Disclaimer: I don't own squat, not a damn thing. Well, I own a rather nice pair of red Converse high-tops, but that's it. As far as Ardeth, Evy, or Rick, no, sorry, not mine. The OC, however, is mine. Flames will be used to light my backyard barbecue pit. My gracious thanks to gypseyracer. I don't have many reviewers, but the few I have are keeping me going here. Come on people, is it really THAT bad?
-Belle
"So what really brings you here?" Rick asked Ardeth as they all sat over lunch. Evy was trying hard to keep Alex in his chair, leaving Ardeth and Rick to carry the conversation.
"I have a small problem. A girl whom we found wandering in the desert. We believe her and her husband were attacked by bedouin raiders. In any case, we can't keep her out there, and I was hoping perhaps you and Evy could see her home, wherever that may be." Ardeth explained.
"Oh I'm sure we could do that easily enough." Evy chimed in, wiping up the water from a glass Alex had tipped over. The child saw his chance and slid from his chair, making a break for the next table over. Without a flinch, Ardeth reached over and grabbed the boy by the belt, lifting him up, legs still moving, and sitting him down on his lap. Blue eyes stared up incredulously at the man who'd been so brazen as to thwart him. He was met with a stern gaze.
"Have your parents told you about the evil priest who lives in the desert?" Ardeth asked. Evy made to protest, but Ardeth looked at her with a smile and she closed her mouth, "Once a year, he rises from the dead, and eats the toes off children who haven't behaved." Evy was relieved, thinking Ardeth would tell him the real story. Rick just laughed.
"So, who's the broa..." Rick began, reconsidering once he saw the look on Evy's face, "woman. Who's the woman?"
"I'm not sure. When I left she was still unconscious from heat stroke. In fact, when I found her, she threatened us with a scimitar she carried. When we knocked it out of her hands, she lunged and tried to choke me." Ardeth explained.
"Sounds like a winner. Are you sure it was the delirium?" Rick asked, Evy playfully punched his arm. "Seriously though, if you think she needs some help, we'd be more than glad to lend a hand." Evidently, he'd given the right answer, and Evy looped her arm through his, nuzzling his shoulder.
"Well, then. I will return to the camp in the morning and see how she fares. How long will you be staying?"
"Our train leaves in a week, but if she's not ready to travel, well, reservations can be changed." Evy explained.
"I am very grateful. I would not wish to send a grieving woman off on her own." Ardeth offered. Rick couldn't help but grin.
"Not to worry. Dealing with Alex will make all her other problems seem trivial."
Lira stared down at her hands. She longed to do something, anything productive. The books on the shelf weren't an option, she hardly understood Arabic. They hadn't let her leave the tent, though she wasn't sure why, so cooking and washing were out of the question. Then she smiled to herself. Cooking wasn't really an option for her anyway, unless these desert folk didn't mind "creative alterations" to their meals. That's how she'd always referred to her meal preparation techniques. "Creative alterations" has a much nicer ring to it than "mistakes." Then Lira saw a sliver of light on the floor and she looked to the door where Dalal had just entered carrying fresh linens and robes. The woman noticed Lira's downcast face right away.
"Now what's got you so low, my dear girl? You're alive, you're safe, and you've recovered a great deal. You should be grabbing life by the reins!" Dalal insisted, shuffling about and finally sitting on the chair next to Lira's cot.
"There's not much of life to grab in here now is there?" Lira asked with a rueful half-smile. In a moment Dalal understood and she smiled.
"We've only kept you here, dear, because we were afraid that seeing the rest of the camp might spook you. Did you really think we were a lone tribe of women who wandered the desert? Our men are warriors and they can be quite formidable. From the behavior you exhibited when my son found you, we thought it best to let you settle in before allowing you to explore." Dalal explained, and a sudden twinkle came to her eyes, "We wouldn't want you swinging that scimitar of yours around or choking anymore of our men." Lira's head shot up, a look of horror in her eyes, and Dalal laughed, one of the heartiest laughs she'd exhibited since before the death of Hatim.
"What did I..." she began before the older woman swatted the question away and recomposed herself.
"No one blames you. You were defending yourself, and it's no wonder you don't remember. You lay unconscious for three days afterward. You did no harm, and Ardeth is a warrior, he understands survival instinct."
"Ardeth is your son?"
"Yes, he has a certain amount of status you might say"
"And he's the one who found me?"
"Indeed."
"And I threatened him with a sword and tried to strangle him?"
"So it seems." Dalal chuckled. Lira shook her head in dismay.
"Well, I do seem to know how to make an entrance." For a moment there was silence. Finally, Dalal sighed and said what she'd been meaning to say for days.
"I will leave it to my son to explain to you more in depth the ways of our people, but as you answered those rather invasive questions presented to you satisfactorily, I feel I should let you know a little more about us. In short, we are one of twelve tribes. We are those who defend the... treasures... of Egypt." Dalal explained. Lira looked on in fascination. Dalal continued, "Ardeth, my son, is the commander of the this, the First Tribe." Lira's face turned a little pink. "He is also the chief of the twelve tribes. All of the other commanders answer to him." Dalal finished. She was quite sure that she'd not seen this shade of red on any human face before. The girls ears looked to be on fire.
"I strangled the chief of the twelve tribes of a band of desert warriors who protect the artifacts of Egypt?" Lira clarified in a small, horse voice.
"I'm afraid so." Dalal couldn't hold back her grin.
"I really should write a book. At least someone might learn from me."
It was another three days ride back to his camp, and Ardeth was beginning to resent all the work this woman had put him through. He was imposing upon two of his most trusted friends, and that was not to be done lightly. There was a chance they may have to move the camp because of her, and she'd caused a great deal more scandal than she may have been worth. Still, after twelve years of leading his people and proving himself time and time again, they hardly questioned him. Their life was filled with brutality, but it was never senseless or reckless. They valued human life, and in reality, that's exactly why they did what they did.
Ardeth was relieved to see his camp stretched out before him as he crested the last dune. That there could be such life and vibrance in this harsh land was endlessly amazing. The camps of the Med-Jai thrived and every man who went out on mission ached to return to his family and friends. Perhaps that's what kept their civilization going for thousands of years. The men were able to leave because they knew what greeted them when they returned. Ardeth had his mother, and his few close friends, but for siblings he had none, and he had not yet taken a wife. His life was duty. He was able to return to camp because he knew he'd be leaving for the open desert again. Perhaps it was not the healthiest mind set, but to each his own.
In the middle of camp he could see a ring of people around two of his men, sparring. The atmosphere was light and Ardeth decided it must be for sport and not honor, so he paid it little mind. Dalal awaited him by the post where Marid would be tied and Ardeth smiled to her.
"Good morning, mother." he said warmly, dismounting and tying Marid to the stake. The horse was nudging him eagerly for a drink of water, and Ardeth obliged, untying the skin of water attached to his saddle and hanging it on the stake.
"Good morning, my son. I trust your journey went well."
"Indeed. How's the woman?"
"She fares much better. In fact, once you're done here, you can see for yourself."
"You mean, she's well enough to have acclimated herself to the men?" he asked, lifting the saddle off Marid's sweaty back and laying it on it's rack to air out.
"You'd hardly tell what she's been through." Dalal said cryptically. There was a murmur of disappointment from the crowd behind her. Ardeth, his horse having been taken care off, made his way to see who had won and who had lost. He always made sure to praise his men for practicing of their own volition.
In the circle, one of his young captains was breathing heavily, but clearly victorious. Across from him, a smaller framed man was turned the other direction, brushing sand off his robes. When the figure turned and Ardeth saw not a man, but a woman with short, curled-out auburn locks poking from under blue linen with a sword in her hand he was instantly perplexed. This could not be one of their women, for she was too pale. It took Ardeth a moment to realize that this could only possibly be the strange woman from the desert. As the men saw Ardeth, they inclined their heads out of respect and the woman's head turned this way and that in confusion. Her eyes then locked on Ardeth standing there with Dalal next to him and she understood. Green eyes became lost in a sea of red and she bowed low, not wanting to show her face and still knowing that her exaggerated motion had only drawn more attention to her.
"Well done, Dabir, I am always pleased to see my men practicing on their own accord." Ardeth congratulated, but Dabir seemed less than thrilled with his leader's compliment. He was, besides victorious, quite winded from the effort. Thus Ardeth turned his gaze to the woman who had turned and looked to be leaving the circle. "And you." he called. Lira stopped, shoulders drooping, and turned. Ardeth grinned inwardly. "What is your name?"
"Lira. Lira Akasma Onen." she spoke with as much confidence as she could muster,"Sir."
"Well, Lira, I believe we've found you a way home."
A/N: Wohoo, chapter 4. I'm currently working on Chapter 7, so, yeah, luckily I'm a bit ahead. I'm begging at this point, on my knees for some reviews. It's a common courtisy. When I read a story I like I give the writer some feedback. Throw me a bone, here, people. Seriously, I'm a very self conscious individual, low self esteem and all that. So please, be a pal, drop me a line.
