Title:  Passion - Chapter Fifteen – If They Saw What Those Eyes Have Seen

Rating:  PG13 for now
Author: Angela - [email protected] - http://geocities.com/saturnfiction
Summary:  Something’s bothering Ardeth.  Of course it’s never as simple as that.
Disclaimer:  No infringement intended.  I own Asenath, Drake, Samira, Mahmud, Abdu, Omar and Ali.
Prequel (which should be read to get this):  http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=654922&chapter=1
Codes:  Ardeth/Ancksunamun, Imhotep/Evy

*

The elder did not flinch back in fear at the drawn weapon, nor try to defend himself.  He wouldn’t.  A Med-Jai with the skill and season of this man need not fear the call of death.  “You come as an enemy, then.  As I knew you would.”  Rasheyd held up a small paper.  “I know of the supposed possession you suffer.  I know your whore has returned from the dead.  So you choose to turn your back on us, then?  As we turned our backs on you?”

There was no need for bantering.  His words were true and the point inarguable.  Ardeth cut right to the chase.  “Where is the Book of the Dead?”

“I won’t tell you,” Rasheyd answered simply, unmoving.  “Will you kill me for that?  You are nothing like your father.”

His fingers clenched around his scimitar as Ardeth let the notion pass through his judgment.  It would cut every tie he had left to these people, including Omar’s love for him.  He took a step forward and only then did Rasheyd display a small amount of alarm within the cool depths of his eyes, but he didn’t get up.  “I do not wish to kill you, Elder.  All I require is the Black Book and after that, to leave.  Have some sense and live another day.  Ancksunamun is already raised.  Imhotep walks the earth.  What could we possibly do with the Book?”

Rasheyd crossed his arms and Ardeth watched him keenly, waiting for this man to draw a knife or some other such sudden attack.  But Rasheyd wouldn’t, Ardeth remembered with a pang.  Med-Jai fight openly like men, not in secret like monsters.  He was forgetting what it was like to think like a Med-Jai.  “We will take care of our mistakes, Bay.  If there is indeed nothing you can do with the Book of the Dead, why should I hand it to you?  I am no fool.  Omar Armanjani has managed to convince the majority of the elders to allow for your absence, claiming we owe you at least that, but I see now my opinion of you was correct.  So kill me.  Or if you haven’t forsaken all of the teachings of our people, then allow me to fight you with dignity.  My weapon lies over there.”  His hand waved as if he expected less of Ardeth than to fight the Med-Jai way.

Ardeth turned his head and saw the scimitar in its appropriate place, sheathed and lain out on a table made specifically for the display of such an object.  He lowered his own sword and turned his back on his enemy, heading for the table.  The scimitar was no different than his own, but he felt loathe to touch it almost as his fingers curled around it.

A rustle behind caused Ardeth to whip around and Rasheyd, now standing, looked him over in undisguised contempt.  “You would think that, wouldn’t you?” he spat, waiting for his weapon to be handed to him.

Holding the other’s scimitar in his hand, Ardeth slowly came before Rasheyd and lifted it.  In a blur of action he attacked and the elder hit the ground, unsuspecting until the last.  Ardeth took a breath and tossed the man’s weapon onto the sand beside him and looked around the tent.  There would be very little time, now.

Feeling like a common thief, Bay rifled through Rasheyd’s things, searching drawers and a chest to no avail.  It occurred to him as he knelt on the floor and pondered, that Omar could very well have just lured him into a trap.  Rasheyd had known of Akhenre, so it was very possible he would walk out of this tent into ten or more Med-Jai.  Unease spread through him until he noticed a brown bag tucked in the corner of the tent, unassuming and out of the way.  Ardeth got up and grabbed the sack, opening it quickly and searching.  Elation spread through him when his eyes met the hard surface of the book.  Ancksunamun would be pleased.

He zipped the bag and exited the tent, knowing he could not afford to stay a moment longer.  The storm raged on, but for as far as he could see, the way was free and clear of guards.  Ardeth drew the cloth around his face again and broke into a run, passing Omar’s tent on the way.  The older man was out, heading away from his own tent, dressed for the weather and searching.  He saw the bag in Ardeth’s arms as he approached, then looked up with worry in his eyes.  “What have you done, Ardeth?”

“Don’t follow me,” the ex-Med-Jai replied, brushing past his father and heading towards the desert.  He wanted to look back, but didn’t allow himself the weakness.  He had no father.

Ardeth headed towards the oasis with his ears tuned behind, waiting for any sign that he was being pursued.  It wouldn’t be long before they decided to try, storm or not.  The sand whipped around him, threatening his vision every step of the way, but he knew where to go.  He could feel her calling.

When he arrived she was in the center of a clearing with her back to him and he took that opportunity to drop the bag, wrap his arms around hers and draw his scimitar on her.  Ancksunamun writhed in his grasp and he tried to ignore the stirrings that brought to him.  Leaning close enough to her ear to kiss, Ardeth growled, “Did you tamper with the minds of the Med-Jai, Ancksunamun?  Did you force lies from their mouths?”

The priestess stilled in his arms, her breathing coming hard as her surprise subsided.  “I did nothing but what you see around you, Ardeth.  Whatever you were told did not come from me.  Take your arms away from me this instant.  I have not lost the will to punish you, no matter what soft things we have done.”  Her voice was calm, smooth and firm.

He held her close a moment, letting his dark temptations rule him for a moment more.  Ardeth brushed the blade of his weapon against her soft skin, then shoved her away.  He had wanted those things Omar had told him to be a lie from her, but just couldn’t be certain of what to believe.  It was possible.  Very possible…but how likely?

Ardeth slammed the bag down and paced, offering his master a glare.  “There’s your book, Ancksunamun.  The Book of the Dead.  The other is in Cairo and the Seals of Horus are destroyed.”

Her dark eyes widened at that last as he had expected.  The possibility of raising her demon was gone with those seals and only a priest of Horus could make new ones.  “They will suffer for this, Ardeth,” she warned him in a dark tone that he knew he could not argue with.  Now it was she that paced and he that watched.  “I will have to defeat him another way.”  Her brows narrowed.

Ardeth came before her, surprised to see such an unnerved look clouding her expression.  His hands found her shoulders and rubbed gently as he considered their options and what she would do in such a state.  “You are powerful.  I see not why you need to raise Set to defeat your foes.   Who do you wish to defeat?”  When her eyes came to his, conniving and weighing, a chill passed through him.

Ancksunamun shared his gaze a moment, then brought her fingers to his lips to trace.  “Set, my love.”  His eyes widened, but she continued.  “I wish to defeat Set and take his power.  I will become a god.”

He pulled her close, staring intently into her thoughtful face.  The expression of unbridled, consuming desire for this goal frightened him.  “You would not be a god, Ancksunamun.  You would a demon far worse than anything this world has seen.  Are you so sure you want to commit to something so vile?”  Was it even possible?

Her eyes hardened as she shoved him away.  “Either you are with me or against me, Ardeth.  No more games.  If you are with me, you will bring me Imhotep.  If you are against me, I will kill you and free you of this before it begins.”

“Why do you need Imhotep?” he asked her, unease spreading through him.  She could very well be unstoppable if this happened, unstoppable and unthinkably evil.  Perhaps she was grasping at straws.  Perhaps there was no way to truly do this.

Ancksunamun’s lips spread into a smile as she reached for him again, lightly touching his hair and curling a strand around her finger.  “Who else can ordain you as a priest of Osiris, love?”

That threw him, stopped him right in his tracks.  “What?  You…you want me to become a priest?  Of Osiris?”

She nodded softly, her demeanor very different from what it was, as she looked him over with renewed vision.  “My teacher Asenath knew a great many secrets.”  Her body neared, hot and tempting and he felt his senses weakening to want once more.  Ancksunamun’s laugh was rich and claiming.  “She told me of how the demons of Egypt came to be.  How they forged their powers.  How they were…mortal.  And how a mortal may take those powers.  But Set is the source of my magic.  I cannot defeat him.  But a priest of an enemy god could.”

Ardeth looked away, knowing where this was going.  She would have him become a priest of Osiris and fight the demon himself.  There was no way he could do this…was there?  She was asking far more than he had considered she would.  Could he give that?  “I know nothing of how to defeat Set, Ancksunamun.  I know nothing of magic.  How is it that your priestess did not try to defeat Set herself, or seduce Imhotep into doing it?”

The priestess sneered at that.  “She would never have tried.  She was beloved of Set and had all she needed as his slave.  That is not enough for me and I am not afraid.”  She smiled reassuringly, seeing his startled eyes, and continued petting him.  “I do not know all of the answers, but together we will learn from Imhotep.  And when I take Set’s place I will battle Osiris and you, my lover, you will become a god in his place.  I tell you now because I want you to share in this as an equal, not a slave.  Does it not tempt you, the chance at becoming something far greater than you could have dreamed?”  Silky lips pressed against his, drawing him into pleasure as he allowed himself to kiss her in return.

Breathlessly, he pulled away and whispered, “What makes you think Imhotep will help us do this terrible thing?  This is very big, Ancksunamun.  You’re talking about fighting something more powerful than Imhotep was.”

Her head rested against his shoulder as she held to him, rubbing gently and searching him over his clothes.  This wasn’t the same as what he had helped fight back in 1923.  These creatures the ancients called gods were powerful and more deadly than anything that ever walked the earth.  What she was considering was insane.

Ardeth’s lashes fluttered when she pulled open his pants, asking for him to forget his fear.  Under that touch came the temptation to do just that.  He swallowed hard and hugged her closer, willing his hurts to melt into her.  “I won’t send you into battle without being certain of the outcome, lover.  Imhotep will help us or I will allow you to have revenge on Nefertiri.”

“Revenge,” he repeated in a soft voice, looking at the storm that raged outside of their circle.  Ardeth wanted to stop her invasive caress, wanted to stop himself from heading down that dark path, but he was too lost.  The seduction was too powerful and a part of him didn’t think he could stand her stopping, for this offered a place to hide.   Ardeth didn’t want to be dark, but he wouldn’t be alone with his fear and failure if he surrendered.  Abdu had done the strong thing and he could not.  That made him feel so unworthy of what he had tried to become and was what would hold him, what would allow her to keep doing these things to him.

And he would have the vengeance his heart cried out for.  This darkness in him would not go unpaid for by those who had brought it to him.  And in that thought came something akin to satisfaction.  Ardeth pulled Ancksunamun to his mouth, brushing the robe from her shoulders so he could view that which his innocence bought.  He let go of another piece of who he had been. 

“I will do what you ask.  Evy will suffer if Imhotep fails her,” he murmured.  His heart ached somewhere inside with those words, but he quickly gave it up.  “I will go to Cairo and get the Book of Amun Ra and when I return, I will bring her with me.  Then,” he brushed his mouth against her throat and dug his fingers into her arms.  “Then I will have my revenge.”

Ancksunamun whimpered against his rough hold, but he didn’t let up.  Instead he looked down into her face with an unyielding determination, letting his anger fill him.  Her eyes were unafraid and wanting, filled with lust and triumph.  Ardeth closed his eyes, pushing worry and pride away, allowing himself to become weak again as she urged him down to the sand.  Neither Ardan nor Omar would be proud if they could see what was inside; the angry, dark thing he was becoming.

It didn’t matter anymore.

*

Omar stood before the elders, his arms crossed and his eyes trained on the floor.  He couldn’t look into their faces just now, for his heart was deeply troubled.  Sometimes he could his mind wandering from their words, so intent was his thought on Ardeth.  And it wasn’t so much that he was ashamed.  He knew Ardeth had gone through some pretty terrible things at the hands of that priest.  It was more out of fear and the question: why?

The tent got suddenly quiet and one of the elders stood.  Jaalam, a man that had been Ardan Bay’s friend, and had befriended Ardeth through his youth.  He came slowly to Omar and laid a hand on his arm.  “This is grave, Omar.  Rasheyd may die from the wound Ardeth inflicted.  Have you nothing to say?”

“I take responsibility,” he replied, not looking up.  Everything, every sound and sensation felt both numbing and painful all at once.  How could his son have done this?  How lost was he, that he could attack an elder and leave him to die?  “I will go and I will stop him.”

Jaalam jerked his hand back angrily, startling Omar with his unusual display of agitation.  The elder turned and walked in silence, slow as his age, and reclaimed his seat.  Omar looked up and frowned at the stern, steady glare.  The other Med-Jai waved a dismissive hand.  “No, you will not go.  You will remain here while the young warriors bring him to justice.”

Omar shifted his weight and shook his head.  “It is my place to…” began, but couldn’t continue.

“No,” Jaalam interrupted.  “It is not your place, as you decided long ago.  You stepped aside and gave up your son to another man.  Ardeth Bay is not your responsibility.”

The whole council knew now, but no others.  Some of them weren’t surprised, others rattled to the core and some had decided this made no difference at all.  The old Med-Jai exhaled wearily and rubbed his temples at the burden now placed upon him.  His eyes took on a sad, but hopeful expression.  “Omar, you know we will do everything to be fair to your son.  We are not a heartless people.”

“Not heartless?” Omar spat, pacing in front of the elders.  He stopped and spread his arms slightly.  “Is this what you claimed to be when you turned your backs on him a month ago?  You don’t know how Ardan taught him to revere you.  He would never have questioned the council’s choice, whether right or wrong, and the guilt was thrust upon his shoulders for him to carry alone!  And now you turn your backs on him again when he needs you most!”

Jaalam’s dark eyes glistened with repressed anger as he glared Omar down.  “Omar, what he has done is serious.  Attempted murder on an elder is a serious offence, not to mention the fact that young Abdu and his mother and the young girl are still missing.”

At that Omar shook his head.  “Not attempted murder, Jaalam.  Don’t you dare call it that, for you know if he had wanted Rasheyd dead he would have seen it done.”  He knew his son, knew the difference between Ardeth’s killing blows and those meant to slow an enemy down.  A little under an hour ago the elder had been found lying in his tent with sword wound to the lower left-hand side of his chest.  A devastating wound, no doubt, but not one meant to kill.

The elders were poised and set for justice, not mercy.  Omar knew this to be right in his heart, but…this was his son.  He felt so tense his body shivered as if cold.  Ardeth had never looked so lost and broken in his eyes, Omar had noticed.  His son was deeply wounded and going from that to something worse, being forsaken by his people.  Not that Omar believed Ardeth should be free to do any crime he saw fit without fear of punishment, but it just seemed such a shame for him to have to spend his final weeks in such turmoil, caused by no fault of his own because a priestess had driven him to despair.

Omar shuddered inwardly at that thought.  Final weeks.  If Rasheyd died these may very well be his last, assuming the Med-Jai could get a hold of him.  He was torn between wishing his son could disappear and knowing that something had to be done about this.  He wasn’t the only man to lose a loved one if Rasheyd were dead and Abdu and his mother and love.  But this was his child.  If he could take this from Ardeth somehow, he would walk through Hell itself to make it so.

Jaalam picked up on his solemn disquiet and his expression softened.  “We will give Ardeth a fair trial, Omar.  Have no fear against that.  I personally guarantee that his story will be heard and judged with open hearts.  This letter may be his redemption, my friend.”  He held up the paper that had been found near Rasheyd, containing the only evidence so far that Ardeth might not have acted at all, but an ancient spirit that had taken over his mind.  If they brought him here, observed him and found that to be true, then he would not face death, slavery or banishment for his crimes.

Omar could only pray that was the reason Ardeth had done these things.  He had seemed like Ardeth, however, and that’s what frightened him.  His son was different, melancholy, but by all rights seemed to speak with Ardeth’s voice.  Jaalam watched him struggle, then sighed.  “More than this we cannot offer, Omar.  You know our ways.  You know if he escapes with these crimes on his heart that the destruction of his soul will only be hastened.  He cannot heal without his sins paid for.”

And that more than anything kept Omar from rushing right out to hide his son.  Though he grieved it, he knew death would cleanse his son if there were guilt upon him.  If Ardeth’s guilt were left on him, it would only damage him more.  The pain would never stop then.  Omar looked up finally and nodded.  “I know.  I just…”  He couldn’t continue.  Jaalam nodded his head once, sharing in his grief.  “I will obey your wisdom, elders.  I only beg your mercy.”

The older Med-Jai in the center of the room again stood and came to his friend, lending the support of a hand on his back.  “We will do what is right, Omar.  For Ardeth’s sake pray our men find him.”

Omar kept his opinions to himself as they walked together from the main tent and into the now clear weather.  The storm had died not long after Ardeth’s departure, displaying clearly to all that it was not of nature.  The priestess was truly awakened in some way and using her powers to tame even the winds.  Perhaps Ardeth could not withstand a creature of such terrible ability.  If he died for her sake, for her hungers…

With an inward breath, Omar left the company of his old friend without any words.  None could be said in a situation like this and no comfort could be given.  He needed the counsel of his wife before he did something rash.

*

Montana – Thanks!!  I’m just glad you’re enjoying it, but thanks for taking the time to let me know what you thought. :-D  Wouldn’t it be a lovely thing to be yanked into the sand??  ;-)  Yikes.

Lula – Hehe!  I like playing guessing games.  Muahaha!  Yeah, I thought I’d throw another good shocker for Ardeth to handle, just for good measure.  Lol.  Nothing like having more than one reason to give in to the darkside, eh?  ;-)  Thanks!

Marcher – I’m glad you liked that line. ;-)  I thought Rick could use a little jolt into watching his language around Immy.  And yeah…Poor Ardeth has a lot on his plate right now, now along with the prospect of going to war with the demon Set if Imhotep can tell him how to raise it without the seals. ;-)  Doh!  Thanks!

Deana – Lol…thanks, my friend.  Yes…Ardeth on the darkside…what a tragedy.  A very sexy tragedy.  ;-)

Mommints – Thanks!  I’m happy you all seemed to like the twist instead of thinking it was silly.  Make sure boss don’t catch you reading. ;-)

Freakizimi – Hehehe.  Things may go right for him someday.  Lol.  ;-)  He uh…might become a god.  Yeah…a god. :-D  Then Immy can be the High Priest of Ardeth instead of Osiris.  Of course then I’d have to kick Immy out of the way so I could be High Priestess.  Hehehe…but yeah…poor Ardeth’s sure dealing with some stuff.  Thanks!

Everyone else, thanks for reading! :-D - Angela