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.

**************************************************************************************************

It ended up being easier to slip out of the house than he thought.  The previous day, while Celia and Miranda were lagging behind, and before the quadruplets of doom swept over him, Jason Ferguson had connected with three men who were interested in finding Hamunaptra.  One of them had been there, just in the last few months.  According to this man, he had helped to unearth a treasure beyond imagination, which was later lost.

But there were other treasures, he had told the young American, and you can help us.  There are things which you can do, to assure us safe passage through the desert. When Jason asked him what he meant by that, the man just smiled. You will see soon enough, Yankee boy, he had said.  Ignoring how much he hated being called 'Yankee,' the American did arrange to meet them on the second day, in the morning.  Jason had feared it would be difficult to leave, but he received an unexpected break.

That second day was the first day of his sister and niece's lessons with the Med-jai brothers.  The house was deserted, as the host family was outside watching the younger Med-jai teach Miranda basic skills.  Jason peeked out the window of the kitchen, to find his sister under a tree with Evelyn O'Connell and the Med-jai chieftain, watching.  Jason knew it would likely take most of the day before his sister even got her first lesson. . .his niece was terribly determined, and she insisted on doing something perfect for moving on.

It was a good attribute for a man to have, but out of place in a woman.  Or so Jason was often told by his friends.  Jason had never known any women who were not determined.  His mother had, in her own way, been just as determined as his sister and his niece.  Determined that her daughter would not be the embarrassment to the family that Gramma Annabelle had been.  Why, the idea that a member of her family had been raised by savages!

But Celia proved to be just as determined as Madeleine Ferguson.  She loved books and she loved history.  She ignored that she wasn't very pretty, and instead lost herself in her lifelong fascination with other cultures.  Their grandmother, Jason knew, was directly responsible for that, with her stories of growing up among the Indians.  He remembered his sister answering the questions of the Med-jai chieftain at dinner the previous night.

What she didn't tell the Med-jai was why she had become so interested in funeral rites, something which Jason remembered.  They had been seven and twelve, respectively, when their grandfather died.  Celia had been devastated, especially when she realized her grandfather would be cremated, rather than buried.  Annabelle told her that it had been her grandfather's wish, to have his ashes scattered at sea.  He had been a sailor, and it was how Annabelle met him.

All funeral rites, Annabelle told her granddaughter, perhaps to deal with her own grief, are an expression of love.  Because Annabelle had loved her husband, she agreed to have him cremated. . .according to his wishes.  And that was all right, because now, whenever Annabelle looked at the sea, she would know he was still with her.  For the rest of her own life, she would have the sea as a reminder of her husband. . .instead of a single grave stone.

Perhaps their grandmother had found solace, too, in telling Celia about the funeral practices of the Indians she had lived with.  Jason just knew that was where it began, and here is where it led.  To Egypt.  Because when she learned about the mummies of Egypt, she was drawn further into the mystery of this exotic land.  In the beginning, Jason had been disgusted by his sister's new fascination.

Until, he had found out about the riches of Egypt, in the tombs of long-dead kings.  Being a very practical young man, Jason didn't see anything wrong with taking gold from those who no longer needed it.  He was very much alive, and he needed it.  His family had been hit hard with the Depression, along with the rest of the country, and while Jason had hated his father, the young man missed having servants.  Celia didn't seem to care one way or the other, but she was just bullheaded enough to make her own way in the world.  Jason didn't know how.  He hadn't inherited the same determination which Celia had.

The determination she had inherited from the women of their line.  Gramma Annabelle.  She had lived in Canada for a number of years, in the province of British Columbia, when she was with that Indian tribe.  She had taught his sister that she had a power all her own as a woman, and not the feminine wiles of her mother.  No, she told her only granddaughter, no, you have a strength and a power that remains strong by being true to yourself.  She had no such words of wisdom for Jason, and for that, Jason had always hated both his grandmother and his sister.

It sometimes seemed to Jason that he spent half his life, tied up in hatred.  He had hated his mother, for forcing his older sister to be the adult in the family.  It was Celia who protected him from their father, and their mother was never around.  He had hated his father for his drinking and his rages, for Jason being afraid all the time.  He had hated his grandmother, for loving his sister more than she loved him.  Sure, he understand that Annabelle had loved him. . .he also understood that she only had a daughter, no sons, and she didn't know how to talk to him.

He hated his sister, for taking care of him, and for being so foolish as to fall for that liar, Carstairs.  She was supposed to see through him, didn't she know that?  She was supposed to take care of Jason, not the other way around.  And he hated his niece, for taking his sister's love from him.  For now being Celia's top priority.  And most of all, he hated himself, for being such a selfish brat.  There was a part of him which recognized the world didn't revolve around him.  The stronger part didn't care.

Knowing the two Med-jai, and O'Connell, were suspicious of him, Jason arranged his bed so it looked like he was still asleep.  It was a trick he learned from Celia, who used it when their father got out of control.  He remembered being six years old, clinging to his sister's hand as they left the house and went to their grandmother.  He had come to enjoy those nights, because they would spend a week with Annabelle.  They were safe with her.

Jason forced those memories to the back of his mind.  He was supposed to meet his potential business partners in the bazaar, in thirty minutes, and according to the timepiece his grandmother had given him, he would be running late.  The young man gave one last look through the window, then quietly slipped from the house.  If he thought he had left unnoticed, he was wrong.  There was one person unaccounted for, one who was not watching the fight lessons outside.  And he watched silently as Jason left the house. 




.                      .                             .




It was painful to say, but Jonathan Carnahan saw a lot of himself in young Jason Ferguson.  Jason was motivated by the same things Jonathan himself was, only seven years earlier.  Greed, a desire to live up to the glory of his father and determination of his sister.  Possibly even jealousy of his sister.  Jonathan saw that clearly in the young man.  Whether Jason was willing to admit it or not, he was jealous of his sister. . .almost blind and deaf with it, as the saying went.

That kind of jealousy led only to death and heartbreak, Jonathan had seen that clearly in the past.  Like his brother in law and Ardeth Bey, Jonathan had realized the American planned to go to Hamunaptra.  Like those two men, he also knew what a disaster that would be.  He should know.  He had lived through it twice already. . .both times, he had almost lost his baby sister.  And now, this little fool was prepared to throw away the lives of his niece and his sister.

Jonathan couldn't have said how he knew that would happen.  Maybe it was Jason Ferguson's naked contempt for what he saw as his sister's weakness and/or stupidity.  Jonathan had spent too much of his life being afraid and considered a fool not to recognize that expression.  God knew he saw it enough in the eyes of his brother-in-law.  But Jonathan could also recognize strength, intelligence and courage.

Again, he had seen it enough in his life.  From his nephew. . .cousin, if you truly wanted to be technical about it.  From the aforementioned brother-in-law. . .from Jonathan's sister.  And from their other houseguest, Ardeth Bey.  Truly a strange relationship with that young man.  Most of the time, Jonathan found himself forgetting that Ardeth was still young, only a few years older than Evy, and the same age as Rick.

It was easy to forget that he was actually younger than Jonathan.  At least, it had been until the previous night when the man Jonathan thought was incapable of laughing had tackled young Anatol to the ground and proceeded to tickle the younger brother until he was breathless.  Gone, for a brief time, was the warrior whom Jonathan had always known.  And, it seemed, Anatol had been as surprised by the emergence of the older brother, rather than the warrior and leader, for he had said he had missed his older brother.

So yes. . .Jonathan knew quite a few people with courage.  And he had known a fair amount of cowardice.  He knew that Celia Ferguson was no coward.  She was here, after all!  Leaving the relative safety of the United States for Egypt, not the safest place in the world for a young Western woman with a small child and the dubious protection of her younger brother.  And while the US had been hit hard by the Depression, the rest of the world found things even more difficult.  Coming all this way, to visit someone she only knew through letters. . .that was an act of courage in and of itself, though Jason Ferguson was too young, too inexperienced, too secure in his own superiority to understand that.

On the other hand, he had to admit. . .O'Connell probably would have made that same mistake at the age of twenty-five.  Jonathan had grown up in Egypt, as Evy had, so neither would have ever considered the dangers which Celia and Miranda faced.  It had, again, taken Ardeth Bey to point those dangers out.  Was Celia Ferguson not coming from a totally different society?  Had she ever been to Egypt before?  Did she know the dangers of walking through the streets of Cairo alone, particularly with a small child?

She did not.  She was warned about the dangers, and Evy reported she would take necessary precautions.  But she would still come.  However, Jonathan realized she had more sense than to go Hamunaptra.  Her contributions to the dinner table the previous night had demonstrated that she had more respect for the ancient legends.  He rather liked her rejoinder, regarding the parting of the Red Sea.  That was quite clever!

"Going somewhere?" a soft voice inquired.  Jonathan almost jumped out of his skin.  Damnation, would the man stop doing that to him?  He turned and glared at the owner of the voice.  Ardeth smiled, stepping out of the shadows and continued, "I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and excused myself.  Miranda is quite determined to accomplish as much as she can today, so it will be sometime before I am needed."

This was said dryly, and Jonathan bit back a grin.  Instead, he said softly, "I caught Jason Ferguson leaving the house.  I dunno about you, Ardeth old boy, but I have a bad feeling that boy intends to go to Hamunaptra."  Ardeth nodded shortly, the laughter dying abruptly from his dark eyes.  Jonathan hated doing that.  His Med-jai friend didn't smile nearly enough.

However, he continued, "There was a good space between him and his sister yesterday.  Plenty of time for him to hook up with unscrupulous characters, and that poor girl would know nothing."  Again, Ardeth nodded, but this time, a faint smile appeared. Oh, don't tell me, Jonathan thought with no small irritation, I've just wasted my time, when Ardeth has already sent men after him. He was close, he discovered.

"You are correct.  I had my men in the crowd yesterday.  He is meeting three men in the bazaar today.  They were instructed to go there at dawn, and wait for him to arrive.  I did not know he would be going to Hamunaptra, but I was suspicious. . .at the length he put between himself and his sister," Ardeth explained.  He gave a somewhat broader grin, adding, "Very good, Jonathan."  The Englishman found himself puffing up with pride at the praise.

"Well, then. . .since you Med-jai chaps have everything under control. . .could you please stop sneaking up on me?" Jonathan asked a bit plaintively.  This time, Ardeth threw back his head and laughed, his dark eyes sparkling.  The laughter startled Jonathan. . .and sent him tumbling through memories.  He no longer saw Ardeth Bey. . .but someone else.  Someone with black hair and dark eyes, and who laughed as steaming water was poured into his bath.  A man whose face was obscured by steam, but whom the Englishman knew to be his friend.

Jonathan. . .who was no longer Jonathan. . .sat opposite him in the steaming water, observing, *I am glad to see you so happy, old friend.  We have been on too many campaigns, seen too much bloodshed.  And too long since I have seen you smile truly, from your heart.  Were it possible for me to find that which I seek. His heart added, or, for that which I seek, to be possible for me. What on earth did that mean?

I am glad to be happy, my friend.  Until I met my Lady, I had never realized just how little I smiled. . .and laughed even less, came the response.  The other man sighed, sitting back and allowing the hot water to do its healing work.  There was a long silence, then the other man, Ardeth in that long-ago time, asked almost shyly, If I asked her. . .do you think she would consent to become my wife, the queen of my land, as well as the queen of my heart?

She would do whatever you asked her, my friend.  But I would not recommend asking her such a thing.  She would never be happy as a queen of Egypt, came the response from a third man, whom Jonathan recognized as Rick.  Only in this lifetime, he wore the markings of a Med-jai.  It was only those markings which allowed Jonathan to recognize the past self of his brother in law, for the sarcastic humor and one-liners which characterized his sister's husband were strangely absent in this Med-jai.  There was a long pause, then he added gently, She wishes only for your love.  Nothing more, my lord.  No grand titles.

I would give her the world, if she asked.  She already has my love, for all eternity.  If the gods should take me from her in this lifetime, then I shall find her in the next, and each lifetime after that, came the vow.  This met with silence, a reverent silence, for such a vow had never been spoken by this man before.  And Jonathan came back to himself with a start.  He found himself looking into the now-worried eyes of Ardeth Bey.  The chieftain asked, obviously the second time he had asked such a thing, "Are you all right?"

"Fine. . .I'm fine," Jonathan answered a bit dazedly.  That had been the strangest thing.  He knew the man in the hot tub had been Ardeth, in his previous lifetime, but he had never seen his face.  He had seen Rick's face clearly enough, but not Ardeth's face.  That was strange.  Jonathan looked at his friend, who still looked concerned, and asked slowly, "I say. . .do you remember any of your previous lives?"

He was unaware that his sister had asked the same question, and he quickly gave himself a mental kick when he saw the strange expression on Ardeth's face.  The chieftain answered slowly, "No. . .I know that I lived before.  But those memories are denied me."  There was a very real tone of fear in his voice, and Jonathan felt the foundations of his own world rock under his feet.  He had seen, and heard, Ardeth Bey frightened before.  But this was a different type of fear.

Why would the gods deny him his memories?  There was only one reason which Jonathan could think of, and he didn't like that one bit.  Ardeth Bey was one of the most courageous, most honorable men whom Jonathan had ever known.  The only explanation which sounded reasonable was that his friend was somehow responsible for a great atrocity.  But that couldn't be. . .could it?  True enough, the lives he took to protect the world from Hamunaptra weighed heavily on Ardeth's soul. . .but that was different.  How could Ardeth be responsible for a terrible atrocity?




.                     .                         .




Ardeth Bey had awakened this morning with a curious lightness in his chest.  He vaguely remembered Evy removing Miranda from his arms, so she could return the little girl to bed.  The chieftain realized just how exhausted he had been, following the nightmare.  Usually, he was much more alert when he woke up. . .if not for the exhaustion of the nightmares, Evy might have found a dagger at her throat.

Ardeth did feel better than he had the previous day. . .ever since Ahm Shere, he had found himself feeling weaker, less. . .capable.  Perhaps his brother was right about him needing a vacation.  He thought, however, that tonight, he would push the table away from the davenport and sleep on the floor.  It would likely be much more comfortable.  And he would need not worry about falling from the davenport and waking up anyone else in the house. 

Little girls should not be awakened by the sound of a body falling from a davenport.  But selfishly, Ardeth was glad Miranda had come downstairs the previous night.  He had forgotten how good it felt to have a small body cuddling against his own, trusting in him to protect her even while they slept.  It had been such a long time. . .and much as his nieces and nephews wished, they seldom had the opportunity to take naps when he was around.  Instead, because of the limited time they had, they fought to stay awake and enjoy their time with him.

O'Connell would have laughed himself silly (short trip, Ardeth thought privately), if he could have heard what was going through the chieftain's mind at the moment.  Evy, on the other hand, would understand.  The warrior sometimes wondered if it had registered with O'Connell that Ardeth was just a human being. . .that like O'Connell himself, Ardeth took pleasure in spending time with the small ones of his family.

Yes.  He would admit it to himself.  He was lonely.  He missed having someone at his side during the night, someone to hold and to hold him.  Ardeth Bey was many things, but he was not a coward, and he was not a liar.  He was lonely. . .and being with Miranda Ferguson had eased that loneliness, if only for a while.  He still blushed when he remembered how she had called him 'pretty,' but it was a welcome kind of warmth.

He found a different kind of solace in the time he had spent with Miranda's mother that morning, before he noticed Jonathan slipping out.  The kind found in another adult who understood your loneliness and shared it.  Due to the perfidy of Miranda's father, the young American woman had given up ever finding someone to love her.  She was regarded as damaged goods.  Stupidity.  Pure stupidity.  Had such a thing occurred within the Med-jai tribe, the mother would have been regarded as a widow and treated with the same respect.  

This morning, while Anatol went through the lessons with Miranda, Celia had quietly told Ardeth about her dreams the previous day.  Of Anck-su-namun and her friend.  Her forever friend, Lady Ardath.  The young foreign concubine was a popular figure in Med-jai legend, and Ardeth himself had been named for her.  Lady Ardath's story had struck a cord in Ardeth's mother Altair, perhaps seeing herself in that long-ago girl.

Ardeth could see her point.  Altair had come from Greece with her family, only to find herself eventually marrying the young warrior who would become the Med-jai chieftain.  Lady Ardath had come from. . .well, no one was entirely sure where she was born, though Ardeth thought it was likely she came from what was today Europe.  According to the stories he was told as a boy, she was discovered in a field of flowers by Hebrew slaves when she was but four years old.  The same age, Ardeth realized with a chill, that Miranda Ferguson was now.  And her new family called her 'Ardath,' which meant 'a flowering field.'

She grew up among the Hebrews, until she was about ten, when she was taken to the royal palace at Thebes.  There, she met Anck-su-namun, who became her friend and protector.  This was always difficult for Ardeth and other Med-jai children to understand. . .in the stories which involved Lady Ardath, Anck-su-namun was a loving, loyal friend.  But she would grow up to kill Seti.  It took time, as it always did, to understand that life was not black and white, and that people were a combination of good and bad.

As an adult, Ardeth thought it was likely that Lady Ardath had brought out the best in her forever friend. . .but no one would ever know what might have happened if Anck-su-namun had been given more time with her friend.  At the age of twenty, only days after giving birth to the son of Prince Rameses, Lady Ardath was murdered.  Rameses, who had loved Ardath with a passion beyond expression, went insane with grief.

Like Anck-su-namun, it seemed that everything good within the prince died with his concubine.  He gave his newborn son to Shakir Bey, the younger brother of Med-jai captain Hamadi Bey.  When he was small, Ardeth often asked his mother why Rameses had done that.  It was Altair's belief that Rameses was either unable to deal with the reminder of his beloved concubine. . .or he recognized what he was becoming, and felt unworthy to raise the son they created together.

As a man, Ardeth recognized the truth in his mother's words, though he hadn't understood them as a child.  He could almost hear himself asking, "But Mother, why?  Why did he not keep his son, and take care of him?  If the baby was all he had left of the Lady Ardath, why did Rameses ask our ancestors to take care of him?"  Altair had been unable to provide her solemn, confused young son with the answer.

But the adult Ardeth thought he understood now.  Ever since he heard the story again as a man, shortly after the first rising of Imhotep, Ardeth had felt a strange kinship for Rameses, another man who had defied the gods for the woman he loved. . .though in a very different way.  Ardeth's sense was that Rameses couldn't forgive himself for allowing Ardath to die, even though there was nothing he could have done to protect her.

Ardeth imagined loving a woman as deeply as Rameses had loved his concubine. . .then watching her die, being totally helpless to save her.  A prince of Egypt, in line to become the Pharaoh. . .and there was nothing he could do to save the woman he loved.  It must have shattered his sanity.  Ardeth had been told about the events outside the pyramid of Ahm Shere, of Evy's death and resurrection.  He tried to imagine how O'Connell must have reacted.  And all he could hear was a single name.  Rameses.

But he said none of this to Evy and Celia.  He merely told them that according to the records of his people, Lady Ardath had first met Rameses when she placed herself between a Med-jai child and harm.  Her son was raised as a Med-jai, and among Ardeth's people, her name had come to mean 'courage.'  Evy said, "Which is how an Egyptian chieftain came to have the name of a Hebrew concubine."

Ardeth inclined his head, replying, "A variation, yes.  And I am not sure from whence Lady Ardath came.  According to the records, she did have dark hair. . .but her eyes were a dark green or hazel color, and her skin was very fair.  I think it very likely that she was from what is now Europe, and could not remember the name she was given at birth."  It was then that he saw Jonathan leaving the house, and Ardeth followed him.

It wasn't out of suspicion. . .though Ardeth couldn't help the mischievous imp which demanded he scare the hell out of Jonathan.  It had been fun the first time he did it, after Hamunaptra sank into the sands of the Sahara.  He couldn't resist doing it a second time.  And found out that Jonathan had been following Jason Ferguson.  Ardeth had been informed early this morning of the meeting observed by his men the previous day.  And, one of his men got close enough to hear the conversation.  He had asked the trio to keep a watch for the men who had approached Jason Ferguson.

There was one other thing which troubled Ardeth, as he returned to the women.  One of many things, actually. . .but this concerned Jason Ferguson.  How had the men known to approach him about Hamunaptra?  Hopefully, his men would learn the answer to that.  Another thing which caused him concern was how Jonathan seemed so distant, as if he was no longer in Cairo with Ardeth and the others.  What had happened to him?

The final thing which worried Ardeth was the very conversation with Celia and Evy, only a few minutes earlier.  He knew Evy believed that Celia was the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, and certainly, from the stories which Ardeth heard as a child, he could see many similarities between the two women.  Both quiet women, underestimated as being weak and stupid by those who didn't know any better.  Evy was Nefertiri in that long ago life. 

O'Connell, whether he wanted to believe it or not, was also Med-jai in that life time.  The question which remained was. . .why couldn't Ardeth remember his own previous life?  The logical theory said he was the reincarnation of Hamadi Bey, the Med-jai captain who had lost his head for pronouncing the hom-dai on Imhotep, before Rameses had a chance to exert his own justice, as insane as that justice was by then.

But. . .it felt wrong.  So. . .if he wasn't Hamadi, then who was he?  And why did he feel this strange dread creeping through him whenever he thought about that previous lifetime?  He had been there.  He could feel it.  But every time he tried to relax himself enough to allow the visions or dreams to come. . .the memories. . .it was always the same.  Blackness.  Fear.  'You are not ready to see, child.'  What did it mean?

.                     .                         .



His name had been Terumun. . .'loved by his father.'  It had been given to him, a small orphan child found on the streets of Thebes.  Not unlike his incarnation in this lifetime.  The Med-jai took him in and raised him.  They were his family. . .they were his fathers.  He would have willingly sacrificed his very soul, to prevent the hom-dai from being cast.  For Terumun could see what would happen to the Med-jai, if such a thing came to pass.

Not because he was a seer, or had access to a seer, but because he had grown up with the young prince Rameses.  There were few who knew him as well, or better, than Terumun had.  He had watched Rameses struggle through loss after loss, until the only people allowed past his protective defenses were his little circle of friends.  Terumun himself, who was assigned to protect Princess Nefertiri at public functions in the beginning, until he won her trust; Imhotep; and Nassor, a young soldier who had saved Rameses' life in his very first battle, after the prince's Med-jai protector was cut down.

Into that small, private circle came Lady Ardath.  Terumun had been surprised when his friend and prince fell in love with the concubine.  Truly, she was exotic, but was she strong enough to stand up to the often-fiery temper of the prince?  He didn't really regard the actions she took to protect one of the Med-jai children as proof of her strength or courage.  However, at the time he hadn't known, either, that Khaldun could have had her beaten, for thwarting him.  That put an entirely different spin on things.

And, he was counseled by the older Med-jai. . .and their wives. . .that Lady Ardath was, indeed, strong enough for Rameses.  What he wasn't to learn, until much, much later, was that the concubine was actually stronger.  Because after Ardath was foully murdered by the same Khaldun who had attempted to strike a high-spirited Med-jai child, the Rameses whom Terumun had grown up with disappeared.

A raging demon took his place. . .he tortured Khaldun to death, for murdering Lady Ardath and bragging about it.  He gave his newborn son to Shakir Bey, the younger brother of the current Med-jai captain, to raise.  Hamadi Bey had failed to protect Lady Ardath. . .it was not within Rameses' power to remove Hamadi as the Med-jai captain.  That was under Seti's authority, and Seti decreed that Ardath's murder, tragic as it was, could not have been prevented by the Med-jai.  But Rameses was not mollified, and he hissed that perhaps Shakir could do a better job of protecting the babe than Hamadi had done of protecting the mother of his child.

He had started withdrawing, too, from all three of his friends.  Terumun and Imhotep were both shut out, though Imhotep assured the worried young Med-jai that the prince just needed time alone.  He had been shocked by Khaldun's torture and murder, but not too shocked.  Imhotep acknowledged that he would have killed anyone who harmed the woman he loved.  But to boast of murdering a helpless woman, a girl still weak from childbirth?  For that, Imhotep growled in fury, Khaldun deserved no mercy.

Only Nassor could still get through to him.  Nassor, of the ribald humor, and the only one of Rameses' friends who had ever bothered to look past Ardath's quiet nature to the core of pure iron.  Maybe that's why Rameses never truly shut him out. . .because Nassor had seen the real Ardath, and treated her as a little sister.  Something that didn't happen with Imhotep and Terumun until it was too late. 

But even with Nassor, the only thing truly keeping Rameses in balance was Seti himself.  When Seti was murdered by Imhotep and Anck-su-namun, that balance would forever be lost.  And Hamadi Bey made it worse. . .himself driven mad with rage and guilt, Hamadi had pronounced the hom-dai on Imhotep, without the permission of Rameses.  With that one rash act, Hamadi forfeited his own life and damned his people.

He had seen all this as he watched helplessly.  Watched as his former friend was forced to endure the worst torture known to humanity.  It would be the final blow to Rameses.  His former friend had betrayed him, by murdering his father. . .and Hamadi had preempted the prince by taking matters into his own hands.  Standing in the middle of Hamunaptra, Hamadi could see the future with a clarity that took his breath away.

He saw generations upon generations of his people, his compatriots, watching over Hamunaptra, burdened by a duty not of their making.  And in his dying days, he did have a vision of the future.  Of a young man burdened by thousands of years worth of duty, forced to face the Creature which Hamadi Bey had created.  He saw the future and it broke his heart, the last will he had to live. 

Terumun had been right, and every time his reincarnation looked at Ardeth Bey, he saw the fulfillment of Terumun's worst fears.  Not Ardeth himself, annoying honorable man that he was, but his life.  Condemned to spend his entire life, watching over Hamunaptra, among other places, because his ancestor's pride got the better of him.  Not that he, Rick O'Connell, had much room to talk.  Evy had read him the riot act for his actions after she was taken in London, only a few months earlier.

She had been so angry with him for his treatment of Ardeth.  If Rick closed his eyes, he could see her in the middle of their destroyed house, hissing, "That man has always been there for us, Richard!  Always!  He kept you from getting yourself killed in Cairo, when I went with Imhotep.  And he saved us tonight.  He did not deserve that!"  Rick had let her fury roll off his back, because she felt so helpless.  Alex. . .

Alex, who was now safe, largely because of Ardeth Bey.  And Rick knew that Evy had come to love Ardeth as another brother, over the years.  It was funny, when he thought about it, the difference between Evy's two brothers. . .one given to her at birth, by blood, and the other was a chosen brother.  A brother who meant as much to Rick as he did to Evy, though Rick found it hard to acknowledge that.

Until Evy, he hadn't really known how to love.  Evy and Alex.  In the same way, Rameses had never truly known how to love, until he met his Lady Ardath.  And again, Rick's mind circled back to Rameses.  The former Legionnaire sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes.  It had been like this, ever since he remembered his life as Terumun.  Three weeks after Ahm Shere was sucked down, nearly taking Rick's family with it, he had his first dream about Terumun, and what Rick liked to call the Round Table or the Magic Circle.  Nassor, Nefertiri, Rameses, Ardath, Terumun, Imhotep, and Anck-su-namun.

The dreams haunted him. . .for more than one reason.  Rameses seemed hauntingly familiar, but Rick couldn't understand why.  And then there were two other things which gave Rick no end of grief.  He still couldn't figure out what was more jarring. . .the revelation that he and Imhotep had actually been friends in that time or the knowledge that Ardeth Bey was right.  Again.  If he hadn't been such a good friend, Rick would have been tempted to hate Ardeth for being right.

Despite his own skepticism, Rick quickly identified Nassor as his brother-in-law within his dreams.  That shocked him to his core, when he realized Jonathan was Nassor, of all people.  Nassor had been one of the few people whom Rameses would listen to. . .also one of the few people, aside from Ardath, who could make him laugh.  A fine, brave soldier with the ability to defuse most tense situations.  And he was reborn as Jonathan.  The mind boggled.

He already knew about Imhotep and Anck-su-namun.  He knew about Nefertiri.  The only members of that Magic Circle who remained unidentified in their own time were Rameses and Ardath.  Rick knew that Rameses had meant his oath. . .that if the gods took his beloved Ardath from him, he would find her in lifetimes to come.  So. . .they were together.  They had to be together, since Rameses and Ardath found each other before Terumun admitted his own love for Nefertiri.  It was possible that they just hadn't found them.

Yes, that was the best explanation.  He and Evy simply hadn't met that last couple yet.  By all rights, they should have, during the first or second rising of Imhotep, since the high priest was the key.  And wouldn't Anck-su-namun at least tried to find her forever friend in this lifetime?  Rick wasn't sure why it was so important to find the new incarnations of his long-ago friend and his beloved concubine.  But it was.  He was sure of one thing.  After some thought, he realized it was far more jarring that Imhotep was his friend.  At least he was used to Ardeth being right!




.                     .                          .




He raises a good point, child. . .why did Meela never attempt to find Celia?  Mathayus asked.  Anck did not raise her eyes from the pool, which showed her the lives of the mortals.  Nor did she answer him at first.  She tried not to think of Meela at all.  In part, because she wasn't sure if Meela was, indeed, responsible for leaving Imhotep to throw himself into the Underworld.  Was it Meela. . .or Anck herself?

She didn't know. . .and she hated herself for that indecision.  At last, however, she turned her mind away from that critical moment when her legs carried her away from Imhotep, from the man who had endured the hom-dai because he loved her.  And instead, she thought about the question which had been just posed to her.  Why did Meela never attempt to find Celia?  Did Meela not have those memories of Ardath, as she did of Imhotep?

I do not know.  I. . .I was awakened in Meela's body, only days before he faced the Scorpion King.  And things happened so fast, she admitted finally, looking up to meet the eyes of her companion.  Anck realized with a start that he did know.  Mathayus waved his hand over the pool, changing the scene to show Hafez, that oily little man, and Lock-nah, telling Meela after she dreamed of Ardath, that Ardath's reincarnation had been killed at Hamunaptra.  Left to die by O'Connell and the woman who would become his wife.

Anck remembered Meela's hatred of Evelyn O'Connell overpowering Anck's wish to face Nefertiri, one on one, and now she understood why.  Meela had enough memories of Ardath as well as Imhotep to grieve the loss of her forever friend, again.  Anck gasped out, Why?  Why would they lie like that?  Celia is alive and well, she. . .why??

Because, child. . .Hafez and Lock-nah needed Meela to focus on Imhotep.  It is known that the only people you loved were Imhotep. . .and Ardath.  If you believed Ardath's reincarnation to be dead, killed by the same woman who returned Imhotep to his grave, then your rage and hatred would drive you even harder to resurrect Imhotep and to deal with the O'Connell family however they saw fit.  They used your love for Ardath, Anck-su-namun, Mathayus answered.  Anck screamed with rage, raw hatred searing her.

Those. . .those bastards, she ranted, those evil, evil bastards!  She had never been as good as Ardath, she knew that.  And they had used that love for her friend to turn her into someone as evil as they were.  They used love to destroy, and Anck. . . oh, it sickened her!  She had allowed them to do it!  She had allowed them to use her love for Ardath, in order to destroy someone who was trying to protect that which was hers.  A woman. . .

Anck stopped.  A woman not unlike Ardath.  For the first time, Anck looked at Evelyn O'Connell, truly looked at her.  No longer seeing the woman who had accidentally raised Imhotep, then made him mortal.  No longer seeing Nefertiri. . .but Evelyn O'Connell.  The wife and mother.  The woman who had made a mistake and in doing so, unleashed a new apocalypse on the world. . .then sought to rectify her mistake.  Just. . .as. . .Ardath. . .would. . .have. . .done.

Anck-su-namun slid slowly to her knees, forgetting that she no longer has a corporeal body.  What had she become?  When did she start losing herself?  It was very easy for her to say she began losing herself when Ardath died, but that would have been an excuse.  Ardath hadn't made her poor choices. . .Anck had done that.   So when did Ardath's forever friend vanish, to be replaced by. . .by what she had become? 

Was it when she watched in grim satisfaction as Rameses tortured Khaldun to death?  Delighting in each scream of pain, because it seemed to take away some of Anck's own anguish. After all, she had served those goblets, at Seti's request. . .had given Ardath the poisoned wine meant for Rameses.  If only she had kept that goblet for herself!  Ardath had not deserved to die, and that precious little baby did not deserve to grow up without her.

Had she lost herself in those moments when she chose to kill Seti?  She could have found another way. . .could have told him that she had smeared the paint herself.  Perhaps she wanted to be caught.  Imhotep had killed him as well, yes. . . but she made the choice to kill the pharaoh, to escape.  'My body is no longer his temple,' she had told the Med-jai, just before taking her own life.  She could have escaped another way, she and Imhotep.

She and Imhotep. . .did they really need to rule the earth?  All Anck had wanted was the chance to love Imhotep, the chance they were constantly being denied during their own lifetime.  Why had she not warned Meela against Hafez and Lock-nah?  That she was being used to find Imhotep, and raise him to fight the Scorpion King?  Because like Anck, Meela was too blinded with rage when she learned of the death of her forever friend. . .again.  And it seemed that the people responsible for Imhotep's downfall were also responsible for her death.  But Meela hadn't bothered to ask why Ardath's reincarnation would have been in Hamunaptra.  Or why the reincarnations of Nassor, Nefertiri and Terumun would want Ardath dead.

Mathayus said softly, That was not your fault.  By the time you were brought back from the Underworld, uniting your soul with Meela's body, it was too late.  You would have thought to ask those questions.  Meela had no way of knowing which questions to ask, and a girl who had been denied everything, for her entire life. . .she had a way out of it.  You made many bad choices, Anck-su-namun, and helped to cause great evil.  But Meela's choices, up to that moment in Karnak, were not your choices.  Just as Nefertiri's choices were not Evelyn's.  And Ardath's were not Celia's.

Ardath would never take over Celia's body. . .it would be a violation in her eyes, Anck-su-namun answered dully, the only time she would do such a thing was if Celia's life was in danger, and even then, Ardath would ask permission.  Anck-su-namun raised her eyes to Mathayus, asking, Why is that?  Ardath swore she would never violate someone, as we were violated, and I had no such compunctions about allowing someone else to be hurt like that.

You did not meet Ardath until you were ten years old, Anck.  Those first ten years of your life were very different from hers, Mathayus pointed out.  Anck could hardly argue with that.  Mathayus paused, then continued, And as her namesake believes, Ardath did, indeed, come from what is now Europe. . .a child born along the constantly shifting borders of those countries.  Her namesake. . .the Med-jai now protecting Ardath's reincarnation.

You have wondered often, how a Med-jai came to have a variation of her name.  But did you never consider that the elders respected her?  That a woman who died, however accidentally, saving the life of her beloved would be respected for that alone, particularly a woman who made the lives of the Med-jai as easy as possible by respecting their attempts to do their job?  Lady Ardath never attempted to flee from her own protectors. . .always made sure they could see her and protect her, Mathayus told Anck.

That really never occurred to her. . .she had always assumed the Med-jai treasured her because so many of them were friends with Rameses, and she made Rameses happy.  Or because she had saved one of their children.  It never occurred to her that they respected her, because she respected them.  Anck regarded Celia again, totally nonplused by this discovery.  She, Anck-su-namun had always been given to grand gestures and drama.

But that was never Ardath's way of doing things.  Anck said slowly, Then it was not just Imhotep, who did not understand her.  All this time. . .I believed the Med-jai honored her because she risked a beating to save the life of a child.  But it went beyond that, did it not?  I forgot that the loyalty of the Med-jai is not so easily bought.  She had their respect and loyalty, because she treated them with respect and loyalty.

Ahhhh. . .now you are learning, my dear child!  Now you are learning!  The Med-jai protected you, because it was their job.  They protected her, because she allowed them to protect her, and because they wished to see no harm come to her.  Something which Rameses forgot.  That the Med-jai, as a group, also believed they failed a girl they had come to love and respect.  I have wondered, since Ma'at took my soul back from Anubis, if that was part of Hamadi's decision to cast the hom-dai against your Imhotep, Mathayus observed.

Anck frowned, not understanding what that meant.  Mathayus explained, Consider this, Anck-su-namun.  Hamadi Bey was the captain of the Med-jai, at the time of Ardath's murder.  In effect, he failed to protect her.  He failed again, this time to protect Seti from his own stupidity.  That is two failures.  So, when your body was taken from its crypt by Imhotep and Hamadi realized what he planned to do. . .

I remember Hamadi Bey.  He was a proud man.  He could not tolerate a third failure, so he stopped Imhotep from raising me, and assuaged his guilt over his failures by invoking the hom-dai, Anck completed.  Mathayus nodded.  The late concubine shook her head in wonderment.  Why did everything seem to keep returning to Ardath's murder?  Why was it seeming, more and more, like everything was connected to that?

Because, child, it is.  No. . .do not ask me.  I cannot tell you, for it is forbidden.  Rather, you must see this for yourself.  Only then will you understand, Mathayus said, before Anck could even think about asking him to tell her why all was interconnected.  Why everything seemed to come back to the murder of a simple concubine, who had only wished for the love of her prince, and why the pieces were falling into place right now, instead of the first time Imhotep arose.  There was a reason for it, but why?




.                     .                         .




Jason found his new partners at the bazaar without much difficulty.  He said without preamble as he sat down, "You said you know about Hamunaptra and that I could help you get safe passage through the desert.  What did you mean by that?"  He knew he was being blunt, but he was careful to keep his voice low.  The leader of the three men, the one who had approached him the day before, raised his eyebrows.

But he said only, "I spoke the truth.  I know about Hamunaptra.  I have been there.  And you can assure us safe passage through the desert.  Have you ever heard of the Med-jai, young American?"  Med-jai.  The two brothers who had escorted them to the O'Connell home the previous day, the brothers who had treated him with such contempt.  The man smiled coolly and continued, "I thought as much.  The man who escorted you and carried your niece on his shoulders is none other than Ardeth Bey, the chieftain of the Med-jai.  To use a term in my country, he is their king."

Well, yes, that was what he had been told the previous day, and Celia made that dumb remark about how there was something regal about the tall warrior.  Regal, his ass!  Trust his sister to have her wits addled by someone like Ardeth Bey!  She was dumb enough to trust Carstairs, after all.  The leader continued, "You can assure us safe passage, with his safety."

Jason looked at the man in confusion, and the leader said impatiently, "Are you stupid, boy?  We will kidnap Ardeth Bey, and we need your sister to do it.  She is under his protection, so he will put his own life on the line to do just that."  WHOA!  Jason might have just finished insulting his sister's intelligence, never mind that Carstairs had fooled him as well, but there was no way he was about to let this guy anywhere near Celia!

"Let me make one thing clear here," Jason said in a low, deadly voice, "my sister has nothing to do with this.  Understand?  I will not use her, nor will I allow her to be used, in this situation, or any other.  Got it?  You leave Celia alone.  You wanna take out Bey?  Go right ahead, I don't have a problem with that.  But you will not harm my sister, she's off limits.  Celia's had enough to deal with!"

"Then we will use your niece instead, Mr. Ferguson.  You fail to recognize something very important.  I work for a very powerful man, a man who can either make you very rich, or very dead!  It is your choice.  Think very carefully, Mr. Ferguson.  Your sister is thirty years old and rather resourceful, according to our contacts in Chicago.  Quite adept at taking care of herself, which is more than I can say for you.  Her daughter, on the other hand, is but four years of age.  Who will survive longer in the hands of my associates, hmm?" the man sneered.

He had nailed Jason right where it hurt, where the real Jason Ferguson lived.  In his heart of hearts, which knew that he was weak.  That he depended on his sister far more than she depended on him, more than she ever would.  The young man slumped back in his seat, staring at the man.  He whispered, "What do you want from me?  What are you willing to give me, in exchange for my betrayal of my sister?  What's my thirty pieces of silver?" 

"As I said, my employer is a very powerful man, with the capability to make your wildest dreams come true.  If it will make you feel better, then by all means, come along.  Make sure my rough associates do not mistreat your sister.  As you say, she has been through enough.  That cad, Leslie Carstairs, tricked her into thinking that they were married, all in the name of a bet.  And did you not encourage her to accept his advances?" the man asked.

Jason felt a chill spreading through his body.  How was this possible?  No one, except he and Celia, knew that!  Jason had thought Carstairs would be a good match for his sister.  After all, when they met, she was twenty-four, without any prospects to speak of.  And Celia was lonely, seeing everyone she knew getting married and having children.  It wasn't until then that she acknowledged she was lonely, at least.

The man continued, his voice dropping, "You ask me what your thirty pieces of silver will be, for betraying your sister?  You've already betrayed her, boy.  You betrayed her time after time, after time.  What's one more time?  Especially when you have the power to make sure she is not hurt worse. . .worse than she could be.  Think about it, Mr. Ferguson.  Your sister has light skin and odd-colored eyes.  You can protect her from the bandits."

Play the hero, an insidious voice whispered in his mind, you can be her hero.  Ride in and save the day.  She'll look at you with the same admiration she now holds for that barbarian.

And yes, that was how he saw Ardeth Bey.  Never mind his perfect English, and equally perfect Greek.  Never mind his demeanor toward Jason's sister and niece.  Ardeth Bey was a barbarian, he had to be a barbarian to live in this country and in the desert, instead of the civilization of the city.  Just as his grandmother, who had loved Celia so deeply, had been a barbarian to live with the Indians as she had.

Yesss. . .that's right.  Celia is being led astray, Jason.  She's taken care of you all her life. . .this is your chance to take care of her, to steer her back to the right path.  This is your chance, Jason, your chance to be something, the voice whispered.  Jason closed his eyes, trying to ignore how much that voice sounded like his father.   Somehow, the voice inside his head had changed from his own, to his father's.

How many times had he heard that, when Celia was at school, before he himself started going to school, during one of his father's drunken rages?  You can be something, boy, if you're willing to take the risk.  By God, why did Cecelia have to be born a girl, when she's the one willing to take the risk?  Isn't it bad enough that my mother-in-law had more guts than most men, why does my daughter have to be the adventurous one in the family?

He had never been good enough for his father. . .for his mother.  Neither of them had been.  Celia had protected him for so long.  And this damn barbarian was seducing her, finishing what Carstairs had begun six years earlier.  If Ardeth Bey was out of the picture, then his sister would be safe.  He had failed to protect her from Carstairs. . .but he could still protect her from Ardeth Bey, before that bastard had a chance to corrupt her.

If kidnapping her, or rather, helping these men to pretend to kidnap her, was the way to save her, to get Bey out of the picture, then it was a small price to pay.  He opened his eyes, to find the man still staring at him intently.  It never registered with Jason that the man's two associates had never said a word throughout the entire conversation.  It never occurred to him that they just stared at him with blank eyes. . .as if there was no intelligence behind those eyes.

He looked at his new associate and said, "All right.  I will lead Celia to you.  But she is not to be hurt in any way.  I'm trying to protect her, not cause her more pain.  You tell me when and where, and I'll find a way to separate Celia from Miranda.  My niece is not to be involved in this at all.  As you say, she's four years old. . .and do you really want to be taking care of a four year old during a journey?"

"Not in the least. . .and we agree to your conditions.  In six days, suggest a return to the bazaar.  On the seventh day, you will return here.  Make sure that your niece remains with the O'Connell family, while you lead your sister away with the excuse that you want to show her something, a gift for your niece.  The only harm your sister will suffer is the chloroform, but we will make sure it is only enough to render her unconscious," the man said.  Jason listened intently.

The man paused, then continued, "We will have men watching Bey.  If he happens to notice something awry, our men have orders to intercept him and knock him unconscious.  If that happens, we can abduct him at the same time, and there will be no further need for your sister." 

In that case, maybe Jason should make sure Bey did keep an eye on Celia.  If they could abduct him at the same time, and there was no need for Celia. . .he could keep his sister safe that way. And he would be rid of that damn meddling barbarian at the same time.  Jason had no idea he was playing right into the hands of his new associate. . .had no idea how adroitly he was being manipulated and exploited. 

The man continued, "There is one other thing you must do.  Under NO circumstances is Jonathan Carnahan to join you on that outing."  Jason frowned. Carnahan?  From what he had heard, he was a buffoon, the least of their worries.  But the man said, "Appearances are deceiving, boy.  Carnahan is dangerous in a way the chieftain is not.  He has caused problems for my employer in the past.  We do not wish history to repeat itself.  Partners?"

Jason reached across the table to shake the other man's hand, answering firmly, "Partners."  He rose to his feet, realizing he had a lot of work to do.  Again, it didn't even register that he still didn't know the name of his new associates.  It didn't seem important.  Nor did he notice, for the second time that day, that he was being followed.  By a tall man in flowing black robes, and with rage contorting his tattooed face.