Evil from the Past
Author's Note:
I do realise this is very late. You must forgive me. First I was hit by a barrage of tests. Then by several project projectiles. (A lame pun, it turns out.) Lastly, in the space of a week I was stricken by several diseases of impossible variety, simultaneously. It has been a evil week.
I shall try to hurry, so as not to upset what I might tentatively call my fan club. This chapter would never have been written, if not for the constant pressure of Manveri meleth-nin every time I visit her desk, and of course, the encouragement of my wonderful parents, who are my foremost critics in this fanfic. How many parents read and discuss their children's fanfics, anyway? They are truly marvellous.
Apart from the slight upset of some rather scathing, callous, and grammatically atrocious flames I received, I am pleased with my 40 reviews. Besides my old reviewers, I must thank A Fan, whoever you may be, and trivial queen. To the latter, I'm very sorry, but frankly my Quenya isn't so great. I only understand the last word, which doesn't really help. Well.
The Return to Egypt
Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century
Imhotep dangled the chain from his fingers, so that the object hung on it swung slowly before his eyes. An ankh. The ancient symbol of life, of power, of magic. Cast in gold here, with hieroglyphics inscribed on its stem. This was no ordinary ankh.
"You do know you came from the future, don't you?" Count Dracula was pacing the marble floor before Imhotep's seat. He paused for a moment and glanced at Imhotep, who nodded. "It was the Year of the Scorpion when O'Connell killed me," said the Egyptian. "A century before this day. You used this ankh, this Ankh of Time, to bring me back?"
"Oh no, not I. A contact, rather. An Egyptian contact." Dracula sat down opposite Imhotep. "He couldn't find me a mummy – not one from this time, no. But he had a little miracle object, he said. An amulet of sorts, that could bring back objects from things from the past and future. He'd made a fortune in tomb robbing with it." Dracula looked into his accomplice's black eyes. "At my request, he used it to bring back you. I was so interested I – hem, convinced – him to give it to me."
Imhotep fingered the Ankh of Time. "That is not all the Ankh can do. It does not surprise me he could not use it fully – few are the Ankhs like these, and few also are the ones who can use them. And among these are the High Priests of the Pharaohs."
Dracula laughed. "And you are – were a High Priest, I believe."
Imhotep nodded. "With it, I can go anywhere in Egypt I want – and anytime. I can bring back artifacts – and bodies." He paused to give the next sentence full effect. "I can bring Her back."
It did not have the desired effect on the count. Dracula yawned slightly and examined his pale fingers. "Whatever for? If I remember, she betrayed you."
Imhotep was quite offended. "It was Meela who betrayed me, not Anck-su-namun. Meela, her reincarnation. Anck-su-namun would never have forsaken me at the abyss of Ahm Shere."
Dracula shrugged. "Whatever you wish. Bring back your darling's corpse, by all means. You can try reviving her with the machine once our prisoners have finished with it. You don't want the Time Shuttle, do you? I need the centaur here."
Imhotep shook his head. "That is what the Ankh is for." He stood up, and walked to the centre of the room. "Goodbye, my friend." Clenching his fist around the Ankh, he muttered a few Words of Power. A golden aura emanated from the Ankh. It brightened slowly, filling the council room. Dracula watched, fascinated. The light went brilliantly glaring, then suddenly vanished – and Imhotep with it.
Dracula settled back into his chair. Personally, he couldn't see why Imhotep would go to such trouble for a woman. He himself had three brides, but he did not love them – not at all. They were entertaining, and useful, but not for loving. He could not love. His heart had turned to stone four hundred years ago.
Hamunaptra, Egypt, 20th century
Burning sand beneath his feet, burning sun beating upon his head. Dusty desert air filled his nostrils. He was home.
He opened his eyes, and unclenched his hands. The Ankh lay there, glimmering softly. Around him the desert glittered in the inexorable heat. Blocks of fallen stone lay here and there; there were still some pillars left standing. The Ankh had brought him where he wanted: Hamunaptra.
He did not want the body of Meela – it was she who had betrayed him – so he had not gone to Ahm Shere. Rather, he was searching where Anck-su-namun had first been buried.
He cast around, and finally saw it: the entrance to a passage that led underground. He entered it, and walked down the stone steps briskly. He knew she was down there.
Cliffs of Kamyndos, Egypt, 20th century
Again she was in the dark corridor. She cast her torch about her, highlighting hieroglyphics carved into the ancient stone walls with its flame. She began walking. She turned a corner, and into another passage. She heard a high-pitched shrilling behind her, and began to run.
There was movement over her head. Bats. Muffling a scream, she ducked as they charged her. They missed her, but one of them rammed into her torch handle. The torch went skidding into a wall and its flame went out, leaving her lost in the darkness of the tomb.
She ran, but now there was a great fear in her step. She could hear slow muffled wingbeats behind her, ominously, and things flittered in the shadows that she could barely catch glimpses of. She slammed into a wall in the dark, and panicking, flung her arms about. The passage swung to the left, and she followed it, dark curls flying, hands groping and brushing along the tomb walls. She turned another corner, and skidded to a stop.
There was an unearthly light before her. In the midst of this eerie glow, there was a man silhouetted with his back to her. He was carrying something in his arms; a body, most likely, and a woman's, judging from the fall of straight black hair over one of his muscled arms. He also clutched a sack, which jangled and clanked as he turned to face her. He raised his face, and the bluish glow surrounded him. She caught her breath in recognition – and screamed.
Evelyn O'Connell awoke, her curls drenched in sweat, her fists clenched so hard her fingernails were drawing tracks in her palms, and screaming.
"Oh, Evy." Rick rolled over to face her. "What the hell is it now?"
Her breathing calmed; she unclenched her hands, breathing in the dusty Egyptian night air, eyes scanning her surroundings of the cliffs of Kamyndos. "The nightmare. Imhotep is back, Rick. I saw it."
Her husband laughed. "Imhotep back? It's just a dream, Evy."
Evelyn shook her head. "Remember the last time I had dreams like this? And they turned out to be more than just nightmares?"
Rick scrambled up, twisting his sleeping bag. "But he's dead now. We've killed him twice already. Seriously, how many times can a guy die?" He patted her on the shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Evy. The dig's tomorrow; you'll want to be feeling refreshed in the morning. You've been looking forward to exploring Kamyndos the whole month, haven't you?"
Evelyn lay back, wriggling into a comfortable position in her sleeping bag. "I suppose you're right." And he must be, she thought. We killed Imhotep. We sent him back to Hell. But the germ of the nightmare stuck in her mind, and refused to be dislodged.
Hamunaptra, Egypt, 20th century
The blazing sun rose above the rugged cliffs as Imhotep staggered out of the catacomb of Hamunaptra, laden down by the weight of Anck-su-namun. He fought on through the searing heat and the sand, heading for the shelter of the cliffs. Little did he know he was being watched.
Upon a high dune, a group of men on horseback followed his progress from afar. Among them, it was clear who held leadership; the tall man whose horse stood ahead of the rest, in hood and cloak, though neither disguised his proud stature. Dual scimitars hung in their elaborately inscribed sheaths at his waist. Beneath the hood, his face was marked with blue tattooes – tattooes that indicated the rank of Medjai Lord.
Ardeth Bay's dark, hawk-like eyes focused on Imhotep's path to the cliff. "So. He has returned."
"Are you sure, my lord?" ventured one of the other Medjai.
Ardeth's eyes narrowed. "I fought him twice. His face of evil is engraved upon my mind. Yes, I am sure." He cast a last glance at his old enemy, then tugged at the reins of his horse, turning away and riding down the sand dune. The others followed his example. In a matter of moments, not a trace was left of the Medjai's presence but the soft hoofprints of their horses in the scorched sand. The four men had vanished into the desert like a sirocco suddenly calmed.
Cliffs of Kamyndos, Egypt, 20th century
Imhotep was resting from the hot work in the scorching heat outside when he froze. He knew these cliffs – and the secret rock tunnels running through them – well enough to know that there were no inhabitants in these caves whatsoever. Yet he could hear voices coming from around the bend in the passage ahead of him. It must be archaeologists. Only those prying white men with their insatiable curiosity about a past which was not theirs would want to stay in these dark, narrow tunnels.
He checked that the corpse of Anck-su-namun was safe against the passage wall and then stealthily advanced to the corner. His walk was noiseless; only the faint metallic sound of his scimitar being drawn could be heard.
The archaeologists obviously did not hear him. Imhotep waited, blade at the ready, by the corner. He could hear snatches of their conversation. As he listened, a slow – and sinister – smile creased his lips. These were no ordinary archaeologists. All the better.
On the other side of the wall, one of the afore-mentioned archaeologists was attempting to navigate his way in the dark passage – by waving his torch about in hope of alighting upon the next opening.
"Stop it," snapped Evelyn as she barely ducked Rick's flaming torch, singeing her dark hair slightly. "It'll be my face next."
"Sorry," came the sarcastic reply. "Since you seem to know so much about these torches, why don't you give it a try?"
Evelyn opened her mouth to remark pithily to her husband, when she was interrupted by a chirpy voice from somewhere below her neckline.
"Mom? C'n I give it a try?"
Evelyn brushed her eight-year-old son off her skirt. "Alex, you know better than to play with fire. I'm the Egyptology expert here." Snatching the torch from Rick, she carefully worked down the wall, illuminating each rocky fragment. "Just a few more turns in the tunnel, say the good natives in the village back there, and we'll be out in the sun again. With a lovely view of Hamunaptra, as it happens."
Rick's brisk footsteps came to a shocked halt. "Hamunaptra? Please. Don't let it be the City of the Dead."
"Well, how many Hamunaptras in Egypt did you expect there to be? I'm surprised you never realised where these tunnels open out into. Oh yes, you were never very good at map-reading."
"I'm not going to Hamunaptra," said Rick stoicly. "I've been there once, and trust me, I don't think the place has gotten any better since we last escaped from it. Evy, I have a bad feeling about this."
"I never asked you to go in there. We're only digging at the base of the cliffs. A fact which you should also have remembered, but then you never read any of my notes before the excavations, did you?"
"Quit bickering, guys," shouted Alex from somewhere ahead of them. "I think I've found the opening in the wall."
Evelyn stuck her torch into the hole. Alex was right. "Well. Good job."
"Atta boy, Alex," said Rick, fondly ruffling his son's hair. Alex grinned and dodged his father, climbing nimbly into the hole like a monkey. Evelyn tutted, gathering up her skirts and stepping in after Alex. "Alex! I always said, let the person with the torch go – " She froze as the flickering torchlight illuminating the scene before her. Rick, who was halfway through the hole, froze too. "– first." The word was uttered in a trembling tone, and plummeted dismally in the following silence.
"O'Connell." Imhotep's tone was coldly triumphant. Not surprising, since he was dangling Alex by the scruff of his neck before the polished scimitar blade. Alex kicked and struggled, but Imhotep was much too strong. Imhotep met the eyes of the aghast two. "We meet again."
"Goddamn it," swore Rick under his breath. "Not him again." Out loud he said: "How many times do we have to kill you, you scoundrel?"
"Never enough," replied their old enemy.
Evelyn's heart was hammering in her ribcage like a piston on an overheated train. It had been true, her dream, after all. If only she had tried harder to convince them... Her throat became tight and dry.
Imhotep was delighted. Not only had he retrieved Anck-su-namun's body, but Fortune was now offering vengeance upon his old enemies, at whose hands he had suffered such humiliation and agony. Now, if he could only reach that Ankh...
Evelyn saw his moment of hesitation and pounced.
Things proceeded to accelerate. Evelyn got a cut across her hand, but managed to deflect the scimitar and grab Alex. Imhotep groped around and tore the Ankh of Time from where it hung about his neck. He reached behind him and found Anck-su-namun's dead hand, which he clasped. At the same time, his other hand sneaked out and latched onto Alex's shoulder. Evelyn screamed and pulled at Alex.
And then they all disappeared.
Rick stared at the empty space before him, dumbfounded. They had vanished into thin air, leaving nothing behind but the slight marks in the dust of the ground.
"I see I came too late."
Rick spun around and nailed Ardeth Bay to the wall. "What did you guys do this time?" he yelled. "What – is – the – problem – with – that – mummy! He took Evelyn and Alex! Again! If you Medjai claim to be the ones taking care of him, you're doing a bang-up job, I tell you."
Ardeth seemed to be amazingly unperturbed, for one whose old friend had just rammed him against the wall. After all, it was the sort of thing Rick did to relieve stress.
"Us inept Medjai have been following Imhotep since he left Hamunaptra, presumably to dig up the body of Anck-su-namun. And we also discovered that he has been using an Ankh of Time – my friend, if you put me down I should breathe easier."
Rick released Ardeth. "Ankh of Time? Explain."
Ardeth rearranged his cloak and proceeded with his narrative. "An Ankh of Time is a rare amulet that allows one to travel amidst the years of Egypt. Apparently, our mummy travelled here from another land – in your Europe, I believe – and now he has returned there."
Rick groaned. "And how do we rescue Alex and Evy? You don't have another of those time-thingies, do you?"
"Actually," said Ardeth Bay, reaching into his robes and drawing out a golden ankh on a thin chain, "I do."
Rick stared at the Ankh of Time Ardeth Bay was dangling in front of him. "That was a rhetorical question, actually."
"I realised." The Medjai Lord took Rick's hand and placed it on top of the Ankh. "Are you ready, my friend?"
"Just get on with it, will you?"
Ardeth sighed. He shut his eyes and enunciated the same Words of Power that Imhotep had used.
And the world dissolved into a myriad of golden sparks, very dizzingly, and became a glittering whirlpool, which sucked them in. Everything burst into a display of golden fireworks, which collapsed into golden mist.
Rick coughed and brushed the mist away with his free hand. It touched something cold and hard – stone. As the mist cleared, they realised they were in some ancient medieval castle. Outside a huge window paned with a million glass panels, snowballs hurled themselves in continuous suicide attempts against the glass, splattering into white spray.
Rick towed Ardeth down the colossal hallway, with a ceiling so high it ached just to look at it. Their footsteps echoed off the stone flags, and Ardeth made Rick slow down and walk more cautiously. Even so, faint slapping noises came from their feet and ricocheted off the walls.
At the corner, they halted. There were voices coming from around the corner – many voices, at least five different ones. They were discussing something in a very agitated manner. Rick fingered the revolver in his pocket. He always carried one with him. You never knew, not with all the saving-the-world business.
He decided to take a calculated risk, and poked his head around the corner to see their opponents. And froze. Very wise of him, as it turned out that the point of a glinting metal blade was quivering about an inch in front of his nose.
"What the hell," muttered Rick.
"Well," said the owner of the sword softly. "What have we here? Caught you off your guard, didn't we?"
Rick found himself gazing into the eyes of his attacker. And he didn't like what he saw there.
End of ChapterNext chapter coming ... Dinner with Dracula
In which Artemis finds out just how naïve some people can be, the Brides become especially threatening and our three geniuses receive a nasty surprise.