AN: Yes, VERY long time between updates... heh heh. I had a bit of a block and kinda went and
wrote a twenty seven chapter Labyrinth story instead but, I'm back. Review me, nag me, motivate
me. The first one is a requirement, the second two are optional. =)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply because, well, the world would end otherwise... *insert
spooky music* Whoooo....
**************************** Akayla Bay: Chapter Five ******************************
"Sleep well?" Alex looked up at the cheerful voice that hailed him and found Geitran beaming.
Alex ran one tired hand through tangled hair and glowered as he let the flap of his borrowed
tent close behind him.
"No," he replied shortly and left it at that as he stood and stretched in the weak dawn's
light. Geitran's smile slipped and he stepped forward, putting one hand on Alex's shoulder.
"Grief... grief does get easier with time. The wound heals and, there will always be scars,
but the pain lessens." The young Englishman sighed softly and nodded, secure in wisdom greater
than his twenty eight years.
"I know. I know." His gaze grew distant as he stared at a point slightly over the Medjai's
shoulder. "What? Where do we go now? Its been two nights..." It was Geitran's turn to sigh.
"Yes, it has. I, hopefully we will go through Ardeth's things today, look for clues as to why
he asked for your presence. Even perhaps why he died so suddenly."
Alex's eyes snapped to the nomad's lined face. "He died from a scorpion sting. Akayla, his own
daughter, said so. I've heard others say so."
Geitran snorted. "Ardeth Bay stood at the maw of utter chaos, of certain death, and lived.
Lived through the death of a wife and leadership of a tribe in our harsh desert home. He was
healthy and strong. Coincidence only stretches so far before that thin line is the taunt net of
Fate.
"The man you called friend died from a scorpion sting, yes, but why? There are forces in this
world we cannot name, let alone understand. And many of them know you, your parents, and
Ardeth Bay. Many resent the fact that our world is not consumed by fire and Imhotep's iron
rule. Many called him lord and master, things not wholly part of this world yet, not barred
totally from it. Wraiths, shadows, petty evils that could provide mortality's kiss sooner
than need have been."
Alex's somber eyes searched the Medjai's sad, heavy gaze. Searched and saw the truth and
belief behind the cryptic words. He expelled a heavy breath. "You think something magical,
powerful even, killed Ardeth. You think he suspected what would happen, that death would steal
him. That's why he sent for me."
"Yes."
Alex turned his heel and strode back towards the Medjai camp. Back towards the tent that stood
apart from the others, quiet, still, even in the fierce desert wind. A tent that had stood
untouched, on Akayla's grief stricken orders, for three weeks. A tent that hadn't seen life
since Ardeth had breathed his last.
Geitran, with a curse, followed as dawn turned the desert around them a thousand glorious
shades of pink and gold.
***************************************************************************************
Akayla Bay looked up, face a storm, hand poised above an unopened leather bound book on top of
a rickety desk in her father's tent. The flap was flung open in one decisive movement before
the man behind that movement stopped suddenly, surprised by the sight of her.
Alex O'Connell was framed for one moment against the rising sun, a tall, dark silhoutte softened
by the rays that filtered around him like a halo. Her throat constricted and the young woman
looked away for a moment, to compose herself, to banish the sudden memory of her father. To
banish the thought of him loving this man, this outsider, this intruder enough to bring him
here. To ask him to come to his home, her home, their home.
To bring this man into their lives, once shared, now broken by Ardeth's death. Akayla Bay had
never loved anyone else but her father. And he was ash, dust, memories.
Kayla reached up and wiped sudden tears away angrily. Angry at the weakness in herself, angry
at her father, and angriest at all at the Englishman who would not go away. At the foreigner
who defied her. At the man who mourned as deeply as she did.
"Why are you here?" Her slightly accented voice was icy velvet. Lower than a normal woman's
but hardly masculine. It was a voice that many women had taken years to perfect. A voice for
back parlors and private rooms. It was a voice that could purr and growl all at once. A voice
that could crawl under a man's skin and run fingers up his spine.
A voice that was wasted on this young woman. Akayla Bay had killed her first man when she was
eight. She was not a creature of perfumes or make ups. She was something wild, untamed, free
as the western wind and just as ominous. She was beautiful despite herself and hated it.
Alex O'Connell hesitated another moment before ducking and entering the tent. Akayla's amber
gaze narrowed and darkened in mute response. The man met her eyes unflinchingly, openly. She
might have called him foolish but there was something, some glint of intelligence, of subtle
wit, that warned her not to underestimate the man before her, no matter how much she wished to
ignore and discredit him.
"I will not leave until I discover why Ardeth summoned me. If there are clues anywhere then
they are here."
Akayla raised her chin defiantly, hauntingly, every inch a Medjai leader. "And what gives you
the right to enter his quarters? Who gave you permission?" Alex laughed and it was a brittle
harsh thing. Kayla bristled in mute response. He took a step closer, clean features shifting
into steel.
She took a step backwards in surprise before she realized that her movements signaled retreat.
Akayla Bay stood her ground and went slowly towards her knives as Alex O'Connell advanced and
stopped an uncomfortably close six inches from her.
He stared down at her livid face, the steel and resolve in his own never wavering and only
barely masking his sudden anger. Kayla swallowed but otherwise didn't move. She never backed
down, never, couldn't.
"I need no one permission Akayla Bay. I am a free man, not bound or ruled by anyone. Anyone,
especially some spoiled child who lashes out in petty anger because of her inability to deal
with grief."
Akayla hissed.
"And what are you doing Alex O'Connell? I see the anger in you; I see the rage."
And for a moment her small fingers slid and grasped the hilt of one of her knives, afraid she
had pushed the Englishman too hard as fury blossomed and died in his pale, strange eyes. Akayla
watched silently as the tense line of his shoulders broke and he relaxed. He took a small step
back, granting Kayla the personal space she demanded by attitude and presence alone.
She was most taken back when he bowed shallowly to her though, respect not deference clear in
the gesture.
"Forgive me Akayla Bay. I was also acting out of my emotions."
She pretended to ignore the tears that glimmered in his eyes. A man should never cry,
especially not in front of a woman, but here, as they stood, two strangers who had both loved
one dead man as a father, Akayla wouldn't, couldn't see his tears as evidence of a weakness.
Any other she would have scoffed at. But this outsider, this Alex O'Connell mourned for Ardeth
Bay and that, that imperious, impervious, Kayla understood all too well.
Instead of replying to the unexpected apology she reached instead for the book. "Come, let us
see if we can find the answers to our questions."
********************************************************************************************
Geitran entered a moment later and raised wintry brows at the obvious, unexpected truce.
wrote a twenty seven chapter Labyrinth story instead but, I'm back. Review me, nag me, motivate
me. The first one is a requirement, the second two are optional. =)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply because, well, the world would end otherwise... *insert
spooky music* Whoooo....
**************************** Akayla Bay: Chapter Five ******************************
"Sleep well?" Alex looked up at the cheerful voice that hailed him and found Geitran beaming.
Alex ran one tired hand through tangled hair and glowered as he let the flap of his borrowed
tent close behind him.
"No," he replied shortly and left it at that as he stood and stretched in the weak dawn's
light. Geitran's smile slipped and he stepped forward, putting one hand on Alex's shoulder.
"Grief... grief does get easier with time. The wound heals and, there will always be scars,
but the pain lessens." The young Englishman sighed softly and nodded, secure in wisdom greater
than his twenty eight years.
"I know. I know." His gaze grew distant as he stared at a point slightly over the Medjai's
shoulder. "What? Where do we go now? Its been two nights..." It was Geitran's turn to sigh.
"Yes, it has. I, hopefully we will go through Ardeth's things today, look for clues as to why
he asked for your presence. Even perhaps why he died so suddenly."
Alex's eyes snapped to the nomad's lined face. "He died from a scorpion sting. Akayla, his own
daughter, said so. I've heard others say so."
Geitran snorted. "Ardeth Bay stood at the maw of utter chaos, of certain death, and lived.
Lived through the death of a wife and leadership of a tribe in our harsh desert home. He was
healthy and strong. Coincidence only stretches so far before that thin line is the taunt net of
Fate.
"The man you called friend died from a scorpion sting, yes, but why? There are forces in this
world we cannot name, let alone understand. And many of them know you, your parents, and
Ardeth Bay. Many resent the fact that our world is not consumed by fire and Imhotep's iron
rule. Many called him lord and master, things not wholly part of this world yet, not barred
totally from it. Wraiths, shadows, petty evils that could provide mortality's kiss sooner
than need have been."
Alex's somber eyes searched the Medjai's sad, heavy gaze. Searched and saw the truth and
belief behind the cryptic words. He expelled a heavy breath. "You think something magical,
powerful even, killed Ardeth. You think he suspected what would happen, that death would steal
him. That's why he sent for me."
"Yes."
Alex turned his heel and strode back towards the Medjai camp. Back towards the tent that stood
apart from the others, quiet, still, even in the fierce desert wind. A tent that had stood
untouched, on Akayla's grief stricken orders, for three weeks. A tent that hadn't seen life
since Ardeth had breathed his last.
Geitran, with a curse, followed as dawn turned the desert around them a thousand glorious
shades of pink and gold.
***************************************************************************************
Akayla Bay looked up, face a storm, hand poised above an unopened leather bound book on top of
a rickety desk in her father's tent. The flap was flung open in one decisive movement before
the man behind that movement stopped suddenly, surprised by the sight of her.
Alex O'Connell was framed for one moment against the rising sun, a tall, dark silhoutte softened
by the rays that filtered around him like a halo. Her throat constricted and the young woman
looked away for a moment, to compose herself, to banish the sudden memory of her father. To
banish the thought of him loving this man, this outsider, this intruder enough to bring him
here. To ask him to come to his home, her home, their home.
To bring this man into their lives, once shared, now broken by Ardeth's death. Akayla Bay had
never loved anyone else but her father. And he was ash, dust, memories.
Kayla reached up and wiped sudden tears away angrily. Angry at the weakness in herself, angry
at her father, and angriest at all at the Englishman who would not go away. At the foreigner
who defied her. At the man who mourned as deeply as she did.
"Why are you here?" Her slightly accented voice was icy velvet. Lower than a normal woman's
but hardly masculine. It was a voice that many women had taken years to perfect. A voice for
back parlors and private rooms. It was a voice that could purr and growl all at once. A voice
that could crawl under a man's skin and run fingers up his spine.
A voice that was wasted on this young woman. Akayla Bay had killed her first man when she was
eight. She was not a creature of perfumes or make ups. She was something wild, untamed, free
as the western wind and just as ominous. She was beautiful despite herself and hated it.
Alex O'Connell hesitated another moment before ducking and entering the tent. Akayla's amber
gaze narrowed and darkened in mute response. The man met her eyes unflinchingly, openly. She
might have called him foolish but there was something, some glint of intelligence, of subtle
wit, that warned her not to underestimate the man before her, no matter how much she wished to
ignore and discredit him.
"I will not leave until I discover why Ardeth summoned me. If there are clues anywhere then
they are here."
Akayla raised her chin defiantly, hauntingly, every inch a Medjai leader. "And what gives you
the right to enter his quarters? Who gave you permission?" Alex laughed and it was a brittle
harsh thing. Kayla bristled in mute response. He took a step closer, clean features shifting
into steel.
She took a step backwards in surprise before she realized that her movements signaled retreat.
Akayla Bay stood her ground and went slowly towards her knives as Alex O'Connell advanced and
stopped an uncomfortably close six inches from her.
He stared down at her livid face, the steel and resolve in his own never wavering and only
barely masking his sudden anger. Kayla swallowed but otherwise didn't move. She never backed
down, never, couldn't.
"I need no one permission Akayla Bay. I am a free man, not bound or ruled by anyone. Anyone,
especially some spoiled child who lashes out in petty anger because of her inability to deal
with grief."
Akayla hissed.
"And what are you doing Alex O'Connell? I see the anger in you; I see the rage."
And for a moment her small fingers slid and grasped the hilt of one of her knives, afraid she
had pushed the Englishman too hard as fury blossomed and died in his pale, strange eyes. Akayla
watched silently as the tense line of his shoulders broke and he relaxed. He took a small step
back, granting Kayla the personal space she demanded by attitude and presence alone.
She was most taken back when he bowed shallowly to her though, respect not deference clear in
the gesture.
"Forgive me Akayla Bay. I was also acting out of my emotions."
She pretended to ignore the tears that glimmered in his eyes. A man should never cry,
especially not in front of a woman, but here, as they stood, two strangers who had both loved
one dead man as a father, Akayla wouldn't, couldn't see his tears as evidence of a weakness.
Any other she would have scoffed at. But this outsider, this Alex O'Connell mourned for Ardeth
Bay and that, that imperious, impervious, Kayla understood all too well.
Instead of replying to the unexpected apology she reached instead for the book. "Come, let us
see if we can find the answers to our questions."
********************************************************************************************
Geitran entered a moment later and raised wintry brows at the obvious, unexpected truce.