Mysterious Cairo

by Edited By Ed Stark

  The Dreams of Midnight

  Bill Smith

  Darkness. Dank. Foul smelling.

  Sound. Ba-dum! Ba-dum! The beat of a drum, rhythmic and steady; an echo coursing through his mind. Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Overwhelming, yet untraceable.

  Where is it coming from? Why won't it stop? Got to move away, put my hands over my ears! Allah, stop it!

  Akh-Mal tried to move his hands, but nothing happened. Heavy as rock, no sensation. Numb, restrained.

  The darkness. Can't move.

  Feeling suffocated. He knew he should be able to move, but somehow his body didn't respond.

  The beating, louder! Inside my head! Can't panic — there's got to be something. Help! Help me! I can't even scream! I'm going to die, alone, in the dark.

  The darkness was suddenly, blindingly pierced, as pure white light overwhelmed his senses. Hands plying his face, forcing his eyes open. He tried to close his eyes, or twist his head or scream or anything, but to no avail. He seemed dead. His face was clay, to be molded regardless of his will.

  Why won't this end?

  As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw five human figures outlined. The closest one, the one forcing the contortions of his face, was clearly female. The woman had thin and graceful, but very cold, hands. Then, as she neared his form and he felt her breath, the recognition came like a hammer to the head.

  Khari! Dear wife, let me go! Why am I here? Have I died?

  The woman stopped, her hard and chiseled features softening for a second. She looked like she was going to smile, but the expression quickly became a cruel, hideous laugh. "Yes, my 'dear' Akh-Mal, you are dead. You died long ago, but didn't have the good sense to stop breathing."

  More laughter, loud and piercing. Other voices laughing as well — the other figures were visibly shaking with the intensity of their laughter. Slowly, each figure approached the terrified man, and set down a basket of goods before him.

  First, his son Assab. Young and full of life, the boy merely sneered at his father.

  Next, Mersah, his lover. She was so beautiful, with long dark hair. She had never looked so ravishing—and cruel. The young woman simply nodded to Khari, made a curt bow and placed the basket at his feet.

  Next was that swine Nehrav, his incompetent and jealous boss at the university. He didn't even look at Akh-Mal.

  The final figure Akh-Mal couldn't identify. A tall man of muscular build. He had no basket with him, and simply strode over the baskets, toward Akh-Mal. The man outstretched a hand toward Akh-Mal, as Khari stepped aside and back toward the row of baskets.

  Then, the man finally stepped into the light. It was no man, but Anubis, the jackal-headed god. Akh-Mal knew that he was dead, for Anubis was only present for ceremonies for the dead. He wondered how he would be judged, how Anubis would decree.

  Will there be mercy?

  Silently Anubis approached Akh-Mal. His outstretched hand reached to Akh-Mal's lowered jaw, firmly grasping his chin. With a simple motion, Anubis closed the mouth. A deep monotone voice simply proclaimed, "You will not be remembered." NO!!!!!!

  Before he even was aware of his actions, Akh-Mal was staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on the small idol of the Pharaoh Ramses that sat on his dresser. He was sitting straight up in bed, hands outstretched in front of him.

  Thank Allah! It was just a dream!

  He felt like a child again, and remembered those dreams.

  They used to close in on me like demons. Just a feeling, and I'd wake up screaming. Momma always used to say it was just a dream, nothing would hurt me. She was right. But these dreams are so real. A grown man, and I'm afraid of going to sleep at night .

  A cool breeze wafted into the room as moonlight struggled to get past the blinds. Night used to be such a time of relaxation and mystery for the beleaguered mathematician, but no more. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand

  Three in the morning! I'll be as if risen from the dead tomorrow!

  Drenched in sweat, sheets soaked, he tried to relax. He felt a cool breeze drifting in through the blinds, and could see thin beams of moonlight. The breeze would be soothing to most, but Akh-Mal felt chilled to the bone. His pulse gradually slowed, and he could no longer hear his heart beating. He adjusted his pillow, sat back on the bed and tried to forget the dream. The dream. Just like the night before and the night before that. He needed to forget. He wanted just to be held, to be reassured; he was waiting for something to give him release.

  He looked over at the silently sleeping form, his wife Khari. He remembered once, it seemed so long ago, when it was a thrill just to be near her. He lightly traced his fingers over the her hips and along her back, all the while contemplating waking her. It was such a chore to deal with her now, but he still needed some comfort and he didn't dare call on Mersah at this time of night. Several minutes later he relented, and softly touched his wife on the shoulder, hoping for a moment of comfort. The sleeping woman stirred, apathetically trying to bat away his hand.

  Sleepily she muttered, "What is it, Akh-Mal? What has happened? I need my sleep ... what time is it?"

  "Oh, Khari, it was the dream again. The third night in a row."

  "And it passed again. Go back to sleep. We can talk about it in the morning."

  And, as if that was all that could, and should, be said, she pulled the cover sheet tighter and tried to forget the panic-stricken man in bed next to her. Things had changed so much over the past few years, and she knew that while she loved him, it was harder and harder to care about his peculiarities. Silently she drifted from consciousness.

  That is all I am to her now. 'We can talk about it in the morning.' I should just — I don't know what I should do.

  Consumed by his own self-pity and fear, Akh-Mal spent the next half hour trying to return to sleep, but with no luck. Quietly he fumbled his way to his study downstairs. He stumbled to his desk and turned on the reading lamp. Not knowing what he intended to do, his eyes darted from volume to volume.

  Work. This is something I can relate to! Magic, history. Mysteries to be solved, equations to be worked out. No deceptions, but only unknowns.

  He picked up the necklace. The mystery of the device intrigued Akh-Mal — this was the kind of challenge he enjoyed most. It belonged to a young English girl named Angela. Her family was vacationing in Alexandria, when her parents were killed in a horrible auto accident. Angela was the only survivor. The necklace and a photo of her mother seemed to be the only things the girl cared about. After much coaxing, the girl relinquished the jewelry to Akh-Mal, but she refused to part with the photo.

  The mystery came about while the girl was in the hospital. The doctors reported something "odd" about her, and they contacted the University. Angela was brought there for study, and the situation was truly unusual. Akh-Mal quickly learned that the girl radiated a kind of "magical aura," yet exhibited no magical skills and had no magical training that she would speak of. It seemed almost a part of her being rather than a skill. However, even the necklace seemed to be infused with magic.

  Despite several days of study, Akh-Mal was still unsure of the girl's nature. At this point, he could only surmise that the trauma of the event triggered some kind of unconscious reaction and seeing her parents die before her was enough to trigger the ability.

  It was only a theory, but it was the best anyone seemed to be capable of at this point.

  Morning eventually arrived in the Kabeel household. Akh-Mal was slowly sipping tea when his wife first entered the kitchen.

  "Your clothes are laid out on the bed. Did you sleep any better on the couch? I noticed you left."

  "No, I couldn't sleep. It was all too real. I did some work."

  "Well, that doesn't surprise me. All you seem to have these days is work. All of those long hours. You never see me or the boy anymore — did you know that he's been offered a scholarship in Luxor? They think he'll make an excellent engineer, and someday he'll build tanks and fighters for the Pharaoh's forces. Someda
y his designs will help our soldiers turn the desert and jungles red with the blood of those who oppose the Pharaoh's will! He will be a hero, and we will be honored by our neighbors!

  "But, no, you wouldn't know about that. All you have now is your work . and those dreams! And now it's driving you crazy, and it's destroying our family! I hope you're proud of yourself."

  Akh-Mal didn't know whether to strike her or leave. Never had a woman dared to speak to him so! His hand carelessly crushed the handle of his tea cup and he didn't even feel the ceramic edges cutting into the soft skin of his hand.

  "Be silent woman! What would you have me do if I were here? We would sit in silence because there is nothing to be said! I should cut your tongue out!"

  Just as the mathematician's outburst ended, young Assab walked in. Already dressed for school, he simply took his seat at the table, ignoring his parents' dispute.

  Akh-Mal's rage dimmed at the sight of the young lad. Assab had made his father proud many times, both as a scholar and an athlete. He was destined for greatness, and the news of his son's scholarship was welcome news even if delivered in a venomous indictment.

  "Your mother was just telling me of your scholarship. Congratulations!"

  "Thank you, father. I wish I could have told you myself."

  "Say it, Assab: 'but you weren't here.'" Khari was determined to drag the boy into an argument that was none of his business.

  Rather than respond, Assab tried to disguise a pained grimace, but the intent was clear enough. Akh-Mal knew that his wife's words were true. His son seemed so distant now. He remembered when they used to be very close, but now, Akh-Mal felt more like an unwelcome visitor than a father and husband.

  "Well, my work requires much study. I'll be out late again tonight. I must get ready for work."

  The ancient building once held some of the most ancient volumes in the Arab world. Now it held research labs dedicated to one of the newest arts on Earth, that of Nile mathematics.

  One of the oldest buildings owned by Cairo University, it was an historical monument of a sort. Supposedly the founders of the university first met on the site of this building. They envisioned an educational institution that would guide the Egyptian people to greatness. Under the guiding hand of the Pharaoh Mobius, they had wildly underestimated how great the fortunes of Egypt would be.

  The odd architecture of the long, low structure attracted the attention of visitors and new students alike. Inside, its high, arched ceilings, with windows nearly fifteen feet above ground level, created an air of mystery and the unknown. It was only natural that the university decided to place the new mathematics department here.

  With the start of the Possibility Wars, the Pharaoh's realm brought new potential to the land — magic and weird science. Things worked differently, and to Akh-Mal, the most fascinating field was that of mathematics. Akh-Mal had received his training in archaeology, and he was both proud and curious regarding his Egyptian ancestors. After the invasion though, he found the manipulation of these strange new energies easy. Through the logic and diversity of numbers, and his knowledge of the ancient rituals, he learned how to summon powerful forces far beyond even his own understanding. At times he felt like he was communing with the gods!

  Akh-Mal's attention this morning was split between Angela and her mysterious necklace. A pile of musty tomes was piled high on his desk, with dozens of papyrus scrolls scattered about. He had a notebook and several mystic devices laid out in front of him. The necklace was right next to his notebook.

  His research lab was quiet now that his assistants had stepped out for a brief break. Sometimes he found it so hard to concentrate with the commotion the two young men created.

  On the far side of the room was a makeshift play room. There were several book shelves crammed with children's books, as well as several simple dolls and other toys. Angela sat in the corner, ignoring all of the things around her. Her attention was focused on the tattered and ripped black and white photo of her mother.

  The girl truly puzzled Akh-Mal. His detection spells revealed that she held huge amounts of magical energy, yet she seemed totally unaware of this. She seemed to have no knowledge of magic rites, no spells or rituals, even expressed no interest when the subject was brought up. However, her energy levels were so high she could become a sorcerer of amazing power, capable of mastering even the most intricate spells with study. Akh-Mal's job was much easier for he only had to discover the source of her energies. Nile magic never seemed so easy and so readily available, yet this girl was an enigma. Someday she might even be returned home, but for now she was his responsibility.

  The girl giggled for a second. Akh-Mal thought now might be a good time to see if he could learn anything. "Good morning, Angela. How are you doing today?"

  The blond head quickly perked up at the sound of the mathematician's voice. The girl was very pretty, with sparkling blue eyes and a mirthful smile. Akh-Mal hadn't seen that smile much in the past two weeks, but this morning Angela seemed in much better spirits. "I'm doing good. When am I going to go home?"

  Akh-Mal quickly strode over to the girl and patted her on the head. "We're going to send you home soon. There are still some things that we're trying to figure out ... from the accident."

  "That's okay. I just want to go home to Mommy and Daddy."

  This comment greatly disturbed the mathematician. The girl seemed incapable of accepting the truth. He leaned down and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Angela, I've told you before, your parents are dead. They died in the accident. I'm sorry you miss them, but that's what has happened."

  The girl's eyes widened in fear. She somehow pulled from his grasp, tears welling in her eyes. "They're not dead! I know they're not! Someday I'll be with them — someday soon." The girl turned away, but Akh-Mal could tell that she again pulled out that ragged picture of her mother; he heard soft sobbing.

  Akh-Mal had nothing else he could say. He turned and walked back to his desk.

  By late afternoon, Akh-Mal's lab assistants had completed their tasks for the day and departed. Angela had been taken to her room across the campus. He hoped the nannies would do better with her than he had. She had sobbed all day.

  His attendants had recorded another violent outburst earlier in the day. He was perusing their comments. Today's tantrum involved ripping the heads off her dolls and screaming something about "everyone dying." Sometimes the girl would go into a rage, seemingly with no prompting. Other times she seemed withdrawn, almost catatonic. The child definitely couldn't distinguish reality from what she wanted to be real. Thankfully she had been escorted back to the Children's Center a little while ago.

  As the sunlight coming through the opened windows dimmed, the fatigue of the day, and the night before, finally caught up with him. He slid his books aside for a moment, and just closed his eyes. He heard the door creak, and from the heavy foot steps he knew it was Nehrav. Akh-Mal didn't even look up.

  "So, what did you accomplish today, hm? Anything? Is that simple little girl still a puzzle?"

  Akh-Mal wanted desperately to lash out at the lazy, corpulent man. He didn't dare.

  "I don't know what to do. She defies all of the theories, all of the practices. There is no correlation between her ability and how we understand magic to operate. The nature of her magic is in some ways similar to Aysle, in that it seems inherent, but she has no demonstrable talent—no skills, no arcane knowledge. She's also very unbalanced, and she needs therapy. We should make sure she's happy before we try to figure out this strange magic. The girl is potentially very dangerous."

  "Hm ... that is curious. You look tired; go home to your wife and get some rest."

  Akh-Mal looked up for a second with a pained look on his face. "Rest is what I need most, but I've been having these horrible dreams lately."

  "Well, my friend, you had better learn to get over them. You've already spent two weeks with this child with no sign of success. I don't care about her
emotional problems, and neither does the University. She's too powerful to wait until she's happy. The University and the Lesser Dean are impatient. I can't protect you from them forever. It is time for results."

  Nehrav turned and strode out of the room. The door echoed as it clanged shut.

  "So, your true colors show, Nehrav. 'Protect' me ... by all that's holy, I'm sure you've been doing your best to undermine my work, you jealous beast."

  Akh-Mal pulled out his case and pulled out the books he needed to bring home. Frustration overwhelmed him. He then heard the knock on the door. Oh, now he is coming to add salt to the wound.

  "Come in."

  He turned his back to the door and continued packing his bags. Then he heard the soft, comforting voice of his lover Mersah. "Akh-Mal, hello. I had to come and see you."

  He whirled, half angry, half excited. "I've told you before, you cannot be seen here. If people found out that I was being unfaithful ."

  The young woman smiled, melting away Akh-Mal's reserve. Her beauty entranced the hapless man — her perfect brown eyes, perfect red and full lips, perfect face, perfect body. He felt like a school boy when he was around her.

  "Akh-Mal, you sound like such a child. No one will notice me here ."

  Akh-Mal couldn't contain himself, and rushed over to embrace her. A lingering kiss stopped the young woman's explanation.

  "I've needed you, too, Mersah. Those dreams I've been having; I had it last night as well. I didn't get any sleep. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to die. Those dreams have gotten the best of me."

  "Oh, nonsense. Would I be seeing someone who was destined to die? Hush! The reason why I came is because you have a date tomorrow night. A huge party on the northern side of the city. You can be my escort!"

  Akh-Mal was worried, and much as he loved the woman, sometimes he seriously doubted her judgement. "Mersah, we cannot be seen together. What if people begin to talk?"

  Mersah smiled again, and simply put her fingers across his lips to silence him. "Be quiet. No one will know who you are. This is a different crowd. They're exciting! They're fun to be around! You'll have a good time."