Chapter Nine: Deadlocked

***

Ardeth stood alone, his black robes ruffling slightly in the wind. Imhotep had now been in control of the world for six months, three weeks, and four days. Every moment of Imhotep’s triumph, every day that passed, was a searing reminder of Ardeth’s failure.

He felt so helpless. He had been raised a warrior, taught to survive on his skills and cunning and physical power. But here, self-exiled into the desert for fear of the Priest, the lessons Ardeth had been taught gave him no help. He sat down heavily on the side of a flat boulder, resting his weary back.

There was so much weight on his shoulders, so much responsibility.

This was an entirely new situation, one his people had never faced before. Through three millennia of guarding the Creature, until Ardeth’s generation, no Med Jai had actually had to face Imhotep. And until seven months ago, no Med Jai had ever had to face an Imhotep with vast power and control. None of the Ancient knowledge could help them–they were floundering and alone in completely new territory.

Ardeth sighed, running his fingers through his dark, silky hair. So much had changed since he was a boy. Growing up, Imhotep had been nothing more than a fearsome legend. Since he had been made Leader, Ardeth had faced him three times. Twice, with the help of the O’Connell’s, he had won. Imhotep had been sent back to the underworld. And the second time, he and his people had defeated the Army of Anubis. They had faced many trials, but had emerged victorious.

Until now. Everything had changed.

Ardeth thought wistfully of the days and months after the destruction of Ahm Shere. His people had rejoiced thinking that Imhotep would never rise again. There had been days of celebrations–communal feasting and dancing. The council of elders had commended Ardeth personally, each member hugging him and giving him a garland–an age-old tradition of honor and thanks.

He had even begun to think about starting a family. He had been thirty-six and a newly honored Leader, established and respected throughout all the twelve tribes. He had thought that he would settle down soon, marry, have children. He had grown tired of sleeping alone.

Ardeth did not seek a great, all-consuming love affair. That was not the ways of his people. He would seek out a woman with whom he could speak honestly, who he could confide in, who would care for him and bear him strong children. He wanted a woman who was not afraid of him or his power, who could trust him, who would share with him her thoughts and mind. A woman who would be a good mother to his children, who could lead the tribe by his side.

Such was the kind of woman Ardeth sought. The elders had begun encouraging him to seek a wife, and Ardeth had just started speaking to and getting to know the women in his village. He had just begun seriously contemplating changing his lifestyle forever, sharing his life with another person. And he thought he might have found that person in Sakina.

But now she was gone from him forever.

Her face appeared, unbidden, in Ardeth’s mind, but he pushed it away. She had been killed in Imhotep’s raid on the camp, there was nothing he could have done. He laughed to himself, mourning her so profoundly, a woman who had not been his wife, or his lover, or even his promised.

Sakina was a young widow, childless and alone at twenty-seven. She was mature and experienced, something that drew Ardeth to her. She did not giggle or fawn over him. She had a serious face, but a rare, slow smile that would spread across her features and blossom, surprising him with its sudden beauty. She was strong and self-confident and fiercely loyal to her people.

It was strange, what drew her to him, for she was not an ideal choice for a wife. The elders never said so, but they did not want him to marry a woman so old, a woman who had already been with another man, a woman who had borne no children and therefore might be barren.

Why was Ardeth so distraught at her death, so much more distraught than he was when learning of the deaths of others? The most he had done with Sakina was converse with her several times in private, and that one last time, kiss her hand. Yet her face loomed in Ardeth’s consciousness.

Had he loved her? He did not know, but he knew she would make him a good wife. He had never had a chance to tell her, to let her know that he wanted to marry her. Ardeth had not realized at the time how much she meant to him. But then Imhotep had come. She was dead.

Ardeth felt an absurd longing, an emptiness, for a woman who he had never even kissed.

He looked up as a shadow fell across his gaze.

“Ardeth,” Adil said softly. “The elders have assembled. They ask for your presence.”

The older man sighed heavily as he got up, glancing once more out into the desert before turning to face the younger man completely.

“Thank you Adil,” Ardeth said. He pushed all thoughts of the past away. There was no use thinking about her. He had to concentrate on the present.

He looked carefully at Adil, the young man before him. Ardeth was beginning to develop a real fondness for this young man, eager and intelligent and absolutely loyal. His young followers were all that Ardeth had left. In a rush of emotion, Ardeth clapped him on the back, giving him a rare smile. “I have truly come to depend on you,” he said.

Adil flushed and smiled at the praise. “I will do anything to overcome the exile and shame that has come on our people.” He paused, looking up into Ardeth’s world-weary eyes. “I would follow you anywhere.”

The selfless words of sacrifice warmed Ardeth’s heart. Perhaps he was still a leader. Perhaps the Med Jai did have a chance against Imhotep.

But the moment passed and the men stepped apart, each slightly embarrassed at the show of emotion, but nonetheless glad it had happened.

“What did the elders say?” Ardeth asked to break the silence.

“Just that it is time for a Council. They wish to discuss things again and give you advice.”

Ardeth laughed humorlessly. “Give me advice. Advice on what, I wonder? We have had no new information since the last council, and yet they wish to talk and talk and talk.” Ardeth rubbed his eyes, betraying how little he had slept. “We need to act, but the Council wishes to wallow forever in indecision.”

It was the first time he had admitted his frustration to anyone.

It felt so good to confide in someone, that Ardeth did not stop himself. “I am afraid that the longer we wait, the more damage the people of the world suffer. We have bided our time, but at some point we must act, we must strike as the cobra kills its prey–soundlessly and suddenly. All of this talk–” he broke off, realizing he had said too much. He did not wish to burden Adil with all of his confused thoughts.

“I respect the elders, and I do not want to defy their wishes. But at some point–” Ardeth hesitated again. “We have already exchanged many angry words,” he admitted to Adil.

The young man laughed, a welcome sound. “The Council is known for its stubborn and obstinate old men,” Adil said with a grin.

Ardeth laughed too, a rich, deep sound that resonated between them. It was a sound that, even to his own ears, reminded him painfully of the past and of easier times.

But Adil quickly became more serious. “Of course no one wants to defy them. But if you commanded us, sir, we would all march out tomorrow. The elders are not warriors. They may be wise, but they do not fight on the battlefields. It is you we would follow.”

Ardeth could not respond, for a lump had filled his throat, a lump of gladness and pent up emotion. His people would die for their cause, and they would follow him to their destinies. His eyes glistened at their unquestioning and brave loyalty.

“It means much to me to hear you say those words, Adil,” Ardeth said huskily.

Adil smiled, the genuine smile of a boy as he looks upon his hero. “My father spoke often of you. You became Leader when I was only nine, but always my father believed in you. When he would have to leave us, and my mother would cry, he would say, ‘do not fear, my wife, for I follow a man of character and integrity, who follows the noble ways of our ancestors.’”

Ardeth swallowed hard, and put an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “Your father was a strong and good warrior. I was always glad to have him fight by my side.”

The two men embraced, and for Ardeth it was as if a dam had broken. “Thank you for your loyalty, my brother,” he said.

At that moment Hamir, one of the scouts, appeared, winded slightly from running up the mountain path. “Sir–oh, excuse me,” he said awkwardly.

Ardeth and Adil parted, smiling, and Ardeth laughed at Hamir’s discomfort. “Yes?” he asked, smiling.

“The elders sent me to find out where you went,” Hamir admitted, grinning sheepishly.

“And I am coming right now,” he replied, beginning to make his way down the path. They walked in silence for several moments, until they reached one of the large tents. Adil and Hamir bowed their heads slightly to leave, but Ardeth turned.

“Adil, stay. I wish your presence in this meeting.” Surprise and awe filled the young man’s face, but he quickly mastered it and came to stand beside Ardeth outside the entrance to the tent.

“As you wish, sir. Any way I can offer my assistance.”

“You are young and brave, and will soon be a leader among us. You should know the ways of the Council.” And with those words, Ardeth stepped inside.

***

“Our options, Rashid, are extraordinarily limited,” Ardeth said, pacing across the room as he spoke.

The meeting was in full force in the small, dark tent. At a table sat seven elderly and revered members of the tribe, who watched Ardeth move with strong, athletic movements. Adil stood silently in a corner, watching, his eyes wide, drinking in everything he saw.

Ardeth continued, gesticulating forcefully as he spoke. “We cannot hope to defeat Imhotep in a battle. That is madness. What we do have the ability to accomplish is a quick strike at his very heart.” Med Jai warriors were known for their stealth as well as skill and knowledge, and it was their expertise with clandestine behavior that was, in this case, Ardeth believed, absolutely essential to victory.

“Ardeth, we must not take unnecessary risks,” a council-member broke in. “This strike that you speak of would be almost impossible to accomplish without heavy casualties on our side.” Sharma was the one who spoke, an old woman in her late sixties. She was still sharp as a pin, extremely intelligent and wise. She was calm and measured in all of her responses, and her careful reasoning and rationality was slowly driving Ardeth crazy.

He wrung his hands in frustration. “Have we not already suffered heavy casualties?” he asked the elders, searching their faces for a response to his statement of devastating fact. “We have sworn oaths to kill the creature. If all we do is sit here, talking and talking about what to do while the world is destroyed, then I would not hesitate to call us oath-breakers, guilty of the worst kind of treason.”

There was gasping and grumbling among the elders at his brash statement, but Ardeth continued unfazed, speaking determinedly. “We must not be afraid of death.”

Sharma shook her head. “That does not mean that we search for it, young Leader. If a Med Jai gives his life it is for the cause of our ancestors. No Med Jai should give his life for a hopeless mission,” she continued, speaking in a voice strong for an old woman.

“But this would not be a hopeless mission,” Ardeth replied, running his fingers through his hair. “We have many reasons to think it will be successful.” He turned and began pacing again, thinking aloud as he walked.

“What have we learned from the past in dealing with the Creature? We must use what we know of his past. He is strong, he has immense powers, he can not be killed by mortal weapons. He does not need food or sleep. But what are his weaknesses? What about him can we exploit?” Ardeth paused, his gaze searching the faces of the elders for answers.

When his question drew no response, Ardeth pressed his point. “The first time Imhotep was resurrected, we reached Hamanuptra in time to stop the ritual, save Evelyn O’Connell, and kill the Creature. What allowed us that time?”

“His desire to resurrect The Woman,” Rashid, a venerated elder, said reluctantly.

“Yes,” Ardeth exclaimed triumphantly. “Anck-su-namun. She is his weakness.”

“So how are you suggesting we exploit that, Ardeth Bay?” Omar, another elder, asked, his clever eyes missing nothing as he examined his Leader’s tired and determined face.

“We are lucky. While Imhotep is immortal, with insurmountable powers, his Queen is not. She is mortal, flesh and blood like any one of us.” Ardeth stopped in front of the table, facing the elders as he spoke. “She is vulnerable.”

“What are you suggesting?” Sharma asked, beginning to lose her patience.

“If Anck-su-namun dies, Imhotep will have nothing.” Ardeth began pacing again in frustration. “Do you not see? The Creature rules the world so that the concubine can be Queen by his side. Less than two years ago he risked facing the Scorpion King without his powers, sure death, because she was ambitious for power.”

“And how do you propose we kill her? We just saunter up to the palace, climb over the wall, and dance into her bedroom?” Rashid snapped, his patience gone. “Nothing you suggest is easily done, Bay.”

Ardeth rubbed his beard as he spoke, deep in thought. “We sneak into the palace one of the nights Imhotep is traveling around the world. Without him there, his Queen is highly unprotected. Imhotep does not think we exist. He fears for nothing. The security at his palace is weak. Our scouts now know where she lives and sleeps and where she can be found.” Ardeth wrung his hands, the words tripping out of his mouth in his eagerness to have his ideas known. “We have many highly skilled and trained assassins. At her death, Imhotep will lose all desire to live. He will give up, have no craving for world domination. Without his love to share it with, power will become meaningless to him. He will give up, like he did when Meela ran from Ahm Shere to save herself. We will have struck him where he is most vulnerable.”

“Or,” Rashid suggested, standing up from his seat in anger, “Imhotep will become furious and vengeful at the death of his beloved, and for revenge will not only kill us, but all of mankind, destroying the whole world.”

“I do not think–” Ardeth began, but Rashid’s anger interrupted him.

“Imhotep is unpredictable. How do we know he will simply lie down and give up when Anck-su-namun dies? He could do any number of destructive things. I would not underestimate him, Warrior.” And there was derision in his tone.

“Underestimate him? At least I have some experience in which to base my ideas!” Ardeth flared, glaring at the elder. “I have faced him before, Rashid. I have held a dying man, his tongue and eyes ripped out by Imhotep’s hands. I have stood on a dirigible as the Creature’s wall of water attacked us, his watery face grinning as he came. I killed Loch-nah, the Betrayer and Imhotep’s minion, in the jungles of Ahm Shere. Do not tell me what Imhotep is like, and warn me about his power!”

“I appreciate your past experience, Bay,” Rashid said fiercely, “but the Imhotep in power now is different from the Creature you knew. He has full control of his powers, and you are without the American Med Jai and his family. Times have changed, situations are different.”

“So what do you propose, Rashid? We sit and talk and do nothing forever?” Ardeth’s voice rose in anger. The conversation was quickly getting out of control. Ardeth sensed this, but was too worked up to stop himself.

“We wait, we bide our time, we gather more information–”

“No,” Ardeth proclaimed heatedly. “The time for that is over.”

“Ardeth Bay, you cannot wish to march our sons and grandsons into battle, exposing them to the worst kind of danger, without being sure of the payoff. And even if you succeed in assassinating the Queen, you could simply set off a ticking bomb.” Omar’s voice was calm and soothing, but Ardeth was too angry to be soothed. “We are not yet strong enough to launch an offensive. You must be prudent. We must act with wisdom. There are other roads we can take.”

Ardeth shook his head in fury, speechless in his helplessness and his desire for retribution.

In the furious silence, it was Omar, looking carefully at Ardeth’s ravaged face, who spoke. The question was asked delicately, softly, and with a slight hint of reproach. But there was also tenderness and a fondness for the young man in his words.

“Why are you so dedicated to the plan, my son?” And under Omar’s concerned gaze, Ardeth was jolted from his anger, and it began to melt away. Perhaps he was being a bit brash and assuming in his tone. After all, the elders, although not warriors, were still Med Jai and dedicated to the same cause he was. He should be more patient with them. They were on his side.

He took a deep breath and allowed his taut muscles to relax. For a few moments he allowed himself to truly examine his own emotions.

He honestly believed that they had few options and that his plan was one of the best that they could attempt at this point. Knowing what Imhotep had done when his love had left him at Ahm Shere–give up and throw himself into the underworld–made the plan’s success a definite possibility.

And Ardeth was a warrior, a leader of men, a commander in battle. He would never risk the lives of his people if he did not believe that they had advantages in strategy, tactics, and battle position.

But, he admitted to himself, there was another, secret reason.

Sakina.

Deep down, Ardeth wanted Imhotep to suffer as he himself was suffering. Unknowingly the Creature had murdered his love. The Med Jai leader admitted to himself that he wanted to return the favor.

Ardeth hated Imhotep for the ancient reasons–the betrayal, the murder of the Pharaoh, the disrespect of the old Gods. But he hated Imhotep for new, intensely personal reasons. And Ardeth’s desire for vengeance, for age-old deeds and new ones, was now manifesting itself as a desire to hurt the Priest in the same way that he himself was hurting. He wanted revenge.

But Ardeth was no longer young and naive. He was almost thirty-eight, he was leader of the twelve Med Jai tribes decimated by Imhotep’s assault. The fate of the world, he believed, rested on his shoulders. He cleared his mind. He would not let desire for personal revenge result in impaired judgement and the unnecessary deaths of Med Jai. In that moment, Ardeth asked his soul–his experience, his intelligence, his ancestral knowledge–if he truly believed that the plan was good.

And his soul answered yes.

“Because it is the best one available, Omar. What other options do we have?” Ardeth asked, looking into the older man’s face with a quiet, assured certainty.

But in his voice there was also a intimate anger, anger for his own weakness. He could never allow his memory of a woman–a woman who probably never even loved him–to cloud his vision. He pushed her face from his mind. “You tell me. What are your suggestions? How do you think we should beat Imhotep?”

Ardeth turned away and began pacing again. “Your grand plan is to do nothing, to risk nothing. We are Med Jai,” he said expressively, opening his arms and making a sweeping gesture around the room. He hesitated. “We are Med Jai,” he repeated, pride in their identity, in their ancestors, in who they were, flooding his limbs. He looked around at the elders, trying to imbue in them the same pride he felt. When he continued, his voice was softer, more under control, but no less firm. “We all agree that Imhotep must have the books and the key. That means that we are powerless. We have none of the Ancient tools for defeating him. Therefore we must take our chances. Anck-su-namun must die. There is no other way.”

A heavy silence filled the room that lasted for several long moments.

“What if,” Adil suggested hesitantly from the corner, shattering the quiet, “the Creature does not have the books? How can we be sure that he does?”

For a moment no one spoke, all their minds heavy with what the future could bring. Rashid looked up in surprise at Adil’s words, surprised that he would dare speak in a council meeting.

“We must assume the worst,” Ardeth replied dismissively. “Besides, who else could have them?”

“But if he doesn’t, shouldn’t we be looking for them?” Adil pressed.

“And how do you suggest that we look for them?” Rashid spoke up bitterly. “Most of our people are dead or scattered. We are isolated in the desert. We have no one we can trust outside the tribe. We have never had need for outside contacts.” The older man sighed heavily in resignation. “There is no way we could discover where the books were, even supposing that Imhotep did not have them.”

The other elders nodded at Rashid’s words, and there was a low murmuring of agreement. “Even if we suspected that Imhotep did not have the books, it would be extremely unwise and difficult for us to even try to locate them,” Sharma continued softly, sympathizing with Adil’s youthful idealism. “Only some of the elders and Ardeth can speak English or any other language besides Arabic. We have no disguises, no western clothes. And we certainly have no money. We are a desert people.” She paused. “There is no way that we could look for them without giving ourselves away.”

“But if Imhotep doesn’t have the books–” Adil began, but Rashid interrupted.

“If Imhotep does not have the books then he is surely looking for them and doing everything in his power to find them. Should a few of our warriors traipse off to Cairo?” He laughed humorlessly, gesturing mockingly with his hands. “We have obvious tattoos on our faces that can be recognized from a mile off. The moment one of us shows our face in any major world city, within 12 hours Imhotep will know that there are remaining Med Jai. He will gather his forces and search the desert. He will hunt us down and kill us. And this time he will be thorough.”

Silence filled the room. The Med Jai burden, the burden of millennia, fell heavily on their shoulders.

“You did have western contacts. The O’Connell’s.” Adil looked into Ardeth’s eyes.

Ardeth laughed bitterly. “Yes, we did. Once.”

The warriors stood, wordlessly, in the heavy silence of the room.

“We will convene again tomorrow,” Sharma finally said exhaustedly, wiping her eyes with wrinkled hands. “There is much anger in the room. No decision can be made when we are subject to our own intense emotions. Tomorrow, tomorrow we will discuss this again.” She stood, looking directly at Ardeth. “And, Ardeth Bay, if you wish for us to seriously consider your ideas, I would go over every step and detail of your plan. This sort of undertaking is not to be begun lightly.”

And the council of fearsome Med Jai, warriors trained in the deadly arts, elders cunning and clever with Ancient knowledge, stood in silence, dead-locked in fury and helplessness.

***