Disclaimer: I don't own the labyrinth or any characters from it. This story is from a story i read about 16 years ago but i am placing character from the labyrinth and i am changing the content to match so i hope you like the twist and enjoy this story.

Chapter two

Algiers, Northwest Africa, 1903

Algiers, the teeming Capital of Algeria that overlooked the vivid waters of the bay, promised to be exotic beyond even Ann's wildest imaginings, Ann thought as she tentatively made her way down the precarious wooden gangplank of the L' Aventure, the grubby little French vessel that had brought her safely through the straits of Gibraltar and across the sparkling Mediterranean on the first leg of her search for missing brother.

Tom her lawyer cousin, had discovered a clue to her brother's disappearance from some of the more unsavory members of his clientele: the gaming-house proprietors to whom Toby had been indebted for several thousand pounds. Toby Williams' gambling debts had been left unpaid when he fled the authorities and the country. His donors' considerable interest in finding him had resulted in their uncovering his trail as far as Paris. There, Ann had been astounded to learn they'd discovered that Ann had enlisted in the French Foreign Legion to put himself beyond the long arm of the law and themselves!

No sooner had Tom told her this than Ann had pensioned off old Sally, the cook, given notice to the maid, closed up William Hall, left the keys and her business affairs in Tom's capable hands and sold the double rope of matched pearls her adopted mother had bequeathed her to a reputable jeweler in the City. She'd decided to use the proceeds from their sale to finance her search for Toby's whereabouts; for she was determined to find him and somehow right the enormous wrong she'd done him.

France being the obvious starting point for her quest, she'd traveled by ferry and then by train to the city of Paris, where=by means of flirtatious glances, tearful cajoling, and several hefty bribes-she'd at last uncovered the knowledge she sought.

Toby, a recruiting officer had reluctantly informed her, had indeed joined the Legion Etrangere the year pervious. From there he had been dispatched to the Foreign Legion head-quarters of Sidi-bel-Abbes, Northwest Africa, from which he had doubtless been assigned to some desert outpost by now.

Was he certain the young man he remembered had been her brother? She'd asked the recruiting officer anxiously. Surely with so many young men enlisted each week, he could have been mistaken. The recruiting officer had bristled at such an idea. He, a soldier of thirty-five years' honorable service to one with such an unusual first name who had also been British and who had worn about his neck a medallion of St. Christopher, an unusual trinket for an Englishman to wear? Mon Dieu, was it likely he would have forgotten? Ann had agreed that it was not. The man's description of the silvery rope chain and the medal she herself had bought as a gift for Toby was the final proof she needed that she was headed in the right direction.

At last she'd though optimistically, she had a place to begin her search? And there was an excellent chance she'd be able to find her brother. Once she'd done so, she'd try her utmost to make amends to him. Toby well unlike her, Toby had always been of an unforgiving nature, and jealous of Ann's position as the oldest and her also being an adopted daughter to their parents. She had allowed his past behavior to cloud her judgment of the incident, and in the process had badly let her brother down when he'd needed her support most. But even so, she discovered just a few weeks ago that she'd misjudged him, and that he'd been telling her the truth about his affair with Charles Marchant's wife, she had to try. She knew she couldn't live with her guilt if she didn't find him and ask forgiveness!

The moment she disembarked, there were white-robed natives everywhere about her, clamoring in strident tones for the ma,mselle to hire their services as porters or guides, or to see to her luggage safely transported aboard the man's weathered gharry, an Indian-style canopied open carriage drawn by a scrawny mule. She opened her lacy parasol with a practiced twirl and leaned comfortably back against the brown leather seat to enjoy her first views of Algiers' New Quarter as they drove to what Muhammad, her driver, described as a predominantly British hotel, the Grand Empress, which was just a few streets distant from the government buildings of the French, of whose North African Republic Algiers was a part.

She glimpsed amongst the kaleidoscopic variety of faces the hawk-featured faces of fair-skinned Berbers, fierce nomadic tribesmen whose home was the forbidding and little-known Sahara to the south, and also the swarthy Bedouins, who herded their flocks of sheep and goats from desert oasis to desert oasis all winter long, and who returned to their palatial homes in the white-walled oasis cities only for the blistering months of summer.

It was here-not in the New Quarter, but in the teaming bazaars of the mysterious, fabled Casbah-That Ann found herself two days after her arrival, to both her secret delight and her dismay.

After being curtly told that she was wasting her time at the Legion by her brother's commanding officer she was not about to do as they say and leave. Ann was able to talk to one of the other officers and had found out that her brother was stationed to a remote outpost in the desert. Ann, not even giving a thought to giving up, decided that after returning to her hotel she would venture out into Casbah in hopes of finding a guide for her journey to the outpost of Fort Valeureux.

As Muhammad as her driver, Ann was able to stumble upon a young boy whose father was on a pilgrimage to Mecca and the caravan would be departing within two days from now and would assist her on her way to the outpost of she would like. Ann seeing this as a god sent message for her to take the opportunity decided to meet and talk with the boy's father.

Ann flushed with triumph and glowing with anticipation of the great adventure about to unfold before her -had hired herself a guide! Her rendezvous with destiny was about to begin, she sensed. Whatever lay ahead from here on would be solely the results of her own actions, combined with the kismet, or fate, that ruled all men. A tingle of excitement rippled through her as she tumbled wearily into her bed at the hotel that night. Tomorrow, she would make the train journey south to Sidi-bel-Abbes, and there meet up with Cemal, her guide, and his son, Nabal, one more, and join the pilgrims' caravan.

The sands of the Sahara awaited her-and the magical promise of a desert dream.

Enchantress of Dreams: Hope you enjoyed this Chapter to the story. I know it is slow going but have to have a background :) the other story i am writing Hearts vision will still continue as will this one. Thanx to my readers... sorry for such long time between updates will try to update more but life tends to get in the way.