Author's Note: Okay – one more chapter after this one and then that's it! Hope that you enjoy the penultimate installment.

Chapter Seventeen: The Eye of Horus

I. The Curse Has Come Upon Me

In the assorted campaigns that he had been involved with when in the Legion, Rick had been motivated by the promise of rewards at the end of it and the fact that he had nothing else to do. Now, his driving forces were more varied: anger, fear of what would happen if he failed and an overriding desire to protect – not just the people he had come to care for, but for all the others who would suffer if the might of the ancient gods was unleashed.

However, Rick was no longer thinking at this stage. He knew his enemy, he knew his location and all that was left was to destroy him. By any means necessary.

The mouth of the temple was a dark hole in the crumbling stone façade, but Rick's eyes, accustomed to the half-light, easily found Barton. Admittedly, his white djellaba made him difficult to miss, but then Rick realised that it was another source of light that illuminated Barton's figure. The man was stooping over something on the ground and then he stood as flames started to lick along the bottom of the entrance.

Rick didn't break his stride as he ran towards the temple. If he could reach it before the fire had climbed too high…

'Great. Here we go again,' he thought, launching himself into the air. He felt the heat of the flames, heard their crackle beneath him.

Rick landed hard. But he was prepared – he broke the fall with a shoulder roll and the momentum propelled him to his feet. He glanced back at the flames that stretched across the wall, blocking both the temple entrances.

'Neat trick. What is that, your party piece?'

He proceeded cautiously over the stony ground. There was little left of the Sphinx Temple. Gaping niches in the walls bore testimony to the previous presence of devotional statues, long since pillaged; and the ground was littered with fallen stone blocks, denuded of their granite cladding. Most of the roof had fallen in, but in places there was still cover and in these recesses the shadows were dense and dark.

'You could rent yourself out to children's parties – I hear some folks will pay good money to any second rate magician that shows up.'

'You know you really do overrate the charm of your sense of humour.'

Rick's eyes narrowed. The voice and a flash of white - picked out by the rays of the pallid dawn sun - pinpointed Barton's location. No matter how smart the guy, they always rose to the bait of the most stupid insults. That had been Rick's experience and he smiled sourly at the knowledge that Barton was no exception.

There was no point in attempting to hide himself in the shadows of the recesses as Barton had done – in the first place, his dramatic entry had made him too conspicuous for concealment now; and secondly, he needed to get to Barton sooner rather than later. He stepped out from the colonnade into the courtyard, aware that he was leaving himself exposed, with little hope of back up.

The open-air courtyard afforded a spectacular view of the Sphinx. At least, it should have been spectacular. Under the present circumstances, the looming presence inspired ominous feelings of dread.

'Magnificent, isn't it?'

'You'll have to excuse me for not being its biggest fan right now,' Rick responded drily.

'Oh come, come, Mr O'Connell!' Barton chided mockingly. The sound grated on Rick's nerves. 'The Sphinx is practically the symbol of Egypt. I am restoring the glory of bygone days to this land.'

Rick paused, cocking his head. 'Restoring the glory days?'

'Egypt has been pillaged for centuries. Her treasures stolen, her might diminished, her people cowed. I will put an end to all that. After this day-'

'Cut the crap.' Rick resumed his approach. 'You're not doing this for the sake of Egypt, her people or anything else. You know it and I know it. Let's stop the games and finish this, shall we?'

Barton observed the man moving towards him. His shirt was torn and stained with a dark, viscous substance. A similar smear was streaked across one of his cheeks and he seemed to be covered in a fine layer of dust. He was armed, but alone. Not the most fearsome adversary, especially when compared with what Barton was preparing to face. And this was what Evelyn wanted. He had chosen her, above every other woman, to be his queen. His goddess. And she had abandoned him, betrayed him, for this? Soon, however, she would beg for his mercy.

He smiled to himself at the thought. Evelyn, so proud, so regal, grovelling for his forgiveness... And then she would be grateful when he spared her life.

If he spared her life.

There were thousands of women in the world - millions; any one of them would be honoured to be at his side.

Barton looked contemptuously at his rival. Evelyn had already proved herself unworthy of his devotion - as a god, it would be beneath him to concern himself with her fate.

He stepped out into the open, prepared to meet his enemy and his destiny.

For a moment, the two men faced each other.

The blows came quick and hard. Two jabs with his left hand and then straight in with his right. There was a sickening crunch as Rick's fist connected with his nose, the bone and cartilage fracturing under the onslaught. Barton staggered back, driven across the courtyard. The blood poured from his nose and mouth and he wiped his face with his sleeve. He stared at the vivid red against the white fabric.

Rick raised an eyebrow and calmly stalked towards him. 'Y'know, I'd rethink my position if I were you. I mean, I'm just me - a regular guy - and I was able to do that to you without breaking a sweat. So what do you think a god is going to do to you?'

Barton leaned against a standing monolith, breathing hard. 'There are different types of strength, O'Connell. Don't presume to think that you know anything about me.'

'I know all I need to.' Rick's teeth were gritted, one hand curling into a fist at his side. 'The kind of guy who gets his kicks slapping girls around…'

Barton shook his head. 'I never laid a hand on Evelyn-'

'I don't care if you actually hit her or not – you're responsible.' His stance relaxed, his shoulders dropping. Somehow, the calm that descended over him now was more threatening than his overt hostility. 'But that's personal.' His voice was as hard as steel. 'That's personal; and there'll be plenty of time for that later. We've got some other business to take care of first.'

Barton straightened up, pushing himself away from the pillar. He was unsteady on his feet and his tall figure swayed slightly as he spoke. 'I suppose that this is where you tell me that I'd be better off conceding defeat and then I follow you meekly out of here?'

'What, and spoil all my fun? But it would save a lot of time.'

He laughed at this. His bared teeth were stained red with his own blood. 'Your naïveté is almost endearing. You can't stop something that's already started.' The Englishman's lips curled into a hideous bloodstained rictus. 'Once the amulet has crossed the sacred seal the cycle is begun. Your efforts, though commendable, are too late.'

Rick looked down to where Barton was pointing. There, on what remained of the alabaster flooring, the rays of the equinoctial sun were picking out lines that formed a familiar shape. The Eye of Horus.

Rick raised his eyes and felt a cold lump settle in the pit of his stomach. The amulet around Barton's neck had started to glow.

The air had become heavier. Thick and hot the way it does before a storm.

And then everything shook. A deep, low rumble in the earth. Bone-shaking, teeth-jolting shaking. Evelyn grabbed hold of Ardeth's arm and the two of them pressed themselves against one of the monoliths of the temple wall for support. The tremors wracked her, leaving her breathless and her heart thundering. Debris fell around them and Evelyn shut her eyes tightly against the stinging sand.

The tremor died away, the reverberations still tangible deep in the earth. Ardeth, his arm still around Evelyn's shoulders protectively, raised his head. A small commotion behind attracted his attention.

Once he had run out of bullets, Jonathan had followed Evelyn down the ridge and across the barren plain to the Sphinx. He had been thrown to the ground when the tremor hit and now, having struggled to his feet, was engaged in fighting off one of the last of the massive reptilian assailants. As he could no longer shoot it, he had resorted to hitting it repeatedly over the head with the butt of his rifle.

'Will – you – just … bloody die!' His words came out in a staccato roar.

The creature flailed in the sand and then lay still. Whether stunned or dead, Jonathan did not pause to discover; still clutching the rifle, he ran towards his sister and the Medjai. He was still running full tilt when he reached them, the solid outer wall of the temple providing a stopping point as he slammed into it.

'Damn, same bloody shoulder,' he muttered, rubbing it. 'Nearly had it dislocated by Mr. America himself the other day...' His complaint subsided to a low mutter.

Evelyn squirmed out of Ardeth's hold and was about to return to the temple's entrance when another tremor gripped the land. She pressed herself against the stone wall, clawing at the uneven surface to find a handhold.

From somewhere around them came another sound. A great creaking, grinding, as though something long disused was finally moving again. Evelyn looked around and then looked up.

'Oh … oh God. Its eyes…'

The two men followed her gaze.

'Allah preserve us,' Ardeth murmured.

The mighty Sphinx, Abu Khawl – Father of Terror, was awakening.

Evelyn felt paralysed. Her brain was instructing her legs to move, but the orders were lost somewhere along the line. She clung to her happy little piece of rock, desperately trying to stop her knees from buckling under her.

A few paces away, Jonathan also stared up, mesmerised. Despite all of the impossible realities he had witnessed during their recent encounter with Imhotep, Jonathan still felt entirely overwhelmed by the enormity of what was about to happen. If the God he had been brought up to believe in was real, and the ancient Egyptian gods were also real, would his God step in to save them? He wasn't certain that he wanted to see the outcome of the great cosmic game of 'My God is Bigger Than Your God'. Unless, of course, all the gods were just the same thing. He didn't want to see the outcome of that, either. He shut his eyes, as though reverting to the childhood belief that if you couldn't see something, it didn't exist. Jonathan took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Dammit. The hitherto sightless eyes of the Sphinx were still burning with an unearthly golden light.

Evelyn tore her gaze away and, with a superhuman effort, forced herself to move. Her legs still felt shaky, but she made her way back to the entrance. The fire was raging, but it seemed that their intensity had dimmed slightly. She approached cautiously, raising one hand to shield her face against the heat and peered through the flames.

'Nice necklace,' Rick commented, eyeing the gleaming prize warily. 'Where's the papyrus?'

'Surplus to my requirements at the moment. It told me all I needed to know.' His green eyes glittered in the supernatural light. 'So, Evelyn told you about that, did she? Something else I'll have to have a little conversation with her about, later...'

The second attack was as swift as the first. Rick's punch caught Barton in the stomach and the Englishman doubled over. The fruitless blow he aimed at his assailant was easily deflected.

The precious amulet still hung tantalisingly from his neck – with every passing second its luminosity increased to a deep pulsating blue and glowing orange. Rick grabbed hold of Barton's arm and wrenched it painfully, leaving the man's chest exposed. With his free hand, he reached for the amulet.

The shock ripped through him.

The force was so great that it lifted him off his feet and he barely had time to realise that he was in the air before he saw the ground rushing towards him. In those tortuous seconds he realised that his heart had stopped beating.

He hit the ground, the landing jarring him, but he felt his chest heave painfully before his heart resumed its pounding. From somewhere, he heard a voice calling his name.

Rick pushed himself up – he had been thrown almost the length of the temple and was lying near one of the entrances.

'Rick!'

He turned his head. Through the shimmering wall of fire he could make out a familiar form. Evelyn.

'Rick – get the amulet!'

'What do you think I'm trying to do?' he growled back.

'Are you all right?'

Rick remained still for a moment, waiting for the feel of any broken bones, but – miraculously – he seemed to be in one piece. But there was something missing. His holster was empty. At some point when he was in the air, it must have fallen out. He swore inwardly, but then got to his feet and shook his head sharply to clear it. 'Never felt better. The amulet…' He looked over his shoulder. Barton was the predator now – slowly walking across the courtyard towards the central seal. The glowing stones were now almost blindingly bright; the gold that held them was burning with a white heat. 'I can't even touch the damn thing, Evy.'

He moved as close to the entrance as he could. Even through the dividing flames, he could see that her face was streaked with soot and dust. Locks of hair were clinging to her neck and forehead.

'You should get out of here,' he said quietly.

She stared back at him.

'Did you hear what I said?'

'No.'

'I said-'

'Yes, I heard what you said; no, I am not leaving you.'

Rick breathed heavily, his lips pressed together. He didn't want to tell her he had failed. 'I'm out of bullets and out of options, Evy. Go. Please.'

Her eyes flickered from him to the shimmering white figure behind and then back again. 'Get him to come a bit closer.'

Jonathan followed his sister's path to the entrance and then froze when he saw her. She had the gun in her hand, raised, obviously taking careful aim.

'Evy, what the hell do you think you're doing?'

'I just need one clear shot,' she murmured, as though she hadn't really heard him but was just thinking aloud.

He walked towards her and placed a restraining hand on her wrist. 'Evy-'

Her head snapped around and Jonathan felt a stab of genuine fear. He had never seen her look like that before. A stranger stared back at him from his sister's face.

'Let go of me, Jon. I can do this – it's the only way.'

He released her and took a few steps back, looking over her head into the interior of the temple. Sunlight flooded the courtyard, clearly illuminating the two men. But through everything – the golden dawn light, the dancing flames – the Amulet of Horus shone like a beacon.

II. The Whirlwind

The two men faced each other, Rick circling around slightly, trying to keep himself clear of the entrance but slowly drawing Barton towards it.

'Is that Evelyn out there?' There was something different in Barton's voice. It was more commanding, but sounded as though it were coming from much further away.

'Yeah. She thinks you're as crazy as I do.' He could barely see the Englishman's face anymore. But the sudden stiffening of his body told Rick that his comment had hit a nerve. He continued, enjoying this form of torture far more than he should. 'Typical, huh? You bend over backwards to impress the hell out of some girl and then she walks off with another guy. But that's women for ya. Looks like being a god isn't gonna be enough, David.'

The earth tremors started again and Rick was nearly thrown to the floor. He braced himself, barely maintaining his balance. Debris fell from the sandstone walls and all the time the white-clad figure kept coming closer.

Evelyn couldn't hear the conversation, but was grateful that whatever was being said was working.

And then the shaking started again.

She steadied herself against the stone monolith at the temple mouth and waited for the tremor to subside.

It didn't.

The low rumbling from deep in the earth increased in volume, sand and stone rained down on them from the huge walls. Evelyn's arm jerked erratically as she raised it again, finally grasping the pistol with both hands. The two figures were close together - far too close for her liking and for the task she had taken upon herself. She tried to block Rick out of her mind. She tried to block out Jonathan's feverish murmured prayers. He had his arms firmly around her waist and was holding her steady, giving her what support he could. It would have to be enough. She concentrated on the unwavering white light of the burning amulet and took careful aim.

Even over the noise of the cracking around them and the deep pounding from some region deep below, the shot rang out clearly in the confines of the temple.

Barton came to an abrupt halt. 'No...' That whispered word sounded like a death rattle.

And then it was as though a lightening bolt exploded from the amulet. It shattered and all of its latent power and energy was suddenly unbound. The place where Barton had stood became a shrieking vortex of light, expanding outwards. Its radiance rivalled that of the sun and from somewhere, Rick heard Ardeth's patient voice telling the story of the great ancient battle, '...Horus flew directly into the sun to look down upon his enemies and so fierce was the stare of the Eye of Horus, that the followers of Seth became confused and slew each other....'

He started to move, to run, but was too late. He was being drawn into that fierce light, caught in a web of fine white rays that were slowly blocking everything else from his vision.

It was as though the noonday sun had grounded itself in the ruined temple. Evelyn shut her eyes against the coruscating brilliance but the image of what had just happened kept replaying itself. The pistol fell from her nerveless fingers.

'What have I done? Oh God, Jonathan, what have I done?'

He took her by the shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled.

'This is no time to get hysterical!' he yelped. The panic was rising and every instinct he had told him to take Evelyn and run. That was what he usually did. His sister's body was limp and trembling in his arms and her face - with eyes once again wide open - was turned towards the dazzling interior of the temple. He crushed her to him awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to scream his head off and then flee. But then an unaccustomed feeling, even stronger than that initial instinct, took hold. He could no more leave Rick to his fate than Evelyn could, and the realisation made him feel slightly sick.

Ardeth sheathed his sword - he needed both hands to keep himself upright as he made his way along the wall to the relative shelter of the entrance. Blood oozed from a gash across his shoulder and the fabric of his robes clung to the sticky fluid. His body ached as he moved. A new sound had joined the rumbling cacophony - a high, keening wail. The hot air moved breathlessly against his face and he paused, raising his eyes. The sky had turned a sickly grey and on the horizon - moving towards them inexorably - were ferocious clouds of sand. The arrival of Westerners, he thought grimly, had brought little else but ill fortune to the land of Egypt. Nevertheless, he lowered his head and walked into the teeth of the increasing wind until he reached Jonathan and Evelyn.

'We have to put out the fire,' she informed him as soon as he arrived.

Ardeth gazed wearily at the guttering flames. 'With what? There is no water, we are too far from the river.'

'But-but Rick's still in there!' Her voice rose. 'We have to-'

'There is nothing we can do for him.' He cut her off roughly. 'It is in the hands of Allah. We have to take cover - there is a sandstorm coming.'

It was already upon them, the hot gusts blowing the sand up around them. It was as though the desert itself was rising up in revolt against this outrage perpetrated by man. To some, Egypt is known as 'The Land of Living Sands'. That name had never seemed more appropriate. The wind whipped Evelyn's hair across her face and she tried to shield her face with her hands. The sky was a reddish-black and through the ferocity of the whirling sand, the sun was a pale orange disk in the sky. The Sphinx itself was almost obscured from vision, only its two golden eyes still visible. The sand was everywhere - with every breath they took it choked them and the stinging grains filled their eyes.

Ardeth grabbed hold of Evelyn, forcing her to the ground and then sheltering her with his arms and the heavy folds of his black cloak. Jonathan crouched next to them, tying his handkerchief over his nose and mouth and screwing his eyes up against the desert's onslaught.

III. Sleep When I'm Dead

The pain was indescribable. It invaded every part of his body until he was certain that he would simply be pulled apart by it, that his body would crumble as easily as the desert dust. Every thought was like a knife slicing through his brain. And all the time the blinding light drew him in relentlessly. It was like a great eye, stripping away everything until all that was left was the innermost core of his being. If Rick were capable of imagining anything at that moment, he would have sworn that he imagined two great wings extending from that burning disc – he could almost feel the out-swept tips brushing against his face and hear their expanse beating the air.

Even if he closed his eyes, he could still see. If his eyes actually were closed, he could no longer tell. Rick had moved beyond pain into numbness, which was preferable to the agony and yet infinitely more terrifying. Like being trapped in a nightmare where you will yourself to move but find yourself paralysed. But this was beyond any nightmare he had ever experienced. If this was what it was actually like to be dead, then it was just as well that they taught you to believe in heaven – everyone one on the planet would be seeking immortality otherwise.

Rick was no longer aware of any physical sensation – it was as though his consciousness had simply become a part of whatever it was that surrounded him. There was a steady, rhythmic beat from somewhere and a low murmuring – the sound spilling over itself, as though thousands of voices were all whispering to each other at once.

'Who is it who disturbs the rest of the gods?' This voice was definitely not a whisper. He felt it more than heard it – the words flooding through his mind.

'Don't look at me, I wasn't the one who disturbed you.' He did not speak – he could not speak – but he knew that his thought had been heard. 'Go pick on the other guy.'

'But you are the stronger.'

'Yeah, I get that a lot.' Sand and blood...shadows in the night...Ardeth...

'The sons of the desert are wise. So, mortal, do you challenge the power of Seth, Lord of the Damned?'

'No.'

The great rustling stopped. Silence.

'No?'

'No. Thanks for the offer, but no.'

The murmuring resumed and the steady drumming grew louder, slowly drowning out the other sounds. Except for that voice.

'Well, mortal, what do you want?'

It was the sound of his heart beating, he realised. Rick was no longer in numbed suspension, but he could feel himself falling and that terrible brilliance was receding. He was falling into the depths of an endless darkness, illumined only by occasional flashes of light. And in that darkness he found a guiding beacon: a pair of familiar beloved eyes, as changeable and eternal as the desert sands.

The wind had spent itself and an eerie stillness fell upon the plain. Evelyn pushed the heavy folds of Ardeth's cloak from her face and struggled to her feet. Her hair was matted with sweat and dust and her eyes were red. The sandstorm had left a layer of grit on everything – she could feel it on her teeth and under her eyelids when she blinked. Her companions also stirred, raising themselves slowly. With his bedraggled robes, Ardeth resembled a large, dusty crow. Jonathan's hair was so clogged with sand that it looked ash-grey and there was a patch of relatively clean skin where his handkerchief had been, giving his face a curiously two-tone appearance. The sky had returned to a pale, watery blue and only the lightest of breezes stirred the tendrils of Evelyn's hair. She looked up fearfully at the Sphinx, but its sightless eyes stared across the plateau of Giza as impassively as ever.

Ardeth dragged a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He saw, with a surge of pleasure and relief, the black-clad forms of his fellow tribesmen making their way towards the temple. It seemed that none of his men had fallen to the murderous rampage of the crocodiles and he offered up a brief prayer to Allah for his mercy. The motionless forms of the crocodiles were visible under the coating of sand, but as the Medjai walked across the enclosure, the bodies simply crumbled to dust.

Ardeth turned his attention back to his two companions and then looked beyond them into the temple. 'We can go in now,' he said softly.

The sand had smothered the flames and only the scorch marks on the stones bore testimony to their presence. Evelyn eased through the entryway and looked around wordlessly. The interior of the temple seemed to have borne the brunt of the storm - great banks of sand had buried some of the fallen monoliths and new fissures had appeared in the walls.

From under the blanket of sand, not too far from where Evelyn stood, something moved. A human form rose up from under the dust, its hands clawing at the soft, uneven ground. The figure shook itself like a large dog, sending up a spray of dust in the process, and then spat out a mouthful of sand. The face was so coated with dust that it resembled a funereal mask – but then the mask cracked into a broad grin and a pair of blue eyes sparkled merrily at her.

Rick O'Connell - battered, bruised, but undefeated – held out his arms to her.

Her body suddenly felt weightless. She skimmed across the sand, throwing her arms around his neck when she reached him.

'You're all dusty,' she informed him a few minutes later, running the back of her hand along his cheek.

'So are you.'

'Are all former Legionnaires this much trouble?'

He grinned. 'Uh-huh.'

Jonathan withdrew his head from the opening and rolled his eyes. 'This could take a while, old boy.'

'I take it that O'Connell is in one piece.'

'Hard to tell - he's got my bloody sister wrapped around him,' he replied, with a snort of disgust. Jonathan settled himself on the ground, his back resting against a large stone and kept his eyes carefully averted from the interior of the temple. 'You should be grateful that you weren't stuck with them all the back from Hamunaptra. Might as well have been just me and the camel for all the company they were. Honestly, Ardeth old man, I didn't know where to look half the time. I, er, don't suppose that you have a drink secreted somewhere in those robes, do you?'

Ardeth smiled and shook his head. 'Regretfully...'

'Ah no. Didn't think so, but it doesn't hurt to ask, does it?'

Ardeth seated himself opposite Jonathan and glanced through the opening. 'Should we call them?'

'No. Give them a few minutes.'

Eventually Evelyn rested her head against Rick's shoulder and mournfully surveyed the devastation around them. 'The Department of Antiquities won't be very happy,' she remarked. 'They only dug the temple out last year.'