A/N: Thanks to everybody who reviewed, and a big thank you especially to TriGemini. :-) Anyway, I have a feeling you readers will positively love this chapter. And why? Because it is in this chapter where Nabila finally meets Ardeth!
(waits until fan-girl screams die down)
And without further ado, I present the long-awaited Chapter 7!
Chapter 7: Med-Jai Warriors
A fire crackled merrily in the center of their camp. Jonathan, Evy, and Nabila were seated around it. But despite the cheerful blaze, the atmosphere was quiet and subdued.
"What do you suppose killed him?" asked Evy quietly, staring into the fire.
"Have you ever seen him eat?" Jonathan replied. Evy looked at him strangely, but said no more.
Rick then climbed over the pile of blankets set up around the campfire and sat down next to Evy. "Our American friends had a little misfortune of their own today," he said. "Three of their diggers were…uh…melted."
"What? How?"
"Salt acid," said Rick. "Pressurized salt acid. Some kind of…ancient booby trap."
"Maybe this place really is cursed," murmured Nabila, a shiver going down her spine—a shiver that had absolutely nothing to do with the nippy cold of the desert.
Then, a wind blew though the camp. The flames of the fire flickered for a moment, before returning to their original state. Rick, Jonathan, and Nabila shared nervous looks, but Evy only laughed at them.
"Oh for goodness' sake, you three!" she exclaimed.
"You don't believe in curses, huh?" asked Rick, stoking the fire.
"No, I don't!" said Evy firmly. "I believe that if I can see, I can touch it, then it's real, that's what I believe."
Nabila grabbed the rifle she had borrowed from Rick on the barge (and which she still had yet to return) and cocked it. "I believe in being prepared," she told Evy, her grip tightening around it.
"Let's see what our friend the warden believed in," said Jonathan, grabbing the dead man's leather bag and rifling through the stuff. "Aah!"
He got three responses. Evy's was a shriek, Rick's was a panicked, "What?!", and Nabila's was an, "Oh my God, what is it?" All reactions happened more or less at the same time.
"Broken bottle," answered Jonathan. He pulled out a bottle of wine and grinned. "Seagrams, twelve years old!" He removed the cover of the bottle. "Well, he may have been a stinky fellow, but he had good taste." He raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink.
Evy and Nabila rolled their eyes.
The sound of whinnying horses distracted Rick. He stood and handed his rifle to Evy. "Take this, and stay here!" he said.
"No, wait! Wait for me! Wait!" Evy called out, standing. Nabila quickly followed her.
Jonathan quickly got up as well and followed his two sisters. "Evy! Nabila! Excuse me, but didn't the man just say stay here?! Girls!"
Dozens of the black-robed warriors that had attacked the barge rode into Hamunaptra, carrying rifles, swords, and flaming torches. They made an impressive, fearful sight, their fierce war cries echoing throughout the City of the Dead.
The warriors had already killed a number of the diggers, and one of them had set fire to Henderson's tent. Burns, Daniels, and Henderson were firing back, taking down some of them.
Rick joined the mêlée and was gunning down some of the warriors, taking careful aim before squeezing the trigger. Evy and Nabila ran up to the campsite quickly getting separated in the chaos.
Evy stood there, clutching fearfully at Rick's rifle, when she heard the whinny of a horse behind her. She turned and screamed as she saw one of the warriors heading for her. She did the first thing that came into her mind and shot him, blasting him off the horse.
Nabila was standing on an outcropping of rock, shooting down the black-robed men with her rifle. Strangely enough, there was a little voice in her head, shouting at her. "Don't shoot don't shoot don't shoot don't shoot DON'T SHOOT!" She ignored it and kept going.
Behind a stone wall was Jonathan. He took a swig of the Seagrams and cocked his pistol, then fired several times. He looked rather drunk, and to be honest, his aim was probably better when he was smashed. After all, he had already shot plenty, which was more then what he could do were he sober.
Then Beni ran up to him and grabbed the bottle, taking a long swig from it. The whinny of a horse distracted him, and slowly, he turned his head.
One of the warriors was bearing down on them, astride a majestic and powerful horse. He was holding a sword in his hand, letting loose the eerie war cry of his desert tribe. Beni spat out the alcohol and handed the bottle back to Jonathan before racing away. Jonathan quickly followed.
"NABILAAAA!" Jonathan screamed as he ran through the camp. Nabila, still perched on the outcropping of rock, turned around and saw the man on horseback pursuing Jonathan.
She tensed, waiting until the rider passed by, then jumped and tackled him off the horse. They crashed into a tent, but both quickly pushed themselves off the ground. Nabila scooped up her rifle from the sand and aimed.
She drew in a sharp intake of breath as the cloth covering the man's face fell away. No, it didn't have anything to do with the fact that he was probably the most handsome man Nabila had ever seen in her life, but more to do with the fact that the tattoos on this man's cheeks were similar to hers.
The thought rushed through her mind for about a second before she cocked her rifle and fired at the man. He blocked the bullet with his sword, creating a loud clanging noise. With a quick swipe of the sword, he had disarmed her and kicked the rifle away.
Something strange then began to happen. Nabila felt old reflexes kicking in, old instincts suddenly remembered. The man rushed forward at her, brandishing his sword. She grabbed onto his shoulders and used the momentum to flip herself over him, landing on the sand with a loud thump. She yanked a sword from the body of a digger lying nearby and whirled around to face the man.
A little girl grabbed the shoulders of a boy and used the momentum to flip herself over him, landing on the ground with a soft thump. She scooped up the sword lying on the ground and whirled around to face the boy, her arms and legs tensed.
The man showed surprise on his face for a moment, but then it was gone. Their swords met in a furious whirl of steel meeting steel, and flesh meeting flesh. Fire blazed in their eyes as they fought, neither willing to give in.
"Are you ready to give up?" A triumphant smile.
"Never!" A pair of determined eyes.
Swords met once more, flashing brilliantly in the firelight. The two opponents were caught in a tight moment, swords locked together, their bodies only a hairsbreadth away. "Who are you?" the man demanded.
Nabila glared. "That's not any of your business now, is it?" She whirled away and the fight resumed, the clanging of the blades barely heard over the noise in the camp.
The man pulled back his arm and attempted a blow to the neck. Nabila ducked it, but stumbled and fell on her back. She pushed up her sword to block the man's blade just as it descended towards her neck.
Just then, Rick came out of nowhere, hurtling towards the man. He rolled on the sand and when he came back up, he was holding a stick of dynamite, the end sparking with fire. Nabila quickly got to her feet, backpedaling towards where Rick was.
The man had been about to cut down Rick, but then he spotted the dynamite and stopped in his tracks. "Enough!" he shouted, then repeated the command in Arabic. "We will shed no more blood. But you must leave. Leave this place or die."
"Why?" Nabila called out in Arabic, glaring defiantly at the man.
Everyone, including the black-robed warriors, stared at her, but she ignored them. "Answer my question. Why must we leave? Why will we die if we stay?"
The man faced her, a strange look in his eyes. "Search your memories, Nabila Rasheed. You will know why." Then, in English he told them all, "You have one day!" He mounted his horse, shouted a few commands in Arabic, then the warriors rode off.
Rick looked at Nabila, who was still staring, shocked, at them. "Is there something you're not telling us?" he asked, removing the wick of the dynamite and throwing it away.
He was, Nabila noticed, looking at her tattoos. He had no doubt seen that it was done in the same style as the markings of the warriors who had raided the camp.
Nabila shook her head, lost in her thoughts. He knows my real name! How could he know my real name? Then she turned around and spotted a pale figure in a black dress sprawled out over the sand. "Evy!" she cried.
The woman lay on the sand, unconscious. Nabila and Rick ran over, the former helping her up while the latter held her against his chest to keep her from falling over.
"See, that proves it!" Daniels cried excitedly. "Old Seti's fortune has gotta be under this sand!"
"For them to protect it like this, you just know there's gotta be treasure down there," agreed Henderson.
"Those men were desert people," said Nabila quietly. "We value water, not gold." Rick raised his eyebrows at the word 'we', and Nabila shook her head.
Burns walked over, his face still half-covered in shaving cream. "You know, uh," he said, "maybe just for tonight, we could uh, combine forces, hmm?" In other words: can we please put aside our differences for a while and concentrate on getting the hell out of Hamunaptra alive?
A quiet morning. There was wind. It blew through a courtyard, and the only occupants were two children—a boy and girl.
Steadiness for a moment, then suddenly, they were clashing. Wooden swords smashing against each other and bodies moving with feline grace. The fight was over soon, and the boy had the tip of his wooden sword pointed at the girl's throat.
"Are you ready to give up?" A triumphant smile.
"Never!" A pair of determined eyes.
Then the courtyard began changing. The scenes spun around with dizzying speed, until suddenly, the little girl was now older, but only by a few years or so. The boy was there too. They were standing at the edge of a huge oasis, and they were hugging. Two groups of people stood at opposite ends, one near the oasis, and one near the desert.
Whispered promises, shared secrets, a vow to come back. Then, the girl broke the hug and walked away, heading for the group of people near the desert.
"I will miss you, Ardeth."
"Don't forget me."
"I won't."
The scene changed once more. There was a desert, and a camp, but there was something horribly wrong…
Tents were on fire, and blood stained the sand. A group of bandits had raided the camp, and were now carrying off their prizes. Clothes, food, weapons, and women. The men lay dead—it was their blood that seeped into the ancient ground.
"Mama! Papa!" The little girl ran through the camp, the only survivor. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflecting the light of the fire. "Where are you?!"
Then screaming…so much screaming…there was a body there on the ground that looked terribly familiar. The body was gutted, a long slash down the abdomen, blood trickling from cold flesh and onto the sand. "Papa! Papa! Where's Mama? Get up, Papa! Please don't leave me alone!" Sobs. There was no answer
She ran. She ran like she had never run before. The sand stuck to the sweat on her body, and her muscles burned with the pain as she pushed herself. But sheer terror gave the girl adrenaline to run, run, run. "Mama! Papa!"
The sandstorm. It was four days, the girl was near death. The sandstorm would kill her, and then she would be with her mama and papa again. But the kind English couple, who had fed her, given her water, nursed her back to health, who saved her…they wouldn't let her die.
"Where is your tribe, little one? Are you a Bedouin?" Kindness.
"I don't know!" Crying.
The strange country. England. The strange children. Jonathan and Evy. They were so unlike…unlike…? Unlike who? There was nothing anymore. Only the tattoos on her cheeks and forehead remained. But what were they? Where did they come from? A word echoed in her mind: Med-jai. What was that?
Was there life before England? Were there parents before Andrew and Malika Carnahan? Were there playmates before Jonathan and Evy?
"Don't forget me."
"I won't."
Nabila's eyes fluttered open, and she lay rigid in her sleeping bag as she stared up at the dark sky of Hamunaptra. Something wet dripped onto her shoulder, and Nabila realized she was crying.
She remembered everything now—it had all been brought back by the reappearance of the Med-jai in her life.
Majid and Khalida Rasheed were on their way to Cairo, accompanied by eight guards, their purpose being that Majid would take over the post as curator of the Cairo Museum of Antiquities. The reason for this was so that the Med-jai would have someone to contact in civilization—in other words, someone to send word if people looking for Hamunaptra arrived in Cairo.
But two days after leaving the Hidden Oasis, they were attacked by nomadic bandits. The food, water, weapons, and women were taken, and the men were slain. Nabila was the sole survivor. Dr. Terrence Bey, an old man who was the uncle of the Med-jai leader's heir, took up the post instead.
Days later, after wandering the Sahara Desert, Andrew and Malika Carnahan, a married couple on an expedition in the Egyptian pyramids, had come across the little girl, and had kindly taken her in. And as her body healed, so had her mind. It couldn't cope with the trauma of the incident, so it wiped everything associated with that it from her mind. And that, apparently, included the Med-jai.
And Ardeth.
The name had been spoken in her dream. Who was he? Was he that man who she had fought with?
Instinct told her that yes, he was.
"Search your memories, Nabila Rasheed. You will know why."
What did he mean by that?
But before Nabila could contemplate Ardeth's cryptic answer, she heard a deep chuckle, then Rick's voice saying, "Try a right hook. Ball up your fist and put it up."
She turned over in her sleeping bag and smiled slightly when she saw Rick trying—key word being trying—to teach Evy to fight with her fists. Evy aimed a punch at Rick's open palm, but she ended up tripping and falling into his arms.
Rick slowly lowered them both to the ground, smiling at Evy's giggles. "Okay, time for another drink," he said.
"Unlike my brother, sir," Evy hiccupped, "I know when to say no." Despite that, she took the bottle and drank deeply from it.
"And unlike your brother, miss," said Rick, smothering a grin at Evy's lack of ability to hold her liquor, "you, I just don't get."
"Ah!" Evy waved her hand in a flamboyant fashion. "I know. You're wondering what is a place like me doing in a girl like this," she said, mixing her words up. Her arms waved around limply, and Nabila struggled to keep from laughing.
"Yeah, something like that."
Evy hiccupped again, then said, "Egypt is in my blood. Y-you see my father"—she pulled out a locket from underneath her dress and unclasped it, showing the pictures inside to Rick—"was a very, very famous explorer. And he loved Egypt so much that he married my mother, who was an Egyptian, and quite an adventurer herself. Then they"—another hiccup—"adopted Nabila, who's Egyptian as well."
"I get your father, and I get your mother," said Rick, pointing to each picture in turn. "And I get those two." He pointed at Jonathan and Nabila. "But…what are you doing here?"
Evy looked insulted and staggered drunkenly to her feet. "Ooh, look, I…I may not be an explorer, or a treasure seeker, or a gun fighter, Mr. O'Connell, but I am proud of what I am!" As she said this, she waved her hands around, and Rick had to duck a few times so Evy wouldn't hit him.
"And…what is that?" Rick looked amused.
"I…am a librarian."
Rick stared at her.
She dropped to her knees and looked straight into Rick's eyes. "And I am going to kiss you, Mr. O'Connell."
"Call me Rick."
Evy smiled. "Rick," she murmured. Then she leaned forward, her eyes closing…
…and she slumped forward, passing out in Rick's arms.
Rick opened his eyes and smiled slightly at Evy's prone form. Then, he sensed someone watching him and turned to find that Nabila had seen it all, and she was smiling.
"Mum's the word," she said, running two fingers over her lips like a zipper. Still smiling, Nabila turned over and went back to sleep.