Here we go. Sorry it is so late in coming. I also hope that last chapter didn't scare any of you all off. I promise it's gonna get better, just wait and see!

To my wonderful readers:

To my two newest readers, Kathy and Lanfear. Glad to know that you both are enjoying the story! And Kathy, I'm sorry that I'm so late in uploading the newest addition. Life has not been too kind lately and it's a wonder I have any hair left on my head. But thanks so much for emailing me with your inquiry. Email me anytime, in fact! Glad to hear from you!

Deana: Yeah, I know, I'm terrible. I beat up Ardeth's mother! I know, don't say it, I'm mean, mean, mean! As far as Quadamah is concerned, I tried to visualize my own self having a huge crazy maniac running at me with a deadly weapon. It worked, lol, because my heart was racing when wrote that part. Glad you enjoyed it, my friend. And thanks, btw, for always being there for me and beta'ing this story for me!

Mommints: Glad you thought the chap was intense enough, my friend! I tried to make it as strong in that area as possible. What was really strange was that I really got into the whole scene and it was the easiest chapter to write thus far. Kinda made me feel like I'm barbaric or something because it was just too easy, lolol.

P.S. I absolutely love Hero's and I understand completely what you are talking about concerning Rick and Ardeth. Absolutely brothers in every possible way other than blood. If you think about it, blood doesn't necessarily make you family, hearts do. Glad you liked the little poem I sent you! I couldn't help myself because all I could think of when I read that particular part of it was Nabil, Nabil, Nabil (yeah, I'm his own personal cheerleader)!!!

Angela: Yeah the poor guy 'is' a major train wreck and it's gonna take, oops, can't say it yet, dagummit! And I want to tell you so bad, lol. Well, maybe I'll catch ya late one night and fill you in. Glad you are enjoying, bud! Yeah, it would be nice if he were real and we could all smother him with comfort, oooh, I better stop thinking about that, lolol!

Patty: I was thinking on the same line. By all rights, Ardeth should have been granted death but I was just too mean to give in to the urge. Of course, if I killed him off, then Zouhir's plans would not work out. Oh well, we'll see, huh? And thanks so much for the wonderful compliments, my friend! I'm blushing!

Tasha: Just enought fingers left, huh? LOL, well I wonder if you'll have any left at all by the time this is all over. Yes, the poor guy will have a happy ending to compensate for all the torment he's been through. I'm glad to know you are enjoying this despite all the agony I am putting Ardeth and Co. through.

J-James: I agree with you. It would be much worse to watch someone you love being tortured. Sorry girl! This chapter isn't going have Ardeth and the others languishing in a bed of roses yet, lolol! But I promise that very soon it's gonna get better (probably next chapter if I stop being so long-winded, lol) for our fav Medjai and the rest as well.

Anya: Well Anna, if you're sick then you have lots of company, lol! Thanks so much for the compliment and I promise Ardeth's suffering is not over yet, not by a long shot. Glad you are enjoying Endless.

BTW– I'm back in functioning mode (hopefully it's permanent) and will have your chappies for 'Red Like Blood' back to you in the next day or two. My sincere apologies but I've been accosted with multiple RL problems and have had little access to a computer.

Marxbros: Thanks for the compliment! As far as Quadamah is concerned, he's been under the guidance of Uzmir and his fighting skills are top-notch despite his being a victim of the impetuousness of youth. In my mind, I could justify his overcoming the much larger Songhoi because of both the skill and his impetuous nature. Glad you are enjoying the story!

Karri: LOL, I tried to make it as intense as possible. I'm trying to perfect my writing skills in that area so it will have better imagery. Thanks for the compliment, my friend! Glad you like it.

Aulizia: I'm sorry I made you cry but if it makes you feel any better, I cried when I was writing it. Seriously, I did! Thank you so much for the wonderful compliment, my friend! Soon, very soon (hopefully next chap) a ray of hope will be peeking through.

Okie dokie ladies, here goes. If I missed anyone, my sincere apologies. Happy reading!

ENDLESS LOVE

CHAPTER 19

Bahir knew that their proximity to the oasis was very close now and he could not wait much longer to arrive, for the pain he was experiencing was beyond words. He needed to get there. The pain was evident in the expression on his face and he could not hide it from the others.

Jonathan watched the warrior that he'd known for a long time now, and the look on Bahir's face wasn't lost to Jonathan. He waited for a few minutes, giving Bahir time to be lost in his thoughts. Those precious few moments in time given in to one's feelings could prove profitable, or it could prove disastrous if the person wasn't stable. Bahir was more than stable. He was more like a pliable metal, one who possessed a tempered strength through the many fires he had been though, but still pliable enough to not lose his human touch. One who had a great respect for others, whether they are known or unknown to him. Jonathan was proud to call him Friend.

"How much farther is it?" Jonathan asked, hoping he'd given Bahir enough time to delve into his personal feelings.

Bahir stared off directly ahead and pointed to an unknown area, which amazed Jonathan, as always. How could these people, though desert people they were, know how to judge distances of the endless desert sand? Considering there were no streets to guide them and no signs posted with directions to specific destinations to take advantage of. Jonathan had great admiration for those who could determine destinations just by using positions of stars or the sun.

"It is roughly ten more miles. I'm taking out a scouting party shortly and would be honored if you would join us," Bahir said, giving Jonathan a sincere invitation.

Bahir had known that Jonathan was hiding his fears quite bravely for the sake of Alex. All of the warriors were hiding their fear and anticipation of the worst quite well. Each man had to face their own fears and any one of them that denied their inward fear was a liar to his own self. But each man had acted admirably, with the exception of their captives who continued to antagonize. Fremantle continued his diatribe against Jonathan, to which he was rebutted with Jonathan's wit.

Jonathan looked at Bahir, in shock at the invitation. He had been given the opportunity to join a scouting party. Never, since he had known the Medjai, had they asked him to join a scouting party. Jonathan felt rather honored at the prospect. Smiling at Bahir, but knowing that they may very well come into harm's way, he nodded.

"My friend, I accept your gracious offer. I would be honored to accompany you and the rest of the men on the mission," he said, smiling.

Bahir gave Jonathan a sincere smile and nodded back, recognizing his acceptance of the offer.

"One thing, my friend," said Bahir. "It will be even more dangerous than any of the missions that the scouts have been sent on as of yet. We are very close to the oasis; there is no telling how many warriors they have posted as sentries throughout the desert expanse between here and there. We are going to go as close to the oasis as possible and if the warriors are relatively small in number or if any urgent conditions warrant it, we will attack, Bahir told him, gravely. "There is a great chance that some of us, possibly all of us, for that matter may not be able to return, as we do not know exactly what we are facing."

Jonathan swallowed hard with that knowledge. He had thought that the scouts were just going to observe and wait for the others to arrive or return to join them. But thoughts of his sister being there changed his mind and a firm fortitude replaced the doubt and fear. No matter what, he would go to rescue his sister. If it meant dying in the process, at least he would have tried. Ardeth had once told Jonathan that true courage was facing your worst fear and overcoming it. He remembered Ardeth's wise words as if he had spoken them yesterday. So, he would face his fear for his sister and bring her back, or die trying.

Alex had wondered what was up when he saw Jonathan conversing with Bahir. Always the inquisitive one, he had been barraging Quadir with many questions concerning the London Medjai and how they managed to stay rather invisible in everyday life. But the moment he saw the look on Jonathan's face as he talked to Bahir, Alex deterred the conversation and politely excused himself, as Jonathan was now heading back toward his former location in front of his proverbial nemesis.

"Well, well, what have 'we' been up to now?" queried Fremantle. "Finding vital locations of large boulders that 'you' may slither under while the warriors are valiantly butchered by the mighty Songhoi?"

Jonathan ignored the impudent man, choosing not to fall for his badgering. Instead, he continued to stare ahead of himself, watching the slight shift in direction by the front of the entourage.

Alex hurriedly followed behind Jonathan wearing a particular expression that was commonly seen on his young face. He was extremely curious as to what had transpired between Bahir and Jonathan. Jonathan wasn't saying a word, as his thoughts were on what would come to pass. Alex couldn't take it any longer. He leaned forward on his horse and gave Jonathan a curious look. Realizing his nephew was near bursting with the curiosity, he looked over at him, smiling.

"Yes, Alex, what is it?" Jonathan asked.

"What's going on, Uncle Jon?" asked Alex. "I saw your expression and Bahir's too and I know something is happening. Well, what is it?"

"A scouting party is being sent out," Jonathan said. "And Bahir asked me to join them on the mission."

"Ooooh! Uncle Jon, when do we leave? When, when, Uncle Jon?!" Alex asked excitedly.

"You're not going anywhere, young man!" Jonathan said sternly. "You are going to stay within the bounds of safety with the majority of the warriors right here."

Alex threw him a look that showed his ultimate displeasure in being left out of such an important mission. Quadir had told him shortly before that they were in close proximity to the oasis and Alex had already been excited about that revelation. Crossing his arms over his chest, Alex looked at Jonathan through mere slits for eyes as his displeasure grew. "I'm going with you!" Alex retorted.

Jonathan looked at his little nephew and understood his need to help find his mother, father and dear friend. Alex was way beyond his years concerning wisdom. In fact, he had been through so much when the Scorpion King had risen. But now wasn't the time to argue about such a formidable and bloodthirsty foe such as the Songhoi. Jonathan knew he would have to take some stern measures in order to make his nephew stay put within the confines of the group. He didn't want to hear that he had found a way to slip away and wind up in a worse predicament than they were already in.

"My dear child, you are going to die," sneered Fremantle from behind the two. "And Uncle Jonathan isn't going to be able to do 'anything' about it! What a pitiful shame it shall be."

Alex's concentration was broken, as well as his glaring stare at his uncle when Fremantle uttered his threatening words.

This was the last straw as Jonathan spurred his horse around, galloped the few yards between them and grabbed Fremantle by the scruff of his shirt. Jerking him wildly off balance, Jonathan stared eye to eye with his hated nemesis.

"It is one thing to threaten me, but another thing to threaten my nephew!" Jonathan snarled in Fremantle's face. "Before this is all over, 'you' will die! And die, my dear nemesis you will, and 'only' by my hands! This is no idle threat. This is my solemn promise to you."

Jonathan roughly shoved the man backwards on the saddle. Only the extra restraints kept the man from falling off the horse. Fremantle started to laugh at Jonathan's promise.

Jonathan motioned for Alex to follow him and they both headed for the front of the column. Fremantle's laughter echoed on the air, following them. Alex's face betrayed his fear, and Jonathan tried to comfort him. Alex had always shown incredible bravery from a very early age. Now, coming within close proximity to the threat of that horrible Songhoi tribe, Jonathan's fear for Alex had escalated. Unfortunately, there was not much that Jonathan could do for his dear nephew. Their fate had been fixed. Now, all they could do was wait and observe for the outcome of that fate.

The Medjai, though stalwart and dedicated to the innocent and firm resolve in taking down the enemy, couldn't completely hide their edginess as well. This enemy had been encountered on several occasions before, and they were their most formidable opponents by far. Because of the sheer size and physical strength of the Songhoi, the warriors all knew that they would have to rely on the many years of training, their expertise in the arts of war, both physical and mental. The battle tactics passed down from generation to generation, from the father to the son, would now be applied to the fullest extent that anyone had ever known. The Medjai would oppose the Songhoi on an infinitely grand scale. Surely, before this confrontation was at an end, it would be one that would be recorded in the annals of Medjai history.

Jonathan watched his nephew intently. Trying to take Alex's mind off what Fremantle had said to him and the youngster, Jonathan motioned to Alex to watch as one of the Medjai warriors attached a note on a falcon's leg. Its destination was undoubtedly the Medjai at the Great Oasis, under the command of Shunnar. They both watched as the magnificent creature flapped its wings as it ascended high into the air heading in a more southerly direction. It had always amazed Jonathan how these birds knew where they were going and how they could differentiate between friend and foe. Thinking it for a good piece of conversational diversion, Jonathan began to comment on the beautiful bird.

"Alex, I've often wondered how those birds know where they are going. Have you ever asked Ardeth or any of the warriors how they do that?" Jonathan queried.

Alex sat on his horse and watched the falcon soar effortlessly on the wind. Its beauty invoked a tranquility that was felt by none. Alex felt the tension most of all as his thoughts wandered from their current predicament to what was happening to his parents and his friends, Ardeth and Shariyf.

"Ardeth told me that they were trained to do that," Alex said rather absently.

"Well yes, I understand that they were trained. I imagined that there would have been some form of training. But I was wondering how they were trained to be so correct in their destinations and identification skills," Jonathan added.

Alex turned his head from the faint image of the falcon in flight and looked at Jonathan intently. "Uncle Jon, I appreciate you trying to preoccupy my thoughts with other less significant issues. But there isn't a thing in the world that is going to cloud the issue concerning my parents or my friends. I am so worried about them! I hate these awful men who have hurt and killed so many for the sake of revenge. Revenge for what, Uncle Jon? The Medjai warriors are honorable men as well as all the Medjai that I have met. Yes, I know that in every race of people, you have your undesirables. And I'm sure that the Medjai are no exception. But I've never met a more honorable race of people than the Medjai. And to know that 'this' Zouhir was a Medjai and from what Bahir has told me, some of the men who follow him were Medjai as well. I just don't understand it. How could they have turned out to be wicked men?"

Alex paused a moment, eyes downcast, to collect his thoughts. He looked back up at Jonathan with confusion and deep concern evident in his eyes.

"I'm just confused because all the Medjai I have ever met are of good character. And now these Songhoi warriors are in league with Zouhir, which makes our problem even worse. If these warriors have indeed taken Mum, Dad, Ardeth and Shariyf hostage, what do you think these evil warriors have done to them? I fear for them, Uncle Jon," Alex finished, finally getting out all what was on his chest.

"Alex, my dear nephew," Jonathan said, marveling at such an incredible mind in such a small boy. "You are much too old for your years, child. I think that when all this is over and everything is right with the world once again, you can sit down with Ardeth and ask him all these things concerning the Medjai. I'm sure he'd be glad to be subject to your attention."

Deep inside Jonathan, a war was waging on. The thought of Evy possibly in the hands of these horrible men was much too much for him to handle. He was glad that Bahir had invited him on the scouting party. That would put him that much closer to his sister, if she were at the oasis. Inside, deep within the recesses of subliminal thought, he knew that she was there. And if the Songhoi at the oasis outnumbered the Medjai, then God help them.

The whole entourage came to a full stop at the wave of Uzmir's hand. He knew that the scouting party was soon to head out and wanted to talk to Bahir first. Now the initial start of the danger had begun. The proximity to the oasis was so near; the seasoned warrior could sense the slight moisture in the otherwise dry air. They were close, very close. The closer, the more imminent the threat of danger that would hang over their heads like a cloud of impending doom.

Uzmir and Quadir galloped over to where Bahir was giving orders and choosing warriors to form the scouting party. He had chosen twelve men, leaving twice that many or more in the main entourage. He was giving out orders to them, explaining the strategy to be used when they approached the perimeter of the oasis. Silently, the two listened to Bahir and acquiesced their own command, giving leverage to Bahir. Uzmir knew that Bahir was more than capable of a strategic plan of attack, as he was Ardeth's Honored Second.

"Bahir, my friend," Uzmir said while formally saluting him. "All is ready?"

Bahir bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Yes Uzmir, we are ready to depart."

"We will not be far behind you after you reach the oasis. The most time we shall be distanced by will be roughly fifteen minutes," Uzmir added.

"You are going to divert entirely off the southerly course?" Bahir queried. "With all due respect sir, I thought you intended to continue going south toward The Caverns while we searched the small oasis. Or have you learned more from other sources?"

"Bahir, I have learned much from one source—you," said Uzmir. "Never have I seen such a connection with another human being than what I've seen with you and Ardeth. I know he is there as well as I know the Songhoi are there. You will need the full strength of our company of warriors to combat our foe and rescue our king and those who accompanied him there."

Bahir looked at Uzmir, understanding now what he was referring to. It had been most difficult to hide what he was feeling, and the pain and suffering he was tormented by was impossible to hide. Uzmir must have been watching him rather closely to determine that it had worsened as they neared. Truth to be known, it was to the point of being unbearable now. Hideous, unprecedented pain had accosted him about an hour earlier and had only intensified each and every agonizing minute of that hour. He was sure that Ardeth or Shariyf, or both were under great torment now. Ever since childhood, the three shared an incredible link between them and under times of great duress, it was as if they reached out to each other, either to alert the others or to receive needed comfort from the connection. This time, it was great pain that was being divulged. But which of the two were subjected to it?

"We have always had this unique ability to sense one another's feelings. Shariyf and I as well," Bahir told him. "Something is terribly wrong. It is not like I had been feeling before, after we left for Cairo from the village. I know what that felt like. It was bad enough. This is beyond comprehension, what I'm feeling. I need to find Ardeth. I need to find them both!" Bahir said with firm conviction.

"I pray that it is not as bad as it seems, Bahir," Uzmir said, hopefully. "May Allah go with you, my friend."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Shocked expressions covered all the faces of the onlookers. Shariyf and Abdul stood firmly planted in front of Rick and Ardeth, their faces showing a defiance that the Songhoi found rather amusing. The whip-wielding warrior looked towards the two and shook his head, quite enjoying the little game.

"Well, you wish to shield them, do you? Then you shall reap your reward a little early," the warrior said, wickedly. "But not yet."

The warriors approached the four men. Several more warriors closed in around them, forming a circle. Two of the warriors roughly grabbed Shariyf and Abdul, forcing them to their knees on the sand before the pole of torment. Rick was still in front of Ardeth, desperately trying to protect him, but that ended quickly as another of the Songhoi grabbed hold of Rick and forced him to the ground as well, leaving Ardeth open to any torment the Songhoi deemed appropriate.

His head was bowed low, but his eyes were wide open, glaring with the revelation of searing pain running in unstoppable torrents throughout his body. Ardeth silently begged for death, but death was much too far off for his desperate need. There still was too much time to suffer before he would succumb to its grip. He could feel it's wispy tendrils touching him, taunting him. Ardeth knew that death loomed over him, but it was just out of his grasp.

The Songhoi warrior who had wielded the whip walked up, standing directly in front of Ardeth's battered and torn form. He grasped a hold of Ardeth's hair and jerked his head backwards.

Ardeth's eyes were still wide open, staring into the depths of nothingness. Great struggles for a mere decent breath had rendered his lips a pale blue hue.

The warrior smiled mockingly at Ardeth. Finally, they had him. A king, though still a mortal man, subject to all the afflictions and pain that any other human being would feel. But nevertheless, there was something about him that held the Songhoi warrior's curiosity. This king was Medjai, and the Medjai knew many secrets to all the wealth of Egypt, and secrets to power. The Songhoi warrior decided that he would possess this wealth and power, and, as he was the second to the chieftain, he would deny the other warriors the right to this great king's blood, which they all had waited to consume. The two Medjai kneeling to his left and right would be sufficient to satiate their need for blood as these two men were undoubtedly two of the king's commanders. Their knowledge would be great as well, which would be sufficient for his subordinates. But the king's blood and all the power contained in it was his alone. He would use this great power and well-guarded knowledge of the secrets that only this young king possessed to his advantage and take control over his own chieftain, thereby gaining power over the entire Songhoi tribe.

The warrior took a dagger from his belt, smiling inwardly that he would inflict yet more pain upon this Medjai before he drew his last breath. Looking directly into the Medjai king's eyes, he raised the dagger menacingly in front of the dying warrior, savoring the moment and the look in his blood sacrifice's eyes.

Ardeth had been told much about the Songhoi by his father and grandfather when they both had prepared him for his future role of chieftain. He knew of their ruthless behavior and bizarre customs. Although neither his grandfather nor father had witnessed any of the rituals, the information had been passed down from generation to generation. All the chieftains had to know every detail of all their adversaries for the preservation of their own race of people. Ardeth now faced one of the most dangerous adversaries he was ever faced with, utterly helpless to do anything that would prove advantageous to his predicament. He was near death and knew what this Songhoi warrior wanted now. Ardeth's weary mind wondered if there was any truth in the matter concerning the consuming of the blood sacrifice and the power and knowledge received from it. If it were so, then his people were doomed.

Shallow ragged breaths issued forth from Ardeth's mouth as the Songhoi warrior stared hauntingly into his eyes. The blade of the dagger slowly traveled over his chest and shoulder, leaving a thin bloody cut until the warrior was at Ardeth's blood streaked left arm. With a wicked smile dancing across his face and never breaking eye contact with his victim; he slowly pierced Ardeth's skin, sliding it effortlessly through the muscled arm. Ardeth flinched as the intruding blade burned his flesh, slicing through effortlessly, exuding a chilling heat as it impacted against bone. Ardeth couldn't help the weak gasp that escaped his lips. Blood ran freely over the Songhoi's hand, who encouraged it to flow even more by prying the wound open.

"NO!" Rick screamed at the warrior as he witnessed the man twist the blade, but his frantic demand for mercy fell on deaf ears. Nothing would stop him now. Soon he would revel in the taste of the Medjai King's blood. The warrior looked at Rick with the ultimate bloodlust glittering in his eyes.

Still wearing the hideous smile, the warrior reached inside a robe pocket and retrieved a small drinking cup. He placed the cup against Ardeth's newest wound and let it overflow with the mighty king's blood.

Shariyf, Abdul, and Rick, still kneeling around Ardeth as they were forced to watch this new torment, were sickened when they saw the warrior bring the cup to Ardeth's arm. They knew what this animal's plans were and knew that as soon as he finished drinking Ardeth's blood, the torture would commence once again.

Rick was beside himself with grief. He had tried to protect Ardeth from these vicious animals and failed. Shariyf continued to silently beg Allah to end Ardeth's life now, thereby sparing him from additional agony while on the other hand, Abdul begged Allah to allow him to somehow trade places with Ardeth.

A flood of panicked screams could be heard from the women and children as they saw what was happening to this poor suspended man. Whether they knew him personally or not, their hearts were filled with grief at the horrific image of a protector of man, a warrior of God, a Medjai, beaten and bloodied nearly beyond recognition as the level of his torment was elevated once more. Most of the women had thought that he would have died much sooner than this. He had proven them wrong and now it only prompted more suffering for his tortured body.

Ardeth looked away from the warrior as the cup of his blood was held high for all the other Songhoi to see. Darkness was closing in around him, spiraling down, tugging and taunting him to follow. He could see faces, many faces of family, friend and foe pass before his eyes. Many events in his life; happy times, sad ones and times of great turmoil replayed in sequence, from childhood through his adult life. Each one passed until he saw the last beautiful memory he had experienced before he had left the village that ill-fated day. The last joyous moment in his life; his beautiful Bahiyaa playing with Alia and Ablaa in their home the night before he was to leave. It was shortly before he was to tell them stories, sing lullabies and tuck them lovingly into bed. The images of them playing and laughing in front of the fire warmed his heart despite the agony he felt. His tortured mind fixated on this last happy moment, refusing to relent its hold on it.

Now, his body was succumbing to the numbness that was in his arms from lack of circulation. The numb feeling was beginning to spread over the entirety of his body. Ardeth welcomed it. Death was near, very near.

Loud cheers of the Songhoi drowned out the screams of the innocent as the moment long awaited for finally became a reality. The Songhoi warrior tried to get the attention of his victim but was unsuccessful as the man had hidden deep inside the recesses of his own thoughts or was possibly caressing the precipice of death. Deeming it nonessential for his victim to watch, he turned to let the kneeling men and others witness his consuming of the blood.

He lifted the cup to his lips and drank heartily from it. Blood flowed from the corners of his mouth as he relished it as only a Songhoi could. A deathly silence fell over the oasis as everyone watched the hideous act. The warrior closed his eyes and waited for the transferal of the great secrets.

At first there was nothing at all. No visions to be had. Then with a mighty force that the warrior was unprepared for, vision after vision of unfathomable caches of information accosted his senses. His body spasmed in response to the invasive attack on his mind and the warrior lost his balance and fell to the ground. Writhing on the sand, his eyes glazed over with an all-consuming look. His entire being was subjected to the shock of the mystical event.

Soon, it was all over and the warrior lay still upon the sand, shutting his eyes as soon as it had reached completion. Now exhausted, he lay on the ground savoring the few minutes he needed to rebuild some much needed strength. Opening his eyes, he looked around at his fellow Songhoi who had gathered to watch the spectacle. He felt as if his entire being had been newly rejuvenated.

The three men still knelt before the Medjai king, staring nervously at their friend. He didn't look alive. His head rested against his strained shoulder and the blood-flow from the stab wound had all but diminished. Whether it had slowed on its own accord or if he was nearly depleted of blood was anyone's guess. Everyone and everything within possible reach had been splattered with his blood, making for an incredibly grisly scene.

The newly rejuvenated Songhoi stood strong and sure of himself as he met the eyes of his other warriors. They all seemed to wear the same expression–disappointment. They had wanted to partake in the king's blood. Now, it looked as though the king had died, as very little blood was issuing forth from his wounds and his body hung completely listless.

The warrior smiled smugly at his subordinates and barked out orders to see if the king was indeed dead.

They started towards the suspended form, passing the three kneeling men. Great sorrow as well as relief weighed heavily on Rick, Abdul, and Shariyf's hearts. Sorrow for the great suffering and slow agonizing death of a greatly loved friend and brother, but relief for knowing that his suffering was finally over.

One of the warriors reached to lay his fingers against Ardeth's throat. He turned his head slightly towards his commander and nodded that Ardeth was still alive, but barely. The commander smiled at hearing this and ordered the men to prepare to partake in the blood sacrifice.

"These kneeling whelps are undoubtedly commanders of the king's," the commanding warrior said. "They will be rich with knowledge and power. You may partake of their blood."

"The king is still alive, why do you deny us his?" a disgruntled warrior asked.

"His blood was mine to receive, and mine alone!" the commanding warrior snapped, shoving the dagger sharply against the warrior's throat. "You may have the other two's blood. If you are not satisfied with theirs, then you can partake of your own!"

The warrior backed off, slightly elevating his hands in a sign of submission. He decided that the blood of these two Medjai would serve just as well.

Aggravated and tired of all their energy focusing on one man, the Songhoi commander was eager to get on with the torture of the other Medjai. His hate ran deep for their kind and the deaths of two more would please him greatly. He smiled with that thought and motioned for the warriors holding the three down to release them and distance themselves. He readied his faithful whip and prepared to unleash his fury once more.

Quickly, he drew back the whip and with a fast forward motion, the whip connected with Abdul and the shock of the intense pain caused a loud gasp to escape his lips. The whip was wrapped around his body still, with the shards of metal and broken glass biting deep into his flesh. His arms had still been doubly bound behind him as a precautionary measure but now his wrists were no longer tied, the sharpness of the whip having taken care of that.

The Songhoi warrior pulled sharply on the whip, taking Abdul down to the ground with the effort. Shariyf and Rick could hear the fabric of Abdul's robes rip harshly as the whip dragged along his body. New, bright blood became visible through the tears in Abdul's robe.

Shariyf, still firmly bound, stood and hurriedly ran to Abdul's side, kneeling once again by his side. Waves of pain-filled tremors coursed through Abdul's body. Shariyf's expression bore that of sorrow and hurt for his friend as he watched Abdul shudder with the pain.

"Abdul!" he whispered.

Abdul struggled to rise, his head bowed low. Shariyf could see the grimace of pain turn into a look of anger as his jaw tightened. Abdul had been through so much in his life, so much torment and deprivation. The anger began to build in him at all the hurt he had been subjected to. The anger worsened at the fact that he had been made to suffer silently and watch the fading images of those who had been murdered by his former father. His thoughts turned quickly to his mother and how the woman had despised his very existence since he was only five years old…how he was made to believe that it was 'his' fault for the way his father had turned out.

How many times had he felt alone, without a real home or family? His suffering heart could not bear the brutalizing of Ardeth, his Chieftain; the man who had reached out to him time after time from early childhood and throughout the following years to offer solace and show his acceptance and confidence in him. Abdul's mental visuals turned to Shatarra; how Zouhir's men had abducted her, tormented her in the desert and caused her unimaginable suffering as she watched her beloved son being tortured…how the hideous Songhoi had made a mockery of her brave attempt to save her son by beating and kicking her as she begged them for mercy.

His mental picture changed to the scene of Bahiyaa, Alia, and Ablaa. That bloody scene would forever remain a hideous scar upon his heart. Their faces, etched into eternity with the look of untold horror and fear as they were mercilessly killed.

"Abdul?" Shariyf said, a little louder.

Abdul turned to look into the waiting eyes of his friend. Never in all the years that Shariyf had known Abdul, had he seen such anger reflect in his eyes. This pain and anger Abdul was feeling was like a cancer, it continued to grow in scale with each confrontation at this oasis; anger fueled by an uncontrollable hate.

Abdul unexpectedly lunged forward at Shariyf, knocking him flat on his back.

Shariyf was startled at the sudden attack from Abdul, but found out quickly the reason for his action as the whip again came across Abdul's back. Shariyf realized that Abdul had moved to protect him, purposely landing directly on top of him. He cringed when he felt Abdul's body shudder from the impact of the cruel weapon.

Rolling off Shariyf quickly, Abdul grabbed hold of the whip that still dug into his flesh. Rising shakily, his face became transparent with the silent rage roaring through his overtaxed senses.

Abdul's hold on the whip tightened and the glass and metal tore deeply into his hands. He wrapped several rounds of the whip around his right arm and with a quick jerk—which was enhanced by the adrenaline pumped rage—he pulled the oversized Songhoi warrior forward, who lost his balance and fell facedown in the sand.

Shariyf watched incredulously as Abdul's blood dripped into the sand, even more heavily when he started to rip the glass and metal-laden whip from his hands, arm and body. Blood splattered on Shariyf as he watched his fellow comrade and friend finish removing the bloody whip.

Turning towards Shariyf, Abdul had the whip still in one hand and without a word, he used the sharp jagged glass embedded in the whip to slice through his friend's confines.

When Shariyf was free, Abdul rose and headed for the Songhoi warrior, who was just rising from the ground, still rather stunned at what had just transpired.

As Shariyf watched, he suddenly felt himself harshly gripped from behind. The warrior who had given Ardeth the potion grabbed Shariyf by the hair, jerking him back roughly and landing the smaller man against the hard muscles of his chest, pressing a sharp blade against his throat as Shariyf tried to regain his balance.

"Medjai, you want to play, eh?" the Songhoi yelled to Abdul.

Abdul turned his head around, not at all surprised that these warriors would use someone as leverage. "No, my overgrown adversary," he snarled. "Unless your play consists of my spilling your 'own' blood."

The warrior laughed at Abdul's statement, regarding it as empty.

Abdul dropped the bulk of the whip loosely to the ground.

The warrior who had originally possessed the whip stared at Abdul, wondering what his next action would be.

Abdul didn't move, continuing to stare at the warrior holding Shariyf in a death-grip. The knife was pressed tightly against Shariyf's throat, drawing blood…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Quadamah moved quickly towards the tents in his covert mission. As he gained ground, he realized that most of the Songhoi were preoccupied in the middle of the camp. No warriors could be seen around the camp's boundary and Quadamah found the entrance to the tent perimeter to be easy. 'Too easy,' he thought to himself. Something of a prodigious magnitude was obviously occurring in the middle of the camp. He feared for what that might be, as he knew that the Songhoi were in hot pursuit of his king. Quadamah closed his eyes tightly, offering up a silent prayer to Allah that his worst fear would not come to pass.

Moving closer, ever so slowly, he managed to make it to the tent nearest the clearing. Looking around the edge of the tent's side, Quadamah's eyes widened in horror at the spectacle laid before him. Blood. Blood covered the clearing as if a great deluge had rained down blood instead of water. Screams emanated from every area of the clearing, adding to the chaos and nearly deafening him. He looked at the center of attention in the middle of the clearing. Quadamah's heartbeat intensified with the horror before him. A man, battered and beaten, was suspended from a large pole. His features were unrecognizable, but Quadamah knew him well. He knew that it was his king, and grief overcame him.

His eyes shut tight and an anguished sigh forced it's way through his clenched jaws. He didn't know if his king was dead or alive. Some brave soul was standing in front of his suspended body, desperately trying to shield him from the deadly whip that sailed through the air. Only when the whip made impact did he finally realize that the suspended man was still alive, barely though it seemed. Both men reacted with the pain from the assault. The shielding form of the man shifted his position slightly to compensate when the whip was jerked back, tearing flesh from both men. Quadamah saw the face of the man, knowing now that the protector was Rick O'Connell.

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he scanned the immediate surrounding area and saw Ardeth's mother rocking back and forth, crying uncontrollably, reaching out helplessly with withered hands towards her son while two women embraced her in an attempt to comfort. He could see that she had been brutalized as well.

The tears flowed freely down his young face, not knowing what to do in this situation. Never before had he ever seen such brutality inflicted upon anyone. He had to do something, but what?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The scouting party had the oasis within sight. As they closed in, Bahir's anxiety rose tremendously. He could see the tents, could hear the screams. They all could. Jonathan was beside himself now with knowing that the Songhoi indeed were here in great number, and they more than likely had his sister. He looked to Bahir, desperately wanting to know what the plan of action was going to be.

Bahir started barking out orders to the warriors and turned to face him, a grave expression on his face.

Jonathan spared a glance as he saw the warriors disperse in various directions, in sets of two.

"Jonathan, you will come with me," Bahir stated, his jaw firmly set. "We will go forward as the others go and flank the enemy. We cannot wait for Uzmir. Help will arrive, and I hope it is earlier than fifteen minutes."

"Are we actually going in to attack before the rest get here?" Jonathan asked, anxious to rescue his sister. "We should be able to make a dent in them, right?"

Bahir continued to look forward, unable to determine what would be the right answer to Jonathan's question. A dent, yes, but they very well might die trying.