Chapter Twenty-Five: Choices

 

***

 

Evy and Alex were cleaning the floors of the palace.  They meandered slowly down the various hallways, alternately sweeping the floors or dusting the marble busts of the Egyptian Gods.  The golden frescoes gleamed down on them, the Egyptian figures and scenes painted with an expert hand.  Torches, fastened to the walls, lit the way brightly, illuminating the craftsmanship and beauty of the designs.  Many of the paintings were of folktales and stories of the Gods–Osiris on his golden barge, Hathor before her gleaming mirror, Anubis, holding his dark scales of judgment.

 

Alex halfheartedly pushed the broom against the red carpeted floor.  Neither Imhotep nor Anck-su-namun really checked on their work any more.  Evy insisted that they keep up the pretense of doing work so that they wouldn’t attract undue attention to themselves.  But they weren’t really concerned with cleaning anymore.

 

Every now and then Evy would stop and tell Alex one or another of the ancient myths, pointing to the images on the wall that corresponded to her tale.  After the tale of Osiris’ death at the hands of his brother Set, Alex finally protested.

 

“Mum, I’ve heard these a thousand times.”

 

Evy smiled indulgently.  “I know, sweets.  I like to think there’s still stuff that I can teach you.”  She ruffled his hair and he let her, not minding as he had used to.  Affection had seemed gooey to him.  Now it seemed necessary, important.  You never knew when the person you loved would be gone.

 

“There’s other stuff you can teach me,” Alex replied unthinkingly.  He bit his lip and fussed at his messy blond hair–hair just like his father’s.

 

At his words, Evy unexpectedly found tears forming in her eyes.  She pushed them away impatiently.  She had no time for crying.  And she hated it when Alex saw her cry.  She had to be strong for him, now and always.

 

There were so many things she wanted to teach Alex–but they were all lessons that had to be learned out in the world.  Alex knew as much of Egyptian history as a ten year old could take in, and Evy had taught him much about history in other regions, too.  But without access to novels and poetry, to science and math texts–Alex’s education was incomplete.

 

Evy was almost at the end of her rope.  She had given Alex almost everything she knew, but it wouldn’t be enough for them to survive on for much longer.

 

She sighed, tugging impatiently at her frazzled hair which hung loose down her back.  Her only concern was for Alex.  She was alert, ready every single day, for the moment when Imhotep would be attacked.  She would be ready to fight, if she had to.

 

“Alright, munchkin,” Evy said, tucking her wavy brown hair behind her ears.  “You run along back to our rooms.  I’ll sweep up the library and then we’ll have dinner.” 

 

Alex brightened.  “And chess, too?” he asked hopefully.  They had created their own chess set from various items found around the empty palace.  Evy was sure no one would notice that they were gone.

 

Evy smiled.  “And chess.”

 

“K, mum,” Alex said smiling.  “See you soon.”  He kissed her quickly on the cheek and turned and skipped down the brightly illuminated hallway towards the dining room.  Beyond the dining room was the massive throne room, and beyond that were the sleeping quarters.

 

Evy sighed.  After all that they had been through, her son was still a wonderful boy.  Imhotep hadn’t ruined everything in her life.

 

Unbidden, an image of Rick rose in her mind.  Just seeing his face–lanky blond hair, bright blue eyes, boyish grin–made her ache inside.  She missed him wholly, with all of her being–like the tiny crab misses its opalescent shell–its protection, its home, its other half.

 

She was strong and she was surviving.  But she could feel the gaping hole in her chest, the place Rick’s presence in her life had filled.  She knew he still loved her and would rescue her the moment he had a chance.  But knowing that the love was still there wasn’t enough.  She needed him beside her, physically, needed his strong arms wrapped around her, needed to be able to lean back onto his chest.  She needed his touch, his kisses, his body near hers to remind her that they would love each other forever.

 

Evy swallowed, pressing her lips together roughly as she tried to regain control of her emotions.  Thinking of Rick always broke the confidant mask she wore around everyone, even Alex.  She could feel the physical ache in her chest, the ache of loneliness.

 

Gripping the broom and taking a deep breath, Evy was able to force Rick’s image from her mind.  It would do no good dwelling on what she didn’t have.

 

Holding the broom, Evy pushed her shoulder into the heavy oak door of the library.  She turned her thoughts to the mundane actions of cleaning and dusting.  If she could think only about trivial things, she wouldn’t break her heart thinking about her husband, toiling in the slaves’ quarters, or Jonathan, who was probably hiding in England, or Ardeth, who was probably dead, along with the rest of the brave warrior race of Med Jai.  If she thought too hard about it she would go mad.

 

The door creaked open and Evy took a step in.  She turned her mind to dusting.  Imhotep would notice if his library was dusty.  She hadn’t been in there in a week.

 

She was always glad when he was out of the palace.  It wasn’t that he went out of his way to bother her, usually.  It was his presence.  It was eerie, unsettling.  He exuded evil and Evy could feel it.

 

She heard a sniffle.  What? she thought, her face furrowing in confusion.

 

She turned.  Her mouth fell open.

 

There, sitting in his red velvet chair with his face in his hands, was Imhotep.

 

“Oh, excuse me–” she started, shocked.  What was he doing here?

 

“You,” he growled angrily, looking up at her.  “What are you doing here?”

 

Her question exactly.  “I, I thought you were still away, I did not know–” Evy babbled, clutching at the mop handle so tightly her knuckles turned white.  It wasn’t Imhotep’s accusatory tone that unnerved her so–she had heard it many times before.  It wasn’t the anger in his voice, either, or the fact that they were alone together, or even her surprise at seeing him when he was supposed to be in the Americas.

 

What unnerved her so were the tears on his cheeks.

 

He lowered his head, hiding his damp face.  “You have come to gloat over my pain, have you not?  Well go ahead!” he said bitterly.  “Enjoy!”

 

Evy couldn’t move.  She had never seen Imhotep like this.  A part of her wanted to flee, to run as far away as possible.

 

But another part of her saw clearly a tormented man, a man who had at one time been her friend.  There were times all that she saw of Imhotep was the evil being he had become.  But sometimes she saw the man she had known three millennia ago.  And that caused her even more pain, hating a man she had once called a friend, a teacher, a mentor.

 

“I do not enjoy your pain,” Evy admitted simply, her white hands still wrapped around the broom handle.

 

Imhotep looked up, surprised by the lack of anger in her voice.

 

“Why not?  You must hate me,” Imhotep said bitterly.  He looked down again, holding his face in his broad hands.

 

Evy swallowed, taking a step into the room.  Imhotep had never behaved like this in front of her before.  And she realized that he, too, had a soul and a conscience, no matter how heavily they were masked.  “Part of me hates you for the things you have done...” she hesitated.  “But I understand you, too.”

 

“I don’t deserve your understanding,” he said roughly.

 

“No, but the man you were does.”  Evy leaned against a bookcase, her hip and shoulder taking her weight, as she looked at Imhotep.  As she looked at him, it was almost as though she were looking at her teacher, many years ago...

 

Imhotep’s eyes gleamed with regret and pain.  “We were friends, three millennia ago.  You remember.”

 

“I remember my respect and admiration for you,” Evy responded honestly.

 

“Not just that.  We were friends.  We used to talk.”  Imhotep’s eyes clouded as he drifted back in time, remembering.

 

Evy turned slightly away.  “Yes, we used to,” she murmured, mostly to herself, as her mind hazed, searching, dredging up ancient memories.  “But you turned away from me.”

 

Imhotep’s brows furrowed as he tried to remember.  “I turned away from you?”

 

Evy looked away, her voice husky with an old pain.  “You turned away from me.  You stopped confiding in me because you found someone else.  You chose someone else.”

 

Imhotep’s eyes glistened with remorse.  “Did I hurt you?” he asked softly.

 

“You betrayed me and my father!” Evy replied hoarsely, equal parts anger and pain causing the tears that slowly began building in her eyes.

 

“We cannot choose who we love, princess.”

 

Evy could not look at him, trying desperately to dispel the lump in her throat.  “I know that.  But we do choose who we betray.”

 

Imhotep sighed.  “We have fought many battles against each other, Nefertiri.  But before our lives took different paths, before I knew Anck-su-namun, we were not enemies.  I never wanted to betray you.”  He paused, remembering.  “I killed for the love of a woman, not for the hate of a Pharaoh.”  He paused again.  “Do you remember the last time we saw each other in that life?”

 

Evy’s lips parted slightly as she tried to recollect that moment, shifting through the multitude of memories–memories of two very different lifetimes.  “I’m not sure,” she confessed, searching her mind.

 

“Let me show you,” Imhotep said, still seated, stretching out his hand.  Evy hesitated, then took the four steps forward, until she was standing in front of him.

 

“Remember, Princess, remember how you were my confessor...”  Imhotep gently touched her outstretched fingertips and Evy felt a jolt of electricity bolt through her.

 

***

 

“Imhotep,” Nefertiri said, surprised, as she walked into her father’s throne room, seeing him standing there.  “I am glad to see you, you were not at the feast last night.”

 

The priest looked up from his thoughts.  He had been trying to take his mind off of Anck-su-namun and what he must do, but he was failing miserably.

 

“Nefertiri,” he said, lowering his head.  The great hall of the throne room was completely empty except for the two of them.

 

“Come, sit with me,” she offered, seating herself on a bench on the side of the great room.

 

Imhotep sat down next to her, unsure of what to say.

 

“You’ve been so distant lately,” she began.

 

“Have I?” he asked, looking at her, but they both knew his ignorance was feigned.

 

“Imhotep,” the princess said, “our friendship has not been what it was.”

 

He looked down.  “It is as you say.”

 

“Why?” she asked plaintively.

 

Because I am planning on murdering your father! Because I am planning on betraying every oath I ever took to free the woman I love! Imhotep wanted to scream the truth, but he knew he could not.

 

Nefertiri bit her lip, unnerved by Imhotep’s silence.  He seemed edgier, raw, tense...the opposite of what he had always been: calm, poised, self-controlled.  She decided to try a guess.

 

“Does it have anything to do with Anck-su-namun?”

 

Imhotep’s head shot up.  “What makes you say that?” he asked sharply.

 

Nefertiri winced at his tone.  “It’s nothing...it’s just that I’ve seen you look at her...”  She fell silent.  “I’ve seen you look at her in the same way that Menmet looks at me.”

 

Imhotep’s eyes softened.  “Do you...love Menmet?”

 

The princess nodded, her eyes dampening.  “I haven’t told a soul.  It is such a relief to finally tell someone.”

 

Imhotep leaned forward, taking Nefertiri’s hands in his own.  “I will keep your secret well, my princess.”

 

She smiled and nodded, wiping away a tear.  “And what of Anck-su-namun?”

 

Imhotep lowered his eyes, although he kept his hands wrapped around Nefertiri’s small ones.  “You must promise me your secrecy.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I love Anck-su-namun.  And she loves me.”

 

Nefertiri’s eyes filled with concern.  “But my father–”

 

“I know, I know, I have thought about everything,” Imhotep broke in, his inner turmoil showing plainly on his face.  “There is no way for us to be together honorably in this lifetime.”

 

The princess’ eyes filled with tears.  “Oh Imhotep, I face the same problem!  I can never marry a Med Jai!”

 

Imhotep met her tear-filled eyes.  “Have you ever considered...running away together?”

 

Nefertiri’s eyes widened in shock.  “Imhotep, can you truly ask me that?  I suppose I have fantasized about it...but I, and he, would never abandon our responsibilities.  We have both sworn oaths to fulfill our duties here.”

 

“What duties are more important than love?” Imhotep asked bitterly, her purity and goodness staining his rapidly darkening soul.

 

“I must marry and produce an heir,” she said.  “I know it does not sound noble–but I was born for it.  You know that.  And Menmet has sworn to his people and to the Pharaoh.  He is doubly bound.”

 

“As am I,” Imhotep said softly.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I have sworn to your father and to my Gods.  Neither will be forgiving.”

 

Nefertiri swallowed, a tear slipping and sliding down her cheek.  “Imhotep, we will both be forced to give up the ones that we love for duty.  I don’t know if I can bear it.”  Her head drooped as she finally gave in and wept.

 

Imhotep gathered her in his arms.  “My princess, shhh,” he soothed, holding her as he would hold his baby sister.

 

She was so pure, so good.  And he was decaying from the inside, his soul rotting more with every thought of betrayal and murder.

 

As he held her, Imhotep understood that Nefertiri was stronger than he.  She would be able to fulfill her oaths–remain true to her Gods–and live her life without love.  But he was weak.  He would never be able to live without Anck-su-namun.

 

“Nefertiri, listen to me,” he said urgently, rocking her gently.  “Whatever happens in this lifetime, or any lifetime, I want you to remember this.”

 

She raised her tear-stained face up to his, so simple and trusting Imhotep felt he could weep.

 

And suddenly, it seemed as though the very walls of the throne room faded away, and the priest and the princess were surrounded by a wall of shimmering light.  He held her, and it seemed that their physical bodies melted away, until they were one with the air, with the light, and their faces became nothing but shadows...

 

From across a great distance, Imhotep heard himself speaking, and he knew it came from a deep corner of his soul, a part of him he would someday soon thrust from himself in order to live with his choices.  “Remember that I always loved you as a sister, and that I will always regret any pain I have ever caused you.  Whatever I do, in the future, please remember that I did it for love, not for hate.”

 

Imhotep drew in a ragged breath, seeing nothing, the very air shivering around them, feeling her in his arms, as though they were floating, above and over space.  “When you are an old woman, I want you to remember me as I am now–a priest, a healer, a man of God.  And know that, for the rest of my rebirths into this world, I will carry with me regret, a deep remorse that no time can erase.”

 

And with his final words, it was as though the fabric of time rippled and trembled, and once again he was himself, and Nefertiri was herself.  The room no longer shimmered around them, they were no longer ringed in light.  Imhotep wondered what it meant, or if it had been a trick of his mind.

 

Nefertiri looked up at him.  “Imhotep, I don’t understand–”

 

“You will,” he said softly, stroking her hair.

 

He was so weak.  His terrible weakness was the reason he would murder his Pharaoh, spit in the faces of the Gods, and betray the only woman he had ever loved as a friend and as a sister.  Imhotep cursed himself, but he knew it would do no good.  He could not live without Anck-su-namun.

 

“Remember what I have said, for it will be my legacy.”  He removed his arms from the princess, and she cried out softly.

 

“Do not leave me, Imhotep.”

 

“I must.  Goodbye, my princess.  May you find happiness in your honor, your goodness, and the deep love in your heart.”

 

And Nefertiri, princess of Egypt, watched Imhotep walk out of the Pharaoh’s throne room for the final time.

 

***

 

Evy sat down abruptly on another red velvet chair, the emotions contained in the memory flooding her being.  A tear slid down her face and she wiped it away impatiently.  “You were so good, so pure, Imhotep.  Why did you abandon everything that was good in your life?”

 

A sad smile flickered across Imhotep’s face.  “You think I have not questioned the path my life has taken?  But I cannot take anything back.  The past is done.  I can only live with the consequences of my actions.”

 

“But if you could do it over, if you could take something back–”

 

“I can’t.  And I don’t know.  There are no answers, Nefertiri.”

 

Evy’s glistening eyes met his in sudden understanding, in the understanding of two souls whose lives have been so woven together they have practically become pieces of the same cloth.  Evy and Imhotep were on opposite sides of this war.  But they were tied together, bound in lifetime after lifetime.  The gleaming side of the coin is still eternally bound to its dark twin...

 

“You’re right, Imhotep,” Evy admitted, wiping her hand across her damp face.  “There are only choices.”

 

“And if I could not come to terms with my choices, I would go mad.”  Imhotep looked down, masking part of his face in the shadows.

 

“What do you mean?” Evy asked, with a sudden inkling of what he meant.  A tiny seed of fear stole through her.

 

He met her eyes.  “I mean that I must make a choice now, Princess.  There are two beings in me–the unholy Creature and the holy man that I was.  I must choose.”

 

When Evy would speak Imhotep made a sharp downward movement with his hand to silence her.  He rose from his chair.  “Leave me, Nefertiri.  I must think.”

 

He paused, and Evy noticed the grim set of his jawline.  “There are some roads that a man–” he gave a short, harsh laugh.  “A creature–must travel alone.”

 

“What road, Imhotep?” Evy asked fearfully.

 

He met her eyes.  “The road to becoming.”

 

Evy swallowed as she understood his meaning.  “And what will you choose to become?”

 

Imhotep turned his face away.  “The evil in me is powerful...it grows every day.  If I do not accept it as part of me it will drive me mad.  I cannot live that way.”

 

Evy exhaled slowly, all of the pieces suddenly fitting together.   “So you must fully embrace the evil part of your soul.”  She gasped as a new thought struck her.  “And in so doing you will tie your soul to the underworld and belong to Anubis forever.”

 

“I am a part of the jackal-headed God.  He will protect his own.”

 

“But to choose to belong to him–” Evy began.

 

Imhotep interrupted.  His eyes, round and luminous, met hers, and for that searing moment Evy she saw no evil in him.  His voice was full of hopelessness and frustration.  “I did not choose to become what I am!  Your friends, the Med Jai, created me, forged me as though I were made of clay!  They cursed my soul and formed the evil within me!”

 

He took a step away from her, breathing heavily, his eyes wet and tortured.  “But they left part of my humanity intact.  If they had stripped everything away and made me completely evil, I could have lived.  But they left me with my soul.  The Hom-Dai is a double curse indeed.”

 

He took a deep breath and exhaled, struggling with his emotions.  His voice was softer, and desperation had replaced the anger in his words.  “Nefertiri, you must believe me.  I would give everything to give up the power of the Hom-Dai.  I would give everything not to have it within me!  It, it eats away at me.”  Imhotep sagged, exhausted.  “I would have given anything for a normal death.  Anything they asked.”

 

He closed his eyes.  When he opened them again they glistened with sorrow, but ultimately with acceptance.  “I am the Creature now.  I was given power to rule this earth.  And I will fulfill my destiny.”

 

Silence filled the library and Evy could hear the beating of her own heart.  She now felt nothing for Imhotep but pity.  The anger was gone, replaced with compassion.  He had asked neither for the power nor for the suffering of the Hom-Dai.  It had been given him, and he had been forced to live with the consequences.

 

“Ah, Imhotep,” Evy whispered.  “You cannot help what you are.” 

 

She no longer hated him.  She knew that, someday, he would fall.  The Gods would not allow him to rule the earth forever.  They had given him power, but they would eventually strip it away.  And all that was left in her heart was a profound sadness that Imhotep, who had been so good, had been turned into something so evil.

 

Evy felt tears brimming in her eyes.  She wanted so badly to help him–and yet the very reasons she empathized with him were the very reasons he must be destroyed.

 

Without another word Evy turned and walked away.

 

***

 

Consumed by her private thoughts, Evy walked across the throne room, her cheeks damp.  She was heading to find Alex in their rooms, but her mind whirled with disparate emotions.  She empathized with Imhotep, yet wanted him destroyed.  They had been friends and confidants, yet now they were enemies.

 

There are no answers.  Only choices.

 

“Nefertiri!  Have you seen Imhotep?” Anck-su-namun’s voice broke into Evy’s thoughts.

 

Evy looked up abruptly, seeing the queen come walking briskly towards her across the grand throne room.  Anck-su-namun hurried to Evy’s side, wringing her hands.  “I heard he had returned from the Americas, but he has not yet been to see me.  Is he back?”  The queen looked expectantly at Evy.

 

Evy hesitated, not wanting to cause her pain, but decided to be honest.  “Yes, I just saw him, in the library.”

 

Anck-su-namun’s eyes fell to the floor.  She swallowed and exhaled softly.  “He used to come to me immediately.  As soon as he came home he would run into my arms–” she bit her lip.  “I don’t know what has happened to us.”

 

Evy swallowed.  She did not want to be stuck between these two–the Pharaoh and his queen, the priest and the concubine.  Her place was not there.  And she could not bear to tell Anck-su-namun the one thing that would destroy her: Imhotep was not the man she loved.  He was himself trapped in a body of an evil monster.  And he was about to fully accept that evil.

 

Evy looked down, unwilling to respond.

 

But Anck-su-namun knew.  Evy started, realizing that Anck-su-namun had probably known for some time, in her heart.

 

“He has been changed by the evil within him.”  The queen looked down, and Evy could see the glisten of tears in her eyes.  “And I don’t know how to help him anymore.”

 

There was nothing for Evy to say.  There was no way to save him or help him any longer.  He had long ago crossed that line.

 

Evy wondered if Anck-su-namun understood.

 

Imhotep had gone too far.  He could not be saved, not in this incarnation.  Not in this lifetime.  Not in this world.

 

If the earth was to be saved, Imhotep had to go.

 

 

***