Chapter Six – A Cry in the Night
Khay removed her spectacles, and rubbed her tired eyes. It was well after midnight but her turbulent thoughts had kept her from sleep so she'd decided to work on the tablets. She only wore her glasses when reading very fine writing and the stone tablets of the Med-jai that she had taken home to translate were written in some of the smallest symbols she'd ever seen. Not the main body of the work, that was clear enough. Each curse and its effects were described in complete detail, leaving nothing to imagination. She was certain she'd have nightmares by the time she was done. Still, it wasn't the curses that fascinated her. It was the fine text that underscored the major work.
Listed in among the curses she'd discovered descriptions of the different injuries that mummies could inflict on humans and the treatments used by the ancient Med-jai healers. From what she had determined so far, mummy attacks had been much more frequent in ancient times. She knew from her own teachings that some of the cures were still taught but most of the ones listed here she'd never heard of. She made a mental note to ask her friend, Batool, about them when the healer returned from holiday. Khay couldn't say why, but something told her this information was important. She rubbed her eyes once more and looked at the clock. Almost two. She sighed and replaced the spectacles, her eyes focusing once more on the tiny text.
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He stood on the balcony, the stones cool on his bare feet and stared out at nothing, content to simply stand still and let his thoughts wander. They'd sat a long time talking and laughing this evening. It had been good to share the story of his past with them, his adopted family. Finally, at one o'clock they'd decided they should carry the sleeping children upstairs and turn in themselves.
Ardeth sighed, inhaling deeply of the rich night air heavy with the scent of pine and leafy trees. It was scent he always associated with England, a scent very different from the dry hot smells of the desert. It was a scent he secretly loved.
The pale moonlight played across the hard planes of his chest. He'd removed his outer garments as well as his shoes and was clad only in the loose pants he wore under his robes. His fingertips lightly traced the faint scars on his chest. It was hard to believe it had been one year ago this very night, almost this very hour, that the Creature's guards had almost taken his life. The scarred lines were familiar to him as he often traced them, wondering at his luck and Allah's mercy. Ardeth let his thoughts wander a while longer. The clock striking the three quarter hour brought him to the realization that he'd stood there longer than he'd intended. Turning, he made his way into the dark chamber and headed for the bed.
Suddenly, a bolt of agonizing pain raced through him. A pain so intense it stole his breath and buckled his knees. Ardeth reached out, trying to grab onto something that would hold him up, something solid he could cling to offset the agony in his chest. For a split second, his fingers brushed something, then he and it crashed to the floor. Another razor sharp pain, this one stronger, sliced through him and he cried out even as his mind screamed in denial. The painful
debriding of the wounds he's suffered, all the cautious cleansing and healing salves had failed! The wounds left by the mummy's cursed fingers burned bright as fire within him and Ardeth Bey was quickly becoming lost in their unearthly flames.
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"So, do you write the inscriptions over the sealed wounds? Or do you write them in the open wounds?" Khayriyyah thought about that a moment then shuddered and made a face. "Let's hope it's the first one." She was still up, fascinated and repelled by the strange facts she was finding in the Med- jai's stone tablets. She's pulled out a tiny, stiff brush from her small store of archaeological tools and had managed to free more of the sand and dust that obscured the tiny marks. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and her eyes were narrowed behind her glasses. "Ah," she cried softly after cleaning the text, "it's over the wounds. That makes it much easier, I dare say."
"You dare say what?"
Khayriyyah knew her father's habits well enough not be surprised at his voice. They were two of a kind, Nadhir Alaa' al Din and his night owl daughter.
"This text, Papa. It describes how the Med-jai . . ." Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Father and daughter stared at each other, startled. A call at this hour could only mean one thing. Something terrible was happening.
"Hello." Nadhir had picked up the phone. "Yes...... Can you explain...? ..... No, I have not but this type of thing is not well archived... Yes, but she is not here. In London, I mean... She has an apprentice of sorts but no one who is... Yes. We will come at once." He hung up the phone slowly and turned to his daughter. "Ardeth Bey is dying."
Khayriyyah gasped. "What?! How?!"
"The mummy's wounds. The one he received last year. They have inflamed and are causing him great pain. The O'Connell's fear for his life. The wounds are... they are...."
"The mummy's fingers are showing beneath." Khayriyyah whispered in horror.
Nadhir frowned. "How do you know this?"
Khayriyyah's eyes dropped to the tablets in front of her and began to talk, slowly at first then gathering speed as she became more and more agitated. "It tells here of the Curse of the Mummy's Fingers. The Curse would kill the person who had been attacked unless the wounds were cleansed."
"That was done," interrupted her father.
"But there's more! Here in the smaller text, where it gives the cures, a portion of the inscription was covered up, most likely for a century or more! I doubt anyone knew it existed. I mean Ardeth was the first person to survive this kind of wound for over a hundred years. I don't think anyone even knows about this next part." She raised excited eyes to her father who only glared at her. When she still didn't speak, he lifted a hand in an unspoken command. Khayriyyah drew in a sharp breath. "Right. Well, it says here that if the wounds are cleansed, the victim is given a year's reprieve. Then, one year to the moment of the infliction of the wounds, the Curse would return unless the proper sealing spells had been set upon the visible remains. In other words, protective signs must be placed along the scars before the year is up or the victim will suffer all over again."
The elder Alaa al' Din ran his hands through his hair. "Does it say what happens after the year is up? Can you put the spells on then?"
"I didn't get that far!" Khayriyyah wailed, realizing that Ardeth's life was literally at her fingertips.
Nadhir closed his eyes in thought for a moment, then opened them. Determination sparked in their depths. "Get dressed. Bring your healers bag. Bring the tablets and a strong torch. We leave in five minutes. "
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"It says here," Khayriyyah raised her voice over the sound of the engine, "that if a healer does not mark the wounds with the protective signs within the first year, the signs can then only be set by..." she paused as a sharp curve almost sent the tablets spiraling off the back seat and into the door. Only her quick hands saved the stones from certain disaster. When the car straightened, she readjusted herself back into a kneeling position on the floor and raised her flashlight. "...only be set by the Heart of the Soul. The Heart of the Soul? What does that mean?"
To her surprise, her father answered. "The Heart of the Soul is that one person that is the missing piece of one's soul."
"Well, then all is lost!" Khayriyyah gasped in horror. "Ardeth Bey's heart was his wife and she's dead."
Nadhir shook his head. "I do not think so."
"What do you mean? He loved his wife more than anything, we know that! How could she not be the one to complete his heart?"
"The woman a man loves might very well complete his heart, but she is not necessarily the one who will complete his soul."
Khayriyyah stared at her father. "What on earth are you talking about, Father? Wouldn't a person you love be your heart and soul?"
"My child, love is an emotion that runs deep. I do not deny that your heart will lead you in love. The Heart of one's Soul is different. It is not about emotion. It's about a bond that exceeds all else in your life. When you meet the Heart of your Soul, you will feel it, almost like a physical blow. Unfortunately, not everyone meets their soul's Heart in one lifetime. Sometimes it takes many lifetimes to find this one person who will complete you."
"But what if you're already married when this happens?"
"Our laws allow that a man may take more than one wife, and a wife more than one husband."
"I always thought that was for the..."
"...survival of the tribe?" her father finished with a laugh. "That is also a good reason. But the laws are there for a greater reason - the Heart of the Soul."
"But how do we find this person?" Khayriyyah sputtered. "I mean, it could be anyone! Where do we begin to look? How do we know that by the time we find this person it won't be too late and Ardeth Bey will be dead?"
"I do not believe that Allah has been merciful to young Bey only to end his life in this way."
Her father's words were heavy and barely discernable above the roar of the car. Something in his tone made bumps rise on her arms and she shuddered. Her father had at times had visions that had come to pass. It was a trait that all Med-jai carried but not all had the gift to use it. Nadhir had never truly expanded on his ability but still it surfaced from time to time, reminding him that despite his distance from his homeland, he was Med- jai.
Still, Khayriyyah didn't understand. "But, Father,..." she began, but her father cut her off short.
"We are here, my daughter. We will find the answer."
They pulled up before the front door with a flurry of gravel. Rick O'Connell rushed out to meet them. "Thank God you're here! You got the healer? Khayriyyah! Where's the.... Wait, don't tell me that you're the healer? Never mind. Let's go." Father and daughter exchanged glances and followed him into the house as Rick asked then answered his own questions. Evelyn O'Connell's husband had struck them both as being someone who could handle any situation with aplomb but tonight he was almost manic. Whatever was happening with Ardeth Bey had upset this man to the point of tears.
As they dashed through the foyer and up the stairs, Khayriyyah had brief glimpses of ancient artifacts and antique furnishings. Then she was at the door of a large bedchamber. On the threshold of this room, the world as she knew it ended; breath left her body in a rush.
"This can't be!" she thought as her senses swirled. "This isn't happening!" Her father had said it felt like a blow but he lied. It wasn't a blow, it was total upheaval. She felt as if her body had been caught in a cyclone and she was spinning both out of space and out of time. Khayriyyah caught her father's eye and she knew he knew. Ardeth Bey was the Heart of her Soul and she, his. She didn't need to see him to know this was the faceless man from all her dreams. She didn't need to hear his voice to know that his was the voice that had called her to her destiny since she had reached the age of maturity. She didn't need to see his pain contorted face to know that he was in agony, she felt it. Not as strong, surely, as he was feeling it but it was there nonetheless. Then Evy was turning to her with tears streaming down her face and time resumed. Khayriyyah Alaa al' Din vowed to herself at that moment that she was going to save her Heart's life.
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Ardeth grasped the bedposts as another wave of torture swept through him. He closed his eyes, not needing to look to know that the inhuman fingers of the mummy's spirit rose and fell along the wounds, making them undulate with sharp upward turns. They raked at his skin as if fighting their way out from his body and into the human world. He could no more stop the cries of pain that fell from his lips as he could the dawn from coming and he knew enough not to waste his precious strength trying. Ardeth knew that Evy was with him. He could feel her cool hands on his arms, on his face, trying vainly to comfort him as the horror was unleashed on his person.
He could also sense her fear. It emanated from her in waves and he was beyond any ability to help or console her. Rick had been there, but was gone now. Gone to call the Med-jai, Evy had said. Gone to get help. Ardeth doubted they'd find it. He had never, in all the years of his life, heard of this happening. Then again, no one in his lifetime had ever survived a mummy's initial attack. He was the first in over a hundred years. A commotion in the hallway penetrated his dulling senses. Running footsteps, voices. And then a force like a sandstorm tore through his soul and for a brief instant the world around him ceased to exist.
On one level, he thought he'd died. But from his previous experience, this wasn't how it had felt and this time he could still feel the pain in his body, he was only less aware of it. On another level, something within him reached out and made contact with the force. His Soul leaped with a joy he hadn't felt in years, if ever. In that heartbeat a bond was established and he knew that this woman felt his pain, felt his helplessness, and in return he felt her strength, her determination that he should live. Ardeth forced his eyes open, forced them to focus on the woman coming toward him. His light brown eyes met her almost black ones. Hearts stopped beating, breath stopped, and a shock of eternal recognition shot through them both so strongly that the woman stumbled and Ardeth would have had he not been lying down. An older man caught the woman and she shook him off.
Hearts resumed their work, lungs took in new air, and the two Souls silently promised to survive. The evil spirit that had been quelled by the moment of change forced itself past their bonds and reached clawed fingers upward. Two screams echoed into the night.
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"Allah be merciful!" Khayriyyah breathed when she'd composed herself. She was looking at the inflamed scars on Ardeth's chest when the skin stretched outward in a horrid parody of human fingers. The bottommost scar spewed blood as it was ripped open from inside and, although she could not see the dead, decaying flesh of the mummy with her eyes, she could see it in that shadowed place in her mind and it terrified her.
"Mrs. O'Connell, a towel!" she cried, lowering her hands to staunch the flow of crimson.
In seconds, a white towel was laid over her hands and she pulled them out as Rick pressed down hard. Another towel was placed in her hands and she wiped them hurriedly, calling out instructions to her father. In seconds, a small bottle was placed in her hands and she pulled the cork.
"Drink!" she ordered, placing the vial at Ardeth's mouth. His head rolled from side to side as if he was trying to escape the pain. "Drink!" she demanded again, this time in Arabic.
Ardeth opened his mouth and she poured the contents onto his tongue. He grimaced at the taste, then swallowed. Again she ordered him to drink and then again until the bottle was empty. Within moments, Ardeth's grip on the bedposts weakened and fell to rest limply above his head. Khayriyyah pushed his sweaty hair from his brow and gently peeled open each eyelid. Satisfied that he was deeply unconscious, she turned to the O'Connells.
"First," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "I need strong thread and a sharp needle."
Khay removed her spectacles, and rubbed her tired eyes. It was well after midnight but her turbulent thoughts had kept her from sleep so she'd decided to work on the tablets. She only wore her glasses when reading very fine writing and the stone tablets of the Med-jai that she had taken home to translate were written in some of the smallest symbols she'd ever seen. Not the main body of the work, that was clear enough. Each curse and its effects were described in complete detail, leaving nothing to imagination. She was certain she'd have nightmares by the time she was done. Still, it wasn't the curses that fascinated her. It was the fine text that underscored the major work.
Listed in among the curses she'd discovered descriptions of the different injuries that mummies could inflict on humans and the treatments used by the ancient Med-jai healers. From what she had determined so far, mummy attacks had been much more frequent in ancient times. She knew from her own teachings that some of the cures were still taught but most of the ones listed here she'd never heard of. She made a mental note to ask her friend, Batool, about them when the healer returned from holiday. Khay couldn't say why, but something told her this information was important. She rubbed her eyes once more and looked at the clock. Almost two. She sighed and replaced the spectacles, her eyes focusing once more on the tiny text.
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He stood on the balcony, the stones cool on his bare feet and stared out at nothing, content to simply stand still and let his thoughts wander. They'd sat a long time talking and laughing this evening. It had been good to share the story of his past with them, his adopted family. Finally, at one o'clock they'd decided they should carry the sleeping children upstairs and turn in themselves.
Ardeth sighed, inhaling deeply of the rich night air heavy with the scent of pine and leafy trees. It was scent he always associated with England, a scent very different from the dry hot smells of the desert. It was a scent he secretly loved.
The pale moonlight played across the hard planes of his chest. He'd removed his outer garments as well as his shoes and was clad only in the loose pants he wore under his robes. His fingertips lightly traced the faint scars on his chest. It was hard to believe it had been one year ago this very night, almost this very hour, that the Creature's guards had almost taken his life. The scarred lines were familiar to him as he often traced them, wondering at his luck and Allah's mercy. Ardeth let his thoughts wander a while longer. The clock striking the three quarter hour brought him to the realization that he'd stood there longer than he'd intended. Turning, he made his way into the dark chamber and headed for the bed.
Suddenly, a bolt of agonizing pain raced through him. A pain so intense it stole his breath and buckled his knees. Ardeth reached out, trying to grab onto something that would hold him up, something solid he could cling to offset the agony in his chest. For a split second, his fingers brushed something, then he and it crashed to the floor. Another razor sharp pain, this one stronger, sliced through him and he cried out even as his mind screamed in denial. The painful
debriding of the wounds he's suffered, all the cautious cleansing and healing salves had failed! The wounds left by the mummy's cursed fingers burned bright as fire within him and Ardeth Bey was quickly becoming lost in their unearthly flames.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"So, do you write the inscriptions over the sealed wounds? Or do you write them in the open wounds?" Khayriyyah thought about that a moment then shuddered and made a face. "Let's hope it's the first one." She was still up, fascinated and repelled by the strange facts she was finding in the Med- jai's stone tablets. She's pulled out a tiny, stiff brush from her small store of archaeological tools and had managed to free more of the sand and dust that obscured the tiny marks. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and her eyes were narrowed behind her glasses. "Ah," she cried softly after cleaning the text, "it's over the wounds. That makes it much easier, I dare say."
"You dare say what?"
Khayriyyah knew her father's habits well enough not be surprised at his voice. They were two of a kind, Nadhir Alaa' al Din and his night owl daughter.
"This text, Papa. It describes how the Med-jai . . ." Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Father and daughter stared at each other, startled. A call at this hour could only mean one thing. Something terrible was happening.
"Hello." Nadhir had picked up the phone. "Yes...... Can you explain...? ..... No, I have not but this type of thing is not well archived... Yes, but she is not here. In London, I mean... She has an apprentice of sorts but no one who is... Yes. We will come at once." He hung up the phone slowly and turned to his daughter. "Ardeth Bey is dying."
Khayriyyah gasped. "What?! How?!"
"The mummy's wounds. The one he received last year. They have inflamed and are causing him great pain. The O'Connell's fear for his life. The wounds are... they are...."
"The mummy's fingers are showing beneath." Khayriyyah whispered in horror.
Nadhir frowned. "How do you know this?"
Khayriyyah's eyes dropped to the tablets in front of her and began to talk, slowly at first then gathering speed as she became more and more agitated. "It tells here of the Curse of the Mummy's Fingers. The Curse would kill the person who had been attacked unless the wounds were cleansed."
"That was done," interrupted her father.
"But there's more! Here in the smaller text, where it gives the cures, a portion of the inscription was covered up, most likely for a century or more! I doubt anyone knew it existed. I mean Ardeth was the first person to survive this kind of wound for over a hundred years. I don't think anyone even knows about this next part." She raised excited eyes to her father who only glared at her. When she still didn't speak, he lifted a hand in an unspoken command. Khayriyyah drew in a sharp breath. "Right. Well, it says here that if the wounds are cleansed, the victim is given a year's reprieve. Then, one year to the moment of the infliction of the wounds, the Curse would return unless the proper sealing spells had been set upon the visible remains. In other words, protective signs must be placed along the scars before the year is up or the victim will suffer all over again."
The elder Alaa al' Din ran his hands through his hair. "Does it say what happens after the year is up? Can you put the spells on then?"
"I didn't get that far!" Khayriyyah wailed, realizing that Ardeth's life was literally at her fingertips.
Nadhir closed his eyes in thought for a moment, then opened them. Determination sparked in their depths. "Get dressed. Bring your healers bag. Bring the tablets and a strong torch. We leave in five minutes. "
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"It says here," Khayriyyah raised her voice over the sound of the engine, "that if a healer does not mark the wounds with the protective signs within the first year, the signs can then only be set by..." she paused as a sharp curve almost sent the tablets spiraling off the back seat and into the door. Only her quick hands saved the stones from certain disaster. When the car straightened, she readjusted herself back into a kneeling position on the floor and raised her flashlight. "...only be set by the Heart of the Soul. The Heart of the Soul? What does that mean?"
To her surprise, her father answered. "The Heart of the Soul is that one person that is the missing piece of one's soul."
"Well, then all is lost!" Khayriyyah gasped in horror. "Ardeth Bey's heart was his wife and she's dead."
Nadhir shook his head. "I do not think so."
"What do you mean? He loved his wife more than anything, we know that! How could she not be the one to complete his heart?"
"The woman a man loves might very well complete his heart, but she is not necessarily the one who will complete his soul."
Khayriyyah stared at her father. "What on earth are you talking about, Father? Wouldn't a person you love be your heart and soul?"
"My child, love is an emotion that runs deep. I do not deny that your heart will lead you in love. The Heart of one's Soul is different. It is not about emotion. It's about a bond that exceeds all else in your life. When you meet the Heart of your Soul, you will feel it, almost like a physical blow. Unfortunately, not everyone meets their soul's Heart in one lifetime. Sometimes it takes many lifetimes to find this one person who will complete you."
"But what if you're already married when this happens?"
"Our laws allow that a man may take more than one wife, and a wife more than one husband."
"I always thought that was for the..."
"...survival of the tribe?" her father finished with a laugh. "That is also a good reason. But the laws are there for a greater reason - the Heart of the Soul."
"But how do we find this person?" Khayriyyah sputtered. "I mean, it could be anyone! Where do we begin to look? How do we know that by the time we find this person it won't be too late and Ardeth Bey will be dead?"
"I do not believe that Allah has been merciful to young Bey only to end his life in this way."
Her father's words were heavy and barely discernable above the roar of the car. Something in his tone made bumps rise on her arms and she shuddered. Her father had at times had visions that had come to pass. It was a trait that all Med-jai carried but not all had the gift to use it. Nadhir had never truly expanded on his ability but still it surfaced from time to time, reminding him that despite his distance from his homeland, he was Med- jai.
Still, Khayriyyah didn't understand. "But, Father,..." she began, but her father cut her off short.
"We are here, my daughter. We will find the answer."
They pulled up before the front door with a flurry of gravel. Rick O'Connell rushed out to meet them. "Thank God you're here! You got the healer? Khayriyyah! Where's the.... Wait, don't tell me that you're the healer? Never mind. Let's go." Father and daughter exchanged glances and followed him into the house as Rick asked then answered his own questions. Evelyn O'Connell's husband had struck them both as being someone who could handle any situation with aplomb but tonight he was almost manic. Whatever was happening with Ardeth Bey had upset this man to the point of tears.
As they dashed through the foyer and up the stairs, Khayriyyah had brief glimpses of ancient artifacts and antique furnishings. Then she was at the door of a large bedchamber. On the threshold of this room, the world as she knew it ended; breath left her body in a rush.
"This can't be!" she thought as her senses swirled. "This isn't happening!" Her father had said it felt like a blow but he lied. It wasn't a blow, it was total upheaval. She felt as if her body had been caught in a cyclone and she was spinning both out of space and out of time. Khayriyyah caught her father's eye and she knew he knew. Ardeth Bey was the Heart of her Soul and she, his. She didn't need to see him to know this was the faceless man from all her dreams. She didn't need to hear his voice to know that his was the voice that had called her to her destiny since she had reached the age of maturity. She didn't need to see his pain contorted face to know that he was in agony, she felt it. Not as strong, surely, as he was feeling it but it was there nonetheless. Then Evy was turning to her with tears streaming down her face and time resumed. Khayriyyah Alaa al' Din vowed to herself at that moment that she was going to save her Heart's life.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ardeth grasped the bedposts as another wave of torture swept through him. He closed his eyes, not needing to look to know that the inhuman fingers of the mummy's spirit rose and fell along the wounds, making them undulate with sharp upward turns. They raked at his skin as if fighting their way out from his body and into the human world. He could no more stop the cries of pain that fell from his lips as he could the dawn from coming and he knew enough not to waste his precious strength trying. Ardeth knew that Evy was with him. He could feel her cool hands on his arms, on his face, trying vainly to comfort him as the horror was unleashed on his person.
He could also sense her fear. It emanated from her in waves and he was beyond any ability to help or console her. Rick had been there, but was gone now. Gone to call the Med-jai, Evy had said. Gone to get help. Ardeth doubted they'd find it. He had never, in all the years of his life, heard of this happening. Then again, no one in his lifetime had ever survived a mummy's initial attack. He was the first in over a hundred years. A commotion in the hallway penetrated his dulling senses. Running footsteps, voices. And then a force like a sandstorm tore through his soul and for a brief instant the world around him ceased to exist.
On one level, he thought he'd died. But from his previous experience, this wasn't how it had felt and this time he could still feel the pain in his body, he was only less aware of it. On another level, something within him reached out and made contact with the force. His Soul leaped with a joy he hadn't felt in years, if ever. In that heartbeat a bond was established and he knew that this woman felt his pain, felt his helplessness, and in return he felt her strength, her determination that he should live. Ardeth forced his eyes open, forced them to focus on the woman coming toward him. His light brown eyes met her almost black ones. Hearts stopped beating, breath stopped, and a shock of eternal recognition shot through them both so strongly that the woman stumbled and Ardeth would have had he not been lying down. An older man caught the woman and she shook him off.
Hearts resumed their work, lungs took in new air, and the two Souls silently promised to survive. The evil spirit that had been quelled by the moment of change forced itself past their bonds and reached clawed fingers upward. Two screams echoed into the night.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Allah be merciful!" Khayriyyah breathed when she'd composed herself. She was looking at the inflamed scars on Ardeth's chest when the skin stretched outward in a horrid parody of human fingers. The bottommost scar spewed blood as it was ripped open from inside and, although she could not see the dead, decaying flesh of the mummy with her eyes, she could see it in that shadowed place in her mind and it terrified her.
"Mrs. O'Connell, a towel!" she cried, lowering her hands to staunch the flow of crimson.
In seconds, a white towel was laid over her hands and she pulled them out as Rick pressed down hard. Another towel was placed in her hands and she wiped them hurriedly, calling out instructions to her father. In seconds, a small bottle was placed in her hands and she pulled the cork.
"Drink!" she ordered, placing the vial at Ardeth's mouth. His head rolled from side to side as if he was trying to escape the pain. "Drink!" she demanded again, this time in Arabic.
Ardeth opened his mouth and she poured the contents onto his tongue. He grimaced at the taste, then swallowed. Again she ordered him to drink and then again until the bottle was empty. Within moments, Ardeth's grip on the bedposts weakened and fell to rest limply above his head. Khayriyyah pushed his sweaty hair from his brow and gently peeled open each eyelid. Satisfied that he was deeply unconscious, she turned to the O'Connells.
"First," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "I need strong thread and a sharp needle."