Mirage

by Monica Burns

  Even the balustrade of the patio was visible in spots against the rock and sand. Underneath her feet were giant slabs of stone. On one slab, directly inside the room’s doorway, there were numerous hieroglyphs. As she knelt on the floor, Zada scurried over to her and sniffed at her hand. Absently, she petted the mongoose, then pulled out her brush and dusted away the light layer of sand covering the symbols. Her finger traced the edges of the hieroglyphs as she read the inscription.

  “Let those who enter the chamber of Pharaoh serve their God with humility.” Stunned, she sank back onto her heels. “Pharaoh’s chamber.”

  Her words whispered through the darkness surrounding her. Was she in Ramesses’ bedchamber or his throne room? Holding her lantern high, she studied the room and its entrances. Aside from the wide doorway she’d passed through and the terrace, there was only one other doorway.

  It was Ramesses’ bedchamber. She knew it. Her stomach gave a fierce lurch. Excitement, that’s what it was. Excitement. Closing her eyes, she ordered her body to grow still, but the churning only grew worse. She was going to throw up. Oh, Lord, not here, not on the markings.

  A corner, she needed to find a corner.

  She scurried toward the nearest recess and gagged. Bile rose in her throat and she wretched violently. When she’d finished, she rinsed her mouth out and took a small sip of her water. What if she’d picked up a virus from something she’d eaten? Sanitary conditions here were not what they were at home, and so far, she’d actually been lucky not to become ill since her arrival in Egypt. Damn, she couldn’t be sick, not now. There was so much to be done.

  Leaning against the stone wall, she pressed her cheek into the coolness of the manmade structure. The cool stone soothed her warm skin. She’d rest a bit, let her stomach settle, then she could go back to exploring the palace. Seated in front of her, Zada clicked softly to herself, watching Alex.

  “Well, what are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen someone get sick before?” The mongoose scurried forward and rubbed her back against Alex’s leg. She stroked the creature’s fur. “Thanks, but there’s nothing you can do at the moment.”

  Comforted by the animal’s presence, she waited for the churning to ease. Several minutes later, the nausea was still present. She didn’t want to go back, but maybe it was for the best. A sharp pain flashed across her midsection, and she doubled over in response. Unable to stop herself, she threw up again. As the heaving stopped, her insides twisted painfully. Damn, of all the times to get sick she had to choose now. It could be anything.

  It was all right, she could come back. No, it wasn’t all right. She wanted to stay and find out more. Logic won out over her impulsive nature. She needed to go back to camp. There was quinine in her trunk for just this sort of thing.

  Grunting her displeasure, she washed away the horrid taste in her mouth, then gathered her things. Grateful for the small mongoose’s presence, she sighed. “Come on, Zada. We’re going home.”

  The animal scurried along in front of her as Alex dragged herself back toward the entrance. She’d never been this sick before in her life. Another pain twisted through her, and she clutched at her stomach as if doing so would stave off the agony. Doggedly, she continued forward.

  She stumbled along for quite some distance before exhaustion settled into her legs. Slowly she sank down onto the ground and rested her head against the stone wall. She needed to rest, just for a minute. Altair was going to have her head for disobeying his orders. Her stomach cramped again. The idea of putting anything into her stomach at the moment was daunting, but she was so thirsty. She took another swig from her goatskin flask. Her fingers reached into her rucksack and pulled out her notebook. When she tried to read the map she’d sketched, the drawings and words kept jumping around on the page. Shoving the thin volume back into her bag, she pushed herself to her feet.

  Keep moving. She had to keep moving.

  Stumbling her way back through the corridors, her hand brushed over each X she’d drawn on the walls. Wearily she congratulated herself on the forethought to mark her path through the palace. For once, she’d done something right despite her impulsive nature. Ahead of her, she saw sunlight pouring into the darkness of the palace interior.

  It took her several tries to pull herself up out of the palace, but when she finally did, Zada waited for her. Weak and exhausted, she lay still in the sand, her arm covering her eyes. She must have dozed off for a moment, because Zada’s chattering in her ear jarred her awake. Sitting up, she unplugged her water bag and took a sip.

  The sun was high in the sky, and already the heat had made her thirsty. Damn, she was going to have to trudge back to camp in the mid-day heat. Not very smart, Alex. Not very smart at all. She should have gone the long way. At least then, she wouldn’t have a mile walk ahead of her to where she’d left the camel. The thought of it made her stomach lurch again.

  She drank deeply from the water bag. Climbing to her feet, she suddenly realized how quiet it was. Where was everyone? Maybe they were moving her work tent down here to the palace. Her stomach twisted again, and she retched where she stood, the heaves draining her energy.

  When she finished, she remained bent over trying to catch her breath. She felt horrible. Why on earth hadn’t she had the common sense to get sick while she was still in her tent? Already her head throbbed from the heat, and she even considered retreating into the coolness of the palace. No, she needed to get back to the camp. There was quinine there, and it would hopefully settle her stomach.

  Off in the distance, she thought she saw some of the Mazir spread out in front of her in a line. Odd, why were they spread out across the sand like that? She started forward, trying to ignore the heat, her aching head and the pain in her stomach. As she walked, she drank some more water. Dehydration was the last thing she needed on top of a stomach bug. The familiar lurching started again.

  When she’d finished retching, she stumbled forward, dragging one foot after another. God, she was miserable. Every inch of her ached, her head hurt, she was exhausted and all she wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep.

  The heat of the sun had now grown almost unbearable. Rest. She had to rest for a moment. Sinking down into the sand, she released a mirthless sound that she recognized as an attempt at laughter. Lord Merrick had been right. The desert was no place for a woman.

  Zada climbed into her lap and chattered softly. Her fingers ruffled the animal’s fur as she watched the wavy line of Mazir in the distance. Wearily, she took another sip of water. The bitter taste seemed stronger, and she shuddered. Scooting the mongoose off her lap, she got to her feet. It wasn’t that far to go. When she reached the men, they’d be able to help her get back to camp.

  Ahead of her, the heat rose up off the surface of the sand in a shimmering wave. Through it, she saw a horse and rider racing in her direction. Sinking to her knees, she waited. Beside her, Zada chattered wildly as the horse approached them.

  The thunder of hooves was a soft echo in her ears as the world spun dizzily around her. With a detached sense of reality, she watched the black animal careen to a halt while she struggled to remain conscious. The sight of Altair’s leather boots crossing the sand toward her filtered through the pain in her head. A moment later, she was engulfed in his arms.

  “You little fool. What the hell did you think you were doing?” The deep note of worry in his voice softened the sharpness of his words.

  He reached for her water bag and offered it to her. Pushing it away, she shook her head. She refused to drink another drop. “No.”

  “Damn it, Alex. You have to drink or you’ll die.”

  Exhausted, she closed her eyes against the harsh determination in his face. She murmured a protest, but was too weak to fight him as he forced the water down her. Lying quietly in his arms, she thought her queasiness had passed.

  Then in the next moment, her stomach twisted painfully insid
e her, the nausea overwhelming her. She feebly rolled away to retch again. The touch of his hand on her back was one of tenderness, and she could hear the concern in his voice.

  “It will be all right, ana anide emîra. You’ll feel better once we return to camp.”

  He lifted the water to her lips again. She gave a weak shove at the goatskin flask, but failed to stop him as he poured more of the liquid down her throat. With the last bit of strength she possessed, she pushed away from him and rejected the water he’d just given her.

  “Damm gahannam.”

  Back in his arms once more, she turned her head into his shoulder. She was so tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. If she slept, her headache might go away and maybe her stomach would stop this horrible churning.

  “Don’t go to sleep, emîra.” His hand gently patted first one cheek then the other.

  She couldn’t open her eyes.

  “Alex, do you hear me? I want you to stay awake.”

  She couldn’t. Not even for him could she stay awake.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Altair flinched when she didn’t open her eyes. Perspiration layered her upper lip in a thin line, and she looked exhausted. He swallowed the knot of fear swelling his throat as he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

  Her breathing was rapid, and fear tensed his hand at the way her pulse beat furiously against the pad of his fingers. Zada watched from a short distance away, alternating between quiet looks and soft clicking noises of what he knew could only be worry.

  Once more, he lifted the water bag to her lips and trickled the liquid into her mouth. She gagged on the water, but he gently stroked her throat to help her swallow. If he didn’t keep water in her, she’d be worse off than she was now. He had to get her back to camp, quickly or she might— No, he wouldn’t let that happen.

  He wasn’t about to let her go. Once more, he eased some water into her mouth. This time she swallowed it more easily. He relaxed a small fraction, until a soft moan poured out of her. She turned her head as her stomach rejected the water he’d just poured down her. What the hell was wrong with her? The last person he’d seen this sick had died of malaria.

  Ice filled his veins. With a vicious tug at his gambaz, he ripped off a piece of cloth and dampened it with the water. His touch light, he wiped the spittle off her lips. God, it was killing him to see her like this. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life.

  Gathering her up into his arms, he carried her back to where Desari waited quietly. Why hadn’t she done as she was told? He’d specifically told her to stay in the tent until he returned for her. He should have known better. Ramesses’ palace had called to her as strongly as the Sahara called to him when he was in England.

  The Arabian mare blew out a warm breath of air against his cheek as he awkwardly reached for the reins and looped first one, and then the other around the pommel. When Alex was well, he was going to give her a lecture she’d never forget.

  He’d warned her not to disobey him in the desert, and she’d committed a cardinal sin. She’d left camp alone and without telling anyone where she’d gone. Half the camp was looking for her at the moment. When he’d seen her dromedary sitting at the edge of the ravine, he’d feared the worst. What had made her walk to the palace instead of riding the camel?

  With a low whistle, he waited as the small mare bent one leg in a deep bow. Zada didn’t wait for an order, but leapt up onto the saddle and settle on the mare’s rump. The horse didn’t move as he threw his leg over the animal’s back and settled into the saddle. At his low command, Desari’s ears quivered and she lurched to her feet.

  Alex murmured a protest, and he kissed her forehead. Her hat hung over his arm, the strings under her chin preventing it from falling off. Gently, he shaded her face again then picked up Desari’s reins and urged the mare into a canter. He wanted to send the mare racing across the hard-packed sand, but he knew better. In this heat, the mare would drop dead from the strain. His fear escalated. What would he do if Alex died? He tightened his mouth into a grim line. She wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let her.

  It took only a few minutes to reach the Mazir who had been scouring the sand for signs of Alex. He pulled Desari to a halt, noting her labored breathing. With a quick word, he ordered his men to return to camp. As they followed his orders, he debated whether to continue on toward the ravine or follow the men. No. Desari would be able to clear the gap, saving him the time it would take to use the paths leading in and out of the ravine. Bloody hell! Impulsive as usual, she’d thought to save time; that’s why she’d walked. It was the only explanation that made sense. She moaned again, her tongue licking her lips in search of water. Reaching for the flask, he gave Alex a few drops of water then took a swig to ease his own parched mouth.

  No sooner had the bitter taste entered his mouth than he spat it out. Damm gahannam. Seconds later, Alex choked up the small amount of liquid he’d given her. Lifting her water flask, he took a whiff of the liquid inside. The sickly sweet smell was faint, but it was enough to send fear slithering through his limbs. Damn it. Why hadn’t he thought to check her water before now? Another quick swig of the water spread more of the bitter, oily taste over his tongue before he spat out the vile liquid. Ipecac.

  Someone had poisoned her water with ipecac. He immediately flung the flask away from him. With a tug at the water bag attached to his saddle, he tore another strip of cloth from his gambaz and drenched the material with water. Gently he squeezed several drops into her mouth.

  If she died, it would be his fault. Not only had he failed to keep her safe, he was the one responsible for giving someone in the tribe access to the ipecac. He’d introduced the drug to the Mazir more than two years ago when a severe case of dysentery had infected the tribe. It had saved lives, but he’d given explicit instructions on its use.

  Too much was deadly. He tightened his mouth in a firm line. The cloth he held was still damp, and he wet her mouth again. She parted her lips as he squeezed water from the cloth.

  “That’s it, emîra. Just a little at a time.”

  With a nudge of his heel, he urged Desari into a canter. As the small mare rapidly closed the distance between them and the ravine, Altair continued to glance down at Alex. Each time he did so, he feared she might have stopped breathing. As they came to the gap they needed to cross, the mare pranced to a halt. Clucking softly to Desari, he rode the edge of the gap for several hundred yards, but the gap didn’t narrow.

  Damn, he hadn’t realized how wide the gap really was. He was asking too much of the little mare. He came to a halt, his heart wrenching in his chest as he tried to focus and make a decision. It was quite possible Desari wouldn’t clear the jump. The horse had more heart than any animal he’d ever owned, but with two riders on her back she might not clear the ravine. There wasn’t time to go around now. Alex needed medical attention right away. If she died— He would have to trust that Desari’s heart was big enough to carry the three of them over the gap. Wheeling the mare away from the edge of the wall, he cantered her back several hundred yards before turning around. The Arabian snorted and tossed her head, then leaped forward as he nudged her side with a light touch of his heel.

  They pounded across the desert floor directly toward the gap. Just as they reached the edge of the drop off, the horse gave a tremendous leap and sailed through the air. Seconds later, she landed on the opposite side.

  As she landed, the mare lurched to one side, her left front leg taking the full impact of the large jump. He heard a loud snap splinter through the air, and the noise sent a lash of pain ripping through him. The hard landing jerked him forward, but by some miracle, he managed to remain in the saddle.

  Most animals would have immediately rolled after such a landing, but Desari sank to her knees, her head tossing wildly. With Alex held tight against his chest he slid off the horse and stumbled away to a safe distance.

 
; Sinking to his knees, he stared in stunned horror as the animal struggled and thrashed about in an effort to stand. After several attempts she collapsed back to the desert floor. How was he going to explain this to his brother? The two of them had raised Desari from birth. Kahil would be heartbroken. Hearing a loud cry behind him, he looked over his shoulder. Kahlil and Medjuel rode toward him, and a moment later, Medjuel was at his side. The Sheikh nodded toward his horse.

  “Ride Maysa back to camp, Altair. I’ll take care of Desari.”

  The words broke through his stupor. God help him. He’d destroyed her. Swallowing a huge knot of pain in his throat, he shook his head.

  “No. She’s mine, I should do it.” His throat ached from the hoarseness of his words. “Take Alex to my mother. Her water’s been poisoned with ipecac. Mother will know what to do.”

  Medjuel frowned, but did not argue. Together, they walked to Maysa, and he passed Alex up into his cousin’s arms. Zada chattered loudly at the action, and he scooped the little mongoose up, setting her in Alex’s lap. With a twist of his reins, the Sheikh wheeled around and galloped back to camp.

  The sight of his brother holding the mare’s head in his lap, stroking her nose, wrapped a band of pain around his chest. He struggled to control the dark grief welling up inside him. Arabians were beloved members of a Bedouin’s family, and in his tent, Desari had always been a favorite.

  He touched Kahlil’s shoulder, and the boy lifted a tear-stained face to him. Closing his eyes against his brother’s sadness, he swallowed his own grief. “Say goodbye, Kahlil. I can’t continue to let her suffer like this.”

  The youth nodded and released another sob. Not looking at his brother, he drew his rifle from the saddle. His hand shook as he loaded the rounds and snapped the gun closed. The sharp click scraped at the nerves along his spine. Turning, he knelt by the animal’s head and stroked her jowl.

  “You saved her, Desari. I thank you for that yâ ‘aini SâHib.” The animal snorted loudly, her eyes rolling with pain. With a quiet order, he told Kahlil to step away from the horse. He gave Desari one last caress before rising to his feet.