain. He understood. He understood everything now. Ardeth had lain with this woman, as a man would lay with his wife. She would be the ruination of his heart. Hazz tried to reach out to him with gentle psychic pokes, but Ardeth's mind was unreachable. He had already given his heart to the woman and it would never be retrieved.
An abrupt slamming noise brought Hazz out of his trance. He opened his eyes slowly, as if awakening from a deep sleep. Throwing an angered glance toward the door, he realized that Mukhtar had returned from his scout. What in the name of Allâh did he think he was doing? He grumbled incoherently, griping at his loss of privacy. His irritation grew when the young apprentice began banging on the door, begging him to come out. Sighing heavily, Hazz gathered his robes and threw open his door. He was close to shouting at the young boy, but the yell died in his throat the instant he saw another case in Mukhtar's hands. The case was identical to the one his apprentice had brought before. More scrolls? More curses? How would he reach the Medjai warrior? How would he tear his mind and heart away from this woman?
* * *
Present DayIt was a night without much sleep, but neither Ardeth nor Leven were complaining. They lay before each other across the small bed, head to foot. His head propped on one hand, Ardeth's other hand slowly caressed the length of her leg, back and forth in an excruciatingly gentle motion. She had curled her body slightly, giving her the closeness she desired as her mouth placed moist kisses on his flesh. It was fifteen minutes shy of sunrise and they had made love twice, setting off dozens of explosions inside them, neither quite understanding the bond, neither really caring to explain it. Why ruin the beautiful moment with words? Whatever the explanation, they both accepted it as something completely meant to be. Sighing softly, she placed one final kiss on his knee before shifting position. Ardeth watched carefully as she moved to lay against him face to face. He shifted his position slightly to gently stroke her hair as he gazed at her, rendered totally speechless. She leaned up a bit and drew closer to him, almost burying her face in his chest. His hand slid to the back of her head as her lips touched him ever so softly, drinking in the musky droplets of sweat that had gathered at the center of his chest. Her lips moved up and over, trailing a sweet line over his beating heart. They lingered there, and his heart responded by pounding just a little harder, fluttering a bit. They ventured up further and she placed a gentle kiss at the hollow of his throat. She drew even closer to him as her mouth traveled up toward his ear.
"Hâda? SaHîH? 'Ajab qâl aiwa," she whispered into his ear. ["This? Real? Please say yes."]
He nodded. "Aiwa, malak, ktîr khâliS saHîH," he whispered back. ["Yes, angel, very much real."]
A sob ripped out of her throat so suddenly that Ardeth was startled. After a moment, her lips were on his, loving the reality of it, of him, yet so reluctant to grasp it with her own heart. She knew it was only one moment in time. It was a moment that would never see the light of day again. She would never again be certain if she were awake or dreaming. He wrapped his arms around her trembling body, pressing it against his as he cupped her head to his shoulder. In the very back of his mind, he felt a minute prickling sensation, as if someone were calling out to him. Elder Haka was trying to reach him somehow. He ignored the call. For now, it could wait. The only person he wanted inside his head was Leven. It could lie by the wayside for a few moments longer. He thrust it away, drove it out, knowing he would not allow it back in until he loved her for as long as time allowed.
* * *
1931
Hazz and Mukhtar were gathered around Rashid, waiting patiently for him to translate yet two other ancient scrolls. The second scroll was related to the first that had foretold Set's curse. However, they gazed upon the translation with heavy hearts. The first scroll had been a malicious trap. Set was quite the clever god. They had sent a Medjai warrior into the future to unlock the portal. If Ardeth succeeded, the minions would rise. The great Chieftain didn't realize he had walked into an ancient booby trap. He had been sent following a false prophecy as his guide. The woman had served as a distraction. Perhaps her presence was necessary. Ardeth needed to be warned, but nothing Hazz tried worked. He prayed to the gods that the woman would continue to act as his fateful distraction. The third scroll foretold the curse the woman had whispered to him during his vision: the Curse of Hathos. Hazz thrust the scroll toward Rashid. When it was transcribed and read to him, Hazz shook his head. It foretold the emotional death of a man pure of heart, one with the markings of sacred duty: Ardeth Bay. He would pray. He would pray to Osiris and Isis, begging them to keep the warrior distracted, begging them to ease his heart through the tragedy awaiting him. There was no way out of this. They would choose the lesser of two evils. Broken hearts could mend, but a broken world could not.
* * *
Present DayAs Ardeth gazed up at the scimitar hanging on the pawnshop wall, Leven called through the list again, searching for the amulet. It hadn't turned up anywhere, and definitely hadn't shown up here. She went to the back office and searched restlessly through some new shit the boss had gotten from somewhere, but it wasn't among the junk in the boxes. She called around to various police precincts, but it didn't do any good. Nothing. Nada. Zip. When she came out of the office, she noticed that Ardeth had somehow managed to take down the scimitar. If her boss were to walk in… She watched, curiously, as he gripped the handle tightly, feeling its heft. Yes. It was definitely older than his, but still good enough to do the job if it was needed. Tonight, Leven intended to invite Sharr to her apartment to retrieve the key, and Ardeth wanted to have some backup. Of course, Sharr could not be killed, but he could be cast out and sent back to his dark god. He wasn't sure how this could be done, but he would use the scimitar to his advantage. Leven stood and watched him, fascinated. He was swinging the scimitar in wide arcs, almost as if he were practicing some strange type of martial arts. She assumed he was testing the feel of it, getting comfortable. She couldn't imagine standing before him facing that blade. She continued to watch him closely until he felt her eyes on him. He had been in some type of weird trance; perhaps his mind had transported him back to his time. She could almost see him in his native dress, wielding the scimitar, cutting some poor slob to bits. She wasn't frightened by that image, she was captivated by it. He looked up at her and gave her an embarrassed little nod.
"I may need this," he said. "I know your employer will be displeased, but I cannot face Sharr without it. He is not human."
She held up her hands defensively and smiled a little. "It's okay, Ardeth. You do what you need to do. I'll just tell the jerk some crazy wild man came in here and nabbed it off the wall when I least expected it. I hope he won't come in today. If so, I'm going to have a shitload of explaining to do."
He lowered the scimitar, unknowingly reaching down to sheath it, but he momentarily forgot where he was. Chuckling a little, he shook his head and approached the counter where Leven stood. "The instinct never dies," he said. He laid the scimitar atop the counter. "Are you sure about facing this minion? It would only take a moment for him to hurt you." She said nothing, but nodded her response. "You are very brave, Leven."
She shook her head. "No. I'm trying to help you. I don't have a brave bone in my body."
He understood that, he truly did. However, there had been another meaning to his statement. Not only was she brave for wanting to face Sharr head-on, but also because she had willingly laid out her body and soul before him knowing that he couldn't stay with her. "I will not let your deed be forgotten. I promise you that."
She placed her hand over his. "Can we not talk about that? Please."
Both of them were almost positive that once Sharr was defeated, Ardeth would have the key and then escape back to his time. Of course, that meant he would never return to her. It was silly and she didn't understand it. She couldn't be attached to this man. Could she? They had spent most of the night making love, reaching out and grasping the other's soul. The dreams connected them more than anything else, but it still made very little sense. She knew him, had crawled inside his mind and held on with all her might. Tonight, it would be over, and Ardeth would slip away as easily as he came into her life. She didn't want to witness it. She wanted to hide from it. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. What had he done to her? To him? It was out of his hands, and had never really been in them. He didn't control fate, couldn't be so arrogant to think that he could try. He was convinced that the visions served a higher purpose, but he had yet to identify it.
She gently took her hand out of his and laid it upon the handle of the scimitar. "Take this and put it in my car. Don't let anybody see you."
If she wanted to avoid it, he could as well. "All right."
* * *
Leven had called in sick at the casino to set up everything. She moved about the tiny apartment, stowing away things, and kept glancing up at the clock nervously. When she had called Caldo earlier that day, he had sounded excited about seeing her again. Of course, it had nothing to do with her. He either wanted or had the key and as soon as he was made aware that Ardeth had been sent, the game would become dangerous. She remembered what Ardeth had said about his tastes and she tried to dress accordingly. She had dug out a skimpy slip of a dress that revealed more than it hid. Goddamn she was nervous. She had never been so nervous in her life. If she didn't calm down, Caldo would immediately know something was awry. She could never go into police work, she knew that. Ardeth sat on the side of the bed and watched her pace back and forth. She wouldn't admit it, but she was terrified. It was written all over her. Mixed with that was a splash of sadness. As she made her hundredth pass in front of him, he grabbed her hand. She stopped and gazed down at him curiously. She looked so very sensuous and desirable. He ached to take her to her bed and spend another night making love to her.
"Can you do this," he asked.
She ran her hand along his cheek and caressed the silky fall of black hair that rested against it. "I can. Just don't fall asleep on me."
He smiled a little. "Never."
A knock sounded off from the front of the apartment, breaking their spell. "That's him," she said. "Go."
He stood and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed the tip of her nose. "Call to me. He is not human, you must remember that."
She nodded. "I know."
When she slipped out of sight, he went into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked the slightest bit, just enough to see. Leven straightened her dress and took a deep breath. She cleared her mind of every thought centering on Ardeth. Caldo didn't need to read her thoughts. She went to the door and opened it. As she expected, her guest was the minion of Set. Before she invited him inside, she gazed at him curiously. How in the world could she mistake him for Ardeth? Now that she looked at him, really looked at him, he was nothing like him. What was I thinking? She stepped back with a smile and invited him inside. She noticed his hungered, lecherous gaze as he entered the room. He was already undressing her with his eyes. He noticed that she had gotten a nice bottle of wine and the lights were dimmed. Dare he taste her again before he demanded the key? Oh yes, he dare. He sat down and crossed his legs, waiting patiently for her to join him. She had been an easy score and would likely be so again. He was tempted to ask her about this 'Ardeth' whose name she cried at the moment of her release. Of course, he wasn't here to seduce her, not exactly.
Leven joined Caldo on the couch and reached for the wine. He watched as she leaned over and he ran his tongue over his lips. He could see her naked breasts down the front of her dress. Three or four drinks and she would be his. After she passed out, he would search this place for the amulet. She poured him a glass of wine and passed it to him. He took the glass and sipped at it casually. "Have you any new daggers at your shop," he asked.
She looked up at him and sipped at her own wine. "No, not lately. Are you looking for something specific?"
He shrugged. "That's business. It can wait until later. I'd rather pick up where we left off. Wouldn't you?" She watched as he leaned forward to take her glass from her. He sat it aside with his and then turned toward her. "You are very stunning, even more so when you wear nothing."
Ardeth seethed with anger. Along with that was the slightest, tiniest bit of jealousy. The thought of another man touching the flesh he had touched gnawed at his soul like a persistent fa'r [rat]. If he lay one finger on her, if he even attempted it… Thoughts of torture entered his mind and he had to control it, to squash it before he lost his focus. One false move and Leven would die.
"Caldo, you're very sweet," Leven said.
He smiled. "So are you, both inside and out."
One hand slipped between her thighs as the other guided her body toward his. He tried to kiss her, but she moved her head before his lips could touch hers, and he wound up kissing the side of her mouth. He didn't mind. His hand tried to travel further up between her thighs, but she took hold of his wrist. He pressed forward anyway, regardless of her resistance.
She cried: "Ardeth!"
"Who is this Ardeth that you call to," he asked against her flesh.
"Him," she said.
Before he had the chance to look, Ardeth grabbed him from the back and pulled him away from her roughly. "Get off her," he demanded.
Sharr faced Ardeth Bay. Of course, he didn't know this man by his name. However, he knew of the Medjai. "Who sent you," he asked, amused.
"Not your god," he spat. "What do you know of the amulet?" He wielded the scimitar menacingly.
"The Curse of Set. I know nothing, Medjai. Perhaps the whore knows. Why not ask her? She cried out to you when I took her. If you take her, she may tell you how to find the key. She did it for me."
"Inta kizib," he roared. ["You lie!"]
"'Imil ana, Medjai?" ["Do I, Medjai?"]
"Inta 'imil," Ardeth said softly. ["You do."]
With a sudden swift move, Ardeth released Sharr. Leven screamed when Sharr produced a razor sharp dagger virtually out of thin air. It seemed as if he thought it and it appeared. He brought it down into a severe arc and the blade bit into Ardeth's arm. Unaffected by the injury, Ardeth moved with vicious precision. He brought the scimitar up and out, slicing it across Sharr's chest, the blade digging into his heart. There was no screaming or blood. A great bright light erupted from the slash in his chest and it enveloped him, wrapping him in swirls of blinding brilliance. Ardeth shielded his eyes against it and when the light died, the minion was gone, but only temporarily. As soon as he found another host, another soul, he would return.
Leven went to Ardeth immediately as she noticed the blood dripping from his arm. "Oh my God," she cried, "you're bleeding. Jesus!"
Unaccustomed to someone fussing over him, he gazed down at her curiously. "It does not hurt," he said blandly.
She didn't listen to him. Instead, she dragged him toward the bathroom and held his arm over the sink. She left him only for a moment as she brought in a small cotton pillowcase. Ruthlessly, she ripped it up and began wrapping it around his arm. She was ill prepared and had nothing else to use. It wasn't every day that a Medjai warrior bled in her apartment. "It doesn't hurt," she said incredulously. "Your damn skin is split wide open by a razor sharp knife, and it doesn't hurt?"
"The wound is shallow and clean," he said meekly, as if that would make any difference to her.
Exasperated, she sighed. "Men! I will never understand you." She looked up at him and beheld his bewildered expression. She supposed stuff like this happened to him every day. "You're okay? You're truly okay?"
She was still holding onto his arm. "Truly I am, malak [angel]," he said. She nodded sedately and started to back away, but he held fast. "Wait. And you?"
Leven shook her head and smiled a little. "You're bleeding all over my bathroom and you're worried about me?"
"He touched you…he forced himself on you," he said.
"I'm fine, Ardeth." After a moment, she noticed that the blood loss had begun to taper off and it wasn't soaking the cloth. He would probably need stitches, but she wouldn't be afraid to bet he'd refuse. "I'm sorry," she said with a sigh, "I suppose my hunch was wrong. He didn't have the amulet."
Part of him was disappointed. Yet another part wasn't at all. Thoughts such as these shouldn't have entered his mind, but he couldn't prevent it. He wanted to speak, to say something, but the words wouldn't come. She started to back away again, but he held onto her. Without a word, he drew her close and kissed her as her hand moved up his injured arm. He hissed in pain against her lips and she broke the kiss to look at him.
"It hurts," she said, "doesn't it?"
What, exactly, did hurt? His arm or his heart? "Tremendously," he whispered harshly before claiming her lips again.