Author's Note: Anything that appears -- like this -- is a thought/ connection/ conversation. This will carry through the rest of the story. Regular italics are for ... uh... different stuff. I hope that's clear. (Please let me know if I've missed any of them (as sometimes I do)). Thanks! Xanthia
Chapter Seven – The Heart of the Soul
"Alright, then. What now?" Evy pushed the hair off her forehead and looked expectantly at Khay who took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
"The answer is here," she said quietly as she swept the cloth cover from the tablets her father had placed on a nearby table.
They were still in Ardeth's bedroom, having just finished stitching the ugly wound on his lower chest. Thankfully, the medicine she'd given Ardeth to put him out had also seemed to effect the mummy's ghost and it had been quiet for the moment. They had no hope that it would stay that way. Khayriyyah filled Evy in on everything she'd learned that night.
"But who's this Heart of the Soul?" Evy wondered aloud as she read the passage Khay was pointing to. She looked up at the young Med-jai woman beside her and unconsciously touched her hand to her throat in surprise and shock. Khayriyyah's eyes literally glowed with an inner fire, a fire the color of the soul that Zahrah had captured in her hands on that night an eternity ago.
"My God," Evy breathed. "It's you. How long have you known?"
"Since the second I crossed that threshold," Khayriyyah said, pointing to the door. "And now I can feel him, sense him, deep within me. And I know that we are running out of time. Even now he weakens, his strength draining as he fights against the unholy thing that haunts his body. We have to figure this out, Evy," she begged, unaware that she was even using the nickname. "Will you help me?"
Evy looked at the tablets spread out before her and nodded. "Where did you leave off?"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Alex slowly opened the door to Azizah's room and peeked inside.
"Zizzy?" he called softly.
A small hiccup answered him and he opened the door wider. Azizah sat huddled against the headboard, bedcovers clenched tightly in her fisted hands. The light from the hall reflected in her eyes, wide with fright. He entered the room and shut the door, the portal muffling the painful cries of her father. The two children had heard the sounds coming from Ardeth's room but only Alex left his bed to investigate. The sight of Ardeth's chest heaving with ghostly fingers had scared him silly and he was glad when his mother asked him to check on their little guest.
Alex walked over to the bed and climbed up next to her.
"Babu." she whispered, "Something is wrong with him."
"Yes," Alex confirmed. It never occurred to him to lie to her. The truth was far less scary than the fiction adults sometimes concocted. "The scars from where he was attacked by the mummy last year are hurting him."
She turned her huge, luminous eyes to his face. "He is going to die, isn't he?"
Alex put his arms around her and held her close. "I don't know, Ziz. I just don't know. Dads called the Med-jai and they're on the way now." His voice dropped as he spoke his deepest fear. "I don't know if they can save him."
Azizah tightened her grip on Alex, grateful for someone to hold on to. "I am afraid." She admitted with a small sob. Alex held her closer and stroked her hair, unable to tell her that he, too, was afraid, terribly afraid. But then he knew that he didn't have to tell her. She could feel his fear as keenly as he could feel hers. Tentatively he opened his mind. Something deep in his subconscious reached out and touched her. He could feel her answering back. They spoke no more, letting their souls speak the words that their tender years had no words for.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Rick sat unmoving by Ardeth's side. He'd stood back while Khay had stitched the ugly wound closed but returned to his brother's side when it was done. "I can't go through this," he thought to himself. "I can't watch this happen again." Hot tears tracked silently down from his eyes and he buried his face in his hands.
--Ardeth. Stay with me, brother-- He sent the thought winging out from his breaking heart and gasped aloud when he heard a response.
--O'Connell--
It was faint and weak but it was Ardeth's voice he heard in his head.
--Ardeth!-- Rick's mind answered as he fought to control his breathing, knowing that he was still so new at this that any lapse in his attention could break the connection. --I'm here!--
--Who is she?--
Rick's brow furrowed in thought. --Who is who?--
--The woman . . . --
After a moment, Rick realized who he meant. He almost laughed aloud. --Khayriyyah Alaa' al Din,-- he sent, humor tingeing his reply. Ardeth's shock registered even through the tentative bond. --That's right, buddy. Your wife.--
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Khayriyyah carefully poured the powdered silver onto the scales. When she was certain she had the right amount, she poured it into the dish containing the oils the tablets had listed as the correct ones for this ritual. The concoction sputtered and smoked. Khayriyyah and Evy both jumped back as a small white plume lifted from the dish and evaporated into the air. They exchanged a look. "Was that supposed to happen?" Evy asked with nervous smile.
Khayriyyah answered with a tremulous smile of her own. "I have no idea. Let's hope so. What next?"
The two women approached the tablets and resumed their research. "It says that the mixture must be used to trace the words of binding on the wounds. Then the unholy will be sent back to the spirit world forever. Words of binding? Do you know what those are?" Evy's troubled eyes met those of the younger woman.
"Yes. They are here." She pointed to another part of the tablets. "The language is ancient. My hope is that the pronunciation is similar to the way it is today. If it's not, I have no idea what I might be saying."
"Saying?"
Khayriyyah nodded. "The words of binding must be spoken as they are applied. That way, the mummy's spirit is bound both by word and deed."
Evy nodded to show she understood. "Are you ready?" she asked quietly.
Khayriyyah nodded. "I'm ready."
She reached into the healer's bag she'd brought and pulled out a small, leather wrapped bundle. Unrolling it, she revealed a number of small instruments that looked like smaller versions of the tools Safiyah had used when she'd healed these same wounds a year ago. Evy shuddered in remembrance and looked away for a second. When she returned her gaze, Khayriyyah smiled in understanding. "This will not be as bad," she said, trying to reassure her friend. "At least, I don't think it will."
With shaking hands, Khayriyyah took the thin, sharp lancet and the bowl of silver-colored oil and set them on the nightstand while Evy gathered the tablets and laid them on the bed beside Ardeth. Khayriyyah sat down beside the Med-jai king and smoothed her fingers over his face and hair. Even drugged and in pain he was by far the handsomest man she'd ever seen and she felt a fierce feminine pride in the fact that he was hers. She studied his face, letting the perusal of his features calm her. Her thumb ached to caress the fullness of his lower lip and she let it, heedless of the others in the room. Rick glanced up at Evy, a question in his eyes, but she only nodded. It was her way of telling him that she would explain later.
--My Heart, I am here-- The words winged away from Khayriyyah's mind with an ease born of several lifetimes of practice.
--Help me--
The answering plea brought tears to her eyes and she closed them, concentrating all her effort in relaying comfort and assurance to the man beside her.
--You will live, my Heart. Be strong for a while longer--
Khayriyyah sent a wave of her own strength through their bonded souls, giving him what she could without diminishing herself. Ardeth did not respond with words but she felt his strength return somewhat. She took a deep breath and released her grip on his mind.
"I am ready," she said softly as she picked up the lancet and the bowl. Evy held up the tablets so that Khayriyyah could see them and she began to speak even as she began to trace the words over Ardeth's scars in silver. "Ahmhad du barek kreshti ahadlaman. . . "
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Deep within Ardeth's body the mummy's spirit heard the words. It cried out in recognition as the spells that would send it back to the underworld began to pull relentlessly at its tenuous hold on the mortal. Screaming a silent scream of defiance and rage, it fought back.
Sweat beaded on Khayriyyah's face as she fought to maintain control of the stylus. The creature that inhabited Ardeth's body was fighting her, it's fingers lunging up against the force of the spells. Evy and Rick had thrown themselves over Ardeth's shoulders for even as heavily drugged as he was the agony was so great that he thrashed against the force of it. They knew that within Ardeth's body, a battle was taking place and they could only pray that it was one Ardeth would win.
"Gabran et homden homdaiee shret."
Two marks down, two to go. It seemed to Khayriyyah that the spirit's ferocity was waning. Perhaps with each spell in place, it lost some of its power. She could only hope so as she dipped the tapered end of the stylus back into the silver mixture and started the process again.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ardeth leaned against his scimitar and dragged deep, heaving breaths into his lungs. He was plastered in sweat and his arms ached with the force of the blows he was fending off. In the depths of his mind, he battled the mummy's spirit as he always had, with sword and strength. With the completion of each silver line, the mummy lost ground. If only his strength could hold out for a short time more! For he knew that at the end of this waited the Heart of his Soul.
Here in his subconscious, where all was known and then forgotten, he couldn't count the lifetimes he'd spent waiting for her, but they were all laid out before him like tiles in a mosaic. He knew that he had loved Iman deeply but that this was something different, something he had waited for all his life. He simply hadn't realized it until she walked into the room.
A sound behind him and a rush of fetid air were all the warning he had. The mummy's spirit was on the attack again. "Allah, give me strength," he prayed silently as he raised his scimitar to engage in battle once again.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Alex held Azizah close to him, trying to shut out the sounds of her father's agony with his presence. Every once in a while, when Ardeth's cries were particularly harsh, she would cry out herself and Alex would tighten his grip on her even more.
He had told her stories to take her mind off things. He had promised to show her all the sights of London he could think of, then described them to her in elaborate detail; anything to distract her from the horror down the hall. Finally, out of ideas, he began to hum. It was something his mother had always done when he was upset, something she'd done for as long as he could remember. Azizah seemed to calm as the simple melody carried from his chest to her ear. After a while, Alex began to sing the words
Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer do.
I'm half-crazy all for the love of you.
He could feel Azizah relax in his arms somewhat.
It won't be a stylish marriage.
I can't afford a carriage.
She hiccuped a couple of times; her hand loosed its grip on his nightshirt.
But you'll look sweet, upon the seat,
of a bicycle built for two.
Over and over he sang the words until, at last, her head drooped and her breathing evened out. Still, he kept singing, repeating the refrain, stopping only when his own eyes closed in sleep. Allah was merciful. They slept the deep, healing sleep of children and didn't hear the last, hoarse screams of Ardeth Bey as the mummy's spirit was at last ripped from his body and sent spiraling into the underworld, never to return.