Speak Softly
Foreshadowing

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 afternoon passed away into evening almost deceptively unobtrusive. The thin, dark-skinned mercenary fixed him with a glare across the table they were seated at in a forgotten little bread shop in town. His air bespoke the usual—shady, willing to do anything for profit, cowardly. He pointed a finger with cool, black eyes and shook his head with faltering determination "You don't know that boss of mine. I tell you where she went and I'm liable to get shot. He's got these beady eyes, you know? Cold and black, that stare you right through. He'll know all right that I've helped you."

The men in Layla's little hideaway were true to what little Kaysaan had said they would be. None would go to Jorin's and help Layla, despite everything she had done for them. This woman had cooked, cleaned, took care of the children and her disappearance was met with no appreciation, and some even praised that she would now be shown her place. Jonathan had surprised even himself when he punched Mahdi for making a crass joke on how she would be shown. The big Arab would have probably given him a nice little beating afterwards, too, if it hadn't been for Esam.

After evading that little scuffle Jonathan had been told to leave and been given care of Sania and Kaysaan for their like of him, too boot. Cold people lived in that little hovel, colder than he would have imagined at first. They didn't care one way or another, not about Layla, the children or each other. The only bit of help Esam had offered was to convey a message to one of the mercenaries he played with, telling him that Jonathan would be here at the forgotten bake shop and needed some help. If the mercenary showed, he showed. If not, Esam had informed him rather explicitly that nothing else would be done.

The black man leaned back in his wooden chair, took a long, impatient breath and fixed an eye on the fidgeting Kaysaan. "I can't say as I would have come, either, if Esam hadn't have given me back my losses just to hear you out."

Jonathan, playing it cool, leaned back as well and indulged in the other man's little slip. "Where she went, you say? So, she's not at Jorin's little hideout?"

The mercenary pursed his lips and shook his head a little smartly. "All right. You get that one for free, but I'm not telling you any more! People don't have a habit of staying alive if they interfere with Jorin."

Drastic measures were going to have to be taken to get any information out of this one. Oh, he wanted to tell Jonathan right enough. Otherwise he would be walking out the door right now. But he was waiting, his thoughts driving towards a certain little incentive to give the information he was desperately trying to keep locked in that little mind of his. Jonathan folded his hands on the table, smiled and gave Sania a little glance. Money, he didn't have enough of, nor gold or water. But what could not be bought could be taken by force if one had the correct arsenal at their fingertips.

In the shadowy corner the little six-year-old girl began to pout, turning those devastating brown eyes upon their victim as her little bottom lip expanded. Carnahan had to give her credit, too, for the quivering effect and the moisture in her eyes. Naturally some of this was real, he knew, real fear for her mother's life, but Sania was one sharp little cookie if he said so himself. She knew when to keep cool and when to play the adults around her for all they were worth. And this man seemed pliable enough.

The dark man narrowed his brow and looked at the little girl uncomfortably and straightened in his chair. Jonathan disguised a grin when he glanced in his direction, then looked again at the child. "L-look, little girl, I can sympathize with you. I really can. But, see… Did I mention Jorin's got this nasty little goatee? Makes him look like the devil! So you can appreciate what I'm risking just by being here."

Kay drummed his fingers on the table and looked decidedly downcast himself. "Yeah, same thing you risk by not telling your boss about Esam's little hideout, huh?"

Jonathan allowed himself a private little grin and thought, That's a good lad. The dark man shook his finger again. "Now, that's not fair! After all, I am getting paid. A man's gotta earn a living somehow and Jorin's cheap!"

With a subtle little gesture prearranged for if the occasion called for it, Jonathan beckoned Sania to the next part in her role and the girl was flawless. Her steps were perfectly tiny, adorable really, and her eyes big as she moved and when she reached the mercenary, he looked as if a snake approached. A delicate little hand found his arm and Sania opened her mouth to grace them with her ever-so-rare voice. "But my muma needs me." Jonathan winced at the effect.

"Bloody hell," the dark man exhaled, giving Jonathan a death glare. "You're a swindler, plain and simple. Can't even pay a man properly for the information he's got, and instead you turn this on me! By rights I oughta tell Jorin I saw you here, 'cause he's looking for a man that fits your description." He looked down again at the pouting little child that was trying to find a way into his lap and unconsciously held his arms out. "You really wanna know, kid? You really gotta know?"

Sania chewed nervously on her fingernail, Jonathan liked to think that was for effect, and nodded her head twice. The mercenary sighed. "All right, you little monster. I'll tell you, but you aren't gonna like it. Your mum's been taken to the palace with a shipment of female slaves." His attention focused on Jonathan. "Look, I don't know what that bald bastard does with his girls, I mean we aren't told anything of that sort, but a man like him takes what he wants."

Jonathan shook his head. "He don't…he has, but not usually. They were all girls, you say? How many?"

"Three of 'em, all in their prime."

Imhotep had taken a few pretty girls as concubines rightly enough, but it wasn't the norm after Evy. Even still, it was possible, entirely possible that Layla could be chosen for such a thing. She was beautiful and the priest liked his women dark-haired. But there were many girls at the palace that served as maids or cooks that Jonathan assumed hadn't been officially taken as Imhotep's property. He frowned, knowing that might not mean anything. Even if she wasn't a slave to Imhotep himself, there were plenty of human guards that the king had to keep happy. His fingers curled at that thought. "Right," he breathed, fixing the man with a firm expression. "One more question and you can go."

The mercenary eased Sania off his lap and sat on the edge of his chair, ready to leave quickly. "Can't stop beating a horse when it's down, can you? You know he's probably got men watching this place."

Jonathan shook his head. "All I want to know is where Naseera is. She's Sanie's big sister, about eight now, taken last year. Same look about her."

"Eight-year-old girl," the dark man breathed in thought. "Jorin don't usually sell kids unless they're to rich people like that Hughes fellow he's been stalking. He might have sold her to the palace, might not. I don't remember and that's not a lie."

Sania stepped away from the dirty table and Carnahan could tell this wasn't any act. He sighed and looked the other man over, sizing him up for the truth. In truth he himself couldn't rightly remember if there had been children at the palace or not. Surely there must have been. Shaking his head, he held out his hand. "Thanks for the help. You've done a fine thing, my good man."

The mercenary took his hand, shook it and stood with a dirty look on his face. "Yes, well, to your health and if I get shot, I'm going to haunt you."

Jonathan leaned back in his chair and watched the man walk through the dusty kitchen into the storefront. Kay puckered his lips and looked to him expectantly. "To the palace, old man?" Carnahan rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Kay, to the palace. I'm gonna run you back by Esam's and see if he won't at least watch you until I can get back." The boy frowned, but Sania offered a bigger display of distaste for that idea.

Running to Jonathan, she firmly latched onto his waist and shook her head, causing him to sigh. Kaysaan gave him a smile. "We ain't got anywhere else to go, old man. Take us with you, or we'll follow and you know Esam won't care to stop us even if he did agree to let us stay there."

They had him there and he knew it. The two cunning little beasts that had worked with him to get this far were now taking advantage of him. Petting Sania's shoulders Jonathan looked down into two pleading eyes and for the first time in his life he wondered what being a dad might have been like. "We three make a good team, don't we? We sure got the best of him, huh?" Sania nodded, but the voice was altogether different than the one she had used on the mercenary.

"Did you? Might I ask how?"

A chill spread through Jonathan at the numerous fears that passed through him while he turned. At the back door stood a single man in a polished suit with his hair tied back, dark penetrating eyes and a business-like air about him. He stepped into the dust and behind him followed two very large men. The mercenary had been right. That little goatee and his cold confidence made him appear devilish.

Jonathan got to his feet and pushed Sania behind him protectively. It didn't even occur to him to say anything else. "I'll do anything, just don't hurt the kids. I'll work off their worth to sell, anything. Just let them be."

A smile spread across the man's face, this man he assumed to be the Jorin himself by description and atmosphere. "I'm not here to hurt anyone, Mr. Carnahan. These look to be very charming children and because of who you are, I will let you keep them if that's your wish."

"W-who I am?"

Jorin nodded once and stopped a foot away from Jonathan, looking him up and down. "You are the brother of Nefertiri, aren't you? How fortuitous."

~~~~~~~

It would easily become the single most devastating piece of insight Ardeth would receive of his enemy. Pacing the sand in Imhotep's robes, commanding Imhotep's troops and waiting for his news was nothing if not intense. The king was nervous this night, as if some strange foresight granted him the knowledge that something was coming, be it battle or grief. One possibility stood out apart from all others of what the night would tell him.

The Scorpion King had kidnapped Ancksunamun and Ardeth knew what her fate had been. Evelyn had told him that she had been killed with nothing left to resurrect. He knew also that he was dreaming of the night Imhotep had received that overwhelming knowledge. It was all over the air, screaming at what soul Imhotep had left. It was painful and pitiful and threatened the image of the monster Ardeth had built within his mind of this man.

The creature was so terribly, horribly lonely right now. So terrified that his love was hurting or gone again from his grasp and after three thousand years of darkness he was not sure what having his light ripped away again would do to him. Ardeth had known Imhotep's infatuation with this woman was great, but somehow he had never conceived of it being so intense, so important to sustaining his humanity. This great love was his driving force; it was what transformed him into this evil being and what kept him from totally giving over to it. Having what was his taken away would enrage Imhotep, but it was so much more. For all his pride, for all his evil and fury, he was still clinging to something good inside. He could genuinely hurt for Ancksunamun and fear for her and mourn.

There was a fire lit in the middle of camp and sitting by it was Evy and her brother. Jonathan slept, but Evelyn was watching him with a worried look on her face, as if she too knew something bad was on the horizon. If only he could tell her who was inside this monster's mind. If only she could comfort him from this and tell him Imhotep was nothing more than a beast. Ardeth was afraid of what would happen when the news came, for if Imhotep were this tense now… This was something he did not want to know. Imhotep had to die, had to be defeated and there was no question in his mind about the fact of that matter. He shouldn't have to know this or suffer the ups and downs, the certainties and doubts. He shouldn't have to understand this man. Killing was easy when you faced a foe you knew to be cowardly, evil and cruel. But when you knew they were forced into it because of love and a curse the lines between black and white began to bleed into one another.

It angered him that he would grieve this monster. Ardeth looked into the night sky and found the beautiful moon and even that brought him pain for his enemy. Ancksunamun would often gaze at it and speak of its beauty to Imhotep. The stars above somehow reflected in her eyes sometimes. Dark time was their time. It always had been.

And it would be never again and Ardeth guessed this was the real reason Imhotep had hidden the sky. Dark time was a cursed time now. In his immortality he had been strengthened physically. His sight had improved to a degree and his sense of smell and hearing; even his touch revealed more than it had in mortality. Hunting senses sharpened to forge the perfect monster. The perfect beast to carry out evil. These heightened senses were a gift, but as well a curse. For he had seen the soldier on horseback heading towards camp before any other had. He had sensed fear when he entered the grounds and could now hear him speaking with it to one of the captains.

His heart sank. 'He's going to be angry' he said, and, 'I'm not giving this to him. Send someone else.' They knew him very well. His rage was already building and his thirst for blood growing at what he knew would come. The gods were punishing him. Why else would they take her away at every turn? Ardeth balled his fists and tried to calm himself, knowing that if his slaves saw him explode they would do anything—even die—to escape him and aiding his quest.

And with his sensitive hearing he heard them come to a decision. "Give it to the woman. Let her taste his anger," the lieutenant suggested and Imhotep turned away when the elder glanced in his direction. How dare they cower from him and send his enemy with this type of news? Least of all did he want Nefertiri to tell him. If she smiled, if she gave him one look of triumph or indicated in any way that he and Ancksunamun deserved this… Ardeth shuddered back from the implications of the priest's deadly, murderous thoughts.

"I bloody well will not!" Evy was saying, which won her a slap from the angry captain. The sound filled him with more rage, for delaying this only made his feelings that more desperate. Oh, how Imhotep didn't want to know, as much as Ardeth did not want to live this moment bearing down on him. Imhotep begged Osiris inwardly to hide the truth from him. But it was not to be.

Sniffling and timid, Evelyn approached and startled when he whipped around with a glare Ardeth could not control, hotter than hell's depths. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the captain and lieutenant backing away from the fire. It mattered not. Imhotep would find them and kill them both for their stupidity and cowardice.

It made Ardeth both pained and proud to see her like this, so afraid, but so strong. She dared to approach evil with bad news; every step she took was difficult and halting, but she made it somehow before him. "I'm s-supposed to…to give this to you," she stammered, holding up a plain box with a paper attached. Evy jumped when he snatched it away, and tried to back off, but his hand wrapped around her wrist to prevent her escape. He was going to need an outlet for his anger and he could think of no better person to express it upon.

Ardeth knew now a new fear when walking the path of Imhotep. In all his pain of knowing the spark of goodness inside Imhotep he had forgotten the blackness that had all but quenched that spark out. He had to remind himself that Evelyn had lived through this. She was alive in England waiting for him. Imhotep's trembling fingers peeled apart the folded paper and he swallowed when he looked at the words written in symbols older than his own written language.

Imhotep, Lord of the Dead

I laugh at that title. I laugh at you, little priest. You awakened me expecting to defeat me. Well, what are you waiting for? I have been waiting for you to make your petty threats a reality for months now. Whelp of Osiris, do you not understand what you face? I am far older than you and have the power of Anubis at my control. What were you thinking? Your little Hom-Dai cannot compete with my power.

When I learned of the story between you and Ancksunamun, I admit I was intrigued. I knew love once as well. Of course that did not make me any more merciful when it came to killing your little pretty, but it was an entertaining account. I made her recite to me your story from the time she met you, to the dark corners you where took her and on up until that night you killed your king while I ravished her. Quite a high, don't you think? Such tragic words coming from a lovely, trembling mouth. Oh, I know you're angered by this, High Priest. Well, rest assured she is no longer in pain. Do you know what the curse of Anubis does to a man? Do you know what perversions he craves because of the blackness of the god? Ancksunamun found out. And, Imhotep, I plan on telling you in great detail. I'm a generous man, you see. I share.

She has a marvelous scream. Sorry, had a marvelous scream. I think I'll miss hearing it. Ah, but the story. I've had this letter copied just so I can read the gory tale again when I'm in need of entertaining. It all started with a beating…

Ardeth's eyes hit every terrible letter. Every frightening detail of what Ancksunamun had suffered at the hands of a being that made Imhotep look like a spoiled child. The sarcasm bleeding through every sentence, the sheer apathy towards life…it frightened him. It made him thankful Imhotep had emerged the victor.

Her bones had been broken, her skin sliced slowly and held up for her eyes to behold. Countless men, including the Scorpion King himself, had used her body for pleasure and pain. She had been beaten and burned and poisoned, forced to cut her own flesh away at the threat of more abuse. The sickening things in this letter made Ardeth's stomach tighten without need of Imhotep's emotion to back it up. If Evelyn had suffered these things he would have lost himself to rage and vengeance. Again this priest-king was not so hard to understand.

Imhotep stared at the letter blankly, in shock as his senses soaked it in, his mind unable to refrain from picturing her face as it might have been in torment. Ardeth could feel the wind caressing his skin, could hear the laughter of men from the camp and sense fear coming from Evy, but the priest's emotions had fled, a violent current held back by a cracking dam. But it would come, it would hit him like a desert whirlwind, Ardeth knew. It was only a matter of time.

The Med-Jai swallowed and let the letter flutter to the ground and away, then almost reverently opened the box that came with it. The Scorpion King's little token of esteem. When Imhotep's eyes hit the finger of his beloved something clicked inside and the tide began leaking into the openness of his heart. The box clattered to the sand as well, spilling its contents as tears filled his eyes. No, he shouldn't have to know this. It was too much, too terrible. He thanked God over and over within himself that Evelyn had not been captured by the Scorpion King, but knew also what it would have felt like if she had.

Desperately needing to find something else to fill him the priest moved his wet eyes down to Evy, looking for that sign of triumph, that image of her being glad his goal had been thwarted. But there was none of that. Her eyes were wide and frightened, yes, but compassionate. Pitying. Instead of fighting to get away she touched his hand softly and said, "Imhotep…"

He had to get away from her, from the eyes watching him. His anger was so great right now he felt he could very well end every life surrounding him, but that would end also his chance at victory and though a part of him did not care anymore, something rational inside knew it would only cause him more grief. His need to kill the Scorpion King had just increased severely. Blood would flow as a river before the month was out.

So he shoved her. Hard. Evelyn hit the sand with a yelp and though Ardeth wanted to help her, he couldn't. He knew that if he stayed Imhotep's emotions would boil over and he had no desire to live Evelyn's murder in even a dream. So he turned quickly from her, ignoring everything and everyone, seeking the only place of refuge he had in this unholy hour.

As soon as the tent flap fell behind him Ardeth dropped to his knees beneath the weight of the priest's grief, seeking sanity in who he truly was outside this nightmare. His face fell into his hands and his tears raced as the floodgates opened. Never had Imhotep grieved like this. Never had he found the brink of letting his humanity go. And maybe he would have, if Evy's offer of help did not nestle in the back of his mind as a quiet little reminder of dim hope that someone cared. But he was close. Ardeth had to get out of this dream. It was too real.

Jarring awake, he sat up and coughed at the heaviness over him. Tears were already falling without his leave to do so. The emotions were so strong, so painfully vivid that it made him nearly sick with despair. And it made him angry.

Sitting up in the sand, alone with the night and his thoughts, Ardeth mimicked the priest and rested his face in his hands. He wept with emotions that did not even belong to him, ghosts of the past swirling through him as if it was his life that had just been devastated. Imhotep did not deserve hope. He was the enemy, the murderer of many, the exterminator of his people, the tormentor of this sick earth and recklessly evil in his deeds. He didn't deserve Ardeth's pity, but to feel all hope ripped away in a matter of mere moments by the reading of a letter, to experience it firsthand was frightening.

Only once had Ardeth felt that way himself and in that moment he had wished the same on Imhotep. Seeing his people strung up, dead and gone without hope of continuing on had devastated Ardeth, who would have led the Med-Jai and been their chief. All those innocent people, his responsibility taken by the madness of a single evil force. He had hated Imhotep like no other being in that moment and would have caused the priest the same level of devastation if he had been given the means. It still hurt, fresh and terrible, now that he thought upon it again.

But now the urge to cause such pain on another had faded. He knew that reveling in Imhotep's desolation would not bring satisfaction, but hurt that another being would feel so hopeless. Imhotep deserved death for his terrible crimes, but that level of pain…Ardeth wasn't sure he could condemn any man to feel that way after living it through the priest's eyes and seeing for himself that it brought no joy. How could he fight this man relentlessly and feel this compassion?

Bay curled his long fingers around the sand beneath him until the little pieces of grit caused him irritation. Standing and sweeping the desert with wet, furious eyes Ardeth threw the sand and shouted into the quiet, echoing the question his heart asked every time one of these dreams stripped away at his resolve,

"WHY DO YOU REVEAL THIS TO ME!?"

Naturally there was no reply but the pain in his chest and his own sardonic judgment of himself and what he was becoming. Why was it so difficult to find himself in this place? Bay looked up onto the border of Imhotep's magic that he had fallen near when exiting his stolen car, so bright and beautiful. Clear tendrils of blue energy pulsated into the sky at unspeakable depths and illuminated the desert for miles. Ardeth watched the electrical sparks dance with heavy breathing and a heavy heart. On the other side of his link to Imhotep he could sense the priest also in a state of turmoil, enraged that his most painful moment had been seen by Ardeth's eyes. He remained aloof and unwilling to allow the Med-Jai to view his thoughts, but Ardeth couldn't miss the underlying shock and relived anguish.

"It is not for want of this," he whispered, dropping his vision to the ground and kicking sand towards the car. Ardeth tiredly wandered to the hood and sat back against it, letting his mind rest from the onslaught of emotion. He had to be careful now, to not allow Imhotep to sense his position and know he was coming. The unspeakable pain of this dream had taken the priest's attention from wondering where Ardeth was, but now that the storm was ending he had to shield his thoughts from revealing too much.

So he buried his appreciation of the fair light and covered his eyes from it to gather his bearings. Wiping a remnant of tears from his cheeks, Ardeth closed the door to his thoughts from the priest and called into memory the flash of knowledge that would see him past the barrier. The spell that would allow him through Imhotep's fence. He would use anger to push away his doubts. His destiny remained.

~~~~~~~

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

A/N: Woohoo! 200 reviews!! Mommints was lucky 200, Lula was lucky 100! Thanks guys! You're all awesome!

To Reviewers:

Lula – Thanks for the review! As for Immy, well, the life exchange between he and Ardeth does seem to be having a bit of an effect on the evil one, eh? But him just doesn't know what to do with himself. :-D I'm glad you're enjoying and I hope you feel better.

Mommints – You could do as my uncle did at work when he was playing his game—supervisor comes in, turn off monitor. ;-) Thank you, my friend, for stopping by and reading. I'm happy you liked it! And yes, I always ask that my readers trust me. Muahahahaha! ;-) I look forward to reading what you come up with on expanding that snippet I read the other day by your friend. :-)

Marcher – Thank you for the nice compliments! That part with Evy and Immy was one I was worried about in terms of people throwing things at me, so it's so nice to hear about it in positive ways. ;-) And yes…to see Ardeth angry. *drool* Glad you enjoyed that frying pan segment so many chapters ago. :-D I thought it would be cute to throw them back in again for hahas. :-D And anyway, I'm glad you weren't irked on that review. I didn't think you would be, but I always like to make sure I'm not being a jerk to people. Lol. :-D

Zarah – First off let me say, DON'T let anyone's negativity get in the way of your creativity! :-O :-D There's always gonna be those people that can't handle diversity and well, that's okay for them. Just don't let it bother you. Remember its nothing personal against you or your story…some people just can't appreciate a good story if the pairing is not to their liking. The most important thing is that you write for your enjoyment. That said, thanks for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying this…yes, there is an evil shortage of Ardeth/Evy stories out there! So let us populate ff.net with them! Muahaha! ;-D

Jessie C – Thanks as always! Good luck with your new story! :-D

Serena – Welcome back! I'm glad you're still around. :-) Thanks for dropping me the review, your compliments mean a bunch, you're very kind to say that! :-O :-D I'm glad you're enjoying and can only hope you continue to. :-)

Deana – Heck yeah! I'd be pulling Ardeth in that closet in a heartbeat. ;-) Now there is a nice thought. Maybe I'll have to issue that as a challenge on my site, writing about Ardeth in a closet with a girl. :-D Thanks, my friend!

Marxbros – As always, thank you much for your reviews, for following this story and your compliments/suggestions! Means a lot! You're very kind to say that about what I wrote. :-O My most worried part gets such a high compliment! Thanks, my friend! :-) I'm gratified to hear I made it good. I look forward to more Hereafter!! Glad you updated, but fic monster is still hungry over here. ;-) But I guess time promotes the great quality of it, huh? :-) Thanks!

Dead-Girls-Watch – Thanks for continuing to read this! :-D It means a bunch to have people read regularly and enjoy. I hope Unfortunate Amulet is coming along well! I'm very interested to see what will happen to Evy! :-D Thanks again!