The Amulet of Power (10 page)

“But your camel did, didn’t he?”

Hassam frowned. “Yes.”

“What is this all about?” demanded Omar.

“Look,” said Lara, pointing to Hassam’s camel, which had not advanced toward the water with the others, but was hanging back.

The poor beast was swaying unsteadily on weakened legs, a stream of white foam dripping from its mouth. Hassam rushed over to it, but before he could reach it the camel collapsed. It began bleating, and then, suddenly, it stiffened its forelegs spasmodically and died.

Hassam opened the dead animal’s mouth. The tongue was black and bloated.

“This is the only well for a hundred miles or more, right?” asked Lara.

“That is correct,” said Omar.

“The Mahdists are obviously a well-organized force,” said Lara. “They knew we weren’t going to show ourselves by going alongside the Nile, and they figured that if we survived their first attack, sooner or later we’d wind up at this well, so they poisoned the water. If we’d arrived even five minutes sooner, before the camel began showing any symptoms, that would have been all our fates in another two or three hours.”

“What kind of wondrous woman are we traveling with?” said Gaafar almost worshipfully. “Lara Croft, you have saved our lives for the second time!”

“I haven’t done a thing,” replied Lara.

“But you have,” insisted Gaafar stubbornly.

“We’re in the desert, we’ve lost a camel, the oasis is poisoned, and we’re out of water,” she said grimly. “Somebody had better save the saver.”

11

“We’d better give this some serious thought,” said Omar as the wind continued blowing sand through the air. “Obviously we can’t continue on our route. For all we know, the next six or eight or ten oases and wells are poisoned.”

“Why would they bother?” asked Hassam. “They will assume we died here.”

“Will they still assume it when they come by to collect the Amulet in the morning and there are no bodies here and only one camel?” asked Lara sardonically.

“He’s a really good shot, though,” said Omar with a smile of amusement as Hassam lowered his eyes in embarrass-ment and shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“I think the first thing we’d better do is bury the camel and see if there’s any way to hide the fact that we were here at all,” suggested Lara. “If they don’t know that we figured out the water was poisoned, if they think we were in a hurry and just went right past it, they may wait until we reach the next oasis or well before coming after us, whereas if they know we found out this oasis was poisoned, they’ll figure out that we’re smart enough not to continue going from oasis to oasis.”

“All but one of us, anyway,” said Hassam, still mortified.

“You’re right, of course,” Omar said to Lara. “We’ll have to return to Lake Nasser.”

“I don’t like it,” said Gaafar.

“We have to have water,” said Lara. “And now we have some use for the spare tires,” she added, indicating the two camels that had been tagging along since the journey began.

“We won’t have much use for
any
of the camels,” said Omar.

Lara smiled. “We’re going to buy a
felluca
, right?”

“Wrong,” said Omar. “We’re going to steal one.”

“Why take the chance?” asked Lara. “I have more than enough money.”

“The Mahdists are looking for an Englishwoman who is heading south along Lake Nasser and the Nile,” explained Omar. “If we purchase it, even if you do not speak, someone will figure out who you are. Even if they care nothing for the Mahdists, they have no reason to keep your identity a secret—and I assure you that the Mahdists will give them more than ample reason to reveal it to them. No, it is much better to steal it in the dead of night and let them think it was a thief from a neighboring village.”

Lara turned to Hassam. “Move over,” she said wryly. “You’ve got company.”

“I do not understand,” said Hassam. “Move where?”

“Never mind. It doesn’t translate very well.”

Suddenly Lara realized that Omar was staring intently at her in the dim moonlight.

“Is something wrong?” she asked at last.

“As I said, you don’t have to utter a word to be identified as an Englishwoman. No Moslem woman wears shorts—certainly not like yours—and none would carry pistols.” He walked to his saddlebags, pulled out a robe, and tossed it to her. “Put this on. I am closer to your size than Gaafar or Hassam.”

She got into the robe, then stood still while Gaafar wrapped her head.

“Well?” she asked when they were done.

“It drags on the ground,” observed Omar.

“What difference does that make?” asked Gaafar. “She will be sitting in a
felluca
.”

“If no one gets too near,” said Omar, “if they see you from the shore while we are on the boat, if no fisherman’s boat comes close to ours . . .”

“It will work,” said Gaafar decisively. “It hides her shape sufficiently. She can pass for a teenaged boy.”

“I get the feeling Omar doesn’t think so,” replied Lara dubiously.

“Yes he does,” said Gaafar. “But it is Omar’s job to anticipate the unexpected so that we can be prepared for any eventuality.” He looked at her again and repeated: “It will work.”

“Yes, probably it will,” said Omar. He glanced around the oasis. “I was mistaken,” he announced. “There is no sense burying the camel or clearing the area of footprints and hoofprints. Let’s ride to Lake Nasser. With luck we can be there a few hours before dawn and be a few miles away before anyone realizes a boat is missing.”

“Right,” replied Lara, nodding her agreement. “And you weren’t mistaken; it was
my
suggestion. I didn’t think it through.”

“I know I will regret asking,” said Hassam. “But why are we not trying to hide the fact that we were here and that we know the water is poisoned?”

“If we spend three or four hours making the oasis pristine, we won’t reach Lake Nasser until daylight,” said Omar. “We want to steal a boat, not acquire one in a pitched gun battle.”

“Besides,” added Lara, “the wind will soon die down. It may cover the first few miles of tracks we leave, but we’re more than twenty miles from the lake. Unless you know a way to cover
all
the tracks we’re going to make, it won’t be too long before the Mahdists figure out where we’re going.”

“We can talk while we ride,” said Omar, “and time is of the essence. We
must
reach the lake before sunrise.”

Lara took the last swallow from her canteen. “How long will it take to reach Lake Nasser?” she asked as El Khobar rose to his feet and fell into step behind Gaafar’s camel, with Omar’s next to hers and Hassam’s bringing up the rear.

“Perhaps five hours, perhaps six,” replied Omar. “With luck we’ll get there four hours before dawn, which is fortunate because I do not know for a fact that there will be a village where we reach the lake. We may have to ride along the shore for a few miles.”

Lara looked at the canteen, then shrugged and slung it over her shoulder. “Six hours. That’s not too long to go without a drink.”

“I warned you before,” cautioned Omar. “You may become ill from the water.”

“You informed me of the alternative,” said Lara distastefully. “Let’s let the camels keep the water they’ve already drunk.”

Omar laughed. “That was done only in situations of the greatest desperation. Our situation may be desperate, but thankfully not in that way. We are being hunted by enemies. If they catch or confront us, we have rifles and pistols and can return their fire. Who do you shoot at when you are lost in the desert and there is no water?”

“Point taken,” admitted Lara. “Tell me about the Mahdists.”

“What do you wish to know?”

“The Mahdi’s grandson, whose name eludes me. . . .” began Lara.

“Sadiq al Mahdi,” provided Omar promptly.

“Sadiq al Mahdi,” she repeated. “He was elected as the Sudan’s prime minister back in the 1960s, wasn’t he?”

“In 1965,” said Omar. “But his government fell in 1967.”

“But then he came back again, didn’t he?”

“He was elected in 1986,” answered Omar. “And he was thrown out a second time three years later.”

“Then my question is simply this: Since there’s still a bloodline tracing to the Mahdi, and since one of them was popular enough to be elected not once but twice, why don’t the Mahdists support one of the Mahdi’s descendants to run the country? Why waste all this effort trying to find the Amulet?”

“Sadiq al Mahdi was elected twice because of his bloodline, and he was removed twice because of his performance in office,” answered Omar. “This served to show the Mahdists that merely having the blood of the original Mahdi is not enough. Their hoped-for leader must have the power as well, and that power resides in the Amulet.”

“If they should find it before we do, will they give it to a descendant of the Mahdi?” she asked.

“Whoever possesses it will
be
the Mahdi,” explained Omar. “The grandson and others took it as a family name, but the original Mahdi was actually named Muhammad Ahmad. The word
Mahdi
actually means the Expected One; in your culture, it would be the equivalent of the Messiah.”

“I see,” said Lara. “So the Mahdists really have no ties to the current Mahdi clan?”

“No,” answered Omar. “In fact, should the Mahdists come into possession of the Amulet, I think they will probably slaughter all who bear the name as heretics, just as they will kill those of us who do not accept the possessor as the true Mahdi.”

“Then shouldn’t those who carry the Mahdi’s blood be willing to help us?” she asked.

“The descendants of Muhammad Ahmad believe authority over the people and affairs of the Sudan should be theirs by right of birth. They oppose the Mahdists because of the Amulet, but they oppose us because we do not agree that their blood gives them the right to rule us.” Omar smiled. “In this case,” he concluded, “the enemy of my enemy is not my friend.”

“Exactly how many Mahdists are there?”

“Who knows? A hundred thousand, a million, five million. They are spread across all of North Africa, and as far away as Istanbul. Wherever people await the Expected One, there are Mahdists.”

“And how many of your anti-Mahdists are there?”

“There
are
anti-Mahdists, those who do not want the Amulet found, but we do not call ourselves anti-Mahdists,” said Omar. “In fact, we do not call ourselves anything at all. We number a few thousand at most. We coalesced when we learned of Colonel Stewart’s visit to the Temple of Horus. There simply wasn’t anything to do before that, because no one knew where the Amulet was. Once we knew it still existed, it became our holy mission to find and destroy it.”

“There was nothing in the Temple,” said Lara.

“But the Mahdists don’t know that.”

“That fact has been forcibly impressed upon me,” she said grimly.

“And that is why we must now find it, rather than simply stopping anyone else from finding it,” continued Omar. “Otherwise they will kill you, and your friend Kevin Mason.” He paused. “If we have any advantage at all, it is that they will soon conclude that you did not find the Amulet, and I think they will then be content to wait while you and Mason search for it in the Sudan. After all, why should they kill the two people who are most likely to find that which they so greatly desire?”

“I thought I was in big trouble when I was buried in that tomb,” said Lara. She grimaced, remembering her confrontation with the hideous god Set. “Now I think that Fate was just giving me a chance to rest before
really
putting me through the wringer.”

They continued riding through the night, Lara asking Omar an occasional question about the Sudan, Gaafar and Hassam constantly scanning the darkness for enemies.

Finally they came to the shore of Lake Nasser. Lara climbed off El Khobar and filled her canteen.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” she said, straightening up and looking out across the lake.

“It is the largest man-made lake in the world, created when they built the High Dam,” said Omar, “but it is the water of the Nile all the same. There is nothing to compare to it.”

“There is one lake,” replied Lara. “Lake Kariba in Zimbabwe, made when they built a dam across the Zambezi.”

“I have never been there, but I have seen maps. It is nowhere as large as Lake Nasser.”

“No,” she agreed, “but it’s much deeper. In fact, the weight of the water caused the floor of the lake to collapse. It’s known as the lake that put a dent in the Earth.”

“The Zambezi is not the Nile,” said Omar, convinced that if they were having an argument he had just won it.

Gaafar walked up to them. “We’d better start riding,” he said. “We must find a boat before sunrise.”

Omar nodded, and a moment later they were going south along the lakeshore. In three miles they came to a small village, and silently lifted a
felluca
and carried it to the water.

“We will tether the camels and leave them here as payment,” said Omar.

“Won’t the villagers scream to the authorities?”

Omar smiled. “Five camels are worth an entire fleet of
fellucas
. They will consider themselves blessed by Allah, and they will tell no one, for fear that the government will confiscate some of the camels in lieu of taxes.”

Gaafar and Hassam finished their work and moved the saddles, saddle pads, rifle sheaths, and all the other equipment the camels had been carrying into the
felluca
. Then Omar tethered the camels’ forelegs, he, Lara and Hassam got into the
felluca
, and Gaafar, the largest and strongest of them, pushed the boat away from shore and jumped in.

“Good-bye, El Khobar,” said Lara softly, looking back at the camels. “You’ll be a lot safer without me.”

El Khobar turned his head briefly at the sound of her voice and snorted once, as if in total agreement.