Blackness, deep, unforgiving blackness, void of light, unlike the night she called home, surrounded her. It wrapped around her with clawlike fingers, cutting off the scream trying to escape her lips. She felt like a puppet with its strings cut, unable to move. The senses she took for granted didn't heed her call in this place of nowhere. There was no sound, no smell, and no light - nothing, except her and the endless dark. She was alone, stripped, laid bare, unknowing if time had stopped, or simply ventured on without her.
The numbness pervaded, until she no longer knew where the darkness ended and she started. Then, from out of the void, it came. It started slowly. A prick touched her consciousness. The hairs stood on end as tiny bumps pickled her skin. A chill danced down the nerves of her spine. Her head turned, pulled along by an invisible string. She stared into the ever-present darkness, knowing it drew closer. The chill grew into an icy vise, clamping around her, squeezing the breath from her lungs.
Her heart flopped over in her chest when she heard soft footsteps coming toward her. They grew louder the closer they came. How could footsteps create sound in a void? Why did they sound so strange? When they stopped, the darkness faded away, sending her to the ground in a heap. Buffy quickly scrambled to her feet. Blinking rapidly, trying to focus her eyes, she finally adjusted to the returning light. She felt light-headed when her senses slammed into overdrive as her muscles tensed, ready for battle. The Slayer sensed evil unlike anything it had ever faced before. It could taste it, smell it, even feel it, as it brushed against her skin, leaving a sickly residue.
She felt it draw closer then she saw him. He came into view with the bearing of a conqueror. Buffy allowed the Slayer full reign to assess 'the man' approaching. She saw where the darkness had gone. It lived in the creature walking toward her. He may look like an Egyptian Prince with his shaved head, golden skin, obsidian eyes and tall, well-muscled body. A handsome shell had fooled them once before, it wouldn't happen again.
He stopped a few feet from her. His full lips turned up into a semblance of a smile as his dark eyes assessed her from tip to toe. Buffy waited for his scrutiny to end and his eyes to return to hers. She could've waited several lifetimes before experiencing what came next. Peering into those dark eyes, she saw the depths of his evil. The horrors he intended to rain down on the world in his pursuit of vengeance and power. She shuddered at the sights in his mind and the void of his soul allowing him to create them.
The dark magics at his control called to the Slayer to break free from her bonds and kill him. Buffy started toward him, intent on doing just that, when she returned to the real world.
She woke to a resounding headache and raised voices. It took her a minute to remember where she was. She listened for the soothing tones belonging to the only person here she trusted. Buffy watched the dark robed bodies part like an angry sea. He strode forward seeming larger than life even as he folded those long legs to kneel down beside her. She hadn't even realized she was lying on a pallet until then. When she started to rise, Ardeth Bay gently pushed her back down to the pillows.
"Please, lie back. You fainted after pointing toward the Beast's lair, saying he was waking."
He hesitated, searching her face to see how she handled the news. The Elders had decided she was simply quoting what she saw and had no understanding of its meaning.
"Don't know what you call him and don't care." She shrugged as exhaustion pulled at her body. "He's coming. My dreams, vision, whatever you want to call them, are never wrong. He's coming and wants vengeance against you, I'm betting." She leveled a knowing stare on the Medjai. "Trouble is, he's had a good long wait to get his mad on and won't be happy with a little throw down with Ali Baba and his forty thieves. He wants the world to pay, to recognize him as the biggest, baddest, baddy around. So, he plans to bring on an apocalypse to show everyone he's the top dog." She wrinkled her nose at the thought.
Ardeth Bay thought her expressive face fascinating, though he didn't understand half of what she said. He understood she warned of Imohetep's plan to return and set about spreading unimaginable evil.
"Did you see what would set him free?" He asked what everyone wanted to know.
She felt the Elders move forward like a black cloud. It was weird to have a group of tattooed old men gathering around her. She knew they wouldn't hurt her, but it still garnered at least a two on the creep-o-meter.
"No," she answered hesitantly.
The answer felt wrong even as she said it, like the information lay somewhere in the recesses of her mind. She just didn't know how to access it. Her hand came up to rub at the sudden throbbing at her temple. Buffy closed her eyes, trying to draw the murky knowledge forward. She felt it there, on the tip of her consciousness, waiting for her unlock the door and let it out. Try as she might, she didn't know how. Peeking out from under her lashes at the unnatural quiet, she found her audience watching her with baited breathe.
"Uh, guys do you think you could back up a little? Give a girl some room?"
Ardeth Bay waved the Elders back, gesturing with a subtle motion for them to leave. His dark eyes never left the small golden face tilted up at him. He stood still as the desert until the tent flap closed finally leaving them alone. Moving from his kneeling position, Ardeth Bay moved about her much the way he would a wild animal, cautiously, showing he meant no harm. When Buffy didn't pull away or sound a protest, he gently sat beside her on the pallet, close, but not too close.
Buffy watched him sit beside her, unsure what he planned to do. There was something about this unusual, tattooed stranger. She felt an innate need to trust him and didn't understand why. He felt familiar, safe, like a port in a storm, which made no sense, since she had only just met him.
"Your head aches and your body has been though much this day," he said in a soft, deep timbered voice. "If you'd allow me, I could help take away some of the pain."
He watched as she weighed his words, before moving her head in the slightest of nods. Ardeth Bay placed his hands together, palms first. Closing his eyes, he started rubbing them against each other in a slow, smooth motion. A soft hum filled the air, keeping the outside noises from entering.
The soothing sound and contrast motion had a calming affect on Buffy's exhausted mind and body. Her lids grew heavy, falling close as she lay on the edge of sleep. She felt warmth seep into her cheeks. Tendrils crept up to her temples where they danced in tiny circles. The heat ventured further, stepping across her forehead on fairy feet before slipping into her hair to gather her head in a lover's caress. It crept past the skin to reach inside, warming her to the core.
Ardeth Bay heard the soft sigh escape her lips and allowed his eyes to venture back to her face. It rested in soft repose, appearing younger and more carefree than the warrior he knew she was. Slowly, so as not to wake her, he pulled his hands away from her head. He got up from the pallet, silently moving toward the flap. Turning back to ensure he hadn't disturbed her rest, he caught her whispered words.
"Must stop…Last chance…Last chance."
The words inexplicably puzzled and frightened him. He left the tent, giving orders not to disturb his guest. Calling for Horus, ignoring the Elders, Ardeth Bay smoothly mounted Kemwar and rode for the open desert. He had much to think about, the coming evil and the strange woman who was never far from his thoughts.
Evy wondered how in the world she had ended up here. She had lost her mind. It had to be the case; otherwise, she would've never listened to her brother. One would think a woman of her intelligence would know better. She swore after the last time it would never happen again, not without concrete proof, research and all the facts, not just the ones he wanted to tell her. But, no, she saw the key and her mind flew out the window. It was as if she hadn't a will of her own. Ancient Egypt, wanting to unearth its secrets to learn more about it, obsessed her. Her focus lately had centered on Seti the First, the last pharaoh of the Old Kingdom. Evy couldn't find enough information about him to appease her curiosity.
When Jonathan showed her the key with Seti the First's royal seal, and she found the map leading to Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead where the early Pharaohs hid Egypt's wealth, Evy had seen it as fate. Buried among its treasures was one of the most famous books in history and her life's obsession - The Book of the Living. Hearing about a book containing all the secret incantations of the Old Kingdom had intrigued her as a child. It fueled her curious mind enough to seek out more knowledge about the ancient world as she grew into adulthood. She was giddy just thinking about discovering the rare artifact. It would set those stuffy Bembridge Scholars on their ears; make them sit up and take notice, finally forcing them to admit women were every bit the scholars and archeologists as men and not relegate them to cataloging in libraries.
Her dreams and, yes, she admitted her greed, led her here to a prison, a prison where she learned her brother had stolen the key from a man headed for the gallows. The intolerable man, not to mention smelly, had the nerve to kiss her then shout at her to get him released if she wanted to learn the way to Hamunaptra.
So, here she sat beside the warden who had green teeth, feeling she might lose her lunch each time he smiled at her. The guards brought the man whose name she had learned was Rick O'Connell up the gallows stairs. Evy knew she had to start negotiating before her chance at Hamunaptra went up in smoke. She turned to the warden, giving him her brightest smile.
"I'll give you one hundred pounds if you release that man to me." The warden leaned closer to her, proving his breath matched his teeth. "I'd gladly pay that just to watch this one hang."
"Two hundred," she countered.
"Proceed."
"Three hundred." Her eyes went to Rick who looked up at her with a hopeful expression. She saw the hangman move closer to him as they exchanged words. Quickly calculating how much money she'd need for the expedition, she tried again. "Five hundred."
The warden leaned closer, proving his breath matched his teeth. "Perhaps, if you offered more incentive."
His smiled turned lecherous as he placed a grimy hand on her knee. She shoved his hand away unable to keep the revulsion from her face. The warden angrily turned back to the hangman, swiping under his neck in a cutting motion. The hangman pulled the lever, dropping Rick through the trapdoor.
Evy jumped to her feet, shouting, "Nooo!"
Rick's body jerked back when the rope played out. His body swung about, still very much alive. The warden chuckled as he watches the troublesome prisoner struggle against the ever-tightening rope.
"Hey, his neck didn't break. Good. We'll get to watch him strangle to death this way."
The prisoners protested, screaming in anger while the guards nervously edged away from them. Rick continued to struggle, gagging noisily. Evy looked on in horror.
She turned back to the warden and whispered, "He knows how to find Hamunaptra."
"You're lying," he spat back at her.
"Well, I never," she said, affronted.
"That filthy son of a camel herder knows the way to the City of the Dead?"
She quickly glanced back over to see Rick's face starting to turn red. "Cut him down and we'll cut you in for ten percent."
"Fifty." "Twenty."
"Give…him." Rick tried to choke out words as his color hinged on deep purple.
"Twenty-five and it's my final offer." Evy sat back in her chair, setting her chin at a stubborn angle.
The warden flashed a big green smile then raised his hand. A guard pulled out a scimitar and cut the rope, sending Rick crashing to the ground. He rolled over coughing as the prisoners cheered. Evy stood up and waved at him, sending him a bright smile.
He had sent Medjai warriors after the Carnarvons with orders to recover the key, destroy the map and leave no one behind with the knowledge of their existence. He had the dreaded duty to alert Ardeth Bay of their discovery. The thought of either leading to the creature's whereabouts scared him to the bone.
He had dedicated his entire life to ensuring the Beast never knew peace nor saw the light of day. His position as curator gave him access untold information. The Medjai had sent him to England at an early age to learn the language, culture and acquire an Oxford education. He had worked hard to win the coveted Curator position. Fortune hunters, grave robbers, even noted archeologists, found their way to his door, whether they came in the front or back was inconsequential.
Taking a deep breath, he walked over to his desk, sat down and pulled a sheet of paper forward. The scratching pen filled the still room. His hand swept quickly from right to left with sweeping Arabic curls, dots and slashes. Dropping the pen, he sat back in his chair, reflecting on the words he had written as a sense of impending doom crept over him.
Pushing away from the desk, he walked across the room, stopping at an intricately carved wall. His fingers slid into a niche in the carving. A panel slid open, revealing a hidden room where a Medjai warrior silently waited for his orders.
"Take this directly to Ardeth Bay. Stop for nothing. May the Gods watch over you."
The warrior took the letter, sliding it into the folds of his dark robes. He bowed to the Curator, before stepping back and disappearing as he blended into the shadows. The Curator didn't bother to try to follow his departure, knowing it was a waste of time. Medjai warriors trained for years before earning the markings on their face; stealth and speed were only a few of the traits needed.
Stepping back, the Curator closed the panel. He couldn't stop a wry grin from twisting his features. Many thought the Medjai were mythical warriors created to keep children in line. He had argued the point with the unyielding Miss Carnarvon several days ago. His smile melted away as the weight of his choice fell heavily on his shoulders. It was unfortunate the young woman had ventured where she didn't belong.
Ardeth Bay rode back into camp, feeling he had a better grip on the situation. Powerful magics were at work here and he planned to use the aid sent him with the hope it would be enough.
A frown marred his smooth brow when he noticed a crowd gathered around his tent. As he drew closer, he heard Buffy's voice raised in anger followed by his grandfather's shout for silence. He dismounted and waved the nosy crowd away from the entrance. A stern look had them scattering back to their homes. Entering the tent, he found Buffy and his grandfather facing each other. Their tense bodies, flushed faces and intent concentration on their opponent warned him the argument had reached a dangerous level. He hoped he could defuse the situation before either party did something they'd regret.
"I left orders not to disturb her while she rested. What couldn't wait for my return or her awakening?"
Akil-Barir's back stiffened at the censure in his grandson's voice. He hated to break the current battle of wills, as he continued to stare into green eyes shooting angry looks at him. However, Ardeth Bay as the Medjai leader deserved his respect, grandson or no. Heaving a heavy sigh with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders as if he carried the world's weight, he turned to answer.
"I heard her talking and came to see if she had remembered anything else," he innocently explained, which elicited a resounding snort from behind him.
Ardeth Bay caught Buffy rolling her eyes at his grandfather's words. Knowing there was more to the story, he tried again to find the answers he sought.
"You merely requested entrance when you heard talking?"
Buffy had no patience for twenty questions while the gorgeous desert dude tried to pry the truth from the bossy, old guy. She wanted a shower, some food and a bed where she could sleep for about three days. The only one she cared about coming first was the shower.
"If you call shaking me awake then demanding I tell him everything I know about your Beasty Boy, requesting entrance. Look, I know you're worried about possible world endage here. I can only tell you what I know, when I know it; yelling at me isn't going to help. It's just going to piss me off, which believe me," she paused to level a hard glare at Akil-Barir, "you don't want to do. I'm here to stop Mr. Impotent, no matter what it takes. Could someone maybe show a girl where she could wash up?"
Akil-Barir responded by muttering something impolite about her upbringing in Arabic. It earned him a stern look from Ardeth Bay, which he ignored.
"The stubborn woman refused to consider allowing the healer to give her a dram to aid her memories," he said it like it was a reasonable request.
Leading a tribe of strong-willed, dedicated people had taught Ardeth Bay how to play peacemaker. "Grandfather, she doesn't know our ways, and probably didn't understand what you're asking her or how useful the drams are in recovering lost memories," he said calmly, before turning to Buffy and smiling reassuringly. "Please, understand our entire existence revolves around ensuring Imohetep never walks the Earth again. Our ancestors were responsible for entombing the evil in a prison of eternal damnation hundreds of years ago. It's an oath passed down from father to son , which remains to this day. His control over the darkest magics was unimaginable in ancient times. They'll have only grown stronger through the years. So, perhaps you can understand why my grandfather has forgotten the courtesies given to guests in his haste to learn the knowledge needed to prevent this from occurring."
Buffy couldn't help but smile at him. "Smooth, you should think about going into politics."
He graciously nodded to her then waved a hand toward the tent opening. "If you would follow me, I'll take you to the women's tent where they'll see to your needs. Perhaps, after you've had time to refresh, you'll dine with me and we can discuss this further."
"Sounds like a plan, Stan. Lead on."
"My name isn't Stan, it's Ardeth Bay." This woman talked strangely.
Tara sat next to Buffy's bed. Her lips moved continuously as her eyes never left the tiny Slayer's body. She ignored the outside world, concentrating on doing what she could to help Buffy survive the trial. It pained her to see the normally vibrant blonde remain still over such long periods of time.
The small fists lying in repose against Buffy's chest would gleam before sputtering out as her head shook from side to side against the pillow. Her lips moved in a silent litany Tara couldn't make out, except for one word, which frightened her - darkness. The Medjai raised witch doubled her efforts to ease Buffy's 'sleep'. She kept herbs and special oils burning. Her spell-induced prayers drew on her connection with the earth and dedication to the Slayer Line.
Heavy footsteps, followed by lighter ones, came down the hall. Keeping her focus on Buffy, Tara remained aware of her surrounding. Mr. Giles and Willow were about to come for their afternoon visit. Xander came in the mornings before he went to work and in the evenings on his way home. Buffy's white knight remained stalwart and true. He hadn't forgiven Tara for her deception and still blamed her for his friend's current situation. His negative feelings made it uncomfortable for Tara to remain in the room, but she refused to give up her post.
"Good afternoon, Tara," Giles said as he quietly entered the room, immediately crossing to take up the position on the opposite side of the bed. "How's she doing today?"
Tara gave him a tentative smile, wishing she had better news to give him. "She had a good night. Early this morning, she was restless though."
She worked hard to pretend Willow wasn't hovering in the doorway, unsure whether to come into the room. She couldn't do anything to reassure her that the feelings they shared were real. Tara hoped time would heal the damage she had done to the blossoming relationship. She knew if Buffy failed, all bets were off with Willow and the rest of the Scoobies, including Mrs. Summers. They expected Mrs. Summers back today. Mr. Giles had volunteered to explain Buffy's condition to her mother. Tara declined his kind offer, explaining it was her duty.
Willow stared at the mysterious tattooed profile of the woman she thought she knew so intimately. She wondered if she had even begun to know the real Tara. This warrior witch and the soft-spoken, shy girl she had fallen in love had nothing in common. Willow had a hard time overcoming her feelings of betrayal to try to help with Buffy's care or even sharing space with her 'lover'. She slowly entered the room, quickly going to Giles' side.
She aimed her questions at the Watcher, avoiding eye contact with Tara. "Any change?"
Buffy woke, feeling refreshed after a full night's sleep. The quiet of the camp told her it was still early. She dressed, strapping the scimitar to her hip and hiding the knives on her body. Moving the flap aside, she exited the tent Ardeth Bay had given her to use during her stay. It was generous of him even though she said she didn't mind sharing. He dismissed her, saying it was simply desert hospitality.
She stepped out breathing in the crisp morning air. The sun had barely started to peak through the clouds, burnishing the night sky with red streaks. It felt strange to breathe such clean air. She studied the camp's layout without the distraction of its inhabitants. Tents stood in a standard horseshoe pattern with those holding women and children placed in the center for protection from attack. A soft smile played around the edges of her lips as she realized her tent lay with the other soldiers on the camp's outer skirts.
Buffy wandered around, memorizing the layout before heading toward the open space behind her tent. She stood for several moments with her eyes closed, simply clearing her mind. Raising her arms, she started the slow, graceful Tai Chi kata Angel had taught her so long ago. She lost herself in the movements, allowing the world to slip away. When the kata came to its natural conclusion, she slipped the scimitar from its scabbard and started a more deadly dance with the razor-sharp blade.
Ardeth Bay enjoyed the early morning when the burdens of leadership didn't lie so heavy on his shoulders. Horus flew above him, ensuring no enemies drew near. He rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks. There was Buffy dancing across the sand. Her movements flowed like the sand across the desert.
His dark eyes wandered over her small form, taking in the sinewy strength, the desert garb seemed only to enhance with her golden skin and hair. She surprised him when she suddenly stopped, only to start again, becoming a whirling dervish of silver and black. His breath caught in his throat as the full impact of who she was as a woman and a warrior struck him. Resolving to learn more, Ardeth Bay slid his own weapon from its scabbard and silently moved forward to join his guest in her morning ablutions. A mysterious smile spread across his handsome face.
Buffy whirled the curved silver blade over her head, throwing her body after it. She slashed and kicked at imaginary foes, as she grew accustomed to the new weapon. It was heavier than the sword she had used to send Angel to Hell. She fenced regularly afterward with Giles, intent on never facing the same situation again. He was a hard taskmaster, but a good teacher, showing her the finer points of swordplay. Not all would apply for the scimitar, but several would with small adjustments. The scimitar was a heavier sword meant for slashing and hacking usually from a horse. It was a brute strength weapon, which didn't mean there weren't those who had mastered it and could make it sing; where, a sword or rapier was lighter, taking down a skilled opponent took longer. The fighting was an offense tug-of-war, waiting for an opening to strike the fatal blow.
She brought her blade up to meet the one aimed at her head. A feral smile twisted her lips as her blood raced at finally getting what it hungered for, as the young need mother's milk - the dance.
They stepped back, raising their blades in salute one unspoken moment later it began. Neither held back as they tested their opponent, searching for weakness, finesse, quickness and that one last important ingredient needed - the willingness to go for the kill.
Buffy circled Ardeth Bay with her scimitar, holding it diagonally across her body as she kept him in her sights. He moved with her, never giving her his back. She watched the way he fought, learning, acclimating, and refining her skill level.
He knew she would be a formidable opponent. She surprised him at every turn. Just when he thought he had her beat, she would turn the tables on him and the battle would start again with higher difficulty. Ardeth Bay was suddenly thankful to his father's forcing him to start his training at such an early age. Most Medjai warriors start training at eight years old when they entered the first stages of manhood. Ardeth Bay's father insisted he start at the tender age of five, saying a leader needed to push harder than he'd ever expect him men to. After taking over the Medjai leadership, he understood his father's words. At this moment, he thanked him for his foresight.
The sun continued its journey across the sky, chasing away the last of the night. It showed down on the battling warriors' hands as they raised their swords to attack. Golden beams hit the markings on Buffy's hand, bringing them to life. Her weapon dropped from numb fingers as she stared in wonder at the glowing symbols. Ardeth Bay barely stopped his downward strike as he realized what had happened. He stepped stepping closer to see what had distracted Buffy.
Two separate parties boarded a passenger barge as it prepared to sail from Giza down the Nile, each with the single-minded goal set on finding the City of the Dead, Hamunaptra, unaware of the other. Danger not only followed them, but it lay in wait, hoping for them to find it.
Ghostly eyes watched the Slayer's fate unfold, waiting to see whether the unconventional girl would play into the enemies hands.
The sands whirled across the desert, dipping and swirling joyfully. Tiny, golden grains moved together to create an image with huge jowls, which it snapped open to let out a horrifying laugh.
Tendons shifted and pulled within an enclosed area to shift a mummified corpse's position. Its empty eyes turned as if they could see through their prison to what lay beyond, what was coming.
Pale blue eyes watched the still body on the bed. Small hands folded at rest across the small blonde's stomach flared, filling the room with light.
Interlaced voices echoing through the ether whispered, "It has begun."