The Forever Friends
by LadiSwan

Summary: Evy's American penpal arrives in Egypt with her young daughter and younger brother.  But as she sets foot on Egyptian soil, she becomes haunted by dreams of a past life, of a handsome prince, a young concubine, and the concubine's best friend. . .a beautiful girl named 'Anck-su-namun.'  As an ancient evil arises once more, Anck-su-namun finds herself in a Place-in-Between, and while there, she also discovers a chance at redemption. . .if she can look past Ardeth Bey's Med-jai markings.

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Evy O'Connell didn't like the idea of leaving her husband and chosen brother to rescue her best friend. . .but for once, she wouldn't argue with them.  Evy knew that to be among that party would only distract Rick and Ardeth. . .distractions meant death, and Evy was unwilling to have their deaths, or Celia's, on her conscience.  She had to think about others right now. . .her other brother, her son, and little Miranda. 

And so they left the barge. . .Kaphiri leading the way.  More than once, Evy would look over her shoulder at the Med-jai following the kidnappers into the open desert.  She knew from listening to the others that the trap would be sprung.  Evy could only hope that the kidnappers weren't smart enough to realize that they were being followed.  And she had thought she was being so discreet in her observation.

At least, she thought that until Kaphiri said softly, "We will not go all the way to the encampment, Mrs. O'Connell. . .we can watch the battle from a safe distance, then continue to our camp near Hamunaptra once the battle is over."  Evy looked at the Med-jai and the man shrugged, "The chieftain said only that I was to get you, Mr. Carnahan, and the children to safety.  He never said anything about not watching the battle."

"You are a very sneaky Med-jai," Evy said with a mixture of surprise, awe, and amusement.  She was gifted with a mischievous smile.  Something she had learned. . .despite their fearsome appearance, the Med-jai did indeed have a sense of humor.  A rather wicked sense of humor at that!  Evy continued, still smiling, "You know. . .each time I've encountered you fellows, I've learned something new about you.  Well. . .actually, most of the time, I find myself learning about Ardeth.  But these last two times. . .I've learned more about the Med-jai as well."

"Then you are a wise woman, indeed," Kaphiri replied promptly, "because you do learn.  And you have our chieftain's trust.  He does not. . .speak with most people.  Even from most Med-jai does Ardeth protect his fears and his loneliness.  Some of us see anyhow, though he tries hard to hide it.  His heart and soul are both carefully guarded, in part because of his brother's murder at the hands of Lock-nah.  But you are different, Evelyn O'Connell, you and your family.  You have become part of his family, despite your. . .difficult beginnings."

Evy thought back to her first meeting with Ardeth, and blushed.  Yes. . .he was right about that.  At the time, of course, she hadn't realized that he was the reincarnation of her brother, from thousands of years ago.  She had only known that he was trying to prevent her from accomplishing her dream.  Foolish little girl.  Evy realized now that she never asked herself why he was so intent on driving them away from Hamunaptra.  She could only see what she wanted.

She supposed that was part of the reason for her protectiveness after Imhotep's first rising.  Her discovery that she could have killed so many people, because of her stubborn refusal.  There was also the fact that Ardeth had prevented Rick from getting himself killed before the final battle.  Live today, fight tomorrow, he had said.  And at the time of her rescue, as Hamunaptra sank into the sands, Evy hadn't known about Ardeth's attempt to sacrifice himself.  Live today, fight tomorrow, indeed!

That, of course, was far from their last adventure together.  During their next adventure, she and Rick had learned that Ardeth was much younger than they previously thought.  Only twenty-six years old at the time of Imhotep's rising, Ardeth had been a boy of seventeen when he assumed the mantle of leadership, following the death of his older brother.  Andreas.  Evy wondered, if the Med-jai ever thought about what would have happened. . .if Andreas hadn't died.  If he had led them during the risings. . .

"No longer," Kaphiri said.  Evy looked at the Med-jai in surprise, and Kaphiri continued, "We stopped wondering what would have happened, many years ago.  After the Creature's first uprising.  Some of the elders questioned Ardeth's judgment in letting you live.  But Garai put a stop to that.  He had a dream. . .a vision.  Of what would have happened, had Andreas Bey lived, and had he led us at that time."

Judging from Kaphiri's words, Evy had the unsettled feeling that things would have been much different. . .in a very bad way.  The Med-jai continued slowly, with a sideways glance at Alex, "In our first raid on Hamunaptra. . .I was there.  But if Andreas Bey had led us, there would have been no withdrawal, when your husband lit his stick of dynamite.  And Ardeth Bey would have died in the ensuing explosion."

Evy's hand went to her throat, and Kaphiri continued, "Andreas would have sworn revenge on Rick O'Connell. . .and killed him during their next meeting.  There would have been no alliance.  The Creature would have successfully sacrificed you to bring Anck-su-namun back from the dead. . .and the Med-jai would have been wiped off the face of the planet.  In the end, much as it pains us to know this. . .it was for the best that Andreas Bey died sixteen years ago.  Lock-nah ended his life. . .and, to use your husband's saying, shot himself in the foot."

Evy felt dizzy at this series of revelations.  To think, the fate of so many rested on that moment when Lock-nah had cut down the twenty-two year old Med-jai chieftain, and leadership passed to his young brother.  True enough, Lock-nah had tried to correct that, when he attacked Evy's house. . .but in the end, he paid for the pain he had caused.  To Andreas, to Ardeth, and to so many others.  Evy would not cry for him. . .but she could, and would, mourn for a young boy who was forced to grow up so fast.

But for now, Kaphiri added, "Look.  It begins."  Evy directed her attention to where Kaphiri was indicating.  The caravan, holding her best friend.  Her best friend.  When, exactly, did that happen?  It didn't matter.  Celia was her best friend.  Another imbalance corrected, because Nefertiri should have loved the girl who had made her brother so happy, if only for a time.  But that was what lifetimes were for. . .to correct the mistakes of the past.

.                     .                        .

The dreams continued to guide Celia through her previous lifetime, showing her all but the actual hour of Ardath's murder.  She knew how it had happened, of course, but she hadn't experienced it.  Something else had to happen, it would seem.  She caught her breath as memories surged through her. . .of their first kiss, the first time Rameses made love to Ardath.  And it was lovemaking.  He spent several months, gently seducing his foreign concubine.

He would not take her.  He had taken before, and it brought him no pleasure.  There was also the knowledge of what Anck-su-namun would do to him, if ever he harmed her beloved friend.  Rameses was no fool.  He knew that his father's favorite mistress was dangerous and ruthless, and when she was protecting that which was hers, she was even more so.  Prince or not, he would not cross her.

And, he didn't want to hurt Ardath.  It was as if all of his protective instincts were brought forth by this shy young girl who had a spine of pure steel.  Celia had been in deep, when she re-experienced that magical first night.  And she envied Ardath, because Carstairs had never made her feel like that.  Despite her exotic looks, Ardath had not been considered beautiful, not like Anck-su-namun, and she knew it.  She was neither beautiful, nor particularly gifted in the arts of war or battle.  But she was intelligent, and she was a good listener.

These two attributes, perhaps, were what drew Rameses to her.  Ardath, even in modern times, would not be considered an extraordinary woman.  But she was a good friend, a good listener, and she rarely judged others.  She did have a temper, but she forgave just as easily.  Unless the harm you did was to one of her friends, in which case, she could be just as ruthless as Anck-su-namun.

She remembered the birth of Ardath's son, a joyous occasion after her miscarriage.  Anck had not left Ardath's side through the birth. . .since Rameses was not permitted into the room, Anck swore she would not leave.  She held Ardath's hand through the entire birth, gently wiping her face with a cloth and cooling her down.  Ardath was the first to hold her precious newborn son. . .and Anck was the second.

It was the first time Ardath had ever seen such tenderness in Anck's eyes, directed at someone other than herself.  Not even Imhotep warranted such tenderness, such adoration.  Anck had held her tiny nephew, tenderly kissing his forehead and whispering, "You shall be the child of my heart, my precious little one, the son of your mother.  If I never have children of the man I love, then you will be my greatest treasure."

Both the child and Ardath were cleaned up, then Rameses was brought into the room.  He fell to his knees beside the woman he loved, sobbing brokenly.  He had heard the screams out in the hall and feared the worst.  But his Ardath was safely delivered of his son, and his son was safe also.  What more could any man want?  And true to form, Rameses, feared prince of Egypt, was totally undone by this tiny, defenseless babe.  It was there, then, that the dreams began to fade away, leaving Celia with a yearning for what Ardath had, albeit briefly.

Toward dawn, the last of the sedation began wearing off. . .by the time Celia was in full control of her faculties, it was midmorning, and she had been thrown rather unceremoniously over the back of a camel.  She hated hanging upside down, she hated being drugged, and she really hated being this hot!  And what was that awful stench?  Something rough scratched her skin, and she understood.  Ohhhhh. . . splendid!  She was hot because the bastards had wrapped her in a rug, a la Cleopatra!  No wonder she felt so sick!

Celia closed her eyes, trying desperately to avoid hyperventilating.  Unfortunately, while she wasn't really claustrophobic, there was little room to breathe within the carpet.  For the first time since she regained consciousness, she had time to think about her kidnapping.  She still flinched when she remembered seeing that club descend on Ardeth's head. . .and watching him crumple to the ground in a mass of black robes. Let him be okay, she prayed silently, not sure to whom she was praying, please let him be all right. . .and please, don't let my baby see me being taken. She knew there was a good chance Miranda did see, but she needed a focus.

This focus was twofold. . .first and foremost, it would keep her from passing out again or throwing up.  That would have been the height of indignity, and Celia was grasping to keep what little she had left of her pride.  The other reason was, as she thought about the attack in the bazaar, she started getting angry.  She wasn't entirely sure where to focus her anger, but she didn't fight the rising fury.  She might need it, after all.

A cry broke the stillness of the day, and Celia froze.  Were they being attacked by bandits?  There were stories, of course. . .and at this point, Celia really didn't think she would be lucky enough to be the focus of a Med-jai rescue operation, not this soon.  She heard screams around her, and she struggled to free herself inside the carpet.  It was a hard enough task, freeing oneself, but trying to free oneself while within the confines of a rolled-up carpet qualified as impossible. 

However, at the same time, she felt someone nearby, and a voice was whispering.  Celia struggled to pay attention, and heard, "They've come for you, Celia. . .the Med-jai have come for you.  They were on the bloody barge, and no one noticed but me!  I hope you can forgive me, my sister. . .you were always the strong one."  Jason!  Celia remembered struggling with her brother in the bazaar, and she was on the point of asking him what was going on, when she felt the carpet move.  Then she, and the carpet, hit the sand with a 'thump.'

Well, this was both a good thing and a bad thing.  It was a good thing, for she was off that camel, and no longer hanging upside down.  The bad part was, the carpet still holding her was now on the sand and thus, she was in danger of getting trampled, by horses and camels, kidnappers and Med-jai alike.  Celia again tried to free herself, hoping that her somewhat more comfortable position would allow her a little more flexibility.  No go.

She heard someone yelling something in Arabic.  At least, she thought it was in Arabic. The voice sounded somewhat familiar, but wrapped in a few layers of carpet, it was hard to be certain.  There was the sound of steel clashing with steel, grunts and moans as flesh connected with flesh.  And still Celia squirmed in her bonds, determined not to behave like that little fool Pauline in 'The Perils of Pauline.'

There was a cry of pain. . .someone dying.  And then Celia was being dragged along by the edge of the carpet.  The edge nearest her feet.  Her sense of direction was totally turned around, but she thought she was being pulled in the opposite direction.  Well. . .yes, actually that would make sense.  Unless, of course. . .oh, do stop being such a little fool, Celia, she scolded herself, you. . .oh Isis.  What was that?

Something went 'thud' against the carpet. . .something heavy.  Like a body?  She couldn't be sure, and there was no time to think about it, for Celia felt herself rolling away from wherever she had been.  She squeezed her eyes shut and couldn't help screaming, a scream which was quickly cut off by the lack of air inside her tightly-wound prison.  She coughed, and Celia's previous struggle to maintain dignity was slowly giving way to her struggle just to live.  While she was protected from the burning sun, she wasn't protected from the heat.

She was slowly baking to death inside the carpet, and what was all the more terrifying was the very knowledge that she was likely dying.  She was dying, and could do nothing about it.  Without a miracle of some kind, she couldn't save herself.   That thought fueled her already burning rage, and served to make her furious beyond anything she had ever felt before.  Even when Carstairs sent his goons chasing after her, she had been more afraid than angry.  The anger had come later.  This time, the transition from fear to anger was much quicker.

In the past two days, she had been chloroformed, seen someone she cared for knocked unconscious, been betrayed by a member of her own family, drugged, remembered her past life as a young concubine murdered before she turned twenty-one.  She had been rolled inside a rug, thrown over the back of a camel like so much refuse, and now this! Admittedly, she was no longer thinking at that point, but she began kicking at the rolls of carpet now surrounding her. . .perhaps in the hopes of kicking herself free.

There was a battle going on around her.  There shouldn't have been anyone nearby.  But suddenly the carpet was coming undone around her, and someone grabbed Celia by her shoulders, lifting her up out of her prison.  She screamed then, unable to see who had a hold of her.  Then she heard the voice. . .the very last voice she had expected to hear, whispering, "You are safe, Celia!  I have felt the sting of your knee once, I do not wish for a repeat accident."

At the sound of the familiar, safe voice, Celia stopped struggling.  It couldn't be.  He had been hit so hard, he would still be unconscious or at least confined to bed.  But as gentle hands removed the blindfold which Celia hadn't even realized was there, her silent hopes were confirmed.  After she blinked a few times, the solemn, handsome features of Ardeth Bey came into focus.  But he could have been a mummy himself, in that moment, and still he would have been the most beautiful sight in the world to the tired, sore, frightened, half-sick young woman.

Ardeth smiled at her gently, whispering her name as he cupped her face in his hands.  He turned her face this way and that, looking for bruises or any other signs of mistreatment.  When no bruises were found, he gently wiped moisture away from her cheeks with his thumbs.  With a sob, Celia threw herself forward, ignoring that her hands were still bound.  Ardeth had come for her.  He was here.  She was safe.  For the moment at least, her nightmare was over.

.                     .                        .

He sat atop his horse, watching as his men surrounded the kidnappers.  The silent leader saw Jason Ferguson dismount and approach one of the camels bearing a load.  That was how Ardeth knew which camel carried Celia Ferguson.  He would have never known, as only a blanket or carpet was visible.  Most likely a carpet.  Which meant. . .that Celia was inside the rug.  Oh, those bastards! Ardeth had to swallow his fury, and instead told Garai, "Let it be known to the men.  Celia Ferguson is within that rug.  Aim carefully."

He turned to his opposite side.  Rick O'Connell rode beside him, but the American pulled back ever so slightly when Ardeth told Anatol the same thing.  Once the word was being passed along the line, Ardeth told Rick what he had seen.  O'Connell looked at him and said what Ardeth was thinking, "She's gonna be dehydrated. . .may even have heat stroke."  Ardeth nodded grimly, and the American shook his head in disgust.

"Yes, I. . .what is he doing?" Ardeth asked in surprise, watching as the young traitor pulled out a knife.  Time had just run out.  The Med-jai chieftain drew his scimitar and, holding it high over his head, called the order to attack.  At the very least, the attack would buy Celia a few moments.  Ardeth and his Med-jai, accompanied by O'Connell, swept down the sand dunes toward the kidnappers.  Ardeth focused solely on the objective. . .on nothing else.

They were engaged immediately, but just as Jonathan and Evelyn had cleared a path for O'Connell only a few months earlier, when they rescued Alex at Ahm Shere, the Med-jai now cleared a path for O'Connell and Ardeth.  Anatol fired most often, Ardeth vaguely noted.  As they drew closer, Ardeth's heart hammered in his chest as Jason Ferguson leaned closer to the camel which carried his sister.  He would not get there in time, he. . .

But it was then that Jason Ferguson surprised him.  For, instead of driving his knife into the rug, the boy was instead cutting the ropes which bound the carpet to the camel, which bound it and steadied it.  A half second after that, the rug thumped to the sand, and Jason Ferguson leapt back onto his horse and rode toward Hamunaptra.  A quick glance around him told Ardeth that only five of his men were free to chase the American.

"Go after him!" Ardeth yelled in Arabic, flinging himself from his horse and racing toward the carpet.  He found his way blocked by a rather large man with empty eyes.  Around him, the chieftain heard screams of rage and pain as his Med-jai were locked in combat.  Nearby, Anatol ably defended himself against an attacker.  Ardeth raised his scimitar and growled, once more in Arabic, "Get. . .out. . .of. . .my. . .way!"  In answer, his opponent lunged for Ardeth.

But Ardeth had been waiting for such an opportunity.  During the last twenty-four hours, ever since the attack at the bazaar, Ardeth had struggled to keep his rage in check, focusing on the necessity of a workable plan to rescue Celia.  Now, however, that moment was at hand and someone was trying to keep him from his goal.  Ardeth's fury finally had an outlet, and the Med-jai attacked with a wild cry of fury and triumph.

For a dizzying moment, he found himself back in Ahm Shere, battling Lock-nah.  But only for a moment, as it took him less time to dispatch this zombie than it had to deal with his brother's murderer and his sister's rapist.  Ardeth looked around him and realized the battle was moving too close to the helpless woman still trapped within the carpet.  He wasn't about to risk Celia's life, so he grabbed the rug and started pulling it from the line of fire.

At his side, O'Connell kept up a constant barrage of fire, shooting any attacker who even came near the pair.  Unfortunately, however, while his back was turned, taking out one attacker, another got through and tackled Ardeth.  The chieftain went sprawling into the sand and the carpet, sending the strange little prison rolling away.  O'Connell spun around and fired two blasts from his shotgun, preventing the attacker from finishing the job.

The American helped Ardeth to his feet, exclaiming, "Go after her. . .I'll keep them busy!"  He punctuated this with a nod of his head toward the few remaining kidnappers.  Ardeth inclined his head in agreement and raced after the carpet.  It hadn't gotten far, fortunately.  The chieftain had no desire to chase a rug halfway across the desert.  Celia was evidently trying to kick her way free and Ardeth carefully sliced the ropes binding the carpet with a dagger he carried in his boot.

Once the rug was undone, Ardeth reached into the cocoon and grabbed the American woman's shoulders, pulling her upright.  She screamed, her body jerking frantically.  There was no thought in her actions. . .she was simply reacting.

A quick glance told him why. . .she was blindfolded, and she didn't know who had her. Remembering the last time he had frightened her, Ardeth told her, "You are safe, Celia!  I have felt the sting of your knee once, I do not wish for a repeat accident."  Celia froze at the sound of his voice, all struggles ceasing.  He saw her lips form his name, and now that he was sure she wouldn't blindly attack him, Ardeth removed the blindfold.

All the while, he took note of her condition.  Her dark hair was matted to her face and skull by rivers of sweat.  Celia blinked her eyes a few times, then her eyes focused on him.  Ardeth gave her a tender smile, grateful to see the recognition there.  Recognition, and gratitude.  For coming after her?  He wasn't sure, but he was still ascertaining her condition.  He turned her face from side to side, checking for any bruises.  There were none, but he did notice a red mark abrading her right temple. 

Tears made trails on her dirty face, and Ardeth gently brushed away the moisture with his thumbs.  She fell into him, sobbing quietly, and the chieftain wrapped his arms around her protectively.  O'Connell joined them, along with Alekos, commander of the Geban tribe, and after a moment, Ardeth pulled back.  He could feel Celia's body almost tensing. . .when he looked down into her face, he could see why.  She was trying to put a brave mask back into place.

Instead of commenting on it, he checked her bonds. . .they had tied her hands behind her back.  O'Connell saw as well and knelt down beside them, carefully untangling the knots.  A quick glance from his American friend told Ardeth what he needed to know.  Celia had tried to undo her bonds herself.  Her wrists were more raw than they should have been, even with the heat of the day and the kind of rope used.  Still, O'Connell was able to get her hands free, and Ardeth felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders.

She rubbed her hands over her face, still shuddering.  Respecting her need to reclaim some of her pride, Ardeth glanced back at his American friend and Alekos, silently asking them to give them a few moments.  Both the commander and O'Connell backed up, though Ardeth could feel two pairs of eyes burning into his back.  He gave that little thought, however.  Instead, he said softly, "We must leave here, and go to our camp.  Can you ride?"

Celia gave a little sniff, then whispered, "As long as I'm right side up, and not thrown over the back of a camel in a rug, I'll be fine."  Ardeth barely managed to stop himself from smiling at that remark.  She gave him a weak little smile and added, "It's okay if you smile, Ardeth, I won't get mad at you."  Ardeth simply inclined his head and motioned Alekos forward.  Together, the two Med-jai carefully lifted the woman onto the waiting horse, then Ardeth swung up behind her.  He made eye contact with his younger brother.  Good. Anatol was all right.

She leaned against him, whispering, "I hope this is all right. . .that I'm not breaking some taboo or rule among your people, but. . ."  Ardeth silenced her by drawing her more comfortably against his chest.  At this point, it was rather silly to be worrying about such things, but here again, she was trying to maintain her dignity.  Ardeth had done it enough times, he understood what she was up to, even if she didn't.  Slowly, hesitantly, her arms wrapped around his waist, and despite the heat of the day, she snuggled closer to him.

"There is nothing in our laws which says a rescued friend may not request support from a Med-jai.  Indeed, I would be a poor excuse for a friend if I withheld that support from you at this time, or any other time when you required it," Ardeth replied quietly. And I have already failed you once, he thought, I will not fail you again. Which was why he ignored the pounding in his head.  He would deal with his own difficulties later.  He still had work to do.

Celia was silent, and Ardeth wondered if she had fallen asleep or passed out.  Neither was good.  With his free hand, he touched her face, drawing it up and toward him.  Her eyes opened and focused on him.  He smiled down at her gently, and she smiled back.  Again, that brave mask was in place.  Not that he truly expected anything else.  A cough to his right drew his attention.  O'Connell handed him a canteen, saying softly, "Here. . .I think she could use some water." 

Ardeth accepted it gratefully.  He should have thought of that sooner, but his desire to get her away from this place had overwhelmed all else.  As he put Celia up on his horse, he had checked to see if any black-clad forms littered the sand.  Much to his relief, there were none.  None dead, and he had yet to be informed of the number of injuries among his men.  On the other hand, he usually didn't get that report until they were in camp.  One thing at a time.

.                     .                        .

It had been so ridiculously easy, Rick was still trying to figure out what would go wrong.  Then again, they hadn't figured on Jason Ferguson suddenly developing a conscience and cutting his sister free, then taking off alone toward Hamunaptra.  Ardeth had dispatched five Med-jai to go after him. . .he could only spare those five, as the rest would be needed in the battle.  That part had gone wrong.  There were more with the kidnappers than original intelligence told them.

But the battle itself was easy. . .Rick and Ardeth fought their way toward the camel which remained beside the carpet holding Celia.  Once they were within striking range, Rick began to take care of any of the kidnappers who came near Ardeth as he began pulling Celia toward safety.  Ardeth yelled something in Arabic which Rick didn't understand. . .however, the Med-jai did.  They swarmed in, reminding Rick of huge, highly annoyed black bees.

They weren't out of the woods just yet, however.  As Ardeth pulled Celia to safety, Rick turned slowly in place, taking out anyone who wasn't Med-jai.  It was while his back was turned that someone got through and slammed full force into Ardeth.  The impact sent the chieftain sprawling into Celia's carpet, and it started rolling away from them.  Rick blasted the sucker,  and Ardeth scrambled to his feet, chasing after the carpet.  Rick didn't know if Ardeth had also heard Celia's scream inside, but he wouldn't bet against it.

Rick watched Ardeth's back on the way down the sandy slope, as Ardeth had done for him so many times, and blasted any non Med-jai who came close to his friend.  He almost laughed when he heard Ardeth sooth Celia, telling her that she was safe and he didn't want her knee in his groin again.  By this time, there were only black robes still upright, so Rick knelt beside Celia and helped Ardeth untie her.

The poor girl's face was bright red, and Rick didn't think her tears had anything to do with it.  Being rolled inside that carpet had to have been hot.  She was sobbing quietly into Ardeth's robes, just slumped against him.  The commander of one of the other tribes. . .Rick thought Ardeth had said his name was Alekos. . .approached with Ardeth's horse, and after a look from his friend, turned away from the pair. 

Rick understood what Ardeth was trying to do.  He also understood what Celia was trying to do, and he could sure as hell respect it.  After everything she had been through in the last few days, if she needed a few minutes to compose herself, she would get that time.  After a few moments, the chieftain gently lifted Celia into his arms, put her on the horse, then swung up behind her.  Another Med-jai brought Rick's horse back to him, and Rick followed suit.

Nothing was said at first, at least, nothing loud enough for the American to hear.  He did see the way Celia curled against Ardeth, and the Med-jai chieftain's protective shielding.  However, he realized with a start that the other American was probably dehydrated and to that end, Rick removed his canteen from his pack.  He handed it to his friend, saying softly, "Here. . .I think she could use some water."

Ardeth accepted with a grateful smile, and shifted Celia in his arms until he could get a little water down her.  Celia was actually riding side-saddle, so it wasn't as hard as it could have been. Rick was actually reminded of taking care of Evy or Alex when they were sick.  Celia obediently drank a few sips of water, whimpering softly when Ardeth took it away.  The chieftain whispered something to her, gently kissing the top of her head.

Rick felt almost. . .dirty. . .watching Ardeth care for Celia.  Like he was intruding on something which no one else should be seeing.  Ardeth whispered, "I will give you more in a few moments, Celia. . .I know you are dehydrated, and you need water.  But I do not wish for you to be ill from too much water at once."  Rick removed a handkerchief from his front pocket and handed it to Ardeth.  His friend gave him a puzzled look, and Rick pantomimed face-washing.

Ardeth's dark eyes lit up and he mouthed a 'thank you.'  Rick watched as he dribbled some water on the handkerchief, then began gently wiping Celia's face and neck.  It had the dual purpose of cleaning her up a little and cooling her down.  Bastards.  They never intended for her to reach Hamunaptra alive.  Which, if Ardeth was right (IF??), would have made Khaldun very, very angry.  What was the fun, after all, in tormenting a dead woman?

The commander of the Geban tribe approached Ardeth with news of the other Med-jai.  None had died during the attack, but there were some injuries.  And all through the report, Ardeth's hand never left Celia's face.  Again, making Rick feel like a voyeur.

It only took a half hour to ride to the camp outside Hamunaptra, and all during that time, Ardeth talked to Celia in a low, gentle voice.  Rick couldn't understand half of what he said, and he was sure Celia couldn't either, but it really made no difference.  Celia seemed comforted by Ardeth's presence, by his voice, and so she rested.  Ever so often, Rick would glance over at the pair riding beside him, and each time, he saw rage contorting Ardeth's features.

Rick O'Connell had known Ardeth for seven years.  And never, not even when they had raised Imhotep, had he seen the other man look that angry.  The American was on the verge of asking Ardeth if this had to do with his attraction to Celia, but decided that might not be such a great idea.  While the raid had gone well. . .one of the zombies had been captured, there were no Med-jai dead, and the injuries were slight. . .Rick realized his friend wasn't feeling well.

As the Med-jai rode into the camp, they were quickly surrounded by wives and children.  Rick jumped from his horse as a boy took the reins, and ran to Evy and Alex.  Miranda was with a woman whom Rick didn't know. . .and who placed the little girl in Jonathan's arms.  Alex threw himself at Rick.  A glance over his shoulder told him that Ardeth had eased Celia into Garai's arms with a whispered instruction.  The old man nodded, then carried the American woman away.

Rick was vaguely aware of Evy asking him if anyone was hurt. . .Ardeth didn't look very well, and was Rick hurt?  What about Celia, why was Garai carrying her?  Rick cupped his wife's face in his hands and said softly, "I think Celia is suffering from heat stroke, maybe dehydration.  They put her inside a rug, rolled her up, then threw her over the back of a camel.  She's been in there for a while.  I figure she's being taken to a tent where they can cool her down."

He paused, then continued, "Don't tell him I said so, but I don't think Ardeth looks very good, either.  I think he's starting to get a headache again, but he's been focused on getting Celia to safety."  Evy bit her lip, looking very worried, and Rick added, "Evy, honey. . .don't push him.  He'll rest when he gets the information he needs.  The Med-jai didn't have any dead, but they do have some injuries, and Ardeth wanted to know their names."

"And now that Celia is safe, he can let go," Jonathan added softly.  He smiled then, bravely, at Miranda and said, "You see there?  I told you. . .your mum would be just fine.  She just needs to rest, and then we'll take you to her, all right?"  Miranda nodded, and for the first time, Rick looked at the frightened little girl.  He gave her a reassuring smile, and she smiled back.  A brave smile which reminded Rick of her mother.

"You listen to Jonathan, honey. . .your mommy's gonna be just fine.  Right now, though, they gotta make sure she didn't get sick.  When they know that, they'll come get you, okay?" Rick asked.  Again, Miranda nodded with that brave little smile.  Rick gently ruffled the dark brown hair. . .and realized Miranda hadn't asked about her uncle.  She hadn't asked about Ardeth, either, but he did see her looking toward the warrior.

"And Ardeth is okay?  Those bad men didn't hurt him again?" Miranda asked worriedly.  Rick glanced over his shoulder, to see Ardeth steady himself against his horse as he talked to Alekos. Damn idiot, he thought, conveniently ignoring all the times he had done the same thing.

Still, Ardeth was still on his feet, and Rick answered, "No, those bad men didn't hurt him again.  Why don't we get inside one of these tents and rest a little while."  Because if Ardeth does collapse, Rick didn't want this little girl to see it.  That thought startled him.  When, exactly, did he start caring about people other than Evy and Alex?  When had those protective shields started to fall? What did it matter, in the end?  Miranda was a little girl.  Her mother couldn't care for herself right now, much less take care of Miranda. . .why shouldn't he help to take care of her?  Why not, indeed?

.                      .                        .

Acacia Bey had been watching her children play when word came to the village.  Her brothers were nearby. . .carrying out a raid.  That thoroughly confused the young woman, and she pushed herself to her feet.  What was Ardeth doing out here, when he and Anatol were supposed to be on holiday in Cairo?  She gathered up her children, taking them to her younger sister Aleta, then went from there to her mother's tent.  However, Altair Bey was not there.

Instead, the first born daughter of Altair and Suleiman found her mother at the outskirts of the village, watching a small party of riders heading toward them.  In the lead was Kaphiri, followed by a young woman, a man, and two children.  Acacia's mother said quietly, "Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell."  Evelyn O'Connell?  The woman who had summoned Imhotep, then remained in Egypt to help Acacia's brother defeat him?

"Why are they here, Mother?" Acacia asked.  Altair shook her head slowly, but said nothing.  Acacia was un-nerved by her mother's silence.  Many adjectives had been used to describe Altair Bey, during Acacia's life.  Beautiful. . .stubborn. . . impulsive. . .over-protective.  The last was usually mentioned when discussing her relationships with Acacia and Ardeth in particular, though she was protective of her four remaining children.

But silent was never a word which Acacia would have used to describe her mother.  At last, Altair said softly, "I do not know, my daughter.  I only hope your brothers have not gotten themselves into another adventure."  She spat out that last word, as if it sickened her.  Acacia put her arm around her mother's shoulders, knowing all too well what her mother meant.  Ardeth in particular had barely survived the last 'adventure,' and he was still putting the pieces of his heart and soul back together.

As Kaphiri rode into the village, his first words were to reassure Altair and Acacia, saying, "There has been a raid, m'lady.  Yesterday, a young woman under our chieftain's protection was kidnapped from the bazaar. . .Ardeth successfully led a raid to rescue her.  The child on the horse with Jonathan Carnahan is her daughter." 

Acacia looked at the man, only now realizing that this was Evelyn Carnahan's brother, and saw that a small girl sat in front of him on the horse.  She was no more than four years old, a pretty child with a worried expression.  A quick glance toward her mother told Acacia that Altair was staring at the child as well.  Then a gentle smile appeared and Altair swept forward.  She said to the little girl, "I am Altair, mother of Ardeth.  Would you like to wait with me?"

The little girl looked up at Jonathan questioningly, and the Englishman nodded.  He eased her off the horse and into Altair's waiting arms.  Acacia watched in silence, barely able to hold back a smile.  Her mother had raised five children, had two grandchildren, and she could never resist another.  And Altair's fate was sealed once more as the little girl asked, "You're Ardeth's mommy?  You're pretty, too." 

Altair enfolded the child in an embrace, her smile brightening at the little girl's words.  Acacia almost doubled over laughing.  Pretty, was it?  Oh, this would be a new way for her to tease her older brother.  Pretty, indeed!  The little girl added, "Who is that lady?"  Acacia looked around, only to realize that the little one meant Acacia herself.  The woman looked back at the child, amused by her forthrightness.

"That is my daughter. . .her name is Acacia.  She is Ardeth's younger sister," Altair answered, carrying the little girl as Jonathan Carnahan, his sister, and nephew all dismounted.  Their horses were led away by young warriors in training, those whom had not yet taken the rites of manhood, and were too young to fight alongside the adults.  They had the skills needed to defend the village. . .but not Hamunaptra.  Not yet.  There had been many times, over the last sixteen years. . .ever since the death of her oldest brother. . .when Acacia wished she could keep these young warriors at this age forever.

Acacia once more found herself on the receiving end of an intense look, then the little girl announced, "She's pretty, too.  You're pretty, she's pretty, Ardeth's pretty, and so is Anatol.  Is everyone in your family pretty?"  Acacia almost lost control of her laughter at that point.  She was getting more and more ammunition to use against both of her brothers!  And she didn't even know the name of this little girl yet!  However, that was not important. . .what was obvious was that the child was quite infatuated with Ardeth.  Oh, how she could tease him with this!

"Yes, dear child. . .everyone in my family is pretty.  At least, I think so. . .but I am their mother, and I should think my children are pretty.  Now, you know our names. . .you must tell us your name," Altair answered patiently.  Acacia waited to take the Carnahan-O'Connell family members to a tent, as she wanted two things to happen.  First, to find out what the little girl's name was, and second, to hear what other wonderful bits of blackmail information she could use against her brothers.  After all, that was part of a sister's job, was it not?

"Miranda!  My name is Miranda Ferguson, and I'm four years old.  My mommy's name is Celia.  I think Ardeth likes her.  How come you don't have those marks on your face. . .you're Ardeth's mommy, you should have them, too," the little girl answered.  Acacia blinked, then looked over at Evelyn Carnahan O'Connell.  Marks on their faces. . .Ardeth likes her mother?  The Englishwoman was grinning broadly.  Why did that make Acacia very, very nervous?

Acacia's mother started to answer, then noticed Acacia still standing in the same place.  She glared at the younger woman, a glare which Acacia's older brother seemed to have learned, then honed as the leader of their people.  Acacia instantly moved toward the other newcomers.  She knew that Ardeth regarded Evelyn as another younger sister, and decided that the English adventuress would be her best hope of getting information about Miranda's mother. 

However, this wasn't to be. . .for as Acacia started toward the Carnahans, a great shout echoed through the village.  The warriors were returning home!  The Carnahans moved toward the returning warriors, and for the first time, Acacia realized that no mention had been made of Rick O'Connell.  She saw why now.  He was with her brothers, as one of the rescuers.  Acacia turned away from the returning warriors, knowing that her mother would want to make sure both of her boys were all right.

She headed back to her sister's home, where Aleta was playing with Acacia's two children.  Sometimes, when she looked at her oldest son, seven year old Darius, Acacia saw her oldest brother Andreas, when he was a small boy.  Acacia was a year younger than Ardeth (actually, she was eleven months younger, but that last month was ignored), and six years younger than Andreas.  But she had vague memories of Andreas nonetheless.

Aleta looked up as Darien threw himself at Acacia, and asked, "Is everything all right, sister?"  Acacia nodded, lifting Darius into her arms.  Her son had been born after her husband's death at Hamunaptra, during the first skirmish with the Americans.  She had taken another husband, who deserted the Med-jai not long after their child was created.  After his desertion, Acacia refused to take any more husbands. . .and Med-jai society did not force a widow to take further husbands after the death of her husband.

"Yes. . .it seems our darling brother cut short his own holiday, because a girl under his protection was abducted from Cairo yesterday morning," Acacia replied.  Aleta did not look surprised, but then, Acacia believed there were few things about their elder brother which could surprise Aleta.  Her younger sister was more like Ardeth in temperament.  Truly, Ardeth did have a temper, and he could be quite. . . fiery on occasion.  But he was far more level-headed than Andreas had been, even when he was a boy.

More level-headed than Andreas, and more level-headed than Acacia herself.  It was almost as if Ardeth had been given the common sense which Andreas lacked.  Perhaps the fate of her eldest brother had been foretold, and the ancient gods had given Ardeth the gifts he would need, in order to safely lead their people.  Aleta said quietly, referring to the news which Acacia had brought, "This should not surprise you, sister.  Have you ever known Ardeth to be anything but responsible and a protector?"

No. . .she had not.  Four year old Damara tugged at Aunt Aleta's shoulder, reminding Acacia of the little girl she had seen first with Jonathan Carnahan, then with her mother.  Acacia was on the verge of speaking, when there was a rustle behind her.  She turned, at the same time Aleta called, "Yes, Garai, is there something. . .oh, Allah."  She rose to her feet and beckoned the man into the tent.  For the first time, Acacia saw that he carried a young woman in his arms.

"My apologies, Aleta, but your brother asked me to bring her to you.  She's quite ill," Garai said.  Aleta motioned him to put the young woman on her own pallet, then knelt beside her.  It was, most likely, the American girl whom Ardeth had rescued.  Garai continued, averting his eyes as Aleta loosened her clothing, "Those dogs had her rolled up inside a rug.  I doubt if she was meant to see Hamunaptra."

Rolled her inside a rug?  Acacia turned away from the unconscious woman, and Garai continued, "She was shielded from the sun, but not from the heat, and there was no way she could breathe.  Ardeth managed to get some water down her, but she's badly dehydrated and she was drugged on the barge.  By the time we arrived in the encampment, she had lost consciousness."  Acacia turned back to the American woman, seeing the redness of her face from the heat.

"I shall need more water, to cool her down.  Acacia, the cotton dresses which Ardeth had made for me, on my sixteenth birthday. . .I shall need that, as well.  We must get her out of these clothes. Garai. . .do you know who did this to her?" Aleta asked, her voice shaking with rage.  Acacia, it was often joked, lived up to her name.  The thorny one.  But no one was foolish enough to think that Aleta was sweet and docile.  Sweet, yes. . .but her own temper could match Ardeth's, and it often did when she saw cruelty.

"Aywa, followers of Khaldun.  And. . .her younger brother.  He betrayed her to them," Garai answered as he headed out of the tent.  The two sisters looked at each other, Aleta's face growing cold at the mention of the Egyptian prince who was hated by all Med-jai.  Garai stopped at the entrance of the tent, and without turning around, added, "Do whatever you must, Aleta.  I will not watch her die a second time."  The two sisters once more shared a look before getting down to business. . .now what did that mean?

.                     .                         .

Aleta Bey was known among the Med-jai as a healer, of both the body and the spirit.  She did not take emotional pain away, as such, but she was an excellent listener.  And when it came to taking care of the sick and the wounded, she could be almost as fierce as her older brother.  Who was also her favorite brother, though she would have never admitted to it.  While their mother and Acacia fretted over Ardeth's tendency to ignore his own well-being, Aleta simply accepted it and found ways around it.

Scolding him had no effect. . .it only caused more harm.  Aleta was quite sure, as she set to treating her current patient, that her brother was probably hurt worse than he was letting on.  If that happened, he would be brought to her tent, and she would take care of him.  For now, however, her concern was for the flushed, unconscious young woman now resting on her pallet.

Aleta was only barely aware of her older sister enlisting the aid of her two children, Darius and Damara.  Instead, she was efficiently stripping the young woman down to her bare essentials.  Aleta was pleased that she had been wearing cotton underpants, and no corset.  Good.  At least this woman had some sense.  Aleta, like all Med-jai, was devastatingly practical, and she had no use for European sensibilities or fashion.

Even as she worked, Aleta was running what Garai told her.  Drugged on the barge.  She should be ready for the woman to vomit and retch, depending on whether or not she had eaten.  Perhaps it would best for the children to leave.  Aleta tended to treat all patients the way she treated her elder brother. . .or any other warrior. . . when they were ill or wounded.  It was bad enough that they were in pain.  They did not need others to witness their suffering.

As her niece and nephew finally found the cotton dress which Ardeth had made for her on her birthday, she told the pair, "Listen to me, little ones. . .I need for you to find Garai, and find out this woman's name.  It will help me when I take care of her.  Can you do that for me?"  The two little ones nodded, looking very proud to be assigned such an adult task.  With a quick look at their mother for a confirming nod, the pair raced out of the tent.

Aleta turned her attention back to her patient.  It was hard to tell her age, but Aleta put her guess at between twenty-five and thirty.  Her dark hair was made all the darker by its dampness.  Aleta muttered under her breath about what she'd like to do to the monsters who had shown such cruelty.  She had no patience with such things, none in the world.  To do such a thing went against everything the Med-jai stood for.

"And people call us cruel.  Ha!  I think not!  A true Med-jai warrior would never bake another to death, much less a woman who had harmed no one else," Aleta muttered angrily.  The woman shuddered, and Aleta deliberately made her voice as gentle as her hands.  She whispered, "Shhh, do not be afraid.  No one will harm you now.  You have my word on that.  Shhh, you are safe now."  She was rewarded as the woman slowly opened her eyes.

Aleta smiled and carefully dribbled water over the woman's lips and down her throat.  She whispered, "Yes, very good.  You are safe.  My name is Aleta Bey, and you were brought here by my brothers."  The woman licked her lips, drawing the moisture into her mouth.  Aleta continued, "Do not be afraid.  I removed your clothes, so I could put another dress on you.  No men saw you.  This dress is much cooler.  Do you understand?"

The woman nodded weakly, and Aleta nodded to her sister.  Acacia put the discarded clothes in a semi-neat pile, as Aleta carefully pulled the woman into a sitting position to remove her blouse.  To her credit, Aleta's patient tried to help, but was too weak.  Acacia said softly, in a tone of voice that usually only her children heard, "Be easy. . .let us do the work, and save your strength.  Your daughter will have need of you."

Daughter?  Aleta looked down at the woman, who mouthed a name.  Aleta leaned forward, and heard, "Miranda." Miranda. . .was that not the name of one of Shakespeare's heroines?  Or at the very least, one of his characters?

Acacia had also heard.  She nodded, explaining, "Your daughter is here, and she is safe.  She is very worried about you and Ardeth.  She is a very interesting child.  She keeps referring to Ardeth as being 'pretty.'  I am not sure if the other warriors will ever allow him to forget it!"  This time, Acacia's statement was rewarded with a smile.  Aleta smiled as well, and Acacia added, "My name is Acacia. . .I, too, am Ardeth Bey's younger sister.  And you are Celia Ferguson."

"Acacia. . .thorny one.  Anatol. . .told us.  Ardeth. . .too," Celia Ferguson replied hoarsely.  She closed her eyes, swallowing hard.  The sisters exchanged a glance, then Acacia put her hands on each of Celia's shoulders, supporting her upper body while Aleta slipped the dress over her head.  Once the dress was straightened, Acacia eased Celia back down onto the pallet. Impulsively, Acacia took her hand.

"Do you feel sick?" Aleta asked gently and there was the barest hint of a nod.  Aleta didn't even have to ask.  Her older sister immediately handed her a basin.  The younger sister glanced outside and Acacia nodded, again understanding.  As Aleta placed the basin beside the pallet, she said softly, "It is just you and I, Celia.  There will no one to watch. . .just me to support you, if it becomes necessary."

"Thank you.  Is Ardeth all right?  They hit him so hard when they took me, he shouldn't have come after me so soon," Celia whispered.  Hit him? Oh, brother mine, what have you done to yourself this time?  However, Aleta didn't verbalize this.  It was obvious to her that the American woman blamed herself for Ardeth's injury, probably for the kidnapping as well.  Aleta shook her head.  Not exactly the usual Westerner they saw out here.

"Acacia has gone to check on him. . .but please, do not worry about my brother.  He has a very hard head. . .it is something all five of the Bey children inherited from both our father and our mother," Aleta replied.  For the first time, too, she realized that Celia Ferguson had referred to Aleta's brother by his first name.  Very interesting!  Her brother only allowed people to call him by his given name, if he trusted them.

There was a weak laugh, then Celia answered in a low voice, "I am familiar with that trait myself.  I tried to warn him, I called out to him when the men attacked, but there was a fourth man in the bazaar, the one who hit him from behind.  If only there was something else I could have done. . ."  Her voice trailed off, and Aleta realized how close she was to tears.  Aleta's soft heart couldn't bear that, and she gently caressed the dark hair.

"This is not your fault, Celia.  Please know that.  My brother is our chieftain, he uses his own judgment.  Please do not dishonor him by blaming yourself," Aleta whispered.  She knew of no other way to put it.  Celia seemed to understand.  She nodded, looking very tired, and Aleta continued, "Rest now.  You almost died, and I will not dishonor my brother's choices by preventing your recovery.  Rest.  I will not leave you."

"If. . .you. . .see. . .Ardeth.  Tell him. . .thank you," Celia rasped out.  She was fighting off her exhaustion.  Aleta could see the fight she was putting up, and almost laughed.  No wonder Ardeth allowed this woman to call him by his first name!

Celia fought the weakness of her body with all the same ferocity that Aleta saw in Ardeth and other warriors after they had been wounded.  But as they did, she had to succumb to her body's demands for sleep and healing.  Her eyes slowly closed, but Aleta did not leave her.  She had given Celia her word, and until Acacia returned, she would not leave.  She would make sure that Celia was not alone.

Only moments after Celia finally fell asleep, Altair Bey entered the tent.  She didn't say anything at first, and Aleta whispered, "She finally went back to sleep.  I think she wanted to stay awake, to make sure Ardeth was all right. Mother. . .she said something about Ardeth being struck when she was kidnapped.  She tried to warn him, but he was hit from behind by an additional attacker.  Do you know of what she speaks?"

Her mother sighed and answered, "I do.  Ardeth collapsed just a few minutes ago.  He was hit in the head with a club.  He spent the rest of yesterday resting in bed. . .but it was not enough.  Would you see to him, and I will stay with this girl?"  Aleta looked at her mother with a measuring look.  She knew that Altair Bey loved all of her children, but she was even more protective of Ardeth and Acacia than she was of Anatol and Aleta.

Her concerns must have shown on her face, for Altair sighed and said, "My daughter, please. . .I do not blame this girl for her brother's treachery.  Tempting as it may be, I know it is foolish to blame her for something over which she had no control.  Especially not after what the Carnahans told me about her abduction.  As you have told me in the past, Ardeth makes his own decisions.  Please make sure your brother will not have any lasting damage?"

"All right, Mother.  Her name is Celia.  And I will check on Ardeth.  The last thing she said to me, before she fell asleep, was a request to thank Ardeth for her," Aleta replied.  She rose slowly to her feet, allowing her mother to take her place beside the pallet, and whispered, "Rest easy, Celia.  You are safe. . .my mother shall stay with you, and I will see to my headstrong brother."  With one last look at her mother and the sleeping American, she left the tent.