Rick used little caution as he strode into pyramid. He wasn't worried. He knew that Imhotep's goal was deep within, and the priest did not consider Rick an opponent worth considering. Not when there was a Scorpion King to vanquish and a dark army to steal. Rick would have thought that the priest would have learned better than to underestimate him by now, but power was just as blinding as arrogance.
The inside of the pyramid was cool, a shock after so much time spent in the scalding Egyptian sun. He hesitated a second to give his eyes time to adjust to the abrupt change from blinding light to stifling darkness. He had never been comfortable surrounded by so much stone. It pressed down on him not with the weight of solid rock, but with the weight of the ages. On some of Evy's digs, there were moments where he had felt something, aware that he was being watched.
Evy had chuckled when he'd first confessed his suspicions. She'd shaken her head and called him paranoid, a side effect of carrying so many weapons to a dig site. Rick had never mentioned it again, but the itch between his shoulder blades that told him he was being watched had never truly faded. It was back again, a subtle tingling along the back of his neck that made him want to turn around and peer into deep shadows.
Thinking of his wife and how she would never be able to tease him again would have crippled him if the rage hadn't shoved it aside, brutally beat it down before it could gnaw at the cold determination that kept him moving. Near the entry way he found an unlit torch resting in its bracket and in a matter of moments he had it lit, the fire crackling hungrily. Eying the old torch, Rick figured he had only a little ways to go before the flame devoured the ancient oil rag.
Following a silent prompting, he turned and headed towards a dark entry way. His torch beat back the shadows, the flames snapping and hissing as they consumed its source. Where before Rick had moved without caution, now his steps slowed. Instincts honed by years of knowing that his life hung in the balance of moving one second faster than the other guy screamed that something was not right. Not wrong, but different. The air was a little colder, the sand strangely muted beneath his feet. Little things that he wouldn't have noticed if he weren't alone with his nerves buzzing.
He had just turned the corner when he felt something ripple a head of him. His mind struggled to grasp what he was feeling when a force blasted past him. Heat struck him, wheeled him around, and for one terrifying moment he felt something alien brush through him. It was cold where the first surge had been unbearably hot. What ever it was, it was vast, massive compared to him. There was no mercy there, unyielding power that slid over and through him.
In the space of a breath he was the focus of something beyond human imagination; a chilling regard that seared him, diving down into dark corridors of him self that he did not know existed. In that darkness something clicked and rattled, a dry rasp of pincers brushing against something so very vulnerable. Rick barely had time to gasp before it was gone, leaving him staggering in its wake, a trail of gleaming gold the only sign of its existence.
Ardeth hissed as he felt the surge of power that washed through Rick, clenched Antar's reins in tight fists as an alien power brushed against the raw patch across Rick's soul that tied him to Ardeth. A chill whipped through him, the block he had in place doing nothing to ward him from the death god's touch. He could feel the foreign power slide around inside him, an echo of scuttling feet and the dry rasp of shell armor over sand sounding within his being.
"Ardeth! What is wrong?"
Ignoring Essam's plea, Ardeth spurred Antar forward; towards the dark power he felt swelling in the distance. The tense stallion fairly leapt forward and only with Ardeth's firm hand did he settle down and keep to a steady pace. As one the army followed his lead, the thunder of hundreds of hooves striking the sand a muted roar in his ears.
The army had barely begun moving when a black shadow slid across a far dune, staining the sand with darkness when no clouds barred the sun's place in the sky. Ardeth felt the hair rise along the back of his neck and arms as the dark power glided closer. It flew across the sands in a sea of writhing claws, mimicking the waves of an ocean as it neared their position.
Ardeth barely heard the men's startled cries and muttered oath's as those who could sense magic felt the sheer power that painted the sands black. A familiar pressure between his shoulder blades had him twisting around to see that Essam was watching him, dark eyes sharp with confusion and worry. Ardeth's mouth pulled down into a dark frown as he realized that if they both should survive this battle he owed his friend an explanation.
Without a word Ardeth spurred Antar forward until he was slightly a head of the others. As the one who had led his people to the field of battle, so to would he lead them across it to face the enemy. Looking out at the black sands that seethed at the edges with phantom scorpions, Ardeth prayed that Rick would be successful.
"So it begins."
Clutching his torch as a make shift weapon, Rick made his way down the twisting hallway, his feet moving whisper soft over cool sand. Walking was proving to be more difficult than he remembered. He had to focus on the walls and where he was placing his feet. His skin was tingling, hair standing on end and littered with goose bumps. Everything seemed distant, distorted almost. The warmth of the torch did little to extinguish the chill that had slipped beneath his skin. His mind was fuzzy, and he kept blinking, strange lights dancing along the edge of his vision only to disappear when he turned to face them.
It was unnerving, and Rick wondered if it had anything to do with the presence he had felt. He felt violated, sliced open and turned inside out for inspection. Something had seen through him, before sliding away and leaving him gasping in its wake. Rick had never felt anything like it, and he hoped to God that he would be spared the experience a second time.
Surrounded by shadows that danced beneath the long line of braziers set into the glittering walls, Rick could feel the dark intent that shaped this place. It was a palpable sensation; a stickiness to the air he breathed, a bitterness that struck the back of his throat. Without knowing how he knew, Rick was aware that the power that swept by him earlier was at fault.
As the blast of strange power washed over him, he had gotten a sense that it was twisted out of shape. A perversion of what should have been clean and radiant, a delicate balance that was tenuous at best. It had set his teeth on edge and made his skin crawl to feel the raw slide of broken power. His certainty was disorienting. It was not something he had been told, or learned. It was fragile, wisps of confidence that slid away when he tried to grasp a hold of it, to understand.
Rick froze as the sound of grunts reached him. Still feeling off balance and wishing that the fog would clear out of his head, Rick approached slowly. Turning the corner he saw that the passageway opened up into a brightly lit room. The grunts grew louder.
Rick followed the light, eager to leave behind the flickering darkness that his torch only threw into bright relief. Movement to his left drew his attention and Rick's head snapped around. He relaxed when he saw Hafez pressed up against a massive rendering of a scorpion, its wicked claws pointed inward as if to spear the man for daring to tread too close.
A quick glance determined the man no threat. His arm appeared to be stuck inside the statue and he wasn't going anywhere soon. Rick dismissed him; he would sate his rage on Imhotep.
"You're too late O'Connell. I have released the Army of Anubis."
So it was this man who was responsible for that surreal blast. His focus only sharpened. Now he had even more reason to find Imhotep, not that he needed it. Even knowing that he would not be able to bring Evy back by slaying the undead priest did little to assuage his fury. It would bring him satisfaction, and that would have to be enough.
As he turned away a statue caught his eye. Or at least the double bladed ax caught in its immortal grip. His eyes followed the firelight that danced across the wicked edge, maintaining its sharpness even through the passage of time. Rick tossed the torch aside and reached for the smooth handle. Hafez's voice was an indistinct buzzing in his ears as he lifted the weapon free.
"Lord Imhotep shall soon kill the Scorpion King and take command of his armies." The Curator's tone was rather triumphant for a man that couldn't run away.
Rick weighed the axe, his dark gaze taking in the burnished metal. The weight was comforting in his hands, holding a deadly familiarity. The balance was a little off, but it was something he knew how to compensate for. He didn't question where the knowledge had come from when he had never before held such a weapon. It was there, and he would use it.
"Not after I get through with him." Rough satisfaction coated his tone, hands tight around the axe's stave.
The beginnings of laughter at his back were strangled beneath pain-filled cries. Rick whirled around, his new axe leveled at the threat. He watched as Hafez was yanked against the body of the statue, his shrill cries mingling with the ominous sound of ripping flesh. When he finally managed to pull away, he cradled an arm stripped to the bone. All that was left was slimy mucus and bone poking out of a shredded sleeve.
Taking in the hideous remains of Hafez's arm, Rick snorted, dark satisfaction mingling with the barely banked rage that seethed through him. Perhaps there was justice in the world after all. Turning his back on the man and his whimpering cries, Rick strode towards the far passageway. He had a priest to find.