Early Evening

Bijan’s home

1999 the same day

Cautiously, Sharif opened his bedroom door and warily checked the hallway, noting with an abnormal amount of relief that his guard had disappeared.  He closed the door behind him and then crept along the wall as Eric’s dark head popped out from the corner ahead of him. 

 “C’mon, c’mon,” Eric hissed as he waved at Sharif to hurry up.  He relished their spontaneous covert operation and when Sharif was close enough, he snagged the warrior’s shirt and pulled him along.  He softly whistled a few notes from the theme song from the TV show, “Mission Impossible,” and then leaned back to Sharif.  “I have no idea how long they’ll be gone, so we gotta make this quick.”

“Where are they?” Sharif asked as they neared the living room.

“They went back to that restaurant for some more take-out, or at least I think they did.” Eric raised an eyebrow and suspiciously peered around the corner.  “But then again, Cece and Jamie could be hiding, ya know, like to fake us out? Man, I’ve never seen her so…so persistent with something when it comes to you.”

Sharif chose to remain silent as he thought about Jamie Richards; how she had managed to nestle her way into his heart was something the warrior would never comprehend.  He marveled at her determination and refusal to heed his demands to be left alone.  Despite an earlier conversation in the garden where Sharif had tried to tell Jamie good-bye, she had continued drawing him in to the household activity, most likely believing that his interaction with everyone was far better than the quiet prison-like solitude of his room.

Secretly pleased by her efforts, and enjoying the special attention she lavished on him, Sharif was very aware of the peril he was placing his heart in; being with her nourished the growing affection he felt rather than diminished it. 

How in the name of Allah would he be able to leave her when the time came? How had she become so important to him in such a short period of time, that he could not envision his life without her?  Futilely, he fought the attraction the best he could, but he was only a man…and Jamie was a loving, caring woman whose tender care had invaded his being, breaking the protective wall that had encased his heart.

He was not meant to have her; he was Medjai, she was not of his world. She was a barranidinyi.  She was an outworlder…she was….she held his heart in her hands, and yet Sharif unenthusiastically repeated those reasons each night before he fell asleep. 

Strange that they provided very little comfort.

“The coast is clear, let’s go,” Eric said and motioned for Sharif to follow.

Suddenly Zayn rounded the corner, absorbed in reading a thick manuscript and biting into the crisp skin of an apple. Engrossed in the passage, he never saw Eric, and the two men collided with a resounding thud. 

“Ow! Jesus, Zayn, do you have bricks in your shoes?” Eric whined and reached down to rub his throbbing shin. 

Zayn blinked in confusion as he looked from Sharif to Eric and back again. “Why would I have bricks in my shoes?” he asked, the apple poised in midair.  “And what are you doing out here? Why are you creeping through the hallway?”

“I’m not creeping, I’m rescuing; there’s a difference.”

Sharif leaned against the other wall and watched the exchange between the two men with a faint smile on his face, their encounter reminding him of his best friends, Makin and Solman. Between Makin’s strange sense of humor and Solman’s refreshing honesty when confronted with a situation neither was adapt at handling, they had somehow managed to survive the long months of training in the warrior sect. 

“Who are you rescuing?” Zayn asked, still baffled by Eric’s behavior. 

“Him,” Eric jerked a thumb in Sharif’s direction.  “I wanted to give Sharif a break and get him outside for some fresh air before the girls come back.  From their obsessive mothering, I think they’ve got the poor guy almost climbing the walls in that room.”

“SamaH ana, I have been far too engrossed in my readings to know who is here and who is not; where are Cecelia and Jamie?”

As Eric continued talking to the traveler, the smile gradually faded from Sharif’s face when he realized that there was a strong possibility that he would never see his warrior brothers again.  Mourning their loss, as well as feeling guilty for being unable to mend the rift with Sajid, Sharif quietly excused himself and boldly walked into the living room over to the sliding doors.

Zayn sighed as he and Eric watched Sharif go outside.  He turned back to the other man with a thoughtful expression on his face.  “In my limited years of service as a Traveler, I have come to the conclusion that all of us possess certain abilities or gifts, if you wish to call them.  And that some of us may never tap into the full power of those gifts while others use them with consummate skill. You, ya sahib, may doubt my words but your gift is a priceless one, especially to Sharif.”

Eric grinned and placed his hands on his hips.  “Lemme guess.  It’s my sense of humor, right? That’s my gift?”

Zayn frowned.  “La, I was not going to say that; I do not think you’re very humorous at all. I was actually referring to your friendship; your acceptance of and camaraderie with Sharif has been crucial and greatly needed.”

“I’m nobody special, Zayn,” Eric said. “I’m just a simple man who likes to make people laugh a little too much. And hey, since when don’t you like my jokes?” 

Zayn motioned for Eric to follow, and walked into the living room.  “Do you realize that for a few precious moments, you lift the burden from Sharif’s shoulders, and give him a brief respite from the weight of this world bearing down on him? And truthfully, I still do not understand why the chicken had to cross the road when it could have stayed where it was.”

Eric groaned and flopped down on the couch, remembering how long it had taken to tell that classic joke to Zayn who had seem more fascinated with the idea of the chicken being on the road.  “I wish I could do more,” he said.  “And can we please stop talking about that damn chicken? I’m craving some decent KFC like crazy here.”

“Do not underestimate yourself,” Zayn said as he sat down across from Eric and laid the book open on the coffee table.  “I greatly appreciate your assistance with the translation from the manuals and it has been refreshing to have someone whose opinion has not been tainted with the traditions of the Medjai to offer insight. Because of you, I believe I may have stumbled across something that could help Sharif.”

“What is it? Something like Sharif clicks his heels three times and says, ‘there’s no place like home’?” Eric joked.  He glanced out the glass doors and saw Sharif resting on the garden bench.  Considering his attacks were coming more frequently now, Eric thought it wise to keep an eye on the warrior. 

Zayn frowned in confusion from Eric’s question.  “La,” he replied, unfamiliar with the reference.   “The assistance is coming from an unsuspected source living in this household.”

Eric snorted.  “Well we know it ain’t Bijan.”

Zayn smiled as he pointed to the passage.  “It is Jamie.” 

~*~

Late June 1925

Egypt

Warrior temporary housing

Early morning hours of the next day

“How is your hand, Kedar?” Nabil asked as he placed a bowl of water on the stand next to the pallet.  He sat down next to Ralon and silently marveled that the other warrior was still conscious and almost coherent.

“My hand is not the issue here,” Kedar growled as he paced in front of the pallet, his dark eyes burning with a barely contained rage.  “I should have killed Dareejah long ago. I should have done away with her and dealt with the consequences.”

Nabil remained thoughtfully silent as he applied a cool cloth to the swelling under Ralon’s eye.  “Dareejah is not acting alone; would killing her make any difference?” he finally asked several moments later.

“It would have made me feel wonderful,” Kedar snapped as he continued his pacing. 

“And how do you feel, Ralon?” Nabil’s gray eyes sparkled with humor as he rinsed the cloth out in the basin; he couldn’t help but ask since he knew quite well about Kedar’s temper.  “Do you feel wonderful?”

Ralon felt confused by Nabil’s question since his head was still aching from Kedar’s blows and he shook his head, instantly regretting that action.  “I am not…sure what I feel….” he murmured dejectedly and sat up, gingerly touching his ribs. 

“How about foolish?” Kedar interjected as he stopped pacing and stood in front of both warriors, his hands on his hips.  “Does that work?  Immature…selfish…gutless, spineless…”

Nabil halted Kedar’s tirade with a slight shake of his head and turned back to Ralon, believing the younger warrior had suffered enough for one night.  “Here,” he murmured and handed Ralon another cloth. 

“Shukran.” Ralon gratefully accepted the cool cloth to press against the cut on his lip, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts.  “Aiwa,” he finally confessed, “I feel foolish and I should have confronted Dareejah as soon as the crime had been committed.”

“And you would have risked getting yourself killed,” Nabil said as he wiped his hands dry on a spare linen and stood up.  “Dareejah is far more resourceful than most give her credit for, and her minions, Thias and Itosh, eagerly jump to do her bidding. They would have killed you without a second thought and would have framed another for the murder.” 

“I should pay our beloved lady a visit now and disturb her much needed beauty rest,” Kedar said.  He bent down and glared at Ralon.  “But wait, I have a better idea.” He jabbed his finger against Ralon’s chest.  “You and I should pay her a visit; after all she is your stepmother…”

“I claim no kinship with that…that woman,” Ralon snapped and pushed away Nabil’s hands as he struggled to stand up.  To his shame, his legs wouldn’t cooperate and he awkwardly sat down, earning a look of understanding from Nabil.  “I should have…”

“I should have never allowed Dareejah’s actions to go unanswered,” Ardeth stated as he appeared in the doorway.  “But it would appear that my actions have been foolish as well to believe in the word of others.”  He leaned against the frame and rubbed his hand over his face, his dark eyes skimming over Ralon’s disheveled appearance.  “What in the name of Allah happened to you?”

“Kedarth,” Ralon replied just as Nabil pushed the cloth back against his lip, and he glanced over at the commander with a wary expression on his face.

“Your cousin and I had a long talk,” Kedar replied and he struggled not to laugh as Ralon tried to stand up again and fell back down onto the pallet with a dejected grunt.  “One that I believe you and your cousin need to have right now, oh mighty chieftain.”

Ardeth raised an eyebrow over the imperious tone in Kedar’s voice.  “Are you ordering me to do something, Commander?” he asked with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he walked over to Ralon.

“La, I am not ordering you,” Kedar said as he waited for Nabil to join him at the door so the two men could have some privacy.  “I am demanding it; there is a difference.”

“Sounds like you are ordering Ardeth to me…ow,” Nabil said as he walked by Kedar.  “Did you just hit my arm?”

“La,” Kedar said as he gave Ardeth a wink while he closed the door.  “I was tapping you; there is a difference.”

“Well it felt like you struck me…Ow! You hit me again…”

“La…it is all in your imagination…I would never…”

The door closed as the two warriors continued their friendly bickering down the hallway, giving Ardeth and Ralon a much needed moment to compose themselves before they addressed the topic at hand.

Ardeth pulled a small stool over to the side of the pallet and sat down, his critical gaze sweeping over Ralon’s dirty robes again.  “You are lucky to be alive,” he finally stated as he leaned a forearm on top of one knee.  “What in the name of our ancestors possessed you to provoke Kedar into striking you?  You do not recall the many brawls he got the both of us out of when we were children?  His strength is phenomenal and I am astonished that you are still alive and able to speak of it.”

Ralon dropped the cloth as he struggled for a way to begin; his gaze roamed everywhere until it finally rested on Ardeth’s face.  The lines were more prominent, and Ralon swore he saw a deep fatigue in his cousin’s face that was never there before; fleetingly he wondered if Dareejah had anything to do with that.  “There are many things I wish to say to you, my cousin,” Ralon began softly.  “And I shall pray to Allah that I am able to find the right words to convey all that I have seen and heard this night.  Samah ana if I do not make sense but…”

Catching the sincerity and lack of bitterness in his voice, Ardeth leaned forward and placed a brotherly hand on Ralon’s shoulder.  “You know you can always speak your mind to me, aiwa?  No matter what has happened between us in the past, we are still family and as much as I hate to admit this, Dareejah is correct – we are all that the other has.  We are still cousins and I will always protect you, I swear on my oath.”

Ralon smiled slightly from Ardeth’s words and he took a deep breath for courage.  “Now is the time for me to protect you, this on my oath I do swear,” he said softly, and slowly he began telling Ardeth everything, purging his mind, his heart and his soul. 

The two men talked long into the early morning hours and only after the sun had settled in the mid-morning position in the sky did they finally decide to rest.  The bond of kinship between them had strengthened and the rift that had divided had been repaired, the new foundation stronger than before.  Both of them knew and now agreed who the true enemy was but neither could come up with a viable solution on how to rid themselves of Dareejah without inciting the wrath of the Elders. 

And both of them realized just how skilled Dareejah was in manipulating them – tonight was the family dinner she had been planning for the past few days.  If they were to suddenly decline, that would arouse her suspicions and neither man could predict her behavior if that were to happen.  Despite their better judgment, both agreed to still attend but only after they had made some adjustments of their own to ensure their safety.

Dareejah was not to be trusted…and Ardeth couldn’t help but believe that going to the impending dinner party was going to feel like walking into a viper’s den.

~*~

Later that day – early evening

Cairo,

El Saiyida Zeinab District

1999

“The world we once knew has changed,” Emir murmured as the SUV sped through the crowded streets of Cairo, towards Bijan’s home.  He watched in silent amazement as people and cars participated in an orchestrated dance of movement and perpetual forward motion; surging up like the waters of the Nile only to recede and surge up again.

Bustling market places sped past the warriors in a garish display of wares as each vendor tried to outsell the other, claiming their stand had the best tools, jewelry, fabrics, paper, and birds. Solman had been fascinated when they passed the bird vendors located in the Abu Rish area of Saiyida Zeinab while Emir’s attention had been drawn to the varied dyed leather goods of another vendor.

“What in the name of Allah is that?” Makin asked as he pulled down his face covering to stare at the lone vendor located near the end of one avenue.  He had on display a dazzling array of silver and gray boxes that came in all shapes and sizes.  But what had entranced the young warrior the most was what he thought to be music coming from them, although it had been too loud and distorted for him to enjoy.  

“Bero, keep your sacred marks hidden from public view,” Bijan tersely instructed as they sped out of the market district.  “I do not want an innocent passerby to see them and cause any unnecessary speculation.  This is a covert operation and you are to remain concealed.”

“I prefer using my face covering since the smell of this time does not suit me,” Solman said and looked at Emir.  “It smells of neglect and decay, like a mummy’s tomb.  Is this what the Cairo in our time will become?”

Emir’s dark gaze slashed to Bijan’s before he answered, uncertain on how much to reveal to the warrior.  “I cannot say,” he replied truthfully, knowing Solman would know if he were to fabricate.  “I do not know much about this world expect what the Travelers have recorded in the Chronicles.”

“I will gladly show you those Chronicles if you wish to learn more, Solman.” Lahab smiled at the other warrior, hoping to appease his curiosity. 

“I knew I should have paid more attention when we had that class in the warrior’s training,” Makin muttered as he adjusted his face covering.

“We are here,” Bijan announced a little while later as he expertly turned the truck into a narrow alleyway near the back entrance to his home.  “Remember all that I have told you and do not be alarmed by Sharif’s appearance.  We need to get him out of the house and back to the gateway as soon as possible before it is too late.  His life depends on our swift action.”

“I will save the life of my friend and brother,” Makin firmly stated as he climbed out of the vehicle.  “I swear it before Allah and on my warrior’s oath – he will not die this day.”

“I believe you, warrior,” Bijan stated softly as they hurried up the stone driveway towards the home’s courtyard.  “For all of our sakes, I believe you.”

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

The Other Side – Part 7