Winged Horse
This is my "Pegasus and Isis hide the God Cards" story. There are many like it in the YGO archive, but this one is mine.
Actually, ever since I began reading and writing fanfiction back in 2003 (crap, sheer crap, I wrote so much of it (and perhaps I still do write crap, but it's now it's articulate crap)), I've been wanting to write their adventure together, but never really got the juice to do it until now.
I am surprised at how much I really enjoyed having these two interacting with each other. I honestly didn't even know I was a Sightshipper until I got a third into writing this story. Of course, if you're not into the pairing, it can easily be viewed as the Magic Millennium Friends Road Trip, as I truly intended it to be so.
I will be using names and titles from the Japanese translation (Isis, Pegasus J. Crawford, Sky Dragon of Osiris, etc.) since it will tie in a little better with the mythological theme. But when Pegasus speaks throughout the story, I just cannot help but imagine Darren Dunstan's voice. You can imagine what you want, though. We all know Pegasus is Pegasus no matter what.
Any other notes for now? Well, I can say with certainty that I put far, far too much thought into incorporating realism and historical references into a series focused around a children's card game. Such is life and I apologize for nothing.
Yu-gi-oh! and its characters are copy-written to Kazuki Takahashi and Konami. I own nothing except the power of my own imagination, which really isn't worth that much to begin with anyway.
OSIRIS
I am a heavenborn, I am in the presence of the Great Gods.
– 50, Chapter for not entering into the slaughterhouse of the god, The Papyrus of Ani, The Book of Going Forth By Day
Isis Ishtar had foreseen meeting Pegasus in only two accounts.
Her first, and brief, encounter was when she was sixteen and worked as an intern for an excavation company under the Council of Antiquities. It was all foreseen, her education proven with rigorous tests and certificates in short time. Most of the knowledge came from her studies in the tombs, everything from the well established dynasties covered in expensive text books to minor cults referenced in no more than a passage from a military conquest record. Yet the small bits that really mattered to the Egyptian government, all the red tape and ink on paper, came from what guidance the Torque offered in its sporadic visions. Whatever driving force was present in the cursed gold on her neck made sure she formed the necessary connections with the right people at the right time. Nothing was by chance.
She had been set upon a disastrous path, doomed to a struggle with her brother that would make most siblings rethink their own dysfunctional relations. Yet there was no time for remorse –no more than she had spent leading her brothers astray with her foolish mistake. There was a bigger scheme at hand, the End Game. She wasn't there to play.
She was wasting her time, though. The Torque guided her there, miles away from the Valley of the Kings, among rows of tents and scaffolds that led to nowhere. She knew the exact whereabouts of the Gods which Pegasus sought, (she had passed by them almost every other day before the death of her father) but as she was an intern, she had no authority to be giving orders. She sighed to herself as she measured the dimensions of what she knew would be another dead end on the map and readjusted the shemagh she wore on her head to keep the sand out of her eyes. She was nondescript among her coworkers, all in beige robes and chattering amongst one another in Arabic. What was for lunch?
"Rrrr!" She heard a growl from afar, then loud thud atop a table. She looked over her shoulder and beheld the sight of Pegasus hovering over a map, sweat dripping from his brow and his singular, biological eye frantic. She did not envy the cowering archaeologists aside him, but the scene was now familiar to her. She was counting down the seconds in her head. Where was he?
"They must be here somewhere, and I won't rest until I find them! These three monsters are an essential part of my game!"
Isis' eyes had narrowed at a sudden intruder in the open tent across from where she stood. There he was.
Shadi, in his vexing glory, appeared out of nowhere, as he always did. The man never drew attention from the surrounding peoples aside from whom he addressed, and wondered if the Key dangling from his neck was the culprit behind this power, or if the sheer ubiquity of his sand-colored turban and thawb made him appear unremarkable for others' recognition.
The two exchanged a conversation, one she knew all too well, about leading the desperate CEO to the tombs she once called home. Pegasus seemed grateful for the assistance, nearly falling over a loaded box in excitement at Shadi's announcement of taking him to the Gods' resting place. Isis remained a distant skeptic of the entire situation.
Years ago, Shadi had pinned Pegasus as a player in the great End Game, much like how he had done so to herself and her brother, Malik. Did Shadi also possess some clairvoyant talent? Did the Key speak to him, as the Torque did to her, influencing the unfolding events? Or was Shadi the center of all this chaos, pushing everyone toward the edge for his own agenda?
"It is unlike you to think of conspiracies," Shadi said, standing uncomfortably close to her side. She didn't jump, and her eyes narrowed further. Her Torque did not reveal this conversation. Of course, even with the shemagh, he had recognized her among the multitude of staff. Did he read minds as the Eye would allow?
"I do not see as you do, Isis Ishtar, nor do I abuse the assets of one's mind. I am a seer of souls, and yours is troubled." His tone was not one of concern. He only made an observation.
"As all of ours are," Isis retorted. "There is nothing but agony in that tomb."
"The suffering is necessary," was all Shadi said, before he turned away. She watched him walk back over to Pegusus and spoke again. The silver-haired man consumed every word without question. Her shoulders dropped a few centimeters in sympathy.
Yes, it was necessary, but the acceptance did not make the reality any more pleasant.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
Their second encounter occurred some years later.
She had found Pegasus, or rather, had been guided to him, catching him staring through the shades of a window before he turned to see her. He had paid for the presidential suite on the top floor, giving him a romantic view of the pyramids of Giza, the sky aglow with orange and pink, midnight blue growing along the edges. It was the ideal setting for a brochure.
The hotel concierge had given her a wry look before she presented her identification and prattled about their most recent health inspection (she knew about the fleas). She was no longer an intern, but the next in line for the position of Secretary General of the Antiquities branch. Flattery got her nowhere, but she learned early that exaction of regulation worked wonders with the flash of a government ID. The Torque always held a penchant to reveal the dark side of matters, whether she asked it to or not.
The concierge paid attention to the symbol on her badge and completely ignored the "Antiquities" specification in small print. He was so kind to provide her a key to the room, as well. An eyebrow had raised in mild disdain for such blind trust, then she chastised herself. She had just used her position for personal gain; she was in no place to judge anyone at that moment.
The silver-haired man gasped when the door opened with an audible click.
"I've been awaiting your return to the Land of the Pharaohs. I am Isis Ishtar," she greeted dryly. She noted the metal suit case on the bed, three cards of the deities she knew too well on display. Had Pegasus been admiring his unsanctified work before she came? The thought had left her head as soon as it had come. There was little time to waste. If she knew their whereabouts, then Malik wasn't far behind.
"Now come with me."
Pegasus stared at her in bewilderment, before his face contorted in a manner as though he had sipped a glass of bad wine.
"I didn't request any entertainment for the night. Where is my guide?"
She had seen this far into the vision, so her neutral expression remained intact. Underneath, her chest burned and she exhaled, slowly. She had to be in control, because she knew, at that moment, she was the only mature adult in the room.
"I am not an 'entertainer', Mr. Crawford. I am the Assistant Secretary General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities, and I have received your eager request to hide your work throughout the country. Now, please, come with me. We haven't any time left!"
He looked at her, holding his chin in his hand, staring far too intensely for her liking. The golden Eye in his head gleamed.
"Cease with your stubbornness! Come with me, right now, or we shall perish!" Isis thought.
Pegasus lifted his eyebrows in amusement.
"So you know my Eye's gift? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised with what you have around your neck. So, what does your little trinket do?" he asked with a dramatic flourish of his hand. If Isis did not know what was about the happen, the next moment would have been met with a shot of adrenaline through her system, panic set on every nerve, but she knew too well what was coming, and unfortunately, up to that moment was all the Torque had wanted to show her.
"GET DOWN!" Isis shouted, leaping across the bed and grabbing the suit case. The momentum of her body slammed into Pegasus and sent him into the wall. Amidst his protests, she took hold of his head and held it to the ground where she joined him.
The window Pegasus had been standing in front of seconds ago shattered as an RPG sailed through. It met the wall on the other side of the room with an enormous blast and a burst of flame. The mattress may have been full of fleas, but whatever consisted of the bed frame was literally bomb proof. Not a scratch remained on either of the Item bearers. Ringing flooded both of their ears as Isis grabbed Pegasus by his scarlet red ascot and dragged him out of the burning hole into the hall toward the fire exit.
The building shook as more rounds were fired into the side of the hotel. People began to run into the hall, panicked, confused. Isis felt like weeping. Was Malik truly this far gone? Did he care so little for the rest of the world, all for his vengeance against the very King he was sworn to protect? The Gods could not fall into his hands if it was so.
"So, your own brother is behind this sudden catastrophe?" Pegasus shouted. "And you knew, without a doubt, that he was going to strike today? Did you even bother alerting the proper authorities? That's aiding and abetting a terrorist, you know! Do I need to report the both of you to Interpol?"
"I would appreciate it if you stopped reading my mind, thank you," Isis said, throwing the door to the fire exit open and charging down the stairs with Pegasus in toe. "If my Torque shows what is destined, then the path cannot be altered, for the path is set. The hand of fate lays still upon our world."
"So you just accepted what that piece of jewelry told you, knowing masses of people would be killed today? You're immoral! I think I'll take my chances and hide these on my own!" Pegasus reached for his suit case and attempted to wrestle it away from Isis' grasp. The two began to struggle on the steps of the fire escape, throngs of people pushing them aside.
"This 'piece of jewelry' is the reason you still draw breath!" Isis defended as more and more people violently pushed past her and Pegasus. "It is the same cut as the Eye in your head! When magic—Uff! When magic brands you as its own, you cannot—Ugh! Denial of one's fate is an exercise in futil—Ah!"
"I take it back. Ow!" Pegasus shouted, sweat dripping from his face from the rising heat and the continuing struggle for the God Cards. Isis had a monstrously strong grip for a woman so delicate in appearance. "You're not immoral, you're—Agh! You're crazy! Let go! I'll make my own destiny!"
"You tried to 'make your own destiny,' Pegasus Crawford, and look where it has led you."
They noticed the flow of people suddenly stopped.
The voice had come from neither of them. It was distorted, dull, void of humanity. Isis' heart sank as she beheld three ominous figures in purple robes climbing slowly up to their place on the stairs. They turned to run back up, but were met with three more men in the same garb. The Egyptian woman took note of the glowing Eye of Wjdat on their foreheads.
"You know this cult, I take it?" Pegasus quipped. Isis had never felt a stronger urge in her life to throw a man down the steps of a fire escape.
"Oh, so you're violent as well? It must be genetic."
"Please be quiet, and stop using your Eye," Isis requested. She stared, pleadingly, at the men climbing up the steps.
"Malik, I know you can hear me," she said. "Please, my brother, stop this madness. It hurts me, endlessly, but I can take the pain. The fault lies with me, I know this, but please, I beg you, stop harming the innocent."
"You have no fault, sister, with the exception of defending those who need to be punished," the men in purple robes spoke in unison. "The Pharaoh must pay. We have given too much of our lives to the dead, and if walking in the light means I must burn a thousand to attain my goal, then so be it. If you perish in the process, I can only accept it is your own doing."
A tear made its way down Isis' face, her lips tight, eyes determined.
"You will not possess the Gods, Malik. I shall not allow it."
"Then you will burn."
"No, we won't!" Pegasus interjected, shaking his index finger as though lecturing a child. He pulled several blank cards out of the back pocket of his khaki trousers. Isis' eyes widened.
"Pegasus, no!"
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"What a disaster..." Isis sighed.
Sirens blared in the background as multicolored lights bounced off the surrounding buildings and worried faces. Her back sank against a large concrete barrier until her bottom touched the ground, the suitcase close at her side. She removed the jade orb from her forehead along with the gold headband. She rubbed her temples with a grimace while she held her jewelry in the other hand. She could forgive Malik for misdeeds against herself, but how could she find it in herself to forgive him for all this?
"I think we got out of that pretty well, don't you?" Pegasus asked with a smirk. He leaned against the wall and looked down at her crouching form. It took all of Isis' decency not to glare back. She fixed her neutral expression before speaking.
"You challenged my brother to a Shadow Game. We both could have lost our lives."
"We were going to die, horribly, in a fire. It was our only option."
The silver-haired aristocrat held up six cards, all depicting pictures of the men who had attempted to restrain them.
"Your brother had a tight hold on their souls, but he didn't seem very experienced with his item. He held his own quite well against me, but he lacked some finesse during our little mind game. I didn't mind the challenge, but—"
"We must continue with our agenda," Isis interrupted.
"No question, at all, about their fates?" Pegasus inquired, fanning out the cards, waving them back and forth like a fan.
"Perhaps you are as violent as your brother," he teased. She didn't appreciate the attempt at humor.
"Their souls were lost long ago," Isis began, adjusting her jewelry back to their proper positions on her head. She lifted herself from the ground along with the suitcase. She gripped it tightly in her right hand.
"My brother, as you assessed, is still somewhat... inexperienced. Those he controls are predisposed to a weak constitution, broken long ago."
"But he grows stronger with each encounter..." was her thought.
"Now, for the last time, please come with me."
"Is it truly the last time?" Pegasus asked with guile. "Have you foreseen it, or are you hopeful I won't challenge you to a Shadow Game and run away with your Torque and the Gods when I am done?"
"I am aware you have witnessed the Gods' terrible power," Isis said matter-of-factly. "Executive staff in your research and development divisions mysteriously 'disappeared', and you have had frenzied dreams after long hours of painting divinity on a canvas. My Torque showed me that much, Mr. Crawford. You have done battle with my brother in the darkest realms of the mind. You see the damage he is capable of when he is left to his own devices, and you know full well what will be the destruction of all mankind if the Gods remain as they are, now, in the open. They must be hidden."
Isis began to walk away from the scene of carnage. Pegasus followed with a childish huff, bitter at the reminder of the Gods' wrath in his slumber, and also bitter at being bested by the humorless young woman, for the time being.
"All right, I shall follow you," Pegasus agreed stiffly, the Millennium Eye glowing. "But after this shameful display, I would like to call in my own reinforcements."
"As you wish." She nodded, and they were off.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"So, you are the Assistant Secretary General?" Pegasus prodded. They sat in the back seat of an OD green Lada Niva, ten vehicles of the same make and color traveling with them in a convoy. Six rode in the front of their vehicle, four in the rear. Small clouds of dust trailed behind them as they traveled into an expanse of endless sandstone and sky.
"Yes," Isis said plainly. She no longer wore one of her favored dresses, opting for a khaki blouse and pants of the same color, a pair of ankle-high boots to establish better footing on jagged stone and loose sand. Beside her boots laid a leather satchel with a canteen attached by a carabiner clip. A tan checkered shemagh wrapped around her neck, hiding the Torque from view. It was a uniform that allowed her more flexibility on excavation sites, and held a stronger air of professionalism among the working crews. At her side, she had a dagger sheathed in leather. The double-edged blade was a polished steel, the Eyes of Ra and Horus engraved on the hilt.
Between Isis and Pegasus were the Gods, secure in their custom platinum suitcase.
"You appear quite young to hold such a position. Don't you need a Master's for that sort of job?"
"The Council has been gracious to me," Isis hummed. "I am in the process of obtaining my Master's. For now, a Bachelor's suffices my career with the appropriate experience."
"The sort of experience that comes with dwelling underground in a tomb for fourteen years?"
She shot him nondescript stare. He already looked far deeper into her mind than she would have liked without her permission. She thought to attempt a harsh barrier with her Torque, but decided on another route. The man would keep prying if she placed more defenses, adding more undue stress to the journey and her mind.
"Very well, I'll show you what drove me to do all of this."
Pegasus delved deeper into her head with her agitated consent, then recoiled in his seat when she allowed him the worst of it all. Rishid, unconscious, blood seeping from the gashes on his back and forming a pool on the floor. Malik's transformation, unsheathing the knife from the Rod. Her father, wailing like a pig, skinned alive and pinned to the wall of the tomb. Malik draping her father's hide over Rishid's back.
"Oh..." Pegasus grimaced. "I didn't need to see all of that."
"Oh, but you insisted," Isis said, taking her eyes off of the CEO of Industrial Illusions and staring at the back of the driver's head. She would have been content with the silence, but without further want to use his Eye, Pegasus needed to have some levity in the air from what he saw.
"So... after all that... how did you end up here?"
"Why would you ask such a question when, at a whim, you could retrieve it from the recesses of my mind?" The calmness of her voice betrayed her true feelings.
"After what you just showed me, I'd rather hear the details from your lips. I believe you have the eloquence to leave out the gory bits if you so choose," Pegasus said with a hint of irritation. "I was just trying to have a civil conversation."
"By violating my privacy and peering into my head without my permission?"
"You willfully showed me that last bit, young lady," he said with a finger pointed accusingly in her direction.
"Mr. Crawford, if I may be so forward," Isis asked in a tone that didn't condone the supposed politeness of the request. "While you are some years my senior, I would be most appreciative if you didn't act so patronizing."
"Point taken, Miss Ishtar. I am something of an academic prodigy myself, so I can understand your frustration," Pegasus said with a shrug. "You have yet to answer my question. How is it that you've managed to do so well so quickly?"
"...I do suppose few archaeology majors are so fortunate to make a living from their interests," Isis said after some hesitation. "I confess there was some nepotism involved, along with help from this." She placed her fingers over her neck, gently brushing the cloth of her shemagh.
"You understand, yes?"
"All too well," Pegasus confirmed, moving his hand to gently flip the silver strands that covered his Millennium Eye from view. "What do you mean by 'nepotism'? From what I... saw, your family was quite restricted."
"You mean, not above ground?" Isis emphasized. "The tribes who survived the invaders of this country still regard those who have sacrificed for a greater cause."
"Invaders? Like..." Pegasus paused, thinking of a logical reference. "Belzoni? Napoleon? The European craze? Mummy parties and tomb robbing?"
There was a laugh, stuck in her throat and bitter to taste.
"This country was ravaged of its history long before the likes of Belzoni and Napoleon arrived, Mr. Crawford. My Torque shows what is to come, and while I've yet to master this skill, the past itself is an open book to me. Believe me when I tell you that I read that book quite often. Do you know how painful it is for an archaeologist to see what has been, but have no evidence in the present to prove its occurrence?"
"Uh..." Pegasus inched away from her in his seat. He sensed the beginning of a rant.
"It is a clash of literature and science. History is written by the victors, but when the victors wipe their enemies' civilizations from existence, we in the present only see what has been recorded or what has been allowed to be left behind. That includes the people, as well. There are not many Egyptians left in Egypt, Mr. Crawford."
"It looked to me like Cairo was doing quite well when I flew in," said Pegasus with a furrowed brow. A sharp sound, almost a hiss, left Isis as her hand rested over her neck.
"Arabs are not Egyptians, Mr. Crawford. They are no more Egyptian than the waves Macedonians or Romans who came before them."
"Is this going to turn into an ethnic rant?" Pegasus interrupted irritably. "Because that would make me very uncomfortable, Miss Ishtar."
"Having to show you the worst events of my life thus far made me very uncomfortable, Mr. Crawford. The notion will be returned," Isis said, undeterred. "It is not a matter of race. It is a matter of culture. My Item has allowed me to see cities and events that may as well have never happened. Eras and dynasties have risen and fallen in my eyes, and I have no way to share their occurrence with the world. There is nothing left of them to share. As for what is left..."
She turned over the words in her head, carefully, now gripping at the cloth around her neck and feeling the gold underneath.
"The so-called 'Egyptians' of today do not cherish what is left of Old Egypt, not as I do. The Council has more so become a lateral faction for the tourism board than it is an agent of preserving Egypt's history."
"...But there are enough 'Old Egyptians' today with your values that you were able to gain an education and employment with the Council. Your family, and families like yours, made it an enterprise to guard ruins and your Millennium Item filled in the rest of the gaps."
Isis raised an eyebrow in suspicion. In response, Pegasus held his hands up in a defensive motion, but his face appeared to be very blasé about the situation.
"Don't jump to conclusions, now. I did not read your mind. I merely used deductive reasoning. It seemed that was where the conversation was going. Also, with a name like 'Ishtar,' antiquities would be a likely specialty."
"You are correct," was all Isis said. The ride continued in silence and the two observed everything in the back of the vehicle except for the person sitting next to them. Pegasus' knee twitched out of habit and Isis stared out the window. She noted the position of the sun and the shape of the clouds above the sand dunes. The scene was familiar to her. For a brief moment, the Torque under her shemagh flashed.
Not good at all. She sighed heavily and held the suitcase containing the God Cards to her chest.
"Mr. Crawford, I advise you tuck your head between your knees."
"Now why would I...?" His flabbergasted expression quickly turned into a glare when he remembered the last time she gave him an order. "Oh, Jesus fu—!"
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"—cking Christ!"
"There is no need for vulgar language, Mr. Crawford."
"There is need for many things here!" he shrieked. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair and fell to his knees. "Everything is on fire!"
Suited bodies of the security guards Pegasus had contracted littered the ground alongside the burnt and bullet-ridden vehicles. With them were men wearing purple robes bearing the eye of Wjdat, soaking the sand with blood.
All but one of the armored Lada Nivas had been totaled in the chaos. The center Niva that had been transporting Isis and Pegasus retained the least amount of damage, as it was the only vehicle not in flames.
"They almost killed us!" Pegasus gasped. "Those men were highly recommended by my affiliates in the Emirates! They were supposed to be the best security money could buy!"
"Men with able bodies and ill will are capable of great atrocities," Isis intoned. Somberly, she looked at the purple robes of the deceased Ghouls flapping in the wind. She traced her thumb over the handle of the suitcase that had caused the chaos (or rather, the contents within it).
"Well, that's the last time I spend top dollar on Dubai!" Pegasus huffed, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head. "Next time, I'm buying American!"
Isis only stared.
"It's okay for you to laugh. That was meant to be funny," Pegasus said, getting back on his feet and brushing the sand off his trousers.
"You must forgive me. I see no humor in death."
"You could at least crack a smile," said Pegasus. "Out of some sense of pride. Once our driver was shot, I thought for sure we were goners! How you climbed to the front and took that wheel..."
He shook his head, both in relief and disbelief, attempting to recall the event as adrenaline ebbed out of his system. His hands shook as he gestured to her.
"Amazing! All that re-direction, that swerving, and, what do the kids call it? Drifting? Blinding them with clouds of sand! You were literally doing circles around them! Where did you learn to drive like that?"
"Have you truly spent any time in Cairo?" Isis asked. Her left eyebrow raised for a second before fixing itself back to her neutral expression. "I had a temporary job as a taxi driver before I attended university. Only for a few months..."
Isis repressed a shudder.
"I walk when I can," she confessed.
"Well, if antiquities doesn't work out for you, I will readily give you a position as my personal chauffeur."
"I can say to you with confidence that position will never be fulfilled."
"You don't know how to take a compliment, do you?"
After a moment of silence, they looked away from each other and assessed the surrounding carnage once again.
"So... how are we going to explain this to the authorities?"
"By reporting it for what it is: an organized attack on a government official. The next town is not far from here. We shall find a phone and I shall notify the appropriate channels."
"And where is this town?"
"Not very far. Roughly five kilometers west of our position."
"Five kilometers!" Pegasus whined. "That's five miles!"
"Three miles," Isis corrected him.
"Oh, pish! Why don't we just use the satellite phone that came with my security detail?" asked Pegasus.
As if she was expecting the question, Isis pulled out a phone with a bullet hole in the center.
"Oh."
"Yes," Isis said, putting the phone back in her satchel.
"But I abhor walking!" Pegasus whined, slouching in protest. "And it's hot, and I hate exercise! This beauty can't be marred by sweat! You were born in Egypt; you know the ways of the desert. Can't you signal a Roc down to move us?"
Isis' steely expression broke and she looked at the man sideways.
"A... A stone? To move us?" She wondered if the man was beginning to suffer heat exhaustion in the short span they had been out, or if she was missing something in translation.
"No, not a moving stone! That's stupid! I'm talking about a Roc!"
Isis continued to stare at the man like he had grown a second head.
"Ugh! You know, a Roc!" Pegasus began to flap his arms up and down. "Those huge birds that can pick up elephants! Can't you make a bird call to summon them or something so we can ride it to the next town instead?"
The reference finally crossed Isis' mind, but her expression did not change.
"Mr. Crawford... those aren't real."
"What are you talking about? Of course they're real! I read about them in Sinbad!"
"Sinbad wasn't real, either." Well, not the particular Sinbad Pegasus had been thinking about, but Isis wasn't about to spend time recounting the phenomena of historical events that influenced folklore. She didn't even want to correlate how Pegasus could have thought, in any context, that the tales were true.
"Sinbad the Sailor didn't exist, nor did Scheherazade or any of the events from One Thousand and One Nights. They are merely stories, Mr. Crawford."
The silver haired man had a look as though she had told him a kennel of purebred Tibetan Mastiff puppies had perished in a fire. Isis resisted rolling her eyes, instead settling for turning on her heel to avoid looking at him any further. She began to walk.
"If it is any consolation to you, Mr. Crawford, I have enough food and water to make the trip."
"Isis, wait!" Pegasus reached out to her and rested his hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him.
"I think you are a very strong woman, Miss Ishtar," Pegasus declared. Isis said nothing in return, searching for a deeper meaning beneath the words.
"Do you think you could carry me there?"
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"Why can't we ride a camel?"
"Because we do not have a camel to ride."
"But why don't we have one?"
"We did not pay for one."
"But we shouldn't have to pay for one! This is Egypt! They should be everywhere! We should just be able to climb on one and go! Aren't they native to the Middle East?"
"The camels we know today originated from your homeland, in the Americas. They migrated to Eurasia on the land bridge 5 million years ago."
"You just enjoy defecating on my dreams, don't you?"
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"I'm hot."
"You lost your hat in the attack. Take my shemagh and wrap it around your head, like this."
"Won't that make me hotter?"
"It will shield your head and neck from the sun far better than your ascot, and it form a layer that will keep you cool."
"That's just a fancy scarf. Scarves make you warm. You're trying to kill me."
"You say I am 'of the desert', yet you refuse to take advice from someone who has spent their life surviving in this heat?"
"I am simply saying, it's stupid."
"You are acting like a stubborn child."
"I am trying not to die."
"You are taking part in the very mindset that killed many of Napoleon's soldiers when they first came here. They refused to strip down their uniforms and wear the robes of the local populace because they thought they would trip over the garb in combat and it would make them look feminine. Nearly all of them suffered heat stroke as a result."
"..."
"Do you feel better now?"
"... Do you have one of these in red?"
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"Are we there yet?"
"We have only been walking for fifteen minutes."
"So, is that a 'yes' or...?"
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"IT'S CHASING ME!"
"Pegasus..."
"IT'S TRYING TO KILL ME!"
"Pegasus, please stop."
"YOU SAY ROCS AREN'T REAL, BUT THAT THING IS?! MADNESS!"
"Mr. Crawford, slow down..."
"IT'S SCREAMING AT ME!"
"Slow down... and listen to me..."
"I CAN'T RUN MUCH LONGER! OH, GOD, IT'S GOING TO BITE ME!"
"Pegasus, stop running!"
"GOODBYE, CRUEL WORLD! CYNDIA, MY BELOVED, I SHALL SEE YOU SOO— Oh, wow, it stopped."
"Yes, it stopped, and it would have stopped half a mile ago if you had listened to me."
"What is it?"
"It's a camel spider."
"Why did it chase me so far?"
"It was chasing your shadow."
"Why would a spider chase a shadow?"
"Are you hot?"
"...Yes?"
"So is the spider."
"Oh, so it just wanted shade?"
"Yes."
"... Can I keep it as a pet?"
"..."
"Why are you walking away?"
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"Why can't we ride a camel?"
"We've been over this already."
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"Isis, I don't think I could take another step. The heat, it's too much!"
"Mr. Crawford, please get back on your feet and let go of my ankle."
"How can you be so heartless? I'm suffering her—Aah! The spider is crawling on me! Get if off! GET IT OFF!"
"If you stopped moving..."
"IT'S IN MY HAIR!"
"Mr. Crawford! Come back! You're running the wrong way again!"
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
The camel spider stopped just behind Pegasus' heel to enjoy the cool of the shadow he cast until he had walked just enough to reveal the sun on the arachnid's body, forcing it to scuttle in shorts bursts to avoid the blistering heat. It appeared as though the creature was being tugged by an invisible leash every few feet.
"I'm exhausted, and my mouth is dry."
"Mr. Crawford—"
"I think I'm dehydrated!"
"I just gave you water a quarter of a mile ago."
"But I don't feel sweat on my brow! Isn't that a sign of heat exhaustion? Oh, no, I'm going to have a stroke, aren't I?"
"You are still sweating, Mr. Crawford. Observe the stains on your khakis."
Pegasus grimaced at the words "stains" and looked down at his uniform. As she noted, there were very noticeable, wet rings around his collar and under his arms, and he could feel his shirt sticking to his back. He didn't want to think about the condition of his socks and underwear.
"Ugh! Repulsive!"
"It's a sign you are adequately hydrated," Isis stated, not showing any worry for his condition. Pegasus didn't appreciate the lack of dramatics.
"Just how much longer is it going to be?"
It was Isis' turn to be unappreciative of the other person's expression. She tamed her lips from curling into a sneer and kept them even.
"We would have reached our destination ten minutes ago had you not been in hysterics running in the wrong direction."
"Can you blame me?" Pegasus asked. He pointed down at the camel spider in question. "This thing looks downright Lovecraftian."
"I thought you wanted to keep it as a pet."
"I do," Pegasus confirmed. "But that doesn't change the fact it's hideous."
Isis sighed in response.
"I'm afraid we may have to eat it, though, if we don't reach town soon. I'm starving!" Pegasus proclaimed.
"We will not have to resort to consuming your arachnid."
"And why is that? You have more rations in your bag?"
"No," Isis said with a shake of her head. She pointed just beyond the edge of their view. "Do you see?"
Pegasus squinted and rubbed his eye for clarity. He saw color.
"... Green?"
"Yes. Those are trees, Mr. Crawford. We have arrived at the Siwa Oasis."
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
Isis found that Pegasus could run quite well for a man who claimed to be utterly exhausted.
"This is amazing!" Pegasus gasped in awe. The stood now in a marketplace shaded by a verdant grove, the landscape a mix of cob structures and clear springs, donkey carts and rickshaws blending in sparse traffic with small jeeps along the winding roads framed by the spreading leaves of date and olive trees.
"Indeed. I advise trying some of the fruit. Many of the trees you see here have existed long before the Temple of Amoun. You could pluck a date and it would taste just as it did to a Persian soldier 2,700 years ago."
"Oooh, what's going on over there?" Pegasus pointed excitedly to a gathering of people clad in decorative robes in a circle. The beat of drums and chants thrummed throughout the air, a multitude of men swirling together in a massive circle.
"It is Thursday, is it?" Isis murmured to herself.
"Hm?"
"It's a Sufi dhikr circle," Isis clarified. Pegasus blinked and held his chin in his hand, absorbed in the scene of moving bodies. From a distance, they looked like a series of waves, human ripples in the scenery of the desert oasis.
"Sufi? Like the ones who spin?"
"That's what they're known for," Isis said. She began to fall into the role of a tour guide with a captive audience. "Their aim is to purify the consciousness to attain unity and communion with the Divine. They are characterized as the mystics of Islam, but their rituals and practices predate the religion."
"Where did the rituals come from?" Pegasus asked, mouth slightly agape as he found himself drawn to the movement and music. He understood, then, why people fell under the spiral patterns of a hypnotist so easily. He would need to develop some magic cards when he got back to America.
"It's a difficult topic for scholars to agree upon. However..." Isis passed a finger over her Torque, a glow on the dark pupil as she closed her eyes. "To condense it, somewhat: They have roots with the old mystics of Syria and Egypt, and some influence from Zoroastrianism. Many will argue otherwise, but..."
"You see it?" Pegasus, with some effort, took his attention off the ceremonial circle and looked at Isis curiously. She opened her eyes with a hum, frowning.
"We would have better empirical evidence of their origins if their shrines were left alone."
"What's happening to the shrines?"
"What is expected to be done to all things from Jahiliyyah," she said with a sudden sadness in her eyes as she stroked the gold of the Torque. Pegasus didn't appear to understand the cryptic hint and she sighed wearily.
"Such things are not of your concern," Isis dismissed with a wave of her hand. She had indulged too much with him. "I must make a call to alert my associates of our arrival. In the mean time, you are free to browse the markets. You may buy what you need, but please refrain from exorbitance."
"Do they have any pet stores here?"
Isis inhaled deeply. What did she just tell him?
"Oh, don't look at me like that! I'm not looking to buy an animal. I want to know if there are any cages for my little friend here." He gestured to the camel spider still standing in his shadow.
An ephemeral glint crossed the Eye of Wjdat on the Torque. Isis opened her mouth to form a response, but the words died in her throat. Pegasus noticed and lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.
"Hm?"
Isis snapped out of the vision with a blink. She attempted to cement herself in her stoicism as she spoke.
"Pegasus, such a frivolous purchase will not be necessary."
"And why is that?"
On cue, a puttering tuk-tuk passed by the duo and crushed the camel spider under its wheels. They both stared at the Solifuge pancake on the ground, edges of the legs twitching for several seconds before settling still. Pegasus pursed his lips together, narrowing his biological eye.
"Because that just happened," Isis said.
She made a motion to turn and find a phone, but stopped when she saw Pegasus' shoulders moving up and down with his breathing.
"You know..." Pegasus began lowly, clenching his fists at his sides. "My hotel room was blown to high heaven; I had to play a Shadow Game to prevent us from dying in a fiery inferno; my expensive security detail was annihilated..."
He lifted his head, but didn't look at Isis, raising his hands and moving them side to side, as though categorizing his thoughts and putting them into separate piles.
"I'm hot; I'm sweaty; camels don't come from Egypt; I'm famished; Rocs aren't real; I'm still hot; the end of the world as we know it could occur if we don't hide the Gods becauseyour brother is a lunatic, and NOW MY PET SPIDER IS DEAD!" He lifted his hands in the air before bringing them back to chest in an effort to gather the thoughts back into his being.
"Why won't this country let me be happy?"
"The suffering is necessary..." Isis muttered in Arabic, repeating a phrase she had heard not-so-long ago with a bowed head.
"What?" Pegasus asked.
"I am sorry, Mr. Crawford," she apologized, switching back to English. "I really must make my calls if we are to advance further. Shall we reconvene at this point in an hour? I believe it is safe to say we both need time to ourselves if we are to see this journey through intact."
"Am I driving you mad?" Pegasus asked with a small grin. "If you need space, merely say so. I can do quite well on my own, Madame Muad'Dib."
Isis frowned at the man's claim. After spending time with him in the desert and watching his nervous breakdown, she was doubtful of his survival without her there to guide him.
He took her frown as confusion at his newly bestowed nickname upon her.
"You know? 'The spice must flow.' It's from—"
"I have read Dune," Isis snapped in a calmness only she could muster. "I need not insight from Melange or the Torque to be doubtful when it comes to leaving you to your own devices."
"Well!" Pegasus said, placing a hand on his chest with a smile. "Truly, Madame Muad'Dib, I will be fine. Don't forget, I bear a blessing too." He tapped on his Millennium Eye for emphasis.
Isis placed a hand on her Torque, debating whether the word "blessing" was appropriate for either of their situations. Regardless, she nodded in agreement and turned away. The journey needed to continue.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
The hour apart did very little in alleviating Isis' mind. The calls regarding the bloody incident with the security detail and redirecting the burial crew for the Sky Dragon of Osiris left her more drained than the 5K walk in the desert with Pegasus.
Speaking of whom, where was he?
"Madame Muad'Dib!"
She almost cringed at hearing the nickname, and came very close to letting her annoyance surface when she laid eyes on him.
The creator (or rather, reviver) of Duel Monsters reclined in a chair beneath a large table umbrella, waving excitedly to Isis from a small restaurant in the market square. She almost hadn't recognized him from afar. He had completely done away with his excavation uniform. Around his head, hiding most of his hair from view, he wore a red-and-white ghutrah held in place by a plain black agal. Where his khaki shirt and blouse had been was now a brilliant scarlet bisht with gold outlays over a white thawb. He had also purchased a shaded-lensed monocle and wore it over his natural eye.
She slowly walked up to him and observed what looked to be a guidebook to Egypt in his other hand. He stopped waving and instead gestured for her to sit in the chair next to him.
"Mr. Crawford, you've gone native," she said, politely refusing to sit and crossed her hands in front of her waist while holding the suitcase, pulling her shoulders back with impeccable posture. He took the chair he had offered her and used it to prop up his feet.
"Yes, indeed! I thought very hard about what you had said in the desert about Napoleon's soldiers. So..." he said, elongating the word and looking over his monocle. "What do you think?"
"You look like a member of the Saudi royal family." The words weren't intended to be a compliment. Pegasus threw his head back and laughed heartily.
"Wonderful! In that case, you can have this back." He took her tan checkered shemagh out from underneath the red bisht and threw it at her chest. She resisted scowling as she felt it had been completely soaked through with his sweat and promptly dropped it on top of a passing donkey cart behind her. It wasn't worth saving. Pegasus didn't seem to acknowledge her discontent and continued to grin.
"I feel so much better in this weather! No wonder Lawrence of Arabia dressed this way," Pegasus said, before his smile disappeared and gained a wary look. "Lawrence of Arabia was real, right?"
"While the validity of some entries from his memoirs are disputed," Isis began, noting the worry on Pegasus' brow, "Lieutenant Colonel Lawrence himself was a real person."
Relief washed over Pegasus' face at the affirmation. Isis gathered the discipline not to roll her eyes.
Being able to see into the past, Isis knew that some of the events T. E. Lawrence recorded during the Arab revolt were fabricated. Yet if Pegasus was going to make the comparison, she wouldn't have doubted that the CEO of Industrial Illusions would have found pleasure in being bound and violated by a horde of Turkish guards.
"Hey, now!" Pegasus interjected, pointing accusingly in her direction. "That's quite rude, and even I know he made that part up!"
Her discipline faltered and her eyes widened.
"You read my mind again," she gasped.
"Don't act scandalized!" Pegasus scolded. "You shouldn't be making wayward assumptions of my personal preferences."
Isis didn't have a counter to that. Begrudgingly, he was right.
"Though I do suppose it is rude of me, also, to look into your head without asking," Pegasus said, glancing at the sky in thought.
"Yet you did so. You violated our truce."
"I don't remember agreeing to a truce, Madame Muad'Dib," Pegasus said, waving his index finger in a chastising manner. "I remember seeing rather unsavory memories from a dull past and deciding it wasn't worth the effort of prying."
Isis glared. How she wished so often her past had been dull. There were so many days she wished she could have swapped lives with a vendor in Aswan and sailed on the Nile in leisure without the worry of the Gods ripping the earth asunder. She could only dream of a past where it hadn't been tainted with old rituals and bloodshed.
"You are such a martyr, you know that?" Pegasus said, almost dangling his guidebook as he leaned forward. "How about we both take a dip in Cleopatra's Bath? That should clear your head and soothe your nerves." He purred with the last words and Isis shook her head with a sharp whip of her hair.
"We don't have time for that, Pegasus. My associates are expecting us at Fatnas Island. We must move now."
"Pity," Pegasus droned, lifting from his seat. "I'd fight you more on the matter, but Frommer's claims the cafes at Fatnas are worth the trip." He fanned the book at the back of her head as she walked away from him.
"While I myself would enjoy sitting down and listening to the storytellers on Fatnas, that is not our reason for being there, Mr. Crawford." She became more mindful of the suitcase she held in her right hand and momentarily thought of how absurd they must have looked: a young Egyptian woman dressed in khaki fatigues followed by a Westerner dressed like a Saudi waving a book in the air.
"Well, how about this," Pegasus said in a bargaining tone. "You go and hide the Gods on the island, and I'll stay here and take a desert safari until you come back."
"I am only hiding one God on Fatnas, Mr. Crawford," Isis specified. "Moreover, if it was not necessary for you to attend, I would not have brought you along with me."
"Actually..." Pegasus began. "Why is it necessary for me to come along when you've clearly made all the arrangements?"
"Your attempt to recreate the divine and bring them to the mortal plain was the catalyst for this event, Mr. Crawford. You brought the Gods here, with us, and it is only right that you should see them off into their slumber. I have foreseen it, and it will be done."
Pegasus rolled his biological eye.
"Well, I suppose that makes sense to you, but what am I expected to do when it's time for your salat?"
At this, Isis stopped and went rigid. She looked over her shoulder and for a moment, Pegasus thought he saw a lick of fire behind her pupils.
"You know, salat?" Pegasus gestured vaguely to his guidebook. "Prayers? I'm fine to observe it, but I just think it's odd for you to claim time is of the essence when I imagine you will have to stop what you're doing every couple of hours and—"
"I know very well what salat is, Mr. Crawford," Isis said in a low tone, turning towards him completely. "Just how much did you see when I revealed my history to you in the convoy?"
"Truthfully? The bloody bits. It was all rather unpleasant," Pegasus said with a sense of repugnance.
"Yes, it was," Isis confirmed with a strong frown. "What else did you take away?"
"That you were underground?" Pegasus asked, moving his hands in a pushing motion with the palms facing down.
"Yes, and have you any thought as to why we were underground, Mr. Crawford?"
"Because of... corruption?" That was as much thought as Pegasus had to the ordeal. He could feel the hair raising on the back of his neck as Isis approached him with a step.
"Corruption," she repeated. The word was flat, bitter. "I can use that."
"Use it for what?"
"An example to build upon," Isis said, taking another step. "Mr. Crawford, my family has been entrusted with keeping the Memories of the Nameless Pharaoh for some millennia. Now, with that in mind, that would mean that my family's duties began thousands of years ago, when Pharaohs were widely regarded as gods in the flesh. For what reason would a family have to hide from a world that shares their belief?"
"Well, that wouldn't make much sense for the time period—"
"Indeed, Mr. Crawford, it did not make sense. At the beginning of their task, my ancestors maintained the tomb and the temples in the surrounding area, in open view and glory of the sun for quite some time. However, as an archaeologist and bearer of the Millennium Torque, I can tell you with certainty that things change over time."
Pegasus felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He remembered her rant back in the Lada Niva and her commentary on the Sufis.
"Invaders?"
"If you want to be simple about it," Isis spoke quickly, venom tinting the edges of her voice. "Since the death of the Nameless Pharaoh in the Middle Kingdom, there have been armies from many empires who have dominated everything in their path. In their wake, monuments from the Golden Age of the Pharaohs became things from the Age of Ignorance and needed to be wiped from the face of the earth. So go the relics, so go the people, and with them, goes the history."
"Oh," Pegasus said dejectedly. He wondered, in that moment, how many people like Isis were left in the world, and what had been lost with those who didn't have the fortune of surviving.
"What choice did my ancestors have?" Isis said, instinctively brushing her fingers over the Torque. "I felt their anguish when they were forced to tear down their temples and deface their gods, but they knew the incoming armies would have no interest searching a place that already appeared to be in ruin. No harm would come if they hid underground; the Memories of the Nameless Pharaoh and the Egyptian Gods would be safe."
"... So I take it you don't practice salat, then?" Pegasus asked. Isis' posture crumbled an iota in response.
"My gods are old, Pegasus," Isis began, thinking of a prayer her mother taught her long ago. "I hold in reverence the Sun that travels across the Sky and brings warmth to the Earth to guide us by day. I hold dear the Moon that commands the Tides and the Stars that guide us by night. I take pleasure in the Wind that crosses the sand and cools my brow in my labors. I love so the Water that feeds the crops and gives me relief in my times of reflection. Above all, I hold highest in my heart the Nameless Pharaoh who is to return and save this world from lighting ablaze, and I fear the awesome might of the Three."
She held the suitcase between them.
"What I hold, Pegasus, is limitless power. You have felt them and you know they are real. We must make haste and hide them. As such, I will not spend anymore time speaking with you about how I refuse to bow to the severely deformed head of Astarte."
Pegasus stood there, confused, before fingering the pages of his guidebook. With a sense of finality, Isis turned and began to walk again.
"I assure you, Mr. Crawford, they will not put that piece of trivia in Frommer's."
Author's Notes: Isis, for all her mysticism, can be a bit of a know-it-all if you read between the lines in the series. As such, I can't help but think she would have some scathing comments on how modern Egyptian society turned out compared to that of ancient Egypt. There will be some more thoughts on that in the next chapter.
Madame Muad'Dib – For those who have not read the book, watched the movie, or watched the Thug Notes analysis of Dune, this is a reference to the central character Paul Muad'Dib, who could see the past, present, and an inevitably disastrous future all at once after munching on a ton of space spice in the desert for a while. Obviously, Pegasus thinks the name would be fitting for Isis due the abilities granted to her by the Torque, and perhaps an isolated hookah experience at university.
I guess I imagine Isis to be 18-19 here and Pegasus at 22. Clearly this takes place before the events of the first season, but it's a crapshoot just how far this adventure-fest happened. Things get out of whack for me when I try to come up with a good timeline because the series shows Isis and Malik playing Duel Monsters underground, which would put them at 11 and 15-ish when the crap show with Y. Malik happened, but Pegasus took the trip to Egypt when he was 17 and shortly created Duel Monsters afterward. So if he's 4 years older than Isis, then that means he had precisely a year of "reasonable" development time to make the game go global. Maybe Isis got a hold of the first booster packs when she was 14 before it all hit the fan?
I dunno. Screw it. It's fanfiction. I do what I want.