Chapter Eight: Steel in the Moonlight

The sun shone warm and clear on Evie's face as she disembarked from the barge that had delivered her and her companions to the little town near the Nile. From here, they would hire camels, pack mules, and horses, and then they would travel through the desert, for a few days, perhaps, before reaching the temple complex of Dendera.

Such a marvelous day, she thought with a smile. She could not have asked for anything better: a pleasant journey up the Nile, and now, perfect weather with not a cloud in sight. What was more, she knew that Ardeth and a few of his fellow Medjai would meet up with them in the desert, before escorting them to Dendera. After all, the Medjai, as the true curators of Egypt's antiquities, had every right to be at the dig and oversee its progress.

She turned around, and watched as the others got off the barge. First came Rick and Alex, her husband carrying the duffel bag that contained his impressive array of weapons and armaments, and her son toting the bags and pouches that contained the archeologist's "tools of the trade:" brushes, chisels, and hammers of all shapes and sizes.

The second to emerge from the barge was Jonathan, who appeared to have taken the trip up the Nile in a more pleasant manner than was expected. Evie smirked, knowing it was because this time around, Jon had Alex and Catherine to keep him occupied, and thus well away from the gambling table.

The last two to emerge from the barge were Andrew and Catherine. Her best friend walked ahead of the Scotsman, and both of them were dressed in tan and khaki clothes that were rather similar to Rick's own clothing. The clothes were clean, but they were well worn, indicating that they had been through several washings already. Around her waist, Catherine wore a dark brown leather holster that contained a revolver just like Rick's; only the handgrip was decorated with a design that Evie could not see at her distance. The only other weapon that she carried on her person was a dagger in its sheath that she had tucked into her belt.

Andrew, on the other hand, was also carrying duffel bags, though these seemed to be bulging with bigger and heavier things than the bags that Catherine was carrying. Sticking out of the tops of one of the bags, Evie noticed two long, straight sheathes that could not mean anything other than a pair of straight swords.

That puzzled her. She had heard from Rick about how he had caught the two of them sparring in the yard one morning, but he hadn't mentioned anything about them using swords.

She waited until Catherine was standing next to her, and Evie was relieved to see that the other woman seemed well and happy. Just the night before last Andrew had escorted a rather dazed Catherine to her cabin, and when Evie had come over to check on her best friend, Catherine had been reluctant to see even her.

Evie waited until Catherine looked at her, before offering her a comforting smile. "Are you alright now, Cathy?"

Catherine blinked at her for a moment, as if not understanding what she had said, but after a while it seemed Evie's words had registered, and she smiled, and nodded. "Yes, I am quite fine now. Much better than the day before yesterday, at any rate."

"If you don't mind me sticking my nose into your business, what was wrong with you?"

Catherine frowned almost immediately, and shook her head. "Well... It's rather difficult to explain, really. I cannot seem to find the words that will make it sound sensible." She laughed softly in a self-deprecating manner. "You might think me mad if I told you about it."

Evie caught Catherine's hand in hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She smiled comfortingly back at her best friend. "Try me."

Catherine heaved a sigh, closed her eyes, and started telling Evie about a dream that she had - or at least, she thought it was a dream - and how she had felt about it. She told Evie of the things she had seen: Dendera at the height of its glory, and of the underground crypts and passageways that were buried deep beneath the temple.

Evie could not help but shiver. It reminded her of the time when Imhotep had been brought back to resurrect the Scorpion King, when she had remembered her past life as the Princess Nefertiri, beloved daughter of King Seti I. Was it the same thing happening to Catherine? Judging from the things that she had said, Evie wondered if she could be the reincarnation of the last High Priestess of Hathor.

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind, not wanting to bring it up with Catherine just yet. Reincarnation was a very delicate topic, and while she knew that Catherine would be open enough to such an idea - considering how easily she had accepted the story when Evie told her of her past life as Nefertiri - she didn't want to say anything until she was sure of it. I will have to bring this up with Ardeth when we meet, she promised to herself.

"So, what do you think?"

Evie snapped back to attention, and looked at Catherine. She smiled comfortingly. "I'm not really sure what to say, Cathy," she said sincerely. "I will have to talk to Ardeth about it. He might know something."

Catherine's face took on a troubled cast. "I don't mean to offend Evie, since I know he's your friend and all, but what would he know?"

"He knows a lot of things," Evie reassured. "And if can't provide the answers himself, he will be able to find someone who can. The Medjai are wise in many things, Cathy. You can trust in their wisdom, and in Ardeth's as well."

Catherine sighed. "Well, alright, if you say so." In spite of that, however, her face showed she was still very much perturbed, and Evie realized then that whatever it was that Catherine had seen, it had disturbed her on more than one level. While to Evie it seemed quite simple, and not nearly as violent as her own memories regarding that time, there was something else, something that perhaps Catherine had not mentioned or did not remember, that bothered her very much.

She mentally shrugged it off, knowing that at the moment, she was needed in the here and now. Ardeth would know the answers, she told herself. She could count on him to have the answers - if not him, then his fellow Medjai would know something.

In matters like this, only the Medjai would have the solutions.

They had camped at a small oasis in the middle of the desert, after a whole day of traveling through vast expanses of hot, arid sand and rock. It was a good thing that they had chosen camels; she doubted if horses could have carried them across the same distance, carrying the same load as the camels had.

Unless, of course, the horses had been bred and raised in this environment itself, as was the case with the horses of their Medjai escort.

Catherine stepped out of the warm confines of her tent, inhaling deeply of the cool night air. As she had expected, temperatures in the desert often swung between extreme heat and extreme cold, but here in the oasis, it was only pleasantly cool, a wonderful respite from the burning sun they had experienced that morning.

She looked around at the camp. Small fires burned here and there, casting a soft orange glow on the people who sat around them. Nearby, she saw Evie leafing through a book, her glasses perched rather precariously on her nose, and Rick was sitting next to her, loading his pistols and seeing to his vast cache of weaponry. Andrew, in the meantime, seemed to have taken to teaching Alex some basic moves in unarmed combat - just enough, she speculated, so that the boy could defend himself in case something happened. Jonathan, on the other hand, was watching the two; one hand wrapped around a wide flask that Catherine sensed contained an unknown but very strong liquor.

Off to one side, she saw the workers who had come with them - Egyptians, most of them, though in the firelight she also saw the ebony gleam of those who had come from further south of Africa. And further away, almost on the very edge of their little oasis, was the small troop of Medjai warriors who had come to escort them midway through their journey, led by Ardeth.

They were, by far, the most interesting folk she had ever encountered in Egypt. Their air of mystery and discipline was intriguing and appealing to her, since it vaguely reminded her of the martial discipline exuded by the warrior-monks in China. However, where the warrior-monks were serene and placid, the Medjai seemed more wary and alert, as if they expected something to go wrong at any given moment.

Even now they're tense, she mused as she watched them. Ardeth was standing up while his fellow warriors sat around him in a semicircle. The glow of the nearby fire etched their tattoos and their features in a marvelous contrast of light and shadow as they listened to their leader intently.

Ardeth's attitude as he spoke to them was controlled and commanding. The only movements he made came from his mouth as he spoke, and occasionally his hands, as he gestured to illustrate some important point or other. She presumed that he was giving orders to his men, because after a while, they nodded, and he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. The men stood up, and proceeded to perform whatever tasks had been assigned to them.

Ardeth, on the other hand, remained standing where he was. His face, which had seemed so hard only moments before, suddenly seemed to soften, and she saw his shoulders shift in a sigh, before he bowed his head slightly in weariness, touching his forehead as if trying to ward off an impeding headache.

She felt her heart go out to him, felt concern well up inside her. She had never seen anyone look as tired or as lonely as he did in that moment. She wondered briefly whether he had a wife, or some other similar person, who would look after him properly and keep him company.

And she wondered, in a moment as brief as the flickering of a candle flame before it goes out, if it would be a good idea to go over there and ask him how he was, to see if she could soothe him, comfort him, take care of him.

She shook her head fiercely. No, that is not how it is going to be, she told herself. She and Ardeth were from completely opposite worlds: he had permanence and stability here in Egypt, and she, as an archeologist-adventurer, would probably never call anyplace home. She was, despite her hatred of her father, an English noblewoman, born to a life of privilege and comfort. Ardeth, in spite of his obviously high position amongst his people, lived a hard life, always fighting off those who wished to steal Egypt's treasures. He was an Arab, a Muslim, a believer in Allah. She was...did she even believe in a god in the first place?

She sighed at that. There were so many things, an infinite number of differences that she could not name, that told her she could not - should not - be attracted to Ardeth Bay of the Medjai.

But everything else - her heart, most especially - screamed at her that the exact opposite was the truth.

She felt as if eyes were upon her, and when she looked up, she saw Ardeth gazing at her from across the oasis. She did not allow herself to return his gaze for long; she quickly ducked back inside her tent, and tried to compose herself. She paced through the little tent, her thoughts whizzing and whirling through her mind, and soon realized, much to her frustration, that pacing and muttering to herself would get her nowhere.

I have to do something, she thought as she looked around at the objects in her tent. Normally reading would have been enough to calm her down, but the only books she had were the notes that she had made during her five-year expedition in Mexico, and she did not want to look at those. She considered approaching Evie to borrow one of her books, but then she remembered that, in all likelihood, Evie's books would be about Egypt, and that was the last thing she wanted to think about, close as the subject was to Ardeth.

Her eyes roamed restlessly around the tent, before they finally settled on the scabbards that leaned against her duffel bag. An idea immediately clicked into her mind: maybe practicing her katas would keep her mind off of Ardeth - and off that vision she had on the boat, as well.

Without thinking twice of it, she picked up the scabbards, and toted them with her has she exited her tent. She scanned the area for a quiet, open area where she could swing her swords without cutting something up, and found it at the farthest end of the oasis, at the place where the tree line ended and the sand began. The only light source there came from the moon, but that was enough for her purpose.

She reached the spot in no time, and was glad to note that she was out of the sight of most of those at the camp - the Medjai included. Unsheathing her swords, she held one in each hand, and inhaled, calming herself. She prepared herself mentally, as Andrew had taught her to do.

In a few moments, the sounds of the world were drowned out by the steady beat of her heart. Although her senses continued to remain alert, she knew that once she had found her body's internal rhythm, she was ready to begin.

Soon, the silent air was filled with the singing of metal slicing through air, her footfalls adding a counterpoint to the soprano of her blades. All thoughts of Ardeth and visions disappeared as she became one with her weapons, one with the cosmos. She knew nothing beyond the simple realities of movement and air, of steel and moonlight.

And, for the moment, she knew peace.

He did not understand, could not comprehend, how she could appear so graceful and fluid, yet so deadly at the same time. Watching her move, he could only compare her to a cobra: deadly, yet hypnotic in its beauty.

He could hear the melody of her swords as she swung them through the air, could hear the whisper of her limbs against the night wind. He watched as she spun, kicked, thrust, and slashed at invisible enemies, as if battling creatures none but she could see.

What a fine Medjai warrior she could have made, Ardeth thought, allowing a small smile to curl on his lips at the thought. Indeed, if she could teach her fighting style to his men, they would be better able to protect the secrets that they had sworn to defend.

And yet, at the same time, he could not bear the idea of seeing her teach his men how to fight in the way she did. He would rather keep this sight to himself, so that he would not have to share her with anyone else.

She is not your wife Ardeth, he chided himself then. He could not think in such a manner. If she was his lover, yes, if she was his wife, certainly, but she was neither. She was a stranger to him, the friend of his friend's wife. What did he know of her that would make her suitable as a wife of the leader of the Medjai?

Enough, he admitted grudgingly to himself. She had spirit, courage, and willpower enough to command and be a leader of many people. She had the intelligence and cleverness necessary to survive - she was, after all, an adventurer, and had she not been clever she would have been dead a long time ago.

Moreover, he saw that she was a kind, gentle soul, in spite of the rough and hardened exterior she showed to the world. He had heard stories of her from Evelyn, how sweet and kind she was in childhood. He heard from Jonathan how her courage had often gotten him out of trouble when he was a boy. The Scotsman, Andrew, spoke of how much she loved her younger sister, Erica, who was currently studying at a boarding school in England.

"When she cares for someone, she pours her entire heart, her entire soul, into loving that person," Evelyn had told him earlier that evening. "Admittedly, it has gotten her into her own fair share of trouble, especially when we were younger, but she does not regret a single thing she has ever done for someone she loves."

It was then that he remembered something. Evelyn had told him that Catherine was having strange dreams, or visions. She supposed that they were of a past life, the same way it had been for her.

"She's scared, Ardeth," Evelyn told him, her eyes gazing apprehensively in the direction of Catherine's tent. "She doesn't like admitting it, but she is, and I'm worried for her. I was hoping that, maybe, you could help her figure out what she saw, understand what it was. I've never seen her this thrown-off before, and it troubles me."

He had encouraged Evelyn to tell him whatever it was that Catherine had told her, and she did. But the story left him puzzled and confused. He had indeed heard of the underground crypts in Dendera, but as far as he knew there was nothing to be worried about there. They had left Dendera alone because there was nothing there that was of any concern to the Medjai - at least, not in the same way that Hamunaptra and Ahm Shere were a concern. Just to be certain, he had sent a message by hawk to one of the tribes, hoping to have a certain wise woman of the Medjai named Farrah meet him at Dendera. He planned to talk to her about Catherine's dreams, and see if she knew anything of importance regarding Dendera and the crypts beneath the temple.

He realized then that he had to speak to Catherine of what Evelyn had told him. He stepped into the small clearing, revealing himself in the moonlight.

A soft gust of wind brushed past him, and before he knew it, there was cold steel lying against his throat.

He felt his blood cool slightly at the sensation, and berated himself for leaving his weapons back at the camp, but he kept all of that to himself. He looked at the gray orbs that were staring back at him from beyond the sword that lay against the thin, fragile skin of his neck. "You have no need to fear, Catherine. It is only I, Ardeth."

The eyes blinked at him, their owner obviously not comprehending his words at the moment. But a few seconds later, they cleared, and Ardeth felt a minute amount of relief as the blades were drawn away from his throat.

"Oh dear, I am so sorry Ardeth," Catherine murmured apologetically as she allowed her arms to slacken, the tips of her blades resting against the sand. "I didn't see you were there. Did I hurt you?"

Ardeth smiled, and shook his head. "You have done me no injury, Catherine." He slid his gaze to the swords at her sides. "Though I must admit, I never took you for a swordswoman."

Catherine offered a small smile. "Very few people do," she conceded, "but it does not bother me. I am more concerned about whether I will hurt someone accidentally when they sneak up on me while I am practicing."

"Then I am quite fortunate that your sense of control is good," Ardeth replied, "else my head would be rolling along the sand dunes by now."

That coaxed a laugh from her, though it was soft, and obviously not as wholehearted as it had been during her reunion with Evelyn. She shook her head, and murmured: "Now we would not want that, would we?"

"No, we would not." He paused a moment, looking at her, before he spoke again: "Evelyn told me about your vision."

Her head snapped up to look at him, and the expression on her face and the emotion in her eyes reminded him of some small, defenseless animal caught in a trap. Gone was the confident, graceful warrior-woman - now all he saw was something akin to a little girl that had just seen a very large spider.

Her voice seemed to tremble when she spoke. "What did she tell you?"

"Everything that you told her," he replied. He walked closer to her, noting the little glance that she threw over her shoulder, as if she was looking for an escape route.

After a few tense moments of silence, she sighed tiredly, her shoulders slumping forward a little in defeat. "She told me that you would somehow have the answers," she said. She looked up at him hopefully. "And…do you?"

He shook his head. "I do not." When he saw her shoulders slump further, he added: "But I have sent for someone to meet us at Dendera. Her name is Farrah, a wise woman of the Medjai. She knows all the stories, all the secrets of Egypt, and she knows how to interpret visions and dreams. If the message reaches her soon enough, we can expect to speak to her at Dendera tomorrow."

"Oh." She glanced up at him, and her eyes flickered to a different shade of gray now. "How come you do not know all the secrets of Egypt? I though that, as the leader of the Medjai, you would know everything there is to know."

He chuckled, and shook his head. "That task is too great for me to accomplish. Yes, I am the leader of my people, but as such I have duties that need to be attended. I know a lot of things, but there are some things even I am not privileged to learn. Hence it is Farrah's duty, and the duty of her children, to remember the secrets of Egypt, lest they be lost and forgotten in the sands."

Catherine nodded, and it was obvious that her interest was piqued. "Really? They pass on their knowledge orally?"

"Yes."

"Why not just keep written records? Wouldn't it be easier to simply hand down books or scrolls?"

Ardeth smiled at her. "True, it would indeed be easier to do so, but there are dangers, as well. Documents can easily be stolen, or burnt. Farrah's knowledge is too sensitive as to allow transcription onto books or scrolls."

Catherine nodded in understanding. "I see." Her eyes took on a thoughtful cast as she gazed off into the distant sands. "Some secrets are simply too dangerous to write down."

Ardeth nodded in agreement, speaking no further. He gazed at the young woman beside him, noting how the sheen of her eyes mimicked the gleam of the moonlight on the edges of her swords.

And deep inside himself, Ardeth Bay swore, in the name of Allah and on his honor as a Medjai, that he would help her find the answers to her mysterious visions, as well as protect her when Andrew or any of the others could not. He closed his eyes briefly, murmuring his vow to the wind.

"Did you say something?"

He opened his eyes, and noticed Catherine looking up at him with a curious and concerned gaze. He shook his head. "It was nothing, I was simply praying." He gestured back to the oasis. "Come. It is getting late, and the night wind grows chill. You must sleep and rest to prepare for our journey tomorrow."

Catherine sighed. "Yes, I do suppose you are right." She sheathed her swords, and carried them with her as he escorted her back to her tent.