I own and claim no rights to the motion picture, 'The Mummy,' or 'The Mummy
Returns.' Only characters not featured in either movie are created by me,
as well as the plot, and no similarities to any other fics are intended.
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Kidnapped
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Sithathor rose the next day to a screaming stomach, making it to the lavatory within seconds before she lost what little was left in her stomach to begin with. Afterwards she slouched against the cool porcelain of the large bathtub, one hand over her mouth, the other brushing through her hair in frustration. "Only an Englishman's child..." she whispered, trying to keep a small smile from forming on her lips. She massaged her belly lovingly and stood up from the bathroom floor. Washing her hands and rinsing out her mouth, she patted cool water on her face and then dried it with a small towel. Glancing once more to ensure that she didn't look a mess, she left the bathroom and moved straight to her wardrobe.
Selecting a casual black dress, a two piece, she shrugged off her night clothes, and put the dress on. In the weeks that had past, Evee and Cleo had struggled to bring Sithathor's mind into the twentieth century, instructing her on dress, mannerisms, and even decorative ideas for Alex and her home. Placing the shirt loosely over her body she turned and began folding the night clothes, frowning slightly, for she had no memory of selecting the garments. Before she could think on it more, she was interrupted by a knock on her bedroom door. With a hesitant, "Come in," from Hathy, the door opened.
A short, plump woman with graying brown hair walked briskly into the room, carrying new towels and a duster. Sithathor eyed her with confused puzzlement. The woman entered the bathroom, deposited towels, and then commenced with a thorough dusting, nodding toward Sithathor in respect, while the younger woman could only watch in bemused fascination.
As the woman circled around Hathy to dusk around the bed, Sithathor managed to emerge out of her puzzled state to inquire curiously, "Excuse me, but exactly who are you?"
The older woman's harsh looking face cracked into a motherly smile, and she paused for barely a second, and then continued on with her work, answering Hathy as she went along. "I am sorry Madame. My name is Agatha Grisby, your new housekeeper. My husband, Mr. Grisby and I were employed just this very morning by your husband, who insisted that we begin right away. Trust me, there is nothing keeping Henry and me from starting off quick as a flash, seeing as how our children are all grown up and Mr. Grisby and I lost our employment at a very nice estate after the holder died. Quite a nice man Mr. Ratcliffe was, may he rest in peace. But when the good Lord feels it is time for someone to go, then what can we do? I mean He took my father several years ago, along with my youngest son, God bless them. I hear you are from Egypt," Mrs. Grisby's direct change in subject surprised Sithathor, who had managed a pained smile through the older woman's revealing speech.
"Well...uh...yes actually, I am," Sithathor managed.
"Must be quite exciting living out in there, among the uncivilized heathens that live in the depths of the desert. I hear there is plenty of treasure and adventure in Egypt with all your Pharaohs and temples. Imagine, such a beautiful woman like yourself living in such a rough place. Look at you! You look like an Egyptian princess, all dark and mysterious. Just wait until I tell Erma that I am working for a rich gentleman and his Egyptian lady wife! She will be green with envy!" Agatha burst out, happily, and Sithathor wished for what seemed like the millionth time in the past few minutes that she had kept her mouth shut and let the woman go about her business without talking. Agatha, however, seemed eager to speak now that she had been given leave to, and did not hesitate in her flow of words. "So Mrs. O'Connell-do you wish for me to call you Mrs. O'Connell, or do you prefer Madame?" Sithathor opened her mouth, words failing her as her eyes widened in confusion. Mrs. Grisby continued on, "Well I guess I can call you both, that won't hurt any, I don't think. Your husband tried to get Mr. Grisby and me to call him by his Christian name, but we told him flat out, that we aren't like that with our employers, no sir. By the way Mrs. O'Connell, exactly in what part of Egypt did you live in?"
Sithathor paused, then said through gritted teeth, "Among the "uncivilized heathens" Mrs. Grisby."
Agatha Grisby smiled excitedly. "Is that a fact? Well bless my soul! Are you a desert princess?"
Sithathor's mind reeled between wanting to disliking her, but not being able to from the older woman's almost childlike manner. "Well, I guess you could say that...." Ardeth was a chieftain after all, so technically she would be considered something like that.
"Oh, my goodness! I can't wait until I tell Henry. Lord, he will be so proud that we have a job here, us working for a fine English gentleman and his desert princess wife!" She paused in her dusting and put her hands against her cheeks, the duster waved above her head, causing dust to rain down on her already graying hair. "Glory me! I forgot. Mr. O'Connell asked me to tell you that breakfast is ready, and to hurry down to eat. Quite a nice man, that Mr. O'Connell!"
"Yes," Sithathor agreed. She said goodbye to Mrs. Grisby and left the room, leaning against the door for several moments, before she could gather the energy to continue down the stairs. Goodness, she had never met anyone so wanting to speak! It was an uncomfortable experience, yet comical in a way. She reached the end of the stairs and past the library, glimpsing the figure of a uniform clad butler, looking at the books on the shelves. In the dinning room, she saw the figure of her husband reading a newspaper while absentmindedly eating some toast and fruit.
"You have hired some new servants," she began, seating herself comfortably on his right. Alex looked up from his paper, saw her sitting beside him and smiled. Putting the paper aside he took one of her hands in his and kissed her open palm. Eyeing him quizzically, Sithathor took some fruit from a platter and put it on her plate.
"Yes," Alex replied, watching her eat with what Sithathor felt was more than necessary attention.
"Mrs. Grisby seems like a nice woman...a bit talkative, yes, but I am sure she will work out," Sithathor murmured before taking a bite out of an apple. Chewing slowly, she glanced over to her husband again and again, as his gaze never once left her face. Exasperated, Hathy put the apple down with a loud plop, and glared at her husband, her temper slowly rising. Swallowing, she demanded, "What? Why are you staring at me like that?"
Alex only smiled wider. "I am sorry. I didn't realize."
Sithathor eyed him suspiciously. "Well it makes me feel uncomfortable."
"I'll try to stop," Alex assured her, while his gaze never faltered.
Sithathor took one more bit, chewed and swallowed. Staring at Alex until he averted his eyes, she then finished off the apple and then several grapes. Without waiting for him to finish, she stood up and hurried over to her training room. She wasn't surprised to see an older, balding man, staring up at the various swords, and weapons hanging on the wall.
"Mr. Grisby?" Sithathor enquired nicely.
Henry Grisby turned and viewed his new lady with respect and kindness. "Yes Madame. I am Henry Grisby. Mr. O'Connell has employed me to see to the inner workings of this house and to ensure that you and anyone else who resides her are happy within it."
"Well, thank you Mr. Grisby. But so you know right now, I am used to a much harder life than this. Right now I am beyond the sphere of contentment," Sithathor informed him.
Grisby smiled. "I am happy to hear it my lady. But I will ensure that it remains that way."
Sithathor walked past him and took two heavy blades from their hanging. Moving far enough away from Mr. Grisby so as not to hurt him, Sithathor twirled the blades in her hands, increasing speed until they were almost a blur. Throwing one of the swords into the air and catching it with one hand, she saluted Grisby. "It is great to have you here."
Walking around the slightly pale and speechless butler, she replaced the blades and left the room to get her hat and purse, leaving behind a slightly flustered Mr. Grisby, who still eyed the spot she had vacated with awe.
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Iset stared across the expanse of desert, her heart pounding in her chest. The sun raced over the sky, moving in the opposite pattern it should be following, and all she could do was watch its progress. Over and over again the sun rose in the west, and set in the east. The formations of the dunes changed with the sun, rising and falling, and then rising again as time seemed to hold still around Iset's form only. Without warning the sun slowed, and Iset saw what seemed to be a sand storm moving with increasing intensity toward her.
Wind blew her hair violently to and fro, as her eyes slowly began to widen to some unknown fear.
In the middle of the sand storm, atop a golden chariot stood a richly clad woman in golden jewelry, an Egyptian wig with gold ropes intertwined. Her face was nearly covered in a black veil, but the dark brown eyes that stared at Iset from so far away seemed to pierce through her painfully.
She turned fearfully away, then bent forward, clutching her throat and coughing hoarsely as it painfully squeezed. Suddenly, the wind around her stopped, and the pain in her throat disappeared. Straightening slowly, she glanced around her, searching for the woman on the chariot. A tingling sensation began at her feet, and was traveling upwards. Iset looked down and let out a silent scream as hundreds of scorpions and scarabs climbed slowly and menacingly up her body. "Help me! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
Iset shot straight up in bed, gasping in fear, her body covered in sweat. She looked beside her and viewed and empty bed. Searching the tent, she found it empty, the fire in the middle of the room burned out. She removed the covers from her body and rose to her feet, slipping into comfortable sandals. Wrapping a heavy quilt around her night gowned form, she headed toward the entrance of her tent, to search for her husband. From outside she heard a shout, and then screams of terrified women. She raced outside, only to view chaos. The entire camp was up and running this way and that, men hurrying to their horses as raiders rode through the village, setting several tents ablaze. The back of Iset's hand went over her mouth in shocked disbelief as see viewed the destruction of her village. Glancing around for the face of her husband, she instead frowned as she viewed Ahmes stumbling out of Sheret's tent. She watched her brother-in-law race over to his horse, and climb on top of it, his sword out, as he rode into the night.
Before she could question this further, she watched as the tent of her brother Userib was set on fire by one of the raider's horsemen. Iset watched as her brother and his wife moved away from the tent, Nyla's face tight with horror. Userib clutched his wife away from him, muttering words to her just before he left her, and mounted his horse, Nyla screaming at him to return, tears flowing down her face. Dodging several horsemen, Iset made her way over to Nyla, and took her hand. "Come sister, we must join the other women!"
"No," Nyla cried, trying to break Iset's hold on her, "I must stay with my husband. Our child...he must not die!"
"Nyla!" Iset yelled, turning to woman to face her. "My brother will not die. But right now all that matters to him and to me is that you and your child are safe and away from here."
Nyla continued to resist, pushing in the direction she last viewed her husband, but Iset had a firm hold on her hand. "Sister!" she said, grasping Nyla's face in her hands gently. "What would Userib want for you?"
Nyla paused, her body rigid. Softly, almost inaudible, she murmured, "For me to be safe."
Nodding, Iset put her hand out, and after a moment's hesitation, Nyla placed her hand in hers. Together they hurried toward the line of fleeing women, who were heading into the desert to hide and wait. Before they could reach them, they were cut off by two horsemen. They wore black robes with blood red scarves around their necks. "Where are you going little ones?" one of them asked sneeringly.
Nyla clutched Iset's hands in a painful grip, but Iset ignored the pain and stared up at them defiantly. Without warning Iset dropped her wrap and charged toward the horses, making them dance to the side in confusion. Losing her balance, Iset clutched the saddle strap of the nearest horse, as the offending horsemen tried to calm the skittish animals' down. Turning, Iset screamed, "Run Nyla! Run!"
Nyla glanced over at Iset uncertainly, but after that moment's hesitation she ran as fast as her pregnant body would allow. Iset struggled to get up, and managed to get onto her knees, and crawled away from the still moving horses. One of the horsemen growled in anger and jumped down from his steed. Taking Iset by the collar he picked her up, her feet dangling in mid-air, while she clutched his arms to keep herself from falling. He smiled, revealing two rows of rotting teeth. "That wasn't very nice, was it?"
Iset's nose wrinkled in disgust, and she spit in his face. He dropped her to the ground and made to hit her, Iset not shrinking away. Before his hand could touch her face, he was stopped by his friend. "Gyasi!"
Gyasi paused, and glanced impatiently over at the other man. "What Kheper?"
Kheper sidled up to Gyasi and nodded toward Iset. "We are to bring her to him unharmed."
Iset glanced between the men in confusion.
Gyasi glared at Iset one last time, then strode over to where her blanket lay. Shaking it, he brought it to Kheper, who held out his hand to Iset.
Iset backed away in silent disbelief that they would possibly think she would come willingly. Behind her, Gyasi tutted. Kheper smiled evilly down at her. "Come willingly woman, or..." He took a pistol from his saddle and Iset straightened in growing fear that increased as he pointed the gun in the opposite direction. Iset glanced over into the darkness to see what he was pointing at and the blood drained from her face. The retreating form of Nyla could be seen not all that far away, clutching her large belly in support. "No," Iset whispered.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and a touch of steel on her stomach. Gyasi whispered in her ear, "If that isn't enough incentive, I will cut you from navel to throat."
Iset's mind raced. Then, with all of the strength within her, she hit Gyasi hard in the stomach with her elbow, and then while he tried to double over, she brought her fist up and caught him in the face. Pushing backwards she forced him to fall onto the ground and raced past Kheper's horse, causing the animal to halfway rear up in fear. She heard Gyasi and Kheper cursing at her, but continued running toward the many retreating women, and the waddling form of Nyla. Moments later she heard the sound of hooves behind her, and increased her pace.
Apparently Nyla heard them too, for the woman looked behind her, and slowed her speed. She saw a frantically running Iset followed closely behind by the two raiders. Iset waved a hand at Nyla, "No, keep going Nyla, keeping going!"
Nyla continued, but glanced back as she heard a scream. She skidded to a stop, causing sand to fly. Turning she saw one of the men scoop Iset up onto his horse. Moving forward, Nyla's face filled with alarm, and she didn't know what to do. "ISET!" she screamed.
The horsemen continued toward Nyla, with Iset's screaming at her to run, but Nyla was petrified in fear. The riders came closer and closer, until one of them was almost upon her. His foot shot out, and hit Nyla on the side of her face. Iset watched in horror as her sister-in-law crumpled to the sand.
Fear mixed with anger, she glared over at Gyasi, for he was the one who had struck Nyla. "You bastard," she snarled. Unable to reach Gyasi, she attacked Kheper, the one who held her atop his horse. With a closed fist, she hit Kheper on the cheek with all her might, and the man cursed, as he almost lost the reins of his horse.
"You damn woman!" he cried.
Trying to keep a grip on the reigns and a hold on Iset, while also trying to block her blows, Kheper finally screamed in anger, and grabbed his pistol. He brought the pistol's handle crashing down on the back of Iset's skull, and the woman slumped forward onto his chest, unconscious. Gyasi rode up beside Kheper and glared at him.
Kheper grinned. "I am sure he won't mind a little bump!"
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Sithathor glanced over at Alex, and frowned. "Okay, you said that this was an Opera?" she asked, her mouth rolling over the last word awkwardly.
Alex looked at his wife and smiled. "Yes, an opera."
"Ah..." Sithathor said. "And it is all in Italian?"
Alex nodded. "Correct again."
"Ok," Sithathor muttered. "Then how do you expect me to understand what they are saying?"
Alex laughed. "You don't have to understand the language to know what is going on. A good opera piece can convey the story without words, simply by the flow of scenes and the interaction between characters."
Sithathor glanced at him skeptically. "Uh huh. If you say so."
She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up. Rick O'Connell grinned mischievously down at her. Sithathor smiled. "Well hello Rick!" She glanced behind him and waved at the elegantly dressed form of Evee, and the fidgeting Cleo, who was wearing another lace creation. "We were beginning to think that you all would never get here!"
Rick glanced back. "We had some baggage to take care of," he said softly.
Sithathor turned further in her seat and noticed the rumpled form of Jonathan. The older man was glancing around the balcony at the people there, no doubt to see who was who. Sithathor had learned that since his excursion to Ahm Shere, Jonathan had a lot of money to spend, and enjoyed every minute of spending it. He was not, however, discontinuing his con- man ways. She waved at Jonathan, and smiled at him kindly, a smile that he returned in his goofy way.
As the O'Connells and Jonathan took their seats, the lights began to dim, and the Orchestra began to play. Sithathor's eyes lit up with fascination as the curtain opened, and the scene before her exploded to life.
By the end of the evening Sithathor was chatting excitedly with Evee and Alex about their favorite parts of the Opera, while Rick tried to pry Jonathan away from a mildly confused looking man, whom Alex informed Sithathor was a minor government official. When Rick finally managed to get Jonathan away, they all headed to their cars, a hyper Cleo begging her parents to spend the night at her brother's home.
"Please mom!" she begged, her dark brown eyes moistening into an endearing expression.
Evee feigned a wince. "No!" she cried in fake horror. "Not the puppy-dog eyes, anything but the puppy-dog eyes, please."
To add effect, Cleo made her bottom lip tremble.
Rick came up beside his wife and sighed. "She is doing the lip thing! No one can resist Cleo's trembling bottom lip of power!"
Laughing, Evee and Rick gave Cleo permission, and Cleo joined Alex and Sithathor in their car. The three cars (Jonathan had come in his own) headed home, and honked goodnight just before separating for the short distance between each house. Cleo let out a victorious whoop and raced into Alex's home, as Alex helped Sithathor out of his car. Sithathor watched Cleo with a smile on her face.
"She really likes coming here," Alex said quietly.
"Yes," Sithathor agreed.
"Especially since you came here," he added.
"And don't forget the fact that I am training her as well," Sithathor reminded him.
Alex smiled. "Ah yes. That too!"
Sithathor proceeded Alex into the house, while Alex turned to close the door behind him.
He turned quickly back around when he heard a squeak in the floorboards nearby. His eyes widened as he viewed several robed men in his home. One stood behind his wife, holding a knife to her throat. The offending man motioned Alex to move, and led him slowly toward the living area. On one side of the room, Mr. and Mrs. Grisby sat tied up to chairs, their mouth's gagged, eyes widened in terror. On the opposite side, sitting on a couch was an unfamiliar man, surrounded by his soldiers. "Ah, Mr. O'Connell!" the man murmured, and stood, as his man entered with Sithathor. "And Mrs. O'Connell, it is a pleasure."
Sithathor could only glance around the room with her eyes, her face pale white.
Alex moved his hand slowly toward his jacket pocket where he had a small pistol, but bad guy shook his head.
"I wouldn't if I were you," he told him, and made a motion with his hand.
Another dark clad guard entered with a frightened Cleo. The guard held her with one hand on her shoulder, and a knife pressed under her chin.
"Leave her alone," Sithathor said calmly, her pale face belying her tone. "She is just a child."
"Yes," the leader said. "She is just a child. But she is also an O'Connell, and the man who hired us wants her." He smiled cruelly as his men grabbed Alex from behind, and began to beat him to the ground.
"ALEX!" Sithathor and Cleo cried.
One of the men knocked Alex painfully on the head, and the younger man stilled.
Cleo's face was wet with tears, and Sithathor's face flushed.
"That wasn't necessary!" Sithathor yelled.
"On the contrary, Lady Bey. It was quite necessary," the leader responded.
Sithathor felt a needle press into her neck, and a painful liquid fire in her veins. Her eyes widened for a second, while, almost as if far away, she heard Cleo scream. The world around her blurred, then slowly went black.
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A/N: Please review and tell me what you think. The end is drawing near now...at least for this story. Thanks for reviewing Wings of Dark!
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Kidnapped
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Sithathor rose the next day to a screaming stomach, making it to the lavatory within seconds before she lost what little was left in her stomach to begin with. Afterwards she slouched against the cool porcelain of the large bathtub, one hand over her mouth, the other brushing through her hair in frustration. "Only an Englishman's child..." she whispered, trying to keep a small smile from forming on her lips. She massaged her belly lovingly and stood up from the bathroom floor. Washing her hands and rinsing out her mouth, she patted cool water on her face and then dried it with a small towel. Glancing once more to ensure that she didn't look a mess, she left the bathroom and moved straight to her wardrobe.
Selecting a casual black dress, a two piece, she shrugged off her night clothes, and put the dress on. In the weeks that had past, Evee and Cleo had struggled to bring Sithathor's mind into the twentieth century, instructing her on dress, mannerisms, and even decorative ideas for Alex and her home. Placing the shirt loosely over her body she turned and began folding the night clothes, frowning slightly, for she had no memory of selecting the garments. Before she could think on it more, she was interrupted by a knock on her bedroom door. With a hesitant, "Come in," from Hathy, the door opened.
A short, plump woman with graying brown hair walked briskly into the room, carrying new towels and a duster. Sithathor eyed her with confused puzzlement. The woman entered the bathroom, deposited towels, and then commenced with a thorough dusting, nodding toward Sithathor in respect, while the younger woman could only watch in bemused fascination.
As the woman circled around Hathy to dusk around the bed, Sithathor managed to emerge out of her puzzled state to inquire curiously, "Excuse me, but exactly who are you?"
The older woman's harsh looking face cracked into a motherly smile, and she paused for barely a second, and then continued on with her work, answering Hathy as she went along. "I am sorry Madame. My name is Agatha Grisby, your new housekeeper. My husband, Mr. Grisby and I were employed just this very morning by your husband, who insisted that we begin right away. Trust me, there is nothing keeping Henry and me from starting off quick as a flash, seeing as how our children are all grown up and Mr. Grisby and I lost our employment at a very nice estate after the holder died. Quite a nice man Mr. Ratcliffe was, may he rest in peace. But when the good Lord feels it is time for someone to go, then what can we do? I mean He took my father several years ago, along with my youngest son, God bless them. I hear you are from Egypt," Mrs. Grisby's direct change in subject surprised Sithathor, who had managed a pained smile through the older woman's revealing speech.
"Well...uh...yes actually, I am," Sithathor managed.
"Must be quite exciting living out in there, among the uncivilized heathens that live in the depths of the desert. I hear there is plenty of treasure and adventure in Egypt with all your Pharaohs and temples. Imagine, such a beautiful woman like yourself living in such a rough place. Look at you! You look like an Egyptian princess, all dark and mysterious. Just wait until I tell Erma that I am working for a rich gentleman and his Egyptian lady wife! She will be green with envy!" Agatha burst out, happily, and Sithathor wished for what seemed like the millionth time in the past few minutes that she had kept her mouth shut and let the woman go about her business without talking. Agatha, however, seemed eager to speak now that she had been given leave to, and did not hesitate in her flow of words. "So Mrs. O'Connell-do you wish for me to call you Mrs. O'Connell, or do you prefer Madame?" Sithathor opened her mouth, words failing her as her eyes widened in confusion. Mrs. Grisby continued on, "Well I guess I can call you both, that won't hurt any, I don't think. Your husband tried to get Mr. Grisby and me to call him by his Christian name, but we told him flat out, that we aren't like that with our employers, no sir. By the way Mrs. O'Connell, exactly in what part of Egypt did you live in?"
Sithathor paused, then said through gritted teeth, "Among the "uncivilized heathens" Mrs. Grisby."
Agatha Grisby smiled excitedly. "Is that a fact? Well bless my soul! Are you a desert princess?"
Sithathor's mind reeled between wanting to disliking her, but not being able to from the older woman's almost childlike manner. "Well, I guess you could say that...." Ardeth was a chieftain after all, so technically she would be considered something like that.
"Oh, my goodness! I can't wait until I tell Henry. Lord, he will be so proud that we have a job here, us working for a fine English gentleman and his desert princess wife!" She paused in her dusting and put her hands against her cheeks, the duster waved above her head, causing dust to rain down on her already graying hair. "Glory me! I forgot. Mr. O'Connell asked me to tell you that breakfast is ready, and to hurry down to eat. Quite a nice man, that Mr. O'Connell!"
"Yes," Sithathor agreed. She said goodbye to Mrs. Grisby and left the room, leaning against the door for several moments, before she could gather the energy to continue down the stairs. Goodness, she had never met anyone so wanting to speak! It was an uncomfortable experience, yet comical in a way. She reached the end of the stairs and past the library, glimpsing the figure of a uniform clad butler, looking at the books on the shelves. In the dinning room, she saw the figure of her husband reading a newspaper while absentmindedly eating some toast and fruit.
"You have hired some new servants," she began, seating herself comfortably on his right. Alex looked up from his paper, saw her sitting beside him and smiled. Putting the paper aside he took one of her hands in his and kissed her open palm. Eyeing him quizzically, Sithathor took some fruit from a platter and put it on her plate.
"Yes," Alex replied, watching her eat with what Sithathor felt was more than necessary attention.
"Mrs. Grisby seems like a nice woman...a bit talkative, yes, but I am sure she will work out," Sithathor murmured before taking a bite out of an apple. Chewing slowly, she glanced over to her husband again and again, as his gaze never once left her face. Exasperated, Hathy put the apple down with a loud plop, and glared at her husband, her temper slowly rising. Swallowing, she demanded, "What? Why are you staring at me like that?"
Alex only smiled wider. "I am sorry. I didn't realize."
Sithathor eyed him suspiciously. "Well it makes me feel uncomfortable."
"I'll try to stop," Alex assured her, while his gaze never faltered.
Sithathor took one more bit, chewed and swallowed. Staring at Alex until he averted his eyes, she then finished off the apple and then several grapes. Without waiting for him to finish, she stood up and hurried over to her training room. She wasn't surprised to see an older, balding man, staring up at the various swords, and weapons hanging on the wall.
"Mr. Grisby?" Sithathor enquired nicely.
Henry Grisby turned and viewed his new lady with respect and kindness. "Yes Madame. I am Henry Grisby. Mr. O'Connell has employed me to see to the inner workings of this house and to ensure that you and anyone else who resides her are happy within it."
"Well, thank you Mr. Grisby. But so you know right now, I am used to a much harder life than this. Right now I am beyond the sphere of contentment," Sithathor informed him.
Grisby smiled. "I am happy to hear it my lady. But I will ensure that it remains that way."
Sithathor walked past him and took two heavy blades from their hanging. Moving far enough away from Mr. Grisby so as not to hurt him, Sithathor twirled the blades in her hands, increasing speed until they were almost a blur. Throwing one of the swords into the air and catching it with one hand, she saluted Grisby. "It is great to have you here."
Walking around the slightly pale and speechless butler, she replaced the blades and left the room to get her hat and purse, leaving behind a slightly flustered Mr. Grisby, who still eyed the spot she had vacated with awe.
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Iset stared across the expanse of desert, her heart pounding in her chest. The sun raced over the sky, moving in the opposite pattern it should be following, and all she could do was watch its progress. Over and over again the sun rose in the west, and set in the east. The formations of the dunes changed with the sun, rising and falling, and then rising again as time seemed to hold still around Iset's form only. Without warning the sun slowed, and Iset saw what seemed to be a sand storm moving with increasing intensity toward her.
Wind blew her hair violently to and fro, as her eyes slowly began to widen to some unknown fear.
In the middle of the sand storm, atop a golden chariot stood a richly clad woman in golden jewelry, an Egyptian wig with gold ropes intertwined. Her face was nearly covered in a black veil, but the dark brown eyes that stared at Iset from so far away seemed to pierce through her painfully.
She turned fearfully away, then bent forward, clutching her throat and coughing hoarsely as it painfully squeezed. Suddenly, the wind around her stopped, and the pain in her throat disappeared. Straightening slowly, she glanced around her, searching for the woman on the chariot. A tingling sensation began at her feet, and was traveling upwards. Iset looked down and let out a silent scream as hundreds of scorpions and scarabs climbed slowly and menacingly up her body. "Help me! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
Iset shot straight up in bed, gasping in fear, her body covered in sweat. She looked beside her and viewed and empty bed. Searching the tent, she found it empty, the fire in the middle of the room burned out. She removed the covers from her body and rose to her feet, slipping into comfortable sandals. Wrapping a heavy quilt around her night gowned form, she headed toward the entrance of her tent, to search for her husband. From outside she heard a shout, and then screams of terrified women. She raced outside, only to view chaos. The entire camp was up and running this way and that, men hurrying to their horses as raiders rode through the village, setting several tents ablaze. The back of Iset's hand went over her mouth in shocked disbelief as see viewed the destruction of her village. Glancing around for the face of her husband, she instead frowned as she viewed Ahmes stumbling out of Sheret's tent. She watched her brother-in-law race over to his horse, and climb on top of it, his sword out, as he rode into the night.
Before she could question this further, she watched as the tent of her brother Userib was set on fire by one of the raider's horsemen. Iset watched as her brother and his wife moved away from the tent, Nyla's face tight with horror. Userib clutched his wife away from him, muttering words to her just before he left her, and mounted his horse, Nyla screaming at him to return, tears flowing down her face. Dodging several horsemen, Iset made her way over to Nyla, and took her hand. "Come sister, we must join the other women!"
"No," Nyla cried, trying to break Iset's hold on her, "I must stay with my husband. Our child...he must not die!"
"Nyla!" Iset yelled, turning to woman to face her. "My brother will not die. But right now all that matters to him and to me is that you and your child are safe and away from here."
Nyla continued to resist, pushing in the direction she last viewed her husband, but Iset had a firm hold on her hand. "Sister!" she said, grasping Nyla's face in her hands gently. "What would Userib want for you?"
Nyla paused, her body rigid. Softly, almost inaudible, she murmured, "For me to be safe."
Nodding, Iset put her hand out, and after a moment's hesitation, Nyla placed her hand in hers. Together they hurried toward the line of fleeing women, who were heading into the desert to hide and wait. Before they could reach them, they were cut off by two horsemen. They wore black robes with blood red scarves around their necks. "Where are you going little ones?" one of them asked sneeringly.
Nyla clutched Iset's hands in a painful grip, but Iset ignored the pain and stared up at them defiantly. Without warning Iset dropped her wrap and charged toward the horses, making them dance to the side in confusion. Losing her balance, Iset clutched the saddle strap of the nearest horse, as the offending horsemen tried to calm the skittish animals' down. Turning, Iset screamed, "Run Nyla! Run!"
Nyla glanced over at Iset uncertainly, but after that moment's hesitation she ran as fast as her pregnant body would allow. Iset struggled to get up, and managed to get onto her knees, and crawled away from the still moving horses. One of the horsemen growled in anger and jumped down from his steed. Taking Iset by the collar he picked her up, her feet dangling in mid-air, while she clutched his arms to keep herself from falling. He smiled, revealing two rows of rotting teeth. "That wasn't very nice, was it?"
Iset's nose wrinkled in disgust, and she spit in his face. He dropped her to the ground and made to hit her, Iset not shrinking away. Before his hand could touch her face, he was stopped by his friend. "Gyasi!"
Gyasi paused, and glanced impatiently over at the other man. "What Kheper?"
Kheper sidled up to Gyasi and nodded toward Iset. "We are to bring her to him unharmed."
Iset glanced between the men in confusion.
Gyasi glared at Iset one last time, then strode over to where her blanket lay. Shaking it, he brought it to Kheper, who held out his hand to Iset.
Iset backed away in silent disbelief that they would possibly think she would come willingly. Behind her, Gyasi tutted. Kheper smiled evilly down at her. "Come willingly woman, or..." He took a pistol from his saddle and Iset straightened in growing fear that increased as he pointed the gun in the opposite direction. Iset glanced over into the darkness to see what he was pointing at and the blood drained from her face. The retreating form of Nyla could be seen not all that far away, clutching her large belly in support. "No," Iset whispered.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and a touch of steel on her stomach. Gyasi whispered in her ear, "If that isn't enough incentive, I will cut you from navel to throat."
Iset's mind raced. Then, with all of the strength within her, she hit Gyasi hard in the stomach with her elbow, and then while he tried to double over, she brought her fist up and caught him in the face. Pushing backwards she forced him to fall onto the ground and raced past Kheper's horse, causing the animal to halfway rear up in fear. She heard Gyasi and Kheper cursing at her, but continued running toward the many retreating women, and the waddling form of Nyla. Moments later she heard the sound of hooves behind her, and increased her pace.
Apparently Nyla heard them too, for the woman looked behind her, and slowed her speed. She saw a frantically running Iset followed closely behind by the two raiders. Iset waved a hand at Nyla, "No, keep going Nyla, keeping going!"
Nyla continued, but glanced back as she heard a scream. She skidded to a stop, causing sand to fly. Turning she saw one of the men scoop Iset up onto his horse. Moving forward, Nyla's face filled with alarm, and she didn't know what to do. "ISET!" she screamed.
The horsemen continued toward Nyla, with Iset's screaming at her to run, but Nyla was petrified in fear. The riders came closer and closer, until one of them was almost upon her. His foot shot out, and hit Nyla on the side of her face. Iset watched in horror as her sister-in-law crumpled to the sand.
Fear mixed with anger, she glared over at Gyasi, for he was the one who had struck Nyla. "You bastard," she snarled. Unable to reach Gyasi, she attacked Kheper, the one who held her atop his horse. With a closed fist, she hit Kheper on the cheek with all her might, and the man cursed, as he almost lost the reins of his horse.
"You damn woman!" he cried.
Trying to keep a grip on the reigns and a hold on Iset, while also trying to block her blows, Kheper finally screamed in anger, and grabbed his pistol. He brought the pistol's handle crashing down on the back of Iset's skull, and the woman slumped forward onto his chest, unconscious. Gyasi rode up beside Kheper and glared at him.
Kheper grinned. "I am sure he won't mind a little bump!"
.....................................................
Sithathor glanced over at Alex, and frowned. "Okay, you said that this was an Opera?" she asked, her mouth rolling over the last word awkwardly.
Alex looked at his wife and smiled. "Yes, an opera."
"Ah..." Sithathor said. "And it is all in Italian?"
Alex nodded. "Correct again."
"Ok," Sithathor muttered. "Then how do you expect me to understand what they are saying?"
Alex laughed. "You don't have to understand the language to know what is going on. A good opera piece can convey the story without words, simply by the flow of scenes and the interaction between characters."
Sithathor glanced at him skeptically. "Uh huh. If you say so."
She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up. Rick O'Connell grinned mischievously down at her. Sithathor smiled. "Well hello Rick!" She glanced behind him and waved at the elegantly dressed form of Evee, and the fidgeting Cleo, who was wearing another lace creation. "We were beginning to think that you all would never get here!"
Rick glanced back. "We had some baggage to take care of," he said softly.
Sithathor turned further in her seat and noticed the rumpled form of Jonathan. The older man was glancing around the balcony at the people there, no doubt to see who was who. Sithathor had learned that since his excursion to Ahm Shere, Jonathan had a lot of money to spend, and enjoyed every minute of spending it. He was not, however, discontinuing his con- man ways. She waved at Jonathan, and smiled at him kindly, a smile that he returned in his goofy way.
As the O'Connells and Jonathan took their seats, the lights began to dim, and the Orchestra began to play. Sithathor's eyes lit up with fascination as the curtain opened, and the scene before her exploded to life.
By the end of the evening Sithathor was chatting excitedly with Evee and Alex about their favorite parts of the Opera, while Rick tried to pry Jonathan away from a mildly confused looking man, whom Alex informed Sithathor was a minor government official. When Rick finally managed to get Jonathan away, they all headed to their cars, a hyper Cleo begging her parents to spend the night at her brother's home.
"Please mom!" she begged, her dark brown eyes moistening into an endearing expression.
Evee feigned a wince. "No!" she cried in fake horror. "Not the puppy-dog eyes, anything but the puppy-dog eyes, please."
To add effect, Cleo made her bottom lip tremble.
Rick came up beside his wife and sighed. "She is doing the lip thing! No one can resist Cleo's trembling bottom lip of power!"
Laughing, Evee and Rick gave Cleo permission, and Cleo joined Alex and Sithathor in their car. The three cars (Jonathan had come in his own) headed home, and honked goodnight just before separating for the short distance between each house. Cleo let out a victorious whoop and raced into Alex's home, as Alex helped Sithathor out of his car. Sithathor watched Cleo with a smile on her face.
"She really likes coming here," Alex said quietly.
"Yes," Sithathor agreed.
"Especially since you came here," he added.
"And don't forget the fact that I am training her as well," Sithathor reminded him.
Alex smiled. "Ah yes. That too!"
Sithathor proceeded Alex into the house, while Alex turned to close the door behind him.
He turned quickly back around when he heard a squeak in the floorboards nearby. His eyes widened as he viewed several robed men in his home. One stood behind his wife, holding a knife to her throat. The offending man motioned Alex to move, and led him slowly toward the living area. On one side of the room, Mr. and Mrs. Grisby sat tied up to chairs, their mouth's gagged, eyes widened in terror. On the opposite side, sitting on a couch was an unfamiliar man, surrounded by his soldiers. "Ah, Mr. O'Connell!" the man murmured, and stood, as his man entered with Sithathor. "And Mrs. O'Connell, it is a pleasure."
Sithathor could only glance around the room with her eyes, her face pale white.
Alex moved his hand slowly toward his jacket pocket where he had a small pistol, but bad guy shook his head.
"I wouldn't if I were you," he told him, and made a motion with his hand.
Another dark clad guard entered with a frightened Cleo. The guard held her with one hand on her shoulder, and a knife pressed under her chin.
"Leave her alone," Sithathor said calmly, her pale face belying her tone. "She is just a child."
"Yes," the leader said. "She is just a child. But she is also an O'Connell, and the man who hired us wants her." He smiled cruelly as his men grabbed Alex from behind, and began to beat him to the ground.
"ALEX!" Sithathor and Cleo cried.
One of the men knocked Alex painfully on the head, and the younger man stilled.
Cleo's face was wet with tears, and Sithathor's face flushed.
"That wasn't necessary!" Sithathor yelled.
"On the contrary, Lady Bey. It was quite necessary," the leader responded.
Sithathor felt a needle press into her neck, and a painful liquid fire in her veins. Her eyes widened for a second, while, almost as if far away, she heard Cleo scream. The world around her blurred, then slowly went black.
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A/N: Please review and tell me what you think. The end is drawing near now...at least for this story. Thanks for reviewing Wings of Dark!