Series/Universe: The Mummy
Disclaimers: M7 characters belong to Trilogy, et al. Mummy characters (particularly Ardeth Bey, Lock-Nah, the Carnahan-O'Connell family and Imotep) all belong to Stephen Sommers. Original characters are all mine ... don't mind if you borrow them, just ask first, give them back intact and give credit where credit is due.
Warnings: The usual ... violence, language, and references to ugliness. Oh yeah, and the original characters. Can't forget them.
Spoilers: All twenty-one episodes, both Mummy movies, though more of an emphasis on the second (and my favorite, since it has more Ardeth)
Authors Notes: Get comfy, this is gonna take a few minutes. First and foremost, please be patient ... the prologue is Ardeth-heavy, as I'm laying the groundwork for the rest of the story. Chris and the boys make their appearance in the fourth section, which I'm now writing. There are mentions of them, but Josiah is the only one to actually appear.
This is a one shot deal ... I'm not planning on writing any more stories in this AU (at least, not at the moment). However, if you wanna play in this sandbox, go right ahead. I have no problem with that.
I've changed a few things. First, this is something I've wanted to do for a long time. Mary is Orrin's daughter in this story, not his daughter-in-law, and Stephen's sister.
You'll note, too, that I make reference in later chapters (set in 1933) to the events of the first film being seven years in the past. That's actually canonically correct. While Ardeth and the Med-jai first knew of Rick in 1923, when he was part of the Legion, the two didn't actually meet until 1926. I've also worked around the problem of Alex, since he's eight years old in the second film. Bear with me, I do know what I'm doing.
There's probably a lot more I'm forgetting, but I'll post those author's notes as I post the stories. If you've got the TMR soundtrack, I listened to this often while writing (okay, all the time); especially the pieces 'Evy Kidnapped,' and 'My First Bus Ride.' (the source of one of the best lines in the movie).
With that in mind, enjoy the fic!
It wasn't that hard to find him. He had hired a pilot of his own, after overhearing a conversation between the young American and the not so young British pilot. He knew where they were going, knew why they were going. The only thing he didn't know was why he was going. No, that wasn't true. He knew exactly why. The reason was now cradled against his chest, as if he was still a child.
Josiah Sanchez looked around as he left the mummy-infested corridor, where he had found his current cargo. The explosion had annihilated the mummies ... who had ironically ended up protecting the man whose life they had been trying to steal only moments earlier. Josiah had found him lying at the bottom of the pile, unconscious. And again, Josiah's heart beat double time, remembering his fear that he had lost yet someone else dear to him ... that he had failed someone else who was important to him. Just as he had failed this young man's uncle.
From down the hall, Josiah heard voices and shouts. Two people, maybe three, facing the Creature. Josiah didn't think about how odd it was, that he called the high priest of Seti 'the Creature.' It was, after all, what the Med-jai called him, 'He who must not be named.' And the Med-jai had been his friends for years. Down the hall, the hom-dai would once again be cast, but Josiah didn't care. He wasn't going that way.
No, he had other responsibilities right now. He shifted his precious cargo, ever so slightly, but it was enough to awaken him. A hoarse voice whispered, "Josiah. Go ... go, help him, help O'Connell. I'll live ... go!" But the voice lacked strength ... it lacked its usual command. Command which was there even as a young boy.
Josiah looked down at the man he was carrying with a tender, exasperated smile. He was barely conscious, but quite insistent. Some things never changed, and if Josiah was truly honest with himself, he wouldn't want them to change either. Least of all this young man. No ... no, he would never ask this young man to change. He would not want him to be anything other than what he was, in his heart and soul.
"O'Connell isn't my concern right now, Ardeth, you are. I swore an oath to your father and your uncle that I would look out for you," Josiah answered. There was a soft groan from his young friend, and Josiah added silently that he had reaffirmed that vow when he saw his old friend, Dr. Terrence Bey, go down. Josiah had seen the uncle and nephew fleeing from the crowd, and followed, hoping to help. At a distance, he watched the girl give herself to Imhotep, to save the others ... only to hear him sentence them to die. He watched as Terrence sacrificed himself so the others could get away. Including his nephew, the young chieftain of the Med-jai, Ardeth Bey.
Josiah had met Terrence many years earlier, when the son of a missionary met the second son of a chieftain. It had been the intention of Zachariah Sanchez to convert the heathen Egyptians to Christianity and save their immortal souls. Things didn't work out the way he planned ... if anything, Zachariah's plans had been a disaster. His only son grew fascinated not only with the Muslim religion, but with the tattoo-wearing Med-jai.
But Josiah had never been happier. After he left Egypt, he maintained a correspondence with Terrence and his older brother, who became chieftain shortly after Josiah's departure. It was a friendship which would remain strong through the years, ending only with the death of first Suleiman Bey, then his younger brother much more recently. Josiah had been privileged enough to watch the new chieftain grow up.
Calling young Ardeth a chieftain was something of a misnomer. The Med-jai numbered in the thousands. Like the children of Israel, there were twelve tribes. To each tribe was a commander ... a general, for lack of a better word. Ardeth was a general and more. He could easily be described as a king, this young man who assumed his weighty responsibility at the age of seventeen with the death of his father.
Josiah, as a friend to both Suleiman and Terrence, held an honored position in the young chieftain's life. After Suleiman's death, he watched as the young boy fought to push his own grief aside to be the strong leader his people needed. He watched as Ardeth comforted his family, his people, his uncle, and kept his tears to himself. He watched and it broke his heart, even as he understood that the Med-jai needed their new leader's strength. He watched until he could take it no longer ... until the boy could be strong no longer, and it was in Josiah Sanchez's arms that Ardeth finally wept.
And again, the young leader whispered, "Go to them! They need help against the Creature." Josiah said nothing as he at last reached the safety of the outside. O'Connell would be fine. The girl would be fine. Josiah was more concerned with his young friend at the moment. They reached the camels and the older man gently settled the younger on the sand. Still kneeling in front of his friend, Josiah began to check Ardeth over more carefully.
"I'm fine, Josiah," came the sighed response to Josiah's ministrations. Fine. Uh-huh. He had seen his uncle die, the Creature reborn ... three thousand years of sentinel duty turned into the sand where Ardeth now rested, and he was fine? Not likely. Then again, Ardeth had spent the last nine years of his life being the strong one, forcing his own needs aside because his people needed him. Did Josiah really expect anything different now?
No. He didn't. The big man sighed, "No, son, you're not fine. But you will be." Ardeth started to protest, and Josiah set both hands on his shoulders. He said softly, "Let me do this for you, Ardeth. I couldn't save your uncle, who was as my own brother." His uncle. Ardeth's dark eyes grew darker and the dark head fell forward. Not surprisingly, Ardeth had not yet allowed himself to grieve for his uncle.
"My uncle is dead because of me, Josiah ... because I failed to keep the Creature from rising," Ardeth said quietly, raising his head to look at the American with burning eyes. Josiah started to speak, but this time, it was Ardeth's turn to keep going. He whispered, "I am the Med-jai chieftain, Josiah! It is my duty, my responsibility, to make sure the Creature does not rise up! It is my failure!"
"Not just yours, Ardeth," Josiah reminded him quietly, "you're only one man. And there is plenty of blame to go around. Terrence chose to attack the slaves. O'Connell and the girl chose to go to Hamunaptra, find the Creature and read from the Book. It was the choice of the other men to ignore the warnings set before them. The choice you made was for life. To let people live. To learn from their mistakes."
"I ... failed," Ardeth repeated and Josiah drew a deep breath, sighing. He wished he knew what he could do or say, which would penetrate the mind of this stubborn young man. The truth was, however, that there was nothing he could do or say. Ardeth was stubborn, he always had been. It was, in truth, one of the things which kept him moving forward. Which kept him strong, and Josiah couldn't fight against that truth.
But Ardeth was young yet. He hadn't yet learned to forgive himself for simply being human. It was hard enough to forgive his ancestors for what they had done, all those thousands of years ago. Josiah gritted his teeth. Yes, three thousand years worth of destiny lay upon the shoulders of a twenty-six year old man, aged far beyond his years in so many ways. When was the last time Ardeth laughed?
He could remember a time, many years ago, when Ardeth knew how to laugh. Oh, he had always been a serious child, as the next chieftain should be. But there was mischief in his soul, and Josiah had learned to find a safe place when Ardeth's dark eyes began to twinkle in a certain light. Josiah hadn't seen that expression in nine years. He wanted to see it again. But right now, he would settle for just seeing some self-forgiveness in those dark eyes.
Instead, he said softly, "One day, son, you'll know how wrong you are." There was much responsibility to be spread about. One day, Ardeth would understand that. One day ... one day. But for now ... he had hurts to tend to.
"Stay close, Adriana, there's a good girl."
The young woman rolled her eyes. Good girl? For heaven's sake, she was twenty-three years old, not thirteen! Still, she remained as near to her 'guardian' as she could, without physically attaching herself to him. He was her best friend's brother, after all. Even if he was an annoying, sometimes self-righteous jerk. Mary could be judgmental as well, but at least she wasn't condescending. No, she knew better ... knew Adriana would box her ears, or worse.
Stephen, on the other hand ... ugh. Adriana sighed and kept looking around as she followed behind her friend's brother. She remembered what she had been told about the silent protectors of the desert, the Med-jai. Funny, how the pronunciation sounded so much like 'Magi.' The wise men of the Bible, the mages who had welcomed the newborn King with gifts. They were the reason she was in Egypt, actually. She was an Egyptologist, but she was also working as an assistant to Stephen Travis to open doors for her, and to find a missing friend. And Stephen was a journalist, looking for information about the mythic warriors.
Mythic, because so far, everyone had denied ever hearing of them in modern times. Which didn't surprise the young woman now trailing behind the journalist. There were times on this journey when she felt like she was the guide, and Stephen the innocent. Not that she ever told him that. She did, however, warn him about making his interest in the Med-jai known. That could be dangerous. Stephen, as ever, ignored her.
Well, it was on his head ... her own, too, if you wanted to be truthful. Adriana immediately wished she could take her thoughts back when Stephen stopped dead in his tracks and a deep, menacing voice asked, "What do you want of the Med-jai?" She peeked around her companion to see a very tall, very dark man, dressed in crimson robes. A good look at his face wasn't possible, but her instinct told her this was a very, very nasty man.
She had been taught to trust her instincts ... honed by years of dealing with her father. And for a moment, Adriana wished Vin was here ... but he wasn't. Then she damned herself for thinking about him, when she might never see him again. Stephen stammered, "I wish to know the truth, of course."
A deep rumble signaled the man's laughter, as he replied mockingly, "The truth? What do you care for the truth, little man? The truth that the Med-jai are nothing more than women, soft and incompetent? The truth that they are not true warriors, that they are led by one who is barely more than a boy?" Oh, now this was interesting. This was the first Adriana heard of the Med-jai leader. And why would a boy be leading an ancient sect of warriors?
"I wish to know what secrets they hold ... people should know about what they're being protected from, who is protecting them from these secrets," Stephen answered unsteadily. The man laughed again, and Stephen continued in a stronger voice, "I have heard of the hom-dai, and the Undead in the sands of Hamunaptra. I want to go there. I want to see for myself." That had the effect of cold water splashed over her. Hom-dai? Hamunaptra?
Adriana frantically searched her memory. Hamunaptra was a myth, she thought ... the legendary City of the Dead, where the wealth of the ages was kept. And hom-dai ... she had encountered that story somewhere. The living death, for lack of a better word, and if the victim of the hom-dai ever arose ... all heck would break loose. Kinda like now. The mysterious man just laughed again and replied, "Little man, for what you seek, the Med-jai would kill you. Soft as they are. Perhaps I should spare them the trouble. You are not even worth a Med-jai blade."
Adriana moved forward, to take Stephen's hand, to tell him they had to get out of here. Now. But Stephen surprised her ... he half-turned and shoved her as hard as he could, blurting out, "Adriana, run! Ru ... aghhhhhhh!" Adriana stumbled back into the wall, flinching as the man withdrew a curved sword. . was that a scimitar? He made one thrust with that sword, and one was all it took. The tip of the sword was visible in the moonlight, and it was coming from Stephen's back. But how was that possible?
He had been run through. This crimsom-garbed man had run Stephen through. Adriana struggled to make sense of it, shaking her head desperately. Think, girl, think! The man removed his blade from Stephen's body, allowing the American journalist to fall limply to the ground. Adriana willed her legs to move. They weren't obeying, and the man's eyes fell on her. If his smile had been menacing earlier, it was downright evil now.
"What is this? The little man left me a little gift for my enjoyment," he almost purred, moving closer as Adriana tried to shift away, anywhere which would allow her to run like hell. The man continued, "Or, I could just kill you now. Be done with it ... as small as you are, you would not last long ... and would provide me with scarce entertainment. Yes ... yes. If I entertain myself with you, you might survive ... and I cannot allow that."
"Leave ... her ... be."
They were only three words, but they stopped Stephen's murderer in his tracks. Adriana jerked her head around, trying to find her rescuer. She didn't have far to look. He stepped from the shadows, and she could see why she hadn't seen him before. He was clad entirely in black. Black robes, black trousers. His raven hair was uncovered. And it was clear her would-be attacker loathed him. It was clear in his voice as he spat, "Ardeth Bey."
Adriana looked to her rescuer, who inclined his head and answered, "Lock-Nah." He gently pushed Adriana against the wall, stepping carefully over Stephen's dead body at the same time. There was no more conversation. The man who had killed Stephen, Lock-Nah, gave a blood-curdling war cry and charged. Steel met steel, with much more even odds than Stephen Travis had been given.
Because Lock-Nah's opponent was skilled with his blade and his fists. It was like watching a ballet, a lethal ballet. Adriana could almost enjoy the beauty of the movements, were it not for the dead man lying at her feet, as well as the very real fear that the same fate would befall her rescuer and herself. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she should be sorry that Stephen was dead, and she was ... but it wasn't over yet.
She should be doing something ... anything ... to help her rescuer. They had all taught her to defend herself. Buck and Chris ... later, Vin had taught her as well. But fear kept her legs frozen, even as a voice chanted in the back of her mind, 'there's nothing you can do ... stay still or you'll get him killed.' Numbly, Adriana recognized the sense in this. If she stayed where she was, the murderer couldn't use her as a shield. If she interfered, she could well get her protector killed. And then, she would be dead as well. But that didn't stop the guilt from creeping in, the guilt about being utterly useless.
The American was a fool ... but he didn't deserve to die. Ardeth Bey had heard nothing that would convince him that the American was looking to raise the Creature, or steal the gold from the City of the Dead. Nor had he heard anything to convince him that the girl wanted either. In fact, from the conversation he heard at the book seller's, it seemed like the girl was trying to persuade him to forget about the Med-jai and focus on something else.
What was it she said? That too close a look was sometimes dangerous. She had muttered it in German, and Ardeth's German was rusty. He had learned several languages from his father and Uncle Terrence's friend, Josiah Sanchez, including German. A faint, humorless smile touched the corners of Ardeth's mouth. Thanks to his father, his uncle, and Josiah, Ardeth was versed in four languages ... English, Ancient Egyptian, Arabic and German.
It was his rusty knowledge of German which originally drew his attention to the pair. He overheard the girl muttering under her breath about leaving things buried, and then heard the man asking about the Med-jai. Ardeth followed them from the book seller's ... originally to get answers from the man. Then Lock-Nah appeared. Ardeth grimaced. Sooner or later, he would have to do something about that one. But not tonight. Enough blood had been shed for one night. If Ardeth had been alone, he would have finished it. But he had a man to bury, and a young girl to lead to safety.
As Lock-Nah made his way down the street, Ardeth said softly, "It will never be over, 'til one of us is dead." He looked at the dead man, then at the girl, still pressed against the wall. He sheathed his sword and approached her slowly, asking, "Are you all right, little one?" It was his hope that the 'little one' would anger her, and she would focus on her anger, rather than the tremors still racking her small body.
"I ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry," the girl whispered, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Ardeth frowned, looking around carefully once more to make sure she and the dead man hadn't led him into a trap. There was no one else around, and his instincts weren't screaming at him. He looked back at the girl, and she repeated, stammering, "I ... I'm so sorry. So sorry. I didn't help you." Ardeth shook his head, tensing as two more figures detached themselves from the shadows. Only to reveal themselves as his men.
They wanted to go after Lock-Nah, but that was Ardeth's responsibility, not theirs. Instead, the two men would take the American, while Ardeth looked after the girl. He told her quietly, "You did help. You did not interfere. What is your name, little one?" Ardeth had learned from the conversation in the book seller's that she didn't get along with her companion. Ardeth had, in fact, suppressed a smile as she rolled her eyes each time he treated her as a child.
"It ... it's Adriana. Adriana Wilmington. He ... his name ... his name was Stephen Travis," she answered, her voice cracking at the end. She looked at the dead man, then at Ardeth as fresh tremor shook her small frame. Ardeth shook his head and removed his cloak, wrapping it around her. She stumbled along at his side, before stopping and looking at him. Her eyes narrowed, as she murmured, "Ardeth Bey. That's what he called you."
"It is my name," Ardeth answered simply. He was surprised she remembered that. She seemed to be in shock, though he shouldn't be surprised at that. He highly doubted if she saw someone murdered in front of her every day. The girl nodded, then started to walk once more, not entirely steadily. She reminded Ardeth a bit painfully of himself after Winston Havlock's plane crashed in the sand.
"Your name is Ardeth Bey ... and his is Lock-Nah," she stated, and Ardeth nodded gravely. There was another long silence, then the girl said, "You must think I'm a total ninny." Fortunately, Ardeth's exposure to the English language included exposure to its slang as well (though certain members of his family hadn't been impressed when he swore at them rather colorfully in English), and he knew exactly what the girl was saying.
"I think nothing of the sort, Ms. Wilmington," he told her. They had reached the safety of the museum now, where the Med-jai continued their silent work. In the light provided, he saw she was older than he originally assumed, though she was still much younger than his own thirty years. Perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three years of age. Older than he was when his father died. And she was tiny.
But he read a determination in the dark eyes which stared back at him. It was likely that determination which kept her from completely going into shock.
He was totally unprepared for what she said next. In a musing voice, she said softly, "You remind me of someone, in the States. Several someones, actually. My two brothers and ... a friend." Her voice caught on the last word. Ardeth looked at her intently. She continued as the two Med-jai carried the body of her companion to a place Ardeth preferred not to think about, "You're tall like my brother, dress in black like my other brother, and you ... you ... my friend ... that's exactly what he would have said."
"Something happened to this friend," Ardeth said. It was a statement of fact. Once more, he looked past the girl, to the room where Stephen Travis now lay. His Med-jai would prepare the American's body for transport back to his home, to his people. The girl nodded, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular, and Ardeth asked, "Can you tell me?" He immediately questioned why he was asking such things, when it was none of his concern. Not his responsibility; he had enough of those.
But it was too late to take back his question. She replied, "Yes. He ... disappeared. A year ago. That's part of the reason I'm in Egypt. He came here to rescue an old friend, Jess Kincaid. But Kincaid's body was shipped back to the States not long after Vin left Texas, and no one could contact him. Since Stephen and I were here, I thought I could try to look for Vin while I was laying the groundwork for my own career as an Egyptologist. You're familiar with the term, kill two birds with one stone?"
He was. The name Jess Kincaid was unfamiliar to him, but that meant little. He spent little time in Cairo, except when he had business here. As he did now. Business which had been pushed aside while he was following this girl and her foolish companion. He said very quietly, "I must leave you, but one of my men will guard you. Make sure no further harms comes to you. I will return once my business here is complete."
The girl nodded and her hand emerged from his cloak. She said softly, "I know it's already done, but I wanted to do this officially. My name is Adriana Wilmington. Thank you for saving my life." Ardeth shook her hand, then raised it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. She grinned suddenly. The false calm had come over her. Ardeth looked at his man, waiting in the shadows beside the girl. After he left, it would hit her then. The horror of what she had seen tonight. She had seen a man die; and while she had not taken that life, it would still be difficult.
No, Ardeth Bey's work with this girl was not yet done. He still had to find out what she knew about Hamunaptra and about the Med-jai. He had his obligations to fulfill. And the fact that he would be looking out for her at the same time troubled him not at all. She was a young American woman, now alone in a strange city. It was only right. Ardeth had been unable to prevent the Creature from arising, but he could protect this girl as long as she was here. He only hoped that her friend Vin was still alive and in country. If he was, then he could escort her home.
However, Ardeth's instincts were telling him that his new responsibility wouldn't be shirked so easily. No matter. Even when he failed, he didn't back away from his obligations. He was determined not to fail this time.
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