Chap 9
Jahm stood outside his tent, watching the sun sink down over the horizon like a giant orange ball of fire, waiting for the return of his seconds. He looked around in smug satisfaction, believing the camp was perfectly situated since it was beyond Sahara el Gharbiya and at the edge of the Great Sand Sea. He had chosen this area believing from a tactical advantage; his men were protected from any of the attacks he knew the Medjai would mount. However satisfaction was fleeting since learning two of his couriers were missing and he crumbled the message in one hand.
"Soon," he whispered and touched the scar on his face in anticipation of killing his most hated foes. "The game will end."
A sentry's cry caught his attention and he saw Kasim's men ride through the numerous tents until they came to Jahm's, which was conveniently situated on a tall dune overlooking the entire area. The leader waited, watching as Kasim gave the order to dismount, then had the captives pulled off their horses and brought before him, thrown unceremoniously down to the sand in submission.
Jahm's cold lifeless eyes swept over the woman, lingering on her pale face, then contemptuously raked over the semi-conscious Medjai. His lips curled back in an evil parody of a smile when he saw the warrior's blood soaked robes.
"I see at least one of my trusted seconds obey my commands, although I admit," he said cryptically. "I am curious why you brought me a woman?"
"My chief." Kasim bowed his head subserviently. "She was taken to offset a loss." Before the leader could question, he quickly told him of the events two days past and the reasoning behind her abduction.
"My men and I thought to…" Kasim hurried to finish his explanation but was backhanded across the face.
"You do not think," Jahm thundered. "You obey and when you do not, punishment will be dealt accordingly. Convince me why I shouldn't reprimand you for your stupidity? Did you not think the authorities would send out patrols looking for her?"
"We thought to sell her at the slave auction."
"And what has changed that thinking?" Jahm asked shrewdly.
"I am keeping her for my own."
Jahm's mercurial emotions switched and he suddenly laughed out loud. "The needs of the body outweigh the consequences of disobedience, eh?"
The men heard the woman's gasp of outrage but Kasim chose to ignore it for the moment. "Yes."
Jahm thoughtfully scratched his chin. "Your honesty is refreshing, I will admit. Take the Medjai to the prisoners' tent and put the woman in another for now, until I decide their fates."
"Yes my chief," Kasim reluctantly obeyed.
"Be forewarned; you are accountable for her actions. If any trouble arises, I hold you responsible. Do not disappoint me." Jahm said.
He dismissed his second with a wave of his hand, and then he turned and went inside his tent. He was instantly met with mocking laughter that emanated from one of the corners.
"One returns but not the one you seek."
"Have you nothing better to do than to spy on me, Nubian?" Jahm snapped.
"Merely an observer for our employer and protecting our interests." The man stepped from the shadows, the smile slipped from his lips and was replaced by a sneer of disdain. "Where is the chest?"
Jahm ignored the question and walked over to small table stationed off to the side. He picked up a water pouch and drank deeply, purposely keeping the other man waiting for his reply. He didn't have an answer at the moment and not only was this a stall tactic but he knew it would annoy his ever-present shadow.
"It will be here shortly."
The other man gave a small dry laugh. "The answer never changes, just the hours of the day."
"I have men positioned to watch for Qutaybah. He is late but will return. You have no faith in my men?" Jahm asked and faced the other man.
"Do you?"
"Choose your words carefully, Loch-nah…" Jahm warned and rested his hand on his sword.
The Nubian moved away from the leader and paused in the tent's entrance. He smirked over the veiled threat and murmured before leaving, "As carefully as you've chosen your men, of course."
~*~
Aliyy crouched down and peered through a small slice in the canvas, just as he had done since his abduction several days ago. He used the opening to spy on any activity in the camp as means of gathering useful information; any advantage over the enemy to be exploited. He found out the guards were prone to talking and he learned much from eavesdropping on those conversations.
"What do you see?" Wajeeh asked. He knelt down behind Aliyy and looked over his friend's shoulder, concern reflected in his eyes.
"They've brought in two more captives. And one is Medjai."
The two men watched the one they knew as the leader berate his second in command and order the captives to be taken away. The struggling woman was shoved into a nearby tent, the warrior hauled away by two guards and Aliyy moved away from the opening.
"They are coming this way," he warned.
He moved away from the canvas with his friend beside him and stood defiantly in the center of the tent. Lessons from the previous days had taught them their guards took great delight in mistreating their prisoners. Several altercations as well as escape attempts had resulted in both men being beaten but nothing diminished their determination.
Freedom was the risk they would gladly take with their lives.
Suddenly one tent flap was thrown open and two guards aimed their rifles at the warriors while two more dragged in a limp body. It was thrown onto the hard ground, like a piece of refuse and given no more consideration than an annoying insect. The two armed men remained tense and alert as their comrades cautiously exited the tent, the rifle sights aimed squarely on each warrior.
"There's another of your kind, Medjai dogs." One of them said as the men left the tent. He gestured menacingly at Wajeeh as if to antagonize him but the warrior remained impassive. The only acknowledgement the commander gave was the promise of retribution that glittered in his dark eyes.
"I doubt he live till morning," the guard taunted, shaken by Wajeeh's cold stare and quickly left.
Aliyy resumed his position at the canvas but Wajeeh rushed over to the fallen warrior's side and gently turned over the body.
"Who is it?" Aliyy asked.
"Merciful Allah, it is Nabil," Wajeeh murmured as his hands gently sought out the wound on the commander's shoulder. He peeled back the bloody robe, frowning in confusion when a stained scrap of material fell away from the injury and tumbled to the ground.
"Is he alive?"
"Barely. He is weak and feverish," Wajeeh bent closer to examine the wound. He began tearing strips from his robe and wrapped them around the shoulder as Nabil's eyes fluttered open.
"Wajeeh…" he confirmed in a weak voice.
"Aiwa, al saaHib."
"What is this place?" Nabil shifted his body on the sand and looked around the tent until he saw Aliyy still standing off to the side. Surprise flared up in his eyes in seeing the missing commander. "We had thought you were both dead."
"Our keeper Jahm has tried to break our bodies as well as our spirits, but we have persevered. We live each day and fight for each tomorrow. Tell me, what has happened during our imprisonment? Did the American come for the chest?" Wajeeh asked.
"I believe the chest is gone…taken two days ago at Giza. Exchange was set up for an ambush…attacked…Ardeth missing as well as the American." Nabil's temporary burst of strength started to wan quickly as he relayed the tragic events at Giza.
"Ardeth missing?" Wajeeh shook his head. "He was not well when last I saw him…"
"He wanted me to take…him to a healer after the chest was safely on its way to England." Nabil said softly. "Now I fear it is too…late."
"Where is the chest now?" Aliyy asked.
Before Nabil could answer, a sudden commotion outside captured the commander's attention and Wajeeh joined Aliyy back at the opening. Another group of men had just ridden into camp and stopped before the leader's tent. One man dismounted, gestured for something to be brought forward and knelt down on one knee in greeting before Jahm. Words were hard to distinguish from a distance but the two warriors recognized the bulky object that was brought forward with a flourish and placed on the ground next to the genuflecting man. The crowd seemed to hold their breath, waiting to see the reaction from their leader.
Jahm raised his hands in the air and the group went wild, guns firing into the air as the men gave their war cries of victory. Over the jubilation no one seemed to notice when the leader pulled out his own gun and shot the man in the head. The body toppled over onto the sand and Jahm calmly walked around it, eager to see the spoils his victory had earned. He signaled for the body to be taken away and bent down, slowly pulling off the covering and examining the inscriptions on top of the chest. Satisfied, he motioned for it to be brought into his tent and walked inside, away from the celebration.
"This man Jahm has no honor." Aliyy observed quietly. "He rules these men more viciously than his predecessors and has become very powerful."
"With the chest, he will most likely attack the City of the Dead and raise the priest. If that happens, my brother, he will become invincible." Wajeeh said.
Nabil shifted on the sand again and could barely contain the moan of pain that slid past his clenched teeth.
Wajeeh looked at the younger commander with a worried frown, then leaned over and spoke to Aliyy in a low voice.
"I do not know what has transpired between you and Nabil but I strongly suggest you make your peace with him soon. It will be the will of Allah if he lives through the night."
Aliyy hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked over and knelt down beside the younger commander, the expression on his face unreadable. His reluctance was apparent but he shifted his body and sat down cross-legged on the sand.
Finally he reached out and gently touched Nabil's shoulder. "My brother…"
Nabil returned the greeting but refused to meet the other commander's gaze.
"Twelve summers ago, you approached me with questions of your father. I reacted foolishly and refused your request. Your appearance startled me and invoked memories of a time I had struggled to forget and place behind me. I must ask for your forgiveness over my behavior."
"There is…nothing to forgive. My father was Yusef, warrior of the Eleventh, married to Aleaha my mother. What questions I had have long been…forgotten." Nabil said.
"Yusuf was a good warrior and is greatly missed by his brothers, may Allah rest his soul. Both your parents loved you as if you were flesh of their flesh, blood of their blood. But I hold the knowledge of another man, your real father and of your mother…who was my betrothed. Ask me the same question and I will gladly answer it. The time has come for you to know your heritage."
Nabil's eyes closed for a moment and Aliiy feared the younger man has slipped into unconsciousness. He gently touched Nabil's arm.
"Ask me once more," he quietly urged.
"I ask you now of what I had asked then…do you know who my real father was?"
~*~
Voices. Soft, high in pitch, most likely feminine voices.
He heard them as the cloud of unconsciousness lifted and awareness returned. Ardeth shifted on the pallet, automatically testing his injured leg and tensing for the subsequent pain that followed. Instead, it was a dull, almost bearable ache and he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt tired and as weak as a baby but the release from the continual agony he had dealt with since leaving England almost made him whisper a heartfelt prayer of thanks to Allah.
"You can argue as much as you like, sister," a voice said. "But I shall not tend to him. Every time I do, I'm either getting stabbed or he's scaring me into a corner."
A second voice responded with a laugh. "I can see you remember your recently taken oath."
Suddenly Ardeth felt the soft, wet texture of a cloth on his chest, gently wiping away the sweaty residue from his fever and he felt himself relax under the almost tender ministrations. It swirled around in ever increasing circles, slow and steady until it swept up over his shoulders and back down again.
The second voice spoke again. "I suggest since Asiya seems to be the only one who can make him behave and seems to like him…I nominate her to be his only care giver."
A soft laugh breathed over his shoulder and he heard a moment later the voice he recognized from when he battled the demons of his mind. It was like a beacon of light, a rock of sanctuary which to hold onto and he would never forget its sensual pitch or timbre.
"I suggest for the both of you to finish your chores for the day. I shall sit with the warrior for now."
Ardeth heard the others leave, felt her move away and slowly opened his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the bright warm sunshine that poured through an open window near the end of the pallet. He saw her walking over to a stand at the other end of the room, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips beneath her robes, the long thick braid of hair that hung down her back as it swung back and forth with each step. He watched as she refilled a basin with fresh water, graceful and fluid in motion. She turned around, a soft smile lighting up her face when she saw him awake.
"SabaaH il xeer" She called out a greeting and came back to sit down by the bedside.
"SabaaH in nuur." Ardeth returned, his voice cracking slightly from lack of use but more from being captivated by her eyes; colored like mahogany, with light flecks of gold.
"Would you like something to drink?" She asked and began to bathe him again.
Ardeth's response was momentarily forgotten when she started to sponge his chest again and he closed his eyes under the tender cleansing. They popped open a moment later when he caught the distinctive whiff of the familiar fragrance of jasmine.
"Do I smell that bad that I need to be perfumed like a woman?" Ardeth asked.
"Aiwa." Her answer was honest and direct. Ardeth watched her cheeks redden with embarrassment probably over her rudeness and she hastened to apologize.
"Please forgive me, I meant no disrespect…"
"There is no need, I was beginning to hate the smell of myself as well." He chuckled.
"From our lessons, the ancient mentors list the numerous healing qualities of jasmine in the medical papiri, and I thought to apply that knowledge here." The healer couldn't help but return his smile but it quickly faded when she noticed the small pink scar almost centered on his chest.
"Is this a recent wound?" She asked, the cloth skimming over it as if it could be removed by touch alone.
"Aiwa."
"Who could have done such a thing to you?" She asked innocently.
"A threat that is no longer alive."
The almost cold, clipped reply seemed to have startled her and Ardeth regretted saying it, for in doing so it tainted the light hearted moment they had shared earlier. It was a reminder of who he was and his station in the Medjai society; of the hold he had over life and death, a control most likely inconceivable to a healer.
She quickly cleaned up the bath, briskly rubbing his chest with another cloth, unable to meet his gaze. She started to climb to her feet but he reached out and grasped her hand, making her stay by his side.
"Yamahi," Ardeth whispered.
Her eyes widened in surprise over the use of the endearment. "Aiwa?" she whispered back.
"Now it is I who must ask for your forgiveness. And offer my gratitude in saving my life." He saw her hesitation, then a brief glimpse of acceptance in her eyes and she sat down again, shyly staring at her hands. He could sense her awkwardness but saw her resolve strengthen with the magnitude of her accomplishment.
"I accept although I must admit, you are my first patient." she confided.
"Then truly have I been blessed by Allah, to be delivered into the hands of one so capable in caring for me."
Asiya blushed over his murmured praise but couldn't help to blurt out her next question, seemingly regardless of the consequences.
"Have you killed many, warrior? I mean does your tribe guard the City of the Dead? We've all heard the stories from our fathers, and grandfathers."
Ardeth sighed, knowing there was no mild way to answer. "My tribe is the Eighth and we are guardians for Hamunaptra, but I will say no more. The tales of killing are not for your gentle ears, ya sitti."
"I see," she replied and he could imagine the visions she had of him fighting, bloodied and savage, that may have come to mind. His assumption was correct when he caught the look of sorrow in her eyes and he hastened to make whatever amends possible.
"Healer, what is wrong?" he asked, using the familiar pattern they had established to ease her distress. Ardeth suddenly felt tired, a sweeping wave of weakness that washed over him and he leaned his head back against the pillow.
"Warrior," she replied. "You take life when you need to in protection of Hamunaptra and of the Hom-dai; I have vowed to preserve life. I have just realized we are two opposites from one another."
Ardeth felt the intense need for sleep, however, he fought it long enough to give a whispered a reply that Asiya had to lean over to hear.
"Then in the balance of life and of the heart, perhaps we counter balance each other?" A moment later his eyes closed and he drifted back to sleep.
In the deep recesses of his mind, his subconscious heard her reply and for the moment it was enough.
"Aiwa, warrior; we do."
~*~
Patience.
It was a virtue he never thought he really had an abundance of, but found over the past two days, it was enough to sustain him while his body recuperated. It kept him still while the healer Rahimah continued applying healing poultices on his shoulder, or when Quadamah visited him and questioned about the events at Giza. It kept him from making a rash decision and leaving the village when he was still too weak, intent on hunting down those responsible and extracting some kind of satisfaction. Anything to appease the aching burden in his heart from the loss of Ardeth.
As limitless as his patience seemed, Rick was still restless and the previous night, he slowly climbed off the pallet and tested his body, stretching and pulling muscles lax from use until he collapsed covered in sweat. A minor setback and that morning, just as the sun was rising over the horizon, Rick stood up and tried stretching again.
He pulled his pants on then stood by the side of the bed, feet firmly planted in a wide stance, his arms out to the sides as he slowly rotated them in small circles. Biceps expanded then lengthened when he held them out straight, gently testing his range of motion. He brought his arms back in again, close to his sides positioned like a prize fighter and gradually brought up his weak arm, fist closed. He jabbed into the air, grimacing when the first twinges of pain blossomed into a burning sensation throughout his shoulder. Rick ignored the pain as dots of perspiration beaded on his face, over the broad plains of his chest, around the golden nipples and slid down his defined abdomen in tiny rivulets. The muscles rippled over his torso, tanned skin gleaming with a light sheen of perspiration as he continued to exercise. He slowed down his movement, not wanting to push himself too far but needing to prepare himself so he could leave in the next day or so. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he remembered always telling Evy he believed in being prepared.
He switched exercises and rotated his shoulder, the burning sensation increasing as the ligaments extended and their weakness made his arm shake.
"Commander Nabil may have talked about your ability to recover quickly," a feminine voice spoke up from behind him. "But he never mentioned your stubbornness in not following a healer's advice."
Rick swung around and smiled at Rahimah, a boyish grin creasing his face at being caught exercising. "No one said I couldn't move…"
"Would that have mattered?" She walked in carrying a small tray and sat it on a stand near the pallet, motioning for him to sit down.
"No," Rick said. He flexed his shoulder once more, then plopped down on the pallet with a small sigh, hating the weakness that occasionally swept over his still healing body.
"Somehow, I thought not," Rahimah laughed and began unwinding the bandage from his shoulder.
"Have you heard anything about Nabil?"
"No," Rahimah sighed. She kept her eyes averted but Rick could still sense her sadness. He had astutely guessed the young woman cared for the warrior, but refused to admit to anything. Instead she chose to focus on the task at present, the shaking of her hands the only indication of her inner turmoil. "The commander is waiting for the return of his warriors, dispatched the first day you arrived. Perhaps they will bring news."
"Where is Quadamah?" Rick asked, as he had always asked since regaining consciousness. The commander's last visit was yesterday afternoon, but it was brief and he chose not to answer any of O'Connell's questions regarding the attack. He explained that all the Medjai Elders were meeting with the commanders and there was a rumor of war. Quadamah had promised another visit today and Rick was anxiously waiting any further news.
"I've been with Elders since dawn." Quadamah suddenly spoke up from the doorway.
"Can you tell me what's going on or am I not privileged to know?" Rick asked and nodded his thanks to the healer when she was done wrapping his shoulder.
The commander sat down in a nearby chair and rubbed a hand over his weary face.
He seemed indecisive for a moment, as if debating on how much to relay but in the end, he looked liked he reached the conclusion that O'Connell needed to be told.
"Rahimah, would you please excuse us?" He asked and waited until the healer had left the room before turning back to the American.
"It's been determined for you to return to England. The chest is no longer your responsibility and the Medjai will retrieve it from our enemies' hands. We appreciate your help and are thankful for your friendship with Ardeth but this matter is no longer your concern."
Rick shook his head, certain he hadn't heard correctly. "Excuse me, you're sending me home?"
"Yes, it would be best…"
"Whoa, wait a second. Hold on and let me get this straight. You use Ardeth in getting me to come over and act as an errand boy; I get shot and lose my best friend all in one day and all you can come up with is it's 'no longer my concern'?"
"O'Connell…" Quadamah tried to explain.
"Well I got news for you, pal, I'm involved whether you and the Medjai like it or not. I got mixed up with this way before now, but never really wanted to act on anything out of respect for Ardeth. He's gone now and suddenly, I'm dismissed as if my usefulness is no longer of value."
"The Elders thought it best for you to return home, out of respect and deference of your new family."
Rick got up and started pacing. "So tell me, your Elders make the rules?"
"No," Quadamah shook his head. "They are advisors; we seek their counsel and use their knowledge and experiences from when they were warriors. All of the commanders enforce our oath as well as the laws of my people."
"I hear you talk about the Elder's decision but you haven't said anything about your own. Tell me, did you agree to this?"
The commander looked away from Rick's intent gaze for a moment. "No, I did not."
"Did any of the other commanders?"
Quadamah looked back at Rick. "Would that matter to know?"
"Yes."
"It was the Elders decision." He said quietly.
Rick stopped pacing and sat down on the pallet, facing the warrior. "Sounds to me the Elders have more authority than you care to admit but," he raised a hand to intercept any argument from the commander, "that's not the issue here. I can't change what the Elders decided, but since I'm not a Medjai, I guess I don't really have to obey, do I? What I can do is help and that's what I'm offering you. Help in finding those responsible for not only Ardeth but for the chest and the loss of your two other commanders. It's up to you on how you want to receive my help."
"What do you mean?" Quadamah asked.
"I'm a simple man. I don't have a lot, but what I do have I protect as best I can; my wife and son, brother-in-law and friend. Ardeth was more than a friend…hell he was like my brother. You should understand that since your people talk of brotherhood and of honoring your vows. Don't tell me this doesn't involve me anymore, it's too late for that. Just tell me what you and your people are going to do about getting the chest back. Either way, I ride out with you or behind you, it doesn't make a difference to me."
"Even if it means war?"
"Yes." Rick said.
"Be careful of what you agree to, my friend. And let us hope you do this out of respect and honor in Ardeth's memory, rather than revenge. War is never an easy alternative and one my people would like to avoid at all costs." Quadamah rose up from the chair and walked over to the door, turning back to O'Connell. "But I should also tell you, even now as we speak, my fellow commanders petition the Elders to give the decree."
"You let me know and I'll be ready."
Quadamah nodded his head. "Of that I have no doubt. I'll be back shortly after speaking to the commanders, there are a few things we still need to discuss."
"Wait," Rick called out. "I've been wondering, why did you come to Giza that day? I thought only Ardeth and Nabil were supposed to help with the exchange."
"The priest's chest is a temptation too overwhelming to ignore. Like dangling gold in front of a thief, my instincts warned me that our enemy might not have passed up such an opportunity. My only regret is that I didn't listen to my instincts sooner." Quadamah replied.
After the warrior left, Rick walked over to where his belongings were stored with his guns and holsters. He stared down at his shirt, thoughtfully touching where someone had repaired the bullet hole and had done a fair job of removing the bloodstains. For a moment, he wondered if he had made the right decision in offering his help to Quadamah since the outcome of war wasn't what he had expected.
He closed his eyes and thought of Evy, Alex and of course Jonathan. They were his family now and as he told the commander, he would do whatever he could to protect them. The threat of resurrecting the priest was becoming more tangible with the chest still missing and helping the Medjai retrieve it seemed the logical choice.
He had already lost one person he considered family, he didn't intend to lose any more.
Author's note: sorry for the delay in submitting this, I came down with a case of writer's block and am still battling it like a Medjai. I hope this chapter as well as the following one's still have the same level of writing you've come to expect from me and trust me when I say, I'm doing my best to give it too you. Thank you for your patience.
Jahm stood outside his tent, watching the sun sink down over the horizon like a giant orange ball of fire, waiting for the return of his seconds. He looked around in smug satisfaction, believing the camp was perfectly situated since it was beyond Sahara el Gharbiya and at the edge of the Great Sand Sea. He had chosen this area believing from a tactical advantage; his men were protected from any of the attacks he knew the Medjai would mount. However satisfaction was fleeting since learning two of his couriers were missing and he crumbled the message in one hand.
"Soon," he whispered and touched the scar on his face in anticipation of killing his most hated foes. "The game will end."
A sentry's cry caught his attention and he saw Kasim's men ride through the numerous tents until they came to Jahm's, which was conveniently situated on a tall dune overlooking the entire area. The leader waited, watching as Kasim gave the order to dismount, then had the captives pulled off their horses and brought before him, thrown unceremoniously down to the sand in submission.
Jahm's cold lifeless eyes swept over the woman, lingering on her pale face, then contemptuously raked over the semi-conscious Medjai. His lips curled back in an evil parody of a smile when he saw the warrior's blood soaked robes.
"I see at least one of my trusted seconds obey my commands, although I admit," he said cryptically. "I am curious why you brought me a woman?"
"My chief." Kasim bowed his head subserviently. "She was taken to offset a loss." Before the leader could question, he quickly told him of the events two days past and the reasoning behind her abduction.
"My men and I thought to…" Kasim hurried to finish his explanation but was backhanded across the face.
"You do not think," Jahm thundered. "You obey and when you do not, punishment will be dealt accordingly. Convince me why I shouldn't reprimand you for your stupidity? Did you not think the authorities would send out patrols looking for her?"
"We thought to sell her at the slave auction."
"And what has changed that thinking?" Jahm asked shrewdly.
"I am keeping her for my own."
Jahm's mercurial emotions switched and he suddenly laughed out loud. "The needs of the body outweigh the consequences of disobedience, eh?"
The men heard the woman's gasp of outrage but Kasim chose to ignore it for the moment. "Yes."
Jahm thoughtfully scratched his chin. "Your honesty is refreshing, I will admit. Take the Medjai to the prisoners' tent and put the woman in another for now, until I decide their fates."
"Yes my chief," Kasim reluctantly obeyed.
"Be forewarned; you are accountable for her actions. If any trouble arises, I hold you responsible. Do not disappoint me." Jahm said.
He dismissed his second with a wave of his hand, and then he turned and went inside his tent. He was instantly met with mocking laughter that emanated from one of the corners.
"One returns but not the one you seek."
"Have you nothing better to do than to spy on me, Nubian?" Jahm snapped.
"Merely an observer for our employer and protecting our interests." The man stepped from the shadows, the smile slipped from his lips and was replaced by a sneer of disdain. "Where is the chest?"
Jahm ignored the question and walked over to small table stationed off to the side. He picked up a water pouch and drank deeply, purposely keeping the other man waiting for his reply. He didn't have an answer at the moment and not only was this a stall tactic but he knew it would annoy his ever-present shadow.
"It will be here shortly."
The other man gave a small dry laugh. "The answer never changes, just the hours of the day."
"I have men positioned to watch for Qutaybah. He is late but will return. You have no faith in my men?" Jahm asked and faced the other man.
"Do you?"
"Choose your words carefully, Loch-nah…" Jahm warned and rested his hand on his sword.
The Nubian moved away from the leader and paused in the tent's entrance. He smirked over the veiled threat and murmured before leaving, "As carefully as you've chosen your men, of course."
~*~
Aliyy crouched down and peered through a small slice in the canvas, just as he had done since his abduction several days ago. He used the opening to spy on any activity in the camp as means of gathering useful information; any advantage over the enemy to be exploited. He found out the guards were prone to talking and he learned much from eavesdropping on those conversations.
"What do you see?" Wajeeh asked. He knelt down behind Aliyy and looked over his friend's shoulder, concern reflected in his eyes.
"They've brought in two more captives. And one is Medjai."
The two men watched the one they knew as the leader berate his second in command and order the captives to be taken away. The struggling woman was shoved into a nearby tent, the warrior hauled away by two guards and Aliyy moved away from the opening.
"They are coming this way," he warned.
He moved away from the canvas with his friend beside him and stood defiantly in the center of the tent. Lessons from the previous days had taught them their guards took great delight in mistreating their prisoners. Several altercations as well as escape attempts had resulted in both men being beaten but nothing diminished their determination.
Freedom was the risk they would gladly take with their lives.
Suddenly one tent flap was thrown open and two guards aimed their rifles at the warriors while two more dragged in a limp body. It was thrown onto the hard ground, like a piece of refuse and given no more consideration than an annoying insect. The two armed men remained tense and alert as their comrades cautiously exited the tent, the rifle sights aimed squarely on each warrior.
"There's another of your kind, Medjai dogs." One of them said as the men left the tent. He gestured menacingly at Wajeeh as if to antagonize him but the warrior remained impassive. The only acknowledgement the commander gave was the promise of retribution that glittered in his dark eyes.
"I doubt he live till morning," the guard taunted, shaken by Wajeeh's cold stare and quickly left.
Aliyy resumed his position at the canvas but Wajeeh rushed over to the fallen warrior's side and gently turned over the body.
"Who is it?" Aliyy asked.
"Merciful Allah, it is Nabil," Wajeeh murmured as his hands gently sought out the wound on the commander's shoulder. He peeled back the bloody robe, frowning in confusion when a stained scrap of material fell away from the injury and tumbled to the ground.
"Is he alive?"
"Barely. He is weak and feverish," Wajeeh bent closer to examine the wound. He began tearing strips from his robe and wrapped them around the shoulder as Nabil's eyes fluttered open.
"Wajeeh…" he confirmed in a weak voice.
"Aiwa, al saaHib."
"What is this place?" Nabil shifted his body on the sand and looked around the tent until he saw Aliyy still standing off to the side. Surprise flared up in his eyes in seeing the missing commander. "We had thought you were both dead."
"Our keeper Jahm has tried to break our bodies as well as our spirits, but we have persevered. We live each day and fight for each tomorrow. Tell me, what has happened during our imprisonment? Did the American come for the chest?" Wajeeh asked.
"I believe the chest is gone…taken two days ago at Giza. Exchange was set up for an ambush…attacked…Ardeth missing as well as the American." Nabil's temporary burst of strength started to wan quickly as he relayed the tragic events at Giza.
"Ardeth missing?" Wajeeh shook his head. "He was not well when last I saw him…"
"He wanted me to take…him to a healer after the chest was safely on its way to England." Nabil said softly. "Now I fear it is too…late."
"Where is the chest now?" Aliyy asked.
Before Nabil could answer, a sudden commotion outside captured the commander's attention and Wajeeh joined Aliyy back at the opening. Another group of men had just ridden into camp and stopped before the leader's tent. One man dismounted, gestured for something to be brought forward and knelt down on one knee in greeting before Jahm. Words were hard to distinguish from a distance but the two warriors recognized the bulky object that was brought forward with a flourish and placed on the ground next to the genuflecting man. The crowd seemed to hold their breath, waiting to see the reaction from their leader.
Jahm raised his hands in the air and the group went wild, guns firing into the air as the men gave their war cries of victory. Over the jubilation no one seemed to notice when the leader pulled out his own gun and shot the man in the head. The body toppled over onto the sand and Jahm calmly walked around it, eager to see the spoils his victory had earned. He signaled for the body to be taken away and bent down, slowly pulling off the covering and examining the inscriptions on top of the chest. Satisfied, he motioned for it to be brought into his tent and walked inside, away from the celebration.
"This man Jahm has no honor." Aliyy observed quietly. "He rules these men more viciously than his predecessors and has become very powerful."
"With the chest, he will most likely attack the City of the Dead and raise the priest. If that happens, my brother, he will become invincible." Wajeeh said.
Nabil shifted on the sand again and could barely contain the moan of pain that slid past his clenched teeth.
Wajeeh looked at the younger commander with a worried frown, then leaned over and spoke to Aliyy in a low voice.
"I do not know what has transpired between you and Nabil but I strongly suggest you make your peace with him soon. It will be the will of Allah if he lives through the night."
Aliyy hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked over and knelt down beside the younger commander, the expression on his face unreadable. His reluctance was apparent but he shifted his body and sat down cross-legged on the sand.
Finally he reached out and gently touched Nabil's shoulder. "My brother…"
Nabil returned the greeting but refused to meet the other commander's gaze.
"Twelve summers ago, you approached me with questions of your father. I reacted foolishly and refused your request. Your appearance startled me and invoked memories of a time I had struggled to forget and place behind me. I must ask for your forgiveness over my behavior."
"There is…nothing to forgive. My father was Yusef, warrior of the Eleventh, married to Aleaha my mother. What questions I had have long been…forgotten." Nabil said.
"Yusuf was a good warrior and is greatly missed by his brothers, may Allah rest his soul. Both your parents loved you as if you were flesh of their flesh, blood of their blood. But I hold the knowledge of another man, your real father and of your mother…who was my betrothed. Ask me the same question and I will gladly answer it. The time has come for you to know your heritage."
Nabil's eyes closed for a moment and Aliiy feared the younger man has slipped into unconsciousness. He gently touched Nabil's arm.
"Ask me once more," he quietly urged.
"I ask you now of what I had asked then…do you know who my real father was?"
~*~
Voices. Soft, high in pitch, most likely feminine voices.
He heard them as the cloud of unconsciousness lifted and awareness returned. Ardeth shifted on the pallet, automatically testing his injured leg and tensing for the subsequent pain that followed. Instead, it was a dull, almost bearable ache and he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt tired and as weak as a baby but the release from the continual agony he had dealt with since leaving England almost made him whisper a heartfelt prayer of thanks to Allah.
"You can argue as much as you like, sister," a voice said. "But I shall not tend to him. Every time I do, I'm either getting stabbed or he's scaring me into a corner."
A second voice responded with a laugh. "I can see you remember your recently taken oath."
Suddenly Ardeth felt the soft, wet texture of a cloth on his chest, gently wiping away the sweaty residue from his fever and he felt himself relax under the almost tender ministrations. It swirled around in ever increasing circles, slow and steady until it swept up over his shoulders and back down again.
The second voice spoke again. "I suggest since Asiya seems to be the only one who can make him behave and seems to like him…I nominate her to be his only care giver."
A soft laugh breathed over his shoulder and he heard a moment later the voice he recognized from when he battled the demons of his mind. It was like a beacon of light, a rock of sanctuary which to hold onto and he would never forget its sensual pitch or timbre.
"I suggest for the both of you to finish your chores for the day. I shall sit with the warrior for now."
Ardeth heard the others leave, felt her move away and slowly opened his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the bright warm sunshine that poured through an open window near the end of the pallet. He saw her walking over to a stand at the other end of the room, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips beneath her robes, the long thick braid of hair that hung down her back as it swung back and forth with each step. He watched as she refilled a basin with fresh water, graceful and fluid in motion. She turned around, a soft smile lighting up her face when she saw him awake.
"SabaaH il xeer" She called out a greeting and came back to sit down by the bedside.
"SabaaH in nuur." Ardeth returned, his voice cracking slightly from lack of use but more from being captivated by her eyes; colored like mahogany, with light flecks of gold.
"Would you like something to drink?" She asked and began to bathe him again.
Ardeth's response was momentarily forgotten when she started to sponge his chest again and he closed his eyes under the tender cleansing. They popped open a moment later when he caught the distinctive whiff of the familiar fragrance of jasmine.
"Do I smell that bad that I need to be perfumed like a woman?" Ardeth asked.
"Aiwa." Her answer was honest and direct. Ardeth watched her cheeks redden with embarrassment probably over her rudeness and she hastened to apologize.
"Please forgive me, I meant no disrespect…"
"There is no need, I was beginning to hate the smell of myself as well." He chuckled.
"From our lessons, the ancient mentors list the numerous healing qualities of jasmine in the medical papiri, and I thought to apply that knowledge here." The healer couldn't help but return his smile but it quickly faded when she noticed the small pink scar almost centered on his chest.
"Is this a recent wound?" She asked, the cloth skimming over it as if it could be removed by touch alone.
"Aiwa."
"Who could have done such a thing to you?" She asked innocently.
"A threat that is no longer alive."
The almost cold, clipped reply seemed to have startled her and Ardeth regretted saying it, for in doing so it tainted the light hearted moment they had shared earlier. It was a reminder of who he was and his station in the Medjai society; of the hold he had over life and death, a control most likely inconceivable to a healer.
She quickly cleaned up the bath, briskly rubbing his chest with another cloth, unable to meet his gaze. She started to climb to her feet but he reached out and grasped her hand, making her stay by his side.
"Yamahi," Ardeth whispered.
Her eyes widened in surprise over the use of the endearment. "Aiwa?" she whispered back.
"Now it is I who must ask for your forgiveness. And offer my gratitude in saving my life." He saw her hesitation, then a brief glimpse of acceptance in her eyes and she sat down again, shyly staring at her hands. He could sense her awkwardness but saw her resolve strengthen with the magnitude of her accomplishment.
"I accept although I must admit, you are my first patient." she confided.
"Then truly have I been blessed by Allah, to be delivered into the hands of one so capable in caring for me."
Asiya blushed over his murmured praise but couldn't help to blurt out her next question, seemingly regardless of the consequences.
"Have you killed many, warrior? I mean does your tribe guard the City of the Dead? We've all heard the stories from our fathers, and grandfathers."
Ardeth sighed, knowing there was no mild way to answer. "My tribe is the Eighth and we are guardians for Hamunaptra, but I will say no more. The tales of killing are not for your gentle ears, ya sitti."
"I see," she replied and he could imagine the visions she had of him fighting, bloodied and savage, that may have come to mind. His assumption was correct when he caught the look of sorrow in her eyes and he hastened to make whatever amends possible.
"Healer, what is wrong?" he asked, using the familiar pattern they had established to ease her distress. Ardeth suddenly felt tired, a sweeping wave of weakness that washed over him and he leaned his head back against the pillow.
"Warrior," she replied. "You take life when you need to in protection of Hamunaptra and of the Hom-dai; I have vowed to preserve life. I have just realized we are two opposites from one another."
Ardeth felt the intense need for sleep, however, he fought it long enough to give a whispered a reply that Asiya had to lean over to hear.
"Then in the balance of life and of the heart, perhaps we counter balance each other?" A moment later his eyes closed and he drifted back to sleep.
In the deep recesses of his mind, his subconscious heard her reply and for the moment it was enough.
"Aiwa, warrior; we do."
~*~
Patience.
It was a virtue he never thought he really had an abundance of, but found over the past two days, it was enough to sustain him while his body recuperated. It kept him still while the healer Rahimah continued applying healing poultices on his shoulder, or when Quadamah visited him and questioned about the events at Giza. It kept him from making a rash decision and leaving the village when he was still too weak, intent on hunting down those responsible and extracting some kind of satisfaction. Anything to appease the aching burden in his heart from the loss of Ardeth.
As limitless as his patience seemed, Rick was still restless and the previous night, he slowly climbed off the pallet and tested his body, stretching and pulling muscles lax from use until he collapsed covered in sweat. A minor setback and that morning, just as the sun was rising over the horizon, Rick stood up and tried stretching again.
He pulled his pants on then stood by the side of the bed, feet firmly planted in a wide stance, his arms out to the sides as he slowly rotated them in small circles. Biceps expanded then lengthened when he held them out straight, gently testing his range of motion. He brought his arms back in again, close to his sides positioned like a prize fighter and gradually brought up his weak arm, fist closed. He jabbed into the air, grimacing when the first twinges of pain blossomed into a burning sensation throughout his shoulder. Rick ignored the pain as dots of perspiration beaded on his face, over the broad plains of his chest, around the golden nipples and slid down his defined abdomen in tiny rivulets. The muscles rippled over his torso, tanned skin gleaming with a light sheen of perspiration as he continued to exercise. He slowed down his movement, not wanting to push himself too far but needing to prepare himself so he could leave in the next day or so. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he remembered always telling Evy he believed in being prepared.
He switched exercises and rotated his shoulder, the burning sensation increasing as the ligaments extended and their weakness made his arm shake.
"Commander Nabil may have talked about your ability to recover quickly," a feminine voice spoke up from behind him. "But he never mentioned your stubbornness in not following a healer's advice."
Rick swung around and smiled at Rahimah, a boyish grin creasing his face at being caught exercising. "No one said I couldn't move…"
"Would that have mattered?" She walked in carrying a small tray and sat it on a stand near the pallet, motioning for him to sit down.
"No," Rick said. He flexed his shoulder once more, then plopped down on the pallet with a small sigh, hating the weakness that occasionally swept over his still healing body.
"Somehow, I thought not," Rahimah laughed and began unwinding the bandage from his shoulder.
"Have you heard anything about Nabil?"
"No," Rahimah sighed. She kept her eyes averted but Rick could still sense her sadness. He had astutely guessed the young woman cared for the warrior, but refused to admit to anything. Instead she chose to focus on the task at present, the shaking of her hands the only indication of her inner turmoil. "The commander is waiting for the return of his warriors, dispatched the first day you arrived. Perhaps they will bring news."
"Where is Quadamah?" Rick asked, as he had always asked since regaining consciousness. The commander's last visit was yesterday afternoon, but it was brief and he chose not to answer any of O'Connell's questions regarding the attack. He explained that all the Medjai Elders were meeting with the commanders and there was a rumor of war. Quadamah had promised another visit today and Rick was anxiously waiting any further news.
"I've been with Elders since dawn." Quadamah suddenly spoke up from the doorway.
"Can you tell me what's going on or am I not privileged to know?" Rick asked and nodded his thanks to the healer when she was done wrapping his shoulder.
The commander sat down in a nearby chair and rubbed a hand over his weary face.
He seemed indecisive for a moment, as if debating on how much to relay but in the end, he looked liked he reached the conclusion that O'Connell needed to be told.
"Rahimah, would you please excuse us?" He asked and waited until the healer had left the room before turning back to the American.
"It's been determined for you to return to England. The chest is no longer your responsibility and the Medjai will retrieve it from our enemies' hands. We appreciate your help and are thankful for your friendship with Ardeth but this matter is no longer your concern."
Rick shook his head, certain he hadn't heard correctly. "Excuse me, you're sending me home?"
"Yes, it would be best…"
"Whoa, wait a second. Hold on and let me get this straight. You use Ardeth in getting me to come over and act as an errand boy; I get shot and lose my best friend all in one day and all you can come up with is it's 'no longer my concern'?"
"O'Connell…" Quadamah tried to explain.
"Well I got news for you, pal, I'm involved whether you and the Medjai like it or not. I got mixed up with this way before now, but never really wanted to act on anything out of respect for Ardeth. He's gone now and suddenly, I'm dismissed as if my usefulness is no longer of value."
"The Elders thought it best for you to return home, out of respect and deference of your new family."
Rick got up and started pacing. "So tell me, your Elders make the rules?"
"No," Quadamah shook his head. "They are advisors; we seek their counsel and use their knowledge and experiences from when they were warriors. All of the commanders enforce our oath as well as the laws of my people."
"I hear you talk about the Elder's decision but you haven't said anything about your own. Tell me, did you agree to this?"
The commander looked away from Rick's intent gaze for a moment. "No, I did not."
"Did any of the other commanders?"
Quadamah looked back at Rick. "Would that matter to know?"
"Yes."
"It was the Elders decision." He said quietly.
Rick stopped pacing and sat down on the pallet, facing the warrior. "Sounds to me the Elders have more authority than you care to admit but," he raised a hand to intercept any argument from the commander, "that's not the issue here. I can't change what the Elders decided, but since I'm not a Medjai, I guess I don't really have to obey, do I? What I can do is help and that's what I'm offering you. Help in finding those responsible for not only Ardeth but for the chest and the loss of your two other commanders. It's up to you on how you want to receive my help."
"What do you mean?" Quadamah asked.
"I'm a simple man. I don't have a lot, but what I do have I protect as best I can; my wife and son, brother-in-law and friend. Ardeth was more than a friend…hell he was like my brother. You should understand that since your people talk of brotherhood and of honoring your vows. Don't tell me this doesn't involve me anymore, it's too late for that. Just tell me what you and your people are going to do about getting the chest back. Either way, I ride out with you or behind you, it doesn't make a difference to me."
"Even if it means war?"
"Yes." Rick said.
"Be careful of what you agree to, my friend. And let us hope you do this out of respect and honor in Ardeth's memory, rather than revenge. War is never an easy alternative and one my people would like to avoid at all costs." Quadamah rose up from the chair and walked over to the door, turning back to O'Connell. "But I should also tell you, even now as we speak, my fellow commanders petition the Elders to give the decree."
"You let me know and I'll be ready."
Quadamah nodded his head. "Of that I have no doubt. I'll be back shortly after speaking to the commanders, there are a few things we still need to discuss."
"Wait," Rick called out. "I've been wondering, why did you come to Giza that day? I thought only Ardeth and Nabil were supposed to help with the exchange."
"The priest's chest is a temptation too overwhelming to ignore. Like dangling gold in front of a thief, my instincts warned me that our enemy might not have passed up such an opportunity. My only regret is that I didn't listen to my instincts sooner." Quadamah replied.
After the warrior left, Rick walked over to where his belongings were stored with his guns and holsters. He stared down at his shirt, thoughtfully touching where someone had repaired the bullet hole and had done a fair job of removing the bloodstains. For a moment, he wondered if he had made the right decision in offering his help to Quadamah since the outcome of war wasn't what he had expected.
He closed his eyes and thought of Evy, Alex and of course Jonathan. They were his family now and as he told the commander, he would do whatever he could to protect them. The threat of resurrecting the priest was becoming more tangible with the chest still missing and helping the Medjai retrieve it seemed the logical choice.
He had already lost one person he considered family, he didn't intend to lose any more.
Author's note: sorry for the delay in submitting this, I came down with a case of writer's block and am still battling it like a Medjai. I hope this chapter as well as the following one's still have the same level of writing you've come to expect from me and trust me when I say, I'm doing my best to give it too you. Thank you for your patience.