Author's Note:
Yes, the last chapter of the story, fittingly titled 'To Manifest Me Rightly'.
It did take quite long didn't it? *Sheepish* I took the risk of finishing this in the middle of my thesis (Ha, wishful thinking that this might be over before I even started what I might term a nightmare now!)
OK, so there might be an epilogue.
Chapter 25
My heart foreboded this thy dreadful sentence, and to this tomb that shuts on thee its portal, I crept unseen by mortal. Here from all where none can more behold us, clasped in thy arms I resolved to perish.
-Aida, Giuseppe Verdi
Ancient Egypt, Hamunaptra
His body was lovingly washed, the insides removed, free of the blood, though the ugly scars and cuts had remained, the skin that showed the work of the poison more discoloured in death than in life, the slightly distended corpse a distorted appearance of the Aretas she had known.
We need to bring him back -to the burial chamber of the Medjai, a soft voice cut thickly through her. Surely you will want him to remain here with dignity.
I do, Nefertiri. But my eyes are hollowed out with crying, and the heart feels as if it has bled until it can bleed no more. My fists clench, and they want to thrust into all fragility possible and break them easily the way my life has been broken, but all motion, all movement will not bring back this beloved of mine.
Enheduana-Rai was haggard with the dark circles under her eyes and the tangled, matted hair which spoke volumes more than words, unfolded the strips of linen that she had been holding tightly in her hands, lightly fingering the already waxen and paling skin that had been hurriedly anointed with oils.
No beloved should ever be made to suffer this, Rai, no beloved should play the healer and the hurried embalmer after witnessing the sight of him dying, the queen's empathy was palpable.
Her bitterness was heart wrenching; the mix of grief that returned in waves too unwelcome in the wake of his death; she was petulant in the unfairness that had slapped her harshly, and silent thanked the queen for her patient understanding.
The linen that she started tightly binding him with was as smooth and hard as her rapid motions, the white sheen of the cloth rapidly folded over the bruised body and over the precious scrolls that he had fought and died for, erasing identity, bestowing anonymity that all had in death.
There was a certain detachment that Nefertiri watched - the same appearance that Imhotep had after his execution and curse was now given to Aretas, swathed in this very same cloth, so white and so heartless.
But a voice speaking quietly at her side washed the image of Imhotep out, returning to the more painful present from a muted past.
I have Aretas' scrolls, Rai said flatly. His legacy, the Medjai's legacy will live on, to those who find these. These will lie with him, and they are coated with the very same poison that was used to kill him.
Rai, the court holds no power over you; the decision of burying a loved one should never be dictated by anyone else. Sahure thinks that the scrolls die with the Medjai, but by the twist of the gods you will be the one who determines that, not him, the queen said gently.
The other woman nodded faintly; only the most sparse words carefully chosen and meted out in sensitivity were needed and having received such so graciously made her tremble more.
With the slightest of voices she placed a hand over the mummified torso, and whispered out to the heavens in the another ancient tongue that few had heard her speak, a sound that was unfamiliar yet chilling to Nerfertiri's ears, and without a doubt she sensed it to be a curse or a prayer, which brought an uncertainty and foreboding that fell upon the surrounding walls, ricocheting back and forth until silence entered back gratefully when Enheduana-Rai's lament was finally finished.
Humiliated then, honoured now, you died in tragedy, now reign in triumph and freedom.
May no god decide your fate as men have cruelly done for you Aretas.
May you feed on all that is pleasurable from now, may no one, no one touch you ever and not be burned, may the scrolls that brought you death now bring you remembrance as they corrupt all those who touch you, may you lay dormant but suspended, in peace until we meet again.
Her hands moved of their own accord, stroking the linens down the last time, her hands tracing the outline of him and the precious commodity that cloth hid.
My love, the legacy you carry with you is too precious, way above that of the rites that your enemies will perform.
Egypt, 1931
She was pale, her chest rising lesser and lesser with each breath that she took, on the brink of unconsciousness. His grip on her tightened as he spurred his horse onward, the beating of the hooves on the ground a comfort that it brought him closer to his destination, closer to life.
There existed a block in his head; he felt it, unmoving and persistent, obstinately obscuring the flow of recent memory. As if an invisible hand had reached into his head, playfully shuffled the memories around, until he saw them impressionistically - The elders who had smiled at him as he ran carefree during his youth, until the burden of leadership fell upon him, the awkward teen who watched foreign operas, the man who had to learn to be aloof standing in front of all those whom he commanded, the children of others who looked up at him in awe, and the voice of his mother reciting poetry to him as he fell asleep at night
"We don't know what poison it is!" Evy panted as they rode paces behind Ardeth. "Most ancient Egyptian poisons work the same way - trembling, dilated eyes, weak heartbeat, and, yes, eventually, death."
The horse that raced ahead in front of them seemed to ride away from hell's fiery hole, its hooves barely grazing the hard ground, and in the distance he saw the numerous spirals and the charming, uneven flat tops of the buildings of Cairo, the presence of civilisation never more welcomed.
Balls of fires - or were they lamps of the entertainers - were already lit, was it evening already? Unaware of the passing of time, it was her that he had become, her half-conscious state had become his, as if he was dying once more through her.
In a blur he saw Rick O'Connell hunched over his horse, riding as determinedly as he was, veering off onto a slight path well trodden, easily overlooked by the casual traveller.
"Short cut." He cocked a brow easily and motioned for all of them to follow. "Sweetie," as his wife rode behind him, "I did tell you this little pathway would be useful some day. And you actually mentioned that you wanted it sealed up?"
"Save your smirks for later honey." She grinned slightly, turning around to glance at the remaining horse and its riders; they painted a peculiar picture - a figure clad in black flowing robes that stepped out of another era holding his prize limp in his arms, swift as the sheets of wind that rolled through the city and were gone in a flash.
What was that?
Ardeth had momentarily loosened his grip on Alex, words of the Koran filling his mind. With a silent breath of gratitude to Allah, he tightened his grip on her with renewed vigour - oblivious to her grimace.
"Ardeth?"
"Shh..."
"Life has to be lived," She wheezed slightly, "Death is not surrender, Ardeth, I only surrender if I had refused to be someone of action, who lived a quiet, solitary life of a hermit."
"Do not speak," He commanded her quietly. "So that you may awake again later."
"We have reached?"
"You are a stubborn one, yes, you, the greatest desire of mine. But yes, we have reached. I will carry you into the house now." He announced grimly, before stepping off his horse, his boots landing on the sand and debris with a soft thud, without letting go of his precious cargo in his arms.
She was laid in a darkened room, familiar to her, or so she thought in that haze, voices swarming about, not certain any longer if they belonged to the past or the present.
"The poison had been used again and again," Evy rattled on rapidly, "from the time of Artaxerxes to the time of Egypt's 28th Dynasty. It was a new poison that ancient Egypt had concocted, and reused throughout the ages. A relatively fast acting poison, if I remember correctly, from the fast perusal of Tutankhammun's artefacts, but perhaps degraded and decayed over the years that it only eats the insides slower."
The vicissitudes of existence will still come by you inwardly, Alexandra, testing your character, proving your heroism and couragenot your accomplishments, not your dissertation that you think the world of now, not anything else. It all comes from within, the deepest part of humanity that has never changed and will never change - that links the ancient man and the modern one.
Was it dear old aunt Cordelia, or was it her professor back in Bembridge, who had said that to her? It was a life that was further away than she had thought; the life in ancient Egypt, although still in fragments, had already exchanged itself for that reality.
They all stood around her; it was quite a comic display really, she thought, with their worried faces hovering, disembodied, sometimes disappearing and appearing after each blink of the eyes, and she fought the urge to laugh aloud, an outrageous full-bodied laugh that she thought might set her free from the strangeness of it all, dispelling the demons that probably hung around her ever since she came to Egypt and met that mysterious and intriguing stranger who vowed that they shared destinies.
She smiled a bit. They were too caught up in their conversation to notice.
She waggled her fingers at them, only to find a large hand hold her own down, its weight comforting and reassuring.
It was like being a child again, she thought, pointing chubby fingers at anything in particular, and watching the faces of adults change as they thought the world of the clever, inquisitive one.
Ardeth's worried face filled her vision again, his features melting into - recognition? But she did not know what he was thinking, could not dredge her memory to bring out the right words.
Time and again it had been recorded in the Medjai annals, yet it had not fallen into place till now.
He sprang into action, drawing his own blade and ran it through the bottom hem of his own robe, slashing a strip of cloth that he used to wrap her afflicted hands, binding the joint at the elbow, as the O'Connells watched in fascination.
Her failing pulse frightened him like no other, not even when he brought devastating news of Medjai soldiers who had died in battle; her imminent death was completely unimaginable; she had become a presence that outshone the faithful sun, filling the gap in his troubled breast so abundantly that she had made him the sure lord of himself once more.
"Ardeth, I'm not too sure if this is a good idea" O'Connell was saying.
"Ardeth!" Evy's sentiment echoed her husband, her fingers clasping one another, almost certain that he had been possessed.
"For you, Alexandra, this my blood as sacrifice; let it be an action that speaks more than words." At that he cut his own wrist and dripped it down her throat, watching the life giving liquid stain her lips surrealistic red against the unnatural paleness of her skin, wishing that he had a guarantee that his prayers were heard and answered, for her renewal of life. The maroon droplets that flowed from his wrist seemed to diffuse as they touched her flesh, the dark red lightening to a bright red, infusing her paleness with its raw vitality.
She choked at the liquid, but it kept flowing, flowing, a substantial amount had ran past her throat, although there were many stray rivulets that had her mouth could not catch; they flowed as the Nile tributaries did, over her body, staining all red in their determined path. An image, sprang unbidden into her mind - Aretas, looking the same way as she did, bloodied with monstrous cuts over himself, his face distorted in distress and despair.
And then Ardeth replaced his image; the same face superimposed over that of the ancient incarnation and there were no cuts on him, except that he was persistently pressing his wrist to her lips, swaying slightly from the sudden loss of his own blood. And then no more, like a lamp extinguished abruptly, she dropped from all that she saw, straight into darkness and oblivion that opened their arms to welcome her.
"Something happened?" Rick O'Connell queried, after closing the door to their bedroom.
"Something happened. Most definitely." She confirmed. "Just watch their faces. But the questions can come later. I don't think Ardeth wants to leave her side anytime until she wakes up. And heavens, I pray that she will be alright, for his sake too."
"It's been one hell of a week since...well, you know."
They stared at each other in silence, reading the emotions in each other's eyes, letting words go unsaid.
"You know, honey, I did promise you no more of the Egyptian hullabaloo and went back on my word by accepting the position in the museum," Evy started out.
"Uh-huh."
"You know, I'm sort of regretting..."
"Aha! You think we should have gone back to England with the son and Jonathan right?" A mischievous grin formed at the sides of his lips; she loved the way some of his smiles were only found at the corners of his mouth.
"Don't jump me on this Rick!" She slapped his shoulder slightly, shushing him.
"Huh...do go on darling. This is starting to sound interesting. A repentant Evelyn O'Connell is a sight so rare. "
"I know there is a lot more of Nefertiri than what I saw in Ahm Shere. There is the whole of her life that is still buried! I only saw a crucial part of itwhat happens next, what happens before? Perhaps Ardeth opened even more doors to greaterpossibilities when he suggested you did have a part to play in ancient times as well."
"Darling, I...well, wasn't the recent scare enough for our already aging hearts?" He protested.
"Rick, I've known you long enough to see your greater belief in the present things. And I respect and love you so much for it. And this is why I will choose not to pursue anything further. Maybe Nefertiri loved someone else other than Ramses the great king. Maybe she did have a role to play in the great Exodus of the Bible. But," she took a moment to compose her words, mixed feelings overwhelming her.
"Honey, listen to me. Seeing you satisfied and contented will make me likewise. Why did you think I agreed to stay behind in Egypt? Well, other than the reason that I'm stuck to my wife and had no choice at all but to follow her royal highness' wishes," He made a humorous face at her, "I'd like to think that the greatest harm done in whatever you wish to discover will simply mean the unleashing Anubis warriors that of course, Ardeth will take care of them."
She giggled, sounding younger than her years.
"But seriously though," he continued, "If you need, well, if you want to discover more of Nefertiri or even relive her life, my blessings are yours."
"Hmmm? Really?"
"Through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, in past lives or present lives to come, through evil empires, evil priests, strange Medjai people, no death doing us part..." He drawled out in jest.
"Rick," she looked at him in wonder, "I did marry the best of men huh?"
"I'd say maybe our Dr. Khalan will have something to say to that in defence of Ardeth." He raised both brows at her, drawing more giggles.
"But I'm starting to come to terms with this. That maybe the past will stay where it is. In the past. What matters, well, is now, the present and what lies ahead. And I know you also prefer it this way. There is just so much to look ahead to, not behind. It doesn't concern me terribly as it used to. And that is where we will both leave it. There is," She motioned with her hand, "a lot more to come. Who knows, maybe it is better not to know."
He felt a lump rise in his throat - this mutual and healthy self-respect and love still so new and yet still so rewarding to him after all the long years of marriage, knowing that she did this also with the consideration of his feelings and their future.
"So, do you want to go back to England?" She grinned cheekily.
"What? I didn't think...but we just..." He shook his head and stated again. "What about Bembridge and -?"
"Hang Bembridge, well, at least for the moment." She said silkily as her arms went around his neck, pulling his head towards hers.
Life can only be understood backwards, but it can only be lived forwards.
-Søren Kierkegaard
Time never had divisions to mark its passing, only we, the folly of the earth, labour to mark its passage by leaving records, perhaps to satisfy ourselves that we have indeed left our own mark, the only certainty we have in the fluidity of it all, to convince ourselves that we are not merely illusions that come in a flash and fade just as quickly, Alexandra Khalan thought ruefully to herself.
She never quite knew what had transpired in the course of the last few days, only the faint memory of riding on a horse in a hurry back to the O'Connell's residence where she was now, and that Ardeth had never left her side, or so she was told, the moment she fell back into the realm of the conscious.
"You look different." He observed softly as he re-entered her room with silent footsteps, carrying a large jug of precious fresh water that he insisted she drink from throughout the day. "Healthy, and more importantly, alive." The slight waver in his voice was not lost on her, yet the uncertainty had returned to her once more, and she has questioned her own sanity constantly ever since Ardeth had proved himself more than a good dream.
He sat by her bedside, just looking at her, taking his fill before opening his arms, she, falling into them.
"Ardeth."
But his lips had already briefly brushed her cheek, innocently, his shaking hands framing the side of her face before he pulled away. But in that glorious movement lay the promise of a frightfully heavy sensuality, a certain wild sweetness that gave her a dense actuality of a possible physical warmth that would spread if he did not stop.
"Not yet." He smiled.
Characteristically human, she had scoffed all things that she thought was irresistible, until she herself found him so; that intellectual seriousness only a seriousness for the purpose of the intellectual game itself, far too inadequate to explain the power of all that they had experienced.
She realised that the burning interest she had for hieroglyphs was not just one that stemmed from academia; it had become a personal quest, just as it was for Ardeth, to recreate a life that she had never known that she had led outside Bembridge. She ought to have been astounded at this revelation, but perhaps any sense of deep surprise had ceased the moment Ardeth's hand had accidentally brushed hers; bestowing her with a sense of familiarity she did not trust herself to be better acquainted with yet. Cowardice she knew it to be, and to examine what the sudden flashback meant at his touch was too profound a change in thought even for an academic like her, she thought.
Alex was unprepared to face the kaleidoscope of emotions that assailed her upon the point of contact; she was even more unwilling to admit what his touch had awakened in her it was not something she did not enjoy. She would have fallen into his arms, body overcome and heart seduced had she not felt his invisible reservoir of self-control that also pulled her back. Not without knowing what might ensue should more skin come into contact.
"So, talk." She offered.
"Me? What would you have me say?"
"Whatever you wish to say."
She murmured in appreciation, looking at his tattooed hands that were grasping her upper arms, his thumbs circling lazily over the bare skin. Then they fell silent for a while, relishing each other's company.
"I am no prophet," She said after a pause, once more measuring her words.
"And you think I am one?" He challenged back. "I wield a blade better than I can interpret visions. And I ride a horse better than I know about poisons. And I catch a runaway horse more efficiently than a certain woman I know."
She was startled into laughter by his unexpected jibe, the heaviness that was perched on her shoulders for so long suddenly taking flight.
"I cannot deny everything that passed, because they have taken my emotions with me." She admitted finally, afraid to see his reaction, and yet in looking downwards missed the delight in the flare of his eyes.
A soft knock on the wooden door separated them quickly, he taking his place on the seat that was an appropriate distance from the bed, and she, nonchalantly resting backwards, schooling her features into an unperturbed one.
Evy entered the room then, matronly in the apron that she wore, cheerfully putting a tray of Egyptian snacks on floor rug.
"Dr. Khalan, I am your nurse as long as you need me to be - we are all at you disposal. Ardeth is your bedtime body guard, and Rick is household security. You need not fear at all."
"Indeed, I thank you, complete with Bembridge's seal of approval." She replied with mock-gravity, laughter straining the sides of her face, the sound following in a moment.
"My, in good spirits today are we." She heard Rick O'Connell's voice say dryly from the outside.
Kindred spirits, they seemed to be. She and Evy were seemed very much alike, strong willed, independent, unsatisfied by all they could not change. But the similarity ended there she though -Rick and Evy O'Connell were together. Her future - with or without him, was still being written out.
"I'll be back later, Alex." Evy winked and disappeared outside.
She turned her head to find Ardeth looking at her; it was disconcerting, that stare of his, and in his eyes it seemed as if his soul was ancient, as ancient as the person in her visions, perhaps even eternal.
"Why did you cut your wrist?" It was a bald-faced question, without the mince of words, and he was glad to know that she had not looked appalled, neither had she squirmed in displeasure.
He sighed.
"I..you see, the poison is...," He paused, visibly struggling for words. "It is like a blood curse. I was not able to remember a lot of events from my younger days, the Medjai records as well. But I realised that there were similar curses, and it was the issue of blood that resolved it. The fresh blood that you now have will clean out all that is filthy."
"A truth that insults the intellect of the academic but rescues the ignorant fool? I would have been hard-pressed into believing that, you know."
He shrugged. "The mind must not strive to understand all. Allah's universe is not made as fully comprehensible."
"You did not think twice, Ardeth? Slitting your wrist is quite an impulsive act." She did not know what to think, that the sacrifice he made meant a rash, unthinking decision to save her life without giving any regard to the safety of his own, and that it meant this man who had unwittingly slipped under the glacial cover she wore had also won her heart.
"We rode out of Hamunaptra alive. Allah be thanked. I have seen enough death as the Medjai chief. Did you think that one more would be easier to bear?"
It was disappointing; it was not the answer that she had hoped to hear; to expect an undying declaration of faith and caring was too much, but perhaps one that at least let slip that the one week of adventure was the rough ride that also took his heart with it.
"I disappointed you with my answer, Alexandra?" He queried softly, his eyes crinkling as the beginnings of a smile appeared on his tired face.
"Why would I be disappointed?" She answered, matching his pace, sliding on the serene countenance that now came so smoothly whenever she called for it. "Who dares question the dedication of the Medjai chief?"
"Why do you play games with me now?"
"I am not sure if I understand what you are asking." She said carefully, neutrally.
"Do you not? Or do you ignore all the implications of it?"
"Isn't the Medjai chief to be honoured for his bravery then?"
"Why do you suddenly ask me about this matter of honour?"
"Heavens, in other words, the Medjai have a dedicated chief." She gestured exasperatedly.
"Am I the Medjai chief to you? Not Ardeth Bay?" He asked her again, brows raised.
"Of course I didn't mean it as -"
"I saw your face change, imperceptibly. And I mean to ask you about it until you answer my question."
It was unbearably intense, and the tension had their nerves stand on end, neither willing to give in, neither allowing the other to see beyond the playful surface each thought they were excellently maintaining.
"Ardeth, I am saying that -"
"Alexandra, what had you wished to hear?"
"This turn of conversation is ridiculous, Ardeth. Let us not pursue it any further. Well! Life cannot stand still, nor can our liberation remain unchallenged by the institutions that bind us now."
"Stop." He held up his hand, as he had done on numerous occasions in the past, the action so familiar to her by now. "You avoid my questions."
"And you are asking me preposterous ones." She replied calmly.
"No, this question is simple and clear." He was baiting her, the stalker of her words as they flowed out, painting her into the small corner, capturing her imaginary hands and pinning them above her head, so excruciatingly close that the next moment would turn either violently savage or ravishingly intimate.
Alex knew then, that silence was the best weapon, and that speechless state, to a satisfaction that she could not quite yet voice, now frustrated him.
"Do you ever shout or lose that calm? What might be done so that you show me who Alexandra Khalan really is? You are Dr. Khalan, articulate philosopher, and a scholar, what you speak of carries much weight in the academic world, that much I think." Ardeth hesitated too, words like flowers hurled in wild disorder over a summer world was never his strong suit.
"Are you quite finished?" She was getting riled, and a bit distressed to his grim satisfaction; he was resolute that she knew all that he wanted to tell her, and that she knew what her own inside said.
"No."
"Very well, if you insist. I was dismayed to learn that I rank as high as your soldiers."
"Listen to me," he said urgently now, her confession spurring him on, "The death of any Medjai brings tears and anguish unfailingly. Had you died, it would have been the same, and worse, because you now share my destiny, you now live it."
How breathtaking this man was; he astounded her with his simple, lucid words, and the sudden dazzling movement of his lips on hers released all fear, his scent surrounding the air she breathed as he pulled back almost immediately.
"Not yet." He repeated his earlier words, delighting in her unsteady breathing.
"I have truly never met a woman like you, whose head and heart can be so separated." He smiled wryly at her, thanking Allah shakily for the woman that was returned to him in the cycle of another life. "You think too much."
"I was engineered, no, I engineered myself to look for the empirical and all that has happened - it's..." she shook her head as if to clear away cobwebs that had formed in the space of seconds, "my mind cries out for logic, Ardeth, but the fact that you are here, that we are now in each other's arms, that there was something else that occurred before this simply chases every sensibility I have out of the windowand I don't know, I don't know if I can accept us."
He held her tightly, pressing the side of his face against hers, wanting to reassure her with his touch, yet fearing that she would not understand, knowing that she had to come to her own conclusions and make her own decisions.
"Accepting ourselves for what we are," Alexandra faltered, hesitant to theorise further. Talking about one's past did seem to prompt a surreal quality to her every perspective on life but the pressure on Ardeth's hand on hers had a comforting assurance, and she continued, "forces us to come to grips with what we were, and what we are now, andand things can't remain unchanged as they were before this wholeexpedition. To obtain our real selves - oh, I do feel strange talking about this, well, to see it clearly and engage in mortal combat with all that you've held upright, is..." Alex could not finish her sentence, her thoughts too tangled to unravel in the space of days, hung her head dejectedly.
Before Ardeth could put in a word, her head snapped back up and she tried again.
"I..or at least Rai was," she shook her head, "God, how should I say this? All these memories, falling upon one another, is a single coalesced mass that amazes me and I am most afraid Ardeth. I am most afraid that that they are devoid of the charm that they owed in our minds. What if, we have only been romanticising this whole cult of remembrance? What if, we are not meant to be anything more than strangers today?"
"Why think of the hypothetical when you have a different outcome in flesh?" He questioned simply.
She nodded resignedly, feeling herself give in to his irresistible persuasion.
"Stay with me tonight, Ardeth. You forget your nightmares of Ahm-Shere with me, and now, vanquish mine."
"No different from what I have been doing for the past few days, Alexandra."
She gazed at him, her eyes tracing lazily and languorously the tattoos on his cheek; she toyed with his ebony mane and moved upwards to touch the hieroglyphs on his forehead reverently, finally dragging her eyes to his, as if lured by a magnetic force between them and was awed by the brown pools of desire that was reflected back at her.
They kissed once more, deepened into each other, but on the threshold of capitulation held back the third time, clutching each other tightly, checked however, again not by resistance, but by his incredible self-restraint. But the bliss became reality, with all the enchantment and consecration, all the secret revelations and sudden inner emotion, unquenchable, intoxicating that consumed the mundane of the everyday.
