Speak Softly
Onset

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.

~~~~~~~

The day was wearing on and evening would blanket Egypt before too long. Imhotep had not said much since Ardeth departed and that was very okay with Evelyn. Each time she heard his voice it made her stomach hurt because it reflected her future with him. Her dark eyes traveled to the pack on the floor that held Ardeth's bloody, torn robe. As soon as he was out of sight she had picked it up and took it with her to Imhotep's tent. "You went far in driving him away," her master said, noticing where she had looked.

She had hurt Ardeth on a very personal level, she knew, both in mentioning Rick and in asserting Imhotep's wish that Ardeth take the cloak and leave his own robe. It was nothing but a cloth to the ages of the world, but to both Ardeth and Imhotep it was a symbol of victory over the other. She had blatantly sided against Ardeth in something important to him, causing him pain. That had been her intention even after knowing what her little comment about Rick had done, though now that she had done these things, it caused her much grief. If he hated her she would understand. In fact she prayed for his hate, for that would be what kept him away. "I know," Evy replied in a voice that was barely there. A hand touched her shoulder and she fought back the urge to recoil. If she were going to spend her life as this man's wife, she would try to maintain peace. "You never did tell me where we were going. We're going to meet the Americans, but where? Greece?"

Imhotep shook his head and gazed outside a moment, then returned his dark eyes to hers. "Your old home, my queen. My palace at London is where we shall meet with the president of failing America. Because you are my promised I will allow you to sit in while we meet and perhaps speak if you have something to say. Also I plan to have our marriage take place there. Perhaps attending will make this Roosevelt more agreeable." He made a face and tested the foreign word again with his heavy accent.

Evy pursed her lips and folded her hands in her lap uncomfortably. The idea of visiting London should have brought joy, but it didn't. England had been plunged into an indefinite winter since Imhotep had started toying with the weather. It was cold, barren and frightful in its darkness. Snow blanketed the ground endlessly and the cover of Eternal Sorrow made everything that much more stark. England's death had been one of those harsh realities of life with Imhotep.

"Now that I'm going to be your wife," Evy said it with distaste, "do I get to dress like a decent lady or shall I still gallivant around like a common harlot?"

Her betrothed slave-master took on that infernal grin he sometimes did and ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "I would not have you dressed improperly, Nefertiri. You are to be a queen and should therefore dress and act as one. I am not your father."

Right, she thought to herself with a sigh. He tried to prove himself different from Seti, but as far as she could tell he made little distinction. From her memory Seti had been an arrogant and pampered brat, wanting everything his way and ruthless in his pursuit of shaping the world in whatever form he saw fit. Imhotep was no different. It was the past being relived again and if she had failed Ardeth would dare Imhotep's anger just as Imhotep had Seti's. Maybe she was fooling herself, believing he would simply walk away and give up. She hated not knowing, but she would swallow the medicine she had given herself and try to forget. This was only the first day. Of course he would cloud her thoughts like a storm.

"Nefertiri," Imhotep breathed gently, touching her face again and watching her through strangely soft eyes. It made her hostility diminish. "We are almost to the border. When we reach land again I will send for a tailor. I will not shame you in front of outsiders."

Evy nodded her head, eager for to have more conservative clothes as soon as possible. That was one advantage to marrying him. The slaves and guards wouldn't dare cast lustful eyes upon her nearly naked body ever again, or they would suffer severe punishments.

She looked up and saw the barrier getting closer. It was magnificent in appearance, what his magic could do. Beyond would be the remains of Cairo, a few buildings and the docks—the only traces of humanity left standing. Ardeth could not cross this border and endanger himself. Maybe she could convince Imhotep to stay in England for a time. Long enough for Ardeth to lose hope.

~~~~~~~

The night had a distinct atmosphere that blurred the lines between being sad and supernaturally beautiful. The air was soft to the touch, crisp and cool as they walked on silent feet and with silent lips into the desert. Ardeth drew the cloak of Osiris around him tightly and looked on the horizon ahead. It conjured strange images within his memory that he wasn't completely sure had been there before. There was something about dark eyes, a reason to be afraid and the sense of giving up everything for one purpose—his present, but not his past.

Necromancer had said nothing for long hours, but seemed to be keeping an eye on him nonetheless, with curious, sidelong glances. But he said nothing. Ardeth didn't feel like himself and could do with comfort that he wasn't losing his mind, even from Necromancer. He felt as chilled as he had when he had been awakened. But he knew dwelling on these feelings was not helping.

Instead he thought of Evelyn and almost immediately Necromancer snorted in contempt. "You fawn over her as if she were some goddess!" he spat, flexing his bony fingers and giving Ardeth a dark glare. "This is Heaven's beloved, who cannot think past the lust in his own heart. Oh, what an example of goodness are you."

"Unfortunately, it is not lust that troubles me, Necromancer," Ardeth replied in low tones, wishing the conversation dropped. He had to push this away, he knew. He couldn't allow himself to think on her either.

The necromancer chuckled darkly and hissed to himself, then considered his companion through sparkling eyes. "God help you, if you truly love her, Ardeth. She might want you, but her heart is divided between you and the other man, and even more so, you and her king. She will see the changes in him, see the old priest she knew as a girl. She will change him back if she can. They dine and I feel his satisfaction at having her. He will try to seduce her and succeed."

Grunting, Ardeth watched the clouds moving in the distance and breathed confidently, "She will not fall for it. She could never love him."

Sajul laughed openly at that and coughed. "Oh, how right you are. She has forgotten how to love properly. For two years her heart has been frozen beneath the forced caress of his desire, kept away from the warmth of giving and trapped inside the loveless, cold walls of being his slave. Did you honestly believe her capable of even recognizing true love after so long? She is afraid of you, afraid all men are like him down deep. How could she love you without trust? She won't love him, but lust is not unfamiliar to her."

Ardeth wondered if it would be impossible to find the temple on his own. Deciding to chance it, he stopped and turned an angry glare on Necromancer. "Where is the Temple of Osiris? I have had my last of you, Necromancer. I don't care where you go, but do not follow me. Tell me where the temple is."

"You turn away guidance for the whore, then?"

Shaking his head, Ardeth took a step toward this fiend and snapped, "This is not about…Evelyn!" His eyes widened as he realized his hesitance. What had he been about to say? It troubled him, but he tried to forget it for now and continue with his point. "There is a world out there that needs me. Whatever her motives for bringing me back, my own mission was and shall remain to free this world from Imhotep's treachery. If you truly have some destined purpose to guide me, then do it in silence."

Necromancer did not back down from the angry Med-Jai that stood threateningly before him. "Oh, how like him you become. So angry and arrogant. Do you remember his life, Ardeth? I feel the troubled thoughts you are having, my old friend. I have been watching and listening, you see. Do you see the face of the woman who had you murdered?"

He was at a loss, feeling he needed this creature's help, but knowing Sajul would never hold the peace. "Shut up," Ardeth growled, heading on into the night. Imhotep he was not, and never would be. How dare Necromancer suggest such a thing? Yet the name on his lips had not been Evelyn's. He brooded in silence about Imhotep's healing, his shared life. This was too far. After everything he had taken away, he couldn't take Ardeth's own self away from him. It was a frightening prospect because he had no idea how far it would go. Things could get worse if he fell under the priest's sway. It was a mistake to raise me, he thought gently, picturing Evy's face.

His former friend pushed no more words of discouragement towards him. They traveled in silence, walking eastward as the darkness deepened. Ardeth had no idea where he was supposed to go, but so far Necromancer had not argued the direction.

Necromancer followed his orders well and spoke nothing at all. Midnight came and went with little ease of worry, and only then did Ardeth tire enough to make the choice to rest with a sudden need. "Here," he said, ending his stride and shooting Necromancer an annoyed glance as the creature hissed. "We'll stop here for the night."

Sajul tilted his head back and stood aloof, offering no help to the weary Med-Jai as he pulled a tent from the supply pack and settled on his knees to erect it. He felt almost too tired for the task, but was not about to ask for the aid of the monster. Necromancer didn't seem all that eager to make this trip easy on him, at any rate, and would likely decline. "Is there a reason why I should make it easy?" his friend asked, ever sifting through his mind.

Ardeth stopped unfolding the tent and looked up from his place in the sand, weary of the endless waves of accusation that never came with any merit of substance. "What happened to you? Have you always hated me this much and never shown it? Did I hurt you gravely and never understand what I did?"

"Hrr. Perhaps I have always hated you, my friend." Ardeth hovered a moment, stung by that prospect and the memories of friendship that assailed him. This man had been very nearly his own brother. They had told each other things that no other knew and been through the trials of life and death together. He would have believed this of Rick before Sajul, almost. His former friend did not take well to that thought and kicked sand up at him. "Yes, you would compare me to that whelp, wouldn't you?" He laughed suddenly. "And we are alike, for he is angry at you for taking his woman. He left you to die in the sand, just as I…just as I would if I could!" Ruffled, Necromancer began to pace.

"And what, Sajul, have I ever done to you?" Bay demanded, wishing for the life of him this man would tell him. Up until the day he had been killed Sajul had never given any indication of even the beginnings of such bitterness. "Have I ever been anything other than a brother to you?"

Necromancer stopped his restless strides and gazed down with sudden want. Instead of answering, he whispered, "Commit suicide, Ardeth. Kill yourself." His chest heaved in desire of that thought, his fingers curled and arms pressed to his sides. The hunger pouring off this thing made Ardeth think twice about falling asleep with it anywhere near him. His voice became pleading almost, those glittery eyes willing him to such an act. "I have a knife for you to slit your wrists with. Or there is an oasis near to here, whose cool waters I will hold you beneath if you prefer. As strong as I was in life, so much more in death have I become. You would not survive if you but chose to follow me."

Those evil words chilled him in the pale dark. The longing in his friend's voice for him to do those things to himself warned him against trust, but he knew he could not make it without rest. Sleep called to him and Ardeth set his hands again to the work of building his tent. He could not let himself be ruled by fear and so far Necromancer had already turned down opportunities to kill him in his sleep. So he blatantly ignored the threatening growl coming from his friend and said in a low tone, "The next time you think about wasting your breath on such words, think twice about how you believe I will answer."

The creature bared its teeth in a hideous grimace and crouched as if to pounce, and admittedly it was an effort, but Ardeth wouldn't let himself give in to this mind game. He turned his back on the threat and continued his work. Behind him Necromancer rustled in the sand, but he did not sway. Not for anything his friend did, not for all his fear. And soon weariness took the want away from him.

When had his body become so exhausted? Ardeth's hand hit the ground to steady himself as he closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. For only one moment's rest before completing the tent. When he heard the dark chuckle and the whisper, he knew he had made a mistake in allowing himself to fall victim to sleep.

"Rest in peace, Ardeth."

~~~~~~~

It was night and that was his excuse. The other men wandered out at night, so why not he? Jonathan hopped a little nervously in place, standing there tucked in an alley with a cloak over him that obscured his features from all but the man sizing him up. Sitting on a simple chair with a table before him and an umbrella over, an aged man with silvery hair that went by the name 'Aladdin' sat with his goods and cared nothing for the thugs that ran rampant. This man seemed to take him for a fool, or so Jonathan surmised as he dug into his pocket. Mercifully the old money still worked in this terrible country. "Bloody hell," he breathed, forking through his old wallet for cash. He gave the street a glance, and then glared down at the old man. "This is highway robbery, you know."

The elderly chap shrugged and lounged in his little chair, causing the thing to creak horribly. Both man and seat had to have aged well beyond eighty. "You take it or you leave it," he replied in a very heavy accent. "I don't care what you do. But you're not getting it until you pay. I don't change prices, not for you, not for any man, you hear?"

"Yes, yes," Jonathan sighed, counting his money with a concealed groan. He had managed to save this stash back for two long years, just in case, and now he was going to have to spend a little more than he really cared to in order to purchase a certain item he knew he was going to have use for in the future. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures. This man had what he needed, a rare precious jewel in the rough that couldn't go without being bought. He handed over a nice little wad of cash and prayed this man had change. "Don't the local ruffians bother you at all?"

Aladdin pushed a thick pair of glasses up on his nose and opened a small box, shoving Jonathan's precious money in, and did not go for change. "I don't care what they do. I'm eighty-four. What you think I care for ruffians, huh? As long as I get my money."

Voices echoed from afar and Jonathan glanced again at the street, wishing this old buzzard would get a move on. As it was, the man slowly reached into a case beside his seat and lifted what the Englishman wanted, tilted his glasses down his nose and peered at the item to be sure it was correct. A sudden logic hit Jonathan like an epiphany from Heaven. Maybe if he were annoying this man would work a little faster just to be rid of him. He decided to ask what he had deemed a few moments ago perhaps too rude. "Ah, you did say your name was Aladdin, right?" He really did try to conceal his grin. Really, he did.

Aladdin looked up over the rims of his heavy specs with hard eyes and answered, "Shut up. Iss what my mother named me and if you don't like it, you can rot in the underworld, you pest." The old man jerked his hand up and offered the goods.

With a little chuckle Jonathan took the bottle. "I say. Didn't mean any harm, old chap. Just wondering. It's a perfectly fine name." Drawing his cloak over his face, he headed into the night to the sounds of Aladdin's mutterings concerning outlanders and the call of voices in the night. He was going to have to get back to the hideout quick if he were going to keep his head.

In the course of thinking on Jorin's thugs it occurred to him that Rick might very well have parted with his own head sometime in the past day or so. An ill-mannered tenant of Layla's little building named Esam had warned him of that possibility and of the fact that Jorin's hideout was nearly impossible to penetrate. Possible, impossible, alive or dead. These things whirled through his mind like a storm. He couldn't just accept Rick was gone. There was something impossible seeming about that. That just wasn't how this world worked.

Or maybe it was. He hadn't been able to pry much out of anyone about Layla's sorrow, but he gathered something really wrong had happened, something having to do with these local criminals. Her husband had died in the war with Imhotep, though. That left Sania's rumored sister. No one would talk about that and given Layla's tone that seemed the fresher wound.

People died and that was just a fact of life. Layla seemed wracked with grief, Ardeth had died twice. Evy was being abused at every turn by an evil madman. These things weren't supposed to happen to them. They were the heroes. They were the ones who had brought Imhotep down the first time. But in all the pain of this place, why shouldn't Rick have found peace? Jonathan uncapped the bottle he was clutching and took a quick drink before proceeding across a vacant street. "Who am I?" he whispered to the darkness surrounding him as another alley covered his path. Who was he to have the responsibility of saving the world thrust on his shoulders? That question bothered him a little more than he actually let on.

He ran from things. In a little under two years he had watched his sister suffer with Imhotep and while she claimed the priest rarely ever touched her, Jonathan wasn't sure whether or not to believe that or if the numbers mattered in the long run. Evy wouldn't reveal such personal pain to him. If he hadn't caught Imhotep leaving her quarters that first night he wouldn't have known to go and check on her. He wouldn't have found her lying in her bed with tears in her eyes. Jonathan took another drink. She would likely have hidden it to this day.

If it had been O'Connell they would have escaped right after that, if not before. If it had been Ardeth with her instead. Why had it been so hard to try and grab Evy and shove her out the door one of those nights to run away? Fate had trusted him with the job of keeping his sister safe and by all means he wanted to do it and do it right, but just who was he? He hated that he was a runner. He hated the memories and the doubts.

He didn't consider himself a stupid man by any means, but he just couldn't figure out why facing the world's monsters came hard for him. Why was he now finding the thought of trying to rescue Rick a bit fearful? He just had no clue where to start, which was why he had been a wanderer all his life. His intentions were good. Jonathan genuinely wanted to play the part of the hero and come through for his friend and for his sister, but that pesky start eluded him. And the 'what ifs' concerning possible failure.

Hearing two men speaking nearby, he came to a stop and ducked into the shadows with his breath held. They spoke in tired tones and said his name once. They were looking for him. "What's Jorin want with this Carnahan, anyway? It's not like he needs him. O'Connell'll get the job done easier if it's just him and not two of 'em." That perked his interest. What was this? A little chance at redemption for old Jonathan?

The voices crept closer. "O'Connell wants him found for his own safety. Seems he doesn't trust us." The thug laughed, then quieted with a long exhale. "Anyway, I say we just go back. I'm sick of this. Little American wants his friend, let him do the job and come back to find him himself, eh?"

"Yeah."

They passed the very alley where Jonathan hid and he watched them go, wondering within what to do now. Someone up there must still like me, he thought and thanked God for imparted knowledge. But what to do with that knowledge? Go with O'Connell or stay? By rights he should have declared himself, but after getting to know Layla, he wasn't so sure. O'Connell was alive and well, even had himself a job. Those thugs had suggested Jonathan's presense would get in the way, that Rick was only doing this for his safety, as well.

Well, safety could bloody well wait. Rick knew where to find him and they would catch up with each other sooner or later. He appreciated the thought, but Jonathan didn't want his safety bought for him right now and there was something he felt he needed to do right now. His good fortune seemed to be pointing him in the direction of staying out of this business, for not only did he know O'Connell didn't need rescuing, but he saw other people that did have need. Little Sania had no one but her waspish mother and by God if there was something he was good at, it was women. A little of his charm might go a long way in making Layla wake up and take notice of the daughter she did have.

Plus there were the cookies in his left pocket.

~~~~~~~

Disclaimer: No infringement intended. Ahamad, Nashean, Mayadeh, Sajul/Necromancer, Arya and Jorin (and a few other insignificant originals) belong to me.

A/N: Hmm…:O I'm having trouble with the other fic…so I'm posting what I have ready, which is this. :-O

To Reviewers:

Elizabeth – Thanks for the review. :-) Sorry it's not Rick/Evy, but I'm glad there's room at ff.net for all ideas and tastes. :-)

Lula – Holy cows, that's the longest review I've ever seen! Hehehe! Thank you muchly, my friend! How much can I put Ardeth through? I could put him through another 50 years of hell if he were real and willing to marry me! ;-) Lol. Hell and Heaven, a mix of both. But yeah…I mean Immy to be smug. I do love him, but I love him both nice and evil. ;-D He's very sexy when he's being a jerk. Thoughts of Ardeth naked, Lu, you're going to get me into trouble sitting here, losing myself to daydreams like that! My parents will come up and find me unconscious on the floor with a dazed, happy look on my face! Thank you very much on complimenting my descriptives…but my friend, you do write that way and better! I know Evy was kinda mean, but she haaad to! *sniff* For the sake of Ardeth's life! ;-) Plus, you know, angst is gooood. ;-D AS for the breakage of the armage, well, I hadn't thought of it…perhaps I'll have Ardeth give it a mention to someone at a later point when he explains to someone who Neccy is. :-D Thank you for singling out that part you posted…that's one of the ones I revised from the original before posting. As for outdid myself, well, I know it's a lot more work than the other ones, that's for sure. I think at the end of this installment I might just fall off my chair. Lol. Thanks, my friend!

Dead-Girls-Watch – Thanks. :-) I know…poor Evy, having to give him up like that. I'd make Immy's life a living hell. ;-)

Jessie-C – Thank you very much! :-) That's very kind of you! I hope to see more of your story soon…maybe tomorrow since you post pretty quick, eh? :-D

Deana – Thanks for the help and suggestions, you rule! Come on, who would rather be alone than have Neccy with them? ;-) Lol.

Marcher – You're too kind to say that. :-) Thanks, my friend, for always being there with my stories! :-) I heard the wind whisper somewhere the suggestion you might be writing sometime in the prolly past by now…hope to see more of Captain. :-D That story is awesome!

Marx – Man, now that gives me a thought. Someone needs to send Ardeth a bottle of Herbal Essences…like when I'm on the other side of the wall (or even in the same ROOM) while he uses it. ;-D Could you imagine how that would sound??? *faints* Thank you so much for your reviews and for the inspiration that started me on this. :-) And uh…well, don't worry…I have things for Jonny to do. :-O Speaking of inspiring…I hope Hereafter's somewhere on the horizon or I might snap and start whittling guns out of soap! Lol. ;-D Well, I might do that anyways for the novelty, but you know. :-D