Lost Souls 

By Karri

 

Summary: Settled comfortable back in London following TMR, Evy finds a book...and, of course, much trouble ensues.  

 

Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money is being made.  The Mummy Returns and its characters are the property of Steven Sommers and Universal Studios. The original characters, tribes, situations, legends, and curses are the property of the author.  Please don't borrow them without asking.  Special Thanks to Deana for her encouragement and suggestions

 

Things people seem to like to know ahead of time: it's Ardeth hurt/comfort, which includes all of the O'Connells (and Jonathan.)  It doesn't include Immy or Anck - apologies to their fans.  There are several original characters (BOO HISS!), including one in the very first chapter.  =-O  However, any and all Mary Sues are purely unintentional. Also, I've juggled more characters in this than I usually attempt, so if I lose anyone (usually Jonathan or Alex), apologies. I always find them, eventually.  ;-)  Oh, and, this is my first solo Mummy story - so be warned.  :-J

 

One last note:  Generally speaking, the Arabic is written only when the conversation is switching back and forth between languages, not when the entire conversation is Arabic.  Apologies to any Arabic speakers for my slaughtering of the beautiful language. 

 

Okay, all done.  To any who are still here, happy reading!  :D

 

 

oOoOoOo

 

Waking with a start, Ardeth stared into the darkness, unable to remember where he was.  Nothing felt right.  The bed beneath him was too soft.  The air around him was too heavy.  None of the usual sounds reached his ears.  He was not in Egypt.  Ardeth felt certain of that.  He also felt that there was something important he was supposed to be doing there….wherever he was.   The edges of his brain twitched with the urgency of this important thing, yet the memory of it remained just out of reach.

 

Frustrated, Ardeth shifted to rise, sending pain surging through his body. He sagged back onto the mattress, gulping for the air agony had ripped from his lungs.  Slowly, as he forced himself to keep his attempts at breathing slow and even, the wave of intense pain ebbed away, leaving a duller ache in its place.  With several more deep breaths, Ardeth found he could once again think about more than simply getting air.  He also realized that the sudden onslaught of pain had brought the elusive memories within reach. 

 

He was in England, at the home of the O’Connells.   His task had been simple – retrieve the artifacts before blood could be split with them.  He had failed.  Not only had he failed, he had somehow provoked the very thing he was there to prevent and, in the process, offended his friends.  Ardeth sighed.   He knew that he must attempt to remedy the situation, although uncertain that it would be enough to redeem him in the O’Connells’ eyes.  Still, honor and friendship demanded that he make the effort.   Ardeth sighed, again.  It wasn’t going to be easy to force his body to comply with the demand.

 

Taking a couple more deep breaths to prepare, Ardeth bit his lip and pulled himself up to a sitting position.  The inflamed muscles of his abdominal wound screamed in greater protest than he’d expected, forcing him to pause for another breath.  As he rested, he registered the slight stirring of a small form next to him.  His eyes had adjusted to dim light enough to trace the child’s outline as Alex settled again without waking.  The Medjai stifled another sigh.  It had been one thing to force himself out of the bed, but now he must do so carefully.    

 

Biting his lip again, Ardeth resisted the temptation to quickly swing his legs over the edge, fearing it might bounce the bed.  Instead, he moved slowing and gently, straining his abdominal muscles.  Tightly clasping the bed sheets tightly, the Medjai managed to touch his feet to the ground without significantly jostling the mattress.  Stifling a hiss, he slowly stood, almost.  His protesting muscles and spinning head refused to allow him to straighten fully, but it was enough.  Taking a couple shaky steps toward the bottom of the bed, Ardeth snatched up his sash.   Pulling his robe closed, he carefully, but painfully, secured it, feeling better that he was, once again, properly attired.   Trembling from the exertion, Ardeth clung to the bedpost for a minute, before willing his legs to move him away from the bed.

 

After what seemed an eternity, the Medjai found himself resting weakly against the wall.  He’d pushed the cracked door open enough to slip through, once he’d caught his breath.  In the light seeping in from the hallway, Ardeth could see Alex sleeping soundly and almost managed a smile.  Having failed so miserably in his journey thus far, he found some measure of satisfaction in having been successful at not waking the child. Keeping an eye on Alex, Ardeth slipped out of the room.

 

Much to his immense frustration, the Medjai found it necessarily to pause again just outside the room.  Down the hall, he heard a clock chime four and realized the sun would rise in a few short hours.   At the rate he was moving, Ardeth feared the entire household would be up and about before he’d made it to the stairs.   He could not continue to rest every few feet.   Frustration turned to irritation, and Ardeth set his jaw and stood up straight as he pulled away from the wall.   His head spun, his ribs ached, his wounds throbbed and his stomach churned, but the warrior refused to acknowledge any of it.  Berating himself for each wobbly step, he determinedly made his way toward the stairs.   

 

Every foot traveled made it harder to ignore his body’s distress.    After less than a dozen steps, the spinning in his head had increased enough that Ardeth found it necessary to lean his wounded shoulder against the wall as he walked.   The pressure sent pain throbbing through his collarbone, into his chest, and down his arm, all the way through to his fingertips, but Ardeth forced himself to continue.  He had to find the dagger before the others awoke.  

 

“Ardeth, old boy, you really think it’s a good idea to be taking a stroll in the shape your in?”

 

The Medjai started at the unexpected sound of Jonathan’s voice.   The sudden movement laid the final straw, and Ardeth’s knees buckled as blackness enveloped the world around him.   Flattening his back against the wall as leverage against the darkness, he managed, barely, to stay upright. 

 

“There now, see, that’s exactly my point,” Jonathan quipped, lunging forward to steady the Medjai as Ardeth limply sagged against wall.

 

Jonathan’s voice seemed far away, muffled by the thick fog in Ardeth’s head, and the Medjai made no attempt to respond to it.  Not that he could have, even if he’d wanted to.  It required all his concentration to remain slumped against the wall, instead of collapsing onto the floor. 

 

“Come on.  Let’s get you back to bed, shall we?”  Jonathan suggested, shifting around to tuck a shoulder beneath Ardeth’s arm.  It surprised him, more than a little, to feel the Medjai resist.

 

“No…I…must…have…to…,”  Ardeth struggled to form a coherent sentence.  Pausing, he took several slow breaths to force the darkness away.  As it faded, his knees steadied enough that he could spare a little attention to focus his thoughts.  As infuriating as it was, the Medjai realized his body simply wasn’t going to cooperate with him.  He would have to ask Jonathan for help.  Reluctant, Ardeth took a deep, painful breath. 

 

“Jonathan, I need your assistance.”

 

“Of course you need some help, chap.  The shape you’re in….it’s a wonder you made it out here in the first place.  But don’t you worry, we’ll have you back to bed in no time.”

 

“You misunderstand,” Ardeth explained, again resisting the man’s attempts to move him.  His voice growing weaker by the word, the Medjai worried he wouldn’t be able to convince Jonathan to help him.  “I do not wish to return to bed…”

 

“I’m sorry to be the one to let you in on this, Ardeth, but you’re really in no condition to be anywhere else,” Jonathan interrupted, stating the obvious very matter-of-factly.  The Medjai responded with the look indicating his acute awareness of his present state, ‘thank you very much, Jonathan.’  Letting his glance wearily fall back to the floor, Ardeth sighed.

 

“I cannot return to bed,” the Medjai clarified.  “I came to England on an errand that has been too long delayed already.”

 

“Ah, yes.  I was afraid of that,” Jonathan groused.  “Now, I suppose, you’re going to explain how you’ve managed to let that bloody Mummy get loose again.  Really, I say, old chap, you do a damned poor job of guarding the bugger.” 

 

Ardeth winced, the comment furthering wounding his already battered honor.  Rationally, he understood that the Englishman hadn’t really intended his words as an insult.  However, the Medjai suspected they were a truer reflection of how the man really felt than, perhaps, even Jonathan, himself, realized.

 

“My business does not concern the creature,” Ardeth answered, sighing. 

 

“Oh, well then….,” Jonathan let the sentence trail off, feeling like a bit of a heel.    Releasing his hold on the Medjai, he moved into the center of the hallway.   Fidgeting uncomfortably, Jonathan paced back and forth a couple of steps as he waited for Ardeth to provide more details. 

 

“I was sent to retrieve the cursed weapons of the Devourer.”

 

“Devourer, eh.  He doesn’t sound like a very pleasant fellow.  He isn’t hot on your heels, by chance, is he?” Jonathan inquired nervously, reflexively glancing around. 

 

“No.  He is long dead,” Ardeth informed him.  Despite his general state of misery, the Medjai couldn’t help but smile at the man’s skittishness.  He gave his head a small shake, wishing again he could force his body to do what was needed.  He did not relish the idea of resting all his eggs in Jonathan’s basket.

 

“Oh, good….good…excellent,”  Jonathan muttered, the relief obvious his voice.   “So what makes these weapons important enough to warrant Medjai protection.”

 

His head growing heavy, Ardeth didn’t bother to look at Jonathan.  He simply ignored, with resignation, the implied accusation that it had been some sort of failure on the part of the Medjai that had brought the warrior to England again.  He could do little about Jonathan’s opinion of him and his people, for the moment. 

 

“These artifacts are not under the protection of the Medjai,” the warrior explained, no longer able to muster more than a loud whisper.  He paused to focus his dwindling strength.  The conversation was taking longer than he’d hoped. 

 

“Then, who…,” Jonathan began curiously, but Ardeth impatiently cut him off.

 

“It matters not whose guards them, only that they did not wish to alarm the O’Connells and, so, asked me to retrieve the artifacts,” the warrior explained.  A humorless chuckle escaped his lips as he considered the poor outcome of that decision.  

 

“These ‘cursed weapons of the Devourer’ are dangerous, I take it?”  Jonathan asked.  “You know, ‘wipe out the world’ sort of stuff?”

 

Ardeth shook his head slightly.  The amount of dizziness that resulted caught him by surprise.  Inhaling sharply, as his stomach churned angrily, the Medjai squeezed his eyes shut and prayed he could manage to neither topple over nor vomit. 

 

“Whoa, you all right there,” Jonathan asked, anxiously, seeing the warrior list a bit to the left.  Reaching a hand out to steady him, Jonathan realized too late that he’d chosen the wrong shoulder to grab.  As the Medjai grimaced and a barely audible groan escaped his lips, Jonathan quickly pulled his hand away.  “Ooh, sorry…didn’t mean…” 

 

Ardeth waved away the apology.  “It is not the world that is at risk.  It is a single soul.”

 

“Oh, well, hardly worth killing yourself over then, eh,” Jonathan quipped, but grew serious as the Medjai frowned, disapprovingly.  “Pretty important, is it….this single soul?

 

“It is,” Ardeth stated, simply.  He was beginning to suspect he would have accomplished his task faster on his own, after all, and with less energy expended.  Ardeth took a slow, shaky breath.  It was well past time to get to the point.  “I need you to help me find the dagger.”

 

“Dagger?”

 

“Yes, the dagger I was stabbed with.   It is one of the artifacts.  The sword, in the crate downstairs, is the other.  I must have them both,” Ardeth explained.  

 

“Oh well, that’s simple enough,” Jonathan replied, eagerly.  Drawing on what little strength remained, Ardeth glanced up, frowning, uncertain how to take the Englishman’s response.  Seeing the Medjai’s expression, Jonathan elaborated.  “I saw it earlier.  I’ll wager it hasn’t gone anywhere since.  Wait right there!  It’ll just take me a second to grab it.”

 

Ardeth nodded, carefully, and let his head droop again.  Hearing Jonathan scamper away, he sighed.  It seemed too much to hope for that it could be that easy, but then again, possessing the dagger was only the start of a long journey.  Ardeth had no doubt there would be much that was difficult before he reached his destination.

 

Relieved, Jonathan nearly skipped to the approximate area he remembered seeing the dagger.  He’d assumed Ardeth would require him to do something that would risk life and limb or, at the very least, the displeasure of Rick and Evy.  Instead, all he had to do was pick a bloody dagger up off the carpet and return with it.  Simple.  Then, he sincerely hoped, the warrior would agree to go back to bed.  By the looks of him, it amazed Jonathan that Ardeth managed to remain upright.  It seemed impossible he could keep it up much longer.  The idea of having to lug an unconscious Medjai back to bed by himself was only slightly more appealing the thought of waking Rick and admitting he’d allowed the injured man to dawdle in the hallway until he passed out.  

 

“There you are,” Jonathan muttered under his breath, spotting the dagger and grabbing it.  As he pivoted around to return, it occurred to him it might be unpleasant for the Ardeth to see his own blood all over the blasted thing.  Stooping down, Jonathan scrubbed it against the carpet, managing to rub away most of the dried blood.  “Well, I suppose that’ll have to do.” 

 

Absent-mindedly flaking away more blood as he wandered back, Jonathan studied the weapon.  It was certainly well crafted, and probably worth a pretty penny to any respectable weapon’s dealer, but it didn’t look like anything worth getting excited.  It certainly didn’t look cursed, but then what would a cursed dagger look like, he pondered.  

 

“Here we are,” Jonathan shouted, wincing at his own voice, as it came out louder than intended.  Ardeth also flinched, weakly lifting his gaze.  Jonathan noticed how pale and taut the warrior’s features were and, once again, hoped the matter would be settled enough that Ardeth would return to bed.  “One dagger, delivered as promised.  Now lets get you back to bed, shall we?”

 

“Thank you, Jonathan,” Ardeth replied, his appreciation sincere.  Taking the dagger, he turned toward the staircase, before Jonathan had a chance to tuck a shoulder under his good arm.  Resting his head against the wall, the Medjai forced his feet to move.  Too exhausted to think anymore about the pain flaring out from his shoulder, Ardeth focused his quickly dwindling strength into his effort to reach the stairs. 

 

“Whoa!  Hold on a minute.  What are you up to now?!”  Jonathan exclaimed, as Ardeth trudged weakly away from him.

 

“Must…get…to…the…Abadi…before…it…is…too…late,” Ardeth slowly explained, having very little energy or attention to spare for speaking. 

 

“The who?  Too late for what?  To save the single soul?”  Jonathan quizzed, taking the couple of steps necessary to catch up to the warrior.  Reaching out, he gently grabbed the Medjai’s arm.   Too weak to pull away, Ardeth stopped, flattened his back against the wall, and slowly slid to the floor, his strength exhausted.  Jonathan sat down next to him. 

 

“Yes, to save the soul, but I do not know how, and there is little time to learn,” Ardeth explained, in a weak whisper. Closing his eyes, he let his head drop back to rest against the wall.  “The Abadi are the guardians of the curse.  I pray that they can tell me.”

 

“If these Abadi are the guardians of the curse, why don’t you just let them deal with it,” Jonathan reasoned.

 

“It is my responsibility,” Ardeth whispered, remorsefully. 

 

“Your responsibility…?”  Jonathan’s brow wrinkled as he struggled to piece together the jumble of information. 

 

“Yes.  I provoked the use of the weapon; I am honor bound to find a way to….”

 

“To save the single soul,” Jonathan finished for him, beginning to catch on to things.  Ardeth nodded, very slightly.  “I don’t mean to be difficult, Ardeth, but the only thing you’re going to find on your own is the floor.   You’re sure this single soul is important enough to kill yourself trying to save?”

 

Although effort required seemed Herculean, Ardeth managed to pull his head up and pin Jonathan under an intensely serious stare.   “The soul is Evelyn’s.”

 

Shocked speechless, Jonathan simply stared at the Medjai. 

 

 “You see now why I must go,” Ardeth stated, in a weak whisper, his head dropping back again.   Jonathan numbly shook his head.

 

“I don’t understand what this has to do with Evy?”

 

Ardeth sighed.  He hadn’t considered that Jonathan might not be aware of what had occurred earlier.  “It was Evelyn that wielded the weapon.” 

 

Jonathan’s brow wrinkled as he stared at the Medjai, unable to believe what he was hearing.

 

 “What?!  Why?!  No, scratch that!  Doesn’t matter!”  He sputtered.  “What exactly is this curse?”

 

“There is not time…,”  Ardeth mumbled.  He could feel himself drifting toward sleep and forced his head up again.  “I must go before they awaken.”

 

“Who? Oh, you mean Rick and Evy.  Why…” Jonathan’s voice trailed off, as a sudden realization struck him.  “They don’t know, do they!?”

 

Ardeth sighed.  “They do not.”

 

“But why?  Evy’s the smartest person I know, maybe she knows something you don’t about stopping whatever’s going to happen….which is what, exactly?”  Jonathan asked, again.  Ardeth thought for a moment, considering how to condense the explanation as much as possible.  Then, he took a painful breath. 

 

“It is forbidden to draw blood with these weapons.  Evelyn did so.  Now her soul will be destroyed.

 

“Just like that!”  Jonathan exclaimed.  “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think!”

 

Ardeth would have shrugged had he been able.  “It is not for me to say.   However, it is apparently not ‘just like that’, as you say, for it has not yet occurred.”  

 

“Oh, well, that’s good. Right?  There wouldn’t be a grace period if there weren’t some way to stop it.  Right?   Surely, between the four of us, we can figure it out.”

 

“No,” Ardeth stated, earnestly.  “O’Connell is not the most….diplomatic of men.  If told now, I fear he will offend the Abadi, and we will not get the answers we seek.”

 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Jonathan responded, hesitantly, not fully convinced that the couple should be left in the dark.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Alex O’Connell flinched awake from a dream.  Momentarily disoriented, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, before abruptly remembering Ardeth lay next to him…or had, anyway.  Feeling around with the hand he’d tossed that direction, Alex realized, with growing alarm, that the Medjai was no longer there. 

 

Sitting up, Alex scanned the empty bed to be certain, then, opened his mouth to shout the Medjai’s name.  It closed again, silently, as it occurred to him that he might accidentally wake his parents.  Considering all that had happened that day between them and Ardeth, Alex decided he’d just look around a bit, first.  For all he knew, the warrior had simply gone to the lavatory or something.  Smiling at the thought, he crawled of the bed and headed that direction.  He changed direction as muffled voices from the hallway caught his attention. 

 

Peaking his head outside the room, Alex saw Ardeth and Jonathan sitting on the floor several yards away.  He nearly pulled his head back as it occurred to him they might see him, but they seemed focused on their conversation.  Staying as still as possible, Alex concentrated on catching the softly spoken words, hoping to figure out what was afoot.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Ardeth breathed an unheard sigh of relief when Jonathan bought his argument.   He’d hoped he would not have to share he real reason – that he didn’t want a black cloud of despair hanging over, possibly, the last few hours Rick and Evy had together.   “I swear on my life I will find a way to prevent this, but I must….”

 

“Reach the Abadi.  Yeah, yeah, I get it.  So where are these bloody Abadi anyway?”

 

“They have a room near the airport were they wait for me to bring the weapons.”

 

“They’re here!  In England!  Why didn’t you say so!?” Jonathan exclaimed, staring aghast at the warrior.  Ardeth didn’t respond.  “Rather vital piece of information you choose to keep to yourself there.”

 

Again, Ardeth didn’t respond.  Down the hall, the clock chimed the half-hour, providing a stark reminder that time was passing quickly. 

 

“I must go NOW,” the Medjai finally muttered, managing to force a deceptive amount of strength into his voice. 

 

“You won’t reach these Abadi people on your own.  I’ll have to help you,” Jonathan announced, grimly, hearing the warrior’s conviction. Nothing would stop Ardeth from leaving, but without help, he wouldn’t get far. 

 

“I cannot ask you to…”

 

Jonathan cut him off.  “She’s my sister, Ardeth.  I’ve been letting her down her my whole life, but never when it really counted, and I’m not going to start now!”

 

The Medjai studied the Englishman a moment, before nodding.   Jonathan returned the nod, but Ardeth didn’t notice.  Letting his head slip back, the warrior closed his eyes and attempted to pool his meager strength enough to get him to his feet. 

 

“All right, let’s get a move on, then,” Jonathan stated, determinedly, startling the Medjai by tucking his shoulder under Ardeth’s and pulling him to his feet.  In his haste, the Englishman wasn’t a gentle as he might have been.  The movement pulled at the warrior’s wounds, provoking a groan.  

 

“You sure about this, Ardeth,” Jonathan whispered, as the warrior weakly sagged against him. 

 

“I am fine,” Ardeth stated, his drooping head bobbing affirmatively.  He’d felt the abdominal wound’s few remaining stitches pop, but there seem little value in mentioning it to Jonathan.   

 

Jonathan raised a skeptical eyebrow.  “Uh-huh.  Of course you are.”

 

The Medjai didn’t bother to respond, choosing instead to focus on keeping his feet beneath him so that Jonathan wasn’t actually dragging him as they walked.   They’d only made it a few feet, when the dagger slipped from his weak grasp. 

 

“Perhaps, I’d better hold on to this, at least until we get to the car,” Jonathan stated, matter-of-factly, carefully propping Ardeth against the wall long enough to retrieve the weapon. 

 

Ardeth frowned; not at all keen on the idea on the idea of the cursed weapon in Jonathan’s hands.  He quickly realized, however, that, at the moment, it was no safer in his.  Sighing, he watched the Englishmen pick up the dagger and slip it into his jacket pocket.

 

“Off we go,” Jonathan muttered under his breath, as he retrieved Ardeth. 

 

The Medjai felt time rushing past much too quickly as they slowly trudged to the top of the stairs.  The slow pace chafed him, but he said nothing, knowing it would be both unkind and unhelpful.   He could feel Jonathan straining beneath his weight and knew the Englishman was moving as quickly as he could.   

 

Jonathan paused to catch his breath before tackling the first flight of stair.  Ardeth’s size made it difficult for the Englishman to keep his balance and walk, stepping down would be even trickier.  One of them would have to hold on to the banister to have any chance of making to the bottom in one piece.  Jonathan decided it would be better to allow Ardeth the extra support, even though it would require the Medjai to carry more of his own weight.

 

“Going to switch sides with you, all right,” he informed Ardeth, as he carefully eased him around to his other shoulder.  “Think you can hold on to the banister?” 

 

“Yes,” the Medjai whispered, breathlessly.  Both men sighed before taking a deep breath and stepping down.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Alex raced down the backstairs.  At the pace his uncle and Ardeth were moving, he knew he could beat the two men to the car, but Alex didn’t want to take any chances.   It was a long run to the drive from the back of the house, and he wanted time to hide before the two men reached the front door.

 

Flying out the door, Alex tried to stay focused, knowing there would be plenty of time to ponder the bit of conversation he’d just overheard.  However, despite his effort, it distracted him enough that he lost his balance as he came around the final corner of the house.  Alex landed hard on his knees, scraping both, as well as, the palm of the hand that had tried to stop the fall.  Quickly rising, he determinedly ignored the stinging and raced on to the car.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Intently focused on each step, Ardeth didn’t realize he’d reached the last one until he lost his balance attempting to take a step that wasn’t there. Reflexively twisting his weight onto the hand still holding the handrail, he hissed in pain as the motion wrenched his wounds.  The distraction allowed his hand to slide from the banister, and his legs slipped out from beneath him. 

 

Feeling the sudden movement, Jonathan scrambled to shift enough of the Medjai’s weight to catch Ardeth before he hit the floor.  The effort threw him off balance, and Jonathan stumbled backwards, taking both of them down.  He heard Ardeth hiss, but the Englishman had little time to worry about it as he landed on the stairs with a hard thud.   He grunted painfully as Ardeth landed squarely on top of him an instant later.

 

“Ardeth?!”  He gasped, acutely aware that a fall was the last thing the wounded Medjai needed.  Quickly squirming out from beneath as Ardeth struggled to rise, Jonathan gingerly helped him sit up.  

 

“I…am…fine,” the Medjai gasped, in a weak whisper, closing his eyes as he rested against the banister.   He battled to force his lungs to expand against the intense stabs of pain that had replaced the dull, constant throbbing of his ribs.  His discomfort obvious, Jonathan gave the warrior a skeptical look and prepared to question the answer, but Ardeth cut him off.  “Just… need… moment…. catch…. breath.”

 

Shaking his head, Jonathan frowned, dubiously, but simply shrugged, deciding not to argue.  Sitting down on the stairs to wait until Ardeth seemed ready to move, he aimlessly glanced around until his gaze fell onto the dry smear of blood a few feet away.  Jonathan hadn’t considered that the mess would still be there, but it wasn’t surprising, really.  Rick and Evy had been a little preoccupied since ‘it’ had happened.  Jonathan wondered if he should try to clean it up before Ardeth noticed, but realized that would only draw the Medjai’s attention to it.   Tearing his eyes away from the mess, Jonathan’s gaze fell on the tip of the sword sticking out of the crate.  After studying its bloodied tip, he rose to his feet.  Ardeth had to pass the crate, but he didn’t have to face the sword.

 

“I’m going to put these weapons of yours in the car, be back in a jiff,” Jonathan informed the warrior.  Ardeth nodded, his eyes still closed as he focused on forcing the pain back.  Not able to spare the breath, he didn’t bother to remind the Englishman that they weren’t ‘his’ weapons.

.

oOoOoOo

 

Alex quickly ducked as his uncle abruptly emerged from the house.  Holding his breath, he flattened himself against the car and stealthily slid down to a crouch.  Peeking underneath the vehicle, Alex watched his uncle’s feet as they carried him closer.  He heard the rear passenger door open and closed his eyes, praying he wouldn’t get caught.  Softly releasing his pent up breath, Alex opened his eyes as he heard the car door slam and the sound of receding footsteps.

 

Carefully poking his head up and watching his uncle through the window, Alex waited, impatiently, for the front door to close all the way.  As soon as it did, he quietly opened the rear driver’s side door, crawled in, curled up on the floorboards, and made himself as small and inconspicuous as he could.   Peering up, he noticed Jonathan had laid a sword across the back seat.  Alex breathed a sigh of relief, figuring that meant Ardeth intended to sit in the front.  Smiling a little, he closed his eyes while he waited, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

 

oOoOoOo

 

As he quietly approached, Jonathan studied Ardeth.  The Medjai’s head still rested against the banister and his eyes remained closed, making it difficult to tell if he were awake.  Carefully sitting down next to him, Jonathan wondered whether or not to disturb him.

 

“You are ready?”  Ardeth asked, startling the Englishman.  Looking over, Jonathan saw that the Medjai had raised his head and was watching him.

 

“Um, certainly…all set,” Jonathan responded, a little nervously.  A shiver ran through him as the warrior’s feverish gaze bore into him.  Ardeth nodded and glanced away as he reached for the banister to pull himself up.    

 

“Easy there,” the Englishman hissed, reaching down to help him up as he noticed the Medjai’s uninjured arm trembling beneath his weight.

 

Ardeth reluctantly accepted Jonathan’s help.  Despite his expectation of the pain, the warrior had to bite back a groan at the pull on his wounds.   However, once on his feet, Ardeth was pleased find that the brief rest had restored a little of his strength.   Leaning heavily on the Englishman, he even managed a tolerant smile as Jonathan carefully positioned himself to block the Medjai’s view as they maneuvered around the crate.   Appreciative of the effort to shield him from the sight of his dried blood smeared across the floor, Ardeth decided not to mention that he’d noticed earlier.  Despite the numerous injuries he’d suffered over the years, the sight had sent a shiver down his spine, surprising him. 

 

“Ardeth, still with me?”  Jonathan asked, concerned.  He’d been blathering on for several seconds with no response from the Medjai.

 

“Yes, ‘still with you,’” Ardeth whispered.  Roused from his thoughts, the warrior sensed an increase in the other man’s anxiety.  Hoping to ease it, he shifted most of his weight off Jonathan to show he felt stronger. 

 

Jonathan dubiously glanced sideways at Ardeth, but said nothing.   His muscles had begun to quiver from carrying the bulk of the warrior’s weight.   Since it wasn’t much further to the car, Jonathan figured he might as well accept the respite for as long as Ardeth could manage it.   However, he knew that, whatever reserve the warrior was drawing on, it wouldn’t last, and kept a close eye on him.   

 

Biting his lip in frustration, instead of pain, Ardeth silently cursed as he felt his strength wane after only a few steps.  They were just feet from the door, however, and he was determined to reach it without leaning on the Jonathan, again.   Resisting a sigh, he focused on each tile he stepped on, counting down the number that remained until he could rest against the wall. 

 

“There we are,” Jonathan muttered.  Relieved, he propped the Medjai against the wall while he opened the door.  Ardeth, also relieved, softly sighed.   Although he remained standing, it was less effort than moving.  Closing his eyes, he let his head rest against the cool stone. 

 

“Ready,” he heard Jonathan ask and opened his eyes.  Nodding, Ardeth pushed himself away from the wall, with a grunt.  Jonathan shifted around, pleased, this time, to be able to pull Ardeth’s uninjured arm over his shoulders.

 

“Nearly there,” Jonathan muttered under his breath, more for his own benefit than Ardeth’s, as the two slowly made their way out the door and trudged the remaining distance to the car.  The Medjai happily rested against the vehicle, as Jonathan opened the front passenger door and stood, waiting expectantly.

 

“I will manage,” Ardeth muttered, realizing the Englishman intended to help him sit. Ardeth wasn’t yet willing to admit to that degree of dependence.

 

“You sure?”  Jonathan asked, dubiously, as he watched the Medjai resting his forehead on the car. 

 

“I am,” Ardeth responded, without looking up.  The cool metal felt glorious against his feverish flesh, making him reluctant to break the contact.  “Give me a moment.”

 

“Sure, take your time.  I’ll..uh…I’ll just start her up,”  Jonathan responded, still skeptical.  Concerned the Medjai might topple over, he kept his eyes on Ardeth as he made his way slowly around to the driver’s side and climbed in behind the wheel.  Starting her up, he drummed his fingers as he waited for Ardeth to move.   Counting the passing seconds in his head, Jonathan began to worry as they turned into minutes. 

 

“Ardeth, you certain you can manage?”

 

“Yes,” the Medjai answered, softly.  Sighing, he lifted his head, but took a few more seconds to enjoy the cool breeze wafting by him, before wrapping his fingers around the frame and gingerly easing himself inside the vehicle.  His eyes closed, the warrior sagged wearily in the seat.   

 

“All right?”  Jonathan asked, concerned.  He frowned, skeptically, as Ardeth nodded weakly.  “Do you have an address?”

 

The Medjai frowned, his brow furrowing as he realized he did not have an address.  

 

“It is near the airport.  I will know it when I see it.” 

 

Jonathan simply shrugged and eased his foot onto the gas.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Bringing the car to a stop, Jonathan glanced for the fortieth time at the Medjai sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat.    He knew he should wake him, but it seemed too unkind, so, instead, Jonathan sighed and turned to begin his fifth loop around the airport.  Looking up just as the wheels started to move, he saw a figured standing a few feet in front of the car and reflexively slammed on the brakes.  He grimaced as Ardeth jolted awake.

 

On the floorboards, the sudden stop also brought Alex awake with a start.  His eyes darted around the vehicle as he tried to recollect where he was. 

 

"Sorry about that, old boy."  He heard from the front seat...and remembered.

 

Carefully stretching his stiff body, Alex peaked his head up to see what was happening.  His jaw dropped as he caught sight of the figure standing in front of the car.  She wasn't English, he decided as he studied her.  Alex assumed it to be a 'her', anyway, since a prettily embroidered silvery burqa covered her.

 

"One of your 'Abadi'?" Jonathan inquired of Ardeth.  The waves of pain send surging through him by the sudden, jerking stop left the Medjai unable to speak.  He managed a nod, however.  Concerned by Ardeth's discomfort, Jonathan decided it might help to get him out of the car.  He turned to open his door, only to discover it was already opening, as were the rear and passenger doors. 

 

"Hey, wait just a....,"  Jonathan shouted, lunging for Ardeth as hands pulled the warrior from the vehicle.  A hand on his own shoulder quickly distracted the Englishman.  Flinching away, Jonathan turned to see an imposing figure looking down at him with a patient smile.  The man's clothes were the same silvery color as the burqa and he had a scimitar tucked into his sash, leading Jonathan to the conclusion he was an Abadi warrior.  

 

"Please, come with me," the warrior asked, beckoning with his hand.  

 

Hesitant, Jonathan glanced around and saw two other warriors carefully carrying Ardeth away.  A woman followed closely behind, carrying the Devourer's weapons.   Jonathan watched helplessly for a moment, before a scuffle behind him caught his attention.  Turning, he saw his nephew pulled from the backseat by another burqa-shrouded Abadi, and his heart skipped a beat.

 

 "Alex...," he hissed under his breath, shaking his head.  The child shrugged, apologetically.

 

"Please come with us.  You have our word you will not be harmed," assured the woman holding Alex by the collar.

 

With Alex and Ardeth both in the hands of the Abadi, Jonathan saw no other option but to comply and, with a sigh, crawled out of the car.  The woman bowed, slightly, before stepping in the direction the others had taken Ardeth.  Her hand on Alex's head gently guided the child ahead of her.   The Abadi warrior gestured for Jonathan to follow and waited for the Englishman to move, before falling in step behind him.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Escorted to the open doorway of a small, rather innocuous looking hotel room, Jonathan entered nervously.  Not at all keen on the idea of being trapped, he spun around as he heard the door close behind him. To his dismay, he found himself staring into the neck of the warrior he'd 'met' at the car.  Backing up a few steps, Jonathan studied the imposing Abadi standing, arms folded authoritatively, in front of the only obvious exit. 

 

"It is not our intent to keep you prisoner."  Jonathan spun back around to face the woman whose hand remained, firmly but gently, resting on his nephew's head.  "You may leave when you wish.  Johari will not prevent it."

 

Jonathan smiled, tightly, more than a little uncomfortable with the situation.

 

"I take it he's 'Johari'," he replied coolly, thumbing in the direction of the warrior at the door.  "And you would be?"     

 

"I am Najat," the woman responded, politely bowing her head.  "You are not O'Connell."

 

Despite his tension, Jonathan chuckled at the matter-of-fact statement.  "No.  I am not O'Connell; I'm the thorn in his side."

 

Najat cocked her head to one side, puzzled by the Englishman's reply.

 

"Jonathan Carnahan, O'Connell's brother-in-law," he clarified.  Najat bowed her head to acknowledge the introduction. 

 

"And you are Alex O'Connell," she stated, inclining her head to look at the child.

 

"Yes, ma'am," Alex tentatively replied, turning his head to look up at her.  "What do want from us?"

 

Again, Najat tilted her head, contemplatively.   "Want from you?  We want nothing, child.  The Abadi did not seek you; you sought the Abadi.  What do you want from us?"

 

"Well, Ardeth, for a start, ma'am."

 

Despite the burqa, Jonathan could tell from her eyes that she smiled as she lifted her hand off the child's head and made a gesture to her left.  Both he and Alex reflexively glanced over, each noticing for the first time a door to an adjoining room. 

 

"A request easily granted, child," Najat quipped. 

 

Alex exchanged glances with his uncle, before bolting toward the door.   Throwing it open, he instantly spotted the Medjai.

 

"Ardeth!"  He cried, dashing to the bed on which the warrior rested.  Startled, Ardeth wearily opened his eyes.  It took a moment for him to focus on Alex and see the worry etched across his little face.  

 

"Do not be concerned, young O'Connell.  I am fine," Ardeth croaked, attempting a smile, but not quite succeeding.  

 

Alex grinned, too relieved to be back at the warrior's side to worry about the weakness of Ardeth's voice.  Crawling up on the bed, he sighed contentedly as he curled up next to the Medjai. 

 

Instinctively, Ardeth draped his arm comfortingly around Alex, then, closed his eyes again.  He was too uncomfortable to fall asleep, but too tired to move, so he simply lay there, trying to will the pain and fever away. 

 

"He is unwell," Najat observed, walking up behind Jonathan, as he stood in the doorway watching his nephew and Ardeth.

 

"Yes, ma'am." Turning slighting, he cast his eyes downward and explained.  "That's the reason we sought the Abadi." 

 

Jonathan expected more questions, but Najat simply bowed slightly and slipped past him.  As she moved toward the bed, she made some sort of gesture he only vaguely caught out of the corner of his eye.   Registering a sudden burst of activity as the other Abadi rushed to comply with the non-verbal command, Jonathan wished he'd paid more attention.  It was obviously a handy little gesture to know when in the company of Abadi.

 

"With your permission, honored Medjai, we will attend you," Najat requested, her tone soft and soothing.  Standing at the bedside, she respectfully waited for a response from Ardeth.

 

Wearily opening his eyes, the Medjai studied the Abadi for several seconds, before nodding, slightly.   Acknowledging the consent, Najat bowed and began gently loosening his sash.  Ardeth held up his hand, stopping her, and she quickly backed away.  He frowned, sheepishly, realizing he'd likely given her the impression he was displeased, when in truth, he'd only meant to help.  Even with the increasing fuzziness of his brain, he grasped that it would be easier to remove the sash if he weren't laying on it.

 

"Careful!"  Alex hissed, as he, Jonathan and Najat rushed to help the Medjai rise.

 

"Relax.  I've got you," Jonathan muttered, feeling the tension in the warrior's body as he held him upright while the sash was speedily removed.  Jonathan found it interesting that she didn't also remove the Medjai's robe.  Instead, Najat slid it down enough to briefly examine the back of the wounded shoulder, then, pulled it up again, before helping lay Ardeth back down.

 

Ardeth had to bit his lip to keep from groaning as he sat up, but it slipped out, soft and clipped, as they eased him back onto the mattress.  Closing his eyes, he prayed to Allah for strength.

 

Concerned by the weariness and pain on Ardeth's face, Alex barely noticed as Najat stepped away from the bed.  However, he did a double-take when she returned.  There was something different; he wasn't sure what exactly, but there was definitely something.  He studied her, as she carefully set a basin of water on the nightstand, and it finally clicked.  She'd gotten shorter.

   

"You're not Najat!"  Alex declared, accusatorily.

 

"I am Widad," the Abadi stated, with a slight bow, before backing away and returning to the adjoining room. 

 

Alex refocused on Ardeth, his worry growing as he noticed that the fine beads of sweat on the Medjai's forehead had grown large enough to trickle down.  Glancing around, Alex searched for a cloth to wipe them away, but didn't spot anything handy and turned to shout for someone to bring something. An Abadi floated thru the doorway, cloth in hand, before the request could be voiced. As she set some supplies on the stand and soaked the cloth, Alex studied her.  He found himself unable to decide if it were Widad or Najat. 

 

"Najat?"  He asked, hesitantly, as the woman turned to face him.  His brow wrinkled with confusion when she made no move toward Ardeth.

 

"I am Zaynab," the woman replied, simply, bowing slightly before backing away as Widad had.   

 

Alex huffed in frustration.  He'd grown weary of the Abadi and their burqas and their generally lack of communication.   Exasperated, he glanced at the doorway, saw one of the women approaching and quickly looked away.  He'd lost interest in playing the 'who's under the burqa' game.  

 

"The burqas are not worn to tease you, child," Najat quipped, earning an indignant glare from Alex.  He'd also grown weary of being called 'child'. 

 

"Yeah, right.  So why are they worn?" he growled, sarcastically.  "And the name is Alex!"

 

"Alex," Jonathan chastised, but the Abadi raised her hand to shush him.

 

Najat studied Alex for a moment.  She'd understood the question was not sincere, but sensed his growing frustration and hoped an answer would make him more comfortable.   

 

"Burqas are worn by different tribes for different reasons.  When we are amongst outsiders, the Abadi wear them for protection," she explained, snatching the cloth from the basin and swirling it across Ardeth's feverish skin.  The Medjai half-heartedly listened to the conversation, as the soft caress of the cloth and the blissful coolness of the water lulled him toward sleep.  

 

"Protection?  What do you mean?"  Jonathan questioned, finding the conversation oddly interesting. 

   

"The Abadi are a matriarchal society," Najat explained. 

 

"A what?" Alex asked, curiosity overcoming his hostility.

 

"She means the women are in charge," his uncle clarified.

 

"Oh!  So you have a queen, instead of a king?" 

 

"Yes," Najat replied. 

 

"And you wear the burqas so that nobody knows which one of you it is?"

 

Najat nodded.

 

"But you don't wear them if just your people are around?" Alex quizzed.

 

"No," she stated, as she dropped the cloth back into the basin.  "Nor is it a law that we must wear them amongst outsiders, it is simply a custom."

 

Alex nodded and glanced back down at Ardeth.  Too his relief, he saw that the Medjai seemed more relaxed, possibly even asleep.  When Alex looked up again, Najat was gone. 

 

"Hey!  Where'd she go?" 

 

Jonathan thumbed over his shoulder, indicating she'd returned to the other room.   Twisting around to glance past his uncle, Alex gaped as he saw a woman approaching them wearing an intricately crocheted, silvery shawl draped around her, in place of a burqa.  

 

Jonathan's jaw also dropped as he admired the woman's high cheekbones and full lips.  Her eyes captured his attention most, however.  He almost seemed to drown in their depths.  Seeing his uncle's reaction, Alex giggled, breaking the spell and sending a chagrined blush across Jonathan's face. 

 

"N...N...Najat?"  Jonathan stammered, as she floated up to the side of the bed. 

 

"Yes," she replied, with a slight bow.  Glancing at Alex, she smiled, sweetly.  "I hoped this might make you more at ease, chi...Alex."

 

"You didn't have to," Alex responded.  Grasping the enormity of the gesture, he returned a sincere smile.  "But it does, tha...shukran."

   

Satisfied that both Alex and Jonathan were sufficiently disarmed, Najat focused on Ardeth.  Slipping a finger beneath the edge of his robe, she gingerly pulled it aside to reveal his bandaged shoulder and ribs.  

 

The gentle touch provoked a soft sigh from the Medjai, as it dragged him back to awareness.  The few minutes of sleep had cleared some of the fog from his weary brain, but Ardeth knew it wouldn't last.  Determined to seek the answers to his questions before the fuzziness returned, he reluctantly opened his eyes.   His browed furrowed at the unexpected sight that greeted him. 

 

Becoming aware of Ardeth's scrutiny, Najat reflexively adjusted her shawl, carefully tucking back a few renegade slips of hair.

 

"Najat?"  He croaked.  The rarity of an Abadi uncovering amongst outsiders left him a little uncertain if she were real or a dream. 

 

"Yes, it is I," Najat answered softly, before turning toward the nightstand to open up a wrapped bundle Widad had left by the water basin.

 

"What's that?"  Alex asked, curiously.  Distractedly rising up to get a better view, he lost his balance.

 

"Careful!"  Jonathan hissed, steadying the youngster before he fell into the Medjai.  However, he'd caught him a moment too late to prevent the child's knee from brushing against Ardeth's side.

 

Ardeth's eyes closed tightly as a wave of pain radiated out from his swollen abdominal wound and tender ribs, provoking a hiss that he wasn't able to stifle.  Najat spun around and quickly slipped a hand into his, providing the warrior something to grip besides the bedding as he arch his back against the pain. 

 

"S...s...sorry, Ardeth.  I didn't mea...,"  Alex muttered, tears welling in his eyes.  Ardeth cut him off with a weak wave of his hand, but it was another minute before he could catch his breath to speak. 

 

"D..do...not...con..cern...your...self...young...O...Con...nell,"  Ardeth finally managed to gasp.  He wanted to say more to comfort the child, but simply couldn't get it out.   Instead, he forced his eyes open enough to glance at Alex and managed a weak, pained smile.   

 

"It was not intended, Alex.  Do not trouble yourself," Najat soothed, maternally.

 

Alex sniffed, but managed a quivering smile.  Wiping away his tears, he carefully scooted toward the edge of the bed, unwilling to take a chance he might accidentally hurt Ardeth again.  He'd intended to get down, but paused when the Medjai reached out for him.

 

"Stay," Ardeth whispered, managing to catch the child's hand.  It seemed dishonorable to allow Alex to leave so dejectedly after bravely sitting by his side for so many hours.

 

"But what if..."

 

Alex's protests faded away as Ardeth tugged weakly on his hand. Fresh tears welled in the child's eyes as he felt the warrior's frailty.  For the first time since his father had pulled Ardeth off the sword, Alex seriously considered the possibility Ardeth might actually die, and it banished any desire to leave the Medjai's side.  Lying back down on the bed and curling into a fetal position, he clung to the warrior's arm. Closing his eyes, Alex let his tears flowed freely.   Exhausted, he quickly fell asleep.  Feeling the tears dampen his arm, Ardeth sighed.

 

"It is good that he sleeps," Najat soothed.  

 

"Yeah, don't worry about Alex.  He's a plucky little bugger...be right as rain after some sleep," Jonathan chimed in, taking his cue from the Abadi.

 

"Yes, he is ...strong...much like...his parents," Ardeth croaked, closing his eyes.   Najat smiled, sadly, and turned back toward the nightstand to finish what she'd started.

 

"You never did say what it was you were up to," Jonathan observed, feeling it his duty to take on the role of Ardeth's protector now that Alex had fallen asleep.

 

Najat glanced over her shoulder, briefly studying the curious Englishman.  "I am mixing herbs, which, I hope, will ease some of the his pain and reduce his fever."

 

"Oh, well then, carry on," Jonathan mumbled.  After a tolerant bow, the Abadi returned to her work.  Jonathan continued to watch, curiously, as she blended several herbs into a small cup filled with water.  Holding it carefully in one hand, Najat turned towards Ardeth.

 

"Honored Medjai," she whispered, respectfully, and waited for him to open his eyes.

 

"Najat, ti'raf 'ismee," he whispered.  Reluctantly opening his eyes, Ardeth raised a bemused eyebrow at the formality of his long-time friend. ("Najat, you know my name.")

 

"Zai ma terid," Najat replied, torn between the urge to frown, disapprovingly, or smile with amusement. Custom dictated that she not use his name amongst outsiders, but then she'd already broken with custom by removing her burqa. ("As you wish.")

 

"Heeey," Jonathan whined, before either could speak again.  "Could we keep it in English?"

 

"My apologies," Najat replied, bowing politely, before returning her attention to Ardeth.  "Will you drink this?"

 

The Medjai nodded, gratefully, and allowed her to support his head as he drank the concoction.   Relief washed through him as he immediately recognized the unpleasant taste of the medicine.  Ardeth was certain it would be strong enough to ease his pain.  Downing the last swallow, the knowledge made him smile ever so slightly.  Throughout the journey from the bed to the airport, he'd clung to the hope the Abadi had brought medicines with them, knowing that the herbal remedies were stronger than Dr. Hamilton's aspirin.  Ardeth didn't fault the physician, aware that his attempts to ease the discomfort had been sincere; they'd simply not been particularly effective.  

 

"Shukran," he whispered, with sincerity.  As Najat removed her hand, allowing his head to rest upon the pillow once more, Ardeth closed his eyes.  He sighed, contentedly, as the medicine quickly went to work dulling his pain.

 

Najat placed the cup back on the nightstand and meticulously rebundled the herbs, allowing time for the medicine to spread throughout his body.  Turning back after a few minutes, she carefully slid his robe aside to inspect the abdominal wound.  The whispery touch of the shifting fabric sent pain screaming out from his over-wrought nerves, forcing a hiss from Ardeth that brought a frown to Najat's face.   She was certain that she'd given the medicine enough time to dull his pain; the wound had to be very serious to have still provoked such a response.   

 

Almost fearfully, Najat carefully removed the bandage, refusing to glance at the wound until she could focus on it fully.  Ardeth clenched the bed sheet in response to her gentle touch, but she refused to let it distract her.   Tossing the bloodied bandage aside, Najat finally looked at the wound and nearly gasped at the severity of the infection.   However, the wound was not great in size - at least she didn't think so, with the areas so badly swollen, it was hard to tell.  Studying it thoroughly, Najat's frowned deepened as she spotted foreboding signs that the infection had already spread beyond the injury.  She turned back toward the nightstand, with a sigh, and prepared a poultice, despite the sinking feeling that it would not be enough.

 

Jonathan had been determined not to look, but still caught enough of a glimpse to realize that Ardeth was in worse shape than he'd thought. Certain that all the moving around hadn't helped, he sighed, feeling more than a little guilty.  Rick and Evy were going to kill him for helping Ardeth leave, especially if the Medjai didn't recover. 

 

"You worry for your friend?"  Najat asked, although it was more of a statement.

 

"I worry about what my sister and her husband are going do to me for not sending him straight back to bed," the Englishman responded, glumly. 

 

"They are good friends?" 

 

Jonathan's brow wrinkled for a moment before grasping the question.  "Ah!  You mean Rick, Evy and Ardeth?" 

 

Najat nodded.

 

Jonathan shrugged.  "Suppose so.  I've never really thought about it." 

 

Although she said nothing, Jonathan frowned, sensing that his answer had somehow displeased the Abadi.   It made him wonder if it were important for some reason.  Before he could ponder it further, he saw a troubled expression on Najat's face.

 

"Is there something wrong?"

 

"If it would not be too much trouble, I need some ice...for the swelling."

 

Jonathan nodded.  "Back in a jiff." 

 

Najat bowed her head, appreciatively, and watched him leave, before grabbing the poultice from the nightstand.  An amused smile lit her face as she turned to place it on Ardeth's wound.

 

Ardeth tried, but failed, to bite back a moan as the poultice pressed against his injured flesh.  Cracking his eyes open, his brow wrinkled at the unexpected sight of Najat's grin. 

 

"What is amusing?" he asked.  His weariness made him sound a bit peevish, causing Najat to instantly grow serious.

 

"My apologies," she began, but Ardeth waved away her concern, so she simply answered his question. "The Englishman is fetching ice..."

 

"Yes, I heard." 

 

Najat frowned.  She'd assumed he was dozing when she'd discussed him with Jonathan.  Despite the brief duration of the conversation, it made her uncomfortable to realize he had heard. 

 

"Why is this amusing?"  Ardeth inquired, sleepily.

 

"He believes he will return 'in a jiff,' but that is not possibly.  There is no place to fetch ice in this hotel, he must seek it elsewhere."  

 

"This will take some time?"  Ardeth asked, growing a little more alert. 

 

"Yes," Najat replied, turning slightly to face him.  She sensed from his tone that that he was leading somewhere. 

 

"Then you must tell me now how to stop the curse?"  Ardeth demanded.  Intently gazing at her, he suddenly appeared fully awake.  Startled by the abrupt shift, it took Najat a few seconds to grasp the significance of the question. 

 

"The wounds...?"

 

"Were inflicted with the Devourer's weapons," Ardeth finished for her.  Najat closed her eyes and sighed, mournfully. 

 

"I feared as much," she informed him, remorsefully. "The curse cannot be stopped."

 

The Medjai's brow narrowed, determinedly, his eyes darkening as his gaze grew more intense.

 

"I do not accept that!  There is _always_ a way.  You will tell me," Ardeth demanded, his voice low, almost menacing.

 

"I cannot tell you of what I do not know," Najat insisted, regretfully.  "It cannot be stopped." 

 

Unconsciously growling in frustration, instead of pain, Ardeth abruptly pulled himself up.  His hand draped reflexively over the poultice, holding it in place over his wound as he rested against the wall, glowering at the resolute Abadi.   Najat fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze, but gave no indication of yielding, and, after a minute, Ardeth relented.  Letting his head fall back, he closed his eyes and sighed.  Another minute passed, before he softly whispered a single word, his voice filled with desperation.

 

"Please." 

 

He heard Najat sigh and felt a tickle of hope.   Lifting his head, he opened his eyes and look at her.  

 

"You must care very deeply for this person," she stated, although it was more of a question.   Najat had heard of the O'Connells, but never from Ardeth.  He rarely spoke of the outside world when he visited the Abadi.

 

"Evelyn is a friend," Ardeth replied, as though it explained everything. 

 

Najat studied him, contemplatively, then, raised a perplexed eyebrow.  "A friend that appears to have earnestly tried to kill you."

 

Ardeth said nothing.  Not entirely sure of what had happened, he was at a loss to explain it to Najat.  The Medjai felt certain, however, that he must've done something to provoke Evelyn's attack.  His brain was just too weary to figure out exactly what.  Letting his head rest against the wall, Ardeth closed his eyes.  Almost immediately, the image of Evelyn's rage-filled expression flashed before him, sending a shudder through him as his eyes flew open again. 

 

"Evelyn would not have intentionally done so without provocation," Ardeth finally whispered, but it lacked conviction. His next statement did not, however.  Regardless of the reason for the attack, the blame was his.  Evelyn would not be in danger had he retrieved the weapons before they were bloodied.  "I cannot, will not, let her suffer when it is I that am at fault."

 

Najat's brow furrowed.  Many emotions had danced across his features during his silence, but too quickly for the Abadi to interpret.  There had, however, been one emotion easily recognized.  It was doubt - of that Najat had none.   However, she knew the Medjai well enough to be certain he would never openly admit it to her. 

 

"Please, my old friend," Ardeth repeated his plea in a soft, desperate whisper.   

 

Najat frowned.  She knew what the outcome would be were she to give him the answers he sought, and wasn't certain she could bear it.  Still, she could not deny him, either. He had accompanied the Abadi to England as her guest, as so was her responsibility.   Whatever the truth of the matter, Ardeth believed himself at fault.  Her duty demanded that she provide him the means to make amends, even if it cost him his life. 

 

"As I have stated, the curse cannot be stopped; Al 'Asima will claim Evelyn's soul," she began, after a reluctant sigh.  Lifting his head to glare at her, Ardeth opened his mouth to object, but Najat raised her hand, pleading for patience.  "However, while you still live, it is possible that her soul may not be destroyed."

 

Ardeth sighed, relief washing over him.   Letting his head fall back again, he closed his eyes and listened. 

 

"Upon death, Al 'Asima's judgment is immediate.  But, so long as your soul remains tethered to your body, Evelyn has three days to prove herself deserving of mercy.  To do this, she must reach the sacred sarcophagus.  Locked within is the Amulet of Souls, which Evelyn must wear in order to submit herself to Al 'Asima for judgment," Najat elaborated. 

 

"The weapons will unlock it?"  Ardeth speculated, drowsily.

 

The Abadi nodded.

 

Ardeth lifted his head, once more, his forehead wrinkling in consternation.   "It is that simple?"

 

Najat sighed, unhappily, remembering of the doubt she'd seen in his face.  "It is simple, but not certain.  If, as you believe, the fault is not hers, her soul will be judged innocent and set free.  But, I warn you, if Al 'Asima finds the fault does lie with her, her soul will be destroyed."

 

Closing his eyes, Ardeth inhaled as deeply as his injuries would allow.   The memory of Evelyn's rage-filled expression flashed before him, but this time he did not flee from it.  Keeping his eyes closed, Ardeth tried, as he had many times, to clearly recall, what had happened, but it was no use.   His feverish brain simply refused.  Without certainty of the events, Ardeth knew it was too great a risk to allow Evelyn's actions to be judged.  Opening his eyes, he sighed his breath out slowly, before focusing again on Najat.

 

"There must be another way," he insisted, determinedly.  "I ask you, what else may be done?"

 

Najat sighed, dejectedly.  She'd prayed he would not ask, but knew he would.  "As her victim, you may stand in her place."

 

"That is what must be done," Ardeth declared, resolutely, his eyes lighting up with hope.

 

She'd known he would choose it the moment his questions began.  However, that did not prevent her from staring at Ardeth, incredulously.

 

"Ardeth, you must understand, this has never before been done.  I do not know by what Al 'Asima will make her judgment."

 

"It is what must be," Ardeth replied, matter-of-factly, as he closed his eyes. 

 

"You are willing to risk your soul for this person!?" Najat questioned, appalled that he would even consider such a thing.  "Surely this is more than friendship, more even than honor, demands!" 

 

Ardeth carefully shook his head.  "Were I to allow the destruction of Evelyn's soul when it was within my power to prevent it, my soul would never find peace, even in Paradise."  

 

Dismayed, Najat simply nodded, compliantly.  She could tell that he would not be swayed.  He was determined to sacrifice himself, and, as she has sent him on the errand that started it, she was honor-bound to help him. 

 

"If this must be done, we should depart at once," Najat muttered, sad resignation coating her voice.   "I will arrange it."

 

"Arrange what?"  Jonathan asked, returning to the bedside with a small bucket of ice.  "Ardeth, old boy, wasn't expecting to see you sitting up."

 

Ardeth opened his eyes and nodded, very slightly, to acknowledge the Englishman, before shifting uncomfortably and closing his eyes again.

 

"Arrangements to leave England," Najat answered Jonathan, taking the filled ice bucket he handed her.

 

"To go back to Egypt?"

 

"Yes," Najat confirmed.  Quickly bundling some ice into a towel, she gently lifted Ardeth's hand aside to place the ice over the poultice.  Ardeth squirmed slightly in response to the added pressure, but draped his hand over the top to secure it.

 

"Oh, well then, isn't it time we let Rick and Evy in on what's up?"  Jonathan inquired. 

 

"No!"  Ardeth exclaimed, his eyes flying open and fixing on the Englishman.

 

"But..,"  Jonathan began to argue.

 

"NO!"  Ardeth repeated, adamantly.  "I have been given the answers I sought and now know what is required to save Evelyn.  All that remains it to carry it out."

 

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief.  Despite Ardeth's determination, he'd worried that there wouldn't be a way to stop the curse. 

 

"That's excellent!  But, really, shouldn't we...?" 

 

"There is nothing O'Connell can do," Ardeth interrupted, truthfully, hoping the Englishman would not notice he'd only referred to one O'Connell.  Jonathan could not inform them of what he was about to attempt; it would only cause them pain.  "As it was my blood that was spilled, it is I that must remedy the situation.  Informing the O'Connells will do nothing but increase the risk to Evelyn."

 

"All right," Jonathan hesitantly agreed, wishing he hadn't missed the conversation the Medjai and the Abadi had apparently had during his absence.  Ardeth was obviously leaving something out - something that the sick feeling in Jonathan's stomach hinted was important. 

 

"You must swear you will not speak of it to them," Ardeth insisted.   Jonathan looked puzzled for moment - he could hardly mention it to them while he was on his way to Cairo, and they were in London.  Then it dawned on him that the Medjai intended to leave him in London, as well. 

 

"Hey!  Wait a minute!  I am coming with you, you know," he adamantly informed them. 

 

"Jonath..."

 

It was Jonathan's turn to interrupt Ardeth. 

 

"No!  Don't even suggest it.  I'm coming with you, and that's all there is to it!"

 

Ardeth said nothing verbally, but his eyes spoke volumes.

 

"Please, Ardeth.  She's my sister; let me see this through to the end," Jonathan pleaded.  He saw the Medjai's eyes soften and breathed an internal sigh of relief. "Besides, you can't send me back now.  They'll kill me for helping you leave!"

 

"It is true, and I do not wish to carry the responsibility of your death," Ardeth jested, a corner his mouth curving up ever so slightly.  Convincing Jonathan to stay behind would require more strength than he could spare.  The Englishman would travel with them, but he would not be told of what was to come.  

 

"Good.  All settled, then?" Jonathan asked, just to be certain, and Ardeth nodded wearily. 

 

"I will make arrangement to have the child taken home," Najat offered, seeing that the two men had settled their disagreement. 

 

"Have the child what?  Taken where?  Wait a minute!  What's going on!"  Alex quizzed, groggily, still three-quarters asleep.   Ardeth cringed at the sound of his voice.  He'd prayed the child would stay asleep until after they left.

 

"We must return to Egypt; you must return home," Ardeth announced, closing his eyes tightly against the argument he knew would come.

 

"Uh-uuh!  I'm going with you!"  Alex shouted, sitting up on his knees to glare obstinately at the Medjai.

 

"Alex!" Jonathan hissed, but his nephew simply rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Ardeth. 

 

"You cannot travel with us without your parents' knowledge, and we haven't time to inform them," Ardeth wearily attempted to reason. 

 

"We'll ring them," Alex countered.

 

"Young O'Connell, it simply isn't...,"Ardeth began, but Alex interrupted, recognizing the slightly condescending tone of voice that grown-ups used to refuse him without a giving a good reason. 

 

"You can have someone take me home, if you want, but I'll just sneak away and follow on my own," Alex challenged, rebelliously.  "And we both know I'm a lot more likely to get into trouble on my own, than with you!"

 

Ardeth and Jonathan sighed simultaneously, while Najat attempted to stifle a chuckle. 

 

"I may assume the child will be traveling with us, as well?" she queried, valiantly attempting to stay composed.  Ardeth nodded, grumpily.  "Widad and Zaynab shall inform his parents, so that they may follow."

 

Ardeth frowned.  He didn't want them to follow; they would try to prevent him from doing what he must, and Evelyn would be lost.

 

"Do not be concerned," Najat assured, realizing, after a moment, what had displeased him.  "There will be sufficient time to do what must be done, before they arrive."

 

Ardeth nodded and closed his eyes, as Najat bowed slightly to excuse herself.  The plan left him wary, but there seemed little alternative.  Nothing short of tying the child up would prevent Alex from following, and it would be unkind to leave the O'Connells without knowledge of their son's whereabouts.  Najat seemed confident that it would not cause them difficulty; he would have to trust her.     

 

"What must be done before they arrive?"  Alex inquired, but received no response from the dozing Medjai.  "Ardeth!" 

 

"Let him sleep, Alex," Jonathan softly hissed, snagging his nephew's hand as it reached over to shake Ardeth's arm.  "You can ask him later." 

 

Alex shrugged and shifted to sit on the bed, stretching his legs out in front of him, to relieve the pressure on his scraped-up knees.   It seemed strange to him that they would suddenly start bothering him now.  After all, he'd been kneeling on them, of and on, for a while.   Alex decided he must have been too distracted to notice, with Ardeth and the Abadi and everything.   Pulling himself backward to rest against the wall next to Ardeth, his eyes slowly drifted shut as he contemplated the slight stinging.

 

The early hour caught up to Jonathan as he stood by himself in the silence, watching Ardeth and his nephew dozing.  Glancing around, he spotted a chair.  It didn't look very comfortable, but he decided it would do.   After all, Najat was making arrangement for them to leave, so he wouldn't be sitting on it very long.  Wandering over drowsily, Jonathan picked it up and quietly brought it over to the nightstand.  Sinking onto it, he rested his arm on the stand and his head on his arm, before closing his eyes - just for a second - while he waited for Najat to come back.    

 

oOoOoOo

 

Evy startled awake.  Rolling off Rick’s arm, she carefully sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, before glancing around, in search of what had woken her.  She spotted nothing; the room was peacefully still.   Relaxing back against the headboard and closing her eyes, Evy decided it must have been a dream.  She was just drifting into another one when the hall clock chimed, rousing her.  

 

‘Hmmm…six o’clock,’ Evy thought, lazily.  The sun wouldn’t be up for a bit, so she considered curling back up next to Rick.    Abruptly remembering Ardeth, Evy’s eyes flew open.  ‘I should check on him – no – I’ll only disturb him.’

 

Dr. Hamilton had promised to leave Ardeth in peace until morning, and she knew she should honor that, despite the difficulty of it.  It had been painfully obvious that Ardeth needed sleep. She knew she might as well lie back down, but settled for closing her eyes and trying to relax sitting up.  It didn’t take long to realize the pointlessness of the endeavor.  Sighing, Evy carefully rose from the bed, pausing for a moment as Rick stirred slightly, before rolling over.  Once he’d settled again, she tiptoed toward the door.  As she wasn’t likely to get back to sleep, she decided she might as well grab something from the pantry to distract herself from the continued temptation to check on Ardeth. 

 

‘The journal!  Where is it?!’  The thought striking her suddenly, Evy halted mid-step halfway out the door.  ‘Please, don’t let me have left it sitting next to Ardeth!’

 

Slipping back into her bedroom, Evy glanced around, desperately praying she’d remembered to grab it.  A long, relieved sigh escaped her lips as she spotted it on the nightstand.    Tiptoeing over, she snatched it up and made her way out the door.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Reaching the pantry, Evy grabbed a tin of biscuits and set it, and the journal, on the table, before putting on the teakettle.  It was a bit early, but she found the thought of the warm, soothing liquid too tempting to resist.  Sitting at the table to wait, Evy flipped the journal open to the dog-eared page, then turned to the next one:

 

“Allah be praised!  Ardeth’s fever has broken at last.  It happened very late in the night, just as it seemed death had finally, mercifully, arrived to claim him.  He’d struggled for so many hours, there seemed no strength left, of body or will, and then he’d grown so still, even Fathi was certain that Ardeth had passed.  He could not bring himself to reach out to him, for fear of confirming it.  Neither could I.  But dear, steady Badi’a did.  I could hardly believe her words when she said he still lived and his fever had relented.  Ardeth has not awoken, but it matters not.  Once again, we dare hope.  It is a great gift from Allah.”

 

Relief washed over Evy.  The journal hadn’t said that Ardeth died; she’d been so certain that it would.   

 

‘Of course it hadn’t,’ Evy thought to herself, ‘he’s upstairs in our guestroom, so obviously, it couldn’t have said that he died.  I was just too exhausted to think rationally last night.’

 

Glancing at the next paragraph, she noticed it was dated several days later, but the kettle’s whistle interrupted before she had a chance to read more.  Jumping up, Evy rushed over to silence it before it awoke the entire household.  Sliding the kettle off the heat, a little knot of worried tied in her stomach.  What if it woke Ardeth?  Evy decided, despite her earlier resolve, she better look in on him.   Pausing long enough to put away the biscuits and grab the journal, she headed back up the stairs toward the guest room.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Returning to Ardeth’s bedside, Najat frowned, anxiously. The feverish blush of his skin had grown deeper during her absence, and the sweat, glistening in the low light, coalesced into increasing larger droplets before trickling down. She noticed his expression was peaceful, however.  The powerful herbs had at least eased his pain, even if they’d done little, if anything at all, to quell the infection draining the life from him.   

 

It was tempting to not disturb him, but Najat knew she must.  Grabbing a fresh bandage, she took a deep breath to steal herself and gingerly lifted his hand from atop the melted ice pack.  Ardeth didn’t even stir, but that was not unexpected, and she tried not to let it worry her.  The Medjai desperately needed the sleep the medicine had allowed him; it did not seem unreasonable that he would be reluctant to wake again so soon. 

 

Lifting away the melted ice pack and the poultice as gently as she could, Najat frowned.  The swelling had decreased enough to see the angry, jagged edges of the wound.   It had all the appearance of having been inflicted with deadly intent, despite Ardeth’s determined assurances to the contrary.  However, Najat refused to waste precious time speculating on events that could not be altered.   It already seemed doubtful the Medjai possessed sufficient strength to accomplish his task.  Whatever reserve he drawn from to get as far as he had, the fever was quickly draining away.  

 

Forcing herself to focus, Najat pressed the fresh bandage against the wound, finally provoking a response from the Medjai.  Abruptly waking, he hissed and grabbed her hand, pulling it away.  The suddenness of his reaction startled Najat, but she quickly regained her composure. 

 

“My apologies for waking you, but we must prepare to leave.”

 

Ardeth dazedly blinked his eyes several time, before nodding.  Responding more reflexively than coherently, he attempted to rise, sending intense flares of pain shooting out from his abdomen.   Hissing loudly, the Medjai crumpled weakly back onto the bed, gulping down air in deep gasps that provoked even more pain from his broken ribs.  Closing his eyes and focusing, Ardeth managed to even out his breathing, slightly decreasing the pain.  However, the effort drained much of the strength that sleep had replenished, and he found himself drifting toward slumber again.

 

Sighing mournfully, Najat finished securing his bandage and backed away.  Studying him, she decided to let him sleep a few more minutes while she woke the others.  Tentatively turning away, she faced the Englishman. 

 

“Jonathan.”  A soft, sensual voice wove its way into his dream, making Jonathan smile, giddily. 

 

“Mmfflllmmm,” he yawned in his sleep.  “Oh yeah! That’s it!  Sing to me, my sweet little songbird.” 

 

Reaching out for the luscious beauty in his dream, Jonathan toppled off his precarious perch and landed, solidly, in a heap on the floor.  ‘Snort’ “What in the….!”

 

“Jonathan?!”  Najat exclaimed, sheepishly, reaching down to help the Englishman to his feet.  “I beg your forgiveness!   It was not my intention to startle you so.”

 

Jonathan looked, blurry eyed, at the burqa-shrouded figure standing over him.  “Najat?”

 

“Yes,” the figure responded. “You are uninjured?” 

 

“Fine.  I’m fine,” he hastily answered, his words slightly slurred with last vestiges of sleep.  Recollection slowly replacing the haze in his brain, Jonathan shrugged away her concern, and her help - trying salvage a little of his pride as he clumsily rose to his feet. “Did you need something?”

 

Smirking beneath her burqa, Najat stepped back, giving him more room to maneuver. “It is time to go.”

 

“Oh, right, of course, time to go,” Jonathan mumbled in response and stumbled toward the door.  Colliding solidly with Johari, he tripped over his own feet and, abruptly, found himself sitting on the foot of the bed, provoking a grimace of pain from Ardeth. 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be holding up the other door?”  Jonathan quipped, wary, even in a sleepy daze, of the foreboding Abadi warrior.

 

“There is no longer a need, as we are all in this room,” Najat distractedly answered for her warrior.

 

“Huh?  Where…?”  Jonathan began to ask, trying to rub the stubborn bits of sleep from his eyes.  Najat glanced over and sighed, wishing the Englishman would finish waking up.

 

“Muhannad and Samih escort Zaynab and Widad to the home of the O’Connell’s, so that they may assure them of their son’s safety, ” she explained, waiting, this time, for a reply.

 

“Oh!  Right.  Carry on, then.  We should get going, too.  Don’t you think?”  Jonathan stammered.  Nearly fully awake, he stood and, self-consciously, shoved his hands into his pockets.

 

“Yes.  That would be wise,” Najat replied, almost patiently, before turning her attention to Alex.  She frowned as she noticed the child’s scrapped knees and hand.   The injuries weren’t serious, but should have been tended to all the same.  Najat sighed softly, aware that there wasn’t time to do so at the moment; it would have to wait until they were on the plane.  

 

“Child...Alex,” she softly intoned.

 

“Mmfflllummp,” Alex replied, rolling onto his side.

 

About to try again, Najat hesitated, tempted to let him sleep.  She or Jonathan could easily carry the child.  However, Najat could see that he’d been disturbed enough by the jostling mattress to teeter on the brink of waking, and suspected that it would only upset him if anyone attempted to pick him up. Gently caressing his cheek, she tried again.

 

“You must wake, Alex.  It is time to leave.”

 

“Huh?”  Alex snorted, startling at her touch and looking up with bleary eyes.  After a second, he remembered where he was and sat up.  He paused to rub the sleep from his eyes with his fists, then, glanced coherently at Najat.  “Time to go, is it?”

 

“Yes,” Najat replied, pleased the child had come around more quickly than his uncle.  Backing away as Alex climbed from the bed, she moved around to the other side to reawaken Ardeth.

 

“You put your burqa back on,” Alex observed. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?” he quizzed.

 

“I removed it because you are my guest.  To make you more comfortable, it was proper that I uncover.  However, now we are to venture out into the world, so it is proper that I be hidden once more.”

 

“Oh,” Alex replied, simply.  Najat bowed, slightly, and returned her focus to the Medjai.

 

“Ardeth.”  The sound of his name provoked no response from the soundly sleeping Medjai.  “Ardeth, you must wake.”

 

Still managing no response, Najat softly caressed one of his tattoos, hoping to rouse him from his dreams.   He woke, very abruptly and with a startled gasp.  “My apologies, but it is time to leave.”

 

Ardeth nodded, drowsily, and shifted to rise.  Although only slight, the movement was enough to provoke more pain.  Biting back a clipped moan, he closed his eyes to ride out the wave.  

 

“ARDETH!”  Alex shouted, rushing to the warrior’s side.  Najat grabbed him before he actually reached the bed, but it was close enough for Alex to notice how much weaker the warrior appeared.  Ardeth attempted to wave away the concern, but couldn’t quite muster the strength.

 

“I am all right, Alex.  It was simply unexpected,” he whispered, opening his eyes and managing a weak half-smile for the child. 

 

“If you would allow me to assist you, honor….” The Medjai sighed, reminding Najat of his earlier request.  “…Ardeth.”

 

As she spoke, Najat signaled Johari to come closer.  As weak as he’d grown, the rather large Medjai would be hardly more than dead weight. She didn’t doubt that she could get him to his feet, but was unsure her strength would be sufficient to support him as they moved.

 

“There is no need.  I can manage,” Ardeth croaked, weakly, but firmly. 

 

Waving away the Abadi’s offer of assistance, he bit his lip and balled his fists, before attempting to move, determined to do a better job of hiding his discomfort this time.  With the deepest breath he could manage, Ardeth eased himself over until he sat on the edge of the mattress.   He smiled a little as he rested there.  With his four of traveling companion hovering around him, it pleased the warrior that he’d made no sound that would betray his weakness.   Taking another deep breath, Ardeth attempted to rise, but found, to his chagrin, that his legs were not feeling as cooperative as his voice.   As they crumpled beneath his weight, four sets of hands reached out to catch him.

 

“I am fine,” Ardeth commented, preemptively, before sighing in frustration.  His words did little to convince anyone, however, and three of the four sets of hands continued to grip him as Johari shifted to pull the Medjai’s arm over his shoulders. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Jonathan quipped, as he and Najat let go.  “Of course you are.  Just peachy.”   

 

Ardeth ignored the Englishman, choosing, instead, to focus on the child anxiously slipping a hand into his. 

 

“All will be well, young O’Connell.  Do not worry,” he whispered.  Glancing up, Alex attempted a reassuring smile, not wanting Ardeth to waste any energy worrying about him.  Ardeth smiled, weakly, in return, but it turned into a grimace as the group began to move. 

 

oOoOoOo

 

“RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!”

 

O’Connell bolted upright as the panicked scream ripped him from a very pleasant dream.  He was alert, on his feet, and halfway to the door by the time Evy flew through it. 

 

“THEY’RE GONE!”  She shouted, as Rick’s mouth opened to ask her what was wrong.

 

“Who?”  Was what he ended up uttering.

 

“WHO?!” his wife responded, looking at him as though he were the village idiot.  “ALEX AND ARDETH!”

 

“Please, stop shouting, Evy,” Rick pleaded, firmly of the opinion that it was way too early for that sort of volume.   “You’re gonna wake the dead.”

 

“CALM DOWN?!”  Evy responded, earning a disapproving glare from her husband.   Throwing her hands up in exasperation, she earnestly tried to speak more softly.  “How can I calm down?  Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

 

Rick frowned, shaking his head as he replied, calmly.  “The whole house heard what you just said.”

 

“How can you be so calm about this!?”

 

Rick sighed; it was also way too early for hysterics.  “All right, Alex and Ardeth aren’t in their room, right?”

 

“EXACTLY!”  Evy responded, relieved that he was finally starting to grasp the alarming development.   However, she found it more than a little disconcerting that he still appeared calm.   ‘He’s in shock,’ she finally decided.

 

“Well, let’s think about this for a second.  Alex is eight – a handful, yeah, but, still, just a kid.  And Ardeth, well, Ardeth can barely even sit up.  How far away could they be?”

 

Evy’s brow wrinkled as she considered Rick’s annoyingly rational argument.    She realized he was right, of course.  They couldn’t have gone far.   Still, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a problem.  Ardeth had no business being up and around.   Anything could happen!   He could pass out, injuring himself further as he fell, or even just trip and reopen his wounds.  Evy gasped as another possibility crossed her mind - the stairs.   He’d never make to the bottom on his feet in the condition he was in, and another fall down them might just kill him.  Turning abruptly, Evy fled from the room, without explanation, and raced toward the stairs.

 

“ALEX!  ARDETH!  WHERE ARE YOU!  ANSWER ME!”

 

Pausing just long enough to throw on some pants, Rick flew out the door after his wife.    He slammed, painfully, into Dr. Hamilton, who looked a little bleary-eyed, but alarmed.

 

“We seemed to have lost your patient,” Rick informed the physician, before he could ask. 

 

Dr. Hamilton’s eyebrow rose.  “Lost?”

 

Rick shrugged.  “Apparently they aren’t where she left them.”

 

The physician’s brow wrinkled with concern and disapproval.   Between the blood loss and fever, it seemed doubtful Ardeth could stay on his feet more than a few minutes, if that, before collapsing.   When that happened, he would certainly rip out some of his stitches, at the very least.  Dr. Hamilton had no particular desire to re-stitch the wounds again.  Nor did he relish the idea of having to tend to any new injuries his patient might incur.  Swearing softly under his breath, he wondered where an eight-year old and a gravely-injured Arab might go in the middle of the night. 

 

“Did she check the washroom?”  He inquired of his host.  Rick smirked, doubtful that anything that simple had crossed Evy’s mind.   Both men immediately headed towards Ardeth’s room to check for themselves. 

 

“RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!”

 

O’Connell darted out of the washroom and into the hallway.  Not expecting him to emerge from Ardeth’s room, Evy slid to a halt so abruptly that she lost her balance.  Latching on to Rick to steady herself, she glanced up, questioningly.

 

“We were checking the washroom,” he admitted.  Evy stared at him for moment, and Rick worried she might yell at him.  When she frowned sheepishly, instead, he realized his suspicion had been correct.  She hadn’t checked the washroom yet.

 

“You found them?” Evy looked up at him, a spark of hope lighting her eyes.  Rick shook his head.

 

“Rick!  Where could they be?!  I’ve searched everywhere – upstairs and down.  They’re simple NOT HERE!”  She cried, growing desperate.   

 

“They couldn’t have gone far,” Dr. Hamilton muttered, distractedly, wandering out of the guest room in search of Rick.  “ ‘He’ certainly couldn’t have gone far on his own, and Alex is much too small to have supported him.”

 

As Rick listened to the physician’s reasoning, a sudden thought struck him, and his stomach dropped.  Glancing at Evy, he could tell by the look on her face the same thing had occurred to her. 

 

“JONATHAN!!”  They shouted, simultaneously.  Rick held onto Evy’s arm as they dashed towards her brother’s apartment.  Throwing open the door, the couple split up to search.  It didn’t take long to confirm their suspicions.  

 

“I’m gonna wring his neck,” Rick grumbled, as he joined his wife back out in the hallway. 

 

“What on earth would have possessed him to…?” Dr. Hamilton mumbled, disbelievingly shaking his head as he joined the couple.   Rick just shook his head, disapprovingly. 

Evy sighed, glancing speculatively at her husband. Guessing what she was thinking, he frowned and shook his head with even more disapproval. 

 

“What?!”  Dr. Hamilton demanded, feeling acutely like he’d missed something along the way. 

 

“He better not have taken my car,” Rick grumbled, racing toward the stairs.

 

“Rick, Evelyn…?”  The physician persisted, following the couple downstairs. 

 

“Ardeth just showed out of the blue,” Evy explained, cryptically.

 

“Right.  And….,”  the physician prompted.

 

“He wouldn’t have done that unless he were here for a reason,” Rick explained, taking over for Evy.

 

“All right, he has business here in England.  Surely, it could be postponed.”  Still not grasping the significance, the physician began to feel a bit thick.  

 

“Likely, it couldn’t be,” Evy began to explain, but was distracted.  “Rick!”

 

Both Rick and Dr. Hamilton followed her gaze to the front door. 

 

“Friends of yours, I hope,” the physician muttered, slightly awestruck at the sight of the two silver-clad, Arabic-looking warriors and two burqa-shrouded, presumably, Arabic women standing just inside the entryway.

 

“Only one way to find out,” Rick quipped, before turning toward his wife and growing very serious.  “Perhaps you and the Doc should wait here.” 

 

“Richard O’Connell, if you think you’re leaving me here while you go…..” 

 

Rick threw a hand up, pleadingly.  “All right, all right.  At least let me go first?”

 

Evy nodded and watched her husband warily approach the strangers. 

 

“Um, hello, name’s O’Connell.  Please, don’t hesitate to invite yourselves into my house,” Rick quipped, sarcastically. “Now, who are you and what do you want?”

 

One of the warriors tossed something that Rick reflexively caught.  Looking down at what he held, his face reddened. 

 

“My keys?!”  He bellowed.  “When I get my hands on that little….”

 

“I am sorry.  We assumed you would be pleased to have your vehicle returned,” one of the women explained. 

 

“He is,” Evy clarified, stepping in front of her husband.  “He just has a funny way of showing it.”

 

The woman nodded, politely. 

 

“I’m Evelyn O’Connell.  And you are?”  She prompted, hoping for better results than her husband. 

 

“I am Zaynab.  We are of the Abadi.”

 

“Assalamu ‘alaykum,” Evy greeted, respectfully. 

 

“Wa ‘alaykum assalam,” Zaynab replied, with a slight bow. 

 

“Niceties out of the way, how ‘bout you explain what you’re doing here, besides returning my car,” Rick demanded, stepping to the side of his wife.

 

“Rick,” Evy hissed, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye.

 

“We bring word of your son,” Zaynab announced, ignoring Rick’s impudence.

 

“Alex!  Where is he?”  Evy overenthusiastically lunged forward, startling one of the warriors, who protectively stepped in front of Zaynab.

 

‘Whoa there, big guy!”  Rick defensively stepped in front of Evy. 

 

Zaynab moved from behind the warrior, waving away his concern as he warily glanced at her. 

 

“Please, we do not wish trouble between us,” she pleaded. 

 

Chagrined, Evy pulled her husband back.  “’Asfa.  I didn’t mean to startle, uh, him.”

 

“He is Muhannad,” Zaynab informed them.  

 

Evy smiled, appreciatively.   “I didn’t mean to startle Muhannad.”

 

Zaynab bowed, slightly.  “Of course not.  You are worried for your son, but you need not.  He is safe and well.”

 

Evy breathed a sigh of relief.   Feeling Rick squeeze her arm slightly, she glanced over and, unexpectedly, found worry still clouding his eyes.   It took a moment for her to realize why. 

 

“He’s safe and well, but not with you, is he?”  Rick questioned, drawing Evy closer to him, as she began to tremble.  

 

Zaynab ducked her head, confirming his suspicion.

 

“Where is he, then?!”  Evy wailed.  “Why are you keeping him from us?!”

 

Rick tensed as Muhannad flinch in reaction to Evy’s tone.  However, Zaynab placed a gentle hand on the warrior’s arm, stilling him.

 

“You misunderstand,” she explained, calmly.  “We do not ‘keep’ him; he refused to return.”

 

Rick raised an eyebrow, as Evy frowned.

 

“What do you mean ‘he refused to return’?” She asked, warily.

 

“Ardeth Bey insisted the child return home, but the child threatened to follow on his own if not allowed to stay by his side,” Zaynab explained, patiently.

 

“Alex…,”  Evy hissed under her breath. 

 

Rick shook his head, smirking.  “Yeah, that sounds like our son.”

 

“You’re certain he’s safe?”  Evy questioned, anxiously. 

 

“My people will watch him closely.  I assure you no harm will befall him,” Zaynab soothed. 

 

“Keeping an eye on Alex isn’t as easy as it sounds,” Rick muttered, peevishly.  “So, how ‘bout you tell us exactly where Ardeth is taking our son, and, I assume, Jonathan?” 

 

“You assume correctly.  The Englishman also travels with our honored Medjai guest.”

 

“To…,”  he prompted. 

 

“Patience, Rick,” Evy softly chastised, afraid he’d offend the Abadi before they found out where Alex was.  

 

“Do not worry, Evelyn O’Connell.  We take no offense,” Zaynab assured, realizing the Englishwoman’s concern.  “My people escort Ardeth Bey and his guests to Cairo.   From there, they will travel to our village, where it is hoped you may be reunited.” 

 

“Wouldn’t it have been simpler to travel together?” Evy asked.

 

“Yes, that would have been preferable, but our guest could not be delayed any longer,” Zaynab explained.  “Even now, it is feared there is not sufficient time to complete the journey.”

 

“What do you mean?”  Evy responded, her wariness increasing.

 

Zaynab didn’t immediately answer, taking a moment to study the O’Connells. 

 

“Please, if Alex is heading into trouble, you must tell us,” Evy pleaded, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach.

 

Zaynab held up a hand, gesturing for calm.  “I assure you, your son is in no danger.”

 

“So why the hurry,” Rick quizzed, reflexively tightening his hold on Evy.

 

“As you are surely aware, Ardeth Bey is…unwell.”  Evy winced, guiltily, but Zaynab choose to ignore it. 

 

“Yes, quite,” Dr. Hamilton affirmed, abruptly jumping into the conversation.  “Much too unwell to travel.  Oh, my apologies, Dr. Ian Hamilton.”

 

‘”Doctor,” Zaynab greeted, with a small bow.  “Yes, our own healer is of the same opinion.  However, it could not be avoided.” 

 

“But surely, a few days wouldn’t…,”  the physician began protest, but Zaynab interrupted. 

 

“The journey could not be delayed.”

 

“Yes, you mentioned that,” Evy commented, impatiently.   “But why can’t it be?  What’s going to happen?”

 

Zaynab took a deep breath, before reluctantly answering.  “It cannot be delayed because Ardeth Bey is too weak to battle the fever that plagues him.”

 

“Exactly why it should be delayed,” Dr. Hamilton insisted.

 

Zaynab sighed.  “You do not understand.”

 

“Well you’re dead on there,” the physician grumbled.

 

“Perhaps you can help us to understand,” Evy mediated, clinging to Rick, as a queasy feeling tickled her stomach.

 

“It is not difficult to understand,” Zaynab replied. “Only to accept.”

 

“Wait just a minute!” Rick suddenly understood. “You’re saying he couldn’t wait for us because he’s dying.”

 

Zaynab responded with a clipped nod.  “Indeed, it is feared that, before many days have passed, his soul will free itself from his body.  His task must be completed before this happens.”

 

“Oh…,”  Evy gasped, tearfully, tightening her grip on her husband.

 

“What is this task, exactly?”  Rick demanded, more harshly than intended. 

 

“I am forbidden to say,” the Abadi replied, softly.

 

“By whom?”  Came a cool response. 

 

“By Ardeth Bey,” she answered, provoking a long string of profanity from the American. 

 

“Ardeth, what are you up to?”  Evy muttered under her breath, as her husband vented.

 

“It will all be made clear in time,” Zaynab soothed. “Now, if you would gather your luggage.  We must arrange transportation.”

 

“Sounds like my cue to go,” Dr. Hamilton commented, with resignation, feeling summarily dismissed as Evy and Rick scrambled to pack.

 

“You are welcome to journey with us, Doctor,” Zaynab stated, seeing a frown on the physician’s face. 

 

“No, thank you…um…Zaynab.”  She bowed to acknowledge his sincere attempt at her name.  “As sorely tempting as it is, I doubt it would make my wife very happy. Um…ma a sally ma.”

 

“Ma’assalema, tabeeb,” Zaynab replied, grinning beneath her burqa.

 

oOoOoOo

 

"You are weary; you should rest," Najat remarked, kneeling on the floor in front Alex.    

 

Focused on the Medjai sleeping soundly in the seat next to him, Alex didn't bother to answer.  He was certain he'd never seen anyone so pale or so still, except, perhaps when his mum... "No, don't think about that," he whispered to himself.  "Ardeth isn't dead; he's just sleeping."

 

"Of course he is only sleeping." 

 

Unaware that he'd spoken aloud, Najat's response startled Alex.  Regaining his voice, he replied,  "yes, ma'am."

 

Alex continued to stare at her, wanting to ask if Ardeth was getting better, and have Najat say that he was.  But he knew she wouldn't - because Ardeth wasn't getting better.  Sighing, Alex turned his head toward the Medjai, reluctant to look away again, even when he felt a gentle hand wrap around his leg and hold it in place, as a soft touch tended his scrapes.

 

"Do not grieve for him yet, child," Najat whispered, seeing the sadness in his face. "You cannot be certain of what the future will bring." 

 

Alex hesitantly turned to face her, again.  His chin quivering, he responded, tearfully. 

 

"He's so sick."

 

"Yes. He is very ill," Najat replied, matter-of-factly.  Surprised by her bluntness, Alex stared at her, aghast.   

 

"You would have me deny what you already know to be truth?"  She asked, rhetorically, glancing up, briefly, as she switched knees.  Alex shrugged and turned his head toward Ardeth again. He'd known she wouldn't lie, but had expected something more soothing than that.

 

"He's too sick." 

 

Najat barely heard the child's soft whisper. 

 

"And who decides this?" she queried.  Looking at her, Alex shrugged again. 

 

"He's just so weak."  To his surprise surprised, Alex heard the Abadi chuckle.

 

"I would not allow Ardeth Bey to hear you call him weak."

 

Alex made a face.  "You know what I mean!"

 

"Yes, child," Najat admitted.  "He is weary - both in body and soul."

 

"What do you mean?"  Alex asked.  His brow furrowing, he puzzled over the words she'd chosen.    Silently, Najat reached for his scraped hand, but Alex pulled it away.  "Najat?"

 

"I mean just as I have said," she stated, patiently.  "The toll of his recent battle weighs heavily on both his body and his soul; perhaps the weight is too much for Ardeth Bey to continue to carry." 

 

Alex's lip trembled as he grasped that the battle she referred to was against the Army of Anubis.  It had been fought because he'd put on the bracelet and led the way to Ahm Shere...but everything had turned out all right.  At least, that was what he'd told himself as he waved farewell to Ardeth from Izzy's balloon.  It had been easy to ignore the Medjai's tattered clothing and the streaks of blood and dirt, because Ardeth had obviously survived - so no more thought had been given to it.  Ardeth had risked everything to save him; then, they'd just floated away and left him without even wondering what had happened outside the pyramid.  Turning his head to watch Ardeth sleep, tears welled in his eyes as he grasped that everything had not turned out all right - not for the Medjai.

 

"He is too sick, isn't he?  Too tired?"

 

"Do not grieve yet, Alex O'Connell," Najat soothed, as tears trickled onto the child's cheeks.   He didn't resist a second time as she reached for his injured hand and gently tended it.  "Strength surrounds him, he need only accept it." 

 

Unable to figure out what she meant, Alex's brow furrowed, again.  Between the steady vibration of the plane and Najat's soothing voice, his eyes were finding it hard to stay open, so he closed them while he thought it over, and slowly drifted to sleep.     

 

Jonathan quickly closed eyes as Najat stood and walked past his seat.  The volume of the conversation had been kept low enough to make it clear she'd intended it for his nephew's ears only, so he didn't want her to realize he'd listened.  Jonathan knew there was more to it than embarrassment, however.  He had heard something in her tone...something he could pin down exactly, but it made him nervous.   He wanted time to figure it out before talking to her again.   

 

oOoOoOo

 

Growing weary of the scenery, Evy turned away from the window and fondly studied her sleeping husband.  She knew it was his way of escaping the frustrated, helpless feeling gnawing at both of them as the Clipper crawled toward Cairo, hours behind the plane carrying Ardeth and their son.  Evy dearly long to escape into oblivion as well, but her brain wouldn't stop spinning long enough to let her.  Stretching, she decided to try distracting herself and pulled the journal from her bag.   It didn't take long to find her spot, but instead of starting the next entry, Evy felt a sudden urge to reread what she read earlier that morning.  So much had happened in the few hours in between, those peaceful moments in the kitchen seemed like a dream.  She wanted to be certain they hadn't been. 

 

"Allah be praised!  Ardeth's fever has broken at last.  It happened very late in the night, just as it seemed death had finally, mercifully, arrived to claim him.  He'd struggled for so many hours, there seemed no strength left, of body or will, and then he'd grown so still, even Fathi was certain that Ardeth has passed.  He could not bring himself to reach out to him, for fear of confirming it.  Neither could I.  But dear, steady Badi'a did.  I could hardly believe her words when she said he still lived and his fever had relented.  Ardeth has not awoken, but it matters not.  Once again, we dare hope.  It is a great gift from Allah."

 

Evy unconsciously sighed with relief.  Even a second time, the words seemed almost magical - as though it were her Ardeth it spoke of, and he couldn't die, because the journal said he didn't.  She knew it was silly, but some of the tension released from her muscles, all the same.  Settling back, a smile graced Evy's lips as she continued on to the next passage.

 

"Allah be merciful, I no longer know what to pray.  It seemed a great gift had been given us when Ardeth's fever finally broke, but that fever has so devastated his body that I dare not assume my nephew can recover.  That he will continue to live is not even certain.  And I know not whether to pray that for his life or pray that Allah mercifully allows his soul to join his family in Paradise.  Fathi speaks as though his brother were likely to bound up from his bed at any moment, and Badi'a, always so steady, is adamant in her belief that Ardeth will recover, but Dabir - oh, my brother! - will not even enter the tent.  Instead, he continually rides with the patrols, almost refusing to even show his face in camp.  It is clear that he grieves for his heir as though the fever had claimed him, as we all believed it would.  Perhaps it yet will....

 

Ardeth has not woken for more than a few precious minutes at a time and seems hardly aware of anything even then.  Perhaps Allah is merciful in this, for I cannot be certain that he knows of Dabir's absence.  I know it would grieve my nephew to know of it, for he and Dabir have always enjoyed a great closeness.  But for the moment, it likely matters not as I am certain that he could not see his father were he here.  Badi'a behaves as though she has not noticed, but Fathi has.  I clearly saw the fear in his eyes when Ardeth first awoke, even greater fear than when it seemed certain his brother breathed his last breaths.   There is no light in Ardeth's eyes.  No sign of any kind that they see anything at all.   Nor am I certain that he hears us, for he reacts not at all to our voices.   Badi'a will not speak of it.  Fathi speaks only in jests, taunting his brother for his laziness, but there is fear in his voice.  It is the same fear that dwells in my heart.  The fear that Ardeth's soul clung so desperately to body that is too devastated to serve him any longer.  What life will there be for him?”

 

Evy didn't realize she was trembling until the tears trickled onto her cheeks.  She raised a shaky hand to wipe them away.  Taking a deep, hiccuppy breath to steady herself, she closed her eyes, then the journal, and let her head rest against Rick's shoulder.  Her mind couldn't even fathom that her Ardeth could ever be as physically weak as the words described, but her heart grieved for the journal Ardeth.   She didn't even bother to tell herself she shouldn't.  The words had caught her too unprepared to react any other way.  Evy'd been so certain it was over - that the journal Ardeth had recovered, and so her Ardeth would recover.  It was all over!  But it wasn't.  Spent by the surge of emotion and seeking comfort, Evy snuggled into her husband and let herself drift off to sleep.    

 

oOoOoOo

 

Ardeth dug his fingers into his palms in an attempt to ride out a particularly bad stretch of turbulence. He'd have groaned if the pain from the first bounce hadn't robbed him of breath.  Struggling for short, desperate gasps of air, the Medjai settled for biting his lip, until the bouncing mercifully stopped, and he could get enough of a breath make the sound.  He then repeated it as a wave of dizziness washed over him.  His knuckles turned white as he tightened his fists in an attempt to fight off the nausea that followed. It slowly rose up his throat despite his efforts, and he realized it was a losing the battle. 

 

"You must try to relax; it will ease if you do." 

 

Ardeth barely heard Najat's whisper as a wondrously cool cloth chased away the nausea, and the unbearable flush of heat that had risen with it.   Tension seeped away from his body as the gentle caress worked its way down his neck and to the upper part of his chest.   Lulled almost back to sleep, the Medjai nearly groaned as the cloth suddenly pulled away.  He forced his reluctant eyelids open, but Najat wasn't there, and he wondered if it had been a dream.  To be certain, he turned his head slightly to look for her, but let it drop back against the seat as the dizziness came swirling back.  Less severe than before, it was still enough to make the Medjai reluctant to move again, but his neck was twisted awkwardly, making it necessary to shift, at least a little. Ardeth took a deep breath and bit his lip as he tried not to move his head while he very carefully shifted his shoulders nearer into alignment with his neck.  Unintentionally angling himself toward Alex, he watched the child sleeping soundly, amazed that the turbulence hadn't woken him.  

 

"He guarded you very valiantly before sleep claimed him."

 

Engulfed within a thickening haze, it seemed to Ardeth that Najat appeared out of nowhere, and he flinched.  She frowned as the movement provoked a soft hiss.

 

"My apologies..."

 

Ardeth weakly waved away her concern, although he didn't quite manage to lift his hand out of his lap.  

 

"May I place this beneath your robe?" Najat inquired, nonchalantly. 

 

Ardeth noticed the ice pack in her hand and nodded, slightly.   He had to bite his lip to keep from hissing as it pressed against his wound, but he dutifully draped a weak hand across it to keep it in place, more or less.  Wearily closing his eyes, Ardeth noticed a familiar scent wafting within reach of his senses.  The aroma brought a slight smile to the Medjai's lips, and he opened his to see Najat holding a cup.   His smile broadened.   He'd forgotten the Abadi had with them the means to lessen his misery. 

 

Beneath her burqa, Najat frowned at the fog she saw in his eyes, worrying that the Medjai was fading too quickly.   She knew there was little more she could do than ease his pain.  The infection had grown too strong for the medicines she had brought with her, making it Ardeth's battle to fight alone.  Still, Najat hoped she could at least provide him with an easier sleep - as much as possible seated in the bumpy, uncomfortable craft.  Kneeling, she didn't waste time formally asking his permission before bringing the mixture of herbs to his lips.   His eyes were already drooping closed as she pulled the cup away.

 

"Sleep well, my friend," Najat whispered, silently backing away.

 

Already feeling the effect of the medicine spreading throughout his miserable body, Ardeth smiled at the slip in her formal demeanor and sleepily replied.  

 

"Thank...you...Na...jat."

 

Najat smiled.  She was uncertain what he was thanking her for, but it didn't really matter.  Creeping away, she softly prayed the Medjai would have the strength to accomplish his task.

 

oOoOoOo

 

Evy jolted awake as the plane hit a bad stretch of turbulence.  Glancing at her husband, she saw him stir, then settle back to sleep with an ease that made her shake her head, disbelievingly.   Sighing, Evy stretched her cramped muscles, sending the journal tumbling from her lap onto the floor.  It sparked a flood of emotion that left her trembling as she remembered what she'd read.  It made her hesitate briefly, before reaching down to pick up the book.  Closing her eyes for a moment, Evy whispered to herself that she might as well read more; it couldn't possible get any worse.   After all, even if the journal Ardeth died, he was in such misery that it would almost be a blessing. Flicking the silly thought away with a quick shake of her head, Evy opened her eyes and chuckled at herself. The journal Ardeth couldn't die...because her Ardeth didn't die.

 

"Keep your wits about you, Evelyn. This is no time to let your imagination get the better of you," she softly chided herself.   Shaking her head disapprovingly, Evy flipped open the journal.  It surprised her a little to see the next entry dated nearly two weeks after the last one.  

 

“Thanks be to Allah, my nephew begins to improve.  The past few days, Ardeth has woken for several hours at a time.  There is still no light in his eyes, but he responds now to our voices, although he still does not speak.  Whether it is because he lacks the ability or the will, I do not know.  He is still too weak to do more than lie in his bed.   Perhaps we will hear his voice again after more of his strength has returned.  It is my fear, however, that it is his will that is lacking.  My brother still will not see his son, and I am certain now that Ardeth is aware of his father's absence.  I see despair in his face each time his bed is approached and it is not Dabir that speaks, but he puts on a brave face for Badi'a and Fathi.   

 

Their father's absence has not diminished Badi'a and Fathi's devotion to their brother.  Of this, I am certain.   Many times each day they exercise his arms and legs for him, in the hope it will help them grow stronger.  Ardeth seems to find some pleasure is this exercise, but perhaps it is only a mask he wears for them.  I have noticed my nephew appears very downcast once they are finished and he believes they have left his side.  Perhaps, his expression of pleasure is genuine, but it is the company of his brother and sister, and not the activity that pleases him.  These past two days, I have noticed he increasingly responds to their presence.  It gives my heart hope that he might yet recover.” 

 

The page ended, and Evy nearly screamed from the anticipation as she eagerly flipped to the next.  Her eyes skimmed over the date without really registering it.  It didn't really matter any more.  She only cared how the story played out, not how long it took to do it.  Oblivious to anything else, Evy continued. 

 

“My heart grows lighter each day as Ardeth continues to improve. He remains confined to his bed and still does not appear to see, nor does he speak, but each day more of my nephew's will returns.  I know this because Ardeth makes it known to us.  He answers yes or no with his head when he is being tended to, and often make faces that express astonishingly well what he cannot speak.  It do not believe that Badi'a draws as much pleasure from this as Fathi and I.  It seems a great irritation to my niece that he shakes his head 'no' much more than he nods 'yes' and gives her quite unmistakable looks of displeasure when she does not heed.  Badi'a chides him often for being difficult, and this is when I can most believe my nephew will once again be as he was - for when Badi'a curses him, it always brings a smirk to his lips.  It is with this simple expression that I am no longer able to doubt my nephew returns to us, although it is with painful slowness.”  

 

Evy paused, trying to imagine Ardeth communicating only with expressions.  The attempt made her chuckle softly.   It was difficult to imagine the stoic Medjai anyway other than just that - stoic.   Continuing to read, Evy pondered that she would have enjoyed meeting the journal Ardeth.  He seemed like quite the amazing individual. 

 

“Although I, myself, was never afflicted, I was struck today by how much the fever has altered me.  It was a little thing that brought about this realization.  Today, Ardeth sat up. It doesn't not seem like I great thing as I write it here.  Indeed, Badi'a often sits him up when he is awake.  But today, Ardeth sat himself up and would not allow Badi'a to lay him back down for nearly the entire day. Although his stubbornness greatly vexed his sister, the momentous event brought enormous joy to both myself and Fathi.  It seems odd that such a small thing could bring so much happiness.  I do not believe I would always have appreciated so little a sign of progress, but the fever has opened my eyes to the enormity of even small gains. 

 

It pains me that the joy of the day was marred not only by Dabir's continued neglect, but increasingly Fathi's.  Ardeth still does not see, a condition I fear we must learn to accept.”

 

Caught unprepared, Evy had to paused.  The possibility that the journal Ardeth wouldn't get his sight back had never occurred to her.  Closing her eyes, she remembered her Ardeth - in their parlor not so long ago, his scimitar flying as he fought her attackers.  Evy found it impossible to picture her Ardeth blind.  Shaking away the image, she opened her eyes and began the paragraph again.

 

“It pains me that the joy of the day was marred not only by Dabir's continued neglect, but increasingly Fathi's.  Ardeth still does not see, a condition I fear we must learn to accept. Despite this, his seeming awareness of all around him often astonishes me. As does his ever increasing ability to express this awareness without words.  He has not spoken, yet, but I clearly see a difference in him as Fathi's visits grow less frequent.  His brother's playful teasing greatly lifted Ardeth's spirits.  But more than this, I believe it is the reason for his brother's absence that discourages Ardeth.  None of us have spoken of it, and yet the distress is so clearly visible each time Fathi departs that I have little doubt Ardeth knows his younger brother has taken on the duties of the eldest son.  My nephew shows no resentment towards Fathi.  In fact, Ardeth is so adept at hiding his distress, I do not believe Fathi sees the change in him. However, Badi'a sees it, as do I.  I pray this discouragement will not slow his recovery, but I fear it already does, for I sense growing resignation within him.” 

 

Evy shook her head, softly cursing Dabir.  His treatment of the journal Ardeth seemed cruel to her.   Too angry to read on, Evy sat the journal in her lap and curled up against her husband for another nap. 

 

oOoOoOo

 

Alex jerked awake.  Disoriented, his gaze roamed until it landed on Najat, kneeling in front of Ardeth's seat.  Settling back, he watched her bathe the sweat from the sleeping Medjai and noticed, glumly, that Ardeth looked even worse.   He was still pale, but beneath it, his skin seemed to glow with an increasing flush - making the Medjai look almost unnatural.  The thought made Alex shudder.

 

"Ah, Alex," Najat greeted, softly, the child's shiver drawing her attention briefly away from Ardeth.  "It is good you are awake.  I believe Johari is greatly in need of rescue."

 

Alex tossed her a skeptical glance.  The imposing Abadi warrior didn't seem the sort to ever need rescuing, especially by an eight year old.  Amused by his bewilderment, Najat smiled and continued. 

 

"You're uncle awoke some time ago and decided to pass the time with cards.   With you asleep, he had little choice but to play with Johari.  This is not a common pastime among the Abadi; I fear your uncle grows eager for a more skilled partner."

 

Alex twisted around and glanced toward Jonathan.  Grinning, the child watched his obviously frustrated uncle attempting to explain some rule or another to an obviously bewildered Johari.   Chuckling as he hopped from his seat, Alex wandered back to where the two men sat. 

 

Najat smiled as she watched Alex go.  She knew Johari would appreciate the opportunity to escape the Englishmen.  But more importantly, Jonathan would be able to distract his nephew from Ardeth's worsening condition. 

 

oOoOoOo

 

Evy's heart jumped into her throat as she glanced around the familiar camp.  One tent in particular pulled at her with magnetic force.  She didn't want to look, but found she had no choice.  Her head was turning, her eyes were opening, she was looking, and there was nothing she could do to stop herself.    A scream of frustration rose up her throat as she felt her feet moving her forward.  SHE DIDN'T WANT TO GO IN!  She didn't want to see him die, again, or see him blind and helpless, or see the horrible anguish that had been on his face when he'd held the dead child in his arms - but her hand was reaching forward to push aside the tent flap.  She was going in....looking around....seeing Ardeth....he was.....

 

Evy nearly jolted out of her seat as a hand touched her, waking her from her nightmare.  Her eyes flying open, she started at the sight of an Abadi women crouched in front of her, gesturing for quiet.  Disoriented, Evy's brow furrowed, and the woman gestured toward Rick, still sleeping peacefully in the neighboring seat.   Evy nodded and closed her eyes.  Settling back against headrest, she tried to force away the tension leftover from the nightmare.

 

"Are you all right?"  the woman asked, in a soft whisper.

 

"Zaynab?"  Evy questioned, opening her eyes again. 

 

The Abadi ducked her head in a slight bow.  "Yes, it is I."

 

"Um, yes.  I'm fine," Evy smiled appreciatively the Abadi.  "I was...it was just an unpleasant dream."

 

"You wish to speak of it?"  Zaynab inquired, supportively.

 

"No.  It was silly," Evy answered, shaking her head.  "I'm fine, really."

 

Zaynab nodded and, hesitantly, returned to her seat across the aisle.  Noticing the Abadi continued glancing her direction, Evy smiled, reassuringly, then, reached into her lap for the journal.  Flipping it opened, she skimmed to where she'd left off.  There was a new date, telling her time has passed between entries, but Evy'd long since stopped keeping track of the days.  Ignoring it, she read on.

 

"I know not how to react.  It seems just as I have come to accept that Ardeth's sight would not return; there are signs that it does.   Badi'a noticed before I, during one of their many short walks together.   I was not easily convinced of the truth of it, for there is but the slightest change in my nephew's behavior.  But as I walked with them this afternoon, I saw subtle signs that he again perceives at least light and motion.  To eliminate any doubt, I asked my nephew, and Ardeth confirmed with the slightest of nods that is the case.  I do not understand why he made no attempt to communicate this good news to us.  Perhaps it is because the gain is so slight and his discouragement so great, that he cannot see the enormity of his progress.  I pray to Allah for guidance in choosing the right words of council to raise his spirits." 

 

Torn between anger at Dabir and relief in the journal Ardeth's improvement, Evy trembled, slightly.  Closing her eyes, she took a couple deep breaths to settle herself.  About to open them again, Evy hesitated.  Everything was still so uncertain; she felt reluctant to risk reading more, at least for the moment.  It seemed that every time the situation appeared to be improving, the next entry sent it spiraling downward again. 

 

Closing the journal, Evy decided to enjoy the good news for bit, before discovering what new hardship awaited the journal Ardeth.  Tucking the journal away, she glanced around for something else with which to occupy her time.  Her eyes fell on Zaynab, quietly writing...something; Evy couldn't tell what.  Lazily watching the Abadi, a sudden realization struck her and flew out her mouth before she could stop it. 

 

"Zaynab, I've noticed that you seem to speak for your people; I would've expected Muhannad or ...that other fellow to do so."

 

"He is Samih," the Abadi politely informed her.

 

"Samih, then.  Its normal among your people for the women to speak, instead of the men?"  Evy prompted.

 

"Yes, this is the way of the Abadi."

 

"Why....um, I mean, how....,"  Evy stammered, not quite able to form her question. 

 

"The Abadi are a matriarchal tribe," Zaynab explained, patiently.

 

"A matriarchy?!"  Evy's brow furrowed.  The Abadi nodded.  "That's rather unusual amongst desert people, isn't it?"

 

"Perhaps," Zaynab replied, noncommittally, and attempted to return to her writing.  However, she could feel the Englishwoman staring curiously at her and, sighing, realized she would have to explain.  Najat had instructed that the O'Connells not be told of the weapons' curse, unless no other alternative could be found, so Zaynab hoped the short version of the story would satisfy Evy.  

 

"My people have not always been thus."

 

"Oh...." Sensing an imminent story, Evy turned sideway in her seat and made herself comfortable.     

 

"In ancient times, my people were as most of the tribes of the desert.  It was so until the time of the Devourer."

 

"The Devourer?"  Evy echoed, intrigued. "He sounds like an unpleasant sort of fellow."

 

"Indeed," Zaynab replied, with a soft chuckle.  "He was a very 'unpleasant fellow' from a far away land that sought to conquer the many tribes of the desert.   To accomplish his task, he brought with him two weapons blessed with the power of his gods:  a broadsword and a dagger."

 

"A broadsword and a dagger?"  Evy echoed, a nervous knot tying itself in her stomach.  Zaynab simply nodded and continued on.

 

"The power of these weapons allowed the 'fellow' to devour the soul of each victim he killed with them, and with each soul, he grew more powerful."

 

"Hence...the Devourer," Evy interrupted.   Zaynab nodded, politely. 

 

"It was not long before no army could stand against him.  The Devourer swept across the land claiming the wealth of the tribes he encountered, as well as, women to satisfy his bodily desires.   However, this could have been endured were it not for the many human sacrifices he required.  For he always desired more souls upon which to feed.  Many tribes fled deeper into the desert, but one young king would not see the land of his ancestors stolen from his people.  Nor, as many of his people were among the Devourer's victims, could he allow the souls of those devoured to forever be denied their place in Paradise.  Determined to stop the Devourer, the king turned to his priests, who told him he must inflict a mortal wound upon the Devourer, with the Devourer's own weapons."

 

"But if the Devourer couldn't be defeated, how was he to get the weapons?"  Evy quizzed, impatiently.  Engrossed in the tale, the nervous knot in her stomach dissipated.

 

"To separate the man from his weapons, the king sent to the Devourer, as a gift, his sister, for she was exceedingly beautiful," Zaynab answered.

 

"He gave him his sister?!"

 

"Indeed," Zaynab confirmed.

 

"B...but," Evy stammered, appalled.

 

"It was not without great consideration that the king did this.  No way other way could be found to get near enough to do what had to be done, for the Devourer would not think a woman to be a threat to one so powerful," the Abadi assured.   Evy nodded, although she continued to frown.  "The priest provided the princess powerful herbs which would make the Devourer sleep for many hours, although they would have killed all other men."

 

"So the princess slips it into his drink or something before he has his way with her," Evy speculated.   Zaynab nodded.

 

"As his emissary delivered his gift, the young king of the Abadi disguised himself as one of Devourer's warriors and entered the camp unnoticed.  Once the Devourer slept, the princess admitted the king into the tent.  Claiming the weapons, the young king pierced the heart of the Devourer, killing him.  Their task accomplished, brother and sister secreted away, weapons in hand.  The Devourer's army awoke in the morning to find their leader dead, but they had little time to mourn their general, for king, wielding the weapons, had returned with his army.  The warriors of the Devourer knew of the weapons' power and fled in terror."

 

"But what about the weapons' power?  Wouldn't the king have devoured the Devourer's soul?"  Evy questioned, her brow furrowing. 

 

"Indeed.  And with it, all the souls that the Devourer had taken," Zaynab clarified.

 

"So he did devour it."

 

"Yes, to his great misfortune," the Abadi confirmed.  "For once allowed to a drink of the sweet nectar of power, it is difficult to resist the temptation to drink again."

 

Evy raised a bemused eyebrow.

 

"You see, the power of the devoured souls coursed through the young king.   Having tasted of it, he found he craved more.  Yielding to temptation, he executed the many captured warriors of the Devourer with the weapons, claiming their souls.  His own soul corrupted, the young king sought ever more souls to feed upon."

 

"So the people are back where they'd started," Evy quipped.

 

"Sadly, that is correct."

 

"So, who stopped the king?"  Evy quizzed, certain that someone must have.

 

"His sister turned to the priest, seeking a way to stop her brother.  She was given the same advice the king had received.   Her heart filled with grief, she carried out what had to be, wielding the weapons in her own hands."

 

"But wait," Evy interrupted.  "Would that just start it all over again?"

 

"Indeed, as the young king died in her arms, the power of all the devoured souls coursed through her.   Frightened that she would become as he was, the princess mortally wounded herself with the Devourer's dagger."

 

"Ah, by killing herself, no one else could absorb the souls," Evy presumed.

 

"This was the plan, yes," Zaynab responded.  "But as the weapon sought to fulfill its duty, her departing soul was devoured by her dying body."

 

"She couldn't die!"

 

"She could not die by her own hand," Zaynab clarified.

 

"So what did she do?"  Evy queried, enraptured.

 

"The princess called for the priests, who prayed to the ancient gods.  They were given an amulet which would capture the princess's soul, allowing her body to die and all the devoured souls to find their proper place in the hereafter."

 

"Surely, there's a catch.  The ancient gods never let anyone off that easily," Evy quipped. 

 

"There was 'a catch', as your say," Zaynab replied, a hint of amusement in her voice, but she quickly grew serious, again.  "For the princess's soul could not travel onto Paradise.  Instead, it was to remain trapped within the amulet for all time, standing guard over the power of the weapons."

 

"Oooh!  The poor thing....,"  Evy whispered, mournfully.

 

"The princess, it is said, does not begrudge this duty, but embraces the opportunity to redeem her family and her people," Zaynab assured, then added, "because she was able to resist the corruption of her soul, and the king was not, their sister was chosen to lead the Abadi in the wake of their deaths."

 

"And your people have remained matriarchal ever since," Evy concluded.

 

"We have," the Abadi confirmed and turned returned to writing, hoping the Englishwoman would let the subject drop.  Not noticing, Evy's brow furrowed as she mulled over the story.

 

"Redeem her family how? What exactly is it that she does?"

 

Zaynab hesitated.

 

"Oh, please, you can't leave me hanging now," Evy whined.  The Abadi sighed, realizing the Englishwoman wasn't going to let it go.

 

"She frees the souls of any who are devoured," she explained, evasively.

 

"Frees them?  How?"

 

Again, Zaynab hesitated, then, reluctantly answered, "by destroying the soul of the one that has devoured it."

 

"Thank you for telling me," Evy offered, politely, sensing she pried all the information she could from the Abadi.   Zaynab bowed, slightly, and returned to her letter, as Evy righted herself in her seat.  The nervous knot in her stomach returned as she continued to ponder the story.  Deciding to distract herself from it, Evy opened the journal and glanced down.

 

"Allah be praised! Once again, I see enough light in my nephew's eyes to believe he truly sees once more, but any joy from this is dampened by the increasing despair I see in him.  It matters not that he does not speak.  I do not need words to know he is certain in his conviction that he has failed Dabir.  Both Badi'a and I remind him that he grows a little stronger each day.  He even begins to walk on his own, although not far.  Still, each shaky step is another small gain.   But he gains so very slowly, it is difficult for my nephew to belief, as Badi'a and I do with certainty, that he will again be what he was.  Dabir's determined absence does not help convince Ardeth of the truth of my words.  More and more, my brother depends on Fathi. It is easy to look through Ardeth's eyes and sees that he believes his father no longer considers him worthy to be his son.  How could he see otherwise?  Dabir not only refuses to see him, my brother will not even speak his name.  But I take heart that our people do not turn their backs on my nephew.  They still remember his strength when all seemed lost and continue to pray for its return."

 

Evy breathed an audible sigh of relief; the situation had not worsened, as expected.  Catching a movement out of the corner of her eye, she glanced up at Zaynab.  Having heard the sigh, the Abadi watched her, with concern in her eyes. 

 

"Just reading," Evy reassured.  Grinning, she showed Zaynab the journal in her hand.  "The hero didn't die, afterall...."

 

Although the Abadi didn't respond visibly, Evy got the definite impression that Zaynab was shrugging 'on the inside' as she turned her attention back to her letter.  Chuckling as she glanced back down, Evy heard Rick stir restlessly.  After he'd slept sounding for so many hours, it surprised her a little.  Instinctively, she closed the journal and snuggled against him.  Closing her eyes, she quickly slipped into a light sleep.