Enchantment
Chapter Two: If You Stay
In the secretive hush before dawn, Malik didn't find Alexandria nearly as unbearable. It wasn't crowded. If anything, the streets were peaceful. The last of the stars shone smoldering across the sky and, despite the grime and filth of the walkway, a refreshing coolness filled the air, a scent characteristic of early morning.
The blonde felt almost optimistic as he followed his new master. If beauty could still exist, especially in this wretched place, then certainly there must be some hope left over for himself. Where are we off to, anyway? he wondered. Certainly someone who wore as much silver as Ryou must live in a palace of great wealth.
As they made their way down the deserted streets, a strange rushing sound broke into Malik's thoughts. It wasn't like wind. Rather…
Turning the corner, he couldn't help gasping at what he saw. It was huge. Wide. Colossal beyond all boundaries of his landlocked comprehension. Majestic, shit green waves growing steadily smaller until they disappeared, glittering sunrise pink at the brink of the horizon. Malik had never in his wildest dreaming felt so small. The ocean was beautiful…beautiful and captivatingly frightening.
"I told you we were taking a boat, didn't I?"
Ryou smiled at his slave's astonishment. Of course, it made perfect sense that he had never seen the Mediterranean. Namu had grown up on an inland delta farm. The Nile was probably the largest body of water he had ever been close to.
"The voyage won't be too long." He gave the boy a reassuring pat, which was accepted with a slight flinch of the shoulders. "We'll be on the water two days at most."
Malik nodded but remained unconvinced. Two days in the absence of solid ground sounded like an eternity.
As they neared the harbor, Ryou's guards seemed to become more and more agitated. They tightened into a circle around their charge, peering suspiciously into the various dark alleys that surrounded them. Bypassing the blatantly gaudy ships of the elite, they made their way towards a seedier, decrepit set of docks.
The ship, christened the Rajiya Salam in peeling gray paint, was every bit as ramshackle as the buildings surrounding it. The sails were tattered, the hull leaky and encrusted with sea life. It resembled a pirate ship in every way, shape, and form. The crew, however, was nothing like the renegade maurauders of Malik's nightmares. They were dressed neatly, much the same as Ryou's guards, and bowed in greetings as the young lord made his way on board.
A man who must have been the captain stepped forward. "We are ready, my lord. Your articles and supplies have already been brought aboard."
The pale faced noble smiled, that wistful, endearing grin that Malik was quickly coming to admire. "Thank you, Mahaado." He turned to them. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"
Malik did not like the sea. In fact, he abhored it. The wicked roaring of the waves, the hull pitching about with each oar stroke. It was all he could do not to throw up. Instead of vomiting, the blonde found himself a little alcove near the stern where he spent the majority of the morning studying the workings of the ship. He was fascinated by the appealing tautness the wind had breathed into the sails. There they floated, crisp and white and billowing, against the lightening sky, flapping slightly whenever the captain decided to change direction.
Then there was the crew itself. Unlike Ryou's body guards, the majority of them appeared to be native Egyptians. They spoke in a familiar dialect and granted Malik a gratuitous sense of wellbeing.
Just who was this Ryou Bakura, he wondered, grasping the railing compulsively as they hit a particularly bad spot of water. A wealthy foreigner from Europe? Most certainly rich beyond all means, but then why this rickety boat? Why all the secrecy? They obviously weren't headed for Greece or Phoenicia. Instead, the Rajiya Salam hugged the coast, heading west towards Egypt's less settled regions.
Then there was what baffled Malik the most. Why him? Why was he here? What possible reason could Ryou have for purchasing him? The young lord didn't seem like the type of man who would want a bed slave, but hadn't Jounouchi told him that was what the wealthy that came to the slave yards were looking for? There was something going on here, a secret he would only learn when they reached their final destination.
Yet, despite the questions, despite the horrors of bondage and the tumultuous sea, Malik felt in his heart a bizarre sort of happiness. For the first time in what seemed like years, he looked forward to the future. Nothing could be as bad as the tomb keepers' crypt, as the forced march across the desert, as his brother being struck down in the prime of life. The boy had beaten all of that. He could overcome anything.
"Excuse me?"
Malik looked up, startled despite himself. "Yes, Master Ryou?"
"I…I suppose you're wondering just where it is we're going. Its not fair keeping you in the dark, so I…" The boy flushed and, quite suddenly, grabbed his wrist. "Do you hate me for this?" he whispered almost desperately. "For forcing you into this position?"
For a moment, Malik saw red. Hate? Hate could not begin to describe the rage he felt, the deep, festering loathing that consumed him. A slave? He was no better than livestock! To be traded and frittered away, a flesh and blood trinket of the aristocracy. The anger churned about inside him. It spit like fire, boiled with the fumes of the vilest miasma. Then, in a blistering, almost sulfuric rush, it was gone. What had been done to him was horrible, but it was not the pale boy's fault. He did not hate Ryou, merely the predicament into which he had been thrown.
"N-Namu?"
"It would be pointless to hate you, my lord. This thing…it is not your doing."
Ryou nodded and slowly released his servant's arm. "We're making good time. I'll bet we reach Baranis by noon, tomorrow." He turned, Malik thought, to go, but instead lingered, staring out into the misty plains of the surrounding sea. "And I am sorry. Believe me, if I thought there was any other way…but I had to do something! My brother, he…"
Ryou's voice was cut off by the piercing clank of the ship's warning bell. Almost instantly, everyone was on deck. It was madness, the likes of which Malik had seen only once, during that battle between Akunadin and the rebels. Weapons out, voices rallying for order, eyes scouring the horizon for the incoming threat.
"Out there! Coming on starboard!"
They could see them now. Three sets of creamy sails, flashing oars, sleek, sturdy hulls built purely for speed. Ryou gasped. "That flag…it's the sign of the Pharaoh!"
"But how can we escape?" a near hysterical sailor moaned. "This ship can't outrun them, and Ra knows the Pharaoh's men…"
"Silence." The captain, Mahaado, barely batted an eye. "It's true we can't outrun them on the open sea. However, if we can make it to the coast there's a possibility of losing them in the delta marshes. Their ship is much too large to maneuver there safely."
"C-captain! That's brilli…"
"Hurry! We have no time to waste!"
As if by magic, the panicked crew fell into order. They had a plan now, a glimpse of salvation. It amazed Malik at how they adjusted the sails, shifted the rigging, and began making their dash for the Egyptian coast. Looking out to sea, however, the blonde shivered. They were making good time considering the dilapidated state of their vessel, but the shore was still far off, and the ships of the royal fleet were gaining quickly. Certainly they would be overtaken before they reached the safety of the delta!
Thunk! Thu-thunk!
Malik stared at the arrow burrowed in the deck just inches from his hand. In firing distance already? In an inexplicable burst of paranoia, he scanned the boat for Ryou. He found him slumped against the railing, a bloom of crimson, blossoming at his shoulder.
He froze. So the young noble had been hit. It wasn't really surprising. He was standing out in the open, too astonished to have the presence of mind to get out of the way. What happens if he dies? Will they free me? After all, if my master has passed away…
'"What are you planning to do, Malik? Save me?"
His brother's steely gaze, betraying only the slightest hint of physical agony.
"I-I don't want to leave you! I can't…"
"Can't you? Tell me, little brother, do you really wish for death?"
"…no…"
Mariku, in the moment of his greatest compassion, had never been so cruel. "It is your choice, Malik. If you run, there is a possibility that you might escape. If you stay with me you will die."
So he ran, ran for all he was worth. Because Malik did not want to die. He feared the grave…and the almost imperceptible nod of his brother as he left him bleeding in the sand.'
With a strangled yell, the blonde leapt from his sheltered alcove and lurched forward. A volley of arrows flew past his head, but he kept going. He was sobbing, literally sobbing in fear. Never in his life had Malik done anything so stupid.
"Master!" Raising his voice to be heard over the crew's screams and the creaking of the ship, he grasped the lord by the collar. "Master Ryou, y-you can't stay here!"
Slowly, the pale faced youth opened his eyes. The pain caused his vision to blur and his already confused brain to fall further into shock. He stared at his new slave feebly.
"M-m…"
Malik threw an arm around Ryou's waist and, before he himself knew what he was doing, began hauling him back towards the safety of his hiding spot. This wasn't good. There was so much blood! Staring at the broken shaft protruding from the young lord's shoulder, he shivered.
"Namu? Namu, what's happening?"
The blonde did not reply but sighed in relief as they reached the relative safety of the lean-to type structure. Setting Ryou down, he tore a strip of linen from his tunic.
"Namu, where's Akefia?"
"He's safe," Malik murmured automatically. "Now lie still." In reality he didn't know if Akefia was safe. Hell! He didn't even know who Akefia was, but he must keep Ryou calm if he was to save him. It would do more harm than good to try to remove the arrow now. His main concern was to assess the injury.
"This might hurt."
As gently as he could, Malik used the bit of cloth from his smock to wipe away the blood from the paler's wound. He relaxed almost instantly. It wasn't as bad as the slave had originally thought. No major artery had been severed, and, as far as he could tell, the arrow's shaft had done a pretty good job of stemming excess blood flow after the first initial gush.
"Master Ryou!"
Mahaado was at their side in a matter of seconds. "My lord, what has happened?"
"I-I'm not…Mahaado, how close are the enemy's ships?"
The captain bit his lip. They're almost upon us my lord, but if we can just make it to the delta…"
Malik was suddenly aware of a huge shadow slowly falling over the Rajiya Salam. It was on of the Pharaoh's boats, he realized. The royal fleet was drawing near.
"Namu!"
With as much fire as he could muster, the blonde met Mahaado's gaze.
"Stay with Master Ryou and make sure he is not injured further. If any harm should befall him not only I but his brother as well will hold you personably accountable." With that, the brunette turned and resumed giving his attention to the ship and crew.
Malik looked down at his ailing charge. Once again, Ryou had lost consciousness. "A brother," he murmured. It seemed he had more in common with the lord than one would have thought.
Yami Atemu stood at the prow of his ship. They were close to the Rajiya Salam, almost within boarding distance! The crimson-eyed Egyptian smiled sardonically. In the name of the Pharaoh, the God King, Beloved of Ra, I will sink this vessel and make this rebel lord a prisoner of the royal court.
But Atemu did not relish thisthought. The noble on that boat was no insurgent, no mastermind of dissent against the Pharaoh. Rather, he was a child, a game piece needed to blackmail their real enemy, Akefia Bakura, ruler of the pirate city, Baranis. Still, he had his reservations. To kidnap a child? That was low, on the level of Persian barbarians and common thieves, but it was not Atemu's place to question the morality of the halfwit Pharaoh's advisors. He was a soldier. He would carry out his mission if it cost him everything he had.
"General Atemu, what should we do? They're trying to lose us in the marshes!"
Atemu frowned at his officer through a curtain of platinum bangs. "Follow them in, and quickly! If they get in too far our ships will be too large to continue!"
Sighing, the general trained his eyes once more on the dissenters' dismally equipped vessel. In a direct fight, they wouldn't stand a chance, but already they had made it to the mouth of one of the Nile's tributaries. Only the main sail could be seen, a shroud of white towering above the mangroves.
The brother of Akefia Bakura, Atemu mused. What a fate, to be loved by one so lawless and cruel.
"My lord!"
A familiar pair of smoky blue eyes stared down at him.
"M-Mahaado?"
Despite himself, the captain almost smiled. "You have awakened, my lord. I am grateful."
"But those ships…my…my shoulder!"
Ryou gritted his teeth as the pain finally began to register in his mind. Back on the boat, he'd…he'd been shot. But where were they now? No longer on the sea, that was for sure. He could hear the buzz of insects, smell the faintly bitter tang of moist soil. Only vaguely could the noble recall the day's events, and then, only in snippets. A deeper enigma seemed to overwhelm him, unwieldy and suffocating.
"Mahaado?"
"Yes, my lord?"
"Tell me, where is Namu?" Raising his head as much as his complaining body would allow, Ryou scoured the camp for the slave who had saved his life.
Saved me? Or had he imagined it, his agony induced delirium molding a familiar face out of thin air…or perhaps some darker, morbid essence.
"You called for me, Master Ryou?"
For a moment Ryou didn't look at him. Who was he kidding? Of course it had been Namu. But why? Why risk your life for someone like me? For Ra's sake, I enslaved you!
After another moment of silence, he forced himself to look into the blonde's eyes. "Tell me about it, please? About the escape."
It was strange, but Malik felt almost relieved. Ryou hadn't thanked him, but, instead of angering the slave, this liberated him. He did not wish to be a saint, to deceive anyone with a superfluous act of kindness. Dragging the paler boy to shelter had been a stupid, thoughtless thing to do. Not only could he have been killed, but now Malik and Ryou were connected. This complicated things. Escape had been rendered much more difficult.
Perhaps I could slip away at night, he mused, but where would I go? No. It would be better to bide his time and formulate a plan.
"Namu?"
It took a moment for the pseudonym to register. Then, with a jerky little nod and a light flip of the hair, the slave began. He told of the mangroves, of the salty delta swampland they had sailed into. As Mahaado had predicted, the Pharaoh's ships were too large and had caught up on sandbars almost immediately. Still, there had been casualties. Four sailors had died, six were wounded ("…including you, my lord…"), and now, though out of the Pharaoh's reach, they were cut off from the sea and would have to make the rest of the journey on foot.
Malik was surprised by how disturbed Ryou was when he was told of the deaths. After so long in the labor camp, sensitivity seemed…Rishid had been the same way. He was so gentle, horrified by violence. It was strange that, with these qualities, he had always been so good at getting along with Marik.
It was different with father. He was the only person Malik had ever met capable of hating his older stepbrother. But why? What was it about Rishid that the elder tomb keeper could not abide?
'"A pointless question, Malik. Our father hated everyone."'
But Mariku had been wrong about that. Their father had hated most people, it was true, but even he had a soft spot. It had been extended only to his youngest son, the baby in the family. For every time he had slapped Isis, whipped his adopted son, fought with Marik until both of them were hoarse and bleeding...for every atrocity he had committed, Malik could recall only one instance when his father had ever struck him. What resulted from that could only be described as worse than any nightmare…
"Namu?"
"Yes, Master Ryou?"
The white haired boy looked so troubled that Malik couldn't help feeling a rather large stab of empathy for him.
"I suppose…I suppose I must explain now why you were purchased."
Malik did not trust himself to reply, so great was the wave of bitterness that with one sentence had swept away his sympathy. He merely clenched his fists and waited, stony-faced for Ryou to continue.
Akefia Bakura was in no mood for letters. He had been up all last night, thinking of his brother, his cause, every last responsibility in his life that the lord longed, if only for a few hours, to forget. But how? How could he find time to relax when he couldn't fucking sleep? It was ridiculous. Every time Bakura closed his eyes…dreams, haunted laughter, eyes that mocked him with an emotion he was unable to identify… He couldn't pinpoint the exact date of when these visions had begun. All he knew was that, as time went on, they were getting progressively worse. It wasn't always like this, he thought. At first…
But no matter how much Bakura ranted, no matter how often he cursed and spat and pitied himself, nothing would change. The letter was still sitting there, lying, elegant and pretentiously folded, right in the center of his fucking desk.
"What the hell does Anubis want this time?"
Not caring if he ripped the delicate papyrus, Bakura tore impatiently at the seal. He snorted. Flourishes and curlicues, calligraphy so intricate it could hardly be read. Strange that such beautiful, if eccentric, handwriting could be wrought by a brute like Anubis. His true nature would have been completely disguised if not for one thing. It was the inkRed. Always red.
The letter, as usual, was written in code.
Menthu,
1000 head of sheep move towards the reliquary hill of Osiris' head. By new moon they graze. A capable shepherd guides them. Send more sheep.
Until the next beginning,
Apep
Bakura sighed. It seemed Anubis had finally decided to attack Abydos. It was about damn time. The city was in control of Seth, one of the Pharaoh's priests. Seth was a dangerous man, but he had few soldiers. If Bakura sent a contingent of 500 to aid the men of the Rebel King, the sacking of Abydos would take a matter of days.
The young lord closed his eyes, allowing the sunlight streaming through the window to warm his face. His alliance with Anubis was an unpleasant but necessary part of overthrowing the Pharaoh. Without him, Bakura would have neither the manpower nor the funds to do it. However, this did not stop him from hating the man.
Hate? No. He didn't just hate him. He loathed him, despised him, wished him dead with every fiber of his being. But there was no other way. The Pharaoh was a madman, lacking even half the mental caliber needed to govern an empire. Not only that, but he was the half brother of Alexander, the Macedonian conqueror who had taken over the Bakuras' European lands some twenty years ago. Because of this, their family had sworn revenge, unable to rest until the conqueror's bloodline was erased and their land north of the Mediterranean reclaimed.
Akefia had been taught this since childhood. Hate the pharaoh. Regain the family's honor. He knew no other path. Nothing, not even his hatred for Anubis, could interfere with it, the infallible law of a filial destiny.
Turning from the window, Bakura glared once again at the letter. What were Anubis' reasons for hating the Pharaoh, anyway? Had he too been wronged by the worshipper of Achilles? Or perhaps his motives were less complex. Anubis was a monster, a devil whose tastes were too sadistic even for Bakura. Perhaps he didn't abhor the Pharaoh so much as he lusted for war. The Rebel King, personification of Apophis…connoisseur of human misery.
Picking up the letter, Bakura saw that he had missed something. A final note, written in small letters at the bottom of the page
A Piece of Advice-
In order to trust a horse, you must first break it thoroughly.
For a long time the lord of Baranis stood, immobile and silent. Only his hands were trembling.
When this is over, Anubis, I will destroy you.
-TOT (Wow! I don't think I've ever updated this quickly. Maybe I've finally turned over a new leaf, but it's probably just a fluke… Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this installment of Enchantment. Some details may seem a little confusing right now, but don't worry. I'm trying to write this so that everything eventually comes together. Thank you so much to those who reviewed. Your comments motivate me to become a better writer.
Oh, one more thing! I realize there are quite a few historical and mythological references in this story. If you're curious about any of them just drop me a line, and I'll be happy to clear things up.)