Chapter 8
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters seen in this story and can hear their relief from here.
It was a silent, subdued party that returned to the Sphinx. Almost an hour had passed since tracking Jakal and Nefertina and finding them. Armon had looked back at them after entering the Hot Ra for the long journey home, surprised to see the normally extroverted girl clinging hollow-eyed to their leader. Neither of the pair spoke a word to their comrades, for now neither of their comrades questioned them.
But still the enigma remained… what could have happened to make their little charioteer so despondent and withdrawn?
Had someone hurt her?
"Hey, what's―" The hulking warrior began to ask before being pulled back into his seat by the driving Rath.
"Be quiet, face front, and don't ask anything," the wizard ordered moodily.
His relief at finding them effectively quashed, Armon settled worriedly down for the trip, stealing glances back at the quiet forms of his friends. Rath sent him several warning looks, he answered with a glare of his own.
Something had happened, of that there was no doubt. By the appearance of things, with tears continuously coursing down her ashen face, he could surmise that whatever happened to her was horrible. But what? There were no physical signs, none he could see. No bruises marred her flesh, no cuts, only those unsettling tears. The young woman was the sister he never had, if someone truly hurt her, they would answer to him.
Glancing back once more, seeing the way Jakal held her and whispered softly, he realized he would have to wait in line.
Back inside the Sphinx, away from his and Rath's ears, the two shared brief conversation. Or perhaps an argument for there was much vigorous head shaking on Nefertina's part as a haunted look came into her tearing grey eyes. It was a troubling expression to witness.
Jakal nodded after a pause and turned to escort the unsteady young guardian to her sarcophagus. At a distance, he and the wizard followed behind, journeying only so far as the sitting room.
He watched the two share a few more words before Nefertina shut herself into her coffin-bed. His leader walked back to them, the normal clip to his step gone as he trudged and finally sank onto the stone sofa.
"What happened to her?" Rath asked gently before Armon could get his own question out. As it was, he could only nod in agreement.
"It is not my place to say," their leader answered tiredly. "When she decides to tell you, she will."
Jakal looked at his friends, anxiety clearly showing on their faces and in the way they stood. They would want more answers than he could give them, having promised Nefertina he would say nothing without her permission.
"Why did you not return here last night, then?"
Ah, that was a response he could give. "The storm became too severe to travel through." He nearly sighed when he saw Armon shift his concerned gaze to the silent feline sarcophagus and look back to him with his brown eyes narrowed.
The giant was upset over her condition and probably angry, it was understandable. The warrior was quite fond of the little guardian, often looking out for her the way one would a sibling, even in Egypt. That she was obviously hurt and he had been unable to protect her must be tearing him apart, as surely as it tore at Jakal.
When they found Scarab the two of them would have to take turns killing him. Just thinking of the foul conjurer made him ball his hands into tight fists and growl. There would be a reckoning soon, and then Scarab would never be a threat to anyone ever again…
"Who did this to her? And where can I find them?" The question came out a low rumbling growl, the largest guardian clenching and unclenching his powerful fist. With his teeth bared and brow furrowed in rage, Armon was a frightening sight to behold.
Still, Jakal found himself hesitating. What could he disclose? Surely, she would want them to know Scarab was the cause of her pain, and that would not require telling what had happened… He gave his word, his oath; no mention of what happened would pass his lips unless she allowed it. What was he to do? They would need to know if the sorcerer attacked in this new form.
"I don't know where he slinked off to, but… it was Scarab," he stood from the sofa, desiring to recharge his energies in case the monster decided to test his ill-gotten new powers. "That is all I will tell you without her consent."
He slipped into his sarcophagus amidst Armon swearing revenge, closing the lid just as Rath told the furious giant to wait in line.
Emotionally drained, he realized he was quite a bit more tired than he expected. Yet sleep proved elusive, his mind refusing to quiet, his anger refusing to abate. He was tense, his fists clenching and unclenching in agitation much the same way Armon's had earlier, as he went through once more all that Nefertina had told him. Scarab would pay for what he did.
When he got his hands on the beastly man, his newfound youth would offer no advantage, his magics no protection. There would be blood spilled, and as all the gods as witnesses it would be Scarab's.
I should have gone with her, he thought later. I should have done more to protect her.
As he lay in his blue and gold tomb feeling its power revitalize his depleted energies, he became aware of the oddly sudden thought that he missed holding her. Crying or not, saddened or not, he had… enjoyed having her in his arms, he realized now. Horus help him, she did not need to be subject to whatever fey desire he felt right now, had felt for some years. She needed his support and protection.
Why did he have to notice how nice it felt to have her in his arms, now, of all times? Anger at Scarab was easier to deal with, easier to solve. What was he to do with these stranger emotions?
Vague thoughts of his long-dead wife and son flitted through his churning mind, whatever reconciliation he had achieved those three years ago about what had happened to them. He still loved his son, was looking forward to seeing the type of man he grew to be when the Western Gate opened for him. Tia… he still loved her after a fashion, still held a place in his heart for her, but it had faded. Three years ago he learned she had remarried, three years ago the tomb of she and her second husband had been discovered. He was glad she had found another chance at happiness.
So where did that leave him? No family to speak of anymore, and a young woman he cared deeply for who needed him more than ever.
How would she feel about this? It was undoubtedly something she did not need to know of currently with what hell she had been put through. What declarations he had could wait.
And why was she out there? A new set of thoughts intruded into his brain, as the remote cliff he found her on came back into his memory. It was a solitary, lonely place, so unlike the vivacious and gregarious charioteer he had known for so long.
He wondered what could have driven her there, and feared if perhaps it was he and the ridiculous argument of earlier. More heatedly, he wondered what more Scarab could be planning. It seemed, looking back on what he had seen amidst the driving rain, that despicable man went away unfinished. He had seen Scarab's slight figure kneeling beside her, had seen him bent suspiciously over her battered body.
Nefertina had told him that the magician had done something to her amulet and left her near dead from weakness, but she had been closer to unconsciousness than lucidity at that point and was unsure what exactly he did. She remembered his parting words though, would carry them for the rest of her life. It was those words that brought a fresh surge of anger and disquiet through his body.
He was going to come after her again.
End chapter 8
The next will be better, I promise.