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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She slowly slid to her knees in front of Ardeth, her eyes never leaving his face.  This was the first time she had seen him since the rescue. . .and while she had seen him at that time, neither of them were exactly at their best.  He still looked tired.  But his smile for her was genuine, and Celia was terribly grateful that she was already kneeling.  His smile tended to have a devastating effect on her.

"Thank you for saving my life," she said quietly.  That was the only way she could say it, without turning into Niagara Falls.  She couldn't tell him about how scared she had been, or angry.  He dipped his head, and Celia continued, "I mean, I know that the others did the same, and I've been thanking them where I could.  Aleta took care of me after we got here, and I've thanked her for that as well.  But you made the decision to come after me.  You were already hurt, and you came after me anyhow.  I. . .I don't know how to say thank you properly for that."

"You already have," came the calm reply.  Celia didn't know what to say to that.  Ardeth continued, "I was responsible for your safety, Celia.  I did not reach you in time to prevent your abduction.  You need not thank me for doing something which had to be done."  Celia shook her head.  There was a part of her which felt a bit hurt that he regarded her as a responsibility, but that dissolved as he said softly, his eyes flickering ever so briefly, "And I wished to do it."

"You're wrong, you know.  I do have to thank you.  Aleta. . .well, I know you've been through a lot during the last few months.  You haven't slowed down since Ahm Shere, there have been too many things going on.  You were on your vacation. . .and then all this happened," Celia replied.  She looked away from him briefly, then looked back and said softly, "How do you do it, Ardeth?  How have you kept going, through all the pain and sickness and everything?"

"Because I must," Ardeth answered simply, "I know of no other way to be.  This is whom I am, and whom I have always been."  Celia shook her head.  That wasn't what she meant.  She accepted that part. . .that Ardeth was whom and what he had always been.  But. . .where did he find the strength to do that?  She knew he was but a man. . .that there were days when not even he was sure if he could go on.

"I know that, Ardeth.  I've never thought otherwise.  You do what you do, because it's what you must do.  But. . .where do you find the strength, to look past the pain?  Aleta and Evy both told me about the scratches on your chest and shoulders from that thing on the bus.  Evy told me about getting thrown around in the dirigible when it crashed.  You had a job to do, and you did it. . .but how?" Celia asked.

"How do you take care of Miranda when you are yourself sick?  You simply do it.  It is no different," Ardeth observed.  Celia gave him a Look, and he added with a faint smile, "Perhaps it is somewhat different.  You do what you must, Celia. . .as you said.  It was necessary for me to come for you.  I could not have lived with myself, if I had allowed a friend to die.  For any reason."  He can't stand to let people down. . . but what about people who let him down?

"That's why you sometimes put up with Rick O'Connell and his attitude?" Celia asked.  Ardeth stared at her, and she continued, "I got a taste of his attitude.  He was warning me off at the bazaar just before Jason. . ." Celia allowed her voice to trail off.  Jason.  She hadn't thought of her brother in days, hadn't let herself think about him.  She hadn't even thought about dealing with that particular betrayal.

"Warning you off how, exactly?" Ardeth asked, a slight edge in his voice.  Celia lifted her head to look at him, a bit startled.  And then she realized what he was asking her.  How was Rick O'Connell warning her off. . .oh, that might not have been such a good idea, bringing that up!  But it was too late now, and the idea of lying to this man didn't even register in her mind.  You simply did not lie to Ardeth Bey.

"He told me that he knew you were attracted to me. . .and wanted to know what I would do about it.  He. . .seemed to worry that I would use your attraction to me.  And wanted to know how I feel about you," Celia replied slowly, choosing her words very carefully to make sure she didn't make a bad situation worse.  Too late for that.  Ardeth's eyes flashed with rage, and Celia started to say something, anything to defuse the situation.

"He. . .had. . .no. . .right!" Ardeth hissed.  His hands were twisted in the blankets under his body, the body which was now quivering with suppressed rage.  A stream of Arabic was the next thing, and Celia was rather grateful that she didn't understand very much of the language.  Because she was quite sure none of it was particularly complimentary toward Rick O'Connell.  At last, Ardeth finally calmed down and said, "My apologies, I should not have said any of that."

Celia blinked, then asked, "Were any of those insults directed at me?"  It was Ardeth's turn to blink as he shook his head slowly, warily.  Celia replied, "Then don't apologize to me.  I didn't understand a word you just said anyhow."

Ardeth stared at her for a long moment, then he smiled.  Celia felt her heart skip a beat once more.  She really needed to stop that, before he gave her a heart attack.  Ardeth replied, inclining his head, "Shukran.  You have my thanks for forgiving my poor manners.  But I maintain O'Connell had no right to speak in such a way to you.  You have never been anything but honest and forthright in your dealings."

"Truth be told, Ardeth, I think he felt guilty.  I've been hearing that he tends to open his mouth first, and think later.  Well, I've actually seen that for myself, but I didn't realize how dense he could be at times.  But. . .I do think, in his own weird way, he was trying to look out for you," Celia answered softly.  She raised her hand as he started to speak, adding, "I'm not making excuses for him. . .he's very lucky I didn't deck him.  As it is, I ripped him a new one."

At Ardeth's confused look, Celia elaborated, "I. . .oh, how do I explain this properly? Okay.  I made it real clear that it was none of his business, and that the only reason I was putting up with his boorish behavior was because I realized it was caused by his concern for you."  Now Ardeth's smile returned, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter.  Celia added ruefully, "Besides, even though I'm not a lady, I still shouldn't be using language like that."

"In that case, my friend, it will not be required for me to. . .ah. . .rip him a new one?" Ardeth suggested with an impish grin. Surprised, Celia laughed outright, and Ardeth continued, his smile now almost smug, "I do have a sense of humor."  Celia laughed again, and the awkwardness of the last few minutes dissolved.  For several minutes, they just grinned at each other like a pair of idiots.

Celia finally said, "I know you have a sense of humor, Ardeth.  I would not. . . enjoy my time with you, if you didn't."  Was it her imagination, or was Ardeth Bey blushing?  Okay, time to change the subject.  She thought, then asked, looking around, "Do you have much opportunity to read?"  Ardeth brightened immediately, as if she had brought up one of his favorite subjects, and nodded, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm.

"While patrolling Hamunaptra, I often do take books with me.  When I was a boy, my father insisted that I learn to read English as fluently as I read Arabic and ancient Egyptian.  Since my uncle was the curator of the Cairo Museum, he had access to the library and would bring books to me every chance he got.  Since watching over Hamunaptra can be. . .time consuming, I read during my watches," Ardeth explained.

"Time consuming. . .in other words, tedious or boring," Celia observed and Ardeth gave a tiny shrug.  Celia didn't pursue it, though.  Instead, she asked, making herself more comfortable, "So, what kinds of books do you like to read?  Fiction?  Nonfiction?  I imagine fiction might even be boring, after some of the things you've experienced first hand.  I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the realities you face."

"Both, actually.  When I was young, my uncle first introduced me to the works of William Shakespeare.  And every time my uncle would come from Cairo, and I was away on my patrols, my sister would bring the books out to me.  My sister Acacia, that is," he explained.

He paused, then continued, "After my brother was murdered, and I found myself chieftain only a year after becoming a warrior. . .I had little time to mourn for his death, or for the injustice done to my sister."  Celia noted that.  He had said injustice, not dishonor.  However, she didn't interrupt him, and Ardeth continued, "The little succor I found was in reading.  I sometimes think that Shakespeare helped to save my soul after Andreas died."

Celia looked at him inquiringly, and he explained, "I was seventeen years old. . .my brother was dead, my sister had been raped, and I was now the chieftain.  I had seen my brother die.  I had no idea where to begin.  I felt totally lost, even more so because I realized that as the chieftain, it was my responsibility to take care of my people.  And I was so. . .angry.  I was angry with Lock-nah, with my brother. . ."

He fell silent, his eyes focused on a place and time far distant.  Celia didn't interrupt him, as she felt that she was hearing things that no one had ever heard before.  It occurred to her, too, that Ardeth still hadn't allowed himself to mourn for what had been lost.  Including pieces of his own heart.  After a moment, Ardeth continued, "I was in danger of losing my soul.  Especially since people who had never bothered with me while I was simply the younger brother of the chieftain. . .they suddenly. . .  I no longer knew whom I could trust, and who sought to use me."

Celia could believe that, and her heart broke for that young boy.  She had known for some time that Ardeth Bey was a strong, stable man.  But until now, she hadn't understood just how he came by that strength.  Understanding as she did about dealing with painful memories, Celia remained silent as Ardeth sought to gather his thoughts.  When he was ready, he said softly, "My uncle saw my rage and confusion, and brought more books for me to read.  And in doing so, he saved my sanity."

He gave a sweet smile then, unexpectedly, and moved by that smile, Celia asked softly, "Would you like me to read to you?"  She didn't know what prompted her to make that offer.  Just that it was the right thing to do.  And she was right.  That sweet smile widened, lighting up his eyes, and Celia rose to her feet, walking to the books.  She smiled, murmuring under her breath, "No Hemingway.  Good.  I can't stand him." 

Louder, she continued, "Now, what would you like me to read?  You have quite the interesting selection here.  Shakespeare, but you told me about that. . .Lew Wallace.  You know, if my memory serves, he was a governor at one point.  New Mexico, I think, but my history of the West is a little rusty."  She eyed 'Ben-Hur' as she spoke, then continued as her eyes fell on something familiar, "I haven't seen these since I was a small girl.  I realize you used these when you were learning English, but why did you keep them?"

"Because those primers were how I learned English, the basics of English.  For that reason, they occupy a special place in my heart.  We used those to teach my niece and nephew how to read and write English, and we will use them to teach my children to do the same.  You are familiar, then, with the works of Shakespeare?" Ardeth inquired.  Celia felt herself shiver involuntarily, though she wasn't sure of the reason. Whether it was because she was exerting herself, or because Ardeth Bey just shared a piece of himself with her that few saw.

She couldn't have said one way or the other.  Instead, she turned to face him, and answered with a wry grin, "That was required reading in my home while I was growing up.  My father was a man who set great store by appearances.  He didn't want us reading Shakespeare because he enjoyed the works. . .he wanted us reading him because he thought it made us sound intelligent. That, in turn, made him look good.  What's your favorite Shakespeare play?"

"Your father was a foolish man, but I have come to realize that over the last few weeks.  Appearances are often deceiving, and he proves it," Ardeth said bluntly.  Celia realized, on some level, that she should defend her father. . .but she really had no desire to do so.  She and Jason never mattered to him.  Only his wife, and keeping up appearances mattered to him.  Not his children.  Ardeth added after a moment, his voice gentling, "And my favorite has always been Othello."  Celia's head snapped up at that.

Of all the Shakespeare plays she had been forced to read, that was the one she hated most.  She asked softly, "Why?"  She was drawing up memories that were almost twenty years old, but she remembered clearly how that play angered her.  She had hated Iago, but even more, she had hated Othello, for allowing himself to be manipulated.  Hated them both with all the passion of her thirteen year old heart and soul.

"Because Othello was a fool who betrayed himself, even as Iago betrayed him, even as Othello betrayed Desdemona.  He allowed his jealousy, his fear, his. . .I believe the proper English word is 'insecurity' in this case. . .to cloud his judgment.  He knew Iago's lies to be that which they were, and he believed them anyhow.  It is a constant struggle, Celia, when you are in a position of authority. . .knowing whom to believe, whom to trust," Ardeth explained slowly.

He paused, his eyes locking on hers, then continued, "When I read Othello so many years ago, I stopped feeling so lost.  It also frightened me, because I could see the trap in which Othello was falling.  I could see it, and I feared falling into that trap as well. To do such a thing would be a betrayal of everything my parents attempted to teach me.  Of the Med-jai people.  And it would make me no better than He Who Shall Not Be Named."

"Because that was the same trap he fell into, only with Pharaoh and Anck-su-namun.  The same trap which Pharaoh himself fell into," Celia said softly and Ardeth inclined his head, never breaking eye contact.  Celia continued, feeling her way along this lifeline to understanding Ardeth which he had unexpectedly given her, "And the fact that Othello was a Moor just gave you one more thing in common with him.  The difference being, of course, that you were just a boy. . .and he was a man old enough to be your father.  But that was what saved you.  Because you could see that you might become like him." 

"You do your teachers credit," Ardeth answered simply, and Celia sensed that he wasn't talking about the teachers at her private school, or her parents for that matter.  He continued, "Yes, that is it exactly.  And every time I found myself losing my. . .losing track of that, I read from Othello again, and I reminded myself of what I may become.  I do not claim to be better than I am, Celia. . .I only try to be better."  And again, that chill swept over her. . .a pleasant feeling, for again, she knew he had gifted her with a piece of his soul.

"You're already ahead of the game, Ardeth.  Not everyone can say that, and mean it," she answered him in a husky voice.  She resisted the impulse to awaken his memories.  He was not yet ready for that, her heart told her that if he remembered now, he would push her away.  And Celia Ferguson was determined not to allow that to happen.  The gods had erased his memory for a reason.  The time to reawaken those memories had not yet arrived.  She added, "Is that what you would like me to read to you?"

Surprisingly, he shook his head and replied, "La.  Something lighter, one of his comedies.  A Midsummer's Night Dream.  Have you ever read that?"  She shook her head.  Her father had only permitted her and Jason to read the tragedies.  Jason.  Celia forced back thoughts of her brother once more.  She was not ready to deal with that yet, or the accompanying rage.  Ardeth said something rude in Arabic, then said, "Then it is long past time you did.  Come.  Sit with me."

Celia found the volume with the requested comedy, then returned to the blanket or rug which prevented sand from finding its way into places it had no business being.  She opened it and smiled, seeing the inscription on the front leaf.  'To my beloved nephew. . .may you find succor and comfort within these pages.  You will be forever in my heart.  Uncle Terrence.'  She made herself comfortable, and then began to read as Ardeth relaxed against his bedding.

.                     .                         .

She had found Uncle Terrence's inscription.  Ardeth could see it in her smile.  For some reason, though he had not shared that part of himself with anyone for many years, he felt it was right to do so with this woman.  Her eyes had filled with compassion and understanding. Not pity.  And she had not condemned an anguished, desperate people for turning to the only person whom they could.  She may have thought it. . .but she kept silent.

It would be so easy to. . .let go.  Stop fighting himself and fall in love with her.  Day by day, she grew more beautiful to him as he watched her play with her daughter, her determination to be a credit to those who taught her.  He had not seen her among his people yet, but over the last few days, many of his warriors had told him that the pretty American had thanked them for helping to rescue her.

One young warrior said, shaking his head, "She thanks us, when O'Connell never has."  The boy hadn't realized that Ardeth heard him, and the chieftain would not tell him, either.  He had to decide what he would do about the growing resentment and bitterness toward O'Connell.  While he had been resting during these last few days, Ardeth had not been totally idle.  He knew O'Connell was in danger of alienating the young warriors, whether he was Med-jai or not.  And Ardeth had no idea what to do about that, because O'Connell was not of the tribes.

When he was informed that Celia would like to thank him in person, Ardeth had done something which he hadn't done in a long time.  He chose to put a problem aside.  Trying to figure out what to do was giving him a headache, and Celia's visit would be a welcome diversion.  He had been right.  Ardeth found himself confiding in her, just as she often confided in him while they were in Cairo, telling her about what troubled him.

And while they were not chaperoned. . .they also were not alone.  Several times, Ardeth had been amused to see one of his warriors, or one of his sisters, or his mother, pass the entrance to his tent.  The likely story they would give was that they were checking on him, making sure that he wasn't tiring himself, but the more logical explanation (and likely) was that they were making sure Ardeth and Celia behaved like the adults they were assumed to be.

It should have made him angry, but he wasn't angry.  Or hurt.  Just somewhat resigned and rather amused.  Especially since several times, he actually saw disappointment in the eyes of a young warrior who would pass by the tent.  He would have to speak with Garai later, because the only things he heard from the young warriors were complaints against O'Connell.  From the disappointment in the eyes of that boy, it seemed likely there was some sort of wager among the warriors about the nature of his relationship with Celia.

Eventually, he turned his attention back to his companion.  For the first time in sixteen years, Ardeth could speak to another human being (outside of his mother and siblings) as a man, not as the chieftain of the Med-jai.  That was not something he even found when he was with the O'Connells, for his knowledge was what they needed.  Not the man.  And he found the feeling. . .liberating.  While it was true that each chieftain of the Med-jai was different, Ardeth found himself acting as. . .well. . .for lack of a better word, a king.

It was not how the Med-jai viewed it. . .Shakir Bey had always called himself a captain, and his son, for whom Ardeth was named, was the first to call himself 'chieftain.'  However, it was the best phrase that Westerners would understand.  He was a combination of king, general and visionary. . .but for the first time in too long, Ardeth the man was being allowed to emerge.  For that alone, it would have been far too easy to fall in love with Celia.  And if she were not the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, the chieftain would have thrown away his fears and. . .admitted it.

But she was that reincarnation, and she was meant for another.  The reincarnation of Rameses, who had sworn to find his beloved again in each lifetime to come.  He knew he should not spend time with her, because the more time he spent with her, the more difficult it was to fight his growing feelings for her.  But along with his growing desire for her, he also found peace in her company, peace he had not felt in so long.  He hated himself for his weakness, but. . .in the end, Ardeth Bey was not a god, but a man.

Even now as she read of Titania and Oberon, her voice lilting with suppressed laughter, Ardeth could not take his eyes from her.  She was not beautiful as Evelyn was, in terms of actual features.  But to him, she was beautiful.  He found himself wanting to touch her dark hair, her lips as she smiled.  And numbly, Ardeth realized it was too late.  Even as he fought himself, telling himself that he had only known her for a week. . .he knew that it was far too late.

She had quietly snuck under his defenses and touched his heart.  He had fallen in love with her.  Yes.  He was in love with her.  He loved her smile, and her laughter, loved her compassion and her fire.  The sight of her thrown across the back of that camel as if she was a piece of furniture had enraged him as few things had. . .as few things could.  And his relief when he found her still alive, though terrified. . .  He loved her.

Oh Allah, what have I done?  For even as he followed the traditions of the old ones, Ardeth had grown up among Muslims, and unconsciously adopted the habit of calling upon Allah, though Ardeth knew that he did not belong to him.  And none of the old gods had objected for none of them had claimed him as yet.  None of which helped him now with this terrible mess he had made.  What had he done?

Celia had stopped reading and looked at him worriedly.  She looked so worried about him.  Ardeth tried to smile at her, tried to encourage her to keep reading.  But his smile did not reassure her, and she asked softly, "What is it, Ardeth?  You look so sad." 

She damned them both then.  She reached out and touched his face gently, the barest of touches.  The pads of her fingers barely grazed his skin. . .but Ardeth inhaled sharply.  He should ask her to go.  Tell her that their conversation had tired him more than he had realized, and he needed to sleep.  Yes.  That was what he should do.  That was what he would do, what had to be done, if  he wanted to save them both. 

But he didn't.  Even as he opened his mouth, he was stunned to hear himself whisper, "May I kiss you, Celia?"  Ardeth blinked.  Where did that come from?  That wasn't what he wanted to ask!  That would further damn him, asking to kiss this woman who could not belong to him.  But it was too late to take the words back.  Especially when she smiled at him, her dark eyes filled with. . .oh Allah help him!

"I would like that," she replied softly.  Ardeth's body had decided to copy his recalcitrant mouth by leaning forward, instead of doing the honorable thing and ending this before he destroyed himself.  His hand slid around the back of her head, gently cradling her skull, then his lips brushed against hers.  It was a small kiss, but it served to send his world reeling.  When things finally righted. . .he was no longer in his tent.

And while Celia was still in front of him, she was no longer Celia.  Black kohl lined her eyes in the ancient Egyptian way, and her dark hair was darker.  A wig.  Of course.  She wore a white tunic-dress that was belted at the waist, and she smiled at him tenderly.  In ancient Egyptian, she whispered, "You work too hard, my love.  Rest a bit."  Ardeth, who was no longer Ardeth, stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her.

"You are too good to me, sweet Ardath.  I know not what I would do, if I had not you at my side," he sighed as her arms wrapped around his waist.  He rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He truly was exhausted, an exhaustion which had only hit in the last few moments, once he no longer had to pretend.  And with his treasured concubine, he never had to pretend.  For she loved the man, not the prince.

Ardeth came back to himself with a gasp.  Celia looked at him, worried.  Had he kissed her?  Or was that just a dream?  Celia whispered, "Ardeth?  Are you all right?  I didn't. . .I mean, did I. . .I mean. . .I offended you when I kissed you back, didn't I?"  She sounded very young and very afraid right then, and Ardeth immediately snapped out of his disorientation, remembering that Celia had her own insecurities.

"La. . .no, you did not.  Forgive me, please.  Something. . .very strange happened to me.  I know not what it was," Ardeth answered, still somewhat breathless.  What was happening to him?  Was this the gods' way of telling him that he had not been wrong to kiss Celia?  His mind spun with the implications.  He had heard himself, that other self, call Celia 'my sweet Ardath.'  It was the first time he ever had a flash of his previous life, and it shook him.

In his experience, people usually began remembering their past lives in their dreams.  Ardeth hadn't dreamed in so long. . .and if he did dream, he didn't remember about what he dreamed.  And in the end, it was no longer necessary. . .for as he struggled to understand what had just happened to him, Garai burst into his tent.  Ardeth was on his feet immediately, Celia bracing him with her arms around his waist.

The older warrior gasped, "My apologies, Ardeth, but word has come from Hamunaptra.  The five are all dead.  Commander Alekos is also dead, along with all but one of his group.  Khaldun has risen.  My lady Celia, I apologize. . .but your brother joined with Khaldun.  I am sorry."  Ardeth numbly heard Celia's gasp and put his arm around her. . .but his mind was racing.  He needed more information, and Ardeth the man once more faded into the background.




.                    .                               .

I will kill him, I will kill him, I swear I will kill him!  He has no right kissing her!  Absolutely none!  And how could she let him kiss her, when she knows that she was Ardath, that she belongs to Rameses? Anck cried out in rage.  Mathayus half-expected her to throw herself down in a temper tantrum, banging her fists and feet on the ground as if she was a two year old.  And he would have told her, once and for all, that Ardeth was the reincarnation of Rameses.  However, at that moment in time, he had other concerns.

So, instead of strangling her with her own hair (which he was sorely tempted to do), Mathayus focused instead on the meeting between the surviving Med-jai of the Geban contingent and his chieftain, once Celia was escorted back to her tent.  Mathayus had learned during the fight with Khaldun that the boy's name was 'Nicodemus.'  Like most others in the Geban tribe, he was of Greek descent, and his name reflected that.  He was eighteen years old, and the battle of Ahm Shere was the first time he had seen combat on such a scale.

He had been one of the boys standing at his chieftain's side, as the second wave of Anubis Warriors rose over the sand dunes toward the Med-jai.  Nicodemus had seen the fear in the eyes of his chieftain, fear which gave way to resolve.  And Nicodemus had known, just as many other young Med-jai warriors had, that he would follow Ardeth Bey anywhere. . .to the very gate of the Underworld, and beyond.  From Ardeth Bey, he could accept the lesson taught since childhood. . .fear did not make a man a coward.  Absence of fear made a man a fool.

So, when Alekos had asked for volunteers to accompany him to Hamunaptra, there was no hesitation on the part of Nicodemus.  The American who had participated in the kidnapping of his own sister had headed for Hamunaptra, for reasons none knew, but Alekos feared that Khaldun sought a human host.  They knew Khaldun was behind the attack in the bazaar, but what wasn't clear was why he sought the girl.

No matter.  Five Med-jai were missing in action. . .they should have returned the same night as the raid to rescue the girl.  They had not.  While Nicodemus was still learning to trust his instincts as a warrior, those instincts now told him that his brother Med-jai were dead.  If this was so, he wanted to know, and he wanted to know how they died, who killed them.  So he told his chieftain as he struggled to catch his breath. 

He got what he wanted.  When they reached Hamunaptra, it was to find the five men dead.  But they weren't just dead. . .they had all been tortured to death, their faces set in death masks of rage and defiance.  But that defiance gave Nicodemus hope, for he knew they died loyal to their chieftain.  That while he might have broken the bodies of his brothers, Khaldun had never broken them, and that gave Nicodemus hope that he could be that brave.

Even as his heart acknowledged that hope, his soul burned with fury at what had been done to his brother warriors. . .fury which coalesced into a desire for revenge.  But still, Nicodemus remembered the sight of his chieftain, battling his own fear to lead the Med-jai.  He drew strength from that image, for while he was young, Nicodemus was no fool.  To blindly strike out, without gathering all the intelligence about their enemy, would be foolish.

Khaldun chose that moment to make himself known to Commander Alekos and the three men who had accompanied him.  His eyes were glowing red, which was a description of Set or Seth.  Red hair and red (or blue) eyes.  But what startled Nicodemus as he and the other Med-jai fanned out around Khaldun was the flash of hazel in those red eyes.  Almost as if Jason Ferguson was fighting for control of his body.

Khaldun had greeted Alekos in ancient Egyptian, observing that he did not see the soul of his beloved cousin Rameses among them.  Nicodemus winced unconsciously at the contempt as he spoke of his cousin, then wondered why.  Why would he look for the spirit of his cousin among the Med-jai?  Unless. . .unless Rameses had been reborn as a Med-jai?  But if that was the case. . .who would it be?  Nicodemus had no further time to think on this, for Khaldun began his attack.  Mathayus lowered his eyes as the boy described the manner of each death.

He wanted to stand and fight.  He wanted to stop what was being done to his brothers in arms, his friends since his childhood.  But Alekos had grabbed him as he went to their aid, hissing, "LA!  You must not engage him.  One of us must live, young Nicodemus, and warn Ardeth.  That one must be you.  You will live, you will warn our chieftain."  The boy had struggled in the hands of his commander, but Alekos shook him hard and hissed, "Live today, fight tomorrow!  And now, it is your duty to live for the Med-jai!"

With that, he had pushed Nicodemus to the side and engaged Khaldun himself.  Much to the boy's shame, he had run, not pausing long enough to watch the death of his commander.  To commit to memory, as he had memorized the deaths of the other men.  But he heard Alekos cry out as he died, defiant even in death.  Screaming in rage, in ancient Egyptian, "I reject you, Khaldun!  I reject you!"

Nicodemus had ridden from Hamunaptra as fast as he could, tears of rage and frustration pouring down his face.  But Khaldun had not made it easy for him, shifting the sand as the Creature had before his rising seven years earlier.  Nicodemus, like all Med-jai, was an excellent horseman, but the boy found it difficult to keep his seat and to calm his frightened horse.  And just as he cleared the edge of the cursed city, an enraged howl exploded through the air.

Inside his chieftain's tent, Nicodemus took several shuddering breaths.  Ardeth knelt beside the boy, gently putting his hand on the young Greco-Egyptian's shoulder.  He said once Nicodemus was looking at him, "You did the only thing you could, Nicodemus.  The right thing.  There is no shame in following your Commander's orders." The boy nodded slowly, as if trying to accept that, and Ardeth continued, "You mentioned that it seemed that Jason Ferguson was fighting Khaldun's control."

"Aywa.  Several times, his eyes turned from red to hazel again.  And once. . . once Khaldun said something about how he hated his form, for the way Jason Ferguson kept whimpering and begging his sister's forgiveness, but Jason came to him, offering himself in his sister's place," Nicodemus answered.  Mathayus watched as Ardeth stiffened at this, his mind racing at what he had been told.  The Scorpion King had no doubt whatsoever that the chieftain was piecing together the sections of the puzzle.

And then, the attention of both Mathayus and Ardeth was brought back to Nicodemus, who was not finished speaking.  The boy shook his head, saying, "I just do not know whom this reincarnation of Rameses is.  He spoke as though it was a Med-jai, but who might that be?"  Mathayus looked at Ardeth, whose face had paled unexpectedly.  He was remembering the kiss he had shared with Celia, and the flash of insight he received of his previous life.  He was finally on the verge of remembering.  And once he remembered. . .there would be no going back.

"I believe. . .I may know.  Thank you for your report, Nicodemus, you may return to your tent," Ardeth said very softly.  The boy nodded and rose slowly to his feet, pain written in every line of his face.  Once he and Garai were alone in the tent, Ardeth continued, "I would like you to tell Celia that. . .in the end, her brother regretted his actions.  I know not if he can be saved, but perhaps that will give her some measure of comfort."

Garai nodded and Ardeth continued heavily, "You know.  You know who among the Med-jai carries the spirit of Rameses, who is his reincarnation."  Garai again nodded, his face solemn as he beheld the naked pain of his chieftain.  Mathayus hurt for him as well.  In just one day, he had finally acknowledged his love for Celia Ferguson and remembered his previous identity.  Ardeth whispered, "What. . .we need to speak with the elders, and the rest of the commanders.  A plan must be formulated, and we must learn how to stop Khaldun."

He looked up, his dark eyes haunted with pain and grief, "This is my responsibility.  Rameses cursed Khaldun three thousand years ago, and now I must pay the price.  For I remember, Garai.  When I. . .I remembered earlier.  I remembered. . .I saw Celia as she was then.  But I did not put the pieces together until now.  Rameses, reborn as a Med-jai.  I understand now.  I understand why I could not remember my previous life."

For the first time since focusing on the unfolding drama in Ardeth Bey's tent, Mathayus managed to pry his eyes from them, to look at Anck-su-namun.  The concubine was staring at Ardeth with a stricken expression.  She was shaking her head, mouthing 'no' over and over again.  At last, she looked up at Mathayus, tears shining in her eyes as she whispered, It cannot be true!  Rameses. . .he is Rameses reborn?

Mathayus inclined his head, grimly pleased, and replied, Yes.  He is.  That is why Celia allowed him to kiss her.  She knows whom he was. . .she has known since the night of her abduction.  Initially, the gods punished Rameses for his cruelty by having him reincarnated as the lowliest peasant, but they realized that there was good remaining within him.  He simply needed to be stronger. . .and over three thousand years, that strength was built up, through each life time.  But he would not forgive him. . .each time he received his memories of that lifetime, he would push away the reincarnation of Ardath.

And that is why his memories were wiped clean for this lifetime. . .by the time he remembered whom he was, he had already fallen in love with her again.  And she would not allow him to push her away any longer.  Oh gods forgive me for my blindness. . .Ardeth Bey is the reincarnation of the man my forever friend loved, Anck lamented.  It had taken her long enough, but now she understood.  Now it was time for the next phase to go into effect.

.                     .                        .

Her head did not want to stop spinning.  Ardeth Bey. . .a Med-jai. . .was the reincarnation of Rameses.  And not just any Med-jai, no, he was the Med-jai chieftain who bore her best friend's name!  Mathayus had told her that over and over.  To look beyond the tattoos, to the man behind them.  To the real man.  Why had she never listened?

Why had she assumed that Celia would betray that love? Because, foolish girl, an annoying voice whispered, you did that.  Why wouldn't she?  Why wouldn't she betray the man she loved, the man who loved her?  Why do you always assume that Ardath is any better than you?  She certainly never claimed to be. . .you were constantly putting her on a pedestal, because she was more sensible than you, and kinder, yes.  But she was not perfect.

But she WAS better!  She was kinder and stronger, smarter and wiser.  That is why she would not betray Rameses, because she was always stronger than I!  Imhotep was wrong!  I was never the strong one, that was always Ardath!  And now, because of my stupidity. . . Anck began.  She stopped, trying to think that through.  After a moment, she turned to Mathayus, who had been watching her in silence.

What have I done? she asked without preamble. What have I done, in denying whom Ardeth is?  Have I caused harm to Celia or her child? Mathayus looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head.  Anck relaxed.  She was still struggling with what she had just seen and heard. . .at least that was one thing she didn't have to fear.  Hoping she could come to terms with this revelation, she now asked, What comes now?

Now we wait, to see what happens in the confrontation between Khaldun and Ardeth.  There will be one, very soon.  Ardeth must speak with the elders, which is where he is going now, Mathayus answered.  She noticed this, and noticed that he was still wobbly on his feet.  She knew him to be Rameses reborn, but could not allow her heart to fully soften toward him.  At the same time, Garai was heading toward Aleta's tent. . .presumably to tell Celia about Jason.

Waiting.  That was the one thing she could never do well.  Looking back over her life, there were so many things she should have done differently.  Why had she stayed with Pharaoh's body when the Med-jai burst in?  Why hadn't she simply gone with him that night?  True enough, the royal brat Nefertiri had raised the alarm, but they could have still escaped together.  Or at the very least, they could have tried.

You denigrate Nefertiri for warning the Med-jai, Anck-su-namun, Mathayus said unexpectedly, but what would you have her do?  She saw you cheating on her father.  She saw you murder her father.  Her father, whom she loved.  Think about that, Anck-su-namun.  Mathayus circled around her, his dark eyes flashing as he continued, Remember how you felt when you watched Ardath lose her child. . .when she lost her life.

No.  She did not want to think about that, she did not want to think about seeing things from Nefertiri's perspective.  But it seemed with the revelation about Rameses, her mind was not obeying her at the moment.  The old rage surged within her, and Mathayus whispered, That was how she felt, Anck-su-namun, when she saw Seti die.  Her father, whom she loved and who loved her. Murdered by two people whom he trusted.

ENOUGH! she cried out, what more do you want from me?  I cannot hate that Med-jai for he carries the spirit of my sister's beloved, must you take everything from me?  What must I give? Both Mathayus and the voice were silent, and that was more than she could take.

I betrayed the man I loved, I. . .AGH!!  I am so sick of the demands you have made on me!  I am sick of never being good enough, I am. . .oh gods, forgive me, Anck moaned, sinking to her knees.  She wasn't good enough. She had never been good enough.  She had accused Seti of not loving her, but had she ever given him any idea of whom the true Anck-su-namun was?  No.  Ardath had never held anything back from Rameses, and he had given all of himself in return.

She had hated Seti because he never gave to her, but had she ever given to him?  Yes, she gave her body, but to Anck-su-namun, that was easy.  She had been doing that since she was very young.  Did she ever truly give Seti a chance?  Was she his possession because he sought to own her, or because. . .because she would only allow him to possess her?  Oh gods, what was happening to her?  She had never. . . never done this before!

Not since Ardath died. . .not since your link to decency was torn from your life.  When she was murdered, you no longer had that tie to decency and kindness.  Seti had tried to win your love, but you pushed him aside.  He was a lonely old man, and so he took what he could have.  You were too self-centered to think of anyone else but yourself, came that hideous little voice in the back of her mind.  Anck tried to shut it out, but the voice would not be silenced. 

NO!  Enough of this!  You must take responsibility, Anck!  Or there will never be redemption!  You keep making the same mistakes over and over again.  As Anck-su-namun, as Meela. . .it does not matter what your name is.  You have hurt people!  Pharaoh gave you a chance to be someone, and you threw it away!  You could have loved him, if you had allowed yourself to do so.  You could have fulfilled your promise to Ardath, and look after Rameses, but you did not.  Take responsibility for what you have done wrong, or we will be stuck eternally in this cycle! that voice demanded.

Listen to that voice, Anck, Mathayus advised, a disembodied voice over her head, it will lead you to redemption. . .and freedom.  As it led me to mine.  Are you not tired of this constant battle?  Of making yourself into a victim?  You have spoken often of Ardath's strength, and of that you have spoken truly.  But have you ever wondered, for even a moment, from whence her strength came?

Yes.  Every day of her life.  Mathayus continued, his voice curiously gentle, It came from never blaming others for something that was not their responsibility.  It came from not carrying responsibility that did not belong to her.  She shouldered the burdens that were necessary.  In order for you to be free, dear child. . .first you must know forgiveness.  One person must forgive you. Anck glared at him.

You sound like those followers of Christ that I briefly glimpsed in Meela's mind, she said petulantly.  And it wasn't like she really wanted to remember finding herself in an alien body, with the body's own soul inhabiting Meela at the same time.  Mathayus actually laughed, laughed at her as if she was joking, and Anck glared at him.  Forgiveness was not something which Anck understood (except when it came to Ardath, that annoying voice reminded her, Ardath and Imhotep.  Why should you not beg forgiveness of the two people whom you loved and whom you betrayed?)

Do you truly believe, Anck-su-namun, he asked almost mockingly, that because their beliefs are not ours, that they are totally worthless? That was exactly what Anck believed.  Mathayus shook his head and sighed, You still have so much to learn, child. The concubine started to protest, but Mathayus silenced her with a wave of his hand, saying silence.  It is time you learned more, Anck-su-namun, about the modern day Med-jai.

.                      .                        .

By all rights, Ardeth shouldn't have been up.  Garai knew that.  He also knew that his leader had no choice. . .he had to tell the Council of Elders about what young Nicodemus had learned while at Hamunaptra.  That was what Ardeth was doing now, while Garai fulfilled Ardeth's request to look out for Celia.  But right now, she was sleeping in Aleta's tent with her daughter cradled against her side once more.

The American woman had been exhausted, after what had happened between herself and Ardeth.  At her request, Garai had found Miranda, who had been playing with Darius and Damara and the other Med-jai children.  When he told her that her mother was back in Aleta's tent, she wanted to see her, because she had seen Ardeth.  By the time they had returned, Celia was sound asleep, curled on her side.  Miranda crawled onto the pallet bearing her mother, and curled up beside her.  She was asleep soon after, huddled against her mother's body.

That left Garai free to wonder about what was going on in Council right now.  Many years earlier. . .around fifty years after the beginning of their exile. . .the Med-jai had recognized that having only male elders was highly impractical.  As the twin children of Ardeth and Athena Bey had put it, there were two impracticalities to such a system, which had been introduced by Athena's Greek relations. . .or rather suggested.

First and foremost, the women and girls were just as affected by their decisions as the men and boys were.  Secondly, there would be times when a council was needed while the men were away.  Should the women wait to make a life-or-death situation until they returned?  That would truly be foolish.  Further, the women of their tribe were used to having a say in their lives. . .in Egypt, women enjoyed the same rights and privileges as the men of their social standing.

Thus, after only a short time of being denied that to which they had become accustomed, women once sat on the council as well as men.  As the wife of the chieftain, Altair Bey sat on the Council, and since Ardeth was unmarried, she maintained that position.  Her seat had not been gained automatically. . .especially since she was an outsider, but as the years passed and she proved herself to be wise and compassionate, she had been granted a seat.  Excellent timing, since her husband died only months later.

In the years before the Creature's first Rising, Garai knew Altair would often abstain from votes, to protect her son from charges of nepotism.  He had to win over the council on the strength of his own arguments, not on his blood ties to Altair.  But while she would not always vote for whatever her son believed was necessary, nor would she vote against him.  If Ardeth believed in it strongly, and convinced his mother of the importance of an issue, Altair would work behind the scenes to get it done.  Many times, in the days after Anatol and Aric rode to Hamunaptra after Ardeth, Altair rued not supporting her son more.

Especially after Garai revealed his dream to them, about Andreas.  But Altair had done what she believed right, what she believed would protect her son and her people at the same time.  No one could possibly ask more from her than that.  And now, a new issue was put before them.  The questions posed by Khaldun's return to the flesh.  He had been freed, he had a new vessel.  And he wanted revenge.

What none of them knew was, if Khaldun now had a body, why had he not left Hamunaptra?  Perhaps he was not free, after all.  Did the blood of Jason Ferguson only free his spirit, and give him a host body?  There was something here that made no sense, and Garai could not put his finger on it.  Nor was there anything he could do about it. . .nothing Ardeth could do, aside from tell the Council what he had learned.

Exasperated by his inability to do anything to help his chieftain, Garai turned his attention to Celia.  Miranda was still asleep. . .while her mother was in Ardeth's tent, Miranda had been spending time with both the O'Connells and getting to know the children.  Darius and Damara were fascinated by the little American girl, and she was just as fascinated by them.  According to a laughing Aleta, Miranda had been almost disappointed to discover that neither Darius nor Damara carried the same tattoos as their uncles.

There was a soft sound from the pallet and Garai looked over as Celia began to stir. She opened her eyes and blinked sleepily.  The half-mast hazel eyes gave him a once over, as if trying to remember what he was doing here, then recognition dawned a moment later. . .along with pain. Still, she gave him an equally sleepy smile and whispered, "This must be boring for you."  Garai returned the smile, and Celia continued, "Ardeth. . .is he all right?"  Garai hid a smile. . .he should have known that her first question would be for the well-being of his chieftain.

Ardeth had received a series of nasty shocks, although they started out rather
pleasantly.  Garai had learned that Ardeth had kissed Celia after she gave her permission. . .the barest graze of his lips against hers.  It was that light caress which had triggered his memories of being Rameses. . .but it was the story told by Nicodemus, about Khaldun's words, which had provided the rest of the information.

"He is well. . .speaking with the Elders at the moment.  I believe his niece and nephew are quite impressed with your daughter.  Or rather, with her ability to say so much without taking a breath.  They're also impressed with her habit of calling Ardeth 'pretty,' without embarrassing him," Garai answered ruefully.  Celia grinned impishly, looking quite young herself, and Garai continued, "I am glad you are not offended that we. . .checked on you."

"Of course I'm not. . .Ardeth is your chieftain, and one thing I've realized about the Med-jai over the last few days.  You are very protective of him.  Based on what I've heard from the young warriors who have come to Aleta's tent. . .she has acted as a translator for them. . .and from what I've been able to gather from them, Ardeth is greatly loved.  They say that while the Creature has risen twice, everyone knew it was simply a matter of time," Celia replied.

Garai knew this.  Nothing could stay hidden forever.  And. . .while he would never say this out loud, he had the strangest sense that Imhotep would have to rise one more time.  A final time.  And everything which had been wrong in the last three thousand years would be put right, at last.  It would have to be, to defeat Khaldun.  Garai had his memories of Sennefer, and knew that the circle was almost complete.

Imhotep, Rameses, Terumun, Nassor.  The circle which had killed and then bound Khaldun thirty centuries earlier.  Imhotep, Ardeth, Rick O'Connell, Jonathan Carnahan.  In Ardath's name, was how it began.  Her reincarnation would play a role in how it all ended.  Garai did not know what that ending would be.  He saw things, such as what would have become of the Med-jai, had Andreas lived.  But he could not see the future.  Celia asked softly, "Garai. . .what is it?"  The Med-jai looked into the eyes of the young American woman.  Once, she had been Lady Ardath, queen of Rameses' heart.  Queen of Sennefer's heart, if the truth were known.

She wasn't Lady Ardath any more.  But Celia Ferguson would still play a role in the final defeat of Khaldun.  Ferguson.  Garai said softly, "There is something you should know about your brother.  He. . .it seems likely that he is fighting Khaldun's control of his body.  The young man who returned. . .several times, he saw Khaldun's red eyes turn hazel.  And Khaldun said that Jason was fighting him.  There may be hope yet for him, m'lady."

Celia sat up, careful not to disturb her sleeping daughter.  She ran a gentle hand over the dark hair, her eyes flickering as she said softly, "But Ardeth may not have a choice, when it comes time to do what must be done."  It was an oblique statement, but Garai understood exactly what she meant.  She continued after a moment, "He betrayed me, Garai.  He made a deal with those monsters.  And I'm not sure I can forgive him for that. . .I don't know if I'll have the chance, even."  It took Garai a moment to realize that she was speaking of Jason, not Ardeth.

Once he did, he replied, "When the time comes, my queen, you will know.  You will find that strength."  Movement caught his attention and he turned his head toward the motion.  The Council of the Elders were out.  Ardeth didn't look particularly happy, but his face wasn't as stormy as he had seen it.  Which meant that the Council was as confused as Ardeth himself about what had happened?

Celia had seen it as well, and asked slowly, "What happens now?"  Miranda shifted slightly in her sleep, and Celia bent her head to kiss her daughter's hair, soothing the child.  Her eyes shifted back to Garai, awaiting his answer.  The Med-jai realized for the first time that Celia didn't correct him when he called her 'my lady' or 'my queen.'  Then he wondered if she had even noticed.  A half second after that, he realized why she hadn't picked up on that. . .because he had used those endearments in Arabic.

"You will leave for Cairo, some time during the next few days, with the O'Connells.  Ardeth wishes you to be safe. . .and while there will be no safe place if Khaldun is not contained, you will be safe for a time," Garai answered.  Again, Celia looked out the entrance of the tent, and the old Med-jai added, "There is a place he goes, when he is troubled.  A cliff overlooking the accursed city.  Go to him.  I will stay with little Miranda."

She wanted to go to Ardeth.  He could see it in her eyes.  A sleepy voice said, "Ardeth needs you, Mommy.  He's sad.  Isn't Ardeth sad, Garai?" Miranda turned her head and looked up at her mother.  Garai had been one of many Med-jai warriors who had fallen under the spell of this little girl during the last few days.  The Med-jai loved children. . .their own or others.  Many times in the past, when forced to kill seekers of Hamunaptra, the children of those seekers were absorbed into the Med-jai.  Whatever else the Med-jai were, they did not kill children, that most precious of all gifts in this life.

"Yes.  Celia. . .I know that Ardeth kissed you.  If he needs anyone right now, it is you.  Not his sisters.  Not his mother.  Not his warriors.  You.  I swear to you, on the love Sennefer had for Lady Ardath, that I will look after your daughter.  If you will look after my chieftain," Garai said softly.  Several emotions crossed over her face. . . guilt, embarrassment.  And then finally resolve.

But before she could speak, Miranda blurted out, "Kissed?  EW!!!!!!!!"  Celia looked down at her daughter, her eyes twinkling with laughter.  Then Miranda tilted her head to one side and added more seriously, "But it was Ardeth, so I guess that it makes it okay.  It tickles when he kisses me.  Does it tickle when he kisses you, Mommy?"  Celia's face turned almost scarlet with embarrassment.

Garai held his arms out to Miranda, and the little girl jumped into his hands happily.  Celia said, "In that case, Garai, I will take my leave of you.  Miranda Christabel. . .behave."  This was said with a 'mother' look which Altair always wore when admonishing her children, and a look which meant business.  Miranda responded with an innocent smile, and Celia leaned forward to kiss her daughter, adding softly, "I'll do what I can."

She left the tent, still moving slowly.  Garai folded his arms around the little girl and murmured in Arabic, "And that is all I ask of you, my queen, all any of us may ask."  He looked down at Miranda and asked, switching to English, "Would you like to visit your Aunt Evy?"  Miranda looked up at him, thinking about that very seriously, then nodded.  Garai somersaulted her in midair, drawing squeals of delight, then placed her on his shoulders, saying, "Then to the O'Connell tent we shall go!"