AN: Big thanks to everyone who took the time to review... MArcher, Kat Morning (THANK YOU for
the comprehensive Egyptian Mythology site!), Catt, LglyNtBlnd, *your name here*.... I thrive
off of reviews and do accept constructive criticism fairly well. Okay, I don't burn down
buildings and that's a plus, right? LOL Neway, please review, or at least enjoy the newest
chapter.
And if these author notes weren't real coherent blame it on the raging fever I have. And no,
I'm not one of those happy sick people, or pretty ones either. ;)
Standard disclaimers apply because I'm too sick to think of anything else. =)
**************************** Akayla Bay: Chapter Six *******************************
Kayla's brows gathered like storm clouds at the bridge of her aristocratic nose, eyes darkening
with frustration and some small amount of further anger as she attempted to read what she
assumed to be her dead father's diary, or journal.
"Its in English," she spat finally as tanned, roughened fingers delicately turned yet another
page. Her gaze grew dangerous as she indignantly glared up at the Englishman who stood, almost
hovering, behind and over her, like some pale, blonde haired shadow. The metaphor annoyed her,
more than it probably should.
"Let me read it..." Alex O'Connell made as if to reach for the leather bound book. Akayla
snarled and stepped out of his grasp, book clutched stubbornly to her breast as she continued
to glare, dividing her attention equally between the intrusive Englishman and Geitran who had
managed to slip into the tent almost unnoticed.
Not unnoticed.
Akayla's senses didn't allow that kind of danger. She knew what was happening around her at
all times. Always had. Necessity made her a light sleeper.
"Akayla," the elder Medjai chided as he stepped forward to stand next to an exasperated Alex in
an unconscious show of male solidarity. Kayla snorted.
"This book may contain some of my father's most personal thoughts, feelings, memories, I will
not have them desecrated by him!" The him she referred to was obvious. Alex's patience
snapped.
"Yes, it might. Have you even considered why it was written in English Akayla Bay? Perhaps so
that you could not read them. Ardeth and I have written of many things over the years. I knew
him just as well, just as intimately, as you. Why am I so unworthy? Perhaps the reason I was
called was because I was meant to be the one to read his last words..."
Akayla's full mouth shut and firmed into a thin line of suppressed rage. She started to snap a
response and stopped as the weakness of her argument resounded stupidly in her own head...
'Because you aren't one of us. Because you haven't lived at the edge of civilization all your
life. Because you have always had enough to eat. Because you still burn under the desert's
fierce sun. Because your cheeks are unmarked, unstained, by the tattoos that bind me to duty
and honor and loyalty. Because you are different!'
Alex O'Connell was unworthy in Akayla's eyes because he wasn't her. It was a damned awful
reason but then, Kayla had never done well at explaining herself, her thoughts, her motives.
Few demanded that of her. She simply was. She simply existed.
She dealt with consequences, not questions. Not with Englishmen who would not leave her alone!
Ardeth's death made her ache, made some part within her she thought long dead hurt, and that in
turn made her feel vulnerable. Akayla Bay was used to crushing vulnerability, not living it.
It made her guarded, more so than normal. Made her want to lash out and this pale, assured man
from lands far, far away, this Outsider, was a too convenient target. Especially when his words
held truths that proud, proud Akayla had no desire to hear.
She knew she was acting childishly, dishonorable, and, frankly, hardly cared.
The book sailed through the air and thumped Alex O'Connell squarely in a well muscled chest.
The Englishman raised his brows in askance and she simply glared in mute response. The book was
the only concession he was getting out of her and, after a long moment, he was smart enough to
realize that.
Without another word Alex set the book on the table, opened it, and started to read.
**********************************************************************************************
He hadn't been at all sure that the fiery Akayla Bay would react favorably when he had
suggested that it be him to read the book. Doubtless there were Medjai who had the ability to
read English and he had half feared that she would respond to the journal by bringing some
stranger in to decipher Ardeth's last thoughts, if she didn't put a dagger through his throat
first.
There were depths and patience not noticeable at first in Ardeth Bay's only daughter.
The book smacked him, hard, in the chest, as she threw it in pure ill temper.
Though he was rapidly expending what good will was left in the fiery Medjai woman.
The first pages he read revealed that this was indeed a journal, a man's diary, that begun the
day of Ardeth's wedding, directly after Ahm Shere.
'I married today... A woman that was chosen for me years ago from a distant tribe. I was
struck at first sight though. She's beautiful, no more so than many of our people, but there's
a delicate, frail air about her that is unusual. That makes me feel protective towards her,
more so then I would normally be.
'We seem well suited. I hope our tentative friendship grows to something deeper in time. Fate
guides us all, perhaps I will be shepherded down the road of love, perhaps not. But I want to
love my new wife.'
Alex swallowed, glanced up at a silent, brooding, waiting Akayla, the ever patient Geitran,
and, after flipping forward several pages, continued to skim.
'I am a father and a widower in one breath, one heartbeat, one life defining moment today. I
have never felt so shaped by one death, or one wailing birth. I named my daughter Akayla as I
buried her mother.
'I have faced many things in my time on earth but the thought of raising, teaching, being
responsible for something so utterly helpless... It is a solemn thought, a touching
experience. I am a father today, first and foremost, even as I grieve.'
He skipped more pages this time, and fought the urge to read his almost father's life like a
book, but paused at one dog eared page, unable to help himself.
'My daughter became a murderer today. God help me, my flesh and blood took another life. She
was brave, so brave, a man would have been considered brave but a girl of eight...
'No father should live to see their child kill.
'No father should have to wash a man's blood from their only daughter's hands.
'I love her still, I always will, but sometimes I'm afraid of the person I'm creating. Much of
my life has been pain and destruction. I don't want that for Akayla but I don't know how much
of a choice she's going to give me. She always reaches for a sword instead of colorful
ribbons. I think my biggest, my only weakness, if that I can never find it in my heart to say
no. Not to her.'
Alex flipped to the end of the journal. A bookmark of sorts, a single feather, opened one of
the very last pages to a letter clearly addressed to him. He swallowed again, wet suddenly dry
lips, and read on.
'Dear Alex... If you are reading this then my worst fears have come to pass. I am dead or so
lost neither you nor Akayla can find me.
'Akayla... I'm sure she must have come as no small surprise, though shock was probably greater
on her end than yours. Its not that I consciously kept knowledge of her from you, or of you
from her. I am, was, one man but you both knew different sides of me. To you, I was the man
who stood by your side as Ahm Shere sank beneath the burning sands. To Akayla I was a father,
a leader, her anchor in a world that held little else for her.
'But that is not why I wrote this letter.
'Almost thirty years ago, when your parents and I faced Imhotep for the first time, in the
tunnels under Hamunaptra I made a pact, a bargain, that must be fulfilled. I was hemmed in,
trapped, by the monster's creatures, henchmen. Your father was torn between helping me or
going after the beast and your mother.
'I remember the panic on his face, the indecision. I remember the calm weight that many call
bravery settling in my stomach. My voice was calm, firm when I made his decision for him.
"Kill the monster, save the girl!"
'Your father took my advice. I was prepared to die in that moment Alex, to die in the arms of
rotting corpses' arms, sword flashing as I cut through bandages that reeked of death thousands
of years old.
'Should have died.
'But then, ironically enough, if you believe it, there was light.
'And from the light stepped forward a relic, a remnant, from a civilization that had fallen
three thousand years ago. The Goddess Maat offered me life and I accepted.'
AN2: Ohhh... mini cliff hanger... And yes, this is the beginning basis of the plot... "What,
there's a plot?" I know, I know... I was shocked too...
the comprehensive Egyptian Mythology site!), Catt, LglyNtBlnd, *your name here*.... I thrive
off of reviews and do accept constructive criticism fairly well. Okay, I don't burn down
buildings and that's a plus, right? LOL Neway, please review, or at least enjoy the newest
chapter.
And if these author notes weren't real coherent blame it on the raging fever I have. And no,
I'm not one of those happy sick people, or pretty ones either. ;)
Standard disclaimers apply because I'm too sick to think of anything else. =)
**************************** Akayla Bay: Chapter Six *******************************
Kayla's brows gathered like storm clouds at the bridge of her aristocratic nose, eyes darkening
with frustration and some small amount of further anger as she attempted to read what she
assumed to be her dead father's diary, or journal.
"Its in English," she spat finally as tanned, roughened fingers delicately turned yet another
page. Her gaze grew dangerous as she indignantly glared up at the Englishman who stood, almost
hovering, behind and over her, like some pale, blonde haired shadow. The metaphor annoyed her,
more than it probably should.
"Let me read it..." Alex O'Connell made as if to reach for the leather bound book. Akayla
snarled and stepped out of his grasp, book clutched stubbornly to her breast as she continued
to glare, dividing her attention equally between the intrusive Englishman and Geitran who had
managed to slip into the tent almost unnoticed.
Not unnoticed.
Akayla's senses didn't allow that kind of danger. She knew what was happening around her at
all times. Always had. Necessity made her a light sleeper.
"Akayla," the elder Medjai chided as he stepped forward to stand next to an exasperated Alex in
an unconscious show of male solidarity. Kayla snorted.
"This book may contain some of my father's most personal thoughts, feelings, memories, I will
not have them desecrated by him!" The him she referred to was obvious. Alex's patience
snapped.
"Yes, it might. Have you even considered why it was written in English Akayla Bay? Perhaps so
that you could not read them. Ardeth and I have written of many things over the years. I knew
him just as well, just as intimately, as you. Why am I so unworthy? Perhaps the reason I was
called was because I was meant to be the one to read his last words..."
Akayla's full mouth shut and firmed into a thin line of suppressed rage. She started to snap a
response and stopped as the weakness of her argument resounded stupidly in her own head...
'Because you aren't one of us. Because you haven't lived at the edge of civilization all your
life. Because you have always had enough to eat. Because you still burn under the desert's
fierce sun. Because your cheeks are unmarked, unstained, by the tattoos that bind me to duty
and honor and loyalty. Because you are different!'
Alex O'Connell was unworthy in Akayla's eyes because he wasn't her. It was a damned awful
reason but then, Kayla had never done well at explaining herself, her thoughts, her motives.
Few demanded that of her. She simply was. She simply existed.
She dealt with consequences, not questions. Not with Englishmen who would not leave her alone!
Ardeth's death made her ache, made some part within her she thought long dead hurt, and that in
turn made her feel vulnerable. Akayla Bay was used to crushing vulnerability, not living it.
It made her guarded, more so than normal. Made her want to lash out and this pale, assured man
from lands far, far away, this Outsider, was a too convenient target. Especially when his words
held truths that proud, proud Akayla had no desire to hear.
She knew she was acting childishly, dishonorable, and, frankly, hardly cared.
The book sailed through the air and thumped Alex O'Connell squarely in a well muscled chest.
The Englishman raised his brows in askance and she simply glared in mute response. The book was
the only concession he was getting out of her and, after a long moment, he was smart enough to
realize that.
Without another word Alex set the book on the table, opened it, and started to read.
**********************************************************************************************
He hadn't been at all sure that the fiery Akayla Bay would react favorably when he had
suggested that it be him to read the book. Doubtless there were Medjai who had the ability to
read English and he had half feared that she would respond to the journal by bringing some
stranger in to decipher Ardeth's last thoughts, if she didn't put a dagger through his throat
first.
There were depths and patience not noticeable at first in Ardeth Bay's only daughter.
The book smacked him, hard, in the chest, as she threw it in pure ill temper.
Though he was rapidly expending what good will was left in the fiery Medjai woman.
The first pages he read revealed that this was indeed a journal, a man's diary, that begun the
day of Ardeth's wedding, directly after Ahm Shere.
'I married today... A woman that was chosen for me years ago from a distant tribe. I was
struck at first sight though. She's beautiful, no more so than many of our people, but there's
a delicate, frail air about her that is unusual. That makes me feel protective towards her,
more so then I would normally be.
'We seem well suited. I hope our tentative friendship grows to something deeper in time. Fate
guides us all, perhaps I will be shepherded down the road of love, perhaps not. But I want to
love my new wife.'
Alex swallowed, glanced up at a silent, brooding, waiting Akayla, the ever patient Geitran,
and, after flipping forward several pages, continued to skim.
'I am a father and a widower in one breath, one heartbeat, one life defining moment today. I
have never felt so shaped by one death, or one wailing birth. I named my daughter Akayla as I
buried her mother.
'I have faced many things in my time on earth but the thought of raising, teaching, being
responsible for something so utterly helpless... It is a solemn thought, a touching
experience. I am a father today, first and foremost, even as I grieve.'
He skipped more pages this time, and fought the urge to read his almost father's life like a
book, but paused at one dog eared page, unable to help himself.
'My daughter became a murderer today. God help me, my flesh and blood took another life. She
was brave, so brave, a man would have been considered brave but a girl of eight...
'No father should live to see their child kill.
'No father should have to wash a man's blood from their only daughter's hands.
'I love her still, I always will, but sometimes I'm afraid of the person I'm creating. Much of
my life has been pain and destruction. I don't want that for Akayla but I don't know how much
of a choice she's going to give me. She always reaches for a sword instead of colorful
ribbons. I think my biggest, my only weakness, if that I can never find it in my heart to say
no. Not to her.'
Alex flipped to the end of the journal. A bookmark of sorts, a single feather, opened one of
the very last pages to a letter clearly addressed to him. He swallowed again, wet suddenly dry
lips, and read on.
'Dear Alex... If you are reading this then my worst fears have come to pass. I am dead or so
lost neither you nor Akayla can find me.
'Akayla... I'm sure she must have come as no small surprise, though shock was probably greater
on her end than yours. Its not that I consciously kept knowledge of her from you, or of you
from her. I am, was, one man but you both knew different sides of me. To you, I was the man
who stood by your side as Ahm Shere sank beneath the burning sands. To Akayla I was a father,
a leader, her anchor in a world that held little else for her.
'But that is not why I wrote this letter.
'Almost thirty years ago, when your parents and I faced Imhotep for the first time, in the
tunnels under Hamunaptra I made a pact, a bargain, that must be fulfilled. I was hemmed in,
trapped, by the monster's creatures, henchmen. Your father was torn between helping me or
going after the beast and your mother.
'I remember the panic on his face, the indecision. I remember the calm weight that many call
bravery settling in my stomach. My voice was calm, firm when I made his decision for him.
"Kill the monster, save the girl!"
'Your father took my advice. I was prepared to die in that moment Alex, to die in the arms of
rotting corpses' arms, sword flashing as I cut through bandages that reeked of death thousands
of years old.
'Should have died.
'But then, ironically enough, if you believe it, there was light.
'And from the light stepped forward a relic, a remnant, from a civilization that had fallen
three thousand years ago. The Goddess Maat offered me life and I accepted.'
AN2: Ohhh... mini cliff hanger... And yes, this is the beginning basis of the plot... "What,
there's a plot?" I know, I know... I was shocked too...