Title:  Passion - Chapter Eighteen – Priest of Osiris

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

*

Imhotep watched in silence with his back leaned against the wall.  Nefertiri lay curled around Akhenre and it served to remind the priest, as sometimes things did, that he was not truly a part of this time.  He held no doubt that she loved him, but sometimes Imhotep felt out of place in this world—llike he didn’t fit and shouldn’t be here.  Perhaps this was the true curse.  The Hom-Dai kept him from true life.

They looked beautiful in their blessedness, untainted by evil—even Bay, no matter what he had done.  He thought about the Med-Jai he had killed back in Cairo, who had only been doing his duty.  They didn’t know evil as he himself did and he envied that.  Bay had lost his innocence somewhere, but not like Imhotep had.  Not like this curse upon him.  Ardeth still had a chance to fight back from the darkness closing around his soul.

Nefertiri stirred as morning’s light streamed in through the open entrance to Hamunaptra and when she looked up, her eyes met his own.  Careful not to disturb her friend, she crawled towards Imhotep and threw herself into his welcoming arms.  Her hold was fast and tight, arms marred by grief and need.

“There’s so much damage,” she whispered and he sighed, rubbing a hand through her hair.

Imhotep closed his dark eyes and kissed her head gently, wanting to take the pain from her.  “He will be just fine, princess,” he returned just as softly, letting his eyes slide over the sleeping form nearby.  “He has people that love him as they love their own lives.  A man cannot fight healing against such odds.  I could not.”

His princess pulled away and looked up into his face, her eyes glistening and a smile written across her mouth.  She closed her eyes almost shyly and kissed him for his kindness.  Imhotep basked in the light of it, wishing he could live inside that beauty forever.  As it was, she pulled away when her friend stirred in his sleep restlessly.

Bay slowly sat up, conscious perhaps of the missing warmth by his side, and looked around for her as he reached for a dagger.  Imhotep said nothing, but watched that hand curl around the blade with dark intent.  When the Med-Jai saw where she had gotten to, his grasp eased.  Those wounded eyes rested against Nefertiri and Imhotep softly.  “Ordain me,” he said simply.  There was nothing else either of them could say.  They both knew the gravity of the situation, the dangers that stood before them both. 

“Ardeth, what is this about becoming a priest?” Evelyn questioned and Imhotep held her to him protectively.

Bay looked down at the floor, accepting his fate.  “I must fight Set as a priest of Osiris.”  Imhotep said nothing.  He would take actions to prevent what he must when the time came and there was no need in trying to convince Bay otherwise.  He knew what he had to do, but for now he would humor Ardeth for the sake of keeping Nefertiri safe.  If the Med-Jai harmed her for this purpose it would draw him deeper into the dark.

Nefertiri would not let her own words go unsaid, however.  Instantly she flared with frightened anger.  “You must what?  Ardeth, that’s crazy!  Surely you can see that!”

Gripping the dagger again, Ardeth held it pointed at her with firmness.  “Don’t question this, Evelyn.  I told you last night that I would obey her and that is my intent.  Imhotep will ordain me as a priest of Osiris or you will suffer for it.  There are no other options.”

Imhotep seethed inside at seeing Nefertiri cry.  A few tears slid down her cheeks and he brushed them aside, watching the Med-Jai look away in shame of what his own lips were saying, what his own heart was intending.  The high priest would not push him to anything that would break them both.  Letting Nefertiri go, Imhotep made his way to the side of Ardeth Bay and nodded.  “For her sake and yours I will do as I must.  I will require two things.  The knife and your trust.”

“Imhotep!” the princess snapped and he gave her a hard look that had the immediate effect he was looking for.  She clamped her mouth shut and glared through her tears, crossing her arms angrily.  He smiled softly at that, thinking of how beautiful she looked even in such a way, and his princess took her eyes away from his.

He turned back to the Med-Jai and was greeted by wary eyes.  Bay’s fingers stayed wrapped around the dagger uncertainly as he asked, “Why do you need this?  What will happen?”

“Osiris is the guardian of the underworld,” the priest began plainly, retaking his role as teacher once more as he fidgeted with his fingers—an unseemly habit he had picked up from Nefertiri.  “To be ordained you must come to the gates of the underworld and be judged.  I must cut your left side and speak a prayer.  You will bleed and hover on the outskirts of death for a few hours, during which Osiris will judge your soul.  If you are worthy to become his priest, you shall live.  If you are not, you will die.”

The ancient world came back into his mind.  Imhotep could recall clearly his own conversion to priesthood.  Held down by the priests of Osiris he had lain, closing his eyes against the pain of the High Priest’s dagger pressing into his side roughly and the sounds of harsh chanting.  There in the temple he had been left to die.  Surrounded by candles and his own blood, Imhotep had waited for that death to claim him, too, but it never came.

Only a few hours had passed and when it finally ended the High Priest returned to his side, proclaiming his worthiness and that he foresaw a great future for the young, newly made priest.  Imhotep could also recall the elation of that, the desire for power.  The selfishness that had brought him to this.

Ardeth looked wary about risking his life, but this was what all priests risked with this undertaking.  Imhotep waited patiently and when the dagger met his hand, breathed in relief.  The weakness of the test would keep Bay from stopping him from what he must do.  It was his place to die.  “Allah, forgive me,” Ardeth breathed, laying down before Imhotep and unbuttoning his shirt.

Imhotep glanced to the side when movement caught his vision and saw that his Nefertiri was standing to leave.  “I can’t watch this.  I’ll be in the hall.”  She didn’t wait for either man to speak and Ardeth sighed.

The priest looked back down upon Bay with truthful eyes as he pulled the shirt from the his side.  “You know I will stop you,” he said plainly, then took Ardeth’s distraction as an opportunity to slash the dagger across his side.  Bay writhed against the sudden pain and gasped out, flinging his arms to ward off any more attacks.  Imhotep easily pushed them aside and touched his hand to the wound, letting the blood flow onto his fingers.

Ardeth tried to sit, but Imhotep shoved him back and began a ritual that he had many times before.  He traced his fingers over Bay’s heart, drawing with his blood the hieroglyphs that would welcome judgment upon this man.  The Book of Dead was needed for many chants, but this was one no priest of Osiris ever forgot or needed help with.  Imhotep shared eye contact with Ardeth and softened his gaze in empathy of the fear this ritual caused.  “Osiris, guardian of the underworld, hear your faithful priest.  I bring another before you, to accept judgment and commission, to serve and to die if you find him worthy.  By the sacrifice of his blood is his request made and I speak in favor of him.”

The weakness was already settling in over Ardeth and Imhotep brushed away needful hands.  This was a private thing, lonely and dark.  He stood up and left Bay to die as he had been left, as he had left other men and even a few women.  The High Priest of Osiris exhaled and retreated down the hallway Nefertiri had taken.  She glared at him with moist eyes and he looked down.  “Did you do it?”  Her voice was small, but enough to make his heart ache with what lay ahead.

“I did it, Nefertiri.  I called Osiris to judge him.”  Imhotep rubbed his sticky, bloody fingers together and held up his hand.  Nefertiri touched a fingertip to his and let her expression soften at his heaviness.  “Now we wait.”  He looked her over gently, lovingly.  He had to teach her the chant.  “Nefertiri, when Ancksunamun comes I will need you to help me stop her.”

“Stop her?” she questioned, tucking her beautiful brown hair behind her ears.  The princess sniffled and looked puzzled.

Imhotep shook his head, not wanting to do this.  But there was no other choice.  He sighed and brought her lips to his, drawing strength from her kiss.  “Yes, my love.  To stop her she must be unbound from Set.  It is the only way to cut her off from her power.”

Evy’s eyes widened dramatically and her hand raced to cover her mouth.  Her tears struck him with every bit the force of a slap.  She knew what sacrifice was required to unbind a priest or priestess from Set and she was now terrified.  “No.  No!  There has to be another way!  Imhotep, please!  You can’t do this.”  Amidst her yelling and struggles he said nothing, but pulled her into his arms until finally she gave in and held him.  “Don’t you leave me with this baby.  I can’t do it alone.”

“You will not do it alone,” he said softly into her hair, knowing that with a certainty.  The others, all three, would never leave her side if she had need.  “Please let me teach you the words.”

*

Rick brought a hand to his mouth, choking on the taste of his own blood.  His lip was cut, not to mention his arm, his thigh and the healing itchy wound on his side.  Hovering on his knees, O’Connell looked around at the destruction around him.  Oh, she hadn’t killed everyone.  No, this was a warning blow.  A taste of things to come.  He could recognize the intent.

He groaned, tempted to just lay down on the sand until someone bothered to check on him—assuming anyone would care.  Med-Jai raced around frantically, checking on fallen brothers and sisters and children.  He wouldn’t be a priority, he knew and that was okay.  If the situation was reversed he would feel the same way.

The drive up had gifted them with the terrible vision of running Med-Jai women and children, scattered warriors and an immortal testing her fledgling powers.  None of the Med-Jai had been able to cause damage to her.  A lot of the ones who had tried now lay dead.  Rick would have been one of them, too, had Ancksunamun not gotten her fill of blood.  He coughed and thanked God Evy hadn’t been here.  She would probably be dead if that were so.

A form dropped down beside him and Rick turned his aching head to see Jonathan.  A cut marred his forehead and a decidedly annoyed expression proved he was not without his hurts.  “Bloody hell,” he breathed and Rick couldn’t have agreed more.  This was like hell and Ancksunamun had only begun.

Rick laid down and groaned out, tired beyond belief and hurting all over.  Evy’s brother wiped a hand over his brow and nodded as if sharing some private thought of the ex-Legionnaire’s.  “This is bad,” Rick observed, wondering how they were supposed to handle this.  Ancksunamun wasn’t cursed like Imhotep, therefore the same incantation wasn’t going to work.  “I wonder if Imhotep would let us kill him to stop her.”

Jonathan grunted and grinned, looking around at the trashed camp.  The Englishman gave a tired breath and shook his head.  “I don’t think Evy would appreciate that very much.  I wouldn’t suggest it with her around, anyway.”

“Yeah.”  That’s really all he had the energy to stay.  They had tried to fight her and failed and they had tried to save others and had minor success at best.  Still, he supposed any success was good.  But this was only the beginning.  He sighed and thought aloud, “I wonder where Codei and Karl got off to.”

“Not sure,” Jonathan replied, knocking his shoulder with his eyes turned up and out.  “Look alive, Rick.  We’ve got company.  Is that that Med-Jai we helped last time around?”

O’Connell groaned at that and dragged himself into a sitting position, muttering, “I might look alive, but I sure as hell refuse to feel it.”  An older Med-Jai approached and extended a helping hand.  He was the same man.  Omar, as Rick recalled.  “Thanks,” Rick offered, wincing and doubling over at the pain in his side.  The Med-Jai wrapped an arm around him to aid his faltering steps.  “Where we goin’?

Omar exhaled and pulled O’Connell along, casting a momentary glance to see if Jonathan were following.  Satisfied that he was, he replied, “To rest.  I’m taking you to a tent where you may sleep.”

Rick looked ahead through half-lidded eyes and nodded dizzily.  “Rest sounds good.”

The tent offered one bed which Rick, being the more injured between he and Jonathan, took gratefully.  The Med-Jai eased him down and grabbed a chair for Jonathan.  “I’ll have a cot brought in for you,” he assured the Englishman, who sat down wearily.  “Rest assured.  I have spoken to a few of the elders and in light of the fact that you tried to help, they grant you leave once your injuries are healed.  Until then you may stay here in the tent of Ardeth Bay.”  Omar looked away at that and rushed out.

Jonathan grunted and leaned back in his chair, stretching cramped arms and yawning.  “Ardeth’s tent, huh?  I think I’ll have a bit of a look around in that case.”  He chuckled.  “Let’s see what the old boy’s hiding, hmm?”

Cuddling the pillow to his head, Rick closed his eyes and groaned again, thankful he wasn’t standing anymore.  “Mmyep.  If you find any alcohol send it my way, will ya?”  Silence answered his jest and Rick peeked through one eye.  Jonathan was now standing in front of a chest of drawers, his fingers wiggling curiously as they wrapped around the handle of one.  “You haven’t gone through my room, have you?”

The drawer slid open and Jonathan rummaged around absently.  “Hmm?  Oh, yes actually.  I’ve no sense of minding my own business, Rick.  You should know that by now.  I found that picture of…oh, what was her name?  Rita the Rose?”  He looked at Rick thoughtfully and snapped his fingers.  “Lena the Lily?”

Rick huffed and closed his eyes.  “Tori the Tulip.  She was a sweet girl.  I hope that Med-Jai don’t come back and catch you doing that.  Might get us thrown out of here, you know.  If it does, you’ll be carrying me back to Cairo.”

“Oh,” Jonathan sighed, scratching his head.  He shut the drawer and Rick smirked.  “Right.  Wait until tonight when they think we’ve gone to bed.”

It was a good thing he closed it, too, because as soon as Jonathan hit the chair the tent flap opened and two Med-Jai carrying a cot came in and set it down, then left as the other Med-Jai entered again.  Jonathan gave him his chair as he sank into the offered cot.  “I am Omar,” he said in a deep voice as he looked between the two outlanders.  “You recall me?”

Rick could remember finding Evy in the desert near the Temple of Set, crying because she couldn’t get Omar to safety and because she had left Ardeth behind to endure Ancksunamun.  It seemed strange, how events now echoed the ones of before.  “Yeah,” he replied with a nod, taking a breath and smiling.  “We raised Imhotep together.  How could I forget?”  A bat of those eyelashes made the Med-Jai shake his head with a grin.

Omar took a deep breath and nodded, running a hand through his long hair.  “We’re in a good mess, my friend.  Incidentally, I think you should know that your priest friend is in danger.  The Med-Jai are not very happy that he walks the earth.”

Smirking at that, Rick inhaled and yawned.  “Yeah, I figured that would come up someday.  Always trying to kill someone I love or my friends love, anyway.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for killing Imhotep sometimes, but Evy would be real sad and frankly you people piss me off.”  He cracked an eye open and saw Omar regarding him steadily.  “Sorry.  Tired and cranky.  I’m being rude right now, huh?  What are they gonna do to Ardeth?”

The old Med-Jai’s eyes grew sad and Rick regretted his sarcasm.  He forced his eyes to remain open and attentive.  “I’m not sure, O’Connell.  Do you know what’s come over him?  Is this some ancient ghost from the past?”

O’Connell swallowed and shrugged, not sure anymore or whether or not he should lie.  “It was,” he decided to answer, then sighed.  “I don’t know any more.  That Codei told me what they think Ardeth did, but I just can’t see it.  I know you people have had him for thirty or so years, but I just…I don’t know.  I know him.  He’s not like that.  Maybe Akhenre isn’t as gone as Evy thought.”

With a soft, distant expression Omar gazed continuously at the sand.  This ordeal hurt him every bit as much as it did Rick and the others, he could see.  Maybe all Med-Jai weren’t as harsh as their so-called council.  “You’ve had him for a month.  Tell me how he has been.”  Dark eyes slid to Rick’s own blue ones with apprehensive curiosity.

Rick sighed and found it difficult to talk about.  None of them really talked about it.  None but Evy.  Rick wasn’t very good at that sort of thing and Jonathan hadn’t known what to say to ease their friend’s suffering.  Imhotep had rumoredly tried once or twice, but in the end it all had lead them here.  “He was okay.  Sad and lost, but he had us.  I’m not entirely sure if all his suffering was just him or if it was that Akhenre working on him, but we were there for him.  We were all pretty angry with the Med-Jai for what they did to him.”

Omar’s eyes were very thoughtful and very regretful.  This was the man Ardeth had mentioned thinking of as a second father, Rick recalled.  He looked up and smiled, taking the outlander’s hand in his own.  “Thank you, Rick O’Connell.  Thank all of you.”  He stood up and exited, leaving Rick and Jonathan in confusion.  Neither said anything.  Both were too tired.

*

Ardeth lay there on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.  Each moment that passed was a sign that he had not left this earth, not left his task incomplete.  He could feel the strength slowly returning to his body and knew it would soon be time.

His side ached, but that was only a minor inconvenience.  His heart ached as well, but that was what drove him.  He drew strength from his pain instead of weariness.  Soon Ancksunamun would come and he would do what he had to.  And he would be loved.  Evy would love him through this, or so she had promised.  That also gave him strength—gave him a small flicker of renewed hope.  She had always been there for him when he needed her.  Imhotep was a blessed man.

The priest came not long after that observation and knelt above Ardeth, holding the precious dagger away as if to keep him from using it to fight his demons.  Imhotep looked him over and nodded gravely.  “You are worthy,” he announced, but Ardeth had already come to that conclusion.

Evy stood above with grief in her dark eyes and Ardeth sighed, wishing he could take that away from her.  Soon, he wanted to tell her, but was too tired.  Someday she and the others would be elsewhere doing other things, the events of these past few months forgotten.

Soon he would have his revenge.

*

~I’ve decided to go ahead and post the last two together since they are both complete, even if the next chapter is a little longer than this.  I hope anyone reading has enjoyed this, even if it was a bit darker and sadder than usual.  I went for different and got it, huh?  Hehehe.  Oye.

Thank you to Marcher and Lula for reviewing the last chapter.  What would I do without you two?? :-)  Thanks anyone else who might be reading…take cover for the next chapter!  :-O  Lol.  Actually, I should be taking cover.

Angela