Chapter 12
Ardeth's voice washed over Asiya like warm honey and she looked up into the dark depths of his eyes
"If allowed to fester, the weight of sorrow can crush the heart," she said sadly. "I too know the sadness of losing loved ones."
Asiya climbed to her knees and bent down, one hand extended to the warrior. He reached up and slid his hand into hers, and for a moment, she marveled at the texture of his skin. It was warm and soft and she felt the small rough patches of skin at the base of each finger, creating a delicious friction as it rubbed across her hand. The calluses were the result from years of wielding a scimitar.
She pulled him to his feet, taking on as much of his weight as possible and wrapped one of his arms over her shoulder. Slowly she navigated them back into the chamber and caught his sigh of frustration once they crossed over the threshold. A small smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.
"Do not fear, warrior. I will not keep you prisoner in this room for the remainder of the day but instead, thought to at least cover the rest of your body with a robe. I think Is'af would appreciate our …thoughtfulness."
She walked him over to a small chair, gently easing Ardeth's tall frame down letting his arm slip from her shoulders. He leaned back and passed a shaking hand over his face, a poor attempt at hiding his exhaustion from the alert gaze of the healer. Asiya rummaged through a small chest at the foot of the pallet and eventually pulled out the garment she was searching for.
"Tell me what happened." Ardeth's voice was quiet yet commanding.
"It's been so long since I've thought of him…" Asiya murmured and walked over. She stood in front of Ardeth and draped the robe over his shoulders, brushing back a few stray locks of hair curled over his broad shoulders. "In my twelfth summer, my family was blessed with the birth of my brother, Shakir. My parents had given up hope of having any more children several years after I was born so his arrival into our family was a jubilant occasion."
She motioned for him to lean forward, pushing an arm through each sleeve, subconsciously enjoying the close intimate contact of his head leaning against her stomach. For the briefest of moments, she rested one hand on his hair before she continued with her story.
"Shakir was a beautiful, inquisitive baby who always got into trouble and my mother placed me in charge of his care. My brother rapidly learned how to crawl, then walk and finally run. I would chase after him for many hours and he would always look back to make sure I was following. He thought it a game to play and would laugh as he ran away from me. When I was sixteen summers old, marauding Tuareg were stealing horses and cattle from some of the nearby settlements. The warriors were on alert and the Elders felt confident my village wouldn't be attacked. An error in judgment that cost many innocent people their lives."
Asiya stopped talking for a moment as memories long ago buried surfaced with a bittersweet agony. She stiffened for a moment when she felt Ardeth's arms wrap around her waist but accepted his comfort with a heartfelt sigh. She placed her arms around his shoulders, leaned into his solid strength, and felt it absorb into her soul.
"I was outside of our home watching Shakir play with some of the other children when the first riders came charging through the streets. Friends and family were killed indiscriminately, and my father ran out with a few men to meet the charge. They were gunned down within a matter of moments. I remember I stood there in shock, screaming my father's name and not even thinking of Shakir until he ran over to my father's body. I started running, desperate to save him, thinking it would be my fault if he were killed. I threw myself at my brother just as a Tuareg took aim with his rifle. The bullet grazed my arm but hit Shakir in the chest."
Asiya stopped for a moment to regain her composure, tears threatening to spill forth from her eyes as she whispered the conclusion to her story. She felt Ardeth's hold tighten around her and gently stroked his hair.
"Heedless of my own injury, I gathered the limp body of my brother into my arm's and tried to staunch the flow of blood from his chest with my hands. I pleaded with Allah to take my life and in place of Shakir's, I screamed my anguish and pushed away those who came over to help. He died in my arms just as my mother came running over to see what had happened to her husband and children. By that time, the Tuaregs had dispersed, leaving behind a village riddled with bodies and the streets running with blood. My mother's composure failed when she saw the dead bodies of her husband and son. She took out her anger on the one person she found alive and blamed me for their deaths. After all, I was supposed to have been watching Shakir. I was the one who should have died instead of him. My mother refused to speak to me from that day forward and for many years after that, the rift that developed between us grew as wide and as vast as the Sahara."
She leaned back and gently took Ardeth's face into her hands, and leaned down staring intently into his eyes.
"I let my own guilt over the death of my brother blind me, consume my heart and weigh down my soul. I believed I had failed my family since I didn't die in his place and guilt ate away at my insides. It festered like an untreated wound until one day, it exploded forth when pricked by a simple statement from my mother. In one of the rare occasions when she would speak to me, she asked me if I ever considered taking my own life in exchange for Shakir's. I wanted to argue with her, to plead for her love and understanding but then I realized she would not grant me forgiveness just as she would not grant herself. For purposes I have yet to understand, my mother refused any reconciliation, preferring to wallow in her own sorrow until it finally broke her heart. It was her death that finally prompted me to reevaluate my own feelings of remorse. I accepted the past, acknowledged the lessons taught but broke the power it held over me for Shakir. In doing so, I freed myself from the feelings of guilt in knowing that there was nothing I could have done that day to save my brother. It was the will of Allah that he died just as it was Allah's will that I lived. Do you understand my lesson, warrior? You avenged Janan's death in the hopes of finding closure and a release of your anger, but instead, it was only a temporary outlet. You rescued your friend and saved his life, thus redeeming the warrior. When will the man find redemption? When will you be able to release the past and embrace the future?" Asiya's hands fell away from Ardeth's face and she leaned back, slowly closing the robe and belting it around his waist.
He remained silent, contemplating the healer's story, his face void of any emotion except for the brightness in his eyes. When he finally spoke, it was with great difficulty.
"I do not… know how to forgive myself," he whispered the hoarse plea. "There was a time in which I thought I could rise above my sorrow, but it pulls me back down, as if I am sinking into a pit of quicksand. I grow so tired of this ache in my heart and yearn for…peace."
"Find your inner strength from within here," she gently poked his chest. "It has been substantial enough to guide you through the bleak days of the past, it will be substantial enough to help you forge ahead through the days of tomorrow. Forgiveness warrior."
"Help me, healer," he replied.
"With all that I am…" Asiya stepped back and reached down with one hand. She saw the indecision flash over his face and knew the price his warrior's pride may have paid in accepting her assistance. He stared at her hand, perhaps wrestling with his inner turmoil then slowly, he reached out and placed his hand into hers. His grasp was strong and sure as Asiya helped him to his feet and once more, draped his arm across her shoulders. They slowly walked back out into the hallway and down towards the kitchen area, the silence between them pregnant with mixed emotions.
She was thrilled he was learning to accept her help and flustered because she could finally admit this warrior had captured her heart. Feelings of love were new and frightening, not yet to be accepted and they fluttered around in her stomach, tying it into nervous knots. She was amazed in the short time she had come to know Ardeth, the depth and intensity of her feelings for him had grown. Asiya related to his sorrow, understood his pain and yearned to help him release himself from the sadness that had captured his heart for so long.
May Allah have mercy on her for Asiya realized there would come a point in time when she needed to let her warrior go. The thought of his leaving was more unsettling than the thought that somehow, she had fallen in love with Ardeth.
~*~
Loch-nah stood in the entryway of Jahm's tent, arms folded across his massive chest, his bored gaze sweeping over the area of the camp below. In the past few hours, he had impatiently assumed command over the men, sending out patrols in three different directions to check on the nearest Medjai tribes. The orders were to observe, not incite battle and to return as soon as possible with any information. At his command, Kasim had restored some resemblance of control over the camp but it still was not satisfactory enough to suit Loch-nah. If he were in charge of these men, insubordination and disregard for duty would be dealt with the logical and necessary penalty – death.
He would send back the bodies of the commanders to their people as a warning and as an intimidation tactic. He would not wait for the Medjai to strike but continue attacking their settlements, to undermine the warrior's strength and weaken them enough for one final assault.
Loch-nah uttered a dark curse over his inability to act. His choice in remaining loyal to Hafez was only tethered by the promised command over an army that could rule the world. It irked the warrior's immense pride over his helplessness to do nothing more but to wait for his employer to come from Cairo. A message had been sent yesterday. Taking the chest, they would travel to Hamunaptra and begin the process of resurrecting He That Shall Not Be Named. A task that both men had hoped would be an easy one as long as Jahm continued harassing the Medjai.
"Do you desire what you cannot have?" Jahm's sarcastic voice asked from behind.
Loch-nah refused to answer as his dark gaze swept over the camp again. Kasim was training a small group of men but the mercenary's attention was caught by the covert actions of the young Tuareg ducking inside one tent.
"Do you not think I know of the orders issued by you to my men?" Jahm questioned. "I am the one to give the commands. These are my men and I am their leader…"
"Then act like one," Loch-nah snapped. "I ask you the same question; do you desire the chest? Since its arrival, you have done nothing but hide with it, ignoring your responsibilities as a so-called leader."
"I admit my curiosity about it may have hampered my good judgment; a mistake of which I do not intend to duplicate."
Loch-nah watched as the boy emerged from the tent, stuffing a pouch underneath his already bulky tunic and quickly move to the next one. He quickly glanced around then ducked inside the English woman's tent. Loch- nah backed into the dark interior as he continued spying on the young Tuareg, his interest peaked and ignored Jahm who was still standing behind him.
"Do not let your error in good judgment happen again or I will take great pleasure in killing you." Came the growled warning.
Loch-nah heard Jahm retreat but kept his eyes focused on the tent. Minutes passed as he kept his vigil, his patience finally rewarded when the boy emerged and hurried around to the side of the next one. He fell to his knees and quickly shoved the items he had been carrying inside the prisoner's tent. Scrambling to his feet, he heard a summons from a few men nearby and hurried over to do their bidding.
Loch-nah blinked in amazement, a slow evil grin tugging up one corner of his mouth. It would appear that Jahm had a traitor amongst his men. His first instinct was to apprehend the boy to uncover the conspiracy but instead he chose not too. Better to see what transpires over the next few hours and eagerly await the outcome. It was meager entertainment at best but Loch-nah felt it would further undermine Jahm's authority and he eagerly looked forward to the outcome.
"Tell me more about the Medjai, especially Ardeth Bay." Loch-nah cajoled and turned back inside the tent.
~*~
Ardeth felt light-headed and suddenly lurched against Asiya, making them stumble as she overcompensated for his weight. They twisted and fell against one wall, her body effectively captured by the heavy weight of his body against hers. He heard her startled gasp of surprise, felt her hands come up to timidly push against his chest even as he leaned into her softness, his thighs intimately pressed against hers. He wanted to step back yet felt powerless to move. Impulsively he slid his fingers through the heavy waves of her hair, gliding through the strands as he slowly brought his hands down to cup the sides of her face. He applied the gentlest of pressure, titling her head upwards, his eyes straying down to her lips, noting they were partially open as if she seemed to have trouble catching her breath. Ardeth felt it wash over him, engulfing his soul and immersing his heart. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, deluged with feelings he had never thought to have again and he hesitated; their strength too new and overwhelming.
His eyes opened a moment later when he felt the first feather light caress of her fingers on his face. They skimmed over the tattoo's, mapping out the dark design on his skin as if committing them to memory. Her hand moved down to his mouth, exploring the fullness of his lower lip and the texture of his beard. Ardeth captured her hand and placed a small kiss on the palm, smiling to himself when he heard her startled intake of breath. He imprisoned it in both of his own and guided them to a resting place on his chest, certain she could feel the beating of his heart.
"Shukran ya Asiya hilwa," Ardeth murmured and slowly lowered his head, intent on plundering the beckoning softness of her lips. He was mildly surprised when she leaned up to meet him halfway.
A discreet cough from behind them broke the intimate spell that had cocooned them and Ardeth looked up to see Na'ima standing a few feet away, an unreadable expression on her face.
"I apologize for the intrusion…" she glanced at Asiya. "Solman has returned from Cairo with the helper."
Ardeth's voice washed over Asiya like warm honey and she looked up into the dark depths of his eyes
"If allowed to fester, the weight of sorrow can crush the heart," she said sadly. "I too know the sadness of losing loved ones."
Asiya climbed to her knees and bent down, one hand extended to the warrior. He reached up and slid his hand into hers, and for a moment, she marveled at the texture of his skin. It was warm and soft and she felt the small rough patches of skin at the base of each finger, creating a delicious friction as it rubbed across her hand. The calluses were the result from years of wielding a scimitar.
She pulled him to his feet, taking on as much of his weight as possible and wrapped one of his arms over her shoulder. Slowly she navigated them back into the chamber and caught his sigh of frustration once they crossed over the threshold. A small smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.
"Do not fear, warrior. I will not keep you prisoner in this room for the remainder of the day but instead, thought to at least cover the rest of your body with a robe. I think Is'af would appreciate our …thoughtfulness."
She walked him over to a small chair, gently easing Ardeth's tall frame down letting his arm slip from her shoulders. He leaned back and passed a shaking hand over his face, a poor attempt at hiding his exhaustion from the alert gaze of the healer. Asiya rummaged through a small chest at the foot of the pallet and eventually pulled out the garment she was searching for.
"Tell me what happened." Ardeth's voice was quiet yet commanding.
"It's been so long since I've thought of him…" Asiya murmured and walked over. She stood in front of Ardeth and draped the robe over his shoulders, brushing back a few stray locks of hair curled over his broad shoulders. "In my twelfth summer, my family was blessed with the birth of my brother, Shakir. My parents had given up hope of having any more children several years after I was born so his arrival into our family was a jubilant occasion."
She motioned for him to lean forward, pushing an arm through each sleeve, subconsciously enjoying the close intimate contact of his head leaning against her stomach. For the briefest of moments, she rested one hand on his hair before she continued with her story.
"Shakir was a beautiful, inquisitive baby who always got into trouble and my mother placed me in charge of his care. My brother rapidly learned how to crawl, then walk and finally run. I would chase after him for many hours and he would always look back to make sure I was following. He thought it a game to play and would laugh as he ran away from me. When I was sixteen summers old, marauding Tuareg were stealing horses and cattle from some of the nearby settlements. The warriors were on alert and the Elders felt confident my village wouldn't be attacked. An error in judgment that cost many innocent people their lives."
Asiya stopped talking for a moment as memories long ago buried surfaced with a bittersweet agony. She stiffened for a moment when she felt Ardeth's arms wrap around her waist but accepted his comfort with a heartfelt sigh. She placed her arms around his shoulders, leaned into his solid strength, and felt it absorb into her soul.
"I was outside of our home watching Shakir play with some of the other children when the first riders came charging through the streets. Friends and family were killed indiscriminately, and my father ran out with a few men to meet the charge. They were gunned down within a matter of moments. I remember I stood there in shock, screaming my father's name and not even thinking of Shakir until he ran over to my father's body. I started running, desperate to save him, thinking it would be my fault if he were killed. I threw myself at my brother just as a Tuareg took aim with his rifle. The bullet grazed my arm but hit Shakir in the chest."
Asiya stopped for a moment to regain her composure, tears threatening to spill forth from her eyes as she whispered the conclusion to her story. She felt Ardeth's hold tighten around her and gently stroked his hair.
"Heedless of my own injury, I gathered the limp body of my brother into my arm's and tried to staunch the flow of blood from his chest with my hands. I pleaded with Allah to take my life and in place of Shakir's, I screamed my anguish and pushed away those who came over to help. He died in my arms just as my mother came running over to see what had happened to her husband and children. By that time, the Tuaregs had dispersed, leaving behind a village riddled with bodies and the streets running with blood. My mother's composure failed when she saw the dead bodies of her husband and son. She took out her anger on the one person she found alive and blamed me for their deaths. After all, I was supposed to have been watching Shakir. I was the one who should have died instead of him. My mother refused to speak to me from that day forward and for many years after that, the rift that developed between us grew as wide and as vast as the Sahara."
She leaned back and gently took Ardeth's face into her hands, and leaned down staring intently into his eyes.
"I let my own guilt over the death of my brother blind me, consume my heart and weigh down my soul. I believed I had failed my family since I didn't die in his place and guilt ate away at my insides. It festered like an untreated wound until one day, it exploded forth when pricked by a simple statement from my mother. In one of the rare occasions when she would speak to me, she asked me if I ever considered taking my own life in exchange for Shakir's. I wanted to argue with her, to plead for her love and understanding but then I realized she would not grant me forgiveness just as she would not grant herself. For purposes I have yet to understand, my mother refused any reconciliation, preferring to wallow in her own sorrow until it finally broke her heart. It was her death that finally prompted me to reevaluate my own feelings of remorse. I accepted the past, acknowledged the lessons taught but broke the power it held over me for Shakir. In doing so, I freed myself from the feelings of guilt in knowing that there was nothing I could have done that day to save my brother. It was the will of Allah that he died just as it was Allah's will that I lived. Do you understand my lesson, warrior? You avenged Janan's death in the hopes of finding closure and a release of your anger, but instead, it was only a temporary outlet. You rescued your friend and saved his life, thus redeeming the warrior. When will the man find redemption? When will you be able to release the past and embrace the future?" Asiya's hands fell away from Ardeth's face and she leaned back, slowly closing the robe and belting it around his waist.
He remained silent, contemplating the healer's story, his face void of any emotion except for the brightness in his eyes. When he finally spoke, it was with great difficulty.
"I do not… know how to forgive myself," he whispered the hoarse plea. "There was a time in which I thought I could rise above my sorrow, but it pulls me back down, as if I am sinking into a pit of quicksand. I grow so tired of this ache in my heart and yearn for…peace."
"Find your inner strength from within here," she gently poked his chest. "It has been substantial enough to guide you through the bleak days of the past, it will be substantial enough to help you forge ahead through the days of tomorrow. Forgiveness warrior."
"Help me, healer," he replied.
"With all that I am…" Asiya stepped back and reached down with one hand. She saw the indecision flash over his face and knew the price his warrior's pride may have paid in accepting her assistance. He stared at her hand, perhaps wrestling with his inner turmoil then slowly, he reached out and placed his hand into hers. His grasp was strong and sure as Asiya helped him to his feet and once more, draped his arm across her shoulders. They slowly walked back out into the hallway and down towards the kitchen area, the silence between them pregnant with mixed emotions.
She was thrilled he was learning to accept her help and flustered because she could finally admit this warrior had captured her heart. Feelings of love were new and frightening, not yet to be accepted and they fluttered around in her stomach, tying it into nervous knots. She was amazed in the short time she had come to know Ardeth, the depth and intensity of her feelings for him had grown. Asiya related to his sorrow, understood his pain and yearned to help him release himself from the sadness that had captured his heart for so long.
May Allah have mercy on her for Asiya realized there would come a point in time when she needed to let her warrior go. The thought of his leaving was more unsettling than the thought that somehow, she had fallen in love with Ardeth.
~*~
Loch-nah stood in the entryway of Jahm's tent, arms folded across his massive chest, his bored gaze sweeping over the area of the camp below. In the past few hours, he had impatiently assumed command over the men, sending out patrols in three different directions to check on the nearest Medjai tribes. The orders were to observe, not incite battle and to return as soon as possible with any information. At his command, Kasim had restored some resemblance of control over the camp but it still was not satisfactory enough to suit Loch-nah. If he were in charge of these men, insubordination and disregard for duty would be dealt with the logical and necessary penalty – death.
He would send back the bodies of the commanders to their people as a warning and as an intimidation tactic. He would not wait for the Medjai to strike but continue attacking their settlements, to undermine the warrior's strength and weaken them enough for one final assault.
Loch-nah uttered a dark curse over his inability to act. His choice in remaining loyal to Hafez was only tethered by the promised command over an army that could rule the world. It irked the warrior's immense pride over his helplessness to do nothing more but to wait for his employer to come from Cairo. A message had been sent yesterday. Taking the chest, they would travel to Hamunaptra and begin the process of resurrecting He That Shall Not Be Named. A task that both men had hoped would be an easy one as long as Jahm continued harassing the Medjai.
"Do you desire what you cannot have?" Jahm's sarcastic voice asked from behind.
Loch-nah refused to answer as his dark gaze swept over the camp again. Kasim was training a small group of men but the mercenary's attention was caught by the covert actions of the young Tuareg ducking inside one tent.
"Do you not think I know of the orders issued by you to my men?" Jahm questioned. "I am the one to give the commands. These are my men and I am their leader…"
"Then act like one," Loch-nah snapped. "I ask you the same question; do you desire the chest? Since its arrival, you have done nothing but hide with it, ignoring your responsibilities as a so-called leader."
"I admit my curiosity about it may have hampered my good judgment; a mistake of which I do not intend to duplicate."
Loch-nah watched as the boy emerged from the tent, stuffing a pouch underneath his already bulky tunic and quickly move to the next one. He quickly glanced around then ducked inside the English woman's tent. Loch- nah backed into the dark interior as he continued spying on the young Tuareg, his interest peaked and ignored Jahm who was still standing behind him.
"Do not let your error in good judgment happen again or I will take great pleasure in killing you." Came the growled warning.
Loch-nah heard Jahm retreat but kept his eyes focused on the tent. Minutes passed as he kept his vigil, his patience finally rewarded when the boy emerged and hurried around to the side of the next one. He fell to his knees and quickly shoved the items he had been carrying inside the prisoner's tent. Scrambling to his feet, he heard a summons from a few men nearby and hurried over to do their bidding.
Loch-nah blinked in amazement, a slow evil grin tugging up one corner of his mouth. It would appear that Jahm had a traitor amongst his men. His first instinct was to apprehend the boy to uncover the conspiracy but instead he chose not too. Better to see what transpires over the next few hours and eagerly await the outcome. It was meager entertainment at best but Loch-nah felt it would further undermine Jahm's authority and he eagerly looked forward to the outcome.
"Tell me more about the Medjai, especially Ardeth Bay." Loch-nah cajoled and turned back inside the tent.
~*~
Ardeth felt light-headed and suddenly lurched against Asiya, making them stumble as she overcompensated for his weight. They twisted and fell against one wall, her body effectively captured by the heavy weight of his body against hers. He heard her startled gasp of surprise, felt her hands come up to timidly push against his chest even as he leaned into her softness, his thighs intimately pressed against hers. He wanted to step back yet felt powerless to move. Impulsively he slid his fingers through the heavy waves of her hair, gliding through the strands as he slowly brought his hands down to cup the sides of her face. He applied the gentlest of pressure, titling her head upwards, his eyes straying down to her lips, noting they were partially open as if she seemed to have trouble catching her breath. Ardeth felt it wash over him, engulfing his soul and immersing his heart. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, deluged with feelings he had never thought to have again and he hesitated; their strength too new and overwhelming.
His eyes opened a moment later when he felt the first feather light caress of her fingers on his face. They skimmed over the tattoo's, mapping out the dark design on his skin as if committing them to memory. Her hand moved down to his mouth, exploring the fullness of his lower lip and the texture of his beard. Ardeth captured her hand and placed a small kiss on the palm, smiling to himself when he heard her startled intake of breath. He imprisoned it in both of his own and guided them to a resting place on his chest, certain she could feel the beating of his heart.
"Shukran ya Asiya hilwa," Ardeth murmured and slowly lowered his head, intent on plundering the beckoning softness of her lips. He was mildly surprised when she leaned up to meet him halfway.
A discreet cough from behind them broke the intimate spell that had cocooned them and Ardeth looked up to see Na'ima standing a few feet away, an unreadable expression on her face.
"I apologize for the intrusion…" she glanced at Asiya. "Solman has returned from Cairo with the helper."