Chap 4
Filled with a temporary sense of well being from Ra'id ministrations the night before, Ardeth prepared himself for the ride to meet O'Connell with relative ease the next morning. He was mounted on Sabeeh when Nabil and his men rode into the settlement and before the other commander could call out a greeting, he promptly gave the order to ride out, for time was of the essence.
They rode at a brutal pace, needing to cover as much ground as possible to arrive in Giza by noon but halfway through the trip, Ardeth began to feel the telltale signs of weakness. Slowly, his horse faded to the back of the group as his concentration worsened, something of which he wasn't aware until Nabil came riding along side him, having pulled his horse back as well.
"We have slowed down," Nabil stated the obvious.
"Yes," came his short reply.
"We need to ride faster or we'll never arrive in time for O'Connell's departure off the boat."
"We will make it," Ardeth replied and shifted in the saddle, his hand unconsciously resting on his injured thigh, as if by touch, he could rub away the pain. Ardeth watched Nabil glance down at the gesture and he clenched his teeth in annoyance waiting for the inevitable questions regarding his injury.
"Has it been bothering you?" Nabil asked.
"No," he snapped. "I'm fine."
"I say otherwise." Nabil ignored the clipped reply, more concerned with his friend's apparent exhaustion. "Anyone can plainly see you're not well."
"Leave it be," he ordered almost desperately. "As a brother, I ask this of you; please let it be."
"How can I, when this wound could cost you your life? The risk is too great.."
"The risk is mine and only mine to take. We must get the chest to O'Connell and shipped to England. Once it is safely in his hands," Ardeth paused to ignore a jolt of pain emitting from his thigh. "Then will I need help."
"Help?" Nabil asked.
"Help me get to the healers. I.I'm not sure if I can make it on my own," Ardeth said hoarsely, finally admitting that his body was slowly succumbing to the infection.
Nabil sighed, clearly not pleased with his decision. "Then you have my word, my friend."
They continued the journey in silence, at a pace that almost depleted what was left of Ardeth's waning strength.
The men arrived at the port a little before noon, and spurred their horses down into one of the side streets, quickly obscuring themselves from public view and any unwanted attention. With a silent gesture the commanders signaled their men to take their positions in case of attack and then dismounted. Ardeth couldn't help but cling to Sabeeh's saddle in an effort to stop himself from falling.
Quietly, Nabil came beside him and offered an arm of support, the two men communicating a silent understanding that Ardeth would somehow make it to the exchange.
They walked down the pier until they arrived at the boat, which had just recently docked and the warriors stood off to the side near some pallets as they waited patiently for any sign of O'Connell.
~*~
He had been waiting for most of the morning as instructed, watching to see when the warriors would arrive so he could alert Sued. He stayed behind the corner of one building, poking his head out to look around and when they finally rode into town, he did nothing but watch in awe and respect at their arrival. These warriors were what the stories and legends were made of; tales of bravery, sacrifice, and honor for the Medjai way of life. Finally seeing them in person immobilized the youth for a moment, making him forget his important duty which had him placed there in the first place. Wide-eyed, he watched as like silent shadows, they dispersed into the populace except for two of them walking towards the pier. He knew they were the commanders Sued had told him about.
Spinning on his heel, Waleed ran away from the building and darted down the street, running towards their temporary hiding place of the past few days.
"Sued!" cried the youth as he burst through the door. "They're here, just arrived."
Sued jumped up and grabbed a nearby burlap cloth. "Help me with this. We have no time to waste."
Quickly the two helpers covered the chest and prepared it for transport out to the boat.
~*~
Jahm had waited, like a vulture circling the skies in search of prey. He had orchestrated the attacks on the two Medjai tribes and had their precious commanders safely tucked away in his camp near the base of a low range of mountains. He was privy to all of their messages as he methodically replaced each Medjai with his own man and soon, he would move one of the final pieces into place. He was never one for playing foolish games, but he found the taste of this one suited him and the taste was something close to absolute power.
With supreme confidence, he had sent Kasim and Qutaybah to do his bidding in Cairo, while he returned to camp to gather his remaining forces for an assault. Each man had been assigned his prospective targets; Kasim would lead the first assault and while the Medjai were distracted, Qutaybah would retrieve the chest.
He knew that eventually the Medjai would find him and attack, in which case he wanted to be fully prepared for the battle which was inevitable.
Kill or be killed, it was the way of his life and he intended to be victorious.
~*~
Olivia Merriweather stood on the gangplank of the ship and closed her eyes briefly against the wave of heat that engulfed her, almost taking her breath away. She opened them a moment later to survey the crowded pier below, teeming with people, vendors, camels, livestock and only God knew what else. The bright beauty of the robin's egg blue sky overhead partnered with the full strength of the sun made the world below seem somehow golden, almost perfect. But Olivia knew better, having been fully versed on the dangerous side of visiting Cairo by her husband, Allan. Perfection was only an illusion and if not careful, one that could get a person killed.
Married for three months, the couple was on an extended honeymoon, traveling to exotic places around the world and coming to Egypt to visit the famous pyramids at Giza. Since the discovery made by a fellow Englishman named Howard Carter two years ago, it had become quite popular among the elite of London to visit and trek through the Sahara desert imagining themselves on a journey of discovery of their own.
Olivia felt the gentle pressure of Allan's hand on her elbow and that pulled her away from her musings, as it was silent command to continue and she slowly continued down the plank, until safely deposited on the pier near a cart loaded with luggage.
"Are you all right, love?" Allan's voice murmured in her ear. "Is this dreadful heat too much?"
Oliva shook her head and gave him a wan smile of assurance. "I'm fine."
"That's my girl," Allan praised. "Now where in the world did Midge run off too?"
The couple looked through the crowd until Olivia spotted the red haired woman finally descending the plank, her arms full of small bags. "Here she comes now, dear."
"Good. Stay here a moment, will you?" he asked. "I need to speak to Taheer about tonight's accommodations."
And before Olivia could answer, Allan was threading his way back through the crowd and up onto the ship, his focus centered on finding their tour guide.
A moment later, Midge Sinclair, newly hired personal maid and friend stood by her side, balancing a small valise in her arms while giving the rest of the bags to a nearby porter. Once free, she turned to Olivia and with an exasperated sigh, blew a stray curl from her face.
"Forgive me for saying, ma'am but it feels like we're standing in bloody hell, it does," she said.
Olivia gasped. "Midge, do watch your language, its most unladylike."
"Well then, rather warm isn't it..Ma'am?" Midge amended with a twinkle in her green eyes. The young woman's trait for being outspoken was a constant source of amusement to Olivia, a thorn in the side of manners for Allan. If Olivia ever guessed the truth behind matters, she would find out Allan only kept the maid around as a companion for his beautiful wife, so he could be free to run off and pursue other matters. Most importantly, who was playing at the gaming tables.
"Yes, it is," Olivia chuckled.
"Would you be wanting to change into something cooler once we reach the hotel?" Midge offered.
"That's a lovely idea. Meanwhile, perhaps you and I could." Olivia's idea for visiting the stall of a nearby vendor was suddenly interrupted when she spotted two men coming towards them and her eyes widened in surprise at their intimidating appearance.
They were dressed in black, three layers of clothing gathered at the waist with a sash and armed with bandoleers, pouches and scabbards with swords, slung over broad shoulders. They wore turbans but unlike the ones worn by the locals or the Bedouin she had seen in brochures, these were high in the front and it seemed the cloth they were made from wrapped down and around their faces, covering the features and leaving on the eyes visible.
The warriors had stopped near a stack of pallets, a few feet from where she was standing and the one man leaned against his companion for a moment, obviously taking the weight off a sore leg. She could hear them quietly talking to each other, but when one of them pulled down his face covering, she couldn't help but find him attractive. The warrior's long, ebony colored hair escaped the bottom of his turban to hang in heavy ringlets around his broad shoulders, and his cheeks were marked with dark, almost crescent shaped tattoos. His face was clean-shaven except for a full, thick mustache that graced his lips but the breath taking surprise came from his eyes, colored gray like the sky before a thunderstorm and Olivia felt helpless to stop her bold staring. She felt her face flush red with embarrassment when they made eye contact and she sighed over her appalling response. She was a married woman for goodness sake, not some young debutante flirting with a lord at an evening social.
"I see you've spotted the devil and his disciple," Midge whispered her observation of the two warriors.
"Hush," Olivia admonished. "They might hear you."
"I highly doubt it," the younger woman snorted in disbelief. "I don't believe they understand a word of English."
"Ignorance of our language is not an excuse for rudeness," Olivia gently chided.
"Nor is staring," Midge dryly quipped.
"I wasn't staring," she defended herself. "I was merely curious, end of subject. Now help me look for Allan, I don't see him anywhere on the ship's deck."
"Yes ma'am," and Midge shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she stood on tiptoe, straining to find her employer among the last of the passengers disembarking. Her eyes wandered over the last few people, resting on one particular man, who certainly seemed taller and bigger than most, and one eyebrow arched in silent appreciation of his handsome good looks.
~*~
While it may have only been a matter of a few minutes waiting for the American to come off the ship, to Nabil, it seemed like an eternity. His concentration was split between watching for O'Connell and keeping an apprehensive eye on Ardeth, whose condition was rapidly deteriorating. He felt Ardeth lean on him heavily for support.
As his alert gaze swept over the dock area, he noted with satisfaction that his men were at various strategic positions in case of attack. It then rested for a moment on two women who were standing to his left, a few feet away near a wagon full of luggage. He started to dismiss them as part of the never ending flow of tourists that came to Cairo each day, but instead, it lingered on one who seemed to be captivated by him. A quick assessment of her dress, mannerisms and speech declared her to be English, and he noted the one delicate hand holding an umbrella for shade. Too fragile to last very long in his desert world. Nabil turned his attention back to Ardeth, giving the English woman not another thought.
~*~
Ardeth rested heavily against Nabil, his breath coming in short gasps as he fought to remain conscious. He felt like he was suffocating; heat from his fevered body coming up in a wave under his face covering and he fought the urge to rip it off. He could feel droplets of sweat roll down his back and his knees started to tremble, all signs that he was dangerously ill, signs he had chosen to ignore until now. Ardeth blinked his eyes, in an effort to clear his vision and he suddenly realized Nabil had been talking to him, but the roaring in his ears had drowned out some of the words.
"..hear me?" Nabil repeated and placed a hand on his shoulder. He gasped and Ardeth knew that he must have felt the heart radiating from his body at the touch. "Merciful Allah..."
"Do not ...fear," he said, stopping any protest the other commander might have made. "I'm all right..for now."
Nabil frowned but repeated his statement. "O'Connell is coming off the ship."
"And the helpers?"
"They've been alerted and will arrive shortly," Nabil pointed at the road behind them. "Positioned over there with a few of my men."
"Good." Ardeth said weakly and suppressed a shudder from the chills racing through his body.
"I must say this," Nabil faced the other commander. "Do you know what you're asking of me? You jeopardize your life for this...
"Till death, remember my brother?" Ardeth pulled down his face covering and gave a small, sad smile. "I promise once we see this through...min fadkak, help me get to the healers."
Nabil slowly nodded his agreement. "Yes in shaa' allah."
Filled with a temporary sense of well being from Ra'id ministrations the night before, Ardeth prepared himself for the ride to meet O'Connell with relative ease the next morning. He was mounted on Sabeeh when Nabil and his men rode into the settlement and before the other commander could call out a greeting, he promptly gave the order to ride out, for time was of the essence.
They rode at a brutal pace, needing to cover as much ground as possible to arrive in Giza by noon but halfway through the trip, Ardeth began to feel the telltale signs of weakness. Slowly, his horse faded to the back of the group as his concentration worsened, something of which he wasn't aware until Nabil came riding along side him, having pulled his horse back as well.
"We have slowed down," Nabil stated the obvious.
"Yes," came his short reply.
"We need to ride faster or we'll never arrive in time for O'Connell's departure off the boat."
"We will make it," Ardeth replied and shifted in the saddle, his hand unconsciously resting on his injured thigh, as if by touch, he could rub away the pain. Ardeth watched Nabil glance down at the gesture and he clenched his teeth in annoyance waiting for the inevitable questions regarding his injury.
"Has it been bothering you?" Nabil asked.
"No," he snapped. "I'm fine."
"I say otherwise." Nabil ignored the clipped reply, more concerned with his friend's apparent exhaustion. "Anyone can plainly see you're not well."
"Leave it be," he ordered almost desperately. "As a brother, I ask this of you; please let it be."
"How can I, when this wound could cost you your life? The risk is too great.."
"The risk is mine and only mine to take. We must get the chest to O'Connell and shipped to England. Once it is safely in his hands," Ardeth paused to ignore a jolt of pain emitting from his thigh. "Then will I need help."
"Help?" Nabil asked.
"Help me get to the healers. I.I'm not sure if I can make it on my own," Ardeth said hoarsely, finally admitting that his body was slowly succumbing to the infection.
Nabil sighed, clearly not pleased with his decision. "Then you have my word, my friend."
They continued the journey in silence, at a pace that almost depleted what was left of Ardeth's waning strength.
The men arrived at the port a little before noon, and spurred their horses down into one of the side streets, quickly obscuring themselves from public view and any unwanted attention. With a silent gesture the commanders signaled their men to take their positions in case of attack and then dismounted. Ardeth couldn't help but cling to Sabeeh's saddle in an effort to stop himself from falling.
Quietly, Nabil came beside him and offered an arm of support, the two men communicating a silent understanding that Ardeth would somehow make it to the exchange.
They walked down the pier until they arrived at the boat, which had just recently docked and the warriors stood off to the side near some pallets as they waited patiently for any sign of O'Connell.
~*~
He had been waiting for most of the morning as instructed, watching to see when the warriors would arrive so he could alert Sued. He stayed behind the corner of one building, poking his head out to look around and when they finally rode into town, he did nothing but watch in awe and respect at their arrival. These warriors were what the stories and legends were made of; tales of bravery, sacrifice, and honor for the Medjai way of life. Finally seeing them in person immobilized the youth for a moment, making him forget his important duty which had him placed there in the first place. Wide-eyed, he watched as like silent shadows, they dispersed into the populace except for two of them walking towards the pier. He knew they were the commanders Sued had told him about.
Spinning on his heel, Waleed ran away from the building and darted down the street, running towards their temporary hiding place of the past few days.
"Sued!" cried the youth as he burst through the door. "They're here, just arrived."
Sued jumped up and grabbed a nearby burlap cloth. "Help me with this. We have no time to waste."
Quickly the two helpers covered the chest and prepared it for transport out to the boat.
~*~
Jahm had waited, like a vulture circling the skies in search of prey. He had orchestrated the attacks on the two Medjai tribes and had their precious commanders safely tucked away in his camp near the base of a low range of mountains. He was privy to all of their messages as he methodically replaced each Medjai with his own man and soon, he would move one of the final pieces into place. He was never one for playing foolish games, but he found the taste of this one suited him and the taste was something close to absolute power.
With supreme confidence, he had sent Kasim and Qutaybah to do his bidding in Cairo, while he returned to camp to gather his remaining forces for an assault. Each man had been assigned his prospective targets; Kasim would lead the first assault and while the Medjai were distracted, Qutaybah would retrieve the chest.
He knew that eventually the Medjai would find him and attack, in which case he wanted to be fully prepared for the battle which was inevitable.
Kill or be killed, it was the way of his life and he intended to be victorious.
~*~
Olivia Merriweather stood on the gangplank of the ship and closed her eyes briefly against the wave of heat that engulfed her, almost taking her breath away. She opened them a moment later to survey the crowded pier below, teeming with people, vendors, camels, livestock and only God knew what else. The bright beauty of the robin's egg blue sky overhead partnered with the full strength of the sun made the world below seem somehow golden, almost perfect. But Olivia knew better, having been fully versed on the dangerous side of visiting Cairo by her husband, Allan. Perfection was only an illusion and if not careful, one that could get a person killed.
Married for three months, the couple was on an extended honeymoon, traveling to exotic places around the world and coming to Egypt to visit the famous pyramids at Giza. Since the discovery made by a fellow Englishman named Howard Carter two years ago, it had become quite popular among the elite of London to visit and trek through the Sahara desert imagining themselves on a journey of discovery of their own.
Olivia felt the gentle pressure of Allan's hand on her elbow and that pulled her away from her musings, as it was silent command to continue and she slowly continued down the plank, until safely deposited on the pier near a cart loaded with luggage.
"Are you all right, love?" Allan's voice murmured in her ear. "Is this dreadful heat too much?"
Oliva shook her head and gave him a wan smile of assurance. "I'm fine."
"That's my girl," Allan praised. "Now where in the world did Midge run off too?"
The couple looked through the crowd until Olivia spotted the red haired woman finally descending the plank, her arms full of small bags. "Here she comes now, dear."
"Good. Stay here a moment, will you?" he asked. "I need to speak to Taheer about tonight's accommodations."
And before Olivia could answer, Allan was threading his way back through the crowd and up onto the ship, his focus centered on finding their tour guide.
A moment later, Midge Sinclair, newly hired personal maid and friend stood by her side, balancing a small valise in her arms while giving the rest of the bags to a nearby porter. Once free, she turned to Olivia and with an exasperated sigh, blew a stray curl from her face.
"Forgive me for saying, ma'am but it feels like we're standing in bloody hell, it does," she said.
Olivia gasped. "Midge, do watch your language, its most unladylike."
"Well then, rather warm isn't it..Ma'am?" Midge amended with a twinkle in her green eyes. The young woman's trait for being outspoken was a constant source of amusement to Olivia, a thorn in the side of manners for Allan. If Olivia ever guessed the truth behind matters, she would find out Allan only kept the maid around as a companion for his beautiful wife, so he could be free to run off and pursue other matters. Most importantly, who was playing at the gaming tables.
"Yes, it is," Olivia chuckled.
"Would you be wanting to change into something cooler once we reach the hotel?" Midge offered.
"That's a lovely idea. Meanwhile, perhaps you and I could." Olivia's idea for visiting the stall of a nearby vendor was suddenly interrupted when she spotted two men coming towards them and her eyes widened in surprise at their intimidating appearance.
They were dressed in black, three layers of clothing gathered at the waist with a sash and armed with bandoleers, pouches and scabbards with swords, slung over broad shoulders. They wore turbans but unlike the ones worn by the locals or the Bedouin she had seen in brochures, these were high in the front and it seemed the cloth they were made from wrapped down and around their faces, covering the features and leaving on the eyes visible.
The warriors had stopped near a stack of pallets, a few feet from where she was standing and the one man leaned against his companion for a moment, obviously taking the weight off a sore leg. She could hear them quietly talking to each other, but when one of them pulled down his face covering, she couldn't help but find him attractive. The warrior's long, ebony colored hair escaped the bottom of his turban to hang in heavy ringlets around his broad shoulders, and his cheeks were marked with dark, almost crescent shaped tattoos. His face was clean-shaven except for a full, thick mustache that graced his lips but the breath taking surprise came from his eyes, colored gray like the sky before a thunderstorm and Olivia felt helpless to stop her bold staring. She felt her face flush red with embarrassment when they made eye contact and she sighed over her appalling response. She was a married woman for goodness sake, not some young debutante flirting with a lord at an evening social.
"I see you've spotted the devil and his disciple," Midge whispered her observation of the two warriors.
"Hush," Olivia admonished. "They might hear you."
"I highly doubt it," the younger woman snorted in disbelief. "I don't believe they understand a word of English."
"Ignorance of our language is not an excuse for rudeness," Olivia gently chided.
"Nor is staring," Midge dryly quipped.
"I wasn't staring," she defended herself. "I was merely curious, end of subject. Now help me look for Allan, I don't see him anywhere on the ship's deck."
"Yes ma'am," and Midge shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she stood on tiptoe, straining to find her employer among the last of the passengers disembarking. Her eyes wandered over the last few people, resting on one particular man, who certainly seemed taller and bigger than most, and one eyebrow arched in silent appreciation of his handsome good looks.
~*~
While it may have only been a matter of a few minutes waiting for the American to come off the ship, to Nabil, it seemed like an eternity. His concentration was split between watching for O'Connell and keeping an apprehensive eye on Ardeth, whose condition was rapidly deteriorating. He felt Ardeth lean on him heavily for support.
As his alert gaze swept over the dock area, he noted with satisfaction that his men were at various strategic positions in case of attack. It then rested for a moment on two women who were standing to his left, a few feet away near a wagon full of luggage. He started to dismiss them as part of the never ending flow of tourists that came to Cairo each day, but instead, it lingered on one who seemed to be captivated by him. A quick assessment of her dress, mannerisms and speech declared her to be English, and he noted the one delicate hand holding an umbrella for shade. Too fragile to last very long in his desert world. Nabil turned his attention back to Ardeth, giving the English woman not another thought.
~*~
Ardeth rested heavily against Nabil, his breath coming in short gasps as he fought to remain conscious. He felt like he was suffocating; heat from his fevered body coming up in a wave under his face covering and he fought the urge to rip it off. He could feel droplets of sweat roll down his back and his knees started to tremble, all signs that he was dangerously ill, signs he had chosen to ignore until now. Ardeth blinked his eyes, in an effort to clear his vision and he suddenly realized Nabil had been talking to him, but the roaring in his ears had drowned out some of the words.
"..hear me?" Nabil repeated and placed a hand on his shoulder. He gasped and Ardeth knew that he must have felt the heart radiating from his body at the touch. "Merciful Allah..."
"Do not ...fear," he said, stopping any protest the other commander might have made. "I'm all right..for now."
Nabil frowned but repeated his statement. "O'Connell is coming off the ship."
"And the helpers?"
"They've been alerted and will arrive shortly," Nabil pointed at the road behind them. "Positioned over there with a few of my men."
"Good." Ardeth said weakly and suppressed a shudder from the chills racing through his body.
"I must say this," Nabil faced the other commander. "Do you know what you're asking of me? You jeopardize your life for this...
"Till death, remember my brother?" Ardeth pulled down his face covering and gave a small, sad smile. "I promise once we see this through...min fadkak, help me get to the healers."
Nabil slowly nodded his agreement. "Yes in shaa' allah."