Chapter Thirty-One: It All Ends Here

 

 

***

 

Evy never remembered running so hard in all her life.  And the trip from Imhotep’s chambers to his throne room had never seemed so impossibly, achingly, unbelievably long.

 

Her feet pounded on the marble of the ornate hallways as she ran, clutching the book awkwardly in her arms.  She rounded a corner and slipped, bumping into the wall.  The book jiggled in her arms and Evy looked down at it.  Was it her imagination or was the book gleaming...glowing in the light?

 

She looked down as she ran, examining it more closely, and a shiver of dread ran through her spine.  The gold cover was not reflecting the torchlight any more.

 

The book was glowing from within.  Evy slowed for the briefest of moments, looking down in wonder at it.  It glowed softly, seductively...and Evy suddenly understood that the book was ready to be used.

 

The black book of the Dead had started the cycle.

 

It was time for the book of Amun-Ra to complete it.

 

Evy gasped as she suddenly realized just how elaborately their destiny had been planned.  Every person, every object had a role to fulfill.  Evy took a deep breath and began running again, the sounds of her heavy breathing echoing in the empty hallways.

 

The book glowed in Evy’s arms, ready to fulfill its destiny.

 

 

***

 

 

Ardeth dodged a swipe at his head, the attacking soldier mummy gnashing its teeth nastily as it missed injuring the Med Jai Chieftain.  Quickly side-stepping another lancing blow, Ardeth ducked behind a marble column, gasping for breath.  He had not fought like this in over two years, and his strength was fading.  His chest burned from lack of air and sweat poured down his face.  His damp hair stuck to his clammy skin.

 

Ardeth wiped the back of his hand over his face, removing some of the sweat from his eyes.  He looked for O’Connell, so see how he was faring against Imhotep.  As his eyes found Rick across the massive room, Ardeth’s heart plummeted.

 

Rick lay on the marble floor, practically motionless.  Imhotep was standing over him.  Ardeth squinted frantically, looking for any sign of a wound.  No, Rick looked to be basically unhurt.

 

A savage growl interrupted Ardeth’s thoughts as a soldier mummy appeared before him, its black teeth glinting hideously in anticipation of killing a Med Jai.  Ardeth had no more time to think.  He drew his blade, reacting and beating back the creature with nothing but pure instinct.

 

He stole one last glance over at Adil, who looked to be almost done.  The young man was gasping and backing up, just barely defending himself from the savage blows the other two soldier mummies dealt him.

 

Ardeth looked up as the one-armed mummy who he had injured earlier returned for more.  He managed to parry the blows, the muscles in his arms aching from the effort.  He truly did not know how much longer he could last.  He and Adil each had two beasts to fight, and the creatures just weren’t dying fast enough.

 

Suddenly the head of the mummy nearest him exploded in a shower of black goo.  The beast’s headless body stumbled, groaned, and collapsed.  “Take that, you sons of bitches!” the man yelled, his battle cry echoing in the great throne room.

 

In shocked relief Ardeth turned to see who had come to his aid.

 

Pierre grinned at the Med Jai chieftain, brandishing the blade in his hands.

 

“Thank you, my friend,” Ardeth said, a slight smile playing across his exhausted face.  One of the mummies fighting Adil turned in anger towards Pierre, screeching in futile fury at the death of its decayed friend.

 

“Come and get me,” Pierre called out, taunting the mummy.   He held his blade in ready stance.  “See what happens.”  The creature responded in kind, swinging its blade through the air as it made its way over to battle the Frenchman.

 

Adil sighed in relief and met Ardeth’s eyes.  Now each man had only one beast to fight.  The tide of battle had turned.

 

They continued fighting methodically, but Ardeth knew that time was running out.  Where were Evy and Jonathan? Ardeth wondered frantically.  Although they were now on the way to beating the mummies, that was not the real battle.  Imhotep had to be made mortal. 

 

And, with a quick glance over his shoulder, it looked like O’Connell was not going to last much longer.

 

 

***

 

Imhotep picked Rick up by the collar, holding him several feet above the floor.  The priest stared impassively into his face.

 

Rick gasped, clawing at Imhotep’s superhuman hands now wrapped tightly about his neck.  This couldn’t be the end.  It just couldn’t.  He had to see Evy one last time...he had to save her...

 

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, Med Jai.”  Imhotep’s harsh voice broke into Rick’s mind.  Imhotep shook his head, making a tsk tsk sound.  “But you just had to challenge me, didn’t you?”

 

He searched Rick’s face for an answer, but Rick was desperately trying to stay alive, choking and holding his neck.

 

“You know, Menmet, that I never wanted us to be enemies.  You chose to hate me and stalk me through lifetime after lifetime.”  Imhotep held him effortlessly, Rick’s legs dangling helplessly in the air.

 

Rick grimaced, gasping, getting a little bit of air into his burning lungs.  “You betrayed...” Rick’s chest heaved.  “Everyone.”

 

Imhotep’s face darkened.  “The Med Jai will write their own history, it seems.  I care no longer.  It is time for you to die.”

 

Rick’s eyes widened as Imhotep opened his mouth, preparing to swallow Rick and suck in his flesh.

 

 

***

 

 

“Alex?”

 

The words flew out of Jonathan’s mouth before he could think.  He frantically scanned the gloomy room.  “Alex?”

 

Suddenly a head popped up from behind a table.  A blond head.  Two blue eyes stared back at him, fearful and hopeful and determined.  Jonathan felt his heart skip a beat.

 

He had his father’s eyes.

 

The eyes were achingly familiar...and yet, some part of them were the eyes of a stranger.  His nephew was no longer an eight year old boy.  He was nearly an adolescent.  He had sprouted a good three inches in the last two years.

 

“Alex,” Jonathan got out, his eyes taking in the sight of this child.  He had known him well, once.  They had been friends, buddies, they had hung out and gone to the park and seen movies together.  How much had he changed?  How had Alex grown up, trapped as he was in Imhotep’s palace?  A thousand questions and emotions ran through Jonathan’s mind as the pale blue eyes stared back at him.

 

But all he said was one single, simple phrase.  Unplanned, the words spilled out of his mouth, low, barely audible.  “You look so much like your father.”

 

Without another word Alex flew across the room and into Jonathan’s arms.  Jonathan found himself on his knees, his arms wrapped around the body of a growing boy.  He felt bigger, stronger, older, and Jonathan marveled at how Alex’s body fit against his own differently now.

 

But then Alex looked up, his shining face bursting with happiness, his blond hair flopped across his brow, and Jonathan knew that Alex had not changed.  He might be older and bigger and more mature, but he was the same person, the same sweet, smart, mischievous child he had known.

 

“I’ve missed you, Uncle Jon,” he said, looking up at Jonathan.

 

“I say, I’ve missed you my boy!” Jonathan exclaimed, grasping Alex’s narrow shoulders to get a better look at him.

 

“Do I really look like dad?”

 

The plaintative question hit Jonathan between the eyes.  He had been thinking this entire time of his own feelings towards Alex.  He had forgotten how much Alex had missed his father, how much Rick must have ached for his son.  Jonathan swallowed.  “Of course,” he whispered.

 

Alex beamed, and Jonathan thought his heart might break.  Life had been unfair to them.  Sure, they had been lucky in many ways.  But life had been cruel, too.  They had had more than their fair share of misery.  Jonathan patted Alex’s blond hair, remembering a time, in England, long ago–Alex had been five, or maybe six–when all four of them had sat in the manor, at Christmas, watching the snow falling outside...

 

“Is dad here with you?” Alex’s hopeful voice broke into Jonathan’s thoughts.

 

Jonathan grinned.  “He sure is.  He came with Ardeth and the Med Jai to rescue you.”

 

“Just like at Ahm Shere?”

 

Jonathan forced away the lump in his throat.  “Just like at Ahm Shere.”

 

Alex smiled and nodded, standing and pulling Jonathan to his feet.  “So what are we waiting for?  Let’s go help dad!”

 

“Whoa there,” Jonathan said as Alex pulled him towards the door.  “We have a different assignment, old boy.  Your dad wants us to go find your mum and get the gold book.”

Alex looked seriously at his uncle.  “Imhotep keeps the book in his chambers.”

 

Jonathan met his eyes.  “Is that where your mum went?”

 

Alex let out a deep breath.  “I dunno...she didn’t say.  But knowing her...”

 

Jonathan nodded.  “Do you remember, Alex, how your mum fought Anck-su-namun in the pyramid?”

 

Alex nodded, and Jonathan continued.  “I think that might happen again, right now.  Over the Book of Amun-Ra.”

 

Alex’s eyes widened.  He didn’t need to be told twice what that meant.  “Let’s go!”

 

Without another word they burst into the hallway and began running down the corridor.  Jonathan followed as Alex led them to the largest golden doors at the end of the hall.  He could feel the key as he ran, heavy in his pocket.

 

 

***

 

 

Anjelica had made her way into the palace and up the marble stairs.  The battle on the sands between the Med Jai and the army of Anubis was raging on.  But Anjelica somehow knew in her gut that her place was here, in the palace.  What her role was she still had no idea.  She prayed that she would be of some use in defeating Imhotep.

 

She crouched in the stairwell doorway, listening carefully.  She heard echoes of swords and angry voices, but she couldn’t make them out.

 

Her fingers brushed over the blood drying on her shirt, crusting in the cool air.  Hubert’s blood.  She looked down at her hand and saw blood drying on her skin as well.  She did not know what she was going to do, or how she would help.  But she had to make up for Hubert’s death.  Somehow she had to atone for everything by being here, by facing Imhotep herself.

 

Her ears pricked as she suddenly recognized Rick’s voice.  A shiver went down her spine when she realized the other voice must be Imhotep’s.  It was cold and cruel.  Soulless.  A voice of death.

 

Straining her ears over the sounds of pounding feet, clashing swords, and inhuman growls she made out the distinctive, french-accent laden voice of Pierre, and what she thought might be Ardeth’s voice.  Other than that, she had no idea.

 

She inched forward, creeping carefully along the darkened corridor.  As she walked the sounds, echoing in the huge marble throne room, grew louder.  She slowly approached the door on the side of the grand hall and stopped, folding her body into the shadows.  She looked, quickly taking in the scene before her.

 

Out of pure instinct she reached down and touched the hilt of her scimitar, which hung at her side.  She didn’t know what her role was.  But when it was her turn to act, she would.

 

If death was her fate she would accept it.  But she would go down fighting.

 

Anjelica waited for a sign from destiny.

 

 

***

 

 

Jonathan and Alex burst into Imhotep’s huge bedroom, the golden doors banging and echoing as they searched for Evy.  Nothing.  The chamber was empty.

 

Jonathan felt himself panicking.  There was no sign of Evy, Anck-su-namun, or the Gold Book.  “What do we do, what do we do, what do we do,” Jonathan muttered frantically as he strode around the room, looking for any sign of life.  They couldn’t lose now, not when they were so close!

 

“She’ll just go find dad, uncle Jon,” Alex said, tugging at Jonathan’s shirt.  “Let’s go!”

 

Thank goodness for clear headed thinking, Jonathan reflected as they darted out of the room.  He hesitated, looking back down the hallway he had come.  They had no choice.  Rick and Ardeth were in the throne room with Imhotep.  The conclusion to this battle would be there, and in his gut Jonathan knew that’s where Evy would be, too.

 

They doubled back and kept going.

 

 

***

 

 

Evy turned the final corner to the throne room and came running in at full speed.  Banging open one of the golden doors she came skidding to a halt.  All the way down the throne room, at the other end, was Imhotep.  With a choking Rick in his grasp.

 

Her heart leapt through her throat at seeing him again, the person she loved most in the world.

 

“Rick!” she screamed, almost dropping the Book of the Living.  The gold metal stuck to her clammy skin, unwilling to leave the arms of the Princess to whom it was bound...

 

Evy!  Rick’s mind screamed out in response, although he could not utter a sound.  God, she looked beautiful, powerful...regal.  His heart twisted and flopped inside his chest.  He had missed her more than he had ever thought possible.

 

Imhotep’s concentration broken, his mouth closed.  Turning and seeing the gold book, his hands loosened from their grip Rick’s neck.  “The Book of Amun-Ra,” he murmured to himself.

 

Rick plummeted to the ground.  His beat up body slammed heavily into the marble.  “Ooof,” he groaned, curling into a fetal position, his hands on his burning throat.  His eyes watered and his head throbbed.

 

Imhotep took a few steps towards Evy, who was still all of the way across the room.  “Princess,” he called out.  “You can do nothing with that book without the key.”

 

Where was Jonathan? Rick thought, groaning on the floor and rubbing his sore neck.

 

 

***

 

 

Evy hesitated, taking a small step forward, her arms wrapped around the Book of the Living.  She searched her mind frantically for ideas, but her plan had progressed no further than obtaining the book.  She had no way of opening it.  What was she going to do?

 

And then...she could not explain it.  It was almost as though time itself slowed...she could hear herself breathe in the massive throne room, the sound of her breath echoing in the air...

 

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again her vision had blurred.  The room seemed to shimmer around her...it was as though her entire body was ringed in a fierce light.  She could not see, she squinted but she could not see...And then it seemed that Imhotep stood before her, as they had stood together three millennia ago in the throne room of her father, when they had been not enemies but friends...

 

She blinked and the rest of the room disappeared, the very walls fading away and the world glimmering around them...there were stars before her eyes...Why, how was it that there was sand beneath her feet?  Were they standing in the desert?  But she could swear that she also stood on the most beautiful marble floor, cold against her skin.  She looked up and hardly knew if she looked at a vaulted ceiling of gold or at walls made of sunlight and shadow...

 

And then Evy would have sworn that they stood in the palace of the old days, in her father’s throne room, and Imhotep stood, bronzed, tall, blessing her...or was his hand made of doom and fire?  Why, she could hardly tell if it was the old, holy Imhotep or the dark, cursed Imhotep, she hardly knew whether he was clad in the robes of a priest or the robes of a Pharaoh...Why, she hardly knew who he was, she could not see his features, his face was cast in shadows, all in shadows...

 

Evy felt the very fabric of time shiver and tremble around her.  And then she understood, that if she wished, time would twist, and turn on itself, and she and Imhotep could emerge from her father’s throne room that day as though the past three thousand years had never been.

 

She knew that their destiny, past and future, was in his hands.  If Imhotep could feel pain, if he could touch the human side of himself one last time...if he could admit, after all of these years, that he felt regret and remorse for killing her father...Then Imhotep would not kill Seti, and he and Anck-su-namun would run from the palace...Nefertiri would have Menmet for many years longer while her father lived...and the Med Jai would not curse Imhotep’s soul, creating the monster who would kill and ruin so many lives...

 

It seemed the entire world waited for what Imhotep would do.  “Imhotep,” she whispered, “do you remember?”

 

She hardly knew if his face was shining or dark, if he laughed or wept, his features were hidden in shadow, all in shadow...

 

“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.”  Imhotep’s own words, spoken three millennia past, echoed in the great hall.

 

But from far away it seemed as though she heard his voice, speaking to her...she heard his call...

 

“I am the Creature.  That is my destiny, to be a plague over this bleeding earth.”

 

The world glimmered before her.  She looked for him, but she could not see him...“No, Imhotep, you swore to me that your remorse was to be your legacy...” Evy heard her voice–or was it Nefertiri’s lilting dialect?–softly whisper to him...and suddenly, as she spoke, she wondered what language they were speaking.

 

The magical shimmering world around them twisted and shivered, and Evy knew not what she saw...the world seemed poised, waiting for what Imhotep would say.  Evy hardly knew whether it was Imhotep any longer, or was it his soul, glittering and silvery blue before her, shimmering before her eyes...was that why she could not see his face?

 

“I regret nothing.  I am in the clutches of Anubis now.  My dark soul belongs to the master of the underworld...”

 

And his response was the judgment of the Gods.  They could not go back to the beginning.  The very fabric of time rippled and quivered and the weight of years fell.

 

Evy blinked and the magical world was gone.  She was back in Imhotep’s throne room, an exact replica of the one standing three millennia ago.  Imhotep no longer stood near her, his body glimmering with light.  The air no longer shimmered around them, shadows no longer concealed their faces, and Evy wondered when she had ever thought that it could be a thing of power.

 

Imhotep still stood, across the throne room, staring at her, and Evy knew that he had seen the same dream-like vision she had.  For those few seconds they measured each other, their eyes locked, and Evy knew that three thousand years had led them up to this point.

 

There was no going back.

 

It would all end here.

 

 

***

 

Whoo-hoo!  Only three chaps left!  There’s gonna be a major smack down coming...hehe...stay tuned!

 

A/N: The scene in Seti’s throne room three millennia ago between Nefertiri and Imhotep that Evy remembers at the end of this chapter takes place in chapter 25, if anyone wants to go back and check it out ;-)

 

A/N part deux: The idea of time twisting and turning on itself I owe entirely to Marion Zimmer Bradley, who uses the concept in her beautiful novel The Mists of Avalon, although in a different context.  The line “the weight of years fell” was taken directly from the novel.