Speak Softly
Excuse Me, Forgive Me

1935: Ardeth Bay is resurrected from the dead. He awakens to a world vastly different, to familiar faces changing and to the knowledge that he is Egypt's final hope for freedom.

He also finds out just how far love and despair can take him.

~~~~~~~

Jonathan stood out on the large terrace adjoining the grand dining hall where the king held all of his gloating feasts. The morning after a storm was quite pleasant—the now moist Egyptian air soothing and cozy and the endless dunes and jagged, dusty slate bathed in unnatural mist. It was really quite beautiful out here, melancholy and mysterious. These were the few moments each day Jonathan could find peace before his grueling work in the field below. Too soon he would be called to his work, building the great statue of Imhotep that would stand to overlook the land.

He hated that thing. He hated the likeness and the man. Yet every day he slaved over the creation of this honoring monument to the priest's so-called glory for the sake of his sister. He was all Evy had left now and to run away or get himself killed for the sake of escape was not an option.

Evy needed him most of all, but Rick also counted on him to watch over her, to help her through Imhotep's insanity because he himself could not. The ex-Legionnaire had forbidden Jonathan to tell her that he was even alive for fear he would be killed and it would hurt her further. Evy was probably going to kill him when she found out.

Jonathan couldn't find out what had happened to Ardeth. No one had seen the Med-Jai brought in, nor heard a word from the pharaoh about him. Of course that didn't mean Ardeth was dead, Imhotep could be quite crafty when he chose, but all in all the evidence seemed to point to the idea that perhaps when the priest had claimed Evy, he had killed Ardeth then and there and left him in the Field of the Med-Jai. Jonathan did not want to tell her that. She was going to ask him if he had heard anything and what would he be able to say?

Evy seemed very bothered by Ardeth's death and naturally she should be—he was their friend, but Jonathan worried for her. There was so little reason to hope these days. Sometimes he himself would drown his sorrows in a bottle and count the years ahead of him. But he had to stay here for her sake. There was no way he would leave her to Imhotep, all alone to deal with the priest and his obsession. Imhotep would never let her go. Jonathan had thought for sure if caught waking Ardeth, Evy would be killed for her daring to do such a thing, but she had gotten away with it.

Footsteps sounded from behind, but Jonathan didn't bother to turn. He wanted to watch the morning progress. It soothed his nerves. "Pleasant, is it not?" came the voice of the very man weighing on his mind as he approached quietly, but with enough presence that Jonathan could almost feel him coming.

He took a drink from the small glass he'd set on the railing. "Yes," he answered simply, then swirled the contents of his glass around. "One of the few things that are in this god forsaken place." Turning around, he saw the priest regarding him neutrally, clad in deepest black as was befitting of such a person. His attire, his whole palace breathed of inner darkness and intimacy with death. "What can I do for you, Pharaoh?"

"Mmm," Imhotep hummed, pacing a little with a thoughtful face. He rubbed his finger against his lip and looked up. "You are willing to serve me without question?"

Grunting at that and taking another drink, Jonathan shrugged. "You act as if I have a bloody choice in the matter. I'm not leaving Evy alone with you." He winced at the expression on the priest's face.

Nevertheless, Imhotep ignored that for the moment and waved his hand. "Your motives matter not to me, but the continued obedience does. What I want of you is simple. I wish for you to consider Nefertiri's future and what is best for her."

That sounded good on the surface, but there was a reason he was saying it. A likely dark and terrible reason that the priest would spring on him at any given moment. Jonathan nodded his head and knit his brows, preparing for such a thing. "I always do, Imhotep. Always do."

The other folded his arms together before him and smiled. There was something in those dark eyes that made Jonathan nervous when he spoke. "Good. That is also my aim, brother of Nefertiri, though you may not believe that. I wish to provide for her the best life I can."

Jonathan shook his head, daring to interrupt. He had to at that. "The best life? Why not let her go, then?" Imhotep instantly appeared annoyed.

"Do not question my provisions, servant. I will keep my own counsel on what is best." His tone was hard, but not nearly as hard as it could be as he glared, then turned his attention on the morning. "I have offered her a life at my side as queen. Nefertiri will have only the finest this world can offer. Only the finest that I can offer, including how she and I interact. I am no fool. I know material things and power do not influence her, but what will matter is how she is treated and the overall quality of life for her."

Shaking his head, Jonathan raised his hands and shrugged. He took a good drink, finishing the contents of his glass. "Queen? You…you want her to be your queen? No offence, old boy, but why would you even consider she would accept, if she indeed has any choice in the matter?"

The priest paused as he came to rest his hands on the black railing separating onlookers from their deaths, his eyes downcast as he considered. "You are right," he conceded. "Immediately she has no reason to accept. It is not a marriage of love I offer, but of peace between us. I have hurt her enough. If she agrees to become my queen I will give her only the best of this world and the best of myself. She is a princess, proud and strong. Jonathan, do you understand what I offer and what kind of life she would be leaving behind her? There is nothing left in this world for her but what I can give her."

Jonathan stayed quiet a moment, mulling these things over. Naturally the priest had some sort of hidden agenda—he'd be a fool to believe this was out of the goodness of his heart, but what was best for Evy? Everything inside of him, every ounce of pride and rebellion against Imhotep screamed against such a thing as his sister marrying him, but what if the priest did treat her better? What if that was the only hope she had? Would being a queen be better than being a concubine? Right now she was a toy for Imhotep's pleasure, but he knew enough of the man to see that try as he might, he did not think in present day terms.

To Imhotep Evy was a princess and perhaps there was something inside of him that still respected her divinely given place as the daughter of a pharaoh. He was less than honorable, but he did not hold his ancient gods and their ways in contempt. No, giving Imhotep what he wanted—no matter how attractive it seemed—would be wrong…wouldn't it? He looked up uncertainly. "Why do you want this? Why should it matter to you whether my sister is a slave or a queen?"

Imhotep exhaled thoughtfully. "You have not the memories of the past. You do not understand how I knew her. I will make her pay the debt she owes me, make no mistake. But that does not change how I felt for that young girl who looked to me as a teacher once. I gave all I was for Ancksunamun because of my undying love, not out of greed or for power. Is it truly so hard to believe I would forget who Nefertiri was to me?"

"Yes," Jonathan answered right away, making Imhotep frown. What else could be possibly expect, if indeed he wanted truth from his slaves? "Well, what do you want me to say? You've turned the bloody world upside down! Maybe you do have a caring bone in your body somewhere, but I'm not doing anything where Evy's concerned if I don't believe it's the right thing. Just what do you want me to do, anyway?"

The priest eyed Jonathan, then once again looked across his country. "I only wish you to talk with her. Tell her what you believe of my proposal, be it for or against. Do what is best for your sister."

Before Jonathan could comment further a cough came from the doorway. Nashean entered with a hard expression and bowed before his king. He held up a paper with hieroglyphs on it, but Imhotep took it before Jonathan could read anything. The priest skimmed through the message and then curled his lips into a smile Jonathan found unsettling. He looked up, saying, "Think on my words," as he swept away, the ever-pleasing Nashean trailing his feet like a dog.

Jonathan rolled his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face, muttering, "Bloody hell." He could hear the slaves gathering below to begin another day's work and now he didn't even have the calm of morning to pave the way to his hard labor. Much more had just been laid upon his shoulders, another worry to add to the long list. Now would be a good time for a rescue, but what if that never came? What would be best for them—for Evy?

~~~~~~~

"Ardeth!"

The shouting shook every nerve in his body. He could hear the sound of hooves beating into the sand. Many hooves. Ardeth raced from his tent, holding his weapon tightly. Other Med-Jai warriors came from their homes, half dressed and confused as to what was happening. What Ardeth saw made his eyes widen. This was wrong. His people were unprepared. The night guard cried out for the Med-Jai to awaken.

Heading for the encampment was a large body of men dressed the same as the five he and Sajul had contended against last night. Instantly he realized last night had likely been a test of the strength of the Med-Jai. With a shout Ardeth raced through his brothers and straight for the battle being waged nearby. Sajul was at the head of the attack, fighting off two men on horseback.

Soon enough he himself was in the center of battle as three men jumped from their steeds and approached him. The first of them kicked out and Ardeth dodged in time for a second to send his fist into his chin. He fell to the sand, feeling it's gritty roughness between his fingers. The sounds of swords clashing filled his ears.

He rolled over before the sword of his foe could cut into him. Ardeth pulled himself up and swung his scimitar, slicing into the skin of the third enemy before he could even offer an attack. Another came at him from behind, but Ardeth took care of that with a backward thrust. The third slashed and he deflected. Another man behind him kicked him down to the sand again. Looking up, Ardeth saw Sajul fighting five of these men. The other Med-Jai, very nearly his brother all his long years, glanced and met Ardeth's eyes. There was real fear written with those dark depths. That made Ardeth nervous for some reason.

Ardeth again yanked himself from the sands and fought off another enemy, then another and another. It was a dance he knew well. The fighting became a blur as he let go of thought and trusted his instincts. He took out a great many foes that way. Soon only bodies surrounded him.

The pained whinny of a horse drew his attention and Ardeth whirled around. A large, dark man halted his mount and drew his leg over the saddle. When his feet hit the sand it seemed unnaturally loud to him. Those dark eyes burned in hatred. "So you are Ardeth Bay," he said in contempt, drawing his sword.

"I am," Ardeth replied with an incline of his chin. He held himself in the defensive. "I'm afraid I haven't the same advantage of knowing the name of the one I fight." The dark man slashed out at Ardeth, a blow easily deflected.

With a grim smile the man kept flawless eye contact, oblivious to what was going on around them. Ardeth didn't like this man who seemed to have come solely for him. "My name is Lock-Nah, Med-Jai. A name your people will remember with hatred because today I am going to kill you."

Ardeth laughed at that and deflected, then struck out at this man. "I cannot tell you how many times I have heard that, Lock-Nah. That threat does not carry the weight you may have intended it to." It was true and yet somewhere inside not. Foolishness, Ardeth thought to himself. He knew someday that threat would be followed through, but not today. Not if he had anything to do with it.

Lock-Nah pressed into Ardeth with a three-blow attack, all three fought off with great effort on Ardeth's part. He was certainly going to try to see his threat to success. Lock-Nah grinned darkly and kicked Ardeth in the stomach, causing him to double over momentarily.

Fighting back suddenly nausea at that, Ardeth stumbled back and thrust his scimitar forward. Lock-Nah dodged, but the blade nicked the skin of his large bicep. Those black eyes were amused instead of enraged. He attacked Ardeth with a vengeance, sending quickly delivered, strong blows that Ardeth fought to keep up with.

But he blocked every thrust of the sword from damaging his body. Every single one. All others left them alone. This battle was between them and something about it seemed important, though why Ardeth could not guess. Not until it was too late.

Lock-Nah sneered and kicked the Med-Jai away long enough to drop his sword and draw a gun. Two shots rang out and at first Ardeth questioned whether or not he had even been hit. But there was a sudden sensation somewhere near his right kidney that confirmed Lock-Nah's success. Ardeth groaned as the tingling became pain. He fell to ground with a thud he knew he would remember forever.

Inhaling slowly, Ardeth blinked and gazed up into the sky. The sun was rising. Lock-Nah blocked the lovely view and stood over his left. "You see? I spoke truth to you and in your arrogance you did not believe. Foolish Med-Jai."

Bay reached a shaking hand up to his hip and felt along until his fingers crossed the tear in his robe. Blood already poured out from his wound, but he didn't think it was a killing blow. But what came next would be.

In his peripheral vision he saw Lock-Nah's foot draw back. A dozen or so things flashed through his mind, from the laughter of friends and family, to ways of escaping this. There were none. Suddenly life seemed to change and he knew what would come would be irrevocable. He felt something violently slam into his head and could perceive his neck suddenly hurting, but after that there was just…nothing. Absolute and unfathomable nothingness that swallowed him whole with an iron, unshakable grip. He couldn't stop it.

Ardeth slipped away.

Waking up fast, Ardeth widened his eyes and sat suddenly, his whole body shaking. The very air he took in had to be fought for and sweat poured from his forehead, moistening his dark hair. His heart pounded and he felt disoriented. Even in the dream he could feel himself slipping away, whether a part of him truly left or perhaps in remembrance. His heart was beating rapidly. That alone convinced him that he still lived. His vision could not offer the same comfort.

"You fought bravely," a voice rasped. Necromancer. He was still with the necromancer. It started coming back to him. In exhaustion he had insisted on rest, though despite this creature's assurance he still feared him. The tunnels were deep and long here and he simply could not have gone further.

Smoothing his hair back, Ardeth swallowed and tried in vain to see some small bit of light. There simply was nothing to see, but he just couldn't stop trying. "I've got to get out of this place," he breathed, aware that his hands still shook. The blackness felt like the end he had met years ago. If felt like slipping away, only this was perpetual slipping. This was a place between life and death.

Necromancer chuckled darkly at his unease and for a moment Ardeth wondered what this creature with rasping tones looked like. What had he been before? If he sensed that wonder, he gave no indication and offered no answer. "You know what I found interesting about your death? You felt a dark foreboding. I could sense it as I viewed your memory. Your spirit knew your time was growing close, but you simply could not accept it in your mortal mind."

That Ardeth could do without. This necromancer was beginning to wear on his nerves with his evil words and trespassing into his mind. "So you were in my mind?" he asked in unconcealed irritation. He grunted and rubbed a hand over his forehead.

"I hide nothing from you, Chosen. I examined your memories as quietly as I could, but the vision of your death was too powerful for me to contain. And so you saw it with me in the form of a dream." The creature paused as if considering. "I cannot see past the fatal kick Lock-Nah delivered you, but you did not pass then."

Ardeth couldn't remember past that either and wondered what had taken place in the hours between the injury and his death. "I was told that I died later that night. I had not regained consciousness." He imagined what the others might have done, finding him prone out on the battlefield. Had Sajul told Arya of her brother's fatal injury?

The quiet around them was unsettling and though horrible as it was, Ardeth welcomed Necromancer's talking. "The woman told you," he reflected. "I see her all over you, in your eyes and on your lips. This Evelyn gave you the terrible gift of life."

Sighing, Bay closed his eyes and shook his head softly, wondering if Necromancer was watching him. He seemed to see despite the lack of light. "It is not so terrible a gift. I see it as a blessing that she felt she could put her faith in me to help. It shows me that in my life before I was a good friend to her."

Necromancer snorted a laugh. "I see your mind, Chosen, even the things you yourself cannot see or won't admit to." Ardeth said nothing and the creature hissed in a triumphant breath, continuing. "You doubt your ability and even in the infinite caring that is your heart a piece of you is angered by her thoughtless gift. I know anger well, Med-Jai and can sense it in you."

"Perhaps I am angry with you for your endless rambling and arrogant assumptions," Ardeth retorted hotly.

His tone didn't phase the monster beside him. It only rasped in amusement. "Believe what you will, Ardeth Bay. But know that this woman will betray you."

That got Ardeth's attention and he rolled his eyes at himself because Necromancer would know no matter if he pretended it did not. Those sparkling brown eyes flashed into his memory and the pain she had felt because of his reaction to his people. She would never betray him. He couldn't imagine it. "You lie," he accused into the darkness.

"Perhaps," Necromancer replied and that more than a denial made Ardeth wonder. Its voice became a little more suggestive. "But I see your hurt. Your heart is broken. The Med-Jai are gone forever, you the last of their legacy. Can you hope to beat Imhotep? What good did your return do? Death calls you back, Ardeth Bay. Accept it."

Ardeth shoved those words and doubts from his thoughts, determined not to let this creature trick him. Instead he focused on the task ahead. "Enough of this talk, Necromancer. I wish to be at the entrance and away from you as soon as possible." He stood up and waited.

The creature pulled itself up and grabbed for Ardeth's uninjured arm to lead him once more. It jerked him forward and they began the rest of the journey. "Yes. Your welcome was worn out before you got here. A pity we had to stop and rest."

There was something about that that bothered him. Ardeth knit his brows. The tunnels were long, but not possibly even more than a day's journey even through twists and turns. He should have been able to withstand long enough to get away from Necromancer. His memories… "You did something to me, didn't you? You made me tired so you could sift through my mind."

"Yes, yes," Necromancer hissed hastily. His breathing rattled in whatever sort of chest a dead creature might possess. "I hide nothing. I do not fear you. You are important, Chosen. Very few have passed over to the other side and returned and those who have came with purpose. I wished to know all I could about you."

Frowning at that, Ardeth entertained shoving this beast away and traversing alone for the sake of privacy, but he knew he needed this sickening thing. It would be foolish to fumble through the dark when a guide was being offered. Necromancer seemed to know everything about him anyway and likely could find it no matter how far away he was.

He thought about Evy again, puzzling over what this creature meant by betrayal. How did Necromancer even know? This mind-leech had strange powers that even Imhotep was not privileged to. Why then didn't he take action against the hated priest? "Because he is the master of the dead!" Necromancer snarled, hostility pouring off of him. It made Ardeth want to take his arm back. Necromancer hissed and rasped, feeding his anger with continued hate. "He is untouchable by me because of that. I do not have the power to kill him and free my people. Hhrrr. I know not who to hate more between the two of you!"

There was nothing to be said about that. Ardeth had no desire to win this creature's approval by pointing out that he could bring about Imhotep's death. Let these dead things hate him, for he loathed them every bit as much. Necromancer grunted and clawed his wrist. "You think you are so good with your bright face and blood. You have much to go through before your destiny comes. We shall see if you hold true to what you were chosen for."

Ardeth nodded softly, knowing he could never conceal his doubts from this creature. He blinked his sightless eyes and exhaled deeply, saying, "Yes. That we will."

~~~~~~~

Disclaimer: No infringement intended. Ahamad, Nashean, Mayadeh, Sajul, Necromancer and a few other originals belong to me.

A/N: Don't you just love these long chapters that drag out plot tidbits?? ;-) I know…I know. I'm feeling angsty cause the action's lower and I don't wanna bore, but it's coming up soon! I promise Ardeth will see the light of day before he's too much older. ;-D Ricky's coming!

To Reviewers:

Lula – Thanks for the comments! I'm glad you like what's going on…I plan on developing Ardeth's little change and the side effects thereof as well as other things surrounding what a changed being's life force can do. :-D Yeppers, he's the chosen, chosen to bring Imhotep death. But what does that mean, anyway? ;-) Anyway, if Ricky's as munchy as I feel now, then by all means he needs to grab that toast! Thanks!

Deana – Thank you, my friend, what would I do without you? :-D Thanks for tips and pointing out my errors! You are awesome!

Marxie – Yeah, that's of course where I got some of that inspiration, from Buffsters. It's a shame they didn't develop that more, ya know? Would have been interesting. Thanks for the comments and for reading and reviewing Fury and Passion. I'm very pleased you like! :-)

Thanks everyone else…hope you're still with me after last week's mishap. Bleh. I wish ff.net could change the chapters right away! :-D Doh! Anyone seen Two Towers??? I can't until Saturday, doh!!! I saw me a walkin' treeee on a commercial though. ;-) And had a dream about Frodo riding on an elephant in a small room filled with water. The elephant was trying to start a whirlpool. Is that not insane??? Anyway, I dreamt the movie was boring! Can you imagine? Lol.