Title:  Passion - Chapter Twelve – Where Your Innocence Dies

Rating:  PG13 for now
Author: Angela - jedinineofnine@hotmail.com - http://oocities.com/saturnfiction
Summary:  Something’s bothering Ardeth. Of course it’s never as simple as that.
Disclaimer:  No infringement intended.  I own Asenath, Drake, Samira, Mahmud, Abdu, Omar and Ali.
Prequel (which should be read to get this):  http://fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=654922&chapter=1
Codes:  Ardeth/Ancksunamun, Imhotep/Evy

*

“Abdu, leave the weapon where it is,” Ardeth said gravely, watching Abdu pace the cold lower chamber of the Temple of Set. The youth’s feet scraped against the dusty stone beneath them and echoed. He was still very volatile and under the circumstances one needed to keep a cool head.

But there was no reaching him right now. Lashami’s death was wrapped around the soul of Abdu, threatening to destroy him. He stopped in front of the discarded scimitar, his expression dark. “So we should sit and do nothing, Ardeth?”

Ardeth narrowed his brow, frustrated on top of his worry. The moments passed slowly and each grew more intense as the boy struggled with the pressures within. He was going to have to let go of his pent up energy somehow and it looked more and more like they would argue despite Ardeth’s attempts to talk Abdu out of his agitation. “She let us free with a weapon in the room, Abdu. There is a reason for that, make no mistake. The moment one of us uses it she will have gotten what she wants.”

Abdu began pacing again, turning his head with the flow of his moments to glare at Ardeth. The older looked down, knowing anything he might say could escalate the growing problem. Abdu stopped again and grunted. “How many times have I seen that sad expression after battle? How many times have I thought you must have such a good heart, to be affected by death and tragedy?” He kicked at the floor and began pacing again. “I think you’re afraid of me. You do not want me to have it, thinking I would do you harm because of my anger.”

At that Ardeth looked up, wishing he could somehow take this boy’s pain away. He could have stopped it if he had given Ancksunamun what she wanted, but he wasn’t perfect. He didn’t always have the right answer. Abdu shook his head. “You have changed, Ardeth, if you fear that. I am angry with you, but I do possess a measure of self-control. I would never kill you in cold blood. But perhaps you are used to thinking in such ways.” Ardeth said nothing and Abdu took the initiative that had been building. He brushed aside his elder’s concerns and took the scimitar into his hand. “Her foolishness will end her life.”

It was time to confront him. If Ardeth could distract him, direct his anger towards him enough, perhaps it would keep him from attacking the priestess. “I have changed, my friend, but I fight the same evil you fight. Yes, I had compassion for her and yes it blinded me, but that doesn’t mean either of us should turn away from using that emotion again. It is who we are.”

It was working. The boy’s anger flared, but he still held the sword. “Who do you think the Med-Jai are, Ardeth?” he spat back with hard eyes. “We are not some priestly order dedicated to the betterment of mankind! We are here to protect the world from monsters like that creature you consort with, but it is not in the Med-Jai code to bandage scraped knees and give madwomen rule over innocent lives for the sake that she might what? Apologize?”

Ardeth rubbed his arm and looked down, not certain what to say. Abdu was right. His morals weren’t Med-Jai standard. They were passed down from his father, taught to him as a private Bay family code. He had never questioned it before. “I made a mistake,” he told Abdu, feeling like all his faith in the things he knew were right was being stolen from him. In that he was like Imhotep, he realized.

“A mistake,” Abdu repeated scornfully, with more words on his tongue. But before he could say them the stone slabs on up the stairs were rolled back into the wall. Ancksunamun was back. Both men turned towards the stairs.

They heard Ancksunamun’s footsteps falter and they waited, both unwilling to help her if she were injured. Bay almost expected her to stagger down the stairs into his arms, but that did not happen.

She stopped somewhere halfway and at first it seemed as if she fell. A form tumbled down the stairs and spilled onto the floor before then, a form much like their captors with long, dark hair and robes. But the hair was curly and the face older. The priestess returned back upstairs, locking them in again.

Suddenly the scimitar Abdu had been holding hit the floor, but Ardeth could make no move to pick it up. He stared intently at the pained face, hoping beyond hope she wasn’t dead. “Mother,” Abdu whimpered, dropping down beside the prone woman and cradling her to him. The youth began looking for a wound, a reason his mother would not awaken. His hand found a hole in her stomach that she could not have survived. The same wound that would have killed Evy had Imhotep not intervened.

Ardeth frantically searched for something he could say but words failed him. He couldn’t even think of words of hate to curse Ancksunamun with. Abdu rocked with the body of his mother, his grief renewed and doubled. “Mother,” he repeated again, touching her face. They stayed that way for long moments.

Ardeth thought about the woman before him, remembering a time when Abdu had run off with a couple of the older warriors. She had been so worried that something would happen to her inexperienced son that Bay had offered to follow and watch after the boy, and had been thanked with freshly made bread later that night. Now she would never worry again.

When Abdu finally did raise his head, Ardeth saw empty minded rage in him—quiet and brought to its boiling point and directed at him. The youth rested his mother against the floor and reached for the scimitar, hissing through clenched teeth, “For the sake of that western whore’s bastard child my mother lays dead! What is she to you?” The sound of the blade sliding along the concrete prompted Ardeth to back away.

The younger Med-Jai got to his feet and advanced on him with firm intent. There would be no talking this through. Abdu was too upset. “Some compassion, Ardeth,” he growled, raising the scimitar. “Your pride is killing everyone and still you will not humble yourself to her. Perhaps if I take her plaything away she will move on.”

“Abdu,” Ardeth breathed, narrowly escaping a slash. He backed around the sarcophagus of Set, keenly watching the boy.

The youth wouldn’t answer when Ardeth repeated his name, except to thrust the scimitar at his former friend once more. The older Med-Jai jumped away, but Abdu’s quick hand brought the sword to his other side almost instantly. The blade cut into Ardeth’s arm, winning a gasp of pain.

“Where is your control?” he asked, dodging another blow and kicking the scimitar from Abdu’s hand. It hit the floor with a clang.

The younger wiggled his aching fingers, then threw himself into Bay, slamming him into the wall. Ardeth groaned and tried to refrain himself, but he knew it would be impossible short of death. Abdu balled his fist and threw a punch into his elder’s face. “My control died with them!”

One more hit to the jaw caused Ardeth to fight back. Abdu was going to have to be knocked out, if he could help it. He looked for a window of opportunity. Abdu was blinded with anger and that was Ardeth’s chief advantage. He entered the open and lured the boy closer. When Abdu jumped to attack again,A Ardeth caught him and yanked him towards the wall.

Anger also provided strength, however, and as Ardeth tried to push him into the wall, Abdu caught him off balance and tripped him. The older collapsed to the floor and got the wind knocked out of him. Abdu was on him before he could recover, pouring his rage into punching the Med-Jai beneath him. Ardeth groaned and raised his hands to block the blows as best he could.

“You weak bastard,” Abdu reviled him through a shaking voice. Bay felt tears splash against his hands and each one went straight to the heart. Instead of fighting he decided another approach. He opened his arms to embrace the younger Med-Jai, praying he could let his grief out and stop this madness. But Abdu wouldn’t allow it. Slapping those caring arms away, he hissed, “Don’t touch me!” Now unable to stop his emotions from surfacing, he climbed off his target and wiped at his wetting cheeks. Ardeth sat up and waited anxiously.

The youth took in a shuddering breath and again looked down at his mother, whispering, “She would be so ashamed of me right now. I can’t do this. I can’t let the priestess do this to me.” His eyes slid to the scimitar.

Ardeth held his breath, watching Abdu look at the weapon. He guessed the fight was over, but the weapon was even more dangerous now. Quietly and slowly he worked into a crouching position, but Abdu noticed and understood. They both went for the blade.

The elder grasped the scimitar and the boy yelled out angrily, still very willing to fight his friend for what he wanted. Ardeth backed away with it, holding it away from Abdu, and the boy followed like a predator with resolved eyes. He kicked out at Ardeth’s stomach and in pain, he slumped into a wall, lowering the scimitar momentarily. It was enough.

Ardeth gripped the scimitar tightly so Abdu couldn’t take it and started to raise it away again, but he was too slow and not strong enough in his current state. Abdu ripped his hand down and gripping his shoulder, forced the weapon forward. His eyes widened when he let go. “Abdu!” Bay gasped as the younger started to fall. He dropped the scimitar, but it didn’t hit the floor. Ardeth pulled Abdu into his arms and opened his robe, seeing where the blade protruded. Blood poured onto his hand.

The boy’s eyes rolled back and he went limp in Ardeth’s arms. The older Med-Jai lowered him to the floor and laid him out. He grasped Abdu’s robe, feeling emptiness again well up inside of him. Only this time it was far deeper than before. This young man had a future. He couldn’t be dead. “Abdu,” he whispered, shaking him gently. Abdu didn’t answer or even move. He was gone.

The silence of the room seemed somehow very loud to Ardeth’s ears as he sat there on his knees, looking down at the body of the other Med-Jai. Salty, stinging tears formed in his tired eyes, racing over the brim of his lids and down his cheeks. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. This loss hit him like a physical blow straight to the heart. The promise of Abdu’s future was gone and that fact washed over Ardeth like a hot flood. He felt very sick just now.

Slowly and defeatedly, the lone Med-Jai stood up, his every movement echoing through the dim chamber. The scimitar was still tantalizingly close, but he found no strength to follow the suggestion of his thoughts. Ardeth wrapped his arms around himself and turned his back on the dead boy on the floor. His body ached, his arm stung and his heart felt ravaged and torn.

But more painfully, he felt hope slip away, just beyond his reach.

*

Ancksunamun stood at the entrance to the Temple of Set, watching up through the cavern as sky became dark. She thought of the Med-Jai she had visited today, wearing the illusion of Lashami’s face. It had been quite easy to seek out Abdu’s mother and lure her into the desert alone. The Med-Jai were far too trusting of the world around them.

Not for the first time Ancksunamun wondered if she had gone too far. Abdu was angry with his hero, but was he angry enough to hurt him? And what if he grew too enthusiastic and killed him? This was a very dangerous game she played, but if worked right it could help her vastly in her designs. To have one of his own turn so far against him would be a powerful blow, not to mention watching Abdu become hers. The youth was very pliable and would turn far sooner than his elder.

The day completed its cycle into night and the priestess of Set breathed out, letting the calmness of the cool air soothe her tensions. It had been nearly one half of an hour since she had shown them some of the extent of her evil. Would one of them be dead by now? Ancksunamun decided it was time to find out.

Bending down, she removed her shoes and padded softly into the opening chamber. She set them down upon a fountain in the center of the room and looked around. The air seemed charged, pleased with her and some unseen consequence of what she had done. It made her curious to know what had happened below.

The stone doorway in the floor met her vision soon. Ancksunamun knelt down and took the amulet of Imhotep from her pocket to unlock it. She didn’t want to disturb whatever was happening, so she opened only one of the stone tablets—slowly. Then she descended on silent feet.

He was alone now, his back to the entrance and his shoulders shaking slightly. Ancksunamun paused there at the foot of the stairs and looked around. Abdu lay dead on one side of the room, run through with his own scimitar. Had Ardeth done this? The moment became dangerous, for he could very well attack her next. Yet she had to make her move now while he was still vulnerable.

She came quietly, watching him tremble as he grieved. Had she gone far enough? She rested her hand against his strong back and he didn’t pull away. Ancksunamun began rubbing. “Ardeth, face me,” she prompted gently, knowing any triumph or harshness would drive him against her. The game was at a critical and precarious stage right now.

Ardeth obeyed, turning to her with wide, wounded eyes that begged to know how she could do this. They were luminous and beautiful and hurt beyond measure. But there was no will for vengeance. Simply shock and the question. She had gone beyond far enough. His heart was broken. She stepped into him, pulling his warmth into her as she soothed him, not out of manipulation, but of a desire to calm the storm. He rested against her willingly and Ancksunamun gazed over his shoulder, but those dark eyes were burned into her vision and into her heart.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, seeking any source of comfort from this pain—even a bad one. She had won. He would be hers for whatever she would have him for.

Ancksunamun nuzzled against his neck and breathed in his warm scent, feeling almost intoxicated by the closeness they were sharing now. She moved her lips to his ear and whispered, “Do you want the pain to end, my love?” She expected him to shove her away at that point, but his strength of will failed him. Ancksunamun turned her face to his.

Ardeth nodded, looking into her eyes with another question written in his, but not spoken. A plea for mercy, that she would end this for him perhaps, or that she would simply leave him be. Now he truly knew he could not fight his way out of this.

Ancksunamun cradled her arm around his neck and took first his mouth, seeking hungrily to open and offering a way out of the despair. She wouldn’t let him go. She would never let him go.

He gave himself over to her advances easily. Tears came as he began to allow her to defeat him thoroughly. It was a small effort for her to push his arms down so she could get at his shirt. She kissed his neck, quickly undoing the black buttons, and moved down as more of his flesh was bared. He stood still as she parted the fabric and gazed up. Those eyes looked so lost.

She again went for those lips, hot and soft as she breathed her kiss into him, and he closed his eyes, slowly returning it. Ancksunamun smiled against his mouth and pulled the shirt down his well-muscled arms, stopping at the elbows to kiss him again. She brushed her fingers across his chest, exploring and enjoying him quite thoroughly, letting each touch burn within her as she kept him captive. Ardeth panted gratefully when she finally let go and allowed him to breathe.

Ancksunamun looked his upper body over, feeling her skin flush in want of it. She swallowed hard and pulled the shirt from him, letting it drop to the floor. He was scarred and bruised, but beautiful—gorgeous and hers. Red caught her vision. His arm was cut and bleeding. The priestess grabbed his wrist and turned his arm to view the damage. “You’re hurt, my Ardeth,” she said gently, wiping at the warm trails of blood leading down his bicep.

Ardeth bowed his head and looked down into her face, still seeking escape from the hurt inside. He brought his hand up, resting it over hers and breathed, “It’s all right. I’m all right.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“I’m so sorry,” Ancksunamun told him, meaning it. She was sorry for the anguish he felt, but what had to be done, had to be. He would be rewarded greatly for long nights to come for his suffering. He was destroyed and she would make him new. The priestess trailed his shoulder with her mouth, savoring the taste of his skin as she resumed taking him.

He was tense, but soft, his body hot to her increasingly insistent touch. “Let me love you,” she whispered, unable to get enough of his searing mouth and shoulders. She loved touching him, loved the constant contact. She loved feeling him give in to his own desire.

Ardeth furrowed his brow, groaning lightly into her lips as she brushed her fingers down his strong stomach and over the rim of the black pants he wore. Ancksunamun rubbed her cheek against his, resting her head and trembling at the sounds of his now ragged breathing as she undid the last button and unzipped them. Her hand opened the clothing and snaked inside, seeking the flesh of his hip. He shivered and took a tentative step back, but she stopped him, wrapping her free arm around his waist, effortlessly caging his vulnerability to her desire.

“You’re afraid to do this,” she observed, rubbing his hip and side delicately, enjoying the feel of his velvety skin. Ardeth looked away from her and glanced at the body of Abdu. She watched the grief resurface and her hold tightened. “Look at me, Ardeth,” she commanded and he hesitantly obeyed. “You’re in pain. Let go. Let me love you.”

Ancksunamun inhaled deeply when he looked her up and down, then touched his fingers to her chin. The Med-Jai weighed it in his mind, and then made his final choice. Tilting her face up, he leaned into her, wrapping his strong arms around her body and taking her mouth to his. She let herself whimper at the ardent need in that kiss. It reminded her of a time long ago.

Ardeth pulled her down with him, settling on his knees and then yanking her back into his arms as his hands demanded peace from her body and lips. Her throat was immediately assaulted with a hot intent to mark. Ancksunamun ran her fingers through his long hair, closing her eyes and burning each and every husky whisper into her memory. He was letting himself get lost in this intimacy, letting himself enjoy each taste, scent and sensation she gave. The beauty of his surrender made her smile over his shoulder.

“Ardeth,” she whispered urgently, letting herself get lost in him as he pushed her back to the floor. When he pulled open the Med-Jai robe she wore and warmed himself inside it, she knew she owned him.

*

Lula – Hehehe..well, I thought Immy should be retaining some of his old world charm. ;) You want more Ardeth? Here it is. :O I know I put him through so much…oye. Anyway, thanks for the read and review!

Deana - ;D Funny, eh? I was serious! ;) Anyway, thanks for reading before and letting me know what you think. And thanks for the reviews!

Marcher – I’m glad I keep you guessing! I try to throw in those plot twists and heart wrenching whammys and so on. ;) Thanks…I’m glad you’re enjoying this! Ardeth is quite over his head…hope he makes it out alive. ;)

Everyone else, hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stick around for more! :D Thanks -Angela