Okay. . . Mummy fic. My first- no, second- attempt, though I haven't
gotten around to typing up the first. Maybe I'll do that next. Anyways,
this is Evie x 'mystery character' (if you can't guess it, shame on you,
but you'll find out next chappy anyway). It's a character from the actual
movie, not an original one, so don't worry. I don't really have a plot for
this going past the next few chapters, but I'll post what I've got.
Disclaimer: if you recognize it, it's not mine. if you DO recognize it, it IS mine. quite a simple concept, isn't it?
Chapter 1 (???)
The sun was high in the sky over the burning sands of Egypt, reflecting in heat waves on the giant dunes, with nothing but rock and dirt and golden grains as far as the eye could see. This was ancient and beautiful nature, here, uninhabited and unknown to most of the world. Modern society had not breached the countless miles of desert heat and fury, leaving these places barren in the high noon of the unmerciful summer heat of Africa. No life stirred here, nothing disturbed the sands for many miles. In ancient times, when the Pharaohs had ruled, kings and priests regularly traversed this land, making the journey both as living men, and as mummies. Now, a small band of men patrolled the area, keeping safe the tombs of the kings of their ancestors. They were ever vigilant and fierce in their duty to protect the world from the curses that abounded in the ancient city buried long ago. Even the women and children of their society fought to keep the outside world at bay.
But such a task is bound to fail eventually, even for a moment. The Med- jai had failed before, though not so greatly or irreversibly, and these blunders had been corrected with time. The world had yet to discover the horrors buried in the City of the Dead, Hamunaptra, but in ignorance, the people of the modern world would continue to come to it's gates like moths to a flame. As they did this day.
*** POV change***
Daniel Jacobs, cowboy-turned-treasure-hunter, dismounted his camel gratefully, pulling out his gun. He eyed the pile of rock nearby, then turned and glared at the drunken Arabian standing nearby.
"This is it?" He asked angrily. The small man nodded, cowering behind the neck of his own camel. In frustration, Jacobs turned and kicked a rock laying nearby, waiting for his partners to dismount.
"What the hell?" Martens growled, coming up alongside Jacobs and sliding off his camel. He too whirled and glared at the Arabian guide, then stomped off to inform the other American treasure hunters. Much yelling insued as the other five came around a dune and caught sight of the pile of toppled rubble that was -supposedly- Hamunaptra. There was little to look at. Columns and walls lay collapsed on the side, statues and carvings strewn haphazardly throughout the mess. The outer wall and gates were intact, , but the could see through the bars the city- the parts that weren't buried in sand- was totally destroyed. Jacobs turned dejectedly away, looking at the group behind him. The arguing had died down to angry mutters.
"I told ya." One of the Americans said, face and voice somewhat smug. "I told ya it was in ruins. The treasure is still down there, but you'll have one helluva time digging it out from under that mess." He snorted. "There's an oasis round the back of the wall. We can rest there for tonight, then in the morning, if you guys still wanna have a look, we can head in." He turned his camel to the side, following the wall to the left.
"Yeah, all well and good for you, O'Connell, you've already got your treasure. We came all the way out here for nothin'!" Anderson shouted after him. The treasure-hunters heaved a collective sigh and headed off after him. It was true what Anderson had said. O'Connell had been to Hamunaptra twice, and the second time returned with gold enough to set him up for the rest of his life. He had overheard his fellow six Americans in a bar, discussing the City in shaky Arabic with a peasant who claimed to have been on a dig there. O'Connell had interrupted and told them to forget it- he claimed that Hamunaptra had gone up in a cloud of dust a few days after the dig the peasant had been on. The others had crowded around to hear him confirm that the place existed, and he had admitted that there really was treasure there. Led by Jacobs, they had decided to head out anyway, even ignoring O'Connell's warnings of desert warriors protecting the land and the City. He had reluctantly accompanied them, hoping to offer some protection and guidance and maybe get all of them out alive. Apparently he had been right, about the City at least. Jacobs still doubted the desert people.
An hour later, they had reached the oasis on the other side of the surprisingly vast City. O'Connell had already dismounted and was pulling his tent pack off the camel's back. Jacobs slid off his own beast, agreeing wholeheartedly with Turner when the man declared that he hated the smelly, disgusting things. O'Connell snorted softly, reaching up to pat the nose of his own camel.
"Evy used to say they were adorable. They love her." Rick said softly, eyes distant as he thought about the past. Jacobs looked over at him.
"Evy?" He asked, curious. O'Connell had had a girl? The other American glanced up, smiling softly to himself as he answered the question.
"My ex-fiancée. We met on the way to Hamunaptra, actually. She's an Egyptologist, and dragged me there on a favor because she wanted to do a dig around here."
Jacobs watched as O'Connell pitched his tent, curiosity peaked.
"Ex-fiancée? What happened?" O'Connell looked up sharply. "Not that I mean to push or anythin', just curios." O'Connell sighed.
"No problem." He said, grabbing his bedroll and spreading it out. "We broke it off. We're still good friends, and we love each other, but it's more of a brother-sister thing. I honestly suspect she was in love with someone else, but that's not why we stopped the marriage. I lost track of her after I went back to America, haven't heard from her in going on ten years. One of us was always inaccessible, and both of us move around a lot, so we never got together. I kinda miss her, and her crazy brother Jonathan."
Jacobs was silent, musing over this knew and gentler side of the rough American, as he pulled out and set up his own bedroll. He knew the other guys had been listening in as O'Connell spoke. All of them were bachelors themselves, even Kaji, their drunken Arabian guide. O'Connell spoke Arabian fluently- another facet of the strange American- so speaking to Kaji had become much easier, and Kaji, when not drunk, would hold lively conversations with O'Connell. He was an interesting guy.
Jacobs was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of hoof beats. These weren't camel feet either- that was the sound of horse hooves on the sand. No one in their group had brought a horse. Jacobs looked up in the direction the sound was coming from, trying to determine how many horses were approaching. It was quite a few.
"Get the hell up, you idiots!" He yelled at his partners, grabbing his gun. O'Connell had already grabbed a shotgun and was headed to the edge of the small stand of trees. Jacobs rushed after him, catching up as O'Connell slowed at the tree line. He followed O'Connell's more experienced gaze, looking at the top of a large dune to the east. The other treasure hunters joined them, panting, guns in hand. The hoof beats stilled except for one set, and after a moment, a horse crested the top of the dune.
"Shit." Smith muttered, staring. The horse itself was huge, all black, and fierce-looking, but it was the rider that was most startling. The man was garbed in long black robes, and a white beard fell from his chin under what little of his tanned face was showing beneath his cloak. A gun was visible in his holster on the saddle, but the weapon at his hip was a scimitar- a wicked looking curved sword. Jacobs was with Smith on this one. Shit.
The man on horseback spotted them and waved a hand behind him. Fifteen other men on horseback joined him at the top of the hill, and they came towards the oasis in a line at a slow trot. Jones, Smith, and Anderson drew their guns, but O'Connell batted them aside, saying "Leave this to me." The riders halted five yards away, and Rick strode out to meet them, leaving his gun behind in Martens' hands. He stopped five feet from the leader and raised his right hand. "Allah ho mana." He said, apparently greeting them.
The leader eyed him curiously, but returned the gesture and the phrase. Then together they touched their hands to their foreheads and hearts. At this distance, Jacobs could see the tattoos on the cheekbones of each man. These were apparently the desert warriors O'Connell had warned about. The leader moved his horse closer, turning to look down sideways from the saddle at O'Connell. "What do you want here, stranger? What do you know of our ways?" The ancient man asked.
"These guys were looking for gold in the City." O'Connell said, gesturing back to Jacobs. "I tried to get 'em not to go, but they wouldn't listen, so I figured I'd go with and at least keep 'em from doing anything too stupid." He sighed, looking at the other mounted warriors behind the leader. "As for knowing your customs, Ardeth Bay is a buddy of mine. We met at the incident nine years ago." Jacobs watched, even more curios about O'Connell, as the warriors muttered among themselves. The leader dismounted and held out his hand.
"If you are who you claim, then show it too me." He demanded, eyeing O'Connell untrustingly. Show him what? Jacobs wondered. He watched in fascination as O'Connell sighed in frustration and began removing the leather band around his right wrist. Jacobs had thought it was just a gun brace- apparently he was wrong. O'Connell stuck out his fist and the leader of the warriors grabbed it and examined something on the back of his wrist closely. "It is genuine." He said at last, letting go. O'Connell put the leather band back on, discreetly rubbing his arm where the old man had grabbed it.
"Rick O'Connell, nice to meet you." O'Connell said, sticking out his hand once the band was back in place. The old man took it, smiling warmly.
"I am Abjul Bay. Ardeth is my eldest son. He speaks often about you, O'Connell. I thank you for aiding him, and would like to tell you that his offer still stands. If you decide to join the Medjai, we will welcome you." That shocked Jacobs, and the others as well, but it looked like old news to O'Connell from the way he grimaced. Abjul's face turned serious, and he looked past O'Connell to the men standing beneath the trees. "You and your friends may stay, but you know what might happen if they delve too deeply. You know what the sands of that place hold. We cannot allow a repeat of what happened when last you were in the City, friend of my eldest son. If they disturb the City, be it on your head as well as theirs. We hold you responsible."
The leader rested one hand on O'Connell's shoulder, watching him closely as he acknowledged the responsibility. He mounted his horse, and the group as one raised their hands and said the phrase of greeting again, this time in farewell. O'Connell returned the gesture, watching until the sixteen riders had topped several dunes, before turning back and walking to the oasis. He took his gun back from Martens, walking briskly back to his tent and stowing it, nodding to Kaji as he passed the inebriated fellow. The others followed.
"Those were those desert warriors you was talkin' about?" Turner asked. O'Connell looked at him.
"Yeah, that was them." He said. He went and sat next to Kaji, taking a swig from the bottle and leaning back in the shade. "They're the descendants of the society that guarded the Pharaohs of Egypt, the Medjai. Now they guard Hamunaptra."
"And they want you to join 'em?" Anderson exclaimed.
"Yeah, and what was all that business with your wrist?" Jones asked, barging in before O'Connell could speak.
"And what happened nine years ago?" Smith added. "I thought that was when you went on that dig."
"Yeah, and who's this Are-dith?" Martens added. O'Connell was looking murderously about at the Americans, trying to think of ways to get them to leave him alone. They kept shooting questions at him, and it was royally pissing him off. He was about to blow when Jacobs cut in quietly.
"What's buried beneath Hamunaptra?" He asked. "It didn't sound like they were talkin' about gold." O'Connell looked up, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes. Jacobs was startled to see fear there, real and naked. Finally, the man stood up and headed for his tent, silent as the grave. He stopped before entering it, turning halfway around to look at the men behind him.
"It's the city of the dead, Jacobs. What do you think is buried there?"
***Next Morning***
Jacobs, accompanied by Anderson and Martens, walked through the oasis to the small gate in the back wall of the City, entering as soon as the sun was fully above the horizon in the beautiful Egyptian morning sky. O'Connell had taken Turner, Smith, and Jones around to the front of the City, leaving Kaji to guard the camp. O'Connell hadn't wanted to have some of them out of his sight, but Jacobs had reminded him that desert warrior oath or no, O'Connell was not in charge of this expedition, he was. Reluctantly, the mysterious man had agreed.
Jacobs walked through the gate and into what resembled a tunnel. The wall surrounding the city was several yards thick and covered in ancient scribbles and pictures. It looked to be in relatively good condition for an ancient city, almost as if someone had cleaned it up recently. They reached the other side and walked through the twin metal gates there, stepping into a different and divided world.
To the right was what he had expected from this dig. Ancient buildings lay half-buried by sand, the rubble of collapsed pieces lying in the middle of the clearings between each building. No gold glinted from the sand, but tools, pottery, small statues, and stone tablets lay scattered about, sticking up from the sand piled like snowdrifts on the sides of buildings. The area had been roped off with string and sticks, separating it from the path and the left side of Jacobs' view, which was another story altogether. The path had been swept clean, showing smooth cobblestones made of yellow sandstone, each piece perfectly square and carved with a picture that Jacobs recalled as hieroglyphics. The stones were laid out in a pattern according to what was on them. To the right of the path, sand spilled onto the edge stones. To the left, however, grass grew in lush brown soil, covered with fronds, and beyond lay a flourishing vegetable patch. Behind the large garden was a grassy area shaded by large palm trees and lined with flowers, and water ran through a small canal that was lined with stones, and beyond the trees, Jacobs could see a few ivy-covered stone buildings of ancient Egyptian design. More buildings were beyond, but they lay uninhabited and dirty, resembling the scene on the right side of the path. It looked as though someone lived here.
Jacobs walked down the path quickly but cautiously, trying to make no noise lest someone actually did live here. Martens and Anderson followed his lead, and they soon entered what appeared to be a small village. There was a path swept through the street, and a broom was leaned casually against the corner of the first building. Sand covered most everything, but the swept path led through the small town to what looked like a village square. There were several small areas that had been swept, each leading into various buildings around the square. "Now we're on to something." Martens murmured.
"These swept places probably lead to important stuff. If we follow 'em we're bound to find somethin' expensive!" Anderson agreed. Jacobs nodded and headed down one path that was a little wider than the rest.
"This one looks good. Come on." He whispered, gesturing to his excited partners. It headed in a beeline for the entrance of a large building. The doors, standing slightly open, were clear of dust and displayed images of Egyptian people bowed in worship. The images were lined in gold, and the corners of each frame of pictures marked with precious jewels. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Jacobs said. "Come on, there's bound to be somethin' valuable inside this place."
The three heaved one of the weighty doors open and slipped inside. A large room greeted them, lit by torches in corner stands and swept free of sand. It was empty except for those iron pieces, and wall brackets containing burning spices, but the walls were decorated in the same manner. Statues of giant scorpions stood guarded over the door, glowing and reflecting the dim torchlight. Anderson reached for one of the shining man-sized statues, hissing in pleasure, but Martens batted his hand away, pointing to the stinger on one of them. The end was broken off, revealing that the statues were made of stone- only leafed in gold. "We'll grab them if we can't find anything else here." Jacobs told them, moving to the other side of the room.
Two black stone statues of large dog-headed beings stood against the far wall, one on either side of a smaller door. Jacobs tugged the handle on the door and it creaked open, drawing the other two to that side of the room. A torch-lit stairwell spiraled downwards, beckoning. The three treasure-hunters stepped joyfully through the doorway, walking down the gilded steps. They reached the landing and opened the door to the next room, Jacobs in the lead. The room was everything they had hoped for. Hallways led off from both sides of the room, some lit, some not, but the interesting things were against the far wall. A golden altar stood on a raised platform, silks draped over the top. Each step leading up to the stage was graced with a golden jar on the right side and a golden bowl on the left, all bejeweled around the outer rims. The altar held a larger version of bowl and jar, similarly decorated, as well as a small golden knife with a jewel-crusted handle. Jacobs rushed forward, the other two behind him, when suddenly something hit the side of his head, sending him sprawling to the ground. He heard thumps and supposed that Martens and Anderson had been hit by whatever-it-was as well. He tried crawling to his feet, but stopped when he felt something cold tickle his Adam's apple. His eyes followed the curve-y, etched steel from his throat up to the wielder as she declared- well, he didn't know what exactly she declared, but it wasn't a nice tone.
The woman standing glaring above him was beautiful- there were no other words for it. She had long, wavy black hair and deep brown eyes outlined in strange make-up, with an angelic face currently marred by a rather pissed expression. She was dressed oddly, but the clothing only enhanced the archaic look. She wore a see-through white silk skirt that brushed her ankles over an opaque white skirt that reached her knees and was slit down both thighs. Another see-through garment, a sort of one-piece poncho or cloak that reached her elbows, covered a matching white tank top. The jewelry she wore was entirely gold- small hoop earrings, a medallion necklace, a coronet, bangles on her wrist and ankle, and a snake curled around her upper arm-except for a brooch in the form of a scarab on her left shoulder. But the sword she was pressing against his throat felt like very real cold steel.
Jacobs looked over at Anderson and Martens and saw them in a similar predicament. A tall bald man in black robes and a loincloth, also wearing a golden medallion, held a large double-headed battle-ax at the ready, waiting for one of them to move so he could swing the shiny curved edge and chop of their heads. Jacobs looked back at the woman. She glared at him and said something in that language again, and Jacobs tentatively shook his head and said "English?" The woman sighed and said something to the man in her own language, then spoke to him.
"English?" She asked. He nodded. "Bah. I haven't had to use English in a decade. Happy enough for you, thief, that I still remember." She had a fading British accent, but it came back as she spoke more. "On your feet then, all of you. I'll have no treasure-hunters in my City." She said something to the man in robes, and he backed off a little, moving his battle-ax away from Martens' ear. Jacobs hesitantly got to his feet, swallowing and trying not to shake too much. The woman obligingly moved her sword away from his jugular, but still held it at the ready.
"Right then." The woman said. "About face and back upstairs." She swung her sword in the direction of the stairs that Jacobs and the other two had come down, saying something in that flowing ancient language to the man with the battle-ax. Apparently he couldn't speak English, and the woman had to translate for him. Jacobs filed that away as an advantage, because he fully intended to leave Hamunaptra richer than the Pharaohs. For the moment, he was more concerned about keeping his body intact. He began marching for the stairs, Martens and Anderson behind him, when a new voice called out in that language he couldn't understand. It wasn't any Arabic he knew, and it was getting on his nerves. He stopped on the bottom step and turned to look.
A little boy, no more than ten years old, stood in the entranceway of one of the lighted tunnels. The woman turned back to the boy slightly, keeping her body facing Anderson in front of her, and her face half-turned so she would see movement out of the corner of her eyes. She spoke to the boy, but this time it was in Arabic. Still, it was much to fast for Jacobs' broken vocabulary to follow. How infuriating. The lady spoke three languages fluently, and one of them he couldn't understand. The woman gave the boy an order, and he complained, but she put her foot down, saying clearly. "Lakil, now." The boy muttered unintelligibly, but departed through the tunnel.
When the woman turned back to find him staring, she stepped forward and jabbed her sword in the air in the direction of the top of the staircase. "Up!" She told him in Arabic, then in English, "Upstairs, right now." Jacobs turned back to the staircase, grumbling angrily.
At the top, he tried to make a dash for it, but the tall man anticipated his move. He got exactly three running steps from the doorway when the staff of the man's ax hit him on the side of the knees, and he went down. The man stood above him with one ax blade pressed to the back of his neck, growling threats in that language he'd never heard before. Anderson and Martens stepped out of the doorway, the lady right behind them, sword still drawn, and backed into a wall, signifying that, no sir, they wouldn't be trying to escape, thankyouverymuch. The woman pointed with her sword at the door and told them to go outside, slowly if you don't mind, then translated for the benefit of the man threatening his neck. Jacobs waited for the cold steel to leave his skin before crawling a few feet away and getting to his feet.
Outside, the scenery had visibly changed. All the buildings were as they had been, but a small group of six children stood by one corner. They were dressed in a similar style to the two adults, and ranged from ages four to eight, Jacobs guessed. He took a moment to notice that they all had a beetle-like brooch on their clothes, matching the one on the lady's shoulder except these were all a bluish-black, where hers was a shiny red color. However, his attention wavered from the children as he spotted the dogs that stood around the edges of the square. They were fierce-looking things, jackals with black fur and all teeth and claws. Some lay relaxed, sprawled and panting in the sand and the sun, while others stood vigilant, growling, it seemed, at Jacobs alone. The lady snapped at him to stop gawking and go stand in the road. Anderson and Martens joined him quickly.
He turned and looked at the two adults, who glared at him angrily. "Listen, lady." Jacobs began, starting to feel as though he really might not get through this intact after all. "We didn't know y'all were livin' here, or we never woulda come." Yeah, right. "If you just let us go now, we'll head on back to Cairo, be gone before y'know it and never come back." Like hell. "We won't take any of your treasure." While you're looking. "We won't tell anyone where this place is." Until they buy us a few drinks.
"The lady looked at him long and hard. "How did you get here in the first place?" She asked him, obviously not trusting him. "How many of you are there?" Her sword was still at the ready, and Jacobs eyed it before answering.
"We, uh- we found this laborer guy in Cairo who said he was on a dig here nine or ten years back. Another guy confirmed it, said he was there too at the same time. There's eight of us all together."
"Oh, bother." The lady said. "I thought all the workers died when . . . ah, too late now. Where are you camped?"
Jacobs looked at her, confidence coming back a little now that her sword was pointed fully at the ground. "Why should I tell you? You'll probably just take all our stuff and kill-" He stopped as something whisked by his chest. He looked at the lady across from, who looked back at him with a pissed, scary expression on her face. He looked down and found to his horror that a large cut had been made in the fabric of his coat, right by his neck.
"Next time I'll draw blood. Talk."
"R-right. We're at an oasis out back. Some of the guys went 'round to the front gates this morning, and we went through the little back gate. Kaji- that's the little Arabian guy- he's back with the camp." The lady turned to her partner and spoke to him for a moment. He responded, then set off back towards the wall and the oasis. She then gestured at the children, calling out. "Marashea, come over here. The rest of you go home." One little girl, about six years old, came over to them, while the others headed down the path the way the tall man had gone. The lady sheathed her sword and knelt down to be on eye level with the little girl. "'Shea, honey, I want you to go and find your father, all right? And I need to borrow Cheepers for a moment."
"Kay, mamma." Marashea said. She brushed her hand over her shoulder and gave her beetle brooch to her mother, who must have light-fingered it somehow, because it disappeared. The little girl kissed her mother's cheek, and got a kiss on the forehead in return, then she ran off down one of the different paths. Her mother watched her go for a moment, then turned around as an agonized screech filled the air.
Jacobs had watched as Anderson started edging toward the woman while she was occupied with her daughter, but had left the dangerous attempt to his partner. Anderson had been reaching for the lady's shoulder, hoping to throw her to the ground and over-power her with his superior weight, but before his hand had touched her, he pulled back screaming.
The woman whirled around, checking to see who had yelled. She saw Anderson rolling on the sandy ground and went to kneel beside him. With a strength that bellied her thin frame, she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand into the air. Jacobs felt nausea sweep over him at the sight.
The little beetles were real, and the one the girl had given to her mother had latched its jaws onto the palm of the hand that had been reaching for her. The lady held out her hand beneath Anderson's struggling arm, saying in a scolding voice, "That's enough, Cheepers! Come here." The little black bug dropped obediently into her palm, and she put it on her shoulder with the red one. Now that Jacobs was paying attention, he could see the little red antennae moving in the air, and heard a little 'meep-meep' sound issue from it in between Anderson's groans. He looked back at his partner, horrified.
The woman had taken a rag from her pocket and ripped it into strips, and was now wrapping them around Anderson's bloody hand. "You should be glad he was only giving you a warning." She said.
"That was a warning?" Martens asked, sounding sick.
The woman nodded, still wrapping up the bloody hand. A part of the bite was still visible- some of the flesh of his palm was missing, and a lot more had been shredded. It would be horribly scarred. "Yes, this was a light warning, and Cheepers' way of protecting me. If you had been a more serious threat, Cheepers and Meep-Meep would have perhaps eaten all the flesh from your hand, leaving nothing but bone. A threat to my life, and they would have crawled under your skin to your neck and bitten through your spinal cord, killing you instantly." She said it with a small shudder, and on her shoulder, Jacobs heard an excited chittering noise from the little bugs. "You're lucky to have most everything still intact."
They sat in silence for a moment, while the woman finished bandaging Anderson's hand, until Turner entered the square and spotted them. "Hey, Anderson, I see you found somebody too! What happened, did ya fall down?" He came up to them and saw the bloody rags on his partner's hand. "What'd you do to him, you bitch?" He turned to the woman, reaching out to shake her shoulders, having not noticed the two bugs sitting there. Martens caught his hand in time, looking very pale.
"I really suggest you don't touch her." He said, looking Turner in the eye. There was silence in the square until the rest of Turner's party entered. Jacobs looked up as O'Connell yelled.
"Evelyn?"
The woman looked up and saw O'Connell. So this was his ex-fiancée, huh? "Rick!" She cried, standing and running to him. He swept her into a giant hug, both of them laughing joyfully. She pulled back to arms' length to look at him. "Rick, what are you doing way out here, I thought you went to America?"
"Well, last I checked, you were in London." He replied, grinning. He pulled her into another hug, chuckling. "Great to see you, Evy. I'm glad you're here, too, maybe you can talk some sense into these knuckleheads."
She pulled away and looked over his shoulder at Smith and Jones standing behind him, along with two other men Jacobs didn't know. One of them wore casual modern clothing, but the other was dressed like those desert raiders that had scared the shit out of them the day before. Evy looked at the white man. "Jonathan, Raj, you two better not be drunk. I'll have your hides if you've been slacking off."
The white man, the one in modern clothing, looked at her imploringly. "Please, old mum, it's so bloody hot out here-"
"And you'll not swear in my presence either." Evy cut in. She turned back to O'Connell. "One of your friends is hurt and I need to take him back to my home here to clean him up properly. Would you like to come along?"
O'Connell looked back towards Jacobs and Martens and spotted Anderson sitting on the ground, holding his hand. "Sure." He replied, looking round at the square. "This is a neat place you got here; I don't remember any of these- holy shit!" He cut off, looking back towards the houses. The tall man had returned, carrying a struggling Kaji over one shoulder and his weapon over the other. O'Connell took one look at the guy and went for his gun. Jacobs watched, confused, as Evy stopped him. The tall man dropped Kaji on the ground beside Martens, smirked at Anderson, and walked up to Evy and O'Connell. "Evy, what the hell is-" O'Connell started, but she cut him off with a glance. The tall man spoke to her in that language and she answered back in the same tongue. The look on O'Connell's face was amusing as he watched the conversation between the two of them.
"Evy, what is that guy doing alive?" O'Connell asked. "I thought we got rid of him for good last time we saw him!" His gun was still out, but the tall guy just looked amused.
"Relax, Rick. I accidentally raised him when I was cleaning out the temple of Osiris, but the Hom-dai had been lifted. He's quite a nice man without the curse- it was controlling him when we killed him, which is why he was killing people all the time. He's been alive nearly the whole time since I last saw you." O'Connell's gun didn't waver. "Rick you can't kill him because he- well, because he still has his powers for starters, but, Rick, he's living like a normal person. He married a Medjai woman. Rick, he has children. Two little daughters and a son. He's not the same Imhotep you knew." As Evy spoke, O'Connell was eyeing the tall man like he was a volatile ghost or monster, not believing a word of what the woman said. When she finished, he turned his disbelieving gaze on her.
"You're sure?" He asked her skeptically.
"Well, I think I would have found out before now if he'd killed me." Evy answered wryly. "Honestly, I'm sure." Rick looked at the tall man- Imhotep, apparently- with obvious distrust, but reluctantly put the gun away. There was a moment of silence, broken by the approach of a large group of children and one adult. Jacobs recognized the girl in the lead as Marashea, Evy's daughter. The man striding behind resembled the dark- skinned one that had come with O'Connell and Jonathan, and wore the dark clothing that the desert warriors from the day before had worn. He also carried both sword and gun on his belt. He headed towards Evy and O'Connell, raising his hand and giving them that desert greeting. Evy, O'Connell, and Imhotep returned the gesture.
Turner, Smith, and Jones came to join Jacobs in the center of the square, having spotted the jackals around the edges. The six American treasure hunters observed the gaggle of children crowded around the five adults. Martens started edging towards one of the unused paths leading out of the square, but Smith grabbed his elbow. "I wouldn't. The City is a maze in its own right, and those creepy dogs have the run of the place. You'd either get lost and starve or be found by the dogs and eaten- those things only obey that lady Evy and the bald guy." Smith whispered, glancing back towards said people and at the dogs. Jacobs turned his attention from Smith to the others as O'Connell began to speak. He could just barely make out what was being said.
"Hey, Ardeth!" O'Connell had said, greeting the dark-haired warrior. Jacobs remembered the name from earlier conversation.
"My friend." The Medjai said in return, nodding his head. "It has been too long since we last crossed paths." He spoke English fluently, but with a heavy desert accent.
"Likewise." O'Connell said, smiling.
The Medjai turned to one of the men who had come into the square with O'Connell, another Medjai fellow. "This is my cousin, Raj. He lives here with us in the City, along with his wife Keiba, and eldest daughter, Kaya." O'Connell turned to greet the man warmly.
"Oh, that reminds me!" Evy said, looking over in Jacobs' direction, though he looked away before she caught him spying. "Ardeth, one of Rick's friends was hurt just a moment ago, and I want to take him back to the house to fix him up properly. Would you keep watch over the rest of them?"
Ardeth looked like he wanted to protest. He opened his mouth, but looked at Evy and closed it again. "Of course, Evelyn." He said instead, nodding his agreement. O'Connell looked at him, then Evy, with a funny expression on his face, but said nothing. Jacobs watched with interest as the woman- the only one he'd seen since Cairo- turned to the bald guy and gave him what Jacobs suspected was a rapid-fire recounting of the conversation in that other language that Jacobs was coming to hate. He couldn't figure out where the language was from; therefor, he couldn't figure out where the guy was from, and wouldn't know of any cultural weaknesses or personal peeves the man might have.
After the conversation had been recounted, Evy returned to the group of would-be treasure thieves, standing over them like a menace. "Come on, then. I'm still mad at the lot of you, but you'll be shown hospitality." She snapped at Jacobs. He had a sneaking suspicion that she knew he'd been watching her. She turned to Anderson and helped him to his feet, being a little gentler with him than before. "Up you come. If you'll follow me, I can clean and bandage that properly." She turned to the others. "But let this be a warning to the rest of you. There'll be no hostility or thievery from any of you, or I'll not fix you up when you've just tried to hurt someone and paid the consequences." She marched off, holding Anderson's elbow above his wounded hand.
The four strangers took up a guard and escort around Jacobs and the others, and he heard O'Connell mutter to himself, wondering what actually happened. Jacobs was quiet, knowing O'Connell wouldn't hear a word against his obviously insane, but beautiful, ex-fiancée. The Medjai, Ardeth, spoke in that other language to the bald man, who responded in kind, chuckling as he went. The guy had a sick sense of humor, but from what Jacobs could tell, he had once been a murderer on some type of rampage. Ardeth muttered back at O'Connell. "Scarab." Jacobs just about feinted at that. Those flesh- eating bug things were scarabs? Jacobs had always thought all that stuff was a load of crap, curses and evil beetles and magical warrior bodyguards. Egyptian myths, nothing more, right? Apparently not. Jacobs walked along the way they had first come in a daze, not paying much attention to anything. His mind was on overload.
Disclaimer: if you recognize it, it's not mine. if you DO recognize it, it IS mine. quite a simple concept, isn't it?
Chapter 1 (???)
The sun was high in the sky over the burning sands of Egypt, reflecting in heat waves on the giant dunes, with nothing but rock and dirt and golden grains as far as the eye could see. This was ancient and beautiful nature, here, uninhabited and unknown to most of the world. Modern society had not breached the countless miles of desert heat and fury, leaving these places barren in the high noon of the unmerciful summer heat of Africa. No life stirred here, nothing disturbed the sands for many miles. In ancient times, when the Pharaohs had ruled, kings and priests regularly traversed this land, making the journey both as living men, and as mummies. Now, a small band of men patrolled the area, keeping safe the tombs of the kings of their ancestors. They were ever vigilant and fierce in their duty to protect the world from the curses that abounded in the ancient city buried long ago. Even the women and children of their society fought to keep the outside world at bay.
But such a task is bound to fail eventually, even for a moment. The Med- jai had failed before, though not so greatly or irreversibly, and these blunders had been corrected with time. The world had yet to discover the horrors buried in the City of the Dead, Hamunaptra, but in ignorance, the people of the modern world would continue to come to it's gates like moths to a flame. As they did this day.
*** POV change***
Daniel Jacobs, cowboy-turned-treasure-hunter, dismounted his camel gratefully, pulling out his gun. He eyed the pile of rock nearby, then turned and glared at the drunken Arabian standing nearby.
"This is it?" He asked angrily. The small man nodded, cowering behind the neck of his own camel. In frustration, Jacobs turned and kicked a rock laying nearby, waiting for his partners to dismount.
"What the hell?" Martens growled, coming up alongside Jacobs and sliding off his camel. He too whirled and glared at the Arabian guide, then stomped off to inform the other American treasure hunters. Much yelling insued as the other five came around a dune and caught sight of the pile of toppled rubble that was -supposedly- Hamunaptra. There was little to look at. Columns and walls lay collapsed on the side, statues and carvings strewn haphazardly throughout the mess. The outer wall and gates were intact, , but the could see through the bars the city- the parts that weren't buried in sand- was totally destroyed. Jacobs turned dejectedly away, looking at the group behind him. The arguing had died down to angry mutters.
"I told ya." One of the Americans said, face and voice somewhat smug. "I told ya it was in ruins. The treasure is still down there, but you'll have one helluva time digging it out from under that mess." He snorted. "There's an oasis round the back of the wall. We can rest there for tonight, then in the morning, if you guys still wanna have a look, we can head in." He turned his camel to the side, following the wall to the left.
"Yeah, all well and good for you, O'Connell, you've already got your treasure. We came all the way out here for nothin'!" Anderson shouted after him. The treasure-hunters heaved a collective sigh and headed off after him. It was true what Anderson had said. O'Connell had been to Hamunaptra twice, and the second time returned with gold enough to set him up for the rest of his life. He had overheard his fellow six Americans in a bar, discussing the City in shaky Arabic with a peasant who claimed to have been on a dig there. O'Connell had interrupted and told them to forget it- he claimed that Hamunaptra had gone up in a cloud of dust a few days after the dig the peasant had been on. The others had crowded around to hear him confirm that the place existed, and he had admitted that there really was treasure there. Led by Jacobs, they had decided to head out anyway, even ignoring O'Connell's warnings of desert warriors protecting the land and the City. He had reluctantly accompanied them, hoping to offer some protection and guidance and maybe get all of them out alive. Apparently he had been right, about the City at least. Jacobs still doubted the desert people.
An hour later, they had reached the oasis on the other side of the surprisingly vast City. O'Connell had already dismounted and was pulling his tent pack off the camel's back. Jacobs slid off his own beast, agreeing wholeheartedly with Turner when the man declared that he hated the smelly, disgusting things. O'Connell snorted softly, reaching up to pat the nose of his own camel.
"Evy used to say they were adorable. They love her." Rick said softly, eyes distant as he thought about the past. Jacobs looked over at him.
"Evy?" He asked, curious. O'Connell had had a girl? The other American glanced up, smiling softly to himself as he answered the question.
"My ex-fiancée. We met on the way to Hamunaptra, actually. She's an Egyptologist, and dragged me there on a favor because she wanted to do a dig around here."
Jacobs watched as O'Connell pitched his tent, curiosity peaked.
"Ex-fiancée? What happened?" O'Connell looked up sharply. "Not that I mean to push or anythin', just curios." O'Connell sighed.
"No problem." He said, grabbing his bedroll and spreading it out. "We broke it off. We're still good friends, and we love each other, but it's more of a brother-sister thing. I honestly suspect she was in love with someone else, but that's not why we stopped the marriage. I lost track of her after I went back to America, haven't heard from her in going on ten years. One of us was always inaccessible, and both of us move around a lot, so we never got together. I kinda miss her, and her crazy brother Jonathan."
Jacobs was silent, musing over this knew and gentler side of the rough American, as he pulled out and set up his own bedroll. He knew the other guys had been listening in as O'Connell spoke. All of them were bachelors themselves, even Kaji, their drunken Arabian guide. O'Connell spoke Arabian fluently- another facet of the strange American- so speaking to Kaji had become much easier, and Kaji, when not drunk, would hold lively conversations with O'Connell. He was an interesting guy.
Jacobs was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of hoof beats. These weren't camel feet either- that was the sound of horse hooves on the sand. No one in their group had brought a horse. Jacobs looked up in the direction the sound was coming from, trying to determine how many horses were approaching. It was quite a few.
"Get the hell up, you idiots!" He yelled at his partners, grabbing his gun. O'Connell had already grabbed a shotgun and was headed to the edge of the small stand of trees. Jacobs rushed after him, catching up as O'Connell slowed at the tree line. He followed O'Connell's more experienced gaze, looking at the top of a large dune to the east. The other treasure hunters joined them, panting, guns in hand. The hoof beats stilled except for one set, and after a moment, a horse crested the top of the dune.
"Shit." Smith muttered, staring. The horse itself was huge, all black, and fierce-looking, but it was the rider that was most startling. The man was garbed in long black robes, and a white beard fell from his chin under what little of his tanned face was showing beneath his cloak. A gun was visible in his holster on the saddle, but the weapon at his hip was a scimitar- a wicked looking curved sword. Jacobs was with Smith on this one. Shit.
The man on horseback spotted them and waved a hand behind him. Fifteen other men on horseback joined him at the top of the hill, and they came towards the oasis in a line at a slow trot. Jones, Smith, and Anderson drew their guns, but O'Connell batted them aside, saying "Leave this to me." The riders halted five yards away, and Rick strode out to meet them, leaving his gun behind in Martens' hands. He stopped five feet from the leader and raised his right hand. "Allah ho mana." He said, apparently greeting them.
The leader eyed him curiously, but returned the gesture and the phrase. Then together they touched their hands to their foreheads and hearts. At this distance, Jacobs could see the tattoos on the cheekbones of each man. These were apparently the desert warriors O'Connell had warned about. The leader moved his horse closer, turning to look down sideways from the saddle at O'Connell. "What do you want here, stranger? What do you know of our ways?" The ancient man asked.
"These guys were looking for gold in the City." O'Connell said, gesturing back to Jacobs. "I tried to get 'em not to go, but they wouldn't listen, so I figured I'd go with and at least keep 'em from doing anything too stupid." He sighed, looking at the other mounted warriors behind the leader. "As for knowing your customs, Ardeth Bay is a buddy of mine. We met at the incident nine years ago." Jacobs watched, even more curios about O'Connell, as the warriors muttered among themselves. The leader dismounted and held out his hand.
"If you are who you claim, then show it too me." He demanded, eyeing O'Connell untrustingly. Show him what? Jacobs wondered. He watched in fascination as O'Connell sighed in frustration and began removing the leather band around his right wrist. Jacobs had thought it was just a gun brace- apparently he was wrong. O'Connell stuck out his fist and the leader of the warriors grabbed it and examined something on the back of his wrist closely. "It is genuine." He said at last, letting go. O'Connell put the leather band back on, discreetly rubbing his arm where the old man had grabbed it.
"Rick O'Connell, nice to meet you." O'Connell said, sticking out his hand once the band was back in place. The old man took it, smiling warmly.
"I am Abjul Bay. Ardeth is my eldest son. He speaks often about you, O'Connell. I thank you for aiding him, and would like to tell you that his offer still stands. If you decide to join the Medjai, we will welcome you." That shocked Jacobs, and the others as well, but it looked like old news to O'Connell from the way he grimaced. Abjul's face turned serious, and he looked past O'Connell to the men standing beneath the trees. "You and your friends may stay, but you know what might happen if they delve too deeply. You know what the sands of that place hold. We cannot allow a repeat of what happened when last you were in the City, friend of my eldest son. If they disturb the City, be it on your head as well as theirs. We hold you responsible."
The leader rested one hand on O'Connell's shoulder, watching him closely as he acknowledged the responsibility. He mounted his horse, and the group as one raised their hands and said the phrase of greeting again, this time in farewell. O'Connell returned the gesture, watching until the sixteen riders had topped several dunes, before turning back and walking to the oasis. He took his gun back from Martens, walking briskly back to his tent and stowing it, nodding to Kaji as he passed the inebriated fellow. The others followed.
"Those were those desert warriors you was talkin' about?" Turner asked. O'Connell looked at him.
"Yeah, that was them." He said. He went and sat next to Kaji, taking a swig from the bottle and leaning back in the shade. "They're the descendants of the society that guarded the Pharaohs of Egypt, the Medjai. Now they guard Hamunaptra."
"And they want you to join 'em?" Anderson exclaimed.
"Yeah, and what was all that business with your wrist?" Jones asked, barging in before O'Connell could speak.
"And what happened nine years ago?" Smith added. "I thought that was when you went on that dig."
"Yeah, and who's this Are-dith?" Martens added. O'Connell was looking murderously about at the Americans, trying to think of ways to get them to leave him alone. They kept shooting questions at him, and it was royally pissing him off. He was about to blow when Jacobs cut in quietly.
"What's buried beneath Hamunaptra?" He asked. "It didn't sound like they were talkin' about gold." O'Connell looked up, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes. Jacobs was startled to see fear there, real and naked. Finally, the man stood up and headed for his tent, silent as the grave. He stopped before entering it, turning halfway around to look at the men behind him.
"It's the city of the dead, Jacobs. What do you think is buried there?"
***Next Morning***
Jacobs, accompanied by Anderson and Martens, walked through the oasis to the small gate in the back wall of the City, entering as soon as the sun was fully above the horizon in the beautiful Egyptian morning sky. O'Connell had taken Turner, Smith, and Jones around to the front of the City, leaving Kaji to guard the camp. O'Connell hadn't wanted to have some of them out of his sight, but Jacobs had reminded him that desert warrior oath or no, O'Connell was not in charge of this expedition, he was. Reluctantly, the mysterious man had agreed.
Jacobs walked through the gate and into what resembled a tunnel. The wall surrounding the city was several yards thick and covered in ancient scribbles and pictures. It looked to be in relatively good condition for an ancient city, almost as if someone had cleaned it up recently. They reached the other side and walked through the twin metal gates there, stepping into a different and divided world.
To the right was what he had expected from this dig. Ancient buildings lay half-buried by sand, the rubble of collapsed pieces lying in the middle of the clearings between each building. No gold glinted from the sand, but tools, pottery, small statues, and stone tablets lay scattered about, sticking up from the sand piled like snowdrifts on the sides of buildings. The area had been roped off with string and sticks, separating it from the path and the left side of Jacobs' view, which was another story altogether. The path had been swept clean, showing smooth cobblestones made of yellow sandstone, each piece perfectly square and carved with a picture that Jacobs recalled as hieroglyphics. The stones were laid out in a pattern according to what was on them. To the right of the path, sand spilled onto the edge stones. To the left, however, grass grew in lush brown soil, covered with fronds, and beyond lay a flourishing vegetable patch. Behind the large garden was a grassy area shaded by large palm trees and lined with flowers, and water ran through a small canal that was lined with stones, and beyond the trees, Jacobs could see a few ivy-covered stone buildings of ancient Egyptian design. More buildings were beyond, but they lay uninhabited and dirty, resembling the scene on the right side of the path. It looked as though someone lived here.
Jacobs walked down the path quickly but cautiously, trying to make no noise lest someone actually did live here. Martens and Anderson followed his lead, and they soon entered what appeared to be a small village. There was a path swept through the street, and a broom was leaned casually against the corner of the first building. Sand covered most everything, but the swept path led through the small town to what looked like a village square. There were several small areas that had been swept, each leading into various buildings around the square. "Now we're on to something." Martens murmured.
"These swept places probably lead to important stuff. If we follow 'em we're bound to find somethin' expensive!" Anderson agreed. Jacobs nodded and headed down one path that was a little wider than the rest.
"This one looks good. Come on." He whispered, gesturing to his excited partners. It headed in a beeline for the entrance of a large building. The doors, standing slightly open, were clear of dust and displayed images of Egyptian people bowed in worship. The images were lined in gold, and the corners of each frame of pictures marked with precious jewels. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Jacobs said. "Come on, there's bound to be somethin' valuable inside this place."
The three heaved one of the weighty doors open and slipped inside. A large room greeted them, lit by torches in corner stands and swept free of sand. It was empty except for those iron pieces, and wall brackets containing burning spices, but the walls were decorated in the same manner. Statues of giant scorpions stood guarded over the door, glowing and reflecting the dim torchlight. Anderson reached for one of the shining man-sized statues, hissing in pleasure, but Martens batted his hand away, pointing to the stinger on one of them. The end was broken off, revealing that the statues were made of stone- only leafed in gold. "We'll grab them if we can't find anything else here." Jacobs told them, moving to the other side of the room.
Two black stone statues of large dog-headed beings stood against the far wall, one on either side of a smaller door. Jacobs tugged the handle on the door and it creaked open, drawing the other two to that side of the room. A torch-lit stairwell spiraled downwards, beckoning. The three treasure-hunters stepped joyfully through the doorway, walking down the gilded steps. They reached the landing and opened the door to the next room, Jacobs in the lead. The room was everything they had hoped for. Hallways led off from both sides of the room, some lit, some not, but the interesting things were against the far wall. A golden altar stood on a raised platform, silks draped over the top. Each step leading up to the stage was graced with a golden jar on the right side and a golden bowl on the left, all bejeweled around the outer rims. The altar held a larger version of bowl and jar, similarly decorated, as well as a small golden knife with a jewel-crusted handle. Jacobs rushed forward, the other two behind him, when suddenly something hit the side of his head, sending him sprawling to the ground. He heard thumps and supposed that Martens and Anderson had been hit by whatever-it-was as well. He tried crawling to his feet, but stopped when he felt something cold tickle his Adam's apple. His eyes followed the curve-y, etched steel from his throat up to the wielder as she declared- well, he didn't know what exactly she declared, but it wasn't a nice tone.
The woman standing glaring above him was beautiful- there were no other words for it. She had long, wavy black hair and deep brown eyes outlined in strange make-up, with an angelic face currently marred by a rather pissed expression. She was dressed oddly, but the clothing only enhanced the archaic look. She wore a see-through white silk skirt that brushed her ankles over an opaque white skirt that reached her knees and was slit down both thighs. Another see-through garment, a sort of one-piece poncho or cloak that reached her elbows, covered a matching white tank top. The jewelry she wore was entirely gold- small hoop earrings, a medallion necklace, a coronet, bangles on her wrist and ankle, and a snake curled around her upper arm-except for a brooch in the form of a scarab on her left shoulder. But the sword she was pressing against his throat felt like very real cold steel.
Jacobs looked over at Anderson and Martens and saw them in a similar predicament. A tall bald man in black robes and a loincloth, also wearing a golden medallion, held a large double-headed battle-ax at the ready, waiting for one of them to move so he could swing the shiny curved edge and chop of their heads. Jacobs looked back at the woman. She glared at him and said something in that language again, and Jacobs tentatively shook his head and said "English?" The woman sighed and said something to the man in her own language, then spoke to him.
"English?" She asked. He nodded. "Bah. I haven't had to use English in a decade. Happy enough for you, thief, that I still remember." She had a fading British accent, but it came back as she spoke more. "On your feet then, all of you. I'll have no treasure-hunters in my City." She said something to the man in robes, and he backed off a little, moving his battle-ax away from Martens' ear. Jacobs hesitantly got to his feet, swallowing and trying not to shake too much. The woman obligingly moved her sword away from his jugular, but still held it at the ready.
"Right then." The woman said. "About face and back upstairs." She swung her sword in the direction of the stairs that Jacobs and the other two had come down, saying something in that flowing ancient language to the man with the battle-ax. Apparently he couldn't speak English, and the woman had to translate for him. Jacobs filed that away as an advantage, because he fully intended to leave Hamunaptra richer than the Pharaohs. For the moment, he was more concerned about keeping his body intact. He began marching for the stairs, Martens and Anderson behind him, when a new voice called out in that language he couldn't understand. It wasn't any Arabic he knew, and it was getting on his nerves. He stopped on the bottom step and turned to look.
A little boy, no more than ten years old, stood in the entranceway of one of the lighted tunnels. The woman turned back to the boy slightly, keeping her body facing Anderson in front of her, and her face half-turned so she would see movement out of the corner of her eyes. She spoke to the boy, but this time it was in Arabic. Still, it was much to fast for Jacobs' broken vocabulary to follow. How infuriating. The lady spoke three languages fluently, and one of them he couldn't understand. The woman gave the boy an order, and he complained, but she put her foot down, saying clearly. "Lakil, now." The boy muttered unintelligibly, but departed through the tunnel.
When the woman turned back to find him staring, she stepped forward and jabbed her sword in the air in the direction of the top of the staircase. "Up!" She told him in Arabic, then in English, "Upstairs, right now." Jacobs turned back to the staircase, grumbling angrily.
At the top, he tried to make a dash for it, but the tall man anticipated his move. He got exactly three running steps from the doorway when the staff of the man's ax hit him on the side of the knees, and he went down. The man stood above him with one ax blade pressed to the back of his neck, growling threats in that language he'd never heard before. Anderson and Martens stepped out of the doorway, the lady right behind them, sword still drawn, and backed into a wall, signifying that, no sir, they wouldn't be trying to escape, thankyouverymuch. The woman pointed with her sword at the door and told them to go outside, slowly if you don't mind, then translated for the benefit of the man threatening his neck. Jacobs waited for the cold steel to leave his skin before crawling a few feet away and getting to his feet.
Outside, the scenery had visibly changed. All the buildings were as they had been, but a small group of six children stood by one corner. They were dressed in a similar style to the two adults, and ranged from ages four to eight, Jacobs guessed. He took a moment to notice that they all had a beetle-like brooch on their clothes, matching the one on the lady's shoulder except these were all a bluish-black, where hers was a shiny red color. However, his attention wavered from the children as he spotted the dogs that stood around the edges of the square. They were fierce-looking things, jackals with black fur and all teeth and claws. Some lay relaxed, sprawled and panting in the sand and the sun, while others stood vigilant, growling, it seemed, at Jacobs alone. The lady snapped at him to stop gawking and go stand in the road. Anderson and Martens joined him quickly.
He turned and looked at the two adults, who glared at him angrily. "Listen, lady." Jacobs began, starting to feel as though he really might not get through this intact after all. "We didn't know y'all were livin' here, or we never woulda come." Yeah, right. "If you just let us go now, we'll head on back to Cairo, be gone before y'know it and never come back." Like hell. "We won't take any of your treasure." While you're looking. "We won't tell anyone where this place is." Until they buy us a few drinks.
"The lady looked at him long and hard. "How did you get here in the first place?" She asked him, obviously not trusting him. "How many of you are there?" Her sword was still at the ready, and Jacobs eyed it before answering.
"We, uh- we found this laborer guy in Cairo who said he was on a dig here nine or ten years back. Another guy confirmed it, said he was there too at the same time. There's eight of us all together."
"Oh, bother." The lady said. "I thought all the workers died when . . . ah, too late now. Where are you camped?"
Jacobs looked at her, confidence coming back a little now that her sword was pointed fully at the ground. "Why should I tell you? You'll probably just take all our stuff and kill-" He stopped as something whisked by his chest. He looked at the lady across from, who looked back at him with a pissed, scary expression on her face. He looked down and found to his horror that a large cut had been made in the fabric of his coat, right by his neck.
"Next time I'll draw blood. Talk."
"R-right. We're at an oasis out back. Some of the guys went 'round to the front gates this morning, and we went through the little back gate. Kaji- that's the little Arabian guy- he's back with the camp." The lady turned to her partner and spoke to him for a moment. He responded, then set off back towards the wall and the oasis. She then gestured at the children, calling out. "Marashea, come over here. The rest of you go home." One little girl, about six years old, came over to them, while the others headed down the path the way the tall man had gone. The lady sheathed her sword and knelt down to be on eye level with the little girl. "'Shea, honey, I want you to go and find your father, all right? And I need to borrow Cheepers for a moment."
"Kay, mamma." Marashea said. She brushed her hand over her shoulder and gave her beetle brooch to her mother, who must have light-fingered it somehow, because it disappeared. The little girl kissed her mother's cheek, and got a kiss on the forehead in return, then she ran off down one of the different paths. Her mother watched her go for a moment, then turned around as an agonized screech filled the air.
Jacobs had watched as Anderson started edging toward the woman while she was occupied with her daughter, but had left the dangerous attempt to his partner. Anderson had been reaching for the lady's shoulder, hoping to throw her to the ground and over-power her with his superior weight, but before his hand had touched her, he pulled back screaming.
The woman whirled around, checking to see who had yelled. She saw Anderson rolling on the sandy ground and went to kneel beside him. With a strength that bellied her thin frame, she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand into the air. Jacobs felt nausea sweep over him at the sight.
The little beetles were real, and the one the girl had given to her mother had latched its jaws onto the palm of the hand that had been reaching for her. The lady held out her hand beneath Anderson's struggling arm, saying in a scolding voice, "That's enough, Cheepers! Come here." The little black bug dropped obediently into her palm, and she put it on her shoulder with the red one. Now that Jacobs was paying attention, he could see the little red antennae moving in the air, and heard a little 'meep-meep' sound issue from it in between Anderson's groans. He looked back at his partner, horrified.
The woman had taken a rag from her pocket and ripped it into strips, and was now wrapping them around Anderson's bloody hand. "You should be glad he was only giving you a warning." She said.
"That was a warning?" Martens asked, sounding sick.
The woman nodded, still wrapping up the bloody hand. A part of the bite was still visible- some of the flesh of his palm was missing, and a lot more had been shredded. It would be horribly scarred. "Yes, this was a light warning, and Cheepers' way of protecting me. If you had been a more serious threat, Cheepers and Meep-Meep would have perhaps eaten all the flesh from your hand, leaving nothing but bone. A threat to my life, and they would have crawled under your skin to your neck and bitten through your spinal cord, killing you instantly." She said it with a small shudder, and on her shoulder, Jacobs heard an excited chittering noise from the little bugs. "You're lucky to have most everything still intact."
They sat in silence for a moment, while the woman finished bandaging Anderson's hand, until Turner entered the square and spotted them. "Hey, Anderson, I see you found somebody too! What happened, did ya fall down?" He came up to them and saw the bloody rags on his partner's hand. "What'd you do to him, you bitch?" He turned to the woman, reaching out to shake her shoulders, having not noticed the two bugs sitting there. Martens caught his hand in time, looking very pale.
"I really suggest you don't touch her." He said, looking Turner in the eye. There was silence in the square until the rest of Turner's party entered. Jacobs looked up as O'Connell yelled.
"Evelyn?"
The woman looked up and saw O'Connell. So this was his ex-fiancée, huh? "Rick!" She cried, standing and running to him. He swept her into a giant hug, both of them laughing joyfully. She pulled back to arms' length to look at him. "Rick, what are you doing way out here, I thought you went to America?"
"Well, last I checked, you were in London." He replied, grinning. He pulled her into another hug, chuckling. "Great to see you, Evy. I'm glad you're here, too, maybe you can talk some sense into these knuckleheads."
She pulled away and looked over his shoulder at Smith and Jones standing behind him, along with two other men Jacobs didn't know. One of them wore casual modern clothing, but the other was dressed like those desert raiders that had scared the shit out of them the day before. Evy looked at the white man. "Jonathan, Raj, you two better not be drunk. I'll have your hides if you've been slacking off."
The white man, the one in modern clothing, looked at her imploringly. "Please, old mum, it's so bloody hot out here-"
"And you'll not swear in my presence either." Evy cut in. She turned back to O'Connell. "One of your friends is hurt and I need to take him back to my home here to clean him up properly. Would you like to come along?"
O'Connell looked back towards Jacobs and Martens and spotted Anderson sitting on the ground, holding his hand. "Sure." He replied, looking round at the square. "This is a neat place you got here; I don't remember any of these- holy shit!" He cut off, looking back towards the houses. The tall man had returned, carrying a struggling Kaji over one shoulder and his weapon over the other. O'Connell took one look at the guy and went for his gun. Jacobs watched, confused, as Evy stopped him. The tall man dropped Kaji on the ground beside Martens, smirked at Anderson, and walked up to Evy and O'Connell. "Evy, what the hell is-" O'Connell started, but she cut him off with a glance. The tall man spoke to her in that language and she answered back in the same tongue. The look on O'Connell's face was amusing as he watched the conversation between the two of them.
"Evy, what is that guy doing alive?" O'Connell asked. "I thought we got rid of him for good last time we saw him!" His gun was still out, but the tall guy just looked amused.
"Relax, Rick. I accidentally raised him when I was cleaning out the temple of Osiris, but the Hom-dai had been lifted. He's quite a nice man without the curse- it was controlling him when we killed him, which is why he was killing people all the time. He's been alive nearly the whole time since I last saw you." O'Connell's gun didn't waver. "Rick you can't kill him because he- well, because he still has his powers for starters, but, Rick, he's living like a normal person. He married a Medjai woman. Rick, he has children. Two little daughters and a son. He's not the same Imhotep you knew." As Evy spoke, O'Connell was eyeing the tall man like he was a volatile ghost or monster, not believing a word of what the woman said. When she finished, he turned his disbelieving gaze on her.
"You're sure?" He asked her skeptically.
"Well, I think I would have found out before now if he'd killed me." Evy answered wryly. "Honestly, I'm sure." Rick looked at the tall man- Imhotep, apparently- with obvious distrust, but reluctantly put the gun away. There was a moment of silence, broken by the approach of a large group of children and one adult. Jacobs recognized the girl in the lead as Marashea, Evy's daughter. The man striding behind resembled the dark- skinned one that had come with O'Connell and Jonathan, and wore the dark clothing that the desert warriors from the day before had worn. He also carried both sword and gun on his belt. He headed towards Evy and O'Connell, raising his hand and giving them that desert greeting. Evy, O'Connell, and Imhotep returned the gesture.
Turner, Smith, and Jones came to join Jacobs in the center of the square, having spotted the jackals around the edges. The six American treasure hunters observed the gaggle of children crowded around the five adults. Martens started edging towards one of the unused paths leading out of the square, but Smith grabbed his elbow. "I wouldn't. The City is a maze in its own right, and those creepy dogs have the run of the place. You'd either get lost and starve or be found by the dogs and eaten- those things only obey that lady Evy and the bald guy." Smith whispered, glancing back towards said people and at the dogs. Jacobs turned his attention from Smith to the others as O'Connell began to speak. He could just barely make out what was being said.
"Hey, Ardeth!" O'Connell had said, greeting the dark-haired warrior. Jacobs remembered the name from earlier conversation.
"My friend." The Medjai said in return, nodding his head. "It has been too long since we last crossed paths." He spoke English fluently, but with a heavy desert accent.
"Likewise." O'Connell said, smiling.
The Medjai turned to one of the men who had come into the square with O'Connell, another Medjai fellow. "This is my cousin, Raj. He lives here with us in the City, along with his wife Keiba, and eldest daughter, Kaya." O'Connell turned to greet the man warmly.
"Oh, that reminds me!" Evy said, looking over in Jacobs' direction, though he looked away before she caught him spying. "Ardeth, one of Rick's friends was hurt just a moment ago, and I want to take him back to the house to fix him up properly. Would you keep watch over the rest of them?"
Ardeth looked like he wanted to protest. He opened his mouth, but looked at Evy and closed it again. "Of course, Evelyn." He said instead, nodding his agreement. O'Connell looked at him, then Evy, with a funny expression on his face, but said nothing. Jacobs watched with interest as the woman- the only one he'd seen since Cairo- turned to the bald guy and gave him what Jacobs suspected was a rapid-fire recounting of the conversation in that other language that Jacobs was coming to hate. He couldn't figure out where the language was from; therefor, he couldn't figure out where the guy was from, and wouldn't know of any cultural weaknesses or personal peeves the man might have.
After the conversation had been recounted, Evy returned to the group of would-be treasure thieves, standing over them like a menace. "Come on, then. I'm still mad at the lot of you, but you'll be shown hospitality." She snapped at Jacobs. He had a sneaking suspicion that she knew he'd been watching her. She turned to Anderson and helped him to his feet, being a little gentler with him than before. "Up you come. If you'll follow me, I can clean and bandage that properly." She turned to the others. "But let this be a warning to the rest of you. There'll be no hostility or thievery from any of you, or I'll not fix you up when you've just tried to hurt someone and paid the consequences." She marched off, holding Anderson's elbow above his wounded hand.
The four strangers took up a guard and escort around Jacobs and the others, and he heard O'Connell mutter to himself, wondering what actually happened. Jacobs was quiet, knowing O'Connell wouldn't hear a word against his obviously insane, but beautiful, ex-fiancée. The Medjai, Ardeth, spoke in that other language to the bald man, who responded in kind, chuckling as he went. The guy had a sick sense of humor, but from what Jacobs could tell, he had once been a murderer on some type of rampage. Ardeth muttered back at O'Connell. "Scarab." Jacobs just about feinted at that. Those flesh- eating bug things were scarabs? Jacobs had always thought all that stuff was a load of crap, curses and evil beetles and magical warrior bodyguards. Egyptian myths, nothing more, right? Apparently not. Jacobs walked along the way they had first come in a daze, not paying much attention to anything. His mind was on overload.