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Brother Of My Soul

By Xanthia Morgan




First of all, let me say that I LOVED The Mummy and The Mummy Returns! Great flicks and I hope there is a third one at least. Having said that, there was far too little of MY favorite character, Ardeth Bey, in the movie. There were also some holes I felt needed filling in regard to him. Like, what happened after he got slashed by the mummy on the bus? Those were some pretty nasty wounds in my mind but nothing was said. I decided to take the road not traveled and fill in that particular gap. If you haven't seen The Mummy Returns, you probably won't get it. The first scene takes place after the incident on the bus and you should be able to keep up from there. I didn't really go into any details with the movie scenes cause I figure you already saw it.
Xanthia

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DISCLAIMER:
"THE MUMMY", "THE MUMMY RETURNS", AND THE CHARACTERS PORTRAYED THEREIN ARE THE SOLE PROPERTY OF STEPHEN SOMMERS AND UNIVERSAL STUDIOS. THIS AUTHOR DOES NOT OWN THEM NOR IS ANY MONEY BEING MADE FROM THIS STORY.

This story is rated PG-13


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Chapter One

When Carnahan had left, he'd managed to free himself from the slashed robes and got the first good look at the damage in the mirror. Taking in the torn and bleeding flesh, he had to agree with O'Connell on one thing - he hated mummies, too. The stripes on his chest throbbed with fire. He knew from experience that the mummy's razor sharp fingernails had left more than a trail of blood and ripped flesh. Centuries of rot and decay were imbedded deep within the wounds and they needed to be tended with more than just water and disinfectant. "Allah," he prayed silently, "give me the strength to finish this." He needed to hang on until they reached Cairo. Then his people would be able to help him. They could at least see him back on his feet. After that, if he survived, he knew that the wounds would have to be reopened and debrided, then cleansed with healing salves. A decidedly painful process he was certain, although no one had sustained such injuries in centuries and lived. He hoped O'Connell would be able to charter them a flight to Egypt tonight. The sooner he returned home to prepare his troops, the better. If anyone could prepare for the fight they faced. Their battle with the undead ten years ago almost killed them all. Now they must battle the Creature, the Scorpion King, and Anubis' army, for Bey knew that there was little chance they would reach Alex O'Connell in time. If there was one thing he'd learned in his years as Med-jai it was this: Expect the worst and you may survive. Everyone outside of his tribe thought him grim. Bey did not think of himself as grim. He was, in his mind, realistic. When you dedicate your life to keeping the dead buried you must expect that sooner or later the dead will win. He hoped fervently that this would not be that time.

His thoughts were broken by a commotion in the hallway. "Hey, you about ready to go?" he heard Rick O'Connell say just before the bathroom door flew open. Rick's mouth hung open and he stared at the Med-jai leaning heavily against the vanity, a bloody washcloth in his hand. Four deep gashes stretched across Bey's chest from his shoulder to his just below his ribcage. Three of them still oozed blood and Rick swore that he saw a glint of white bone showing out from at least one of them. "Ardeth, old buddy, tell me those look worse than they are," he said quietly as he slowly walked over to the sink.

Ardeth laughed, a dry rasping sound that was more a hiss of pain that of mirth. His eyes met Rick's in the mirror in front of him. "I was hoping you would tell me."

Rick came up behind his friend and with a gentleness that surprised the hardened warrior, pried the bloody cloth out of his clenched fist. He then helped him to sit on the small sofa in the bath's outer room. "Lean back," he said, trying to help Ardeth recline. "No, don't help. Let me. You'll just open those up again." Ardeth's face was a controlled mask of agony as he tried to relax and lean on Rick's arm. After what seemed like days, he felt the sofa's cool upholstery against his aching back. Rick frowned as the wounds began to bleed freely again. He pressed a folded towel against Bey's chest and put the man's hands on top. "Hold this," he ordered. "I"ll be right back."

Ardeth pressed as hard as he could against the folded towel, vainly clenching his teeth against the cry of pain that threatened to break free. "Allah," he prayed again, "give me strength."

Evelyn O'Connell stood in the bathroom doorway, a look of stunned horror on her face. Ardeth's normally tanned face was pale and his shallow breathing gave testament to the fact that he was suffering. As she watched, his face contorted in an agonized grimace and a low cry of pain escaped his lips. She ran forward and sat next to him.

"My God! Ardeth!" she said with a hitch in her voice.

Ardeth opened his eyes and tried to smile at her. "Evy. It looks worse than it is?" His attempt at humor would have broken her heart if it hadn't already been shattered into bits by her son's kidnaping. She looked into the hall behind her. "Jonathan! Hurry up, for heaven's sake!" She placed a cool hand on his face. "He's bringing some sheets for bandages," she explained. "We'll get you fixed up enough to make it to the hospital and then . . ."

"No." Bey's quiet voice stopped her. "There is no time. We must leave in time to meet the plane."

Evelyn shook her head. "You need a doctor. The cuts. . . Rick says they're bad, Ardeth."

"I know," he said plainly. "However, time is of the essence. I will seek help from my people in Cairo. Until then, I must be ready to travel." He could see the disbelief in her eyes. "Just bind the wounds tightly. We must find your son." The command in his voice could not be ignored. She nodded.

"Let me see." Evy swallowed and peeled away the towel. Her eyes widened in shock at the damage. "These wounds should be cleaned first," she said practically, willing herself to stay collected.

Ardeth Bey nodded. "A wise decision," he said, leaning back and trying to relax.

"It's going to hurt like hell." Rick said from the doorway, his hands full of linens. Evy raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Jonathan didn't seem to be up to this," Rick said ruefully. Evy shook her head. Rick laid down the linens and pulled a full bottle of whiskey out from under the pile. He nudged Ardeth's shoulder. "This'll help."

Ardeth shook his head. "No, my friend. I cannot."

Rick frowned. "Why the hell not?"

"Allah forbids it."

Rick snorted. "Allah isn't the one having mummy fingernails pulled out of chest now is he?" He caught Evy's frown of disapproval. "No disrespect intended, of course," he added hastily.

Ardeth's hands fisted as Evy pulled another piece of cloth from one of the wounds. "None taken." He looked over at Rick who was, himself, drinking deeply from the bottle.

Rick smiled a hangdog smile. "Allah didn't forbid me."

"Rick!" Evy sounded like a schoolmistress scolding a naughty boy. She turned to Ardeth. "Shall we?" She pursed her lips and began to clean the wounds.

Rick had said it would hurt like hell. And it did. Bey knew Evelyn was trying to be as gentle as possible but it didn't help. Even the whiskey would have done little to dull the agony that laced across his chest like lightning strikes with every stroke of the cloth. With relief, he felt the last of the blood and filth wiped away.

"My God!" Evelyn's soft whisper and Rick's low whistle made Ardeth open eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed.

They were looking at his chest, the center of which was covered with an elaborate set of tatoos, reminiscent of hieroglyphs on his skin. "What are these?" she asked, running her finger over them without touching his skin, trying to decipher the meanings.

"They are who I am," Bey said quietly. He closed his eyes again.

"Are all Med-jai marked so elaborately?"

"No."

Evelyn looked the tatoos over, chewing on her lip, this new puzzle sending any other thought out of her scholarly mind. His wrists and upper arms were circled with marks similar to those she'd seen on other Med-jai. But his chest! A glowing sun was emblazoned around his left nipple, a crescent moon over his right. A straight path of symbols traced from the top of his breastbone to his stomach where they fanned into an elaborate arc over his navel.

"Suns, moons, scimitars," she mumbled. "I can identify those readily enough." They were all clearly outlined against his dark skin. "What's this one?" She leaned closer to study a particularly elaborate set of markings. She recognized one symbol in particular and after a moment she realized she was looking at a rendering of their last encounter with Imhotep.

"These markings tell the story of your life!" she said breathlessly. "Each of these represents something that has happened to you or some task you've performed, isn't it?" Evelyn leaned in to look closer at one that sat by itself on his right shoulder. It was marred by a long sword cut, still oozing blood. "Oh, no! That man, the one in the turban, he cut through this one! I can't make it out. . ." Bey's hand shoved hers away from where it hovered over the artwork. "Leave it," he commanded in a low voice. "It is fitting that Loch-nah marked it. He is the one who put it there."

"That giant is your tattoo artist?" Evelyn was puzzled.

"No," Bey said quietly.

"Evy," Rick said from behind her where he was ripping sheets into bandages, "done sightseeing?" He felt terrible considering the circumstances, but watching her show interest in another man's bare chest sent a pang of jealously stabbing through him.

Evelyn blushed, remembering what she'd been doing in the first place. "Right. I forget myself sometimes, I know." Evelyn knew she was rambling. It helped take her mind off everything. And if she let herself dwell on the situation, she knew she'd go mad. Besides, lecturing always made her feel better. "I've done some reading since we last met. There's very little written about the Med-jai. You aren't supposed to exist, after all, but I did come across some interesting references, very ancient, of course. I'd love to know if they are still true. For instance, are there still 12 clans, each with a chieftain?" She spoke as she worked cleaning little bits of Ardeth's clothing from the wounds.

"Yes."

"I imagine in ancient times it was hard to coordinate them all."

"Not so difficult as you may think," Bey smiled slightly and cut off the question he could see forming in her mind. "You will see when we return to Cairo. Some of the old ways are still the best."

Evelyn smiled back. Glad for an appreciative audience, she warmed to her topic as she continued to work. "I also read that the tribes were governed by one ruler. More than just a chieftain, we would consider him a king. And although the line usually ran from father to son, it was not passed on solely as a birthright. Anyone who would be king had to endure many dangerous trials to be considered worthy and any one of the tribe could challenge the king's heir for rule. This also meant he took on the role of general as well, as he was usually the best trained among them. The book I found said the Med-jai kings were all elaborately marked. Each king's markings were unique and the longer the king lived the more markings he had. One king purportedly had markings over his entire body, even the soles of his feet, he lived so long. Can you imagine?" She looked up into his face and laughed, a little embarrassed. "I guess you could." Her eyes fell once again to the work her hands were doing. Ardeth Bey counted the heartbeats it took for her hands to still. Twenty. "Evelyn is a little slow tonight," he thought. Ten more heartbeats for her eyes to reach his once more.

"Oh my God," she breathed.

Bey said nothing, did nothing. He let the thought sink further into her brain. He was aware that Rick had stopped what he was doing as well

"You're their king." It was a statement, not a question.

Bey's voice was quiet. "I am."

"Why in the hell didn't you tell us?" demanded Rick, obviously not too happy with this news.

Ardeth raised an eyebrow at him. "Would you have believed me?"

Rick grinned mischievously . "No."

Evelyn was confused. "Why do they let you. . .?"

He did not let her finish the question. "There is no one else who knows these things as I do."

"But you are their king!" She truly did not understand.

Ardeth painfully pulled himself forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I have sworn to protect my people, to protect mankind, from the Creature. I know it must sound arrogant and self-righteous to your ears, but I ask you, can you think of any others who would do what we do? What we have done diligently for centuries?" His eyes met Rick's. "I would not ask any of my people to do that which I would not do myself. They can survive without me for a time. Forever, if need be. Right now I am where I must be. It is not a choice. It is my sworn duty. It is my life.

Rick studied him for a few moments in silence. Then he nodded.

"How could we have missed it?" Evy wondered aloud to herself.

"You were not looking," Ardeth replied. And then he smiled at her. A true smile. Not one brought about by danger or sarcasm, but a genuine smile that touched his eyes. It was the first she'd ever seen from him and she knew, in that instant, why his people followed him. "But now, I must ask you to keep silent about what you know. The identity of the Med-jai king is not known outside our tribe and there are those who would use this information against us."

This having been said, Bey sank back against the chair, unable to hold himself upright any longer. Evy watched him collapse and mentally chided herself for forgetting what she was supposed to be doing and got back to work. She removed the remaining bits of cloth as best she could. "It looks like the damage to the tatoos will be minimal," she said brightly, trying to change the subject.

"I am relieved to hear it," Bey said. "I would hate to have to go through having them done again."

Evelyn's forehead creased. "Does it hurt much?" she asked innocently.

Bey and O'Connell exchanged a look over her head. "I used to think so," Ardeth quipped. "Finish."

Evy nodded. "Rick," she asked, her eyes boring into Ardeth's, "I think we're going to need Jonathan now."

"I'm here," her brother said from the doorway. "Ardeth, old man, how are . . . Oh, I say!" Jonathan Carnahan paled significantly as he surveyed the bloody stripes. Bey would have laughed if he hadn't felt like the underside of hell.

Evelyn waved him closer. "Jonathan, I need you to hold his shoulder. Just there, that's right. Rick?"

"Got it."

She smiled tightly at her helpers as they restrained the warrior from behind. "Ready?" she asked. They nodded. She looked at Ardeth Bey, silently asking him for permission to proceed. He nodded and tightened his jaw. She then looked back at her husband, a silent plea in her eyes. Rick's eyes told her he understood and he tightened the restraining hand on Bey's shoulder. "Hang on," he murmured.

With a quick dash of her wrist, Evelyn poured the contents of the whiskey bottle over Ardeth's open wounds. Ardeth felt as if his entire chest were being ripped away. The pain was excruciating. He surged against the hands holding him down, his subconscious willing him to escape the terrible pain. He heard a loud roaring in his ears and then, blissfully, blackness claimed him.

"Rick!" Evy cried, raising her voice above the terrible cry emanating from the Med-jai's throat.

"Got him! Jonathan, hold on!"

"I'm trying!" Carnahan said, as he fought against Bey's sudden burst of strength.

Without warning, Ardeth lost consciousness and slid sideways. Rick caught him before he could fall and propped him up on the couch. Evy gasped and grabbed for the rest of the linens she'd brought. "What!?" Jonathan asked, startled. He looked down and saw whiskey diluted blood running from the four deep gashes across Bey's chest. "Oh, my!" Jonathan muttered, then his eyes rolled back in his head and gracefully passed out.

"Terrific," muttered Evelyn as she pressed the folded cloth firmly against Bey's wounds, quickly stopping the flow of blood. Her hands were shaking. When the bleeding had stopped completely, Rick lifted Ardeth's limp body and Evelyn bound his chest tightly with the long strips of linen. She deliberately ignored the tatoos on his back. When they'd finished, Rick gently lifted Bey under the arms and, with Evelyn supporting his legs, carried him into the adjoining room.

Evelyn struggled under the heavy weight and was relieved when they finally lay Ardeth on the bed. Now that his wounds were bandaged, the realization of what she'd just done crashed in to her. She found she could still hear Ardeth's cry of pain still echoing in her ears and she put her hands to her head as if to shut out the sound. Rick turned and saw his wife's stricken expression. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her shaking body. "I know," he said plainly, reading her thoughts. "I know." The warrior's cry had effected him deeply as well. He never really considered Ardeth human before. Now he knew better. And it worried him because he needed Ardeth Bey to help him find his son. He'll be alright," he said quietly, as much for his own benefit as Evy's. "He has to be."

Rick put an arm around her and hugged her shoulders. "He lost a little blood. He assured me he'd be fine if we would just let him sleep."

O'Connell studied his wife's face. She knew he was lying through his teeth. They could both tell just by looking that Ardeth was in rough shape. His swarthy features were pale and the thin sheen of perspiration on his face in the relatively cool interior of the plane was a blatant sign of fever. Still, they were going to play this charade out, for all their sakes. At last she nodded, pretending to be satisfied. "I'm going to go and check on him, though, just to see if he needs anything." Evelyn hurried back to where Bey slept and lay a hand on his forehead. His eyes fluttered open.

"You're a little feverish," she said quietly.

Bey nodded. He could feel the fever burning him up from inside. "How much longer?" he asked quietly, as if talking was an effort.

"A couple of hours at most."

"When we land, I will contact my people. Then, I will meet you tomorrow morning as we agreed." Ardeth's eyes closed again. Evelyn kept her hand on his head for a moment longer. From the front of the plane, Rick O'Connell watched his wife. He knew she was very worried about Ardeth Bey. He also knew that her worry for him was helpful in a way. If she was worried about Bey, she wouldn't be so focused on Alex. O'Connell knew that their chances of getting his son back alive were slim. He would never tell Evy that. But he knew it. And Ardeth Bey knew it, too. Of that he was certain.

"You gonna make it alright, buddy?" Rick was genuinely concerned. Bey found himself oddly touched by that and smiled tightly. "I will live." He pulled away from O'Connell's grasp and headed for the plane's now open door. He turned, the light behind him turning him into a dim shadow. "I will meet you tomorrow as we agreed. There are many preparations to be made."

"Ardeth. . ." Rick didn't finish. He didn't need to. The Med-jai knew what he was thinking.

"I will be there, O'Connell, whatever it takes. Upon my oath, I swear it."

Rick nodded and Ardeth Bey disappeared into the light.

"We talk while we ride," Bey ordered, pulling away from him and heading for the horses.

Bashaar stopped him again. "You are in no shape to ride, my lord."

Ardeth Bey turned the full force of his gaze upon his captain. "If I do not ride, we will all die. The Creature has been restored and he seeks the Scorpion King." Adnan gasped. "So you see," continued Bey, "I have no choice." His voice softened and he placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "There is much to be done by nightfall. I will tell you everything you need to know while we ride."

"Where are we going?" Bashaar asked as he turned Bey's horse so he could mount. Bey pulled himself up into the saddle with a moan he couldn't swallow. He closed his eyes a moment, waiting for the world to stop spinning. When he felt he could open them without wanting to retch, he looked to his warrior. "To the old woman's," he said. "And, Bashaar, listen carefully. I will tell you quickly all that I must for I tell you truthfully I will be very lucky to make it that far." Bashaar nodded, acknowledging his commander's honesty, and listened carefully to all he was told. Falhalil led their race through the city streets, giving Bey the chance to relay his information. Where they rode, people scattered. The Med-jai were still held in fear and awe here and few dared to oppose them. Bey did make it to their destination. Barely. As they reined to a stop, Falhalil and Adnan had to leap from their horses as their leader fell from his mount, barely catching him before he hit the stones below.

"Safiya!" Bashaar yelled as he and Falhalil carried the unconscious chieftain into the house. "Safiya, come quickly!"

A soft shuffling came from the darkened corridor beyond them. "I come, I come. I am an old woman, remember. I will come as quickly as I may."

"He is injured!"Bashaar cried, not bothering to name the ‘he'. Safiya seemed to know however, and the shuffling increased. "Zahrah! Light the lights!" The woman who served as apprentice to the healer hurried about, lighting the lanterns.

"Put him down, put him down! By the love of Allah, what has my boy gotten into now?" Safiya ran skilled hands over his face, noting the presence of fever.

"A mummy. One of the Creature's unholy guards," Bashaar answered as he and the other warrior gently laid Bey onto a low chaise.

"When?"she demanded.

"Almost two days."

Without being asked, Zahrah put a sharp knife in Safiya's outstretched hand and held the cloth of Bey's robes taut. Safiya ripped open the Med-jai's robes, exposing the blood stained bandages beneath, then cut again to reveal the deep, red furrows that were already swelling with infection.

"Zahrah," she commanded with the force of Bey himself, "you know what must be done. Get me my things."

"Wait!" Adnan spoke firmly. Falhalil reached out a hand to stop Zahrah from going further. Safiya began to protest, but the young captain kneeled beside her. "Old woman," he said reverently, "there is no time. He gave me explicit instructions: Get him on his feet as quickly as possible and keep him there for seven days at least."

Safiya gasped. "It is not possible. Look at him, Bashaar!" She ran a reverent hand over Ardeth Bey's forehead. "He is already fighting the fever and the wounds are infected. If we wait seven days, the very thing that will cure him could kill him, if the wounds themselves do not kill him by then!"

A soft moan from the man beside her caught her attention. "Enough!" The command was weak but firm. "It must be done, Old One."

Safiya turned sharp eyes on her leader. "You are in no shape to give commands to me, child," she warned with narrowed eyes.

"Then hear this, I command you not as chieftain, nor as commander of the Med-jai, but as your king. You will do this that I have asked."

The room went silent. For Ardeth Bey to invoke his power as sovereign was unheard of. Undaunted, Safiya continued to stare into his eyes. "It will be your death if you do this."

"It will be all our deaths if I do not." Realizing he was not convincing her, Ardeth gently grasped the old woman's hands. "The Creature has been restored once more. He has the key to Ahm Shere. He seeks to wrest the power over Anubis' army from the Scorpion King." The old woman inhaled sharply. "So you see, there is no other choice. My friends, the O'Connells await me at the airfield in the morning and I must meet with the commanders tonight." Ardeth lowered his voice. "Grandmother, if you do not do this, we are lost."

Safiya closed her eyes, whether in contemplation or prayer, Bashaar was not sure. He could not know that it was her anger she wished to hide.

"Grandmother! How dare he use that endearment!" she raged to herself. "Does he not see that he is dearer to me than life itself? Does he not know how much I love him, this son of my daughter? I would sooner cut my own throat than do this to him." She sighed. "Still, he has commanded me and he is no longer the boy I sang to sleep." She sighed again and opened her eyes. Bashaar almost cheered. He saw resignation in their depths.

"I can give you four days. But, promise me this, Ardeth Bey - in four days you will seek the help you need."

He attempted a smile. "I promise," he assured her.

"Bashaar," Safiya barked sharply, "help me up. There is much for us to do."

When he'd met up with the O'Connell's at the airfield, they had looked at him closely and inquired about his injuries. He assured them he was fine. His healer could work miracles, he told them. Seeing him seemingly fit and hearty had relieved their fears, just as he'd hoped, and they questioned him no further. They had no idea that the pouch at his waist contained powerful potions that would mask his pain and give him strength. He'd taken them sparingly, making the four day supply last six. Safiya would definitely not be pleased. Still, it was his risk to take, his life to risk. The O'Connell's had needed him. The commanders of the twelve tribes had needed him. Only he could lead them in this battle against Anubis' army. Oh, others could head the charge, but it was his presence alone that gave them the courage to continue. He knew that and it humbled him. But now the army of Anubis was safely restored to the desert sands from whence it came and he alone would pay the price for his actions.

Bey rode slowly toward his remaining troops, the majority of them having headed out already for home and hearth. His vision began to swim and the waves of silver radiating up from the sand were hypnotic. Ardeth looked ahead and, as if from a great distance, saw Bashaar frown and turn his horse toward him. He met his captain's eyes and smiled painfully, wanting to reassure him. But before any words could form on his lips, the world went dark and he plummeted out of his saddle, mercifully unconscious by the time he hit the ground, his wounds ripping open on impact.

"Dad! Mum!" Alex yelled, terror coloring his voice. Rick and Evelyn raced to the back of the blimp as fast as they could. "What is it, Alex?!" Evy cried. Turning her son, thinking he'd been hurt. Alex struggled free. "Look!" He pointed to the desert below. Ardeth Bey lay in a heap next to his horse, a distinct crimson stain spreading across the white sand beside him.

Bashaar raced the wind, desperate to reach Ardeth Bey. He jumped from his still moving horse and landed on his knees beside his king. "Allah, be merciful. Allah, be merciful," he prayed over and over, tears streaming down his face, as he turned Ardeth over and held him his arms. His hands fumbled at Bey's neck and it was a moment before he found what he wanted - a pulse, thin and weak, beating against his fingertips.

Falhalil landed on his feet beside Bashaar, then, he too, fell to his knees. He looked desperately into Bashaar's face.

Bashaar looked at his friend. "He lives."

"We must get him to the healer!" Falhalil cried desperately, not noticing the other warriors gathering around.

Bashaar ripped the Med-jai leaders robes away with his bare hands and saw flowing blood staining the bandages. He saw the yellow seepage of infection as well and he prayed again. "We must take him to the oasis at Ahm Vier," he said gravely.

"Ahm Vier is a two days ride!" one of the other warriors lamented, none of them bothering to hide their concern.

"Ahm Vier is where the Old Woman waits. She is his only hope now."

Bashaar turned his head at a commotion from the ranks around them. Rick O'Connell burst through the men around him and crouched down beside Bey, his eyes taking in the bloody bandages and their implications.

"Jesus! What in the hell has he done?" Rick shook the still form, yelling into his face. "Ardeth, what the hell kind of stunt did you pull?"

Small hands tried to pull him back. "Rick! Rick! Stop it! You're hurting him more! Rick!" Evelyn's voice reached him and he dropped his hands. He looked at Bashaar Adnan. "English?" he asked curtly. Bashaar nodded.

"What in the hell has he done to himself? He was fine when we left Cairo."

Bashaar shook his head. "He was not fine. He was gravely injured even then. The sense of well being and strength was a mask. A healer gave Ardeth enough potion to keep him on his feet until he accomplished his mission."

Evelyn was aghast. "A healer? How could a healer let him do this to himself?"

Bashaar smiled without humor. "Have you ever tried talking him out of something?"

Rick bowed his head. He knew the answer to that one. Evelyn was still shaking her head. She couldn't believe this was happening. "Why would he have done this? I don't understand."

Bashaar's gaze drifted behind her. She turned and followed his gaze to her son.

"Alright," Rick was determined to see this right, "what now?"

Bashaar sighed inwardly. "We need to get him to our healer. She awaits us in Ahm Vier, two day's journey from here."

"Two days? By horseback?"

"Yes, but I fear that Ardeth will not make it that far. Already he bleeds heavily and the wounds are dangerously septic."

Rick thought a moment. Then he looked at Izzy who'd joined the group around Bey. "Do you know where this place is?" Izzy nodded. "How long?"

Izzy thought a moment. "One day at most with a good wind. One and a half if we're not so lucky."

Rick stood up determinedly. "You better pray we're lucky." He pointed at Bashaar. "You - what's your name?"

"Bashaar Adnan."

"Right. Let's get him aboard. We'll get him to this oasis of yours."

Bashaar laid Ardeth's head in Falhalil's arms and stood as well. "I must insist on coming with you. I have some skill with this kind of wound."

Rick nodded. Bashaar turned to the soldiers around him and quickly issued commands in Arabic. Warriors scattered to do his bidding and before long a blanket had been brought to use as a stretcher and Ardeth Bey was carried carefully to the waiting aircraft.

Izzy pulled Rick aside. "We'll make better time without the added weight," he muttered, indicating Bashaar.

Rick grinned and jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the heavily armed warrior. "You wanna tell him he can't go?"

Izzy blanched under his dark skin. "No way! But still, we would do well to let someone else off in his place."

Rick thought a moment, then nodded. "Bashaar," he called. "Come here a minute." Rick and the Med-jai captain spoke quietly for a moment. Bashaar turned and looked at Jonathan, who was leaning against the edge of the craft, looking important. Then he laughed and nodded. Rick slapped him on the back and they made their way back to the blimp. "Hey, Jonathan, great news. You're gonna ride back with these guys," he gestured to the remaining Med-jai, "while we take Ardeth here to the oasis. We'll see you in a couple of days, okay? Great. Okay, Bashaar, let's get going." He lifted a foot to climb aboard.

Jonathan's hand pulled him back. "I'm what?! You can't be serious? You want me to ride with them?" He gave Bashaar what he hoped was a friendly look and pulled his brother in law aside. "They're vicious killers," he said very quietly through clenched teeth, even though he continued to smile at Bashaar and his men. "They'll leave me for dead in the desert. I don't think they've quite forgiven us for that little incident with you know who."

Rick laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Oh, sure they have! It won't be that bad. Think of it as an adventure. Besides, you might like it."

"I don't know, Rick. . ."

O'Connell cut him off with a serious look. "Jonathan, if we don't get Ardeth to this healer of theirs, he's gonna die. Plain and simple. The sooner we get him there the better his chances are. Izzy say's we'll make better time without your added weight."

Jonathan wasn't convinced. "But. . ."

"I thought he was your friend, too." Evelyn's soft, disappointed voice from behind him made his mind up for him. He threw up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. He is my friend. And I'll ride with his . . . his . . . um, other friends if it will help. Just don't expect me to like it." And with that he huffed off towards a horse that Falhalil was obviously holding for him. He looked into the brown eyes and sighed with resignation. "At least you're not a camel," he stated to the beast.

Evelyn smiled at him and waved as the band rode away in a cloud of dust. Then she and Rick climbed into the balloon. Bashaar and Alex had made Ardeth comfortable on a small pallet in the front of the craft. Izzy fired up the heat and they rose slowly into the sky. "West, right?" Izzy asked Bashaar. "West," the warrior confirmed.

Evelyn settled next to the warrior captain. "I'm Evy. Um, Evelyn O'Connell. And this is Alex," she smiled at her son. "Your name is Bashaar?"

Bashaar nodded and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips. "Bashaar Adnan. A captain of the Med-jai. I am honored to meet you. And your esteemed husband. Ardeth Bey has spoken much of you over the years."

"I'll bet," grumbled Rick with good humor as he knelt on the other side of Med-jai leader. "What now?"

Bashaar looked grave. "We should remove the bandages and wash the wounds as best we can. It will be an unpleasant task. The infection is great. If you choose not to help, I would understand."

Evelyn and Rick exchanged a glance. "We'll help,"she offered. "Alex, would you see if you can help Izzy with anything?"

Alex didn't move. "Mum, this happened to Ardeth because he wanted to help you and Dad find me. I want to help him, too." Evy looked at his solemn face. "I'm not a baby anymore." She admired him for his bravery. He'd been through so much in the last week and yet he thought only of helping Ardeth. Evy threw her arms around her son and held him tight. "I'm very proud of you," she whispered tearfully. "But if this is too much, I want you to walk away, alright?"

Alex looked into his mother's eyes. "I will."

Rick swallowed as the Med-jai took a razor sharp dagger from it's sheath at his waist and cut away the gore soaked bandages. Alex gasped and Evy turned away at the sight of the yellowish fluid oozing out of the cuts along with the blood. She could tell that the cuts must have come open when he fell. The angry, raw edges had the look of half healed skin that had been ripped apart. Evy dug her fingernails into her palms and forced herself to look back. She saw Bashaar looking at her with a small smile of pity. "It is always thus with these types of wounds. Although, I have not seen one this bad in a very long time."

"What happened to him? The other guy like this?" Alex asked breathlessly. He wanted to turn away from the horror of Ardeth's mangled chest but couldn't.

"He did not survive," Bashaar told him gravely.

"Well, that's not going to happen this time, now is it." Evy stated matter-of-factly, heart felt conviction evident in her tone. "What do we do next?"

For the next hour they washed and cleaned the deep gashes. Bashaar poured a herb scented oily liquid into the wounds, telling them it would help some with the infection. Ardeth remained mercifully unconscious through the process and they soon had him bandaged with fresh linens. "Now we must watch. We must try and get him to drink this potion every time he wakes." Bashaar produced a small bottle from his pocket.

"What's that for?" Rick asked.

"Fever. When the mummy strikes thusly, it is not the wound so much as the fever that can kill. That, and the pain."

"Well, can't your healer give him something for that? I mean, if they can make potions to keep him on his feet when he's like this. . ."

Bashaar shook his head. "You do not understand. The process for treating these wounds can be almost as deadly as the wounds themselves." He could see that they didn't understand. "When the mummy strikes, all that is rotten and evil in his skin imbeds in the wounds. The wounds must not only be washed and treated, but they must be debrided."

"Debrided?" Alex asked, not sure what it meant but figuring it couldn't be very pleasant.

"All that came in contact with the mummy's fingers must be scraped away," Bashaar explained, "otherwise, the victim will never be free of the infection. It is a terrible cure but we have found nothing else that will work."

Evy's hand was against her mouth. She couldn't believe this! "That's inhuman!" she gasped.

"As is the mummy. Believe me, Mrs. O'Connell. There is no other way."

Evy wanted to protest but Rick gathered her in his arms. "Evy, I know what you're thinking but we aren't the experts here. They are. After three thousand years they would have found another way if there was one."

Her shoulders racked with sobs. "I know," she whispered. "I just can't stand to think of him going through that. I thought it was over. I thought it was all over."

Rick held her close. "We all did, Evy. We all did."