| The Sisterhood Of One By V.N. Levitsky |
| Chapter Four Even with the assistance of some crushed bitter herbs placed under Imad’s nose, rousing him was not easy. Imad’s mutterings of ‘a pale white horse’ left the small group in a quandary. Bethany remembered it as a line from the Bible, but couldn’t decipher what it meant to Imad. It took old Fazeem a good while to at least somewhat loosen Imad’s mind from whatever held it in its steely grip. Once old Fazeem had managed to bring Imad to some extent out of his stupor, he and Joshua slowly led Imad to the medical tent. Bethany watched as Fazeem apparently instructed the younger Medjai over the bowed head of their patient. “Old Fazeem” was indeed old, she noted. His beard was as white as the long braided hair on her head. And yet as old as he was, he was still quite strong as he more than ably helped Joshua to carry Imad by the shoulders. She surmised that she had only seen a few dozen Medjai so far. But they came in all shapes and sizes, and most, if not all, carried an air of strength and authority regardless of their age. Ardeth and Fahd lead Bethany into the heart of the Medjai camp. She looked around, taking in her new surroundings, as the two Medjai pointed out various areas of the camp to her. It was a miniature city, albeit a seemingly temporary one of tents with stables, training areas and more. There was a rather thick, ten-foot high wooden wall around the entire length of the camp, with torches set into brackets every twenty-five feet or so, she guessed. Bethany could hear the night winds brushing sand against the exterior side of the walls, resonating delicately in the air like soft whispers between lovers. Scattered here and there were campfires, where small groups of warriors were polishing their saddles, mending their traveling tents or cleaning their rifles and various other weapons. And while the sleeping tents were all draped closed, Bethany could easily see the nature of many tents whose flaps apparently remained open for easy access. There was the medical tent that Joshua and old Fazeem had led Imad into. Oil lamps hung from the internal tent poles, illuminating the interior. They deposited Imad onto one of several empty cots. They then walked over to rows of small bottled herbs and medicines that rested on a long, rough-hewn wooden table along one interior side of the tent and continued their discussion. Bethany observed something as the young and old warriors stood next to one another. Their facial markings were similar to one another’s but different to the rest of the Medjai she’d seen thus far. She wondered if this distinction was a tribal or family feature, thinking when the time was right, she would ask about it. Fahd pointed out the supply tent with canteens and munitions and crates containing all sorts of things. Gigantic kegs of water boldly marked the location of the kitchen tent that was stocked with many wooden containers and glass jars, labeled with their contents. There were all sorts of dried beans, grains and much more. Stacks of serving platters, dishes, bowls and cups awaited hungry warriors to fill them. Freshly washed sheets of cheesecloth hung from a line inside, waiting to be used in making cheese. Many of the Medjai looked on in open curiosity at Bethany as she made her way through the camp with her human bookends, Ardeth on one side of her and Fahd on the other. Others were more wary in their observations of her. Ali’s story of being unarmed without so much as being touched had quickly made its way through the encampment. Bethany could feel their eyes on her. It made her feel as though it were high noon and her skin were being heated by the sun. Ardeth gathered them around an empty campfire just slightly off the center of the camp so that Bethany could continue her attempts at a crash course on Hitler and other pertinent information. The group now included Ardeth, Fahd and several other of the more scholarly and experienced Medjai that Ardeth had called out to as they had walked through the camp. This way they could hear Bethany’s story and perhaps make some helpful suggestions and share their own insights. After the introductions were made, Bethany went about giving additional background on the topic at hand. “Hitler has been slowly, but steadily rising in power. He was recently named Chancellor of Germany. He will be responsible for a great number of deaths, not in the hundreds, or even thousands, but we fear in the millions. There is concern that whatever he attempts to do will make the Turkish slaughter of over a million Armenians from 1915 through 1917 look like a mere slaughtering of the spring lambs in comparison.” Tarik, an older warrior, lean and leathery from the desert sun, with a short, trim gun-metal gray beard and a hawk-like nose asked, “Does the title of Chancellor bring with it power over and beyond the nation that gives the title?” Bethany decided to describe some recent events to clarify the extent of Hitler’s strength. “Well, he may only be Chancellor of Germany, but his power is and shall continue to be far-reaching. He has already suppressed a Czech rebellion and his invasion of Poland has virtually brought that country to her knees.” Ardeth raised a hand to stop Bethany momentarily and posed a question. “So, does he plan to increase his stranglehold beyond the borders of this Poland?” Bethany nodded somberly as she responded, “Everything points towards his wanting more of everything. More territory, more power, more control. The Sisterhood fears that Hitler’s time in power will make the witch hunts of Europe seem like nothing.” Fahd raised an eyebrow. “Witch hunts?” Bethany turned to face Fahd. She couldn’t explain why he irked her so. She was going to have to get her head clear about these strange sensations that she was getting from him. Animosity on her part would not help the situation, she keep reminding herself privately. She spoke clearly and without malice. “Yes. Several hundred thousand women as well as men were burned alive or hung during three centuries after often being falsely accused of witches. Some records argue that perhaps as many as half a million people were the unfortunate victims of these supposed trials against people who were believed to be in league with the devil.” Hakim, a short but solidly built Medjai with a lengthy scar on one cheek that slashed into his facial tattoos, pursed his lips. “And you know of these witch hunts because…?” Bethany spoke solemnly as she met Hakim’s gaze straight on. “Because I have read the records. Because I have seen the wood carvings illustrating the mass murders of these innocent women and men. Because I have read the confessions that were rendered with torture and still the blood of these innocents was spilt out of ignorance, superstition and greed for control over people’s lives. The Sisterhood didn’t exist then and who knows if we could have helped or not?” The warriors took a moment to glance at one another, similar thoughts in each of their minds. What if the Medjai had not existed when Imhotep had betrayed the Pharaoh with Anck-Su-Namun? Would the world today exist? Or would it exist at all? Bethany could see the each of the Medjai were deep in thought and waited patiently. She took a moment to gaze at Ardeth Bay. The tattoos on his forehead were creased with concern over the weight of her words. He turned away from Fahd to find Bethany looking at him intently. “Please, Ms. Krieger, continue.” “Well then, while I don’t know if the aspects of history relating to Hitler can be altered… I do know this… if this Hitler learns of the legend and power of Imhotep, any previous massacre in world history will be a mere pittance in comparison. The world as we know it is surely doomed.” Ardeth’s arms were crossed at his chest, his fingers tapping on his bicep. Once again, deep in thought, he hid his disturbance at how Bethany’s words echoed his own thoughts. He remained pensive as he listened to the questions and answers floating around him. Bethany launched into the next phase of her lecture. “It’s been said that he seeks to enhance his power in any way possible. There has been talk of his hiring gangs of archaeologists and sending them to the four corners of the earth in the hopes of locating any artifact of the occult. He has dozens upon dozens of historians scouring any book that they can get their hands on that might tell of spells, rituals, or legends that might enhance his power and even make his army invincible.” Hakim turned to Ardeth with concern. “Ardeth, perhaps we should send a message to the Cairo museum? To forewarn Mrs. O’Connell of any suspicious characters inquiring about the legend of Imhotep and Hamunaptra?” Ardeth debated this. “I don’t see how a warning would help to make Evelyn anymore aware than usual, Hakim. She takes great effort to limit people’s access to anything dangerous. Any artifacts at the museum relating to Hamunaptra or Imhotep are not on display.” Hakim nodded slowly in agreement. “True, Ardeth. But it would not hurt to have Sahar pass along an additional warning when she goes to the museum in the next few days, laa? Perhaps even double the guard at the museum for the time being?” Ardeth eyed Hakim. He noted the experience in his face, the harsh desert living and the battles survived. And aside from the battle scar that could be seen, Hakim had seen much through his eyes. Indeed, Hakim’s given name meant wisdom. Ardeth almost always sought out Hakim’s insights in addition to or instead of the wise words of his own parents, whenever they were unavailable. If preparation was a key principle of the Medjai, then perhaps forewarned was indeed forearmed in this instance. Ardeth’s hand reached out and clamped onto Hakim’s beefy shoulder. “But you do speak wisely, Hakim. We will have Sahar tell Evelyn to be on the alert and we shall send four warriors with her so that the museum will have eight pairs of warrior eyes on watch.” Fahd watched Ardeth turn from Hakim to him. “Fahd, tomorrow let Adham and three others of your choosing know that they will accompany Sahar on her next trip to Cairo.” “Consider it done, Ardeth.” With that settled, they turned to Bethany, so she could continue her lecture. But they discovered a question on her lips instead. “Who is this Evelyn O’Connell?” Ardeth replied, “She is the curator of the museum in Cairo.” “Can she be trusted?” Ardeth looked at her pointedly. “More than you could ever know. Why do you ask?” “Well, I was thinking that since she’s curator of a museum, she might have some insight on Nostrodamus’ words and how they might relate to Imhotep. Her specialty is Egyptian history but she’s a scholar nonetheless” Ardeth thought the idea had some merit. “Evelyn O’Connell and her family are close allies and friends of the Medjai. She has much knowledge of Imhotep that very few others have. If you think she would be helpful in getting you answers, then we shall arrange a meeting with her. Perhaps we shall send you along with Sahar and the other warriors. And while you’re here, you might want to visit with our wise woman, Mushirah. She has knowledge of many things such as legends that can be found in no written book.” Bethany hid her pleasant surprise at being given access to someone that the Medjai leader obviously held in such high regard. “Fair enough. You might want to inform her about a number of things. Other members of the Sisterhood have discovered that Hitler’s underlings have been found in places like Antioch, Damascus, Tanis and Mt. Sinai searching for the Ark of the Covenant.” Hakim asked, “What good is the Ark to him?” “Well, if countless men have spent nearly three thousand years searching for the lost Ark, it's not something to be taken lightly if it has grasped Hitler’s interests. No one knows its secrets and there are only suspicions about its contents being the tablets Moses presented the Ten Commandments on. There’s an old legend that states any army that marches behind the Ark is invincible.” Tarik shook his head in disdain. “So then that army could possibly be immortal as long as it had ownership of the ark? An army of warriors that can never know death?” Bethany nodded. “Looks like a distinct possibility. Like so many other matters. We’ve heard Hitler’s also trying to track down the true cross and there are rumors circulating that his henchmen are behind the recent attempted theft of the Shroud of Turin.” Tarik countered, “A shroud? But what possible power could some mere fabric hold?” Tilting her head forward, Bethany said, “Well, if it’s genuine… certainly the death shroud of Jesus of Nazareth could be considered a mystical relic. There’s no telling what kind of power an authentic artifact that was used to bury the Christ might have.” Mutterings broke out amongst the rest of the group. Bethany let it continue for several minutes while she organized her own thoughts before finally interrupting the chatter. “There’s also been talk of his searching for the Holy Grail as well because of its supposed abilities. And there’s been a flurry of activity with all things relating to a certain church in the town of Rennes-a-Chateau in France where it is said that a scroll recording the family tree of Christ was found and that shows Christ did not die on the cross, but actually survived, traveled into Europe and married into the Merovingian monarchy.” Fahd spoke up, “So this Hitler is leaving no stone unturned when it comes to the Christian faith and its artifacts – be it legend or fact?” Bethany nodded. “Seems as though… at least so far… he has been concentrating on legends and stories pertaining to the Judeo-Christian doctrines. He’s also been twisting Jewish old wives' tales into horrid parables about the Jewish people being barbaric. He’s been pushing a lot of propaganda regarding the legends of blood libel.” Tarik stared at Bethany, in shock. “But surely no one believes those disgusting tales of Jews slaughtering a Christian child to use its blood in making their unleavened bread!” Bethany nodded, a sad look in her eyes. “Unfortunately, this man is a compelling speaker, capable of making just about anything sound feasible. Those offensive fairy tales will only aid him in stirring up trouble between his “chosen” people and the rest of the world.” Fahd murmured to Ardeth, “this Hitler has no shame.” Bethany carried on. “But the Sisterhood have recently discovered information that he is broadening his search of occult items to include some of other faiths. The Sisterhood has sent me here to warn you to be even more wary than you might normally be regarding the City of the Dead.” Fahd, clearly insulted by something he felt was unspoken in Bethany’s words, spoke harshly. “How much more wary can we possibly be? The sole mission of the Medjai, other than maintaining some semblance of order in the desert, has *always* been to keep Imhotep from arising!” Bethany had unintentionally hit a nerve with Fahd. Trying to soften the tone of her previous statement, she said, “I don’t mean to suggest that you are not fully capable and competent of the job at hand. You have obviously succeeded in keeping Imhotep where he belongs for thousands of years.” The look that passed between Fahd and Ardeth and the other warriors was not completely lost on Bethany; it spoke volumes and stopped her from continuing. Quickly realizing that they had no intention on clearing up her confusion, she spoke. “I meant no disrespect. However, if Hitler manages to discover the legend of Imhotep, there is no telling what he might do.” Fahd spoke again, gruffly. “And what of this prophesy in your book about a priest and blood?” Bethany closed her eyes as she recited the prophesy: “The royal priest bowing too low, a great flow of blood will come out of his mouth… for a long time dead as a stump of wood…” Fahd asked more gruffly, “yes, but what does it *mean*?” “I’m not sure.” Fahd glared at her as he stepped closer to her, filling up her vision with black robes and a face almost dark red with rage, making his tattoos seem near-black. His blue-hazel eyes glimmered with barely contained anger. “You’re not sure? You’re not sure? Then what is the purpose of your coming here and unsettling us with all your talk if you are not sure?!” Bethany did not back down from Fahd’s approach, nor did she back down from his brusque manner. “Listen here, my good man. I can only tell you what we within in the Sisterhood suspect based on our studies!” Fahd’s nostrils flared as he muttered condescendingly. “Fine then! What do you within the Sisterhood suspect based on your studies?” Fahd’s mocking tone finally set off something within Bethany. Her honey-colored eyes brightened for an instant, like pieces of amber held up to the sun. She moved her right hand with astounding speed and with a delicate flick of her wrist, snapped her fingers in front of Fahd’s face. Fahd’s intriguing blue and brown eyes looked on in stupid shock as he felt himself propelled back about six feet from where he originally stood. There were two perfectly straight skid marks in front of his booted feet. Everyone in the circle gasped in amazement as the momentum landed him square on his ass onto the sand. Bethany closed the distance between her and Fahd in three short strides. Squatting down, she brought her face within an inch of his, her cape billowing out slightly as she shifted downward. She spoke with a lethally steady voice. “ ‘For a long time dead as a stump of wood.’ Nostrodamus *seemed* to be making the point that this was not a living being, but apparently someone who had been resurrected, brought back. ‘For a long time dead.’ ” Fahd just stared dumbly at Bethany. As did everyone. Bethany did not relent, as her tawny eyes held Fahd transfixed. “'The royal priest bowing too low, a great flow of blood will come out of his mouth.' The Sisterhood has studied this line at great length. “Royal priest” does not necessarily suggest holy or even respected. Just a highly titled or possibly powerful priest, just like your horrid little Imhotep.” She continued, her voice still deadly calm. “ ‘A great flow of blood will come out of his mouth.’ Now then, this line *might* suggest that by his actions, perhaps verbally, through a spell or incantation, that many will lose their lives.” Bethany slowly rose up to her full height, continuing to stare coldly down at Fahd. “But then, what does the Sisterhood know? We can not trace our lineage nor our mission as far back as you and your precious Medjai.” Bethany turned away before she lost any further control over her words. It was obvious to Ardeth that tensions were running high amongst the small group. They had been listening to Bethany’s explanations and questioning her for nearly an hour and as accustomed as the Medjai might be to the supernatural… all of this was going to take some time to adjust to. Ardeth placed his hand under Fahd’s armpit to help him up, but his gaze was on Bethany. “Come now. Enough of all this talk for the time being. Let us eat something and try to absorb all this new information so that we can begin to formulate some plan of action. If matters are as dire as Miss Krieger would make them to be… we will need time to study and plan at length and then act.” Bethany clasped her gloved hands together and made strange cracking noises with her fingers. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go check on my horse before I eat and see that he’s tended to for the night.” She began to briskly wander over to where she had passed the stables on her way into the camp. Fahd and Ardeth went off in the other direction with the others, towards the kitchen tent, with Fahd turning around every few steps to watch Bethany’s form recede into the other end of the camp. Fahd glanced at Ardeth and whispered conspiratorially. “Did you see what she…?” Ardeth looked pensively at the sandy ground as they walked, “Yes, I saw.” Fahd thrust his hands out in a gesture of helplessness and bellowed, “But *how* did she…?” Ardeth shook his head. “I do not know, Fahd… I truly do not know.” Seeking some reassurance, Fahd offered, “She knows much but doesn’t know about Imhotep’s escapes.” “Yes. But that should not be a great surprise. Other than the Medjai, the O’Connell’s Jonathan, and Izzy, no one else lived to tell the tale. Either tale.” Ardeth continued, “But before this ends or even begins… I suspect we shall all know more. Far more.” Ardeth quickly did an about-face and went towards the stables in search of answers, leaving Fahd to his own devices and thoughts. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The Sisterhood Of One - Chapter 5 |