Chapter Thirty-Three: A Shadow Cast By Sunlight
"He is hell become heaven, becoming hell. He is evolution, a matter of energy, a star in the dark tomb, a shadow cast by sunlight. He is life that can not be contained, a holy insurrection, blessed negativity." –Excerpt from "Greeting Osiris," The Egyptian Book of the Dead, translated by Normandi Ellis
***
Anjelica watched with morbid fascination and pity as Imhotep finally reached the squirming, groaning pile of dead bodies. Somewhere underneath the moving carcasses was the queen, one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen.
She was sure that by now she was dead.
Anjelica kept carefully in the shadows, her sweaty hand on her scimitar. She still did not know when she would be needed, if she would be needed. But she was ready, for when the time came. She saw that Rick was hurt. She did not know how badly, but if he needed someone to protect Evy or Alex for him she would do so gladly.
Anjelica watched and waited.
***
"No!"
Imhotep cried out again, his fierce denial echoing in the room. Finally reaching the crush of dead bodies he began frantically pulling the dead from her and throwing their bodies across the room. The rubbery carcasses sailed through the air as Imhotep dug down, heartbroken as he searched through the pile for the body of his love. "Get off of her!" he growled furiously, pushing the stumbling dead aside. But it was too late.
Even as he pulled her limp body up, he knew that she was dead. He gripped her soft body tightly to him, holding her as he had held her a thousand times. Her beautiful dark hair shone, tumbling across his bronze arms. For a moment she shifted, she moved, she was still alive–
No. She was dead. Life no longer coursed through her veins. She lay still against him. He could feel his arms trembling as he clutched her. Why, he had held her just that morning, had kissed her lips, comforted her and drawn her close. He was wrapped in numbness. He could not feel. He shut his eyes against the raging blindness, the roaring in his ears. His fingers dug into her flesh.
And then the wrap of numbness lifted, and his heart squeezed so tightly inside his chest Imhotep gasped. A thousand emotions coursed through him. She was dead, dead, dead. The realization struck him, hard and sharp, and despair filled him. Everything that he had fought and killed for had brought them only suffering. He had wanted to give her the world. He had wanted to give her everything she had ever dreamed of. But he had failed.
He kneeled, Anck-su-namun in his arms, and laid her beautiful body down on the marble floor. Her hair fanned out against the white stone floor, her coppery skin so warm and lifelike against the coldness of the marble. He slowly drew his hands away, rocking back on his heels. Her body lay still, one arm draped across her chest. Lifeless.
A thousand spears flung themselves into Imhotep's heart. He had failed. And because of his failure to protect her and give her happiness she had chosen death. She had chosen to die and leave him.
She had been ready to face the afterworld alone.
And he howled. It was not a human sound, but an inhuman cry of fury and despair. His scream echoed. Why had he been cursed with his heart intact so that he must know such suffering? As the cry left his body he closed his mouth and shut his eyes against the burning pain.
He bowed his head, his body nearly contorting with rage. Rage that he had done everything for her. Rage that nothing he had ever done had been enough. Rage that he must lose her again. Rage that life was so blisteringly unfair.
The fury consumed him. Looking up from her body, the first thing he saw was Nefertiri's brother standing in the doorway, the key gripped in his clammy hand. A fierce, inhuman growl emanated from Imhotep's body. Without thinking, without feeling, without knowing exactly what he did, Imhotep stood. His eyes narrowed to slits as his body thirsted for vengeance. He would have his revenge. The world would know the consequences of his wrath.
Just ten feet from where Jonathan stood, still and shocked, Imhotep squared his body. Facing the other man down, Imhotep's lips moved into a fierce snarl. His ferocious gaze bored into Jonathan's.
Jonathan gasped in fear and recognition, stumbling back. And he watched as Imhotep turned, and came for him.
***
The battle outside was finally over.
Dalil wiped the sleeve of his dark robe across his face, dirt and moisture rubbing onto the dusty fabric. He took a deep breath, utterly exhausted. All around him lay dead bodies.
The seeming endless army of the dead had finally petered out. Of the million dead soldiers only a few hundred were still alive. Those that had survived had all made it inside the palace. The felled bodies of the army of dead, along with the slain Med Jai, covered almost every inch of sand.
Dalil forced himself to raise his eyes from the ground, and watched as the last few jackals were quickly dispatched. Burnt wind whipped across the dusty battlefield. All that remained were some Med Jai, walking and staggering forward, identities obscured by their dark robes. Dalil searched their faces and his heart plunged when he saw how few had survived. He did not see Ardeth either, and he hoped to God he had gone inside the palace.
The desert around him was so covered with lifeless forms that Dalil could barely see the color of the sand. He lurched forward, tripping over a corpse. Looking down, he recognized Rashid's lifeless body. The old man lay on the ground, sand already tossed over his still form.
Dalil remembered how fearsome the old man had been. He had been a respected elder, a man of wisdom and a will of steel. And now he lay dead, like so many others. Dalil bent down to close Rashid's eyes, his fingertips grazing over the dead man's flesh. As he straightened he noticed that Rashid's scimitar was still clenched in his pale hand. The old man had gone down fighting.
He couldn't stay here. Without thinking or knowing exactly what he did Dalil stumbled onward over the bodies, his mind numbed by all of the carnage. Ah, when he had just been a scout for Ardeth in the mountains–how long ago that seemed! How naive and innocent and sheltered they had been.
He continued walking, forcing his numb body to move. He searched the faces of the fallen to see if any perhaps were still alive. Perhaps there was one who could be saved.
And then he saw it. The face, half covered in sand. He crouched, grasping the shoulder of the dead body. With a grunt Dalil pulled it up. The body was soft and pliant. With a tug the head rolled over on a neck of jelly. The face stared back at him sightlessly.
Dalil let go. The body slumped back onto the sand. He tried not to cry out. He did not know if he spoke or even made a sound. A long stretching moment passed. He didn't even realize he was in pain until he looked down at his fingers. Blood seeped from the places where his teeth had sunk into his flesh, where he had bitten himself to stop the agony that nearly overwhelmed him.
It was the body of his best friend, Hamir. Hamir. They had come through Imhotep's raid on the villages together, had scouted together, confided in each other, relied on each other. They had loved each other as blood brothers.
And now, like so many others, Hamir lay dead.
Dalil's eyes fluttered as he lurched backwards away from the body. He let his gaze drift up. All around him lay dead bodies. Various Med Jai in dark robes were walking slowly around the battlefield, checking on the still forms to see if perhaps some of their tribe lived. The mighty Med Jai, reduced to this. It was a cruel joke, a mockery, an insanity.
For a moment, Dalil's vision wavered, and he knew that he wandered on the brink of madness.
Dalil felt his knees weakening. His scimitar slipped from his grasp, falling harmlessly to the sand. He stumbled forward, suddenly not caring how the battle fared inside, if Ardeth or the O'Connells had been able to find the gold book. He did not care. He wanted no more part of this battle. He wanted to sink into the sand and sleep and sleep.
Even if they won this battle. Even if they defeated Imhotep once and for all, victory had come at such a price. A price of sand and blood.
And he was now alone.
As the wind blew around him it seemed that the very earth howled at the injustice. Sand flew into his eyes. Dalil stumbled, fell to his knees, crawled. Suddenly his gorge rose and nausea flooded him. He turned and retched, clutching his head and stomach. He retched until there was nothing left inside of him, until his empty chest was left, heaving nothing but flem and air.
Gasping, coughing, his throat scratchy and raw, Dalil turned from his vomit. On his hands and knees he inched forward until he found himself a soft spot on the sand. A small little corner of the desert, waiting for him. He curled up, his head near his knees. He hoped that he could sink into the sand, that he could melt away from all this pain and death. Maybe the Med Jai wouldn't find him. Maybe they would allow him to slip away, maybe they would honor him for dying in this final battle.
He couldn't move. The despair and pain overwhelmed him, and for a minute he thought that he was physically unable to breathe.
He surrendered himself to his misery. For the next few moments Dalil curled up in the sand, covered his face, and sobbed.
***
Rick grunted and tried to sit forward as Adil and Pierre reached his side. Ardeth smiled tiredly as the two men approached, all three of them victorious in their fight against the soldier mummies.
The pain in his leg was lessening, and Rick managed to sit completely forward. The fact that his leg was numbing wasn't exactly a good sign, but for now he was grateful. If they made it–when, he corrected himself–they made it through this, he would get some medical attention.
Pierre crouched by Rick's side. "How do you feel buddy?" he asked, unable to suppress a wince as he looked at Rick's bruised leg. It was very likely the bone was cracked or fractured. There was no blood, but some very serious bruising and discoloration were visible through Rick's ripped pant leg.
Rick was about to reply when a single word seared through his consciousness.
"Daddy!"
Every other thought flew out of his mind. Rick looked up as Alex came bounding forward. In the next second his son had run into his arms.
His child. His baby. Alex.
Rick suddenly found his arms wrapped around his son. His son. Alex.
Rick could think of nothing else. All he knew was the small form of his son wrapped in his strong arms. He forgot where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. He forgot about the pain in his leg, he forgot about the presence of the others, he forgot that all their lives were potentially in danger. All he could think about was Alex.
His arms tightened around him. He almost didn't believe it. Was it really his son? After all this time was Alex back in his arms? Could it be true?
"Dad," Alex murmured into his ear, his small arms clutched around Rick's neck. And Rick knew that he would never again let go of his son. He hugged Alex's small body fiercely, tears misting in his eyes. "My boy," he choked out, overwhelmed by emotion.
It did not matter that two years had passed. It did not matter he had missed part of Alex's life, that he had missed seeing him grow and change. He was here now. Rick vowed that he would never again let anything happen to his family.
They would have the rest of their lives together, no matter what.
And father and son simply held each other, as the rest of the world faded away.
***
Imhotep had almost reached Jonathan.
"Throw me the key!" Evy shouted.
Jonathan held the key, his hands damp and clammy, watching semi-stunned as Imhotep neared. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Throw this more accurately than you threw the scepter of Osiris," he thought to himself. Then Jonathan cocked his arm, aiming for Evy, and let the key, heavy and cold in his palm, sail through the air.
Just as the key flew from Jonathan's outstretched arm, Imhotep plowed into him, his inhuman eyes dark and furious.
***
The silver key sailed across the room. It flew in slow-motion, end over end, a glinting gem that seemed to wink as it hung on the very air.
Evy reached out her hands, her eyes locked on the gleaming silver object that floated towards her. From somewhere deep inside of her she felt a shiver, a shadow of the woman she had been...As the key neared she could almost hear Nefertiri's lilting voice whisper to her...do not be afraid, for this is your fate...every key must be turned, and you are the hand that must end the cycle...catch your destiny, queen, mother, sister of my soul, my self...
And the key flew into her hands. The force of it caused her to stumble slightly, but the silver box had found its master. It, too, had finally come home again. Evy's fingers wrapped around the key.
No other human would ever touch it again.
***
The force of Imhotep's body sent Jonathan down with a gasp of pain. He thudded hard on the marble floor, crying out as his hurt body protested against the abuse. But Imhotep stood over him, growling. In another second the priest had picked Jonathan up. Holding him aloft in the air, with a groan, Imhotep hurled Jonathan across the room.
Jonathan flew. He landed hard on his shoulder, his rubbery body slamming into the cold floor. He lay still and unmoving.
***
As Jonathan landed heavily on the ground, Ardeth turned to Rick. Rick looked up from holding Alex and met his eyes. Ardeth knew that Rick was depending on him now to protect Evy and the book. The trust in his best friend's face was a seed of comfort that stole up through Ardeth's body and wrapped itself securely around his heart. Ardeth knew that it was his turn to face Imhotep. Rick had kept him at bay, but no single mortal man could contain the priest. It was Ardeth's turn.
He was bruised and tired but there wasn't much time left. He had a job to do and he would do it. He had to contain Imhotep until Evy could open the gold book and read the spell. With a deep breath of intent purpose, Ardeth exhaled, knowing that these next few moments would determine the fate of the world.
"Go, my friend," Rick said, his arms wrapped around Alex. Ardeth nodded, swallowing his emotion. Seeing the two of them reunited would last Ardeth a lifetime. All he had fought for was worth it if the two of them had found each other again.
With a swift nod, Ardeth grasped the hilt of his sword. Turning to Adil he motioned brusquely to Rick and Alex. "Watch them," he said curtly. He would face Imhotep but he would never leave his injured friend unguarded.
He only had a moment. His eyes scanned the room as Imhotep stood looking at Jonathan's unmoving body. Ardeth exhaled quickly, hoping to Allah that Jonathan had survived his fall. Ardeth turned and looked into the eyes of Pierre. "Protect Jonathan."
Both Adil and Pierre nodded in assent as Ardeth turned away from them, his hand clenching the hilt of his deadly blade.
It was time for the Chieftain of the mighty Med Jai to face down the Creature.
***
Imhotep turned from Jonathan's body. Immediately his eyes found Nefertiri. She sat, crouching on the floor. The golden book of Amun-Ra lay next to her, gleaming softly. Ordinarily he would have been captivated and distracted by the sight of the book. But what interested him the most was what Nefertiri was doing.
She sat, her fingers wrapped around the gleaming silver box. The key.
"Give that to me," he growled, his voice echoing in the chamber. He began striding straight for Evy. He would take the key and the book.
And then he would have his revenge on them all for the death of Anck-su-namun.
***
Evy felt a trickle of sweat run down the front of her face. But she could not spare an extra second. If she did not get the key open within the next few moments she would be dead.
She fumbled frantically, desperately trying to open the key. But the locking mechanism refused to work. She struggled with it, to no avail. She pressed the trigger, again and again, praying that the key would suddenly spring open.
But the box's wings did not budge. Panic soared through her. What would she do now?
***
Imhotep was half of the way to Evy. She crouched on the floor, the golden book next to her, desperately wrestling with the silvery key. How ironic, Imhotep thought to himself as he neared her. She had both the book and the key but could do nothing against him. A dark smile crossed his face.
In moments revenge would be his.
***
With a battle cry Ardeth hurled himself in the path of Imhotep. "Not so fast," Ardeth growled, brandishing his sword in the air.
"You!" Imhotep cried furiously, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. His perfect bronze body glistened.
Ardeth stood carefully between Imhotep and Evy in ready position, his scimitar naked in his hand. "Open the key Evy!" he shouted over his shoulder, never breaking eye contact with the priest.
"I'm trying!" she cried back, still wrestling furiously with the small box.
But a slow smile crept over Imhotep's face. "The key is broken. You will lose. You still want to fight me, Med Jai?" He bent down and picked up a discarded sword from the floor–one of the swords his soldier mummies had used.
Imhotep straightened and twirled the blade expertly in his hand. "You've been waiting a long time for this, haven't you?" He smiled darkly, noticing a small streak of blood on the edge of the sword.
Ardeth growled, the ancient fury rising up inside of him. All he needed to do was delay Imhotep until Evy could get the key open. All he needed was strength for a few moments. He gritted his teeth.
"Too long," Ardeth replied as he stepped forward, swinging his scimitar powerfully into the light. Imhotep too swung his blade forward, and the swords met, the two pieces of sharp metal screaming along each other.
***
Pierre reached Jonathan's side. The Englishman lay prone and sprawled, and for a moment Pierre was truly afraid that he was dead. He gently touched his side, fearing the worst. Guilt shot through him. They had traveled from Shanghai to the deserts of Egypt together, had risked their lives more than once. But he had never truly gotten to know him, had never truly tried to understand him.
"Jon," he whispered, his calloused hand going around Jonathan's shoulder.
At that Jonathan's body jerked to life. His mouth opened in a loud yelp of pain. Turning over and squinting up into Pierre's eyes, Jonathan groaned. "About bloody time," he muttered.
As Pierre looked on him in frozen surprise and relief, Jonathan rolled his eyes and grunted. "Help me up! And mind the sore shoulder!"
***
Ardeth and Imhotep battled fiercely across the great hall. But even as he fought Ardeth knew that he was losing.
He was exhausted. He had not realized how exhausted he was. He had fought Anubis warriors out on the sands, he had battled soldier mummies, and now he was facing the Lord of the Dead himself in his own throne room. Only a few more moments, Ardeth promised himself as his sword connected painfully with Imhotep's hateful thrust.
Didn't the creature ever tire? Ardeth wondered resentfully as he ducked another potentially deadly swipe. Backing up Ardeth took a deep breath, gaining a few extra precious seconds. Evy, he begged silently, please open the key. Please end this once and for all.
Because he knew that he was almost finished.
***
Looking up in horror at Ardeth and Imhotep's battle, Evy knew in a second that Ardeth was close to being finished. His sheer exhaustion was evident in every movement of his bruised body. Something had to be done.
There were no other options. She had to open the key. Immediately.
In frustration and helplessness, Evy banged the key on the marble floor. As the box hit the floor Evy heard a tiny click, an unhinging. The force of the blow echoed. The key reverberated in her hand.
Her hand in midair, Evy opened her grip. She let the key slip from her palm. It fell, as in slow motion, back to the earth. And as it fell back to the marble floor, with a hiss and a gleam, the key's wings shuttered open.
***
Ardeth fell to the ground. The force of Imhotep's cutting slash had been too much for him. He had blocked the blow only to find himself stumbling backwards, and falling. His back hit the marble floor and Ardeth closed his eyes. The world slowed in that moment, and Ardeth mentally prepared himself for death.
But as Imhotep took the final step towards the Med Jai King, raising his sword to end his life, he heard the sound of the key unlocking. In shock he turned. And saw the wings of the gleaming key spring open in mid-air.
***
"No!"
Imhotep cry of disbelief and denial echoed, but it was too late. In one deft motion Evy placed the opened key in the book and turned the lock.
And the golden book of Amun-Ra clicked open.
***
Ooooh! Cliffhanger! Hehe. Thank you all! I mean it this time, only two chapters left!
Onto the shoutouts...
Deana: I know, just like Jonathan to stumble in at the last minute...but that's what I love about him I suppose *sigh* And it seems your little wish has been granted...no, just kidding. But there is some Ardeth! ;-) Thanks my friend!
Mommints: Aww, I hate it when ff.net does that! I'll just lay here tonight and imagine what lovely things you said about the chapter. Actually, the review you left was praise enough. Thank you! And will there be more "H4" soon?
SorrowRain: Yay! Another new reader! Very happy to hear from you...and of course thrilled you're a Jonathan fan. Thanks for the compliments.
Jessie C: Wow, long review! Well, let me start off by saying that I haven't gotten a chance to check out your stories, but when I find a few free moments I will try to drop by. I appreciate your reading and reviewing Hereafter, of course. And you're right: writing well is very difficult, creating fully fleshed out characters and good story lines is not easy. That's why so many of us choose to dabble in fanfiction: we get to play around with terrific characters and premises already created for us...it makes starting up and writing a lot easier. That said, I don't know what makes a "true writer"...I don't know if that's a proper title, or a name that can be easily defined. Anyway, good luck on your next story, my first fanfic sucked too, so no worries...we all get better by practicing.
Ruse: So glad you liked the switching of perspectives! I was/am trying to capture the feeling of the movie's battle scenes, particularly the finale of TMR. So yay! Chamber Maid Ruse, lol. We'd all like to comfort Immy, wouldn't we...well, maybe not when he's furious and hell-bent on revenge ;-). Yes, poor Anck-su-namun and Immy...I still hate the ending of TMR where she runs away, and I like to think that if she was going to leave Immy it would be more like this, not a stupid, selfish act of cowardice. Thanks for the compliments and great work on Softly!
Silverfox: Lol, sorry you had to go through so much just to read the chap! And kill off Alex, hmmm...I hadn't thought of that, but now that you mention it...ok, just kidding. That would be pretty low, I must say myself. Thanks for the review, glad you're enjoying the story :-)
MBooker: I rock too? Yay! Hmm, k. Yeah, it was intense writing it too. And about your complaint...well, I hope I addressed it in this chapter. Yay for reunions. Thanks my friend!
Eviefan: Thanks! I was angry at TMR too for making Anck-su-namun run away. I like to think I've slightly corrected that wrong ;-) You're absolutely right...it's been a fun ride, but its time to wrap this baby up. On with the show indeed!
Elfpixie: Glad the emails went through. Thanks for the review :-)
Nickie: Welcome! I'm always happy to see a new reviewer! Thanks for the kind words ;-)
Aulizia: Oooh, feel better! Thanks for taking time to review when you're feeling so crappy ;-) And thanks...you made me blush all alone here in my room. I'm so pleased that I made you feel sorry for Anck-su-namun...your compliments are enough to make me smile for a week. And I would never get tired of you, silly :-)
Anya: Yup you're definitely right...Anck-su-namun has the soul of a queen. Thanks for the review :-)
Towmondler: Ooh, a Billy Madison "quote-off", eh? Well how about this: "Never say that! Stay here as long as you can!....Cherish it!" Now that I'm writing this I'm worrying that I might lose everyone else's respect if I keep quoting this movie. Ah well. It is a classic. But anyway...thank you my friend for the compliments! And that cookie sounds delicious...how about chocolate chip, mega-size, hot and soft and chewy, right from the oven? Hmmm....
Jessie McDonald: Yeah, Anjelica and Hubert as a couple would work great...except that one of them is dead. LOL. Thanks for reading and reviewing :-)
Mija: Glad you liked it. Thanks for the review!
