Upon The Edge of a Knife

A story of the many trials of Mahado, and the love between the Prince, Atemu and his priest, Seto.

Warnings: AU, yaoi, violence, character deaths, story length

CHAPTER ONE: Ambush!

NOW

It was a trap.

With increasing horror, the horses neighed as the charioteers struggled to regain control of the beasts amid a wave of arrows that assailed the unsuspecting soldiers. Some had been precise and reached their targets, producing alarmed sounds as the ambushed troop grappled for control of the situation. The ambush was well-planned, if only by the thought that the small patrol was far from town and reinforcements, even if sent, would arrive too late. And with archers in their midst, the mercenaries had the clear advantage.

The priest, Mahado, headed this small group and hastily called for a retreat, hoping to save his men. For his efforts, an arrow pierced his shoulder and he shouted in pain, clutching his arm as he struggled to keep himself from falling off his horse. At his distressed shout, however, his men circled him, guarding him with swords in hand in a futile attempt to protect him. For the briefest of moments, his chest soared with pride. These guards, he had trained with and recruited them personally. To bear witness to their unwavering courage and loyalty in the face of death was humbling.

But he said, "Retreat! Save your lives!"

They would not leave. Despite his mistake of trusting too eagerly the 'local' that eventually led them to this situation; despite his inability to protect them when he had promised them that. He would have them save themselves. He urged his steed to run, his escape followed by his men's own. He chanced to look at them, in their steeds or chariots, shooting at the archers who hid behind the rocks in that narrow pass. They could escape this, and his hope increased. They had only been wounded and none had died. But when he looked at the pass again, his initial joy of having their lives spared dissipated. He paled. They were being pursued by twice as many men as he had.

"We can outrun them," he encouraged, refusing the dread to sink in. "Do not stop. We will reach the town."

It was only a day's ride, the town. They would reach it mere moments after sunset; half a day if they persevered even harder. And yet, when their pursuers started firing at them, aiming for their steeds, their chances fell to a meagre single digit. At their rear, one of his men howled in agony, an arrow piercing his chest and he fell, his steed stopping. Anemro, the one nearest his fallen soldier, stopped as well, planning to get the body and thus, making himself vulnerable to the arrows. With renewed horror, Mahado watched as each man stopped, himself included, intending to protect the others who had stopped before.

The distance between them and their pursuers slowly shortened.

"We have to go quickly!" He ordered, his worry for his men devouring him and leaving him breathless. No amount of experience could teach him to quell his fear for these men, especially for a mistake as grave as this. "This is not the time to be valorous. We will fight another day. Let us go!"

"We are open targets here, Captain," Anemro said. They had taken to calling him that. A priest would not wield a sword as deadly as he would, they had often joked. And besides, weren't they more than underlings, and more of soldiers? "You are just as vulnerable as us. You must leave us, Captain."

"No!" It was either they go or die together.

Their foes were already in view, and the reality of the situation sunk in. They were tired of running, his men. They itched to fight for Ibenre, who was slain. Yet even then, he did not want to leave them.

"My lord, please go," one of them pleaded further, voicing the thought that everyone else hesitated to raise. They were men of the blade now, and for a long time, they had known that their fate was to die by it as well. There was no other acceptable option. But they would die on a time of their choosing—now—to give Mahado time to escape. He had always been deemed more important than them; his status assured him that. Their lives they would give up for his. Mahado's guts twisted as the thought sickened him. They were his friends!

Mahado watched as each individual member of his patrol jumped from their horses and chariots, brandishing bows to return fire. Their eyes fell on him one last time, compelling him to cede to their request, before re-focusing their attention to their pursuers. He was their captain. How could he leave them to their deaths?

"Mahado, leave us!"

Mahado had turned his steed around, removing his blade from its sheathe, and this had caught everyone's attention. Now, it was their turn to be horrified and as they all tarried, their enemies drew even closer. One enemy archer fired, almost hitting his target, Mahado's hand. The blade dropped with a clang, and it was the last straw. Although the priest refused to desert them, they would not have it. Mkhai, their youngest member, quickly re-directed the priest's steed and slapped its rear, relishing in its shocked neigh and its quick gallop to safety. At least their captain would live to see another day for all of them.

"NO!" Mahado shouted, grabbing the reigns, "Don't do this!"

But his men would not move, determined to cover for him and to prevent anyone else to come after him.

"I refuse!"

Yet his steed could not be reasoned with, and the glance his men threw him was of gratitude and goodbye—gratitude for many unmentioned things and goodbye because it was the inevitable. Even when he regained control of the beast, he was too late. He was too far from them. Even if he returned to them, they would all be dead.

If they were slain and he returned, their sacrifice would be in vain. If they were alive and he did not return, they could still survive long enough for him to be able to send reinforcements. That was how operations go, and everyone knew that. That was why they intended to send him away.

Dizziness took over. Mahado threw up the contents of his empty stomach as he collapsed onto his horse in combined exhaustion, pain and grief.

THEN

For days, reports of bandits and unorganized rogues terrorizing the outskirt towns of the kingdom were sent to the palace. They hounded the Pharaoh, who promised his people safety from plundering forces. The attacks had gone as far as stopping trade and agriculture, the main industries of the town, putting the people in a state of poverty that was not to be their situation in the first place. They wanted an army, not only to defend them but to pursue and kill those responsible for their misfortune. Yet what the people wanted, the Pharaoh could not always give. They did not know that.

The kingdom's territory was threatened by invaders with superior number and strength, a more pressing threat compared to villainous mercenaries hiding in hills and caves. So instead, the Pharaoh ordered for two of his Guardians, his most trusted Priests, who were equally capable in rituals and diplomacy as in battle, to settle the domestic problem as he settled state affairs abroad.

Priests Mahado and Seto were called to heed the Pharaoh's orders. Among the six Guardians, they had the freshest laudable experience in battle. They had served in the army first, before they committed to priestly training, after all. They were the youngest of the six as well, and many had expected them to get along well. That was not to happen. They were always at odds with each other for an unknown reason.

"Fret not, Master Mahado," Seto said as soon as the Pharaoh gave them their leave. Mahado glanced at him warily, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. "I can handle this. Leave these kinds of affairs to capable hands."

"Capable hands?" Mahado laughed, earning the other priest's scowl. "Then, Master Seto, pray tell, how can I ever knowingly leave this to you?"

The duo was notorious for their outbursts. Even before they were inducted, Seto and Mahado had never gotten along. Many pointed to Seto's blatant belittlement of Mahado's skills. But Mahado's tendency to rile the short-tempered priest and retaliate could be blamed for exacerbating the situation, too. At Mahado's retort, Seto's eyes hardened into a piercing glare. They would have come to blows had another figure not piped in with his laughter. Both priests froze as the Crown Prince revealed himself.

"Don't you get tired of this ridiculous rivalry, my friends?" the Crown Prince asked. It was rather vexing, honestly. "I would rather see you both helping each other vanquish our foes."

"You've been eavesdropping again," Seto called on him when no one else would dare such blatant disrespect. The prince found his displeasure amusing, though, and it incensed him further.

"The walls have many ears," was the prince's reply. But as he was quick to laughter, he was quick to sobriety, too. With serious eyes, he looked at them, studying each priest. Seto crossed his arms in his usual impatient posture while Mahado met the Prince's gaze, ever welcoming. Such stark contrasts, his friends were, the Prince thought.

"I would not lose either of you to those mercenaries," he reminded, although his gaze lingered with Mahado. "Be careful."

Then, the Prince stepped forward, breaching protocol to encase them in an embrace. To each, he whispered, "Make sure you come back."

To be continued...

A/N: Now, I know, I should be working on One Notch Higher. I am, really. But this has been bothering me all day, yesterday, and I finally decided to write it in time for today. I know not many know but this is actually a gift for myself. It's my birthday today! And I've always wanted to write an AE fic that's AU and a younger Seto, Mahado and Atemu. So, this is the product. I've written the next five chapters in one sitting, so updates will hopefully be frequent, at least for this week. I'm not kidding about the warning, though. Like I said in the summary, this shows Mahado's many trials... and it might be lengthy in terms of chapters, at least.

I got the title from a quote from the Lord of the Rings, when in the FOTR movie, the Lady Galadriel said, "The Fellowship stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail. But hope remains, if friends stay true."

I thought it was morose and foreboding enough. Heh.

Tell me, tell me what you thought. Should I continue this? Did you hate something? I would love to know.