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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There was silence at the dinner table after Celia Ferguson apologized to Evy for the argument with her brother, a silence that lasted several moments. Ardeth made no attempt to break that silence, as he was more concerned with observing his companions.  He knew O'Connell well enough to realize the other man was getting annoyed with the Ferguson boy.  He also knew that Anatol was running out of patience.  Ardeth had felt his younger brother tensing up at the beginning of the argument.

He put his hand on Anatol's shoulder, squeezing it to remind the younger Med-jai to remain calm.  Celia seemed to have things under control, especially after she mentioned their grandmother.  Not their mother.  Interesting.  He also found it interesting that she accepted the possibility of things which others would call 'supernatural.'  She wasn't a spiritualist, and he wondered what had caused her accepting attitude.

After several moments of uncomfortable silence, while everyone ate and pretended nothing had just happened, Alex finally piped up, "Ardeth has been teaching me how to wield a sword.  That's right, isn't it, Ardeth?  Wield?"  Ardeth nodded with a smile, and the eight year old continued, "Miranda was dead on when she told you that women can fight, too, to defend their village.  Mum can fight pretty good, with a sword, and with tridents. . .do you know what they are?" Celia nodded with a smile.

With that established, Alex continued, "Maybe he could teach you, too.  You're about as old as Mum and she learned real fast!  OW!"  Ardeth hid a smile at the annoyed look Alex was giving his father, over the light tap to the back of Alex's head.  Then he looked at Celia, who was turning bright red.  Ardeth frowned at that.  Why was she embarrassed?  Because Alex had made reference to her age?  She was younger than Ardeth was.

"That's very kind, Alex, but as patient as Ardeth seems to be, I'm sure I would try that patience to the point of no return," Celia replied in answer, "I'm dreadfully clumsy, for one thing."  Ardeth merely lifted his eyebrows at her answer.  He had not yet lost patience with her annoying brother. . .so he thought it a fairly reasonable assumption that he could keep patience with her for a much longer amount of time.

"I would be honored to teach you to defend yourself, Celia.  There will be times when you will need to save yourself," he said.  Inwardly, he cursed himself, when he realized how he had sounded.  However, there was the faintest touch of a smile at the corners of her mouth, and a quick glance told him that she looked more amused than insulted.  Again, he was aware he was inviting further intervention from Evy. . .to say nothing of trouble from Jason Ferguson, but he would not retract his offer.

"My brother and I will be in Cairo for two weeks, Miss Ferguson. . .we cannot teach you everything, but we can teach you much," Anatol offered.  Ardeth looked at his younger brother steadily, and Anatol continued, "I mean, you and your daughter.  Miranda is the same age we are when we are first taught about combat."  Ardeth winced, having a guess how their guest would react to that suggestion.  After all, most Western women were appalled at the idea of their four year old daughter learning even rudimentary self-defense.

Celia surprised him.  She said thoughtfully, "That is a good idea.  Miranda will need to know how to defend herself against bullies when I'm not around.  Mind you, I don't want her starting fights, but she may not have a choice at some point in her life.  If you gentlemen are truly certain about this. . .then I agree.  You may have both of us as pupils."  Everyone was surprised by a happy cheer from little Miranda.

Several smiling faces turned to her, and she said happily, "Goody!  I like Anatol and Ardeth, Mommy, they're pretty!"  Ardeth almost choked on the piece of bread he had just put into his mouth.  Pretty?  Ardeth Bey had been called many things over the years. . .some complimentary and some not so complimentary.  Some were downright rude, by Med-jai standards or by Western standards.

But never in his thirty-three years of life had he been described as 'pretty,' much less by a child of four.  And much to his embarrassment, Ardeth felt a hot flush creeping up his throat, over his cheeks and continuing to his ears.  He resolutely told himself that he was not blushing, that Med-jai didn't blush, least of all their leader.  His traitorous body refused to heed him.  Especially when Evy said quite seriously (albeit with a mischievous gleam in her dark eyes), "You are absolutely right, Miranda. . .they are indeed pretty."

Now O'Connell was laughing at him, with his eyes, and Ardeth silently promised his friend retribution.  The other man returned a look which said, to use an American phrase, 'bring it on.'  Ardeth rather liked that phrase.  Short and to the point, just the way the Med-jai chieftain liked his communications.  Never mind.  Ardeth would bide his time, and just when O'Connell was least expecting it, Ardeth would strike back.  He allowed himself a bright, sinister grin, which resulted in a worried look from O'Connell.

After dinner, the group moved back into the sitting room, where they stayed for the next several hours.  One by one, they dropped off, heading to bed.  First Miranda, then Alex, then Jason Ferguson.  Anatol followed, until the only people remaining were Ardeth, Jonathan, O'Connell and Evy, and Celia.  Ardeth was a little surprised that Jonathan remained, but kept it to himself.  Jonathan had changed after Ahm Shere, and Ardeth was still figuring out the new aspects to his old friend.

Instead, as those last three bid him a sleepy 'good night,' Ardeth settled himself a bit uncomfortably on the davenport where he would be taking his rest during the next two weeks.  Unfortunately or fortunately as the case may be, Ardeth had long legs. . .which made resting on the davenport a bit on the awkward side.  However, he finally dropped off to sleep about twenty minutes after the last person went to bed.

And that was when the dreams came back.  He had been free of them for a few nights, being too exhausted to dream, but now they returned with a vengeance.  The jungle of Ahm Shere where he faced his brother's murderer for the last time. . .the desert sands where so many Med-jai boys died.  The onslaught of Anubis Warriors, hurtling toward Ardeth's own forces.  The mummy attack on the bus, the icy fingers of grief wrapping around his heart when Horus was shot out of the sky.  Despite the part of his mind which knew this was only a dream, Ardeth was quickly lost to the memories, the horrors, and the grief.




.                      .                        .




Miranda Ferguson had tried to sleep.  She really, really tried.  And at first, she did sleep, until Mommy came back into the room to go to bed.  Miranda awoke then, as she always did when Mommy came into the room.  She lay very still, but Mommy knew she was awake anyhow, and called softly, "Go back to sleep, honey.  We've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, especially if Ardeth meant what he said."

Well, of course he meant it!  Honestly, Mommy could be just as silly as Uncle Jason at times.  But at least she wasn't mean like him.  Miranda knew she wasn't supposed to feel this way, but there were times when she didn't like Uncle Jason very much.  She knew she wasn't supposed to feel that way, because she had been told that.  Not by Mommy.  Mainly because Miranda never told Mommy that.

She didn't like to see her mommy sad, for any reason.  She worked very hard at being a good girl, because of that.  Uncle Jason made Mommy sad enough, so Miranda had to be extra good to make up for that.  It was tiring. . .but Miranda liked it when she made her mother smile.  She liked that a lot.

Miranda pretended to go back to sleep, but gave up when she heard her mother's deep breathing.  It meant Mommy was asleep.  Miranda lay in bed, just listening to her mother breathe.  At least, until she heard a thud downstairs, and the child's curiosity got the better of her.  To say nothing of her imagination, which was creating all sorts of scary things in her mind.  The little girl slipped from her bed and toddled out of the room, then down the stairs, holding carefully to the banister.  She didn't want to fall down, after all.

At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, suddenly afraid of a new noise she heard.  Then she heard a word.  "La."  La?  La what? La-la-la?  It didn't sound like someone was singing.  It sounded like someone was hurting, and one thing Miranda could never resist was trying to make someone feel better when they were hurting.  She walked into the room, to find Ardeth lying on his side.  He had fallen on the floor.

Miranda frowned and padded to his side, her bare little feet making hardly any noise at all against the lush carpeting.  As she reached Ardeth's side, he cried out suddenly, and Miranda backpedaled.  But only for a moment.  Because a moment later, she heard soft sobs coming from the man on the floor.  Miranda quietly moved forward once more and sat beside Ardeth, gently petting his black hair.

"Don't cry, Ardeth. . .please don't cry.  It's okay," Miranda whispered.  Not only was Ardeth pretty, but his hair was soft too.  He moaned softly, then his eyes slowly opened.  Miranda stopped petting his hair, and now patted his cheeks, tracing the tattoos which had initially scared her.  She repeated, "It's okay, Ardeth, we won't let anybody hurt you."  His eyes cleared, but he didn't move.

After a moment, he whispered, "Miranda?  What is wrong. . .wh. . .oh."  He looked around, muttering something under his breath.  Miranda didn't understand what he was saying, but he shifted slightly on the floor, and Miranda pulled back.  He took several deep breaths, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.  The little girl watched him closely, partly to make sure that he was all right and partly to see if he wiped any of the tattoos off when he wiped away his tears.  After a moment, he asked, "Did I frighten you, little one?"

"A little," Miranda answered honestly, "I heard you go bump when you fell out of bed, and that made me afraid.  Uncle Jason said that some people can't be trusted, and that someone would steal from us on the boat.  I thought someone mighta been breakin' in to steal something from Mr. and Mrs. O'Connell.  I was afraid you might be hurt.  Ardeth, what did Uncle Jason mean about 'some' people??"  He just sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

"I am unhurt, little one," Ardeth replied.  Miranda thought he looked sad, and was on the point of saying so, when he continued, "I. . .was having a nightmare.  Remembering things that I wish to forget, but cannot."  Miranda didn't understand what he meant, but she did understand that he looked even sadder.  She put a tentative hand on his shoulder, knowing that it made her mommy feel better when she did that.

Ardeth made a funny noise in his throat, and put his hand over hers.  It felt big and warm, then Ardeth put his arm around her, drawing her into his lap.  Miranda settled herself happily against his chest, her head resting just under his chin.  She could hear his heart beat.  It was beating really fast, the way Miranda's own heart beat when she had been running.  She tried to wrap her arms around his chest, but her arms wouldn't fit.

So, she wrapped her arms around his neck instead.  Slowly, as Ardeth began to breathe normally again, his heart began to slow down.  The pair sat in silence for several moments, then Miranda said softly, "You were crying, Ardeth.  How come you were crying?  Mommy cries when she's sad or scared.  I don't like it when Mommy cries.  It makes me scared."  Ardeth tightened his arms around her.

"I am sorry if I frightened you," he said again, "truly, there is nothing to fear.  I only have bad memories, and those cannot harm you.  I will not allow them to harm you."  Miranda didn't say anything to that, though she thought it was a funny thing to say.  Why would he be afraid that his memories would hurt her?  Maybe he could make other people see what he saw!  There was another long silence, and Miranda felt Ardeth slowly relaxing.

Then she said softly, "I'm not afraid of you, Ardeth.  You scared me, 'cause you were mad at Uncle Jason.  But after you smiled at me, I stopped being scared.  You're pretty and you smile nice, and I like you.  You don't make my mommy sad."  She paused, then turned a little in his arms until she could see his face.  She put her hands on his cheeks, looking into his eyes, and asked softly, "Can I tell you something, Ardeth?  A secret?"

"I am Med-jai, little Miranda.  Keeping secrets is something at which I am very good.  I will keep your secret as well. . .and I will not think poorly of you," Ardeth said solemnly.  Miranda believed him.  She turned back around, snuggling against him until her head was once more under his chin, and she could hear his heart beating against her ear.  She wrapped her arms around his neck once more, and didn't speak until she felt safe once more.

"I don't always like Uncle Jason, Ardeth," Miranda said softly.  His arms tightened around her, and Miranda continued, "He makes Mommy sad.  He isn't nice to her. . .and he isn't nice to me.  I'm supposed to always like him, but I don't."  She felt Ardeth sigh deeply, then she felt herself being turned around on his lap, until her knees rested against his chest.  Ardeth put his hands on either side of her face.

"I told you, little one. . .you cannot make me think less of you.  Indeed, this makes me think better of you, because it means you wish to protect your mama. . . as she protects you.  I know that you do not like your uncle.  This does not mean that you are bad," Ardeth answered softly.  Miranda looked at him for a long time, until she was satisfied that he was being honest and not just saying things.

Then she shifted forward and hugged him hard.  She heard him grunt a little, especially when one of her knees slid between his legs.  Miranda remembered Uncle Jason making the same kind of noise once when she accidentally stepped between his legs, trying to get to something behind him.  But Ardeth returned the embrace fiercely, whispering something. 

She didn't ask him what it meant, because it didn't really matter.  The only thing that mattered was the sound of his voice, and his arms around her body.  He made her feel safe.  Uncle Jason made her feel scared a lot of the time.  She never knew what he would do, and that scared her.  This man, however. . .she knew this man would never hurt her.  Miranda whispered, "Ardeth?  What does 'la' mean?  I heard you say that, and I didn't think you were singing."

"It is Arabic, my language.  It means 'no.'  You heard it while I was asleep?" Ardeth asked.  Miranda nodded, her cheek brushing his hair.  She needed to think about this a little more.  She had never heard people talking while they were asleep before. . .maybe she should ask her mommy.  There was another long silence, then Ardeth continued, sounding very puzzled, "Miranda?  What did you mean, you did not think I was singing?"

Miranda again pulled back to look at him, answering, "You know, singing.  La-la-la?"  Ardeth stared at her in amazement, then his eyes lit up and he smiled.  Miranda really liked it when he smiled.  He gave a soft little laugh, then hugged her again.  The little girl didn't protest.  She liked his smiles, and she liked his hugs too.  She thought maybe she should ask again in the morning about marrying him.  Miranda was her mother's daughter. . .and she wasn't quite ready to give up yet.  Much less on someone who was as pretty as Ardeth was.




.                     .                          .





Back when she first learned she was pregnant with her daughter, Celia Ferguson had what was called a panic attack.  To put it bluntly. . .she was terrified out of her mind.  Her mother had never been particularly interested in either child, and the only mothering Celia ever received came from her grandmother, Annabelle.  But growing up, Celia only saw her grandmother once a year.  She was afraid she hadn't learned enough from Annabelle during those visits.

Celia had forgotten that while Madeleine Ferguson rarely paid attention to her and Jason, the mothering was often left to Celia herself.  Caring for the little boy felt to the older sister, who would often be awakened by the sound of her younger brother crying.  Without even realizing she was doing it, the small girl slowly learned to sense when her brother needed her, before his cries woke up the entire house.

It was an instinct which served her well as a mother.  Celia woke up at the slightest noise her daughter made. . .whether it was an infant cry for nourishment or changing. . .or her now-four year old child leaving her bed.  Celia waited about ten minutes, thinking perhaps Miranda needed to use the lavatory or get a drink of water.  When her daughter didn't return, Celia slipped on her robe and a pair of slippers, before heading downstairs. 

Contrary to what Miranda believed, Celia knew her daughter was uncomfortable with Jason.  As yet, Jason hadn't done anything to warrant Celia cutting him out of her life. . .but she did watch him closely, and she had decided that the first time Jason's vices got him into trouble, she would kick him out.  She didn't care about what happened to her, but there was no way she would allow her brother to place Miranda in danger.

So, she knew Miranda hadn't gone to Jason's room.  A quick check told her that none of the other adults had the little girl in their rooms, not that Celia really expected her to be there.  If Miranda had a bad dream, she would crawl into bed with Celia.  Which left one other place.  Downstairs.  The American woman made her way downstairs. . .and stopped.  She smiled faintly, seeing her daughter snuggling up to Ardeth Bey.

A smile which slowly faded when she realized that the chieftain's face was wet with tears.  She remained in the shadows, unable to move forward or back.  One thing which she wouldn't have expected from Ardeth Bey was tears, even with the unexpected look into his soul earlier.  Celia swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes from her daughter and this unexpectedly vulnerable man.  She smiled to herself as she watched her little girl ease the chieftain's hurts with that way which was Miranda's alone.

After several moments, Celia crept her way back upstairs.  She knew beyond any doubt that her daughter would be safe with Ardeth Bey.  She knew, too, that he needed the healing provided by a child.  She didn't have to turn around to know that her daughter would fall back to sleep in the arms of the raven-haired young man.  She knew, too, that he would fall asleep holding her.  However, something happened as she reached the top of the stairs. . .she was met by Evy.

The other young woman whispered, "Is Ardeth all right?  I heard him cry out. . . ever since we came back, he's been struggling with nightmares."  Celia noticed that Evy didn't specify where they had been, or what had happened.  That made her wonder. . .what happened which had caused these nightmares, and why Evy refused to talk about it in mixed company.  There was one other thing.  When they were traveling from the ship to the O'Connell house, she had heard mention of more pleasant scorpions. . .including a scorpion they had just faced.

What in the name of Isis did that mean?  However, Celia realized she wouldn't get the answer, not right now.  That was fine.  She could wait.  She was the mother of a four year old, and children could be the most maddening creatures of all.  Instead, she replied, "He's all right. . . Miranda is with him."  Evy raised her eyebrows questioningly, and Celia added, "She can heal whatever's hurting him.  She's one of those children who can make adults feel better.  Are you. . .never mind.  You're not ready to talk about whatever happened to him.  To all of you."

Evy sighed, answering, "It isn't that I'm not ready to talk about it.  I just don't think you're ready to hear it, much less believe what I tell you."  It was Celia's turn to raise her eyebrows, and Evy added hastily, "It isn't that I don't believe you're narrow-minded.  Oh no, quite the contrary.  But. . .some of the things which have happened to us. . .well, they must be seen to be believed.  I lived through them myself, and I have a hard time believing it."  Celia smiled wryly as the two women reversed course, moving silently back downstairs to the kitchen.

"My grandmother was taken by Indians when she was ten years old, Evy.  She lived with them until she was seventeen.  The things she saw and experienced, most people wouldn't believe.  She taught me that the logical and the rational have their place.  But there is also a place for what people call the supernatural, that which cannot be explained by logic or reason.  Maybe it's necessary for us to learn to trust each other first," Celia replied.

There was a long silence, then Evy said slowly, "I suppose. . .what if I told you that the hom-dai is real?"  Celia looked at her friend as they found seats in the kitchen.  She said nothing, though her mind was racing.  She thought back to the conversation at the dinner table that night.  But instead of concentrating on the words which had passed between herself and her brother, she focused now on the reactions of the others.

It didn't take a Bembridge scholar to realize that neither Rick O'Connell nor Ardeth liked her brother.  If she was really honest with herself, she would acknowledge that at the moment, she didn't like Jason very much, either.  And at the dinner table, their dislike of her brother seemed to have grown exponentially.  She closed her eyes, seeing their faces in her mind's eye.  They looked at each other several times, looking more and more worried.

Worry which turned to contempt, in the blue-green eyes of Rick O'Connell, when
Jason denigrated anyone who believed the hom-dai was real.  Coldness swept over her.  It was as if there was something Rick. . .and Ardeth. . .knew, something which she and Jason didn't know.  Celia acknowledged that covered a lot of potential ground, as she had just scratched the surface of the mystery that was Egypt.

But this something, whatever it was, indicated to her that the hom-dai was real.  She searched her memory, trying to remember if she had heard anything about strange happenings in Egypt, during the last several years.  Evy had met Rick here, Evy told her that in her letters.  And again, she acknowledged that 'strange happenings' covered a lot of ground.  There were the mysterious deaths associated with Carter's expedition into the Valley of the Kings in 1922.

At last, realizing that she would have to ask Evy, Celia said slowly, "I thought the tension at the table was because of my argument with Jason.  There was more to it?"  Evy nodded slowly, sitting down across the table from Celia, and the American woman continued, "Tell me."  She wasn't sure if she meant she wanted to know whatever Evy knew about the hom-dai. . .or what.  She wasn't sure what she meant.  She just knew she wanted to know.

"The hom-dai was cast three thousand years ago.  We still don't know who cast the hom-dai. . .whether it was the pharaoh or the Med-jai bodyguards.  But it was cast on a high priest of Osiris named Imhotep," Evy replied.  Celia felt a sudden chill as the details of her dream came back to her.  The priest. . .the two young concubines.  Prince Rameses.  Imhotep.  The priest.  Evy said softly, "Celia?  What is it?"

She debated whether she should tell her friend about the dream.  Well, if they were to really learn to trust each other. . .they had to start somewhere.  A trust had been built up between the two women, through their letters. . .but this was different.  Deeper.  More risky.

The thing which the American now had to decide was if it was worth the risk.  It was.  Evy had taken a risk, in trusting her with the truth about the hom-dai.  It was her turn now.  Celia took a deep breath and said slowly, "I had a dream.  There were two young girls.  Concubines.  About fourteen or fifteen years old, no more than that.  One of the girls injured herself, and her friend took her to this high priest.  She called him 'Imhotep.'  Evy. . .I can't remember where I heard that name before my dream, but I had to have."

"What were the names of the girls?" Evy asked, ignoring the last part of Celia's statement.  Her dark eyes were intent.  Too intent, and Celia started to get nervous.  Evy reached over and took her hand, saying softly, "Trust me again.  Just trust me.  Tell me the names of the girls in your dream."  Celia took a deep breath.  At this moment, it wasn't a matter of trust.  She nodded slowly and Evy gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Their names were. . .the one who was injured was 'Ardath.'  She was a foreign girl, raised by the Hebrew slaves, but she wasn't Hebrew or even Jewish," Celia replied.  She paused, thinking of the similarities between 'Ardath' and 'Ardeth,' then continued, "The other girl was Egyptian. . .raised in Thebes, the poorest section of town.  Her name was. . .Anck.  That's what Ardath kept calling her."  Evy turned white.

"Celia," she said slowly, "I think you should tell me everything."  Celia looked at her friend, and Evy continued, "Imhotep. . .Imhotep was in love with a concubine.  A mistress to the pharaoh, who was later to become his wife.  Would have, rather.  But. . .the important thing to us was. . .her name was Anck-su-namun."  Anck-su-namun.  Anck.  Celia looked back at her friend, making the obvious connection in her mind.  Evy was right.  This dream was definitely something Celia needed to tell Evy.  In detail.

.                     .                          .



To say Evy was shocked would have been something of an understatement.  As Celia explained her dream, the Englishwoman was running through her memories of being Nefertiri.  While she was in the afterlife, after being stabbed by Anck-su-namun, the rest of her memories returned.  Including her memories of her elder brother, Rameses, and his beloved concubine, Ardath.  Evy knew for a fact that Meela Nais had been the reincarnation of Anck-su-namun.

There were two possibilities for Celia's dream.  First, that she had been given the images to prepare her for something to come, just as Evy had remembered being Nefertiri before the awakening of the Scorpion King.  The other possibility was that Celia was herself Ardath.  Nefertiri hadn't known Lady Ardath very well. . .she made it a practice not to get too close to the Hebrew slaves.  She had been proven right, when her brother lost the woman he loved.

Still, that would explain why Evy hadn't sensed the other woman's previous identity earlier.  The first time she had seen Meela, in the crypt of the British Museum, Evy had 'seen' Anck-su-namun as well.  There was only one way to be sure.  Evy took a deep breath, still holding onto Celia's hand, and opened her mind to Nefertiri's memories.  It remained blank for several moments, and Evy was on the point of giving up, when. . .

Nefertiri watched silently as her brother carefully guided his concubine to a bench, easing her down.  She was six months pregnant, and Rameses had become even more protective of her, especially in light of her previous miscarriage.  Nefertiri felt herself start to choke on her jealousy.  It was so unfair.  Rameses had his Ardath.  Her father had Anck-su-namun to warm his bed, if not his heart.  Why did Nefertiri have no one to love her?

Evy's eyes flew open, and she found Celia staring back at her.  Oh dear God.  It really was her.  She searched her friend's eyes for a moment, seeking something, she didn't know what.  Celia just looked at her, puzzled, then asked, "Evy?  Are you all right?  You're looking at me as if I've just grown two heads.  Maybe the dream I had didn't mean anything."  Evy shook herself, realizing that Celia had just given her one of the answers she had been seeking.  Celia hadn't actually remembered being Ardath.  Not yet.

And it wasn't for Evy to remind her.  However, she remembered how she had felt, once her life settled down after Ahm-Shere, and she finally had to deal with those memories.  Once Celia did, indeed, remember that she had been Lady Ardath, beloved concubine of Prince Rameses, she would need support.  She would need Evy.  The Englishwoman said slowly, "Dreams always mean something, Celia.  It's just a matter of finding out what that something means."

Celia gave a wry smile, asking, "I don't suppose you have much experience with that, do you?  Gramma always used to tell me that dreams meant different things to different people.  That I would probably have to figure out what my dreams meant, on my own, because someone else would see things differently.  I just don't know how to figure this out."  Evy nodded, understanding that feeling entirely too well, as she remembered her own struggles to understand her own dreams. . .memories. . .before finally realizing she had been Nefertiri.

Encouraged, Celia continued, "I. . .all right, I know this will sound stupid, but I thought about reincarnation.  I have some friends back in the States who are spiritualists, and they told me about it.  But. . .why would I hear the thoughts of both girls, see from both points of view. . . .when I could only be one of them?"  That was what was confusing to Evy as well.  Why would she be dreaming about Anck-su-namun's memories, as well as her own?

Aloud, she replied, "It doesn't sound stupid at all, Celia. I. . ."  Evy stopped.  Should she tell Celia her own memories of Nefertiri?  Evy was concerned that if she did that, Celia would remember before she was meant to remember.  No.  Best to be safe than sorry in this situation, and Evy laughed at herself.  Who would have ever thought that she would ever think 'better safe than sorry,' but dying then coming back to life tended to have that affect on someone.  She said carefully, "I have memories of my own past life. . .past lives.  So it does not sound foolish to me.  I just don't understand why you would dream of both girls."

She remembered that Ardath and Anck-su-namun had been friends, very good friends.  Anck-su-namun had been different in those days.  Nefertiri hadn't really paid much attention to Anck, either, but she had been different.  Less harsh. . .gentler even.  It seemed to the young princess that any softness or gentleness within Anck-su-namun vanished with the murder of her best friend.  Just as Nefertiri's own brother had changed, so had Nefertiri's teacher.

All right.  Celia was Ardath.  That still left the question of who Rameses was, in this lifetime.  Evy knew from her own experience that past loves and hatreds often carried over into the current time, just as past relationships often did.  Her own relationship with Rick. . .Ardeth's assertion that Rick was destined to protect her.  Meela's 'past history' with Imhotep, as Anck-su-namun, and her hatred of Evy.

The odds were good that Jonathan had been Rameses in that past life, but for some reason, Evy just couldn't see it.  It was logical, it made sense.  But. . . something felt wrong.  She couldn't pinpoint what that something was.  Well, yes. . . Ardath had sworn to Rameses, shortly after their son was born, that she would always be with him.  The labor had been difficult, and Rameses feared he would lose her.  Ardath promised she would be with him, in this life and all others to follow.  Which was what troubled Evy now.

She just couldn't see Celia and Jonathan together.  Evy loved her brother. . .that was never in question.  But she just. . .the image of her brother and the quiet American woman just didn't want to form.  For one thing, Celia wasn't even remotely attracted to Jonathan. . .and he seemed to view her as another little sister.  So. . . who else was there?  Evy shook her head, turning her attention back to her friend.

Celia had been lost in her own thoughts, it seemed.  She stared into space, an unbearably sad expression on her face.  Evy squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the here and now, and said once Celia's eyes were focused on her, "We'll figure it out.  I promise you.  Now. . .we both need to get some sleep.  How does some hot tea sound?"  Celia managed a weak smile and she nodded, and Evy continued briskly, "Very good!  If you would be so kind as to check on Ardeth and your little miracle worker for me?"

Celia's eyebrows raised, and Evy explained with a smile as she rose to her feet, "The effect she has on Ardeth is nothing short of miraculous.  I've never seen him this relaxed before, and I know Miranda had something to do with it."  Celia grinned at that, her dark eyes lighting up with laughter, but she nodded and rose to her feet.  Evy smiled back, turning her attention to the all-important business of making tea.  She had just started the water when she heard Celia stifle a giggle.  Rather than call out to her friend, Evy joined Celia. . .and smiled.

She hadn't had a chance to look at them properly on the way back downstairs, but now, Evy could see Ardeth lying on his side on the davenport, little Miranda snuggled against him.  Her hand rested on his cheek. . .and they were both sound asleep.  For the first time in several nights, Ardeth wasn't haunted by nightmares.  It was as she had told Celia, just a few moments earlier.  Miranda's effect on Ardeth was a miracle in and of itself.  She wished, very briefly, that Rick could see how peaceful their friend seemed at the moment.

And then she was glad he couldn't.  Rick, no doubt, would tease Ardeth unmercifully about falling asleep, holding a four year old girl in his arms.  Still. . .the picture before her was breathtakingly sweet, and Evy found herself thinking that Ardeth was both protecting, and being protected by, Miranda as he held her.  The little girl's head rested gently on the warrior's chest, and Evy imagined the little girl could even hear the beat of the valiant heart.

She scolded herself for being so flighty. . .but it was a thought which stayed with her as she and Miranda's mother returned to the kitchen for their tea.  It occurred to Evy that perhaps she was behaving strangely. . .this was, after all, her first pregnancy.  A lump formed in her throat.  Her first pregnancy.  How many times had she wished she could have been the one who had carried Alex in her womb for nine months, and then given birth to him? 

In that instant, Evy felt a sudden, powerful jealousy of her friend.  Jealousy which quickly gave way to something else.  She had never been through a pregnancy. . .but Celia had.  Perhaps her American friend could act as her guide during the next several months?  Evy knew none of the men realized this, but Celia had lost her job at the museum, due to the Depression.  Her job was given to a man, who had a family to provide for.  Evy wondered how hard it would be, to convince Celia to remain in Egypt until the baby was born. . .




.                     .                          .




"She knows."

Mathayus, the Scorpion King, looked at his young companion.  Anck-su-namun had only been twenty-five years old when she died.  To a man who had betrayed everything he had ever believed in, by striking that dark bargain with Anubis, she seemed just a child.  A foolish child, at that.  Not that Mathayus had any room to talk. . .he had made his share of stupid mistakes.  Not the least of which had been that bargain with Anubis.

Mathayus moved slowly to the former concubine's side, saying simply, "Yes."  They both watched the tentative bonds of friendship, forged in missives, were strengthened with that cup of tea in a Cairo kitchen.  In that previous life, as Ardath and Nefertiri, the pair had barely known each other.  Nefertiri had feared allowing herself to care for her brother's beloved, and despite the pranks she and Anck-su-namun had pulled on Nefertiri, Ardath had feared going too far.  It was enough for her, that she had the love of Rameses.

Mathayus smiled faintly, as he read the thoughts of his companion.  She, too, was thinking about the pranks which the two young concubines had played on the princess.  Anck-su-namun had bitterly resented Nefertiri, for having a father who loved her.  Among other reasons.

It was in this case that Anck's love for Ardath often came into play.  The pranks pulled on the princess would have been far more malicious. . .dangerous, even. . .if Ardath hadn't counseled her friend against them.  As if hearing his thoughts (wasn't that frightening), Anck said softly, "She did not wish to harm anyone.  She once told me. . .she once told me that she only wanted to see Nefertiri laugh more."

"She has changed little," Mathayus observed and Anck nodded sadly, reaching out to gently trace Celia's face with the tip of her finger.  Mathayus swallowed hard, seeing the love in the gesture, and continued, "It surprises you. . .how little time it required, for Evelyn O'Connell to realize Celia Ferguson's previous connection to her.  Why?  Because of the time it took Meela Nais to remember being you?"

Anck glared at him, hissing, "Do not mention the name of that. . .that. . .that. . . doxy to me!  She is nothing!  Nothing of me was in her!  I wanted not. . .I had no wish for her to kill Evelyn O'Connell.  I wanted to face Nefertiri." Mathayus raised his eyebrows at that.  In the words of the Americans, Anck-su-namun had gotten her ass kicked when she faced off with Nefertiri/Evelyn.

However, he didn't say so, instead choosing to look back at the mortals below them.  Celia Ferguson was sipping tea in the kitchen with Evelyn O'Connell, while Ardeth Bey slept peacefully.  Contrary to what the mortals believed, there was no magic contained within the small body of Miranda Ferguson.  No magic save love, and that, Mathayus believed, was quite possibly the most powerful magic of all.

Or was that the magic to which Miranda's mother referred?  It had been so long since Mathayus had walked amongst the mortals, he no longer could tell what they meant at times.  And, much to his surprise, he realized he missed that human connection.  Perhaps that was why he hadn't argued. . .much. . .when Ma'at told him that Anck would be joining him.  One of the reasons why, of course.

The other being, he really did NOT want to find himself on the wrong side of the goddess.  Somehow, in a way that Mathayus did not understand, Ma'at had taken his soul from Anubis.  She had reminded him. . .live free and die well.  When he lost control of his life, he had betrayed both halves of that.  He had not lived free, in the last few years of his life, and he most assuredly not died well.  Neither time.

Mathayus forced himself to concentrate on the mortals, on what he had been thinking about only a few minutes earlier.  About the magic that was love.  Such a mundane little word, for something that had the potential to change lives, to change the world, to turn that world upside down.  Just as its counterpart, hate.  But in some ways, hate was just another facet of love, which would provoke an entirely new headache.

For now, he would concentrate on the mortals, and the changes wrought in them by love.  He wanted to remember what that was like, to love.  To be loved.  He wanted to remember what could be accomplished with love.

Three thousand years had not broken the bonds between the souls of Lady Ardath and Prince Rameses.  Love had given little Alex O'Connell the strength and the vision to guide his parents to Ahm Shere, and later to bring his wrongly murdered mother back to life.  Love had given Rick O'Connell the necessary fury to destroy the corrupted body and soul of Mathayus, the Scorpion King, and in a strange sort of way, had set him free.

Love had guided the actions and decisions of Ardeth Bey for the last sixteen years.  Perhaps they were not always the right decisions. . .but always, the choices he made were out of love for his people.  Mathayus was quite fascinated by Ardeth Bey.  In his own lifetime, the young chieftain would have been a worthy ally. . .or equally worthy opponent.  Perhaps a touch too softhearted, but that was part of the fascination.  He was a magnificent warrior, with a tender heart.

He seemed to find a way to balance the two halves of him, though he was struggling at the moment.  That balance was something Mathayus had lost in his later years, and the Scorpion King wanted to watch Ardeth, to see if he managed to regain his balance.  He could hear the chieftain's thoughts, and felt a lump in what would have been his throat, if he had still been alive, when he saw the memories of the battle at Ahm Shere.

Memories.  That reminded Mathayus.  What would happen when Celia Ferguson remembered the rest of her life as Lady Ardath?  Would she, as Evelyn O'Connell had, also remember her fighting skills?  Lady Ardath had never been as skilled as Anck-su-namun in the fighting arts, nor had she been as skilled as Nefertiri, but she had been competent.  If Khaldun had the courage to attack Rameses and Ardath in a face-to-face confrontation, Ardath would have survived.  But not even the strongest of men could have survived the dose of poison in the wine.  Not Rameses.  Not Mathayus himself, who had the blood of scorpions in his veins.

Much less a young woman who was still recovering from childbirth.  The royal physician had warned Rameses not to attempt for any more children at least for another two years, to give Ardath's small body time to heal from the birth of their infant son.  And much as it grieved Mathayus, he had seen into the mind of Rameses, and knew the prince had no intention of touching his beloved until her body finished healing.

It had grieved Mathayus, because he had seen himself in the grief-stricken prince.  After the loss of Cassandra, in the tenth year of his reign, Mathayus had spun out of control.  Just as Rameses spun out of control, following the death of his own concubine.  The Scorpion King had sought revenge for Cassandra's murder, and it snowballed.  First one enemy, and then another, until he became no better than the one who had preceded him.  And until he lost all sense of whom he had been, and from whence he had come.

Was that why he admired Ardeth Bey?  Because the determined chieftain reminded Mathayus of whom he had been?  At least in some ways.  Mathayus had more of a chance to exercise his sense of humor than the Med-jai chieftain did.  So strange.  Two very different men, separated by millennia, both of whom were mirrors to the soul of the Scorpion King.  One, a grieving prince, devastated by the loss of the queen of his heart.  The other, a solemn king of his people and a visionary.

Mathayus did not know much about Ardeth Bey's destiny.  He knew it was his fate to face the evil which had resided at Hamunaptra for thousands upon thousands of years.  It had infected Khaldun, then so many others since.  What Mathayus could not see was who would emerge the victor.  Long ago, he had boasted to Cassandra that he made his own destiny.  And to a degree, that was true.  But there were some things which could not be avoided.

He only prayed that Khaldun's defeat was among those things that could not be avoided.  For if the ancient spirit, which had merged with the jealous prince's soul, was fully awakened in the world, then the resulting chaos would make both the hom-dai and the Scorpion King's wrath look like child's play in comparison.  Mathayus smiled to himself, as something occurred to him.  He was barely aware that Anck was still staring at her forever friend sadly.  She would be all right for now.  There was something he needed to discover.




.                      .                        .




Celia and Evy stayed in the kitchen a little longer. . .just long enough for the tea to start to work.  Celia was already exhausted from everything that had occurred during her first day in Egypt, and Evy realized as they left the kitchen that she would need to help her friend up the stairs.  She glanced over at the sleeping Med-jai, and the little girl still tucked protectively against his chest and swallowed hard.  She would come back down in a few minutes, first, however, she had to get Celia back to bed.

It took a few minutes, as Evy was only a few inches taller than Celia, but the two women eventually made it to Celia's room, where the American collapsed gratefully into her bed.  Evy said softly, covering Celia up with her blanket, "You have no need to worry for Miranda. . .I shall retrieve her."  Celia nodded, drifting off to sleep with a sleepy smile and a faint sigh, as her body finally gave into its exhaustion.

Evy patted her friend's shoulder, then went back downstairs.  She gently removed Miranda from Ardeth's protective grasp, placing her on the table beside the davenport.  Evy shuddered, thinking she really should have moved it before they all headed to bed.  Luckily, it seemed as if Ardeth didn't hit his head when he fell.  The Med-jai opened his eyes sleepily, reminding Evy of an overly tired little boy.

She smiled, leaning over him as she covered him with the blanket, and whispered, "Go back to sleep, Ardeth. . .I'm merely taking Miranda back to bed."  The brown eyes regarded her for a moment, then slowly slid shut once more.  Evy gently smoothed his black hair back from his forehead, then turned back to Miranda, scooping her into her arms and carrying her upstairs to the bedroom she shared with her mother.

Once Miranda was safely back in her own bed and covered up, Evy realized she wasn't tired.  Sighing, she went back downstairs to the library.  She wanted to do some research into Rameses, and possibly Lady Ardath as well.  Her memories told her that Nefertiri's almost sister-in-law had died shortly after giving birth, but not what happened to the child.  Evy supposed it was possible Rameses had killed the child, but she didn't think it likely.  That would have been a betrayal of his beloved Ardath, and immediately after her death, he had still been reasonable.

Aside from torturing Khaldun to death, of course.  Evy shuddered, as the memory of that particular conversation returned to her mind.  Like her brother, Nefertiri had little use for their cousin Khaldun.  He was a. . .well, now that she thought about it, he was a great deal like that nasty little fellow, Beni.  In spite of herself, Nefertiri had pitied Khaldun as he died very slowly. . .and painfully.  Knowing, however, that he brought it on himself. 

It had been her brother's intention only to kill him, for taking the life of Ardath.  Unfortunately, when Khaldun mocked Rameses about the death of his concubine, mocked the young girl herself, he had sealed his fate.  Rameses snapped and tortured his cousin to death himself.  That had been the beginning.  After torturing Khaldun to death, Rameses had been sickened by the blood on his hands, and gave his infant son to one of the Med-jai.

Nefertiri had protested. . .she could take care of the baby.  Rameses didn't listen, however; and Nefertiri watched her nephew grow up as a Med-jai.  She knew why he had done it, of course.  The Med-jai had loved Ardath for the courage she had shown at her first meeting with Rameses, when she placed her own life in danger to protect a Med-jai child.  Evy stopped short, remembering that day.

Nefertiri hadn't been present at the time, but she heard about it from Rameses.  Khaldun had never been one of their favored cousins.  In terms of physical appearance, he was very pleasing to the eye.  But he had always been jealous of Rameses, often seeking to undercut him with Nefertiri herself and with their father Seti.  Nefertiri, however, quickly learned after a few wise words from Imhotep, who had been one of Rameses' best friends.

'Tiri,' he had told her, using the family nickname for her, 'Khaldun cares nothing for you.  He was not always so. . .but people change.  Hatred and jealousy has overridden the love he once felt for you and your brother.  He cares nothing for you now, only for the pain he can inflict upon Rameses through you.  So have a care, my princess.  Have a care that you do not betray your brother, in the name of your cousin.'

Looking back, she had to wonder now. . .was he warning her about himself, as well as Khaldun?  This was actually before her brother's first meeting with Ardath. . . before Imhotep's own first meeting with Anck-su-namun.  Evy sighed, closing her eyes, and the images of that previous life faded away.  But the memories remained of the light dying in her brother's eyes, as Ardath died in his arms. 

Well, the past was past, and the future would play out in its own time.  Evy knew this, just as she knew the child she now carried in her womb was a baby girl. 

How was it that Ardeth had put it?  Only the journey is written, not the destination.  Events were preordained, but not how the story would end.  Or, as her father often put it. . .everything happens for a reason.  Evy wondered, as she put the dishes in the sink, about this latest series of events.  Right now, Rick was being very accommodating, but what would happen when he found out that Celia was the reincarnation of another concubine?

Evy knew her husband was protective of her and Alex, sometimes overprotective.  Sometimes lashing out at people who had only tried to help.  Jonathan had told her about his less than warm reception of Ardeth, after she was kidnapped.  Evy remembered the bus ride back to the house, holding Ardeth's trembling body in her arms, and listening intently as Jonathan explained what had happened.  And Ardeth kept whispering, "Not his fault.  Not his fault.  Was afraid for you."

Well, yes, Evy knew that.  But that didn't excuse Rick's behavior.  Ardeth's arrival in England had saved her life and Alex's.  He had helped them save Alex a second time.  And while he hadn't told them about the bracelet killing Alex, Evy knew it could only be because Ardeth himself hadn't known that part.  She smiled to herself as she finished rinsing the dishes, and headed back upstairs.  No, when he knew something like that, Ardeth made sure they knew. 

So yes, Evy was concerned about how her husband would react when he learned they had the reincarnation of another concubine from Seti's court, here under their roof.  Ardath had never done anything to harm Nefertiri.  In fact, now that Evy thought about it, she often aided Anck in rather playful practical jokes on Nefertiri. . .thought Evy had no doubt the playful nature was Ardath's input, rather than Anck-su-namun.

Still, that didn't answer the questions she knew Rick would ask.  First and foremost, what was Celia's ultimate fate, her celestial purpose here in Egypt?  As the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, she had unfinished business.  Evy knew Ardath had to find Rameses again, that she would honor the promise made three thousand years earlier.  The trouble was, in this family, things were rarely that simple, especially when it came to past lives.  Rick was still struggling with the knowledge he had been a Med-jai.  And, they just found out that Ardeth didn't remember ANY of his own past lives.  Something Evy found very curious.

She had learned tonight that Ardeth was half-Greek.  In Greek legend, there was the River Lethe, which held the waters of forgetting and healing.  He served the ancient Egyptian gods (Evy couldn't remember if the Med-jai belonged to Osiris or his son Horus), but perhaps the Greek gods felt that he belonged to them as well.  That troubled her. . .Ardeth, of all people, should remember his own past lives.  He told them he thought he had always been a Med-jai.  Evy wasn't so sure of that.  And she wasn't sure why. . .it just. . .felt wrong.

It was important.  She knew it was important, his identity in Seti's court, and she knew it was important, why he didn't remember.  Of all people, the Med-jai chieftain, the keeper of Hamunaptra, would need to remember his past lives.  Why didn't he?  Unless. . .  Evy stopped on the stairs.  Unless the memories of those previous lives. . .one in particular. . .were so terrible, the gods sought to protect him from those memories?

Perhaps as a Med-jai chieftain, he would NEED to be protected from those memories, as he had far too many horrific memories of his own lifetime.  The men he had to kill, in order to protect Hamunaptra.  Evy had come to know Ardeth well enough to realize that despite his fierce appearance, he had a gentle heart.  And if his duty in this life weighed heavily, what might the memories of his past lives do?

Evy backtracked and gazed at her sleeping friend, for once, not tormented by nightmares.  She whispered, "I don't know whom you were, Ardeth.  But I do know this.  Whatever happened, it will not make me love you less, or think less of you.  Ardeth Bey did not do those things.  And I will not leave you to face those memories alone.  Sleep well, my friend.  You will never have to face your nightmares alone again."