By
Christine Hall
Title: Only the Beginning
Author: Christina Hall, aka Trillium
Rating: R for violence, sexual situations, and the usual bad attitudes
Special thanks to Kao Vang for editing and many good suggestions
Disclaimer: The Mummy and the characters therein are the property of
Universal Studios.
No infringement intended. I am making no money off of
this.
Chapter 9
Back in his quarters in the Temple Imhotep bathed and changed
clothes, then went to the infirmary. Anak-sun-amun was indeed there, lying
in one of the beds. One of the physicians was readying some kind of potion,
and his assistant was placing cool, wet cloths on her forehead, so Imhotep
did no more than look for a moment from the doorway. She seemed well-cared
for, certainly. He wished he could go sit beside her for a while, but that
would be unseemly, and besides, Pharaoh was expecting him back. Sighing, he
turned his steps to the outer entrance of the Temple.
***********
Imhotep could not sleep that night. After lying on his bed awake
for what must have been hours, he decided it was useless and got up, pulling
on his robe and gliding soundlessly from the room. No one else was about at
this hour, and the Temple was dark except for scattered torches, one of
which he took from its bracket to light his way. He was not planning to go
anywhere in particular, but he soon found himself before the door of the
preparation chamber on the level below the sanctuary, and he suddenly
recalled something Anak-sun-amun had said. "I shall never be free of the
Pharaoh, except in death."
He paused for a moment, thinking. As High Priest of Osiris and
Keeper of the Dead, Imhotep was privy to some unusual knowledge that few
others had access to. One of these pieces of information was that, under
certain circumstances, it is possible to resurrect the dead.
Still not sure why, exactly, he was doing this, he pushed open the
door to the preparation room with a creak. Within, all was unearthly still.
The heavy stone tables, the racks of neatly stored, sharpened instruments,
seemed to take on greater significance in the dark and silence. In one
corner an empty coffin stood propped, its painted face gazing into eternity.
In another corner a table held a shadowy, obscure shape, impossible to
identify at this distance, but which Imhotep knew was the body of the priest
Tiamon, three weeks dead and slowly drying under heaps of natron.
One day would he see Anak-sun-amun lying on one of these tables,
cold and pale in death, her beautiful eyes closed forever?
No! His mind rejected the thought as soon as it came to him. It
would not be forever. Death was only the beginning! For them- the
beginning of happiness! And the Book of the Dead, now lying hidden at
Hamunaptura, would show them the way.
***********
Anak-sun-amun lay ill for nine days, and, as promised, two Med-jai
guards came in every morning, and sometimes in the afternoon as well, to
prowl around the infirmary and ask all manner of suspicious questions.
Imhotep made sure that one of his priests was always on hand to send them on
their way as soon as possible, but they did not go far. There was always a
small group of them posted outside the temple, watching the entrances like
hungry wolves. No one left or entered the Temple without them knowing.
Their presence weighed heavily on Imhotep's mind, especially after
Anak-sun-amun's fever broke and she slowly began to regain her strength.
Sooner or later she would have to return to the palace. And then what would
happen? Imhotep had formed a plan, but he had to discuss it with
Anak-sun-amun first, as it was very dangerous. Anything that involved the
Book of the Dead, not to mention disobedience to a Pharaoh, was bound to be.
He was passing the infirmary one afternoon when the head Med-jai
stepped in front of him and bowed.
"High Priest, the physicians have told us that Lady Anak-sun-amun is
out of danger. They want her to stay here one more night, but we will be
returning her to the palace tomorrow."
Imhotep nodded politely, though he felt his heart sink. "Of course.
Send someone to tell His Majesty- I'm sure he will be glad to hear it."
The Med-jai continued toward the Temple exit, and Imhotep looked
around the doorframe into the infirmary. Anak-sun-amun was sitting up in
bed, her face turned away from him, talking with a young woman who was one
of the infirmary assistants. Imhotep had to look away; if he stared at her
much longer he might not be able to stop himself from going to her and
covering her face with kisses. And now was not the time for that.
But she had one more night to spend in the Temple, and Imhotep was
not going to waste it.
***********
He waited until after sunset, when the lamps had been extinguished,
and then made his way softly back to the infirmary. The moonlight streamed
in through the small, high window, reminding Imhotep of the last time there
had been a full moon: the night of the feast, when he had walked
Anak-sun-amun to her quarters and they had paused in the garden and looked
at the stars. He was struck by a sense of things having come full circle.
But was it really only a month ago that he had first laid eyes on her? So
much had happened since then, but whether it was for better or worse only
the gods could say.
Anak-sun-amun slept peacefully, her hair spreading over the pillow,
so beautiful that Imhotep had to remind himself to breathe. Gently he
brushed his hand over her cheek, and she stirred slightly.
"Love," he whispered. She did not wake, so he bent over her and
tenderly pressed his mouth to hers, teasing her lips apart with his tongue.
That got her attention, and she was responding to the kiss before she was
fully awake. After a moment she opened her eyes.
"Is this a dream?"she asked sleepily, and Imhotep smiled as he stood
up.
"No. Come, my treasure, let's go someplace where we can talk." He
extended his hand and helped her out of bed, and they left the infirmary
together. The few other patients in the large room slept on, oblivious to
the treachery that they might have witnessed.
***********
Anak-sun-amun walked a little more slowly than usual, but otherwise
seemed fully recovered. Imhotep was indescribably relieved that this was
so, but it inevitably reminded him that as of tomorrow she would be back in
Pharaoh's palace, and probably in the lecherous old man's bed as well. The
thought of him touching Anak-sun-amun ever again was unbearable.
Suddenly
the plan Imhotep had been forming began to take on a new and even more
blasphemous twist as he realized that not only did he want to free his lover
from Seti's clutches, he also wanted revenge for all the unhappiness he had
given her. And he wanted the Pharaoh to know, in his last, fear-filled
moments, exactly why Imhotep was so concerned about a mere concubine. The
look of shocked realization on his face would be sweet indeed. Imhotep's
lips turned up in a smile of anticipation.
Once they were inside Imhotep's chambers, Anak-sun-amun sat down on
the edge of the bed, looking around at the magnificent paintings on
religious subjects that decorated the walls. The furniture, however, was
frugal, giving the impression that the High Priest lived around these
masterpieces, instead of with them. Imhotep sat beside Anak-sun-amun and
put his arm around her, stroking her cheek with the other hand.
"You're going back to the palace tomorrow," he said, and she heard
the infinite sadness and regret in his voice.
"I know," she said, nodding, a catch in her voice. "I think I would
rather die."
"Anak-sun-amun," he said, his tone turning serious as he placed his
hands on her shoulders and made her look at him. "If you would like to be
free of the Pharaoh, I have a plan, but you will have to be very brave."
"I would do anything." The determination in her voice left no room
for doubt.
Imhotep began to explain to her. There was a spell, he said,
contained in the secret Book of the Dead, that had the power to raise the
deceased back to life. If Anak-sun-amun were to die, and be taken to the
Temple for mummification, Imhotep and the priests loyal to him could steal
her body, take it to Hamunaptura, the City of the Dead, and there perform
the ritual that would give her life again. From there it would be a simple
enough matter for the two of them to quietly disappear and start life over
again, far from Thebes. And they would be together. Imhotep emphasized
that fact.
"So...I would have to kill myself?" Anak-sun-amun asked, wide-eyed.
She had turned noticeably paler while Imhotep was explaining his plan.
"Yes." Imhotep nodded.
"If it is the only way, it is the only way." she said, drawing
herself up. "But if I must die, I want to take my master with me." The word
"master" was said with so much sarcasm and hatred that Imhotep could feel it
like a knife on his skin. So, she had had the same idea he had. He found
himself hesitating, though.
"Are you sure?" he asked. To do that was blasphemy of the highest
kind, unheard of in all the land of Egypt.
"I am not afraid," Anak-sun-amun put in. "If he lives, he will only
find another favorite, and some other young woman will end up just like me."
Imhotep embraced her fiercely, overcome with love for such courage
and determination. "There is no one like you," he whispered against her
neck. She moaned as his lips brushed her skin, pulling him closer,
encouraging him. He worried about her, though- she was so soon out of her
sickbed.
He backed away from her, running his fingers through her silky hair.
"Are you really strong enough for this?" He asked, trying to make his voice
stern, demanding the truth.
"For you, always," she answered with a coquettish smile, and lay
back on the bed invitingly. The sight of her stretched out before him made
his desire flare up afresh, and he lay down beside her and captured her lips
with his, giving no more thought to the past or the future.