Chapter Eight
Jonathan tipped his head, a quiet thoughtfulness to his features. Alex glanced at him, looking equally thoughtful.
"How long do you think they're going to be like that?" asked the boy.
Jonathan shrugged. "Dunno, sport. As long as they're tired I suppose. They were up quite late last night." Alex looked at his uncle quietly, and Jonathan gasped. "Take that look off your face - you're only nine years old!"
Alex lifted his hands in innocence, "I wasn't looking like anything, Uncle Jon!"
Jonathan gave a huff of a laugh and shook his head. Evelyn emerged from the other side of the steering house of the dirigible, stretching her arms whilst finishing off a yawn. She spotted Jonathan and Alex's rapt gaze.
"Well - what's got you two so enthralled then?"
Jonathan pointed across from him wordlessly, and Evelyn followed.
Against the wall of the boat and the front of the steering house leant the sleeping form of Ardeth, his face pressed against the wood next to him. This, in and of itself, wasn't so amusing. Sure, sleeping Medjai's and their propensity to drool were often great entertainment value, but what was really worthy of observation was the very comfortable looking Constance Adams cuddled against his chest. Her arms were draped over his hips, her face nestled in the nape of his neck, Ardeth's arm over her back in some subconscious protectiveness, a trait that was one of the strongest things about the man. She swallowed a smile, covering her mouth with a hand.
Evy muttered very quietly, "Where's that box brownie?"
Alex giggled. "We could hold the negatives for ransom!"
"Now, we shouldn't make fun," Evelyn said, patting Alex on his sandy-haired head.
"Why?" Jonathan said, squinting at Evelyn in the morning sun, "I made fun of you and Rick."
"Yes but Ardeth isn't as immune from embarrassment as Rick, and neither is Connie for that matter so scoot! The both of you!"
Uncle and nephew exchanged heavy glances before letting themselves be herded off by Evelyn.
~~*~~
Ardeth Bay felt a weight against him. He couldn't move. There had been days where he'd woken up like this, where he woke up and couldn't move, but it often accompanied a lot of burning pain and a terrible wound of some kind. He knew he had neither because Evelyn had been in Hamunaptra reading perfectly safe books and cataloguing perfectly safe pottery and artifacts and writing perfectly safe papers on old Egyptian religion. So why he couldn't move puzzled him. Till he took a long breath in to yawn. Flowers. Nice flowers - rosy flowers. He hadn't smelt roses for a very long time, not since his trip to
His eyes shot open and his body stiffened, shock bursting through him as he saw who was currently using him as a pillow. This didn't bother him, no, it was rather the inappropriate place his hand was located at that worried him, and for some reason his body decided to freeze and to not move in the shock. It's not that Medjai didn't enjoy the company of women, but there were customs and traditions and things to do before you got to the good bit, the feeling bit, the bit Ardeth was at that moment accidentally in the middle of. Tensely, very tensely, he shifted his hand away, and leant it, somewhat shakily, on the edge of the dirigible next to him. He had the opportunity to calm down now, to remember exactly why Miss Adams was laying against him looking so very comfortable. Nightmare, she'd had a nightmare. That fear in her eyes gripped Ardeth and he wasn't sure why. It was very familiar to him, and moreover it was very, very real. People didn't have that look in their eyes, that terror in their bodies and only have bad dreams about spiders. Rick had told him once that before Evelyn discovered the Bracelet of Anubis, she was prone to the odd nightmare that woke her in the night. It always bothered Rick, and he often wondered what she dreamed about. Evelyn said she never remembered.
He wondered if Miss Adams could remember.
The woman shifted, moving her weight, sliding her arm up and draping her hand over his opposite shoulder. She turned her head, her face leaning towards his now, and he could see her clearly. Fine red lines of his robe traced her cheek, but apart from this slight and temporary marring of her features, she seemed content, secure. Her blonde hair, golden and in loose curls, framed her face, tumbling and silky around her. It was a tad mussed, and very carefully, Ardeth pulled a tress from her brow to behind her ear.
He stilled. It was soft, so soft, incredibly fine, delicate. He'd only seen hair like this on movie posters and on actresses in the cigarette cards. Rarely did he see it in reality, in full colour, in smell and touch. Guilt played through him, for enjoying it so when she was not conscious. He would have to do something to make up for his misdemeanor. For now, Constance slumbered on, the morning sunlight reflecting off the side of the dirigible and lighting her face gently.
~~*~~
Connie felt comfortable. Very comfortable. Whatever she was laying on this morning (it changed from day to day recently), it was warm and soft and firm at the same time. It smelt lovely, strongly perfumed but not a flowery kind of perfume. It was robust, a distinct woody smell to it... masculine. Something in the back of Constance's mind caught onto that... masculine. Masculine? It was a very familiar smell. Oh well, it didn't matter, she liked it and she was comfortable. She had to get a dirigible bed or mattress or whatever she was sleeping on for her university house back at home, yes most certainly. Constance took a waking breath in, frowning and shaking the tiredness from her by stretching langourously whilst sitting up. These dirigible beds were warm, too - very warm. Except... there was no such thing as dirigible beds. Her body lay back against whatever she was sleeping on, (It certainly wasn't the floor - bugger that for a joke) and thought perhaps Mr. Izzy had arranged something for her. Flumping her arms down roughly there was a slight 'Ooph'.
Ooph? Beds, hammocks nor mattresses go 'ooph'.
Masculine?!
Her eyes looked slowly down at her hands. They lay against another set of hands. A set of hands wrapped in black fabric to protect against - well all sorts of desert things. Her gaze crept up the hand, up the arm, then behind her. Large, worried brown eyes greeted her as she met the features of the harried Medjai, and with a strangled yelp she jumped up to her feet.
"Mr. Bay!" she gasped, clutching herself, "What am - how did - what do you think you're-"
"Please, Miss Adams-"
She cocked her brows at him wildly, glaring. "Yes?"
He sighed, sitting up, somewhat stiffly from being in the one position all night. "You had a bad dream, and you sought comfort from me. There were no ulterior motives in this, I promise you."
Constance frowned, arms dropping, her mind scouring the night before. Of course... the... Her legs gave way and she staggered, gripping the side of the boat as she felt a wave of nausea hit her. Ardeth raced over to her side.
"The dream," she muttered, cradling her head. "Dear God... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Ardeth shook his head, his hand on her shoulder. "It is all right. You have nothing to be sorry for."
She shook her head back at him, eyes glistening with something akin to despair. "I - I shouldn't have yelled I - Oh dear." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think, trying to calm her spinning soul. It ripped her apart, the feelings the dream conjured up. Oh it was more than a dream. Dreams ended, dreams finished at the point of waking. This was something that haunted her, wrecked her, yanked and ripped at her soul. She looked to Ardeth again, licking her lips to staunch the nausea she felt. "Thank you, Mr. Bay, thank you. You didn't have to - well - thank you." Ardeth squeezed her shoulder slightly, and with a short but weary smile, Constance glanced to him. "Yes... yes well - perhaps I think - I think I need a little while alone now, to think."
Ardeth nodded. "As you wish."
~~*~~
Connie didn't feel like breakfast. She didn't feel like much at all. She spent her time at the prow of the converted river-barge, gripping the railing and gazing down at the dunes and rocky terrain rolling away underneath her. Jonathan sat at the pews at the wheel-house, watching her quietly, eating his breakfast of cheese and Turkish bread, Ardeth beside him looking equally troubled as the girl at the front of the ship. Alex was content with picking apart an old piece of paper he'd found in his pocket and throwing the little bits from the edge of the ship, watching them flutter away to nothing below. Rick frowned at him, shaking his head, and the boy shoved the paper back in his pocket. Evelyn was nowhere to be seen, and when she appeared from the other side of the wheel-house, she was holding small tin cups filled with water.
"Water anyone?"
Rick shook his head, as did Ardeth, but Jonathan accepted with a "Thanks Old Mum," Alex with a similar sentiment. She sat down next to Rick, leaning against him with a frown.
"Is she still not eating?"
"Not eating, not talking," Rick said, leaning on a propped arm.
"Not doing much of anything except stare at the ground," Jonathan added.
Looking to the remaining cup of water, Evy nodded and went to the prow. Her friend didn't look at her, didn't even seem to notice her arrival. "Water?"
Connie's eyes fell to the tin cup and she blinked. She hadn't asked for any, but looking at the clear liquid quivering slightly in the shiny cup, she felt her mouth dry and ache. Nodding faintly, she reached for the water. "Thank you."
"It's nothing," said Evy. She looked to the dunes stretch out beneath them, worrying at the silence that seemed to fill their conversation. "You know, no matter how many times I see it, Egypt just looks more and more beautiful to me."
Connie felt her heart seize up, the adoration and awe in her friend's voice for the country beneath her twisting her from the inside. She winced, looking away, trying not to cry, not to let her tears show. She felt Evy's hands on her back, and she pressed her lips together, containing a sob.
"Connie, whatever's the matter girl?" When Connie shook her head, Evy squeezed her shoulder gently, "Come on, you can tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that?"
Connie nodded, covering her mouth, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Well what is it?"
She sighed, looking out to the sand below, trying to reign in the sick welling grief that had been drowning her since she woke. "I had the dream again, Evelyn."
Those simple words chilled Evy, making her tense, and she tried not to let her fear show on her features. "The same dream upset you?"
"Not the same dream. The dream happened in the same place, but it was longer," she breathed softly, gripping the bow. Her clear blue eyes looked up to that of Evy's. "You were there. You looked so sad. I didn't notice before... I think you were crying." She gulped, and looked back out to the scenery around her. "Seti... the king was Seti. And he spoke to me... he said something about Ramla... that word over and over... Ramla... and these hands were gripping my arms... they were dark, tattooed. I remember the Pharaoh, he said I'd been plotting. Plotting against him. Threats against the king." Connie looked to Evy with glassy eyes. "How ridiculous, I thought. How silly. I didn't even know the man. You cried even more then, and I was shoved down, down to the ground. Someone said that word again... Ramla. They sounded so sad..." Constance's voice was almost a breath then. "His voice was - it broke my heart, Evy. I keep hearing it, again and again." She swallowed, looking to Evy very calmly, almost dour. "Then I saw on the ground a shadow. The man that said my name... I didn't see his face, only his hands. But I saw his shadow, and it raised a sword." She bit her lip lightly. "Then he chopped my bloody head off!"
Evy jumped a little, covering her mouth, startled. "Connie-"
"It wasn't just a dream, Evy, it was a nightmare," she said, voice broken with emotion, "And it's been haunting me all bloody morning. I've been going over and over it, trying to find the meaning, but I don't like any of the meanings I get. Get out of
Evy shook her head wildly, wrapping an arm across her friend's shoulders tightly. "No, Connie, no! We all want you here!"
"I'm not talking about you," Connie said. "I'm talking about the spirits here, here in
"You can't know that," said her friend, "You simply don't know. Maybe you were right, maybe there's a reason you should be here... I don't know."
Connie saw the hope, the softness in her friend's eyes, and the regret of her caution. She had been cautious though, and Connie knew all too well now that there had to be a reason for this, a motivation. After hearing her story of risen corpses and curses, it was obvious, all very obvious that she would be only a victim here to be preyed upon, defenseless and open to exploitation. She gulped, looking to Evy. "I decided you were right, Evy. I shan't do any channelling here in
"If - if that's what you want," Evy said, worry deep in her eyes, "If that's what you think is best. I mean, we must all heed caution, mustn’t we?"
Connie met her eyes. There was no humour or jocularity there. Nodding, she looked back out onto the dunes, tears in her light blue eyes.
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Hello From Sunny Hamunaptra – Chapter 9