Title - shadows on your walls: chapter 3
DF doesnt own yugioh or any of the characters herein. If she did, the tombrobber would get to win all his duels and rule the world, because he deserves it. ku ku ku.
I apologise for the time delay.. hasnt it been nearly a year? I had the end and various other bits of this done ages ago, but then the computer crashed and wiped itself and lots of horrificly time-wasting stuff just gotin the way (including an all-consuming DeathNote obsession). I'm finally bak to finish this though as I was scribbling away at it on a train and it suddenly just wrote itself. the shadow-plotbuny has awakened after its hibernation :) enjoy.
italics are memories, otherwise its in the 'present'. a line divider is a change of scene or time frame. This fic warrants an AU and blood warning.
3. Faces in the Flames
The missionary priests gathered large crowds in the centre of many towns, and Kuru Esuna(1), despite its reputation, was no exception; I had often seen men in robes preaching before the temple gates of the glories of service to Pharaoh, master and country; they appealed to our 'better natures' and our faith. They told the children that always edged to the front of such gatherings that there was no greater honour than to serve the Lord of all Egypt, and that to die in protection of your country would earn the name of the lowest peasant a place in the cherished afterlife.
As a child I listened intently to the magnificent tales the accompanying soldiers told of glory and blood upon the battlefields. However, as I grew, my ears turned cynical of what they said, for I had heard the thieves, the looters and the deserters speak too, when they slipped through the streets and lurked in the darkened watering holes of our town. Like their officers, they told of blood and murder upon the fields, but also of pain, filth and starvation, of the incompetence and cruelty of leaders, and whispered to inquisitive ears that honour can be bought or stolen; a life cannot.
Now I climbed the worn steps of the temple, slipping from each patch of shade to the next, hoping to avoid being seen, although I was much less recognisable as the demon-child with my face bowed and bone-white hair covered. White and red have always been the colours of death and suffering in Egypt: the tones of sun-bleached, infertile land and the stain of dried blood have marred my features since the day I was born(2) and so I was cursed. This I know, and thus Seth, the Devourer, follows me wherever my feet may lead.
Creeping into the silent depths of the temple long deserted by any followers, I entered the nave of the main hall and settled in the warm beam of sunlight that filtered down from the high slits in the west wall. It was always peaceful here, and I knew I would remain undisturbed curled behind the altar-stone, for none of those who threw sticks and stones at the 'Demon-child' would think that such a being would willingly chose to hide in a former place of worship, whether abandoned or not.
I was woken some hours later by a tramping of booted feet across the paving slabs.
'No-one. They'd probably burst into flames if they set foot in here, Godless people that they are.' A snort of agreement, and the feet, after a brief and inefficient tour of the nave, moved back towards the entrance, the owners pulling the heavy doors to after them.
I sat for a few moments, considering the voices I had just heard, before deciding that whoever the strange gruff speakers had been, they would be well out of the temple by now. I would escape while I could in case they returned and punished me for treating a place of worship so casually (although part of me wondered at theur own seemingly lax attitude toward the templehouse). I crept out from where I lay half under the altar cloth and realised I had slept onger than I thought; the altar candles burned low in the near-darkness, filling the temple with sinister-looking flickering shadows as the sun had sunk below the horizon some hours ago. Walking as silently as I could, I slipped over the cold stone, and retraced my steps back to the entrance.
A strange smell that stung my nostrils drifted down the dark passage as I walked. It smelt mainly of woodsmoke but with an unfamiliar bitter tang that made me want to spit as the smell of the smoke crept down my throat. I slowed my steps as I neared the main outer door, and hesitated. I had never seen the doors moved before; they stood constantly open as a symbol of the welcoming arms of the gods, and yet now they had been pulled to, with only a crack of hazy light shining between them. The beam was tainted a deep scarlet and I paused as more noises, as of a busy street, came to me through the crack, though the market should have finished with the sunset. A sense of dread came upon me and I suddenly felt trapped behind the heavy doors. I set my shoulder to the nearest one and pushed hard.
Ryou gasped in pain and clutched his head, his legs buckling beneath him. The temple walls seemed to vanish, giving a clear view of the dark street outside. But the hard sand between the houses was no-longer empty, nor lit only by moonlight. Flames leapt and sprawled in the night, great tongues of dragons and demons curling up in pillars of orange, gold and ruby high above, dancing and flickering on the walls. Two great burning pyres had been lit in the central street and the fires swayed to the beat of drums and hands, as twisting figures chanted to the flames.
Terrible writhing shapes and demons flitted before my eyes, rampant in the flames. The wild dancing of the shadows on the mud brick walls behind me and all around seemed to echo the shrieks of the priests; the chants that rose in pitch as they progressed, piercing through the night and summoning the Gods to witness what horrors had been wrought in their name and to praise the faithful followers for their devotion.
The flames of the funeral pyres roared, red as the blood they consumed, closer and closer, choking and blinding Ryou with their suffocating heat. As he sank to the ground, The shadows clawed at Ryou's hair and clothes, seeming to leap from the walls to drag the sobbing boy from his arms while other twisted shapes danced wildly, grotesque in their formlessness.
I hid from the fear at the deaths of all those I knew: my mother, father, uncles and baby sister, whose bodies now fed the leaping flames. I covered my ears to the blood-soaked cries and yet still they lured me; the high Priests' haunting calls clamoured in my ears that this was our purpose; the existence of Kuru Esuna itself and that all its inhabitants had always been destined for the swords of the pharaoh's men. It seemed they called to me now, to resign my soul to its rightful place and my mortal body to the hands of the priests and their great cleansing rite.
My heart shied away however and I concealed myself deeper in the shadows.
Ryou clung to the smaller form, burying his face in the matted hair to shield against the raging fires as the child writhed in his arms, sobbing now. The ground under his knees suddenly shuddered and split as if in an earthquake, and Ryou flung out an arm to catch hold of something – anything – to pull himself to his feet, on the verge of panic. His outstretched arm swung round in empty air before colliding with an object that responded with a metallic clang before toppling over. The pair were plunged into darkness as the fallen candlestick's flame went out, the other candles having already been extinguished, leaving only the thin beam of pale moonlight through the slit window to cast its ghostly light on the stone temple floor.
The child made a muffled noise and entwined bloodstained fingers in the folds of Ryou's shirtsleeves, tears still streaming down the flushed cheeks.
Ryou suddenly felt sick, his head still swimming from the stench of the blood soaked sands. He wanted out, wanted his own safe soul room, with its warm fire and plush carpet, its memories locked away where the blood and pain and sorrow couldn't hurt him.
Searching his mind, Ryou reached out for his home, mental strands twisting round the thread of his soul room. He clung to the vision, feeling its reassuring pull, as he was swept away from the burning crimson sand and its abandoned temple, to settle once again in the familiar peaceful warmth. He slumped against the side of the bed, only to feel a gentle tug on his shirt. Looking down at the crown of ivory hair, Ryou could feel warm tears seeping through to his skin. Helplessly, he let his hands come up to hold the smaller boy, one arm wrapping round thin shoulders while the other cradled his head, fingers smoothing the tangled white locks.
'It's alright.' Ryou looked carefully round at the shadows on the walls of his own soul room, dancing in the light of the small fire in the grate. But the movement was no longer threatening; the gentle curves of silky grey merely swaying to a silent lullaby.
'It's alright,' he repeated, with more confidence. 'Don't cry, you'll be okay. They won't find you here. Don't cry.'
END - c'est finis ;)
Asterisks: 1)"kuru esuna" - i cant for the lfe of me remember what the tombrobber's village was called, apart from Theif Town (in the horrifically bad dub) so I've made up a name.
2)"white and red" – in the original manga Egypt arc, the Tombrobber is shown with white hair and red eyes. I've kept this as his colouring because it's my fic and I think it suits him. :p
Anyone who's confused as to WTF happened there can email me about it. I'm not sure how clear this is towards the end, especially if you haven't been thinking about this for as long as I have. incase anyone was wondering about the relevance of the title:
(But) you see, I'm told that the place that you long for
Is where the shadows won't dance on your walls anymore
Where the nightmares will leave you alone
I'll keep the lights out, I'll tell you fairy tales
Whatever it takes to make you feel safe
I promise you now, they will disappear
I'll take you back home, they won't find you here
Lene Marlin – extract from 'Whatever It Takes' xxxxxx