Amira paused at the entrance of the tent as she caught him watching the woman from a respectful distance. She knew that her husband felt a great measure of responsibility for the woman's current condition, even though the healers who had attended her injuries had reported that her wounds appeared to be from some older battle. They were not serious and would heal properly with a few days rest.
He was angry still though, she could see it in his tightness of his face and the frown that just would not leave. He was almost as annoyed as he had been when he had arrived back at the camp with the woman slung over his horse, ranting and raving about having been attacked by a masked thief. Questioning what a woman was doing out there alone. Saying it was her fault for sneaking up on him.
Still Amira knew that it was Ardeth's way to take the blame. He had responsibility. He had duty. Anything which went wrong in this land was obviously his fault. She smiled slightly. Yes, that was exactly what the serious leader in her husband was thinking. Two years of marriage had allowed her to become more than aware of the burden he put upon his shoulders.
"Your gaze will not help her heal," she said quietly, stepping out of the shadows and into the firelight and making her presence known.
Ardeth was not surprised by her arrival. He knew if he did not return to their tent she would seek him out. She may not be quite the traditional wife, but she took good care of him.
He shook his head in shame, turning his gaze back to the woman who had still not regained consciousness, "Then perhaps force of will can."
Amira nodded, knowingly. She took his hand.
"Come," she said, meaning to lead him outside.
Ardeth paused momentarily, not wanting to leave but realising that what his wife had to say was probably worth listening to. She was as wise as she was beautiful - a fact that had first attracted him to her when his uncles had had other women in mind as candidates for his bride. Nodding in acceptance, he allowed her to take him out into the relative coolness of the desert night.
"Don't worry so," she insisted, "She will be fine and blaming yourself for her injuries is of no consequence. I seem to remember you saying she attacked you."
"I should have realised," Ardeth said, with an irritated sigh, "I could have disarmed her without harming her."
Amira raised a curious eyebrow, "You would make allowances because she is a woman?"
"It was neither an honourable nor noble act."
"She is a warrior, Ardeth," Amira reminded him, "Do you think she would hesitate to kill you because you are a man?"
Of course, Ardeth knew what his wife was saying was true. The woman had been an agile and proficient fighter. But still, it went against everything he had ever been taught or had prided himself on to attack a woman in such a way.
"I seem to remember you made such allowances for me once," Amira said with a smile, "I thought you would have learnt from that mistake."
Ardeth smiled for the first time since his return, "I find it hard to believe any woman could be the wild cat you once were."
He unwittingly rubbed the arm which bore the scar of the day he had fallen in love with her. It had been his idea to train the women of their tribe to defend themselves. The sands of Hamunaptra were becoming restless, and it had come to his attention that the men who may be called upon to lay down their lives would be forced to leave their families at home unprotected. The least he could do was see to it that their wives and daughters were able to care for themselves. He had had no idea that he would find such a fierce fighter as Amira. The only woman who had presented a challenge to him. The one who had sliced his arm before he could realise her proficiency. That small glimpse at her spirit had captured him and he had not been able to look upon another woman since.
"'Once were'?", Amira questioned, with a teasing smile, "Do you believe you have tamed me?"
Ardeth shook his head, "I would not dare to presume such a thing. I would be too worried about what retribution you would take."
Amira laughed slightly, "The Medjai leader? Afraid of a simple woman? The men will talk."
"I consider you anything but simple, my love."
"I'd wager that our guest is not either," she said, bringing them back to the matter at hand.
"Well, here is your chance to find out," Ardeth said, motioning towards the attending woman who had left the tent and was heading for them.
"My Lord," she said, bowing her head slightly at Ardeth, "She is awake."
*********************************************************************************
Entering the tent, Ardeth paused slightly, taking in the countenance of the woman who sat up on the bed, protesting the fussing of the second attending woman. It was always advisable to know your enemy.
A fine looking woman, but to his biased eyes she was not the match of his own wife. She reminded him a little of a slightly older and more confident Evelyn Carnahan, although her hair was completely straight and held up in a rough ponytail. She had the look he associated with many a well pampered English noblewoman but with dark, more tanned skin and a more fierce manner. She sat there so tensely he half expected her to dive at his throat.
She returned his gaze, annoyed and mildly interested, but not afraid. Their was an air of confidence about her being that made Ardeth feel slightly uneasy. It was as if she knew something he didn't and was delighting in toying with him.
Eventually she spoke and he realised that her parents must have spent good money on her education to produce such a cut glass English accent.
"You were the one who attacked me."
A little taken back by such a blunt statement, Ardeth frowned sternly, "As I seem to recall, you came up behind me with guns."
"I was protecting myself," she justified, "I saw you with my horse and thought you were a thief."
Ardeth baulked, insulted by the accusation.
"Who are you?", he demanded sharply, "What are you doing here?"
She glared at him, affronted by his abrupt manner.
"I hope you realise that I will not be inclined to say a word if you talk to me like that," she declared, her voice hard, "I am not one of your men nor one of your wives. I do not respond well to commands."
Ardeth shared a look with Amira who simple smiled, apparently amused by the battle of wills she was witnessing. In truth she was his only wife. Whilst their laws allowed it, he could never love another woman the way he did her and so he saw little point in trying to find another. Besides, as he had often teased her, one was quite enough.
"You are on our lands," he said to the woman, tempering his irritation to facilitate their conversation, "And you will answers our questions."
He was certainly not used to be spoken to in such a manner, but he realised that this woman would undoubtedly make his life harder if he lost his temper. It had been a long day and he could very well do without such trouble.
"No," she said, shaking her head, "I will answer your questions because I need your help."
He paused momentarily, she seemed sincere enough and he had no reason not to believe her.
"Go on," he said eventually, sitting opposite her.
"You know, in polite society it is customary to introduce oneself before engaging in conversation," she pointed out.
"I also believe that in polite society it is not customary to greet someone at gun point either," he countered dryly.
She nodded slightly, conceding the point.
"My name is Eliana Cartwright."
"Ardeth Bay," he introduced, "And this is my wife Amira." A wave of his had invited her to join them. Even though he knew she preferred to sit in the background and listen unnoticed, he valued her council too greatly to not have her involved.
"My parents were Egyptologists, based for many years at Thebes and Abydos," she began without ceremony, "A few months ago they returned to Cairo for reasons they wouldn't explain to me. Weeks later they disappeared. I was told that they were last seen heading out into the desert."
"So you decided to look for them?" Amira questioned, "How did you ever hope to find them?"
"I know my parents," she explained simply, "Besides, what else should I have done? Waited and hoped they'd return?"
"It was a foolish thing to do," Ardeth insisted, "There was little chance you would find them and it is not safe for a woman to travel alone in this desert."
"Nor in groups it seems," she said stonily, ignoring what she considered his arrogance in the interest of continuing her story. "I was travelling in the desert, two days from Fort Brydon when I came across a group of women being attacked by men on horse back. At first I thought they were the fierce Medjai I had heard about, protecting their temples and treasure."
Amira saw Ardeth's fists clench at the accusation and she gently placed her hand on his to calm his spirit. She knew he was insulted but for now he should just forbear.
"But when I got closer they appeared to be hired thugs, sent to kill. I intervened but managed to save only one of the women, getting a battering for my troubles in the process. I assume I passed out because the next thing I recall is waking at an oasis. The woman was apparently long gone having left me with a few souvenirs. Namely this."
She dropped the Bedouin dress she had been fitted with off of her shoulders just to reveal the tattoo Ardeth had been earlier.
"And this note."
She pulled a folded piece of paper from under the pillow where she had hidden it and handed it across to him. Ardeth unfolded the delicate paper carefully and read the words inscribed in a black charcoal material.
'We, the Guardians of Sekhmet, protectors of the land of Egypt thank you for your courage and ask for your forgiveness. For by helping us you have forced me to lay upon you a burden I am no longer able to bear. I, Malika, appointed leader of our people pass this duty on to you of our spirit. You owe us nothing, but know this: what was stolen from the tombs we protect must not reach the City of the Dead. If it should the sky shall be ruled by evil and greed. The race of men will fall before His feet in an sandstorm of heat and blood. For he who controls Him, controls the world.'
Ardeth was more than a little surprised. The Guardians of Sekhmet were a group even more elusive than the Medjai. They were the females descended from Sekhmet's priestesses, of a blood line more ancient than the pyramids themselves. A bloodline that, if accounts were to be believed, stemmed back beyond the time of the Old Kingdom to when Egypt was still in its infancy. They had long been charged with the protection of Egypt from the dark magicks, and conflicting reports either had them extinct centuries ago or still guarding the lost cities, burial chambers and temples.
Ardeth looked up at her, purposely keeping his demeanour calm, "And so you came?"
"There is no need to sound so surprised," she said, offended by the tone he had taken. She rubbed her arm and grumbled.
"I could have lived without the damn tattoo though."
"How could you be so sure the note was true?" he asked curiously, feeling that she was still concealing something.
Eliana reached inside her dress a pulled out a golden chain she was wearing. On it hung a pendent matching the tattoo she now bore. The eyes of the lion headed goddess glittered in the dancing firelight. They were gems - a ruby and an emerald.
"She also left me this," she explained, darkly, "It was my mother's. And I would like to know how she got it. I knew the Medjai protect Hamunuptra and so I came here, seeking your help."
"And tell me, was I meant to help you before or after you shot me?" he enquired dryly.
"I wouldn't have killed you," she said, annoyed at his unprofessional manner. Although whether 'desert guardian' was technically a profession or not, she wasn't sure.
"And if it hadn't have been for your 'slash-first-ask-questions-later policy we'd have gotten off on a much better footing," she added.
He let it go, having the distinct feeling there was no point in getting into a further debate with this woman. She was emotional, clearly concerned about her parents and would not easily back down.
"And what made you think we would help you?" he continued evasively. It was not like the Medjai to broadcast their activities or purpose. It made him wonder where she had gotten her information.
She smiled slightly, the first he could remember seeing on her face, "Because you are the Medjai, and it is your duty to protect this land."
Still he refused to acknowledge her claims, "And from where did you hear such a report?
"Rick O'Connell," she said, finally playing her trump card which she knew would shock him, "I believe you know him rather well."