Speak Softly
Another Step Closer To Darkness

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.

~~~~~~~

Outside the never-ending storm raged, as it had non-stop all the day before, today and up until this fine evening, and Jonathan sighed pleasantly, knowing that were he still in the palace, he would be out slaving away in it. Right now he could think of about three men who would be passing away the time by plotting away Imhotep's demise and the thought made him smile. Wistfully almost, as if some part of him missed it there. Oh, he wouldn't dare say he enjoyed his life as the king's slave. The bad far outweighed the good. But there had been some interesting times.

Well, times hadn't grown short of interest with his move—that was certain. Despite his initial impression of the place, these poor people did welcome him here for as long as he needed. They knew well the suffering of the people and as proven over the ages, those in need seemed to understand just how precious kindness could be. Even Layla had toned down on her snappish ways, which he definitely attributed to his charms. Hadn't smiled though. Jonathan sat there against the wall in the kitchen listening to the howling winds outside as her daughter absently dug through his bedraggled jacket's pocket, her expression growing disdainful when she found his small bottle of liquor.

"That's right," he agreed, snatching it back quickly before her mother came in and saw. She had given him a little talking-to when he had returned the other night with it in plain view in his hand. "Stuff's nasty. I don't honestly know why Rick makes me carry it for him, but you know friends." His blue eyes rolled quite dramatically and Sania giggled, returning to her search while he took a swig of the milk her mother had offered about ten minutes ago, before disappearing again into the depths of this sad little building. Jorin's men were still on the prowl, scouting for him and generally causing trouble along the way. Of course Jonathan wondered why these people stayed at all, but he guessed any port in a storm was definitely true of life in Egypt. There weren't many places to go.

Unbeknownst to him, Sania had gotten a hold of his old wallet and was now digging through it instead of his pocket. The missed feel of having his jacket being tugged came to his notice, however and he looked across the table as grimy, little hands opened it and rummaged around. Her dark eyes became thoughtful as she browsed through his pictures. Before he could stop her, Sania removed one from its little jacket and held it up questioningly.

Jonathan leaned over and took it with a smile, seeing which one it was. It was of he and Evy, taken before their first trip to Hamunaptra. She hugged her arms to herself and shook, a gesture that meant several things he had learned, from wanting a hug to liking something. In this case he supposed she might mean Evy was pretty. "That's Evy, or 'old mum' as I like to call her because of her bossiness. She's my little sister. A bit daft sometimes, but that's to be expected I suppose." He sighed and gave the picture back just as Layla came in.

Sania put the wallet down and got up from the table to grab her mom's skirt and tug. When the tired woman looked down, Sania handed her the photo and made a gesture he had never seen before, of rubbing her hand down her face. To his complete surprise, instead of saying something cynical or asking about it, Layla looked at it gently and then turned her eyes to his. "Your sister has a kind face," she said, handing the picture back.

"Oh, is that what that means?" he asked, slipping it back into his wallet and tucking the wallet back into his jacket. He leaned back in the chair and smiled up at Layla's brown eyes. "Yeah, she's a good old girl, too. Much better than I am, anyway."

Sitting down, the woman eyed him for a moment and may have spoke, but for Sania's insistent demand for attention. Looking her daughter over, then exhaling, she turned and Jonathan looked down at the honey colored table. She was beautiful and under normal circumstances he would have been gawking like an idiot, but for some reason he found it difficult to hold her gaze for very long. She doesn't deserve to be gawked at, he admitted to himself with a sigh. She wasn't like every other woman, or rather he wasn't like he was with every other woman. His charm was taking a while to get off the ground in easing her into confiding in him and the trouble was still beneath the surface of her every expression. He felt bad for her. "Sania wants to know what she was like."

Nodding and letting himself instead meet the child's watchful eyes, he smiled and replied, "She likes books. She's a very smart thing, too, if a bit clumsy sometimes. Can't cook worth a smile, though." He rubbed the back of his neck as Sania giggled. "I think you'd like her, Sanie. I sure do miss her."

Sania shrugged and spread her hands and Layla, with an oddly soft and curious expression, translated, "What happened to her?"

The same thing that happened to every pretty girl in Egypt who wasn't properly guarded. An evil man took her for evil purposes. Only Evy had been stolen by the evil man and Jonathan found his heart sinking again with that thought. Where was she now? What was she doing? "Evy's alive, thankfully. She's a slave."

At that Layla sat up a little straighter. "Evy? As in Evelyn…? Of course. Now I see. Evelyn Carnahan. That's why I should know your name." Her look of softness became hard and Jonathan cursed his tongue. Layla glared at him as if he had just slapped her. "A slave, huh? You mean Nefertiri, for Evelyn Carnahan is her true name, is it not? This woman who began this, who awakened Imhotep before! We know the story!"

Jonathan's eyes widened at that and he shook his head. "Yes, she woke him first time, but that's not what started all this," he defended his sister, wondering what on earth had made this woman so angry with her. If this were the general opinion of Evy she would be crushed.

"But if she hadn't awakened him…" Layla started to retort, but he wouldn't give her leave.

Sitting forward on his rickety chair, Jonathan again shook his head and pleaded with his eyes for her to understand. "No. It wasn't Evy who awakened him this time. A woman named Meela did and I'm pretty sure even if Evy hadn't the last time around, Meela still would have."

The tanned woman crossed her arms with a reawakened scowl. Beside her Sania covered her ears and looked sad, obviously not wanting to hear the argument. "If she hadn't awakened that monster the first time perhaps Ancksunamun would not have found him!" Layla snapped with hard eyes. "And now you come here asking for help, you who started this! Have you run away from the king? By Allah, you would sit here at our table and welcome those jackals on us without a second thought!"

"You have it wrong," he said softly, knowing there was no more use. Jonathan looked away and breathed out. "Look, I don't know what made this all happen, but I do know that my sister suffers. He might not starve her or leave her out in the cold, but he hurts her just the same. I'm sorry I came here." He stood up from his chair and offered a hand to the angry woman, who declined. Putting it down to his side, he exhaled, adding, "That's my cue. Good-bye, little one. Take care of your mum." His hand found Sania's hair as he headed towards the door.

A voice stopped him, small and sweet, and he turned back to mother and daughter when Sania whispered, "My sister's sad too."

At that small admission Layla covered her face, her shoulders trembling as inevitable tears started to fall, and Jonathan could not push himself out the door. Sania folded her arms onto the table and lay her head down, those little girl eyes so grown up as she gazed at the wall in acceptance of whatever fate her sister had befallen. His eyes met the dusty floor as he hovered between the door and two girls who needed someone to reach out to them. No matter what he tried telling himself, Jonathan could not leave. Instead his feet carried him to Layla's side and his hand wandered to her back to rub softly. "Is there anything I can do?"

The woman below shoved her chair back and slapped away his caring hands as she tried to hide her grief. "Just look after Sania. Make sure she gets to sleep on time," she told him, turning away and heading towards the front room.

"Where are you going?" he asked, worried for her. The last thing he felt she needed was to be alone somewhere, especially if she meant to go outside.

Layla ignored him until his hand coiled around her arm, and at that point she turned with a cool expression, snapping, "For a walk!"

Jonathan shook his head firmly at that. "It's too dangerous! You're going to get yourself bloody killed!"

The angry woman jerked her arm back and turned away, determined to have her way and there was little he could do against that. "I've walked before and will walk again! If you care for the child, watch over her. If not, go find your bedroll and give her to someone else."

He stopped in the doorway, watching her storm towards the secret hole in the wall, then disappear. What could he have said? There seemed to be little to no reaching that woman's heart and while it saddened him, it also made him a bit angry. Little Sania sure didn't need to have the responsibility of strength thrust onto her little six-year-old shoulders, but it seemed to him that it already had. It was hard even for grown-ups in this world. There had to be a way to reach her, to show her there were things worth fighting for and hoping for. But how?

These things plagued him, but the more immediate concern right now was her safety. Not three feet away sat thirteen-year-old Kaysaan on his bedroll and Jonathan grunted, deciding he had work for the crafty kid. "Hey, Kay, my good son," he said, nodding him over when the boy looked up. "You were telling me yesterday how good you were at tracking. What do you say you prove it out of the goodness of your heart, huh?"

The boy rolled his dark eyes, that brown, tousled hair shaking as he sulked a little, but not much could be put over on Carnahan. The boy was generally a good one, even if he could be a scheming little thief. Rubbing his hands together and weighing how much Jonathan needed this done by the stance he took, Kaysaan wiggled his nose, then shrugged. "Whatcha need, old man?"

Every once in a great while Evy would bat him for calling her 'old mum' and now he was beginning to understand why. With a roll of his own blue eyes, Jonathan motioned towards the exit and said, "Go keep an eye on Layla, will you? Don't intrude, just watch, if you would." The boy nodded and began towards the door and would have made it, but for the split second choice his elder made. Jonathan whipped his hand out, pulled the kid close and whispered, "Oh, and if you get the chance, go get me a bottle of scotch from Aladdin, okay? I'll let you have some when Layla's not looking." He shoved his hand into his pocket, grabbed some cash and gave it to Kay.

Instantly Kaysaan's eyes brightened at the prospect and out he went into the storm, ready for liquor. Jonathan chuckled to himself, reminded of when he was twelve and his uncle had gifted him with a tiny swig of the vilest stuff on earth—a liquor old Lindleigh had affectionately called 'Elswyth, put me out' because that was how he had called for it for twenty years until his wife died and after that the phrase had stuck. The vodka had tasted pretty unsavory to such a young mouth, but the time spent was nice, listening to the old man talk about his father's travels. That brought a sigh as he moved himself back into the kitchen to find a crying little girl.

Pulling out a chair to sit, Jonathan gazed down and offered arms to her when she peered at him wantingly, and considered if it wouldn't just be wise to offer her some of the old Elswyth too.

~~~~~~~

Tiny lace sprinkles from stars that would never grace the night sky again settled on the window. Her fingers touched the pane as if she could somehow feel the soft flakes from inside the warmth of the car. Beyond the window the vision was barren and devoid of color, whether day or night. Now in the dark it was little more than a field of endless black, offering only the faintest glow of Eternal Night's reflection of the atmosphere above. When morning came it would be dull and gray, with only memories of burnt and forgotten homes and towns.

Egypt was sick and suffering. England was dead. Not a soul would be found for countless miles. It was a place of near exile, for only the most desperate person seeking solitude or death would make this wasteland their home. Winter never ended here, nor in the countries surrounding. The resistance had been fierce and in punishment Imhotep unleashed his magery, creating a place opposite of his home country where he could enjoy that which he had never seen before.

And in making this place so harsh and undesirable, he had created the perfect haven. His palace in Egypt was grand and its very appearance spoke evil into the heart and suggested one should tread lightly. But contrary to what one might expect, that was not Imhotep's taste. Not directly. He knew what robes to wear to invoke fear and he knew how to attract as well. His castle here in England had been one the few buildings left alone and refurbished to suit his needs.

His tastes were remarkably warm and sensual, rich in colors of gold and burgundy. It was grand and had a breath of autumn. A very pleasant effect after seeing the frozen starkness of the outside. Evy mourned what had been done to her country, but even still returning was like coming home—a changed home, but home. She could remember her childhood here, Christmases spent by the fire with Jonathan sneaking a peek at his gifts. Those thoughts were lovely and brought a smile to her lips, but even they were not untainted. If she lingered too long he would come there too, waiting in the shadows to take her away.

Imhotep slept beside her, his head leaned back against the seat and his arms folded across his stomach. He almost looked normal, sitting there in his warm wool coat, appearing vulnerable and mortal. She often wondered why he slept at all, but even still this seemed different. Him sleeping in a bed to pass away the hours was one thing, him sleeping in the car was quite another. They had talked peacefully for a while, then quieted to their own thoughts, Evelyn turning towards the window. When she turned back she had found him as he was now and tried tentative, gentle shaking to rouse him, but he did not stir.

His face appeared troubled as she looked on him now and she wondered what dreams were visiting his rest. Waking up with him in bed with her had been startling. Never had they actually slept in the same bed. He had always left her alone after the handful of times they had been together and she preferred it that way. On the boat she had awakened slowly, letting the freshness of light bathe her in its splendor—until that was, she had noticed something. Warmth on her hip.

Evelyn had opened her eyes expecting to find his dark ones boring into her, willing her to awaken so he could take advantage of her, but instead her vision had met eyes closed in slumber, his breathing regular. Sometime in the night he had come in, touched her there and had fallen asleep. Why, she didn't know and didn't want to know. Her fear for was when he would awaken.

And yet even then he did not try to have her. Evy had moved to get out of bed and escape to her changing room, but as soon as she backed away his hand dropped, bringing him back to consciousness. Imhotep opened his brown eyes with a gentle expression, withdrawing his proximity. Her fears had proven groundless. He had simply gotten up and left her alone without a word. Yet she almost wished he would have taken her. That she knew how to handle. This other side of him she did not.

Evy exhaled and gazed down at him with an absent mind, almost missing the change until it had fully taken place. The sleeping king was slow to open his eyes, as if he weren't completely returned to this world. But when he did, her breathing caught and her attention came back. What was going on in his thoughts she couldn't tell as he kept her in thrall with a soft gaze that made her shiver in fear.

She didn't even realize his hand had made a path up her arm until he started rubbing her shoulder. Then suddenly those enriched eyes closed and his mouth pressed against hers, asking to be allowed entrance. Asking, not demanding. It caught her off guard and she gave in, letting him find comfort from his nightmare.

He was shaking, she discovered. Her hand fell against his strong shoulder as he pulled her closer and she felt him tremble. Evy's head spun, for this was different from the usual, careless fervor. It was deep and gentle and frightening, to say the least. Why it should be so remarkable, she didn't know, but without meaning to she whimpered softly in need to get away. And he gave that to her almost immediately afterwards.

The warmth of his mouth left hers, but he kept her close, looking her face over in the darkness. The back of his fingers brushed gently down what she was certain was a very red cheek. "I am sorry," he breathed, his expression almost elsewhere, as if he were visiting a memory instead of speaking with her. "I should not have. I am sorry." She might have thought back and heard another voice in her mind echoing that very phrase, but he continued before her memory could call the sound back. "Will you hate me, even as I try to atone?"

Something about the question seemed important, but fear gnawed at her hope that he could ever stop hurting her and her loved ones. "I want to hate you!" she hissed truthfully, pulling herself as far away from him as she could. A few tears raced down her cheeks, unbidden. "You've done so much to me. You took everything. You took…everything." Evy curled her arms around herself and wiped her cheeks.

Imhotep did not recoil from her rejection as another man might. Rick would have, she knew. She wasn't too sure about Ardeth. But the king never did. He presumably did not care, either that or knew better than to mourn that which he deserved. His hand found her back, rubbing soft circles as he exhaled and gazed out his window.

Evy leaned back into his arm, allowing him to comfort her. His patience seemed thicker than usual, even more than the peace before Ardeth and she supposed to try it would be foolish. She wanted to hate him forever and endlessly, but sometimes it wasn't easy. By no means did she like who this man was or bear him any love, but his spark of humanity kept things gray. She pitied him for his pain. "Remember…remember that time Jonathan was on about the head stonecutter, waving his arms and just generally being careless, when he flung his hand into your water cup, causing you to spill it all over yourself?" she asked in a hushed voice. Not looking away from the window, Imhotep nodded and she brushed her hair behind her ear. Her eyes hit the black seat across from hers.

She allowed herself a tired smile in the shadows. "The expression you gave him was so unbelievably angry. I honestly thought you were going to kill him. He looked positively wretched, trying to clean you off and babbling about being an excellent worker and you couldn't live without his services. You didn't kill him, though. I remember standing up from my chair to race over and beg your forgiveness for him. But you beat me to it, shoving him away with this disgusted growl that faded as soon as your back was turned." Her eyes grew distant. "He didn't see you smile as you headed from the room to change, but I did. The irritation was still there, but you couldn't help but find his antics amusing."

Imhotep faced her now with a thoughtful expression as she turned back gravely. "That's why I can't hate you. Not fully. I despise what you do and the depths you allow yourself to sink to, but, Imhotep, I can't help but remember you giving me that same exasperated smile when Nefertiri hadn't remembered all of the Hebrew you were trying to teach her." Beneath the curse there was still a human.

He cringed at that particular memory, his handsome features graced by a smile. "What was it you said after I called you a foolish day-dreamer? You said I was a 'stoic, self-righteous, old man,' but you got the Hebrew words mixed and called me a woman?" Imhotep laughed and shook his head. "And now my little student is the master of four languages and she speaks them all fluently. Perhaps one day I shall teach you the remaining languages of old and you may teach me your English and Arabic."

"Perhaps," she echoed, exhaling as he rubbed her back again. Evy again brushed through her hair as things returned back to the matter at hand. She had stopped asking herself where Ardeth was last night when it hit her like a ton of bricks. She was going to marry Imhotep and live as his queen. Of course she had understood that from the moment she agreed, but his casual talk of a wedding dress had startled her into reality. "Imhotep, please. Please don't pretend to care out of some manipulation. You have every advantage right now, I freely admit. I want to hate you, but I feel…I hurt for the relationship that was lost. I hurt for the man inside you that's being smothered by the curse. You say you want to atone and I want to believe you. But if you turn on me again…" She trailed off, knowing that last was inevitable. He would at some point become that monster again, change or no. It was his nature.

But for now peace could be peace. Imhotep grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, closing his eyes against the atmosphere washing over the car. It was timid hope…on both their parts, perhaps. "I will not turn on you, Nefertiri. I only ask for the same. If you refuse forgiveness, then do it openly now. Do not promise it and then betray me later. For yours is not the only heart that mourns. We can be friends once more."

Evy nodded softly, offering him a smile in the dimness. "We can be friends."

Those shadowy eyes looked her over again, but this time not in lust as usual. They were pleased, but openly welcoming. It made her stomach hurt. She knew compassion in any case was the right thing, but this path wasn't as clear as the others she had traveled. There were trees and twists and turns that obscured the destination from her sight.

Evy swallowed when he looked down from her and asked in a husky, pleading voice, "May I sleep in your bed this night? My rest is troubled and I do not wish to be alone."

~~~~~~~

The morning was softly lit and lonely, the air humid and the sky hopelessly foggy. Two companions full of loathing trudged along in silence, giving way for troubled thoughts—though to his credit, Ardeth did try to distract himself with half-hearted contemplation of meaningless things. Right now he was wondering to himself just how thick Eternal Sorrow was, whether or not planes could penetrate it and if it would disappear once Imhotep were defeated. He fervently prayed so.

How in two years had Imhotep managed to damage this land so greatly? Two years could seem a long time, but in the grand scheme of things it really was nothing more than a moment. Yet in that time he had brought poverty and suffering to his people, not to mention what may have happened outside of Egypt's borders. The land was marred, for without doubt just as Evelyn had said, there had been not one minute where the sun could freely touch the earth. Did Imhotep not realize that without the sun, the plants would fail? Or even if they didn't die out in the sickly light offered, they would not thrive. No wonder his people starved.

Which lead Ardeth back to his troubled thoughts. He was to defeat Imhotep, but what of after? Who would pick up the broken pieces and mend this world? Had Imhotep killed the high-ranking officials? Doubtlessly there was not a form of government left in the whole of Egypt that once matched that which was before the terrible priest. This left the possibility of ruthless others setting up their own governments, forcing the people of Egypt into no better a situation than if he were to leave Imhotep to rule.

And not all bodies of society fail when their kings are killed. If Ardeth managed to kill the priest, what would be left behind? His underlings? The magery and jackals? Beside him the necromancer snorted, his arms tucked in his ragged robes and those ever-gazing eyes trained ahead. "Do you just now consider these things? Do you just now realize how hopeless this battle really is?"

Ardeth wrapped the cloak of Osiris around him in the chill. "I have considered them."

"Yes," Necromancer agreed, rummaging through his mind again. "As you lay on the sand dying. I see it now, Chosen." Those foul lips curved into a soft smile. "You were thankful it was over. The great burden lifted from your shoulders. And in that you felt shame."

The Med-Jai concealed his irritation over that statement fruitlessly and replied, "I am a man, not a machine. I will do whatever I must and in that there is honor, for I do not back down from duty as some do." His other thoughts, the accusations that had been forming in the back of his mind, he did not conceal.

Necromancer hissed darkly at the unsaid things he was hearing from within the mind he was violating. Those pallid hands curled—a sure sign the creature was now agitated instead of amused. "Put words to what you are thinking, Ardeth Bay! Be man enough to accuse me outside of the confines of that oh-so-precious heart of yours!"

That Ardeth fully intended. He did not have the luxury of stealing this being's thoughts, but if his hope was correct, Necromancer was likely seething in a more personal way than he let on. "You were a good man, Sajul. Of that I make no argument. But in your words I see what I missed when we were both alive. What you did was for you, not others. You did great things for our people, but now I realize just how much you did not do. You were selfish." Ardeth inhaled deeply and waved a hand before his growling friend could speak.

"We are all selfish, Sajul. I am not immune to it. I felt relief that the burden had been lifted. But I was also saddened, because I knew these people could suffer for that. You did what you had to when we lived. But not without repayment. I think this thing you have become is not as much born from what Imhotep did to you, as much as it is an amplification of what you were." A major amplification, to Sajul's credit, but he could see little things in his past that made this new creature not all that hard to understand. Ardeth turned his head to get his answer, hoping he had shocked some of the old Sajul back into this thing's miserable mentality.

The reply was harsher than he had counted on. "How dare you!" Sajul screamed at him through blind rage. The creature stopped in the wet sand and stretched hands with curled fingers. Bay backed away, but Necromancer was too livid and too quick.

Sajul attacked, rushing his former-friend with inhuman claws extended. Unprepared for such ferocity, Ardeth fell back onto the ground and gasped as the creature dove onto him. With no weapon handy the fight was on Necromancer's side as the creature slashed at his arms, bared when the sleeves of his robe slid down. Both man and monster cried out as Ardeth's blood was spilled by treachery again, but the pain did not deter Sajul. "How dare you make that accusation? You do not know what happened after your death! You do not know what Arya and I did, what was suffered, or how I gave myself up for her! Selfish, was I? Unwilling to give without compensation? For love I suffer this hell! Curse you, Ardeth Bay!"

"I am sorry, my friend," Ardeth tried to say amidst the blows being rained on him. His fervent hope had been that there was something of Sajul left and now the proof came to the surface inside the rage of Necromancer.

But whatever was left of his friend could not triumph over the evil surrounding. Gripping the creature's wrists did little to hold back the greater strength and when Necromancer pulled his hands away he coiled those cold, dead fingers around Ardeth's throat. His claws dug into the skin almost to the point of drawing blood as he rasped, "Would you have had them make you king, Ardeth? Would you have led them from the darkness after Imhotep's defeat?" He laughed and squeezed tighter, blocking precious air and invoking a well of panic in his captive. "The great evil here is uncontrollable. There are things in this world that will not die away with the priest, as you shall. You will never enjoy a future! Evelyn will suffer because of your love and even if you and the priest pass on from this world, the victory will never be complete because you are only one man against legions! Let me kill you, Ardeth! Accept it!"

Ardeth batted dizzily at the man above, trying to free himself from the bruising grip that was strangling him. Necromancer's eyes glinted as he savored his friend's suffering, but just as the Med-Jai thought he would fall unconscious, he was let go. Laughing, the dead thing yanked himself up from the sand and ignored his companion's breathless coughing. "Live, Ardeth. And fail anyway."

Gasping with closed eyes, Bay lay there a moment longer as the other stalked away, that amused hiss fading with separation. He couldn't even think past the grateful feeling of drawing breath again. His throat throbbed where Necromancer's hands had been and his arms stung. "But the healing would begin," he whispered, or thought or both, knowing hope had to start somewhere. His purpose was not in vain. Necromancer ignored his determination.

"Shall we rest more? Lose more valuable time while the pharaoh tempts your woman?" he drawled sarcastically, not bothering to face his former-friend.

They couldn't rest. Ardeth felt a little queasy and could have stood a few moments more, but he was in a land where mercy did not exist. His hand still protectively near his neck, Bay stood up and joined in silence. He had nothing more to say to this monster and looked forward to being rid of him as soon as this partnership was complete.

As it was, the trip ended not long after. Hidden by hilly dunes, they did not see the Temple of Osiris until they were nearly upon it. Necromancer stopped him with a hand to his shoulder as those dark eyes staked out their goal. "Draw your hood and say little, and keep your bleeding out of sight!" Ardeth glanced down at his aching arms and fought back a retort on his companion's self control. Necromancer ignored his thoughts. "Do not ask entry, simply take it. I will feign illness and when asked for your purpose, you will answer that you have come to bring me to the care of the priests, for I am sick with the plague. That should be sufficient until we reach the catacombs. Follow my lead and I will take you there."

"Do you know the way through this temple?" Ardeth asked, taking his knife and hiding it within the sleeve of his robe.

Necromancer nodded with grave eyes and he wondered idly what was haunting his former-friend. "This was where Imhotep cursed me," he replied in low tones, his expression hardening again. His papery hand darted out towards Ardeth, ripping his hood up, before he stalked off towards the temple.

Ardeth rolled his eyes and exhaled deeply, straightening the hood and running to catch up. The temple was obsidian like the palace: grand and sleek, but scaled down. Surprisingly there were no guards and all was silent, save for the whispering of the breeze. As they ascended the stairs Ardeth couldn't help but feel anxious. It was as if something were warning him against this, but whether or not that was true made little difference. He could not turn back now.

The great silver doors above proclaimed the blessings of Osiris upon the servants of Pharaoh with finely chiseled hieroglyphs. Necromancer motioned to the handle with a sweeping hand and Ardeth lowered his head, obeying the silent command. The door was not locked and creaked metallically when opened. Sajul pushed his arm into his hand, expecting to be led.

~~~~~~~

Disclaimer: No infringement intended. Ahamad, Nashean, Mayadeh, Sajul/Necromancer, Arya, Layla, Sania, Reyhanen and Kaysaan (and a few less significant originals) belong to me.

A/N: I almost didn't include Ardeth in this chapter, was going to make the next chapter all Ardeth, but I chickened out, so Jonny's second part'll have to feature next chapter. ;-) It still has a fairly good chunk of our Med-Jai hottie, though. :-D

To Reviewers:

Marcher – Yikes! Sorry to hear you had trouble! Lol. Silly world. Nothing's reliable, eh? I'm glad you enjoyed the Rick scene, as a Rick fan I'm honored you liked it. :-D Hehehe…yeah, gotta give Neccy some irritation too, for all the spreads around. Thanks!

Mommints – Thank you much! I try to give Neccy good depth and I'm glad it stands out. :-) And yes, I aim to make people both love and hate the characters…well, the baddies. Wouldn't due to have anyone hating Ardeth, if that were possible. ;-) Thanks a bunch!

Marxie – Thankie…yes, I shall reveal all in time…muahahaha. Your questions would have me revealing it all in short order, so I can't answer! :-D Thankya for your compliments on Neccy and how I'm dealing with him. Like I said, I wanna be good with the depth on him. :-) And I'm glad people like the dreams as well, those are fun to write. Poor Ardeth might just have to see some scary stuff though. :-O As for Evy, I was thinking more she was manipulating Rick cause he didn't wanna go…but ack! You're right! Doh on me! :-O I guess I tend to think of her personality as it was in TMR. But one thing, you say otherwise they've been spot-on…that means a whole heap to me because I've been thinking sometimes my characterizations might be way off. ;-) Or offish, anyway. Thanks for your compliments and suggestions. :-)

Lula – Well, as for Neccy's hate…I mean think if you did all the same things that so and so down the block did and everyone thought he was a saint and didn't pay you a lick of thanks for what you did. He's just more resentful towards Ardeth's existence I think, than say, thinking Ardeth did anything. If anything he's angry at Ardeth for being so darn perfect. ;-D And anyway, Sajul is kinda selfish anyway, which I'll get into a bit next chapter. But I'm glad he makes you think two ways…cause god knows humans aren't always rational. ;-D Thanks muchly! And thanks for compliments on Rey, I'm glad she is well received as well. She's quite the instigator. ;-D She'll be around for a while…so I hope she isn't irritating anyone! :-O Lol. Thanks muchly!

Dead-Girls-Watch – Thankie, thankie, my friend! I'm glad you liked Rey…I'm always fearful of introducing self-made characters and it makes me less so when people mention a like towards them. :-) You rock!

Deana – Thanks, my bud! I'm glad you liked and I'll get into more of Arya and Sajul's past soon, and the pain of why Sajul's so darn angry with our hottie. :-D Thanks a bunch!