Chapter 13
In the two-hour time frame given before Allan had to report back the fort, he thought he had played the part of the frantic yet determined husband quite well. As soon as he arrived back at the hotel, he sent yet another message to his in-laws in London. He informed them of the latest progress and of course, slipped in a small note requesting more funds for ensuring the aid of the military in their little trip. He assured them Captain Mallory seemed quite competent and knowledgeable, rather than mentioning the man's reluctance to undertake such an expedition. He closed his message with the fervent hope that by tomorrow night, he would be holding Olivia in his arms again.
It was the last part of the message that set Allan to drinking.
He sat in a large wicker chair on the balcony of his room, idly swirling around the amber colored liquor in his glass as he reviewed the past fifteen months spent with Olivia. Allan was never a realist and it frustrated him when he reached the conclusion he had always known but never had the courage to admit to himself. He married Olivia for the wealth that stemmed from her influential family. Not for love and certainly not for the adventures they lacked inside the bedroom. His wife was a means to keep Allan searching for the one elusive card game in which he could recoup all of his losses in one fell swoop. He had yet to stumble across his winning hand and had felt sure that Olivia's abduction was a sign of better things to come. The idea of her lost somewhere in the Sahara while he slowly and carefully spent her fortune was the very key to help him further his gambling career. It was her stubborn family that couldn't leave things well enough alone.
Allan gave a dry laugh and drained his glass in one swallow. "They still want to see the damn body," he muttered.
He threw the glass off to the side where it crashed onto the hard floor and slowly eased himself out of the chair. He packed what he thought was necessary and thought about Captain Mallory from the fort. Just his bloody luck that the captain was more than eager to accept monetary compensation for his efforts, but then, Allan surmised, everyone has their own price they either set or pay in the end.
He left the hotel some time later, threading his way through the crowded streets and arrived at the fort a few minutes later than anticipated. He hated the beggars that stood outside the gates and shoved them aside as he strode into the courtyard. He stopped short when he saw the captain mounted with his men.
"Mr. Merriweather, I would appreciate your efforts on punctuality improving in the near future?" Thomas asked succinctly.
Allan waved a hand at the captain as he hurried over to his horse, threw his satchel over the saddle horn quickly mounted.
"My wife is still lost in the desert, Captain. A few more minutes either way won't make a difference."
Thomas glanced uneasily at the small group of men he had chosen for this assignment and he saw Doctor Nathaniel Groves shake his head in disbelief.
"A few minutes either way could mean life or death for your wife, Mr. Merriweather. I would kindly ask you remember that in the future," reprimanded Thomas.
"Right," Allan muttered.
Thomas cleared his throat as if to ease the tension and informed the men their first stop would be Sedment el-Gebel, estimating their arrival tomorrow afternoon. He gave the signal and the men started to ride out from the fort.
"Why are we stopping already?" Allan asked and spurred his horse forward.
"I have informants there that keep me posted on most of the developments in this region. Judging from your description of your wife's appearance, her unusual coloring would not be hard to miss if she happened to come by that way, whether as a free woman or a slave," Thomas replied.
"One can only hope," Allan murmured sarcastically.
~*~
"What news do you bring, Honored Helper?" Ardeth asked.
The two men were seated in the common living area of the building that served as kitchen and classroom. Asiya with Na'ima had brought Ardeth over to one of the two cushioned chairs situated by the central hearth. When the sentry came in with the helper, the two women went over to the cooking area where Is'af was preparing the evening meal, leaving the two men to have their discussion in private.
Sued was a spry energetic little man, with a sprinkling of gray hair in his beard, his warm brown eyes alert and intense. When the men had exchanged greetings and introductions, Sued had been astonished to learn that the warrior he and Waleed had rescued a few days ago was the commander of the Eighth. He had asked if they could retire somewhere to talk explaining his delay in arriving at the compound was due to the high volume of messages passed between the tribes and helpers. Once seated, Sued first explained his reaction when finding out Ardeth's identity.
"You see it is believed among our people that since your body was never recovered at the port…you are presumed dead. The American has been with Quadamah's tribe for the past two days but the fate of Commander Nabil is uncertain. He was wounded during the battle and taken prisoner."
"Nabil captured…" Ardeth murmured sadly, concerned for the welfare of his friend. "What of the chest?"
"Captured by one of Musad's Seconds, Qutaybah. I believe you are familiar with this army of men since his predecessors were the brothers Sariyah."
"I know of them," Ardeth's response was cold and clipped.
"Once Waleed and I returned to Cairo, I received word from a helper who lives near Quadamah's settlement that the commander had sent his own men to act as messengers bearing the news of your death and Nabil's capture. I thought this odd he would not rely on his tribe's couriers and asked Waleed to ride there to investigate. For the past two days, helpers from as far away as Aniba and Edu have traveled to Middle and Lower Egypt. The sects have decided amongst themselves to help expedite messages between the tribes and our plan has been successful. We have acted as relays between all the settlements and yesterday, I learned the enemy knew of the exchange and set up the ambush."
Ardeth's attention was diverted when Asiya appeared by his side, shyly presenting a tray of tea to serve both men. He watched her gracefully pour one cup and serve the helper. She kept her eyes on the task at hand when she served Ardeth but looked up in surprise when his fingers brushed over the back of her hand in a silent caress as she handed him the cup. Cheeks blooming pink with embarrassment, she quickly hurried back to the kitchen area as Ardeth watched her retreat, appreciating the slight gentle sway of her hips.
"Commander?" Sued called.
"Please continue," Ardeth instructed and turned his attention back to the helper. "The exchange at Giza was known by Musad?"
"Aiwa. Prior to leaving for the compound, I received more news from a helper living in Deshasheh. The chest is in Musad's camp, supposedly situated just beyond Sahara el Gharbiya. The commanders of the tribes are preparing for war and it is believed they will ride out at dawn tomorrow."
Ardeth leaned forward in the chair, resting one forearm on his knee. "Are you certain of the chest's location?"
Sued shook his head. "This cannot be confirmed but I believe the helper who reported this information would have no reason to speculate. I must confess during the course of events over the past few days, no one has thought to send any news here. This compound is very secluded from the rest of the settlements. I was surprised when the sentry appeared at my home."
"How long of a ride would it be to the camp from here?" Ardeth asked and leaned back in the chair. He caught the look of concern on Asiya's face when she glanced over having heard his question but turned his attention back to the helper.
"I believe one day's ride," estimated Sued. "Do you intend to try and retrieve the chest?"
Ardeth's grim silence was answer enough.
"Commander, I do not wish to show any disrespect for your decision but there is no guarantee the chest will be there. Just as there is no certainty in finding Musad's camp. You would be risking your life in a foolish venture into the Western Desert…"
"Honoring my oath taken as a warrior is not foolish. I must do what is in my power as I seek to right my wrongs," said Ardeth in a soft yet commanding voice. "I do not need my actions questioned by a Helper."
"My apologies," Sued bowed his head in respect. "May I then offer my assistance? You will need it once you regain possession of the chest since the weight of it requires the strength of two men."
"You speak of this as a foolish venture yet you offer your help?"
"How can I not? We of the Helper Sect are also bound by an oath. I would not be honoring my vows if I did not offer my support," Sued explained.
"I gladly accept it," Ardeth said.
"There is one advantage we must exploit," Sued suddenly declared.
"Explain this advantage," Ardeth asked, intrigued.
"Remember our enemy thinks you are dead. If we were to dress as nomads we would hide our identities as Medjai. Once at the camp, our presence would not cause alarm and we would be able to complete our task with little interference. I am certain the healers have two robes we can wear."
Ardeth remained silent for a few moments, contemplating Sued's idea for disguises. He preferred wearing the traditional garb of a warrior when in battle, proudly proclaiming his ancestral heritage to his foes as Medjai. It was known to strike fear and panic in the heart of the enemy when the protectors against the curse of the Hom-Dai, the warriors for God came to extract their retribution for disturbing He That Shall Not Be Named. To hide his identity seemed absurd, but as Sued had mentioned it was an advantage to exploit. Ardeth agreed and the men continued making plans to leave the compound tomorrow morning at dawn.
~*~
"You lie," cried Quadamah's eldest son, Zubair. "There is no such thing as this…this snow that falls from the heavens."
Rick leaned back in his seat, stretched out his long legs in front of him and smiled fondly at the gaggle of children clustered around him. He hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and mentally counted six of Qudamah's children along with four of the neighbor's kids all staring at him in with a mixture of fascination and disbelief. An hour ago, Quadamah had invited him over to join them for the evening meal but at the last minute was called away for a brief meeting with a few other warriors. The commander's wife Yasmine was balancing a baby on one hip as she expertly maneuvered around the cooking area, keeping a watchful eye on her brood with a soft smile.
While Rick waited, he felt like he was under a subtle ambush.
The children had crept closer and closer to him, whispering amongst themselves and giggling. They were fascinated with him, from the color and texture of his hair to the clothes he wore. Those brave enough stepped forward to touch him and Rick turned it into a game, trying to snatch a chubby little hand that lingered too long on his arm or leg. His first victim squealed with laughter when Rick scooped him up in one arm. He stood up, tucking the child against his hip and pretended he was going to drop the boy. Squeals of laughter over this simple game endeared him to the children and they clustered around him, asking questions translated by Zubair. Questions of his home, about Evy and Alex made Rick feel homesick and he had glanced over at Yasmine holding her baby. Bittersweet regret flooded his heart for a second when he realized how big Alex probably had grown by now and he had missed it. He looked at Zubiar, guessing the boy to be around eleven or twelve years old. The long, gangly limbs and long thin torso showed the boy had the promise of his father's height as well as tenacity. Zubair just didn't ask questions, he demanded them.
"There is too," Rick finally answered. "You've had rain storms out here in the desert right?"
Zubair translated and ten dark heads all nodded in unison.
Rick suppressed a grin since they were hanging on his every word.
"Ok so picture a rain storm but its so cold out, you can see your breath. Because it's so cold, the rain gets frozen on the way down from the clouds and turns into snow. Light, fluffy snow flakes that are great for making into snowballs and snow men…"
Zubair translated again and an excited murmur swept over the children.
"Explain how you can see your breath." demanded the boy.
"Uh…oh boy," Rick scratched his head. Explaining the finer points of meteorology wasn't his strong point and thankfully Quadamah walked in before Rick could embarrass himself or embellish anything further.
The commander clapped his hands for attention, sorting through the children for his own, sending off the others with a good-natured ruffle of the hair before he greeted his wife.
Eventually he sat down and Rick shared the meal with the whole family, feeling for once more like a friend rather than an outside.
After they ate, Quadamah and Rick sat near the hearth at a small wooden table and the commander drew forth a large scroll of papyrus, unrolling it to reveal a crudely drawn map.
"This is the Sahara el Gharbiya above the Western Desert," he began. "The prisoner gave us very detailed descriptions of the area and I must again thank you for your efforts."
"No problem," said Rick with a slight grin. "Go on.'
"I've sent ten scouts ahead to track the area and report back to us, when we arrive, the best positions to place the warriors. The tribes of the Second, Seventh and Fourth will place themselves on three sides of the camp for a simultaneous attack. I have ordered Lu'ay and Tamim to accompany you to get the chest. Nothing else matters but the chest. The tribe of the Third has sent three squads that will remain near the camp but will not engage in any of the fighting. Instead they will escort you back to Giza and ensure your safe passage back to England."
"What about the City of the Dead? Do you expect an attack there?"
"All has been quiet there if not tense. Ardeth's Second Ra'id has been protecting Hamunaptra, but as a precaution, the tribes of the Sixth and Twelfth will help reinforce the Eighth. The remaining tribes of the First, Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh will act as buffers around Middle Egypt to defend off any surprise attacks."
Both men were silent for a few moments, each lost in his own thoughts regarding the upcoming journey and subsequent battle. Rick was actually amazed at the amount of warriors that made up the Medjai but couldn't help to question the warrior's outdated method of relaying messages.
"Your people are using something as old and outdated as the Pony Express was in America," he commented.
Quadamah sighed. "For many months, the warriors have petitioned the Elders to adapt a newer, faster method of relaying information between tribes. The Elders are old men who cling to the beliefs and tools of the past. Change is not accepted lightly."
"Yeah but what price do your people have to pay for lack of progress? You've lost Ardeth, probably Nabil and countless others all because your message system was sabotaged. Sounds to me you would have done better with using a phone or sending smoke signals…even carrier pigeons for God's sake."
"Birds?" Quadamah was at first puzzled until it suddenly occurred to him. "Of course, the Egyptian god Horus."
"What's he got to do with anything?" Rick was certainly confused and shook his head.
"Explain to me about using birds to relay messages," Quadamah asked.
"Uh, okay but it may not be enough to help with anything," warned Rick.
"My friend, any information given will be enough help to make the necessary changes. You will have the gratitude of me and my people."
Rick shook his head and smiled sadly, remembering a time not so long ago when he heard another say the same thing.
"I never wanted that, although I do appreciate it. I just want my friend Ardeth back. We both know that's not possible."
"Tomorrow we will avenge the loss of a friend, of a warrior brother who has been taken from us. We will honor Ardeth's memory as we ride into battle and if Allah blesses us with victory, we dedicate it in Ardeth's name. With blade, blood and bone I will honor this sacred oath."
~*~
After the evening meal Ardeth was left alone with Asiya and he watched her move around the small eating area. Na'ima escorted Sued to his chambers and Is'af took the sentries their meals. A small smile graced his lips when he remembered the countless nights he had watched Janan perform the same functions in their home. The smell of freshly baked flatbread, herbs and spices mixed with the warmth of sitting by the hearth made Ardeth reminiscent of happier times. He wondered if he would ever feel that contentment again. Suddenly, Ardeth needed to talk to Asiya and started to try and draw her into conversation. After a few minutes of listening to her short polite responses, Ardeth tried a different tactic. Asiya stood a few feet away with her back to him, sealing something in a small wooden container.
"Asiya?" he called softly. "Come and sit with me. I wish to speak with you."
She glanced up in surprise at his offer and slowly, still clutching the container in her hands, walked over and sat in the chair next to him. She refused to meet his intense gaze.
"Yamahi, what is wrong?"
"You will be leaving tomorrow morning?" she asked bluntly.
"Aiwa. Sued wanted to leave tonight, but has agreed to leave tomorrow at first light. This decision does not please you?"
Asiya nodded her head. "I have concerns."
"Explain these concerns to me," he commanded.
"It is…it is not my place to question your decisions…"Asiya stammered. "I have a fault for speaking too honestly."
"The trait of your honesty is refreshing. In the short time I have come to know you, it is a quality I have come to appreciate," Ardeth smiled to ease some of her discomfort. "You may speak plainly with me."
Asiya squared her shoulders and looked up at Ardeth, strength and resolve showing in her eyes.
"I speak as your healer and protest the idea of your departure tomorrow. You are still not fully recovered from your injury and could suffer a relapse, perhaps causing more harm. Your thigh is not healed. I do not believe you are aware of your body's physical limitations as am I."
"I am more than aware of my limitations," snapped Ardeth. "I am reminded with every step I take."
Asiya jumped at the clipped tone in Ardeth's voice, but remained silent. He sighed when she went back to staring at her hands wrapped around the container again.
"Do you have more concerns?" Ardeth prompted gently.
"Aiwa."
"Speak of them, please."
"Your body needs time to regain its strength before you undertake a hard and physically demanding ride over the course of a day in the desert. Have either you or Sued considered this ride may take longer due to the weakness in your leg? How will it affect your seat in the saddle?"
"I do not have a choice in this matter. The Elders of my tribe placed their trust in me for the exchange of the chest to be completed successfully. I failed. I cannot remain here in good conscience with the knowledge that my brother warriors are risking their lives to rectify my mistake."
"You would gladly forfeit your life in trying to appease the Elders?" asked Asiya.
Ardeth drew in a deep breath before responding, trying to retain some semblance of control over his temper. He had bravely faced hordes of the undead, battled evil incarnate and protected the lives of the innocent, yet when faced with explaining to Asiya his duty as a Medjai, he felt as awkward as a young recruit given his first lesson with a scimitar.
"I would forfeit my life to honor my vow," he responded quietly. "I am a warrior first and foremost. I had hoped that you would understand if not accept my decision."
Asiya shook her head and stared down at her hands again, subconsciously rubbing the sides of the container.
"You ask too much of me warrior. I do understand the need to honor your oath, having taken one of my own. To ask me to accept your decision of…" her voice broke with emotion. A tear escaped from the dark fringes of her lashes and rolled down her cheek.
Ardeth softly called her name and struggled to his feet. The need to soothe and reassure her within the strong circle of his arms compelled him to move and he reached out to her.
She jumped up from the chair, in the process dropping the container to the floor and moved away from him. It rolled around on the tiled floor, the only noise within the room that sounded abnormally loud. Her refusal of his comfort made Ardeth's heart constrict with a sudden pain and he watched her wipe her face, struggling for composure.
"You would be asking me to accept your death," she continued. "In doing so I would violate my own vows to cherish life. It would go against all that I believe in and have been taught."
They were silent for a few tense moments, Ardeth never more keenly aware that whatever fragile bonds had been built between them were slowly being pulled apart. Like a hand passing through the delicate octagon of a spider's web, the balance between warrior and healer suddenly shifted. Lacking a foundation in which to anchor it the web fell apart. Ardeth was powerless to stop the developing rift and his fears were confirmed a moment later.
"Perhaps we do not balance each other as I had first thought warrior. We are too different from one another and I can plainly see that now." She moved away from him and walked over to the doorway.
"You are right. I appreciate your candor." Ardeth's voice remained steady and calm, his face void of emotion. He purposely shifted his weight to his injured leg and almost welcomed the resulting pain that chewed through his psyche with dull teeth. Anything to distract his mind from the torment he felt in his heart as Asiya walked away.
"May Allah grant you a safe journey tomorrow, Commander Bay," Asiya called from the doorway. She looked back at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears then she turned and fled before he could respond.
In a brief flare of his temper, Ardeth turned and knocked over his chair in frustration. Na'ima had just walked into the room and gave a startled yelp of surprise when she saw it fly across the room. She backed up a step away from Ardeth and stared at him, one hand resting over her heart.
"Do you wish to retire to your chamber now?" she asked somewhat lamely. "I could help you walk there…"
"La," Ardeth snapped and waved off her assistance. He took a few stumbling steps towards her, striving to find the correct shift of his weight to counter balance his limping gait. By the time he reached the doorway where Na'ima was still standing, he had his temper under control and murmured an apology.
Ardeth was surprised when Na'ima stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.
"Help Asiya find the balance again warrior. It is the will of Allah that the two of you compliment the other."
Author's note: Special thanks to MArcher for use of the "carrier pigeon" idea. I hope this chapter was everything you've come to expect from me and don't worry, I'm getting to poor Nabil. ;-)
In the two-hour time frame given before Allan had to report back the fort, he thought he had played the part of the frantic yet determined husband quite well. As soon as he arrived back at the hotel, he sent yet another message to his in-laws in London. He informed them of the latest progress and of course, slipped in a small note requesting more funds for ensuring the aid of the military in their little trip. He assured them Captain Mallory seemed quite competent and knowledgeable, rather than mentioning the man's reluctance to undertake such an expedition. He closed his message with the fervent hope that by tomorrow night, he would be holding Olivia in his arms again.
It was the last part of the message that set Allan to drinking.
He sat in a large wicker chair on the balcony of his room, idly swirling around the amber colored liquor in his glass as he reviewed the past fifteen months spent with Olivia. Allan was never a realist and it frustrated him when he reached the conclusion he had always known but never had the courage to admit to himself. He married Olivia for the wealth that stemmed from her influential family. Not for love and certainly not for the adventures they lacked inside the bedroom. His wife was a means to keep Allan searching for the one elusive card game in which he could recoup all of his losses in one fell swoop. He had yet to stumble across his winning hand and had felt sure that Olivia's abduction was a sign of better things to come. The idea of her lost somewhere in the Sahara while he slowly and carefully spent her fortune was the very key to help him further his gambling career. It was her stubborn family that couldn't leave things well enough alone.
Allan gave a dry laugh and drained his glass in one swallow. "They still want to see the damn body," he muttered.
He threw the glass off to the side where it crashed onto the hard floor and slowly eased himself out of the chair. He packed what he thought was necessary and thought about Captain Mallory from the fort. Just his bloody luck that the captain was more than eager to accept monetary compensation for his efforts, but then, Allan surmised, everyone has their own price they either set or pay in the end.
He left the hotel some time later, threading his way through the crowded streets and arrived at the fort a few minutes later than anticipated. He hated the beggars that stood outside the gates and shoved them aside as he strode into the courtyard. He stopped short when he saw the captain mounted with his men.
"Mr. Merriweather, I would appreciate your efforts on punctuality improving in the near future?" Thomas asked succinctly.
Allan waved a hand at the captain as he hurried over to his horse, threw his satchel over the saddle horn quickly mounted.
"My wife is still lost in the desert, Captain. A few more minutes either way won't make a difference."
Thomas glanced uneasily at the small group of men he had chosen for this assignment and he saw Doctor Nathaniel Groves shake his head in disbelief.
"A few minutes either way could mean life or death for your wife, Mr. Merriweather. I would kindly ask you remember that in the future," reprimanded Thomas.
"Right," Allan muttered.
Thomas cleared his throat as if to ease the tension and informed the men their first stop would be Sedment el-Gebel, estimating their arrival tomorrow afternoon. He gave the signal and the men started to ride out from the fort.
"Why are we stopping already?" Allan asked and spurred his horse forward.
"I have informants there that keep me posted on most of the developments in this region. Judging from your description of your wife's appearance, her unusual coloring would not be hard to miss if she happened to come by that way, whether as a free woman or a slave," Thomas replied.
"One can only hope," Allan murmured sarcastically.
~*~
"What news do you bring, Honored Helper?" Ardeth asked.
The two men were seated in the common living area of the building that served as kitchen and classroom. Asiya with Na'ima had brought Ardeth over to one of the two cushioned chairs situated by the central hearth. When the sentry came in with the helper, the two women went over to the cooking area where Is'af was preparing the evening meal, leaving the two men to have their discussion in private.
Sued was a spry energetic little man, with a sprinkling of gray hair in his beard, his warm brown eyes alert and intense. When the men had exchanged greetings and introductions, Sued had been astonished to learn that the warrior he and Waleed had rescued a few days ago was the commander of the Eighth. He had asked if they could retire somewhere to talk explaining his delay in arriving at the compound was due to the high volume of messages passed between the tribes and helpers. Once seated, Sued first explained his reaction when finding out Ardeth's identity.
"You see it is believed among our people that since your body was never recovered at the port…you are presumed dead. The American has been with Quadamah's tribe for the past two days but the fate of Commander Nabil is uncertain. He was wounded during the battle and taken prisoner."
"Nabil captured…" Ardeth murmured sadly, concerned for the welfare of his friend. "What of the chest?"
"Captured by one of Musad's Seconds, Qutaybah. I believe you are familiar with this army of men since his predecessors were the brothers Sariyah."
"I know of them," Ardeth's response was cold and clipped.
"Once Waleed and I returned to Cairo, I received word from a helper who lives near Quadamah's settlement that the commander had sent his own men to act as messengers bearing the news of your death and Nabil's capture. I thought this odd he would not rely on his tribe's couriers and asked Waleed to ride there to investigate. For the past two days, helpers from as far away as Aniba and Edu have traveled to Middle and Lower Egypt. The sects have decided amongst themselves to help expedite messages between the tribes and our plan has been successful. We have acted as relays between all the settlements and yesterday, I learned the enemy knew of the exchange and set up the ambush."
Ardeth's attention was diverted when Asiya appeared by his side, shyly presenting a tray of tea to serve both men. He watched her gracefully pour one cup and serve the helper. She kept her eyes on the task at hand when she served Ardeth but looked up in surprise when his fingers brushed over the back of her hand in a silent caress as she handed him the cup. Cheeks blooming pink with embarrassment, she quickly hurried back to the kitchen area as Ardeth watched her retreat, appreciating the slight gentle sway of her hips.
"Commander?" Sued called.
"Please continue," Ardeth instructed and turned his attention back to the helper. "The exchange at Giza was known by Musad?"
"Aiwa. Prior to leaving for the compound, I received more news from a helper living in Deshasheh. The chest is in Musad's camp, supposedly situated just beyond Sahara el Gharbiya. The commanders of the tribes are preparing for war and it is believed they will ride out at dawn tomorrow."
Ardeth leaned forward in the chair, resting one forearm on his knee. "Are you certain of the chest's location?"
Sued shook his head. "This cannot be confirmed but I believe the helper who reported this information would have no reason to speculate. I must confess during the course of events over the past few days, no one has thought to send any news here. This compound is very secluded from the rest of the settlements. I was surprised when the sentry appeared at my home."
"How long of a ride would it be to the camp from here?" Ardeth asked and leaned back in the chair. He caught the look of concern on Asiya's face when she glanced over having heard his question but turned his attention back to the helper.
"I believe one day's ride," estimated Sued. "Do you intend to try and retrieve the chest?"
Ardeth's grim silence was answer enough.
"Commander, I do not wish to show any disrespect for your decision but there is no guarantee the chest will be there. Just as there is no certainty in finding Musad's camp. You would be risking your life in a foolish venture into the Western Desert…"
"Honoring my oath taken as a warrior is not foolish. I must do what is in my power as I seek to right my wrongs," said Ardeth in a soft yet commanding voice. "I do not need my actions questioned by a Helper."
"My apologies," Sued bowed his head in respect. "May I then offer my assistance? You will need it once you regain possession of the chest since the weight of it requires the strength of two men."
"You speak of this as a foolish venture yet you offer your help?"
"How can I not? We of the Helper Sect are also bound by an oath. I would not be honoring my vows if I did not offer my support," Sued explained.
"I gladly accept it," Ardeth said.
"There is one advantage we must exploit," Sued suddenly declared.
"Explain this advantage," Ardeth asked, intrigued.
"Remember our enemy thinks you are dead. If we were to dress as nomads we would hide our identities as Medjai. Once at the camp, our presence would not cause alarm and we would be able to complete our task with little interference. I am certain the healers have two robes we can wear."
Ardeth remained silent for a few moments, contemplating Sued's idea for disguises. He preferred wearing the traditional garb of a warrior when in battle, proudly proclaiming his ancestral heritage to his foes as Medjai. It was known to strike fear and panic in the heart of the enemy when the protectors against the curse of the Hom-Dai, the warriors for God came to extract their retribution for disturbing He That Shall Not Be Named. To hide his identity seemed absurd, but as Sued had mentioned it was an advantage to exploit. Ardeth agreed and the men continued making plans to leave the compound tomorrow morning at dawn.
~*~
"You lie," cried Quadamah's eldest son, Zubair. "There is no such thing as this…this snow that falls from the heavens."
Rick leaned back in his seat, stretched out his long legs in front of him and smiled fondly at the gaggle of children clustered around him. He hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and mentally counted six of Qudamah's children along with four of the neighbor's kids all staring at him in with a mixture of fascination and disbelief. An hour ago, Quadamah had invited him over to join them for the evening meal but at the last minute was called away for a brief meeting with a few other warriors. The commander's wife Yasmine was balancing a baby on one hip as she expertly maneuvered around the cooking area, keeping a watchful eye on her brood with a soft smile.
While Rick waited, he felt like he was under a subtle ambush.
The children had crept closer and closer to him, whispering amongst themselves and giggling. They were fascinated with him, from the color and texture of his hair to the clothes he wore. Those brave enough stepped forward to touch him and Rick turned it into a game, trying to snatch a chubby little hand that lingered too long on his arm or leg. His first victim squealed with laughter when Rick scooped him up in one arm. He stood up, tucking the child against his hip and pretended he was going to drop the boy. Squeals of laughter over this simple game endeared him to the children and they clustered around him, asking questions translated by Zubair. Questions of his home, about Evy and Alex made Rick feel homesick and he had glanced over at Yasmine holding her baby. Bittersweet regret flooded his heart for a second when he realized how big Alex probably had grown by now and he had missed it. He looked at Zubiar, guessing the boy to be around eleven or twelve years old. The long, gangly limbs and long thin torso showed the boy had the promise of his father's height as well as tenacity. Zubair just didn't ask questions, he demanded them.
"There is too," Rick finally answered. "You've had rain storms out here in the desert right?"
Zubair translated and ten dark heads all nodded in unison.
Rick suppressed a grin since they were hanging on his every word.
"Ok so picture a rain storm but its so cold out, you can see your breath. Because it's so cold, the rain gets frozen on the way down from the clouds and turns into snow. Light, fluffy snow flakes that are great for making into snowballs and snow men…"
Zubair translated again and an excited murmur swept over the children.
"Explain how you can see your breath." demanded the boy.
"Uh…oh boy," Rick scratched his head. Explaining the finer points of meteorology wasn't his strong point and thankfully Quadamah walked in before Rick could embarrass himself or embellish anything further.
The commander clapped his hands for attention, sorting through the children for his own, sending off the others with a good-natured ruffle of the hair before he greeted his wife.
Eventually he sat down and Rick shared the meal with the whole family, feeling for once more like a friend rather than an outside.
After they ate, Quadamah and Rick sat near the hearth at a small wooden table and the commander drew forth a large scroll of papyrus, unrolling it to reveal a crudely drawn map.
"This is the Sahara el Gharbiya above the Western Desert," he began. "The prisoner gave us very detailed descriptions of the area and I must again thank you for your efforts."
"No problem," said Rick with a slight grin. "Go on.'
"I've sent ten scouts ahead to track the area and report back to us, when we arrive, the best positions to place the warriors. The tribes of the Second, Seventh and Fourth will place themselves on three sides of the camp for a simultaneous attack. I have ordered Lu'ay and Tamim to accompany you to get the chest. Nothing else matters but the chest. The tribe of the Third has sent three squads that will remain near the camp but will not engage in any of the fighting. Instead they will escort you back to Giza and ensure your safe passage back to England."
"What about the City of the Dead? Do you expect an attack there?"
"All has been quiet there if not tense. Ardeth's Second Ra'id has been protecting Hamunaptra, but as a precaution, the tribes of the Sixth and Twelfth will help reinforce the Eighth. The remaining tribes of the First, Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh will act as buffers around Middle Egypt to defend off any surprise attacks."
Both men were silent for a few moments, each lost in his own thoughts regarding the upcoming journey and subsequent battle. Rick was actually amazed at the amount of warriors that made up the Medjai but couldn't help to question the warrior's outdated method of relaying messages.
"Your people are using something as old and outdated as the Pony Express was in America," he commented.
Quadamah sighed. "For many months, the warriors have petitioned the Elders to adapt a newer, faster method of relaying information between tribes. The Elders are old men who cling to the beliefs and tools of the past. Change is not accepted lightly."
"Yeah but what price do your people have to pay for lack of progress? You've lost Ardeth, probably Nabil and countless others all because your message system was sabotaged. Sounds to me you would have done better with using a phone or sending smoke signals…even carrier pigeons for God's sake."
"Birds?" Quadamah was at first puzzled until it suddenly occurred to him. "Of course, the Egyptian god Horus."
"What's he got to do with anything?" Rick was certainly confused and shook his head.
"Explain to me about using birds to relay messages," Quadamah asked.
"Uh, okay but it may not be enough to help with anything," warned Rick.
"My friend, any information given will be enough help to make the necessary changes. You will have the gratitude of me and my people."
Rick shook his head and smiled sadly, remembering a time not so long ago when he heard another say the same thing.
"I never wanted that, although I do appreciate it. I just want my friend Ardeth back. We both know that's not possible."
"Tomorrow we will avenge the loss of a friend, of a warrior brother who has been taken from us. We will honor Ardeth's memory as we ride into battle and if Allah blesses us with victory, we dedicate it in Ardeth's name. With blade, blood and bone I will honor this sacred oath."
~*~
After the evening meal Ardeth was left alone with Asiya and he watched her move around the small eating area. Na'ima escorted Sued to his chambers and Is'af took the sentries their meals. A small smile graced his lips when he remembered the countless nights he had watched Janan perform the same functions in their home. The smell of freshly baked flatbread, herbs and spices mixed with the warmth of sitting by the hearth made Ardeth reminiscent of happier times. He wondered if he would ever feel that contentment again. Suddenly, Ardeth needed to talk to Asiya and started to try and draw her into conversation. After a few minutes of listening to her short polite responses, Ardeth tried a different tactic. Asiya stood a few feet away with her back to him, sealing something in a small wooden container.
"Asiya?" he called softly. "Come and sit with me. I wish to speak with you."
She glanced up in surprise at his offer and slowly, still clutching the container in her hands, walked over and sat in the chair next to him. She refused to meet his intense gaze.
"Yamahi, what is wrong?"
"You will be leaving tomorrow morning?" she asked bluntly.
"Aiwa. Sued wanted to leave tonight, but has agreed to leave tomorrow at first light. This decision does not please you?"
Asiya nodded her head. "I have concerns."
"Explain these concerns to me," he commanded.
"It is…it is not my place to question your decisions…"Asiya stammered. "I have a fault for speaking too honestly."
"The trait of your honesty is refreshing. In the short time I have come to know you, it is a quality I have come to appreciate," Ardeth smiled to ease some of her discomfort. "You may speak plainly with me."
Asiya squared her shoulders and looked up at Ardeth, strength and resolve showing in her eyes.
"I speak as your healer and protest the idea of your departure tomorrow. You are still not fully recovered from your injury and could suffer a relapse, perhaps causing more harm. Your thigh is not healed. I do not believe you are aware of your body's physical limitations as am I."
"I am more than aware of my limitations," snapped Ardeth. "I am reminded with every step I take."
Asiya jumped at the clipped tone in Ardeth's voice, but remained silent. He sighed when she went back to staring at her hands wrapped around the container again.
"Do you have more concerns?" Ardeth prompted gently.
"Aiwa."
"Speak of them, please."
"Your body needs time to regain its strength before you undertake a hard and physically demanding ride over the course of a day in the desert. Have either you or Sued considered this ride may take longer due to the weakness in your leg? How will it affect your seat in the saddle?"
"I do not have a choice in this matter. The Elders of my tribe placed their trust in me for the exchange of the chest to be completed successfully. I failed. I cannot remain here in good conscience with the knowledge that my brother warriors are risking their lives to rectify my mistake."
"You would gladly forfeit your life in trying to appease the Elders?" asked Asiya.
Ardeth drew in a deep breath before responding, trying to retain some semblance of control over his temper. He had bravely faced hordes of the undead, battled evil incarnate and protected the lives of the innocent, yet when faced with explaining to Asiya his duty as a Medjai, he felt as awkward as a young recruit given his first lesson with a scimitar.
"I would forfeit my life to honor my vow," he responded quietly. "I am a warrior first and foremost. I had hoped that you would understand if not accept my decision."
Asiya shook her head and stared down at her hands again, subconsciously rubbing the sides of the container.
"You ask too much of me warrior. I do understand the need to honor your oath, having taken one of my own. To ask me to accept your decision of…" her voice broke with emotion. A tear escaped from the dark fringes of her lashes and rolled down her cheek.
Ardeth softly called her name and struggled to his feet. The need to soothe and reassure her within the strong circle of his arms compelled him to move and he reached out to her.
She jumped up from the chair, in the process dropping the container to the floor and moved away from him. It rolled around on the tiled floor, the only noise within the room that sounded abnormally loud. Her refusal of his comfort made Ardeth's heart constrict with a sudden pain and he watched her wipe her face, struggling for composure.
"You would be asking me to accept your death," she continued. "In doing so I would violate my own vows to cherish life. It would go against all that I believe in and have been taught."
They were silent for a few tense moments, Ardeth never more keenly aware that whatever fragile bonds had been built between them were slowly being pulled apart. Like a hand passing through the delicate octagon of a spider's web, the balance between warrior and healer suddenly shifted. Lacking a foundation in which to anchor it the web fell apart. Ardeth was powerless to stop the developing rift and his fears were confirmed a moment later.
"Perhaps we do not balance each other as I had first thought warrior. We are too different from one another and I can plainly see that now." She moved away from him and walked over to the doorway.
"You are right. I appreciate your candor." Ardeth's voice remained steady and calm, his face void of emotion. He purposely shifted his weight to his injured leg and almost welcomed the resulting pain that chewed through his psyche with dull teeth. Anything to distract his mind from the torment he felt in his heart as Asiya walked away.
"May Allah grant you a safe journey tomorrow, Commander Bay," Asiya called from the doorway. She looked back at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears then she turned and fled before he could respond.
In a brief flare of his temper, Ardeth turned and knocked over his chair in frustration. Na'ima had just walked into the room and gave a startled yelp of surprise when she saw it fly across the room. She backed up a step away from Ardeth and stared at him, one hand resting over her heart.
"Do you wish to retire to your chamber now?" she asked somewhat lamely. "I could help you walk there…"
"La," Ardeth snapped and waved off her assistance. He took a few stumbling steps towards her, striving to find the correct shift of his weight to counter balance his limping gait. By the time he reached the doorway where Na'ima was still standing, he had his temper under control and murmured an apology.
Ardeth was surprised when Na'ima stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.
"Help Asiya find the balance again warrior. It is the will of Allah that the two of you compliment the other."
Author's note: Special thanks to MArcher for use of the "carrier pigeon" idea. I hope this chapter was everything you've come to expect from me and don't worry, I'm getting to poor Nabil. ;-)