La Danse Fatale
Chapter 25
xXx
Malik shielded his eyes from the waning sun, scanning the horizon with chagrin.
Of all his strengths, having a good sense of direction was not one of them.
He partially blamed his upbringing for that, being that he had not borne witness to the outside world until he was twelve. Needing to know the direction of magnetic north had simply not been a part of his early childhood learning. Shuffling up and down the subterranean corridors of the crypt he had called home did not make for proficiency in navigation. How he and Isis had managed to find their way back after their unauthorised jaunt to the marketplace that day, still baffled him.
It was going on two nights, now, since Malik was supposed to have met Sahar back at the royal residence. Although, time was skewed in this world. He wasn't really sure how long he had been gone. Either way, he knew that she would probably be losing her mind with worry, and it was only his own stupidity to blame. He felt terribly ashamed to have ended up in such a predicament; he couldn't even admit it to himself without feeling the heat of anger and humiliation.
Malik was lost.
In the Valley of the Kings.
In the Egyptian desert, from whence he had come.
Of course, he had never really had the chance to get to know his geographical location all that well, growing up. The day that he, Isis and Rishid had walked away from their lives as Tomb Keepers—no longer confined to a life of solitude and darkness—he had never once been tempted to look back. He had been seized by the evil power of the Sennen Rod almost completely, by that time, and though Isis had moved heaven and earth to reintegrate them all into society, Malik had only been bent on one thing—revenge.
Those almost-three years of living in the light had acquainted Malik well enough with modern society. Isis had procured a prestigious job at the Cairo Museum through the Ministry of Egyptian Antiquities, thus allowing Malik to attend public school for the first time in his life, in a reasonably affluent area of Cairo. Rishid, being Malik's primary caregiver while Isis worked, had an evening job cleaning at the museum. And all the while, Malik's internal hatred grew, and turned his soul black.
Malik had discernibly been acquainted with shadow games and dark arcana from an early age. He and Isis would play Duel Monsters well into the night—or, what he assumed was night, given that the only daylight he ever saw was through a small oculus in the ceiling—and she would beat him fair and square, nearly every time. His skill grew over the years, however, and even his strongest monsters soon became inadequate. His thirst for power grew deeper by the day, spurred on by the presence residing within the Sennen Rod.
The memories of those earlier years were rather fuzzy, in retrospect. The entity of the Sennen Rod had all but erased any notion of rational thinking, often driving him to such lengths that might be considered superhuman, without the power of its' aid. When Malik gained the knowledge that Isis was holding the Egyptian God cards on behalf of their creator—Pegasus J. Crawford, an American man residing in Japan—he had tumbled violently down the rabbit hole of obsession.
Every spare moment he had was sunk into learning everything about the creator of the Duel Monster game, the fact that he was also another Sennen Item holder, and that he had held a "tournament" of sorts, called 'Duelist Kingdom'. Duellists from all over the globe had flocked to Japan to take part, like bees to a honeypot.
One such duellist, was a boy named Yuugi Muto.
Holder of the Sennen Puzzle.
Pharaoh Reincarnate.
And thus, Malik knew that Japan was where he needed to go.
Like walking a tightrope, Malik went through phases of mania—periods of seemingly limitless energy, where he could go days without sleep, teaching himself Japanese and English, honing his duelling skills, and putting his vengeful plan into motion—and depression, that would see him plagued by black moods for days on end, unable to find the motivation to get out of bed, or even eat. He would often see-saw wildly between the two states of mind, which distressed Rishid and upset Isis even more, helpless as they felt to do anything about it.
Through it all, somehow, Malik managed to complete his schoolwork, and finished his first senior year on a high note, passing all his exams with perfect grades. It was then—somewhat conveniently—that Malik had planned to depart for Japan on the first day of the summer break, much to the protest of his siblings. Isis of course, had foreseen the future, and knew what she must do. Despite going for all the wrong reasons, it was in Malik's destiny to go to Japan and duel the Nameless Pharaoh.
By this time, Malik had successfully managed to brainwash enough wayward vagrants into following him on his quest for revenge against the Pharaoh. Even Rishid, Malik's ever-obedient servant, could not escape the lure of the Rod's irresistible spell. From the moment he set foot on that vessel bound for Japan, Malik's life would change forever—for better, and for worse—in ways he would never once have imagined.
From a child who had never seen the light of day—and whose name was not even listed on the government census—to a power-obsessed maniac, to a reformed, repentant teenager, to a famous pop idol, to a disgraced pop idol—in his mere twenty-four years, Malik had seen it all.
In hindsight, Malik knew it had been a ridiculous idea to try and exact revenge on a long-dead Pharaoh, of whom could never have known of his plight as a Tomb Keeper. Nor could he have known of the pain and horror and injustice that had been wrought upon Malik at his father's own hand, forced to read only the ancient scriptures, pray to the long-forgotten Gods, and lie strapped to a stone altar while he endured the agony of having his body mutilated—without the aid of anaesthetic, antiseptics or sterile instruments—by a man who had never performed such a procedure before.
However, none of that had prevented Malik from feeling as though the knife was being twisted just that little bit more, every time he saw that puzzle dangling ostentatiously from Yuugi's neck. The dark side of his being lusted for that power, stopping at nothing to obtain it. It was true that Malik had been responsible for more than a few fatal mishaps, during his life; his father, being but one of them. The lives of others had had no meaning, to him. It was hard to feel remorse, when your heart was so full of malice for a world that had turned its back on you.
The only shred of respect that Malik had had for anyone back then had been for Isis, and perhaps Rishid. The Rare Hunters, though—and other random vagrants, who he chose to manipulate as his mind-slaves—were a dime a dozen, and when they did not serve their purpose to Malik's liking, he carelessly flicked them off, much like he would do a mosquito.
Malik's own sense of self-worth, however, was contradictory, to say the least. During those manic episodes while he was possessed by the spirit of the Rod, he felt a great sense of entitlement to the power he felt he had been denied to him, for so long. He craved the ideation of the world kneeling at his feet, showering him with the praise and recognition that he felt he so rightfully deserved.
And yet, these egotistical trips of narcissism were usually always followed by crippling bouts of self-loathing, doubt and paranoia. Whenever the spirit of the Rod loosened his grip on Malik, even just a little, the real Malik Ishtar was able to claw his way back to the surface, and it was in those moments that Malik felt as though he was living a waking nightmare.
That this pursuit of vengeance was petty, and quite likely futile.
Nobody in the outside world even had any knowledge of Malik's existence, for the first twelve years of his life. Would anybody really even miss him, if he was gone? Not once, but several times, Rishid had had to pull Malik back from the brink of suicide.
Malik shook his head, suddenly.
He didn't need to be reminded of those dark hours. He still carried the weight of them with him every day, even though he realised that he had been freed from the bondage of vengeance against Yuugi Muto, a long time ago. There would never be enough ways to repay the Pharaoh and his reincarnation for bestowing Malik with their forgiveness, for all his heinous crimes against humanity. And though together they had successfully vanquished the darkness within Malik's heart, remnants of the evil presence still lived on.
That's why I've come here, Malik remembered. To end this nightmare, once and for all…
If there was one thing that Malik was good at, however, it was that he had an eye for detail. His falcon's eyes were sharp, and able to spot when something was amiss—like a dancer's position, for example—at the slightest inconsistency. It was what made him a good choreographer—and a perfectionist. His eyes, together with his intuition, rarely failed him. He could tell when someone was lying to him. When someone was faking it. When they were bluffing, or trying to hide something. He had won his fair share of poker games, that was for sure.
Malik was no fool, and yet, he still had a lot to learn, particularly regarding matters of the heart.
To say he was a confused individual, in the romantic sense, growing up, would have been an understatement. Malik had gone for so long unexposed to other people, having no idea how to forge normal friendships and relationships, that he simply had no clue how to interact with his peers on a fundamental level, let alone on a romantic or sexual one. Basic mannerisms, etiquette and social norms all had to be learned.
The fact that he discovered he found both sexes attractive during his first years of school in Cairo, made Malik assume that this was normal. After all, he had no other model to go by, aside from the obvious—and extremely awkward—lessons on procreation that he had received from Isis and Rishid, early on in life. That was, until he discovered how intensely conservative and homophobic the modern society of Egypt apparently was. From that point onward, he kept that side of himself buried, like so many other secrets he possessed. On the contrary, the young women in his classes could hardly keep themselves away from him, and he luxuriated in the attention.
It wasn't until some time had passed after landing on the shores of Japan, that Malik realised that the rest of the world was not at all like Egypt was. For one, people of the same gender could engage in romantic relationships without being criminally punished, for it. It was one of the many things he loved about his adopted home country. The wealth, the cleanliness, the infrastructure, the technology—all but to name a few—were among the other reasons. Living in Japan, Malik felt liberated.
And once this is all over, I will return. Malik thought, with new-found resolve. Sable and I can pick up from where we left off, and rebuild our lives. After everything I've put her through, I owe her that much, at the very least…
Something in the distance sparkled, then, capturing Malik's keen eye. Against the bland, mostly monotonous desert landscape, the glinting object appeared to be distinctly out of place. He picked up pace, jogging toward it, discovering that it appeared to be a metal ring of sorts, laying in the sand upon a raised platform. Frowning, he bent down to pick it up, but it didn't yield.
It was attached to something.
"Can it be?" he asked aloud, brushing away the sand and dirt that partially concealed the object.
The ring was, in fact, not a ring at all, but a door handle, fashioned from bronze. Malik brushed the rest of the sand away to discover another identical handle, next to it. His stomach dropped. They were both attached to a set of ancient wooden doors.
"The…Tomb Keepers…?"
Malik had sworn that he would never step foot back into the dark, damp lair that he had once called home. In fact, even going into basements or underground subways now made him feel edgy. He expelled a heavy breath, pushing his hair back with one hand, and stared at the all-too-familiar doors for a long moment. Anxiety started to peel up his spine. To be brought back to the ancient world, only to have to relive his past, was not exactly what he'd had in mind, when he had set out to partake in this venture.
It had been twelve years, since he'd left.
Twelve years, since he'd given a second thought to ever returning.
His life as a Tomb Keeper had died with the darkness, the moment he had stepped into the light. For what purpose should he be brought back here, now?
"Guess I'd better find out…"
Malik sighed in both frustration and annoyance and hoisted open the ancient doors. It was as if they hadn't been opened in centuries, the hardware rusty and crumbling. A small voice in Malik's mind questioned as to how these doors could have even been fashioned in this time period, given that it was a few hundred years before the invention of ironmongery, but, again, nothing made sense in this world. Time, space, technology—none of it seemed to be remotely logical. Then again, regular people who had had no experience with dark arcana couldn't possibly comprehend that any of this was even possible, to start with.
Any of it.
It amazed him that Sable appeared to be so accepting of it all.
Perhaps not calm, but accepting.
To live in the knowledge that the world of spirits did indeed exist, and that magic was very real, was no easy feat, particularly if one was a sceptic. Malik didn't have this problem, obviously, but to those who had not been exposed to spirits nor magic from a young age the way he had been, he realised it must not exactly be the easiest thing to come to terms with.
Malik descended the stone staircase with trepidation, leading to the main antechamber that he remembered well from his childhood.
"Hello?" he called, his voice echoing. "Is there anyone down here?"
Cold silence greeted him.
It soon became apparent that the Tomb Keepers' headquarters were deserted, having been abandoned long ago. In the little light that penetrated the chamber from the oculus above, Malik could see random debris littering the floor—pieces of broken pottery, torn-up clothing, old blankets and wrecked furniture. It seemed as though there had been a scuffle of some kind, or perhaps the inhabitants had had to leave in a hurry, for some reason or other.
Malik continued down the corridor, his eyes now having adjusted to the darkness. He passed by the chamber that would once have been his old bedroom. Instead of a pang of nostalgia, though, all he felt was numbness. His recollection of this place held no sentimental memories, for him. Only the day when Isis had taken him to the Outside—the day when blinding white sunlight had touched his retinas for the first time in his life—was worthy of remembering.
Malik walked into the main communal chamber, where he would often take his scripture lessons, have meals, tell stories, or play shadow games with Isis. Playing Duel Monsters was perhaps the only leisure activity that was permitted by their father, for it correlated directly with their cultural beliefs that someday, the Pharaoh would rise again. It was the one thing that kept Malik from losing his mind with boredom; playing games was his way of coping with the miserable, isolated life he had been destined to carry out.
Perhaps there were some memories worthy of remembering, he thought, though not many.
Malik paused. Ahead of him, was the prayer chamber. The place where he would be forced to spend time in prayer, or make offerings to the Gods.
It was also where he had received the Tomb Keeper's initiation.
Hesitantly, he approached the altar. Dried rivers of blood stained the stonemasonry, and his head whirred as he was hit by a spell of light-headedness.
"No! Father, please!"
Malik staggered, collapsing to his knees.
"I beg you! Don't make me do it!"
He looked up, and saw a man, about his father's age, manhandling a young boy into the chamber. Malik was startled to recognise the boy—it was him! Only…different, somehow…
"Mother! Sister!" he screamed. "Please, don't make me go!"
"You must be brave, Marik." Came a woman's voice, from somewhere in the darkness.
'Marik'?!
"Cease your struggling, at once! You knew this day was upon you. This is what you have been preparing your whole life, for!" The man grunted, shoving his son down onto the altar.
"Father, I'm frightened! I don't want to do this anymore! Please!"
"You have no choice, Marik. Now, take off your tunic and lie still. The less you resist, the more quickly this will be over with."
Malik gazed at the boy who was him, but not. The boy of his former self.
The boy of his dark side.
Tears leapt to Malik's eyes, at the same moment the boy began to cry.
"I swear one day, you will pay for this!" Marik vowed. "To be a Tomb Keeper is nothing but a curse!"
There was a loud clap! as the man backhanded the boy across the face. "You will say no such thing! It is an honour, a privilege, to be a Tomb Keeper! You would do well to remember that, boy!"
A black hatred—that Malik had seen in himself, many times before—filled the boy's eyes, darkening his features.
"I curse you, father! I curse the Pharaoh, and all the Pharaohs who come after him!" Marik raged, tears and spittle flying. "They will pay, for this! I will make them all pay! I swear it!"
"Silence! How dare you insult the Pharaoh and his descendants!" the man roared. "Insolent boy! On your knees!"
The man and boy suddenly faded, evaporating into thin air, leaving Malik alone in the dark, musty chamber, once again.
Sitting back against the wall, he took a moment to collect himself, bringing his breath back down to a normal rhythm, again, as he reflected on what he had just witnessed. It had only been a vision, in this warped world, to show him that his past life had endured the same kind of life that he had, as a Tomb Keeper, so long ago. The darkness and anger inside of Marik had manifested itself within Malik, through the power of the Millennium Rod, three thousand years later.
Malik shuddered and wiped his sweat-slicken forehead. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the cool stone behind him. One of the many questions he had wondered, since he was a boy, drifted again to the surface of his mind.
If his mother had still been alive, would she have put a stop to this insanity?
Surely a mother couldn't bear to see her child in such agony, at the hand of her own husband, no less? Isis, although she was not yet a mother, herself, would have given her life to protect Malik. She was one of the few people who would.
Malik often wondered.
Isis had only been four when Amenset had died, after giving birth to Malik. She only vaguely remembered her. Rishid had been older, and had been the most devastated of all of them, from losing her. She had been the only source of love and kindness he had experienced in his young life, after being left for dead as an infant. After her passing, Fakhr had been left alone to raise the three children, and though he was exultant for being blessed with a biological son, it did not make him a good father.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
As if the strict nature of his upbringing as a Tomb Keeper wasn't bad enough—subjected to living a life dictated by the scriptures, enduring ruthless discipline and cruel punishments if he merely stepped a toe out of line—Malik was put through what no child or human being should ever have to endure.
Receiving the Tomb Keeper's initiation was nothing short of abject torture, never mind calling it abuse. Malik always knew his father hated him—whether that was because he was inadvertently to blame for Amenset's death, he wasn't sure—but the day he had had those markings carved into his back, he knew it could not possibly come from a place of love.
No loving father would do that to their child.
Certainly, no loving mother.
And Isis and Rishid had been threatened with death if they dared to interrupt.
Not only had Fakhr inflicted unimaginable pain upon his son—resulting in Malik blacking out and vomiting several times—he had risked his life thereafter when Malik had developed septicaemia, when the wounds became infected. An urgent mission to a medicine woman on the Outside for antibiotics had been the only thing that had saved Malik from certain death.
That had been a grim time in his life, and it was around then that Marik made himself known. Mercifully, Malik thought, he had at least been spared the defilement of sexual abuse. He was quite sure he would not be alive today, if he'd been put through that, as well.
Why have I been brought back here, again?
Malik opened his eyes, and to his surprise, an object that had not been there before, now lay resting upon the altar. He frowned and got to his feet.
"What is this thing…?"
He bent down to pick up the hollow tube, which appeared to be made from solid gold. It felt weighty, familiar, somehow. It looked as though it would fit perfectly around his forearm, and for reasons he was unable to explain, he decided to put it on, to see what it would do.
He was right.
The item suddenly clamped itself around Malik's right forearm, and three wing-shaped projections suddenly shot out from the side of it, creating a fan-like arrangement.
He gasped in wonder. "What in the name of… Is this…a diadhank?!" Malik exclaimed, recalling Isis occasionally speaking of the ancient duel disks, from her visions into the distant past. "They really are real…"
Malik studied the contraption more closely. Engraved on each projection, he was able to make out depictions of what looked like Egyptian gods. More specifically, the goddess Isis, together with the gods Osiris, and Horus.
Horus, the falcon-headed God of the sky, protector of Egypt…son of Osiris and Isis, Malik thought, drawing on the facts from ancient lore. What does this mean? Why have I been given the power to summon these mighty Gods? Only the true Pharaoh has the power to summon Gods…doesn't he?
Malik made his way back out of the underground labyrinth, emerging into the light once more. A dusky lavender sky had fallen over the land, lending an ethereal glow to the pale dunes, beyond. Malik looked worryingly back at the stone staircase that he had just emerged from.
How long was I down there? It only felt like a few minutes, but…it's almost night. He glanced down at the diadhank, feeling just as lost now as he had done before he'd found it. On a whim, he patted his back pocket, searching. Reeling in both surprise and delight, he pulled out his duelling deck.
"No way!" He cried, exultant. "But…would these even work here?"
Turning the deck over, he thumbed out the first card. "One way to find out, I guess…" Malik placed the card between two fingers and swung his arm up to the sky. "Ulevo*, I summon you!"
A golden ray of light suddenly shot out from the card, propelling into the sky. Ominous violet clouds began to gather high above, followed by hundreds of light-beams casting down from the heavens. A thunderous roar sounded, as the creature known as Ulevo descended in a tunnel of prismatic light, landing with a thump on the sand in front of Malik.
One of the most powerful Winged-Beast monsters to exist, Ulevo was a hybrid of many different creatures, comprising the body of a lion, the torso of a man, the head of a jackal, and a pair of pearlescent Pegasus wings, sprouting from its back. It boasted three-thousand attack points and twenty-five-hundred in defence. Malik recalled it had been a favourite of Isis', when they were children.
"Creature, you are now under my authority!" Malik asserted. "I am here to defeat the dark one, known as 'Marik'. You will aid me on this quest, and take me to my allies!"
Ulevo knelt down in submission, tucking its huge lion paws beneath itself, beckoning for its new master to climb upon its back.
Well, I guess it wouldn't be the first time… Malik thought with mild irony, as he recalled his dark side fusing to Ra's head, during his duel with the Pharaoh.
Summoning some inner courage, Malik let go of a nervous breath and strode toward the monster, hoisting his leg over its back. He grabbed a fist full of its wing feathers, and held on tightly as the beast rose to its giant feet.
"Show me the way!"
The beast let out a primeval holler, beating its powerful wings as it ascended once again. Malik gripped on tightly, feeling suddenly weightless as they left the ground. Before long, Ulevo and Malik were gliding high across the Egyptian sky, on course for the ancient kingdom of Thebes, once again.
xXx
"Sahar, let's make a detour, on our way back. There's somewhere I want to show you!"
"What is it? Will it take long?" I queried anxiously, turning to look back at the palace absentmindedly. The sandstone citadel—that had become both mine and Bakura's prison—loomed forebodingly in the distance.
Yet another sleepless night—plagued by incessant nightmares and cold sweats—saw me bleary-eyed at the bazaar with Mana, early the next morning. At Sage Qar's request, I was to trade for a number of medicinal supplies—including those that I knew would help aid Bakura in his recovery. He was no use to either of us, in his current state. The only choice I had was to bide my time, try to get Bakura's strength up, and pray to any Gods that were listening that his execution would not come to pass, before we escaped.
Distressingly, there had still been no sign of Malik anywhere, which led me to the alarming conclusion that he must have been kidnapped. Though that thought in and of itself was enough to send me into a tailspin, I knew that the only thing I could do about it was to wait until Bakura was physically strong enough, so that we could escape. To do so alone would mean suicide—not to mention certain death, for Bakura. After all, nobody knew this ancient world, like he did. Without him, my hands were tied, and Malik's fate would remain unknown until we were both free.
"It's not too far out of our way." Mana insisted, nudging her horse forward. "Let's go!"
Once we had reached the fringes of the town centre and had been given clearance to exit the city walls, Mana urged her horse forward into a canter. "Come on! I'll race you!"
Ensuring my supplies were stashed securely, I set out in quick stead behind her, allowing my horse enough rein for it to lengthen its stride into a flat-out gallop. The sensation of the horse's hooves thudding against the sand rewarded me with an oddly satisfied feeling, as we tracked in a north-easterly arc across the titanic dunes. The sun had trekked well beyond its zenith at this point, the evening temperature cooling the baked earth, below.
We rode for some time, until the horses' sides were frothing, and came to an oasis to let them to slake their thirst. I was beginning to wonder how far this place was that Mana wanted to show me, when she finally spoke.
"It's just around here." Mana said, as we arrived at a seemingly unremarkable canyon. There was nothing to be seen for miles around—no landmarks, temples, obelisks or even ruins—just a long, narrow valley floor, flanked on either side by steep cliffs.
"I don't understand, Mana." I gave her a peculiar look. "There's nothing here."
"That's the point!" she replied airily, dismounting lightly from her steed. "This valley has been the spell-caster's training grounds for thousands of years! It's out of the way from everything for a reason; our magic can be dangerous, if not handled properly. When you're conjuring a new spell for the first time, it's kind of inevitable that something might go wrong."
I, too, dismounted, and glanced around at the cliffs surrounding us. On closer inspection, if one looked hard enough, gouges and scrapes could be made out on the rock faces, as well as scorch marks in the earth, as if some kind of white-hot energy had rebounded off of it, ages before.
Of course…Mana was a necromancer in training! As if a lightbulb had just illuminated in my mind, a stunning idea hit me like a ton of rocks.
"Master Mahad brings me out here often, so I can put into practice what he's been teaching me. In fact, it must almost be time for our next session, out here…"
I coughed. "Speaking of Mahad…"
"Hmm?"
"Mana…there's something I need to confess to you."
She looked perplexed. "What is it?"
I rubbed the side of my cheek, not really knowing how to begin. So, I just decided to be out with it. "I…I saw you with him…in the garden…"
Her turquoise eyes popped open in shock. "Wh-what do you mean?" she giggled nervously.
"I saw you with Mahad in the garden grotto, Mana." I repeated, a little bluntly. "I saw everything. And I do mean…everything." I felt my cheeks warm, as the memories of their raucous love-making flashed into my mind's eye.
Mana's eyes bulged perilously and her usually loose lips suddenly pinched tight, before her face drained of colour. It quickly returned, however, in the form of a rampant blush, and she collapsed to her knees, throwing her arms around my waist.
"Oh, Sahar! You must promise not to tell anyone! Our love is forbidden! Forbidden!" she shrieked, hysterically. "If anyone were to find out—"
"I won't tell anyone, Mana." I reassured her. "But, in return for my silence…I must ask a favour, of you."
She looked up at me, tears brimming in her sparkling eyes. "You…you're blackmailing me?"
"I'm not the type to resort to blackmail, usually," I sighed, trying to stave off the wave of guilt threatening to crash down on me. "but…I'm quite sure you wouldn't help me, otherwise."
Mana stood up, wiping her eyes and nose miserably. "Why not?"
"There's a man…someone I know, who is in prison inside the palace." I fidgeted, unable to look her directly in the eye.
"You know one of the prisoners?"
"Y-yes," I stammered. "and I…I need you to cast your spell of invisibility, to help me escape with him."
"What?!" Mana's mouth dropped open. "You can't be serious! Do you know how much trouble I could get into if…" she trailed off, realising she was now stuck between a rock and a very hard place. "But, if Mahad and I were to ever be found out…Oh, Sahar! How could you do this to me? I thought we were friends!"
"We are friends!" I flailed, trying to give her peace of mind. "Look, it would take too long for me to explain the full story, but…I don't know what else to do. I really need your help, Mana. I know it goes against everything you've been taught, and it would be disobeying Atem to the very highest degree, but…you have to believe me. There is an evil at work, Mana, and it cannot be stopped, without his help."
xXx
"Lord Aknadin?"
"Ah, Seth. Please, do join me."
Seth hesitantly ascended the steps, leading upward toward the chamber of sealed monsters. A messenger had informed him that Priest Aknadin wished to speak with him, in the privacy of the Temple of Wedjet. Seth wondered why this had given him such a sense of foreboding, why he felt more on his guard than usual, and why he had a hunch as to the subject matter of this impromptu meeting.
It was no secret that he and Aknadin barely tolerated each other's existence, often fighting for dominance during council meetings, resulting in fiery debates. While Seth's primary interests were in defending the kingdom and bolstering its defences in the way of infrastructure, Aknadin's area of expertise was in the offense, by way of artillery. The two opposing departments were bound to clash at some point or another. Seth knew he had no reason to fear the elder man, but ever since the day he came into priesthood, something about Aknadin did not sit right with him, and he had been unable to put his finger on it, ever since.
"What is it that you called me here for?"
"I have been speaking with Isis." the bearded man replied. "She told me of your vision…of the Oracle."
"Indeed." Seth responded, folding his arms. His hunch had proven correct. "What of it?"
Aknadin clasped his hands behind his back, gazing thoughtfully at the stone tablets. "I have reason to believe that she is not really who she appears to be."
"Our vision revealed very little information; the results were inconclusive, at best."
"And why was that?"
"If you were speaking with Isis, then I believe she would have already told you the full story." Seth snipped. "How does any of this concern you, Aknadin?"
Aknadin turned to face the tall young man, whose visage mirrored that of his estranged wife's with such intensity, it made his heart lurch in pain, at the memory of her. "The girl continues to be allowed to dwell within these walls, yet it is not certain whether she is considered friend or foe. Is that not a fallacy? That we—the rulers and protectors of this king and country—fare quite possibly living in the company of a spy, right under our very own noses!"
Seth ground his jaw, knowing he had a point. "There is no evidence to suggest that she harbours any ill intentions. Rest assured, she is being closely watched."
"Nobody knows anything about the girl's past, not even that blind old bastard that took her under his wing." Aknadin grunted. "The only thing we know for sure is that she harbours a powerful ka. So powerful that She can deflect the powers of our Millennium Items. That is the true power of a goddess, Seth!"
"State your point, already."
Aknadin turned to him, the hollow centre of the Millennium Eye staring emotionlessly back at him. "Sekhmet would prove to be the mightiest asset to any militia that Egypt will ever see, Seth. All we need to do is prove that the girl is a threat, and Sekhmet would be ours for the taking."
"You have no proof, Aknadin." Seth reminded him. "If you choose to harm the girl in any way, then do so at your own peril. Need I remind you, that to do so would be to directly disobey Pharaoh's orders. Besides, you would be a fool not to heed Sekhmet's own warning. You have seen what she is capable of."
"Then perhaps there is a way that we could…test…the power of Sekhmet, in a controlled environment."
Seth furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
The man's bearded lips twitched upward in a smirk. "You could say I've been working on a little…project, of late. Come, I will show you."
Hesitantly, Seth followed Aknadin back down the steps, then, veering toward the left, they entered a concealed doorway. Seth gripped the Millennium Rod a little tighter, as he followed the elder man down several sets of stairs, leading them to what appeared to be a subterranean battleground. Inside, Seth saw men standing upon large platforms—held suspended from the ceiling by chains—controlling what looked like shadow monsters.
"What in the name of the Gods…" Seth whispered, awed. "This can't be!"
"Ah, our esteemed guests have arrived." A peculiar little man in a cloaked robe then joined their side. "Are you ready for the show, gentlemen?"
Seth's eyes widened. "Who are you? Why have I not met you before?"
"I am Gebelk—Master Torturer and Overlord of this battlefield!"
"What…?"
Before Seth could finish his sentence, Aknadin had assumed a front-row position upon what looked like a throne. "Let the battle commence!"
"Aknadin, what is this?" Seth demanded, sweeping his arm toward the shadow monsters and their masters, who appeared to be criminal derelicts. "What have you done? Have you lost your mind?!"
"Silence! I have only executed your own idea, Seth, which was to create an army of shadow monsters! And not only that, I've taken it to the next level. By forcing them to fight for their own survival, the monsters grow bigger and stronger than they were before!" Aknadin declared with a maniacal laugh.
"You must cease this recklessness, at once!" Seth bellowed across the chamber. "I will not be privy to your sick and twisted games, Aknadin. You cannot make prisoners fight each other to the death for your own amusement!"
"What different does it make, boy?" Aknadin challenged. "Whether their ka is extracted by way of the Millennium Items or by duelling, the end result will be the same. Only, by executing it this way, the monsters have grown even stronger, before they are sealed!"
"If you do not shut this down immediately, I will inform His Royal Highness. He will not stand for this."
"Ha! Do you think that scares me? Our Pharaoh is weak, Seth! What has he ever done for our kingdom?"
"How dare you insult our king, like that!"
"Atem was chosen as our Pharaoh only because he has the power to control the Gods. A new ruler must also have the power to control powerful monsters."
Seth shook his head, flummoxed. "What are you talking about, Aknadin?"
"The time has come to call a new king to the throne, Seth—someone like you!"
Blue eyes flew open in shock. "What?"
Aknadin grinned maliciously. "But, you will not be able to rule the empire alone; which is why I have been creating this legion of shadow monsters, for you. It's all been for you, Seth!"
"I've heard enough. What you are suggesting is treason! You will speak no more of this, and shut down this operation, immediately!"
Refusing to see or hear any more from the deranged man, Seth hastily retreated from the underground chamber. He barely knew what to think. He knew the elder man had always been something of a power-hungry narcissist, but this was taking it to the extreme.
There is darkness in Aknadin's heart, Seth thought, with a prickle of disquiet. Surely Isis has foreseen this…or perhaps Shada sensed it with the ankh. Either way…he must be exiled from the Royal Council. I must protect Atem at all costs, and warn Sahar, before it is too late.
xXx
"You're looking much better." I smiled meekly at Bakura as I slipped into his prison cell, a package of food hidden discreetly in the folds of my robes.
It had been several days since I had discovered Bakura on death's door, and had revived him with the life-giving treatment that he'd so desperately needed. To my delight, he appeared to be gaining strength, though he was still painfully thin.
Over the course of the past few days, I had been sneaking down to bring him food, medicine and other necessities at every opportunity, under the guise of offering medical aid to the prisoners. Our conversations were kept to a minimum, however, as much as I was dying to discover more about my past associations with him, because—you know—I was married to him.
"Sahar…my trial is tomorrow." Bakura muttered gravely, sending a ripple of shock coursing through me. "If we don't get out of here tonight…it's over."
I swallowed a few times, attempting to collect myself. "I see." I said in a shaky breath. "Well…it's good timing, in a way."
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Enlighten me."
"Well, I've come up with a plan for our escape…kind of. Once we get outside the palace walls, though…" I shrugged my shoulders in defeat. "I still have no idea where Malik and Ryou are. I wouldn't even know where to start looking."
"Leave that part to me. How do you propose to get us out of here?"
In hushed tones, I gave Bakura the rundown on my plan to escape, with the aid of Mana's spell, 'Shield of Invisibility'. Though distrustful at first, Bakura slowly warmed to the idea of involving a third party, but only because he knew what the consequences would be for her, if she was not compliant. We made a plan to reconvene after midnight, to hatch our plan to escape.
Hearing footsteps falling in the corridor, I made to leave. "Before I go, there's something you should know, Bakura."
"And what's that?"
"I have…something inside of me. A presence, an entity… It's hard to explain, but—"
"Sekhmet." He interrupted. "I know."
My eyes bulged. "You…you know about that?"
"Of course I do." Bakura replied, as if this was already common knowledge. "They will come after us both, Sahar. Me—because I committed high treason, and you—because you are host to an unspeakable power. It's one of the many reasons why we live in hiding."
The footsteps became more apparent and the guard's voices could now be heard, as they changed shifts. Though I was itching to carry on this conversation, I knew I had to go. "Hold that thought, alright? I'll see you tonight!"
I hurriedly left the prison, my heart hammering furiously in my ribcage as I flew down the steps of the main hall, seeking shade in the cool camouflage of the gardens. I had to find Mana immediately. Our plan must be executed tonight, or this whole journey back to the ancient world will have been for nothing.
The afternoon had faded to twilight, so her lessons with Mahad will have finished some hours ago. I had a fair indication of exactly where she might be, however, and made haste toward the secret garden grotto. But, before I could get any further, a familiar voice halted me in my tracks.
"Sahar,"
I whirled around to see none other than the High Priest Seth, standing near the statue of Set—the God of his namesake.
"My Lord," I hastily bowed before him. "Please, forgive my intrusion."
"You were not intruding." he replied, in a tone that I couldn't decipher. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"I…I was just…" my mind fritzed, scrambling for a reason. Think, think, think! "…on my way to the bathhouse."
His blue eyes glimmered in the evening light, obviously not buying it. "Then you will not mind if I accompany you."
I tried to hide my surprise at his suggestion. Men and women typically bathed in separate bathhouses.
"If it is your wish…my Lord…"
Seth joined my side, and we headed in the direction of the bathhouses. Few residents of the palace were around, and I was thankful for that, however, my desperation to find Mana had now been hindered by Seth's interruption, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could play dumb for. My longing to escape from this place was fast becoming as urgent as Bakura's, and yet it was imperative that I continued to play along. One false move could prove fatal for either of us, at this point.
As we passed by the main bathing area, I flushed hotly in realisation that Seth was leading me toward his own private bathhouse, which was reserved for only the most esteemed members of the royal council—namely, Seth and the Pharaoh, Himself.
Why in God's name did I have to say I was going to the bathhouse, of all places!?
"My Lord, I do not think it appropriate…" I stammered, halting abruptly at the bottom of the steps, which served as a boundary line between the royal and common areas.
"You will join me." Seth snipped, and it was not a question.
Fidgeting, and knowing there was absolutely no way out of this, I acquiesced and did as he asked, like the peasant girl that I was. Making my way up the steps and onto the elevated terrace, I entered a richly-decorated, hypostyle hall. Inside was a long, deep, rectangular pool, cut from marble and filled with clear, bubbling thermal spring water. Breath-taking views of the Nile River and the desert beyond, could be seen in almost every direction.
Gracefully—and without any qualms whatsoever, it seemed—Seth let his glamorous robes drop to the floor, revealing himself in all his glorious nudity. A faint smirk graced his insultingly handsome face as he walked confidently toward me, before turning for the steps to the pool.
I averted my gaze before I had a nosebleed, thinking I've just seen Kaiba's dick!, and heard him splash into the water. It was only when he surfaced that I had enough nerve to look back again. Surprisingly, he was grinning at me—a stark contrast to the seriousness of his tone a few moments earlier, and a side to him that I had not yet seen.
"Don't tell me the lioness is afraid of water?" he mocked, flicking his wet hair back off of his face.
I set my jaw tightly. "It is not so much that, my Lord…"
"Then, why so hesitant? You need to bathe, do you not?"
"Your confidence renders me shy, my Lord."
"A fair beauty, like yourself? What have you to hide?"
Oh.
This guy.
Just like his infuriatingly narcissistic reincarnation, it would appear Seth also insisted on one-upping people.
If that's the way he wanted to play it, then so be it.
I glanced around surreptitiously, then settled my gaze back on the semi-submerged man, whose look of dry amusement hadn't changed in all but three thousand years. Steeling myself for the brazen stunt I was about to perform, I pulled the drawstring on my tunic, allowing it to fall to the floor around my feet.
The look that overcame Seth's face told me all I needed to know, his eyes glazing over in a lustful hypnosis. Smirking inwardly, I strutted toward the edge of the pool, swinging my hips suggestively, and dove off into the clear water. I surfaced a few feet away from him, treading water; my toes unable to reach the bottom.
"I believe lions are reasonably sound swimmers when the occasion calls for it, my Lord."
"I never said they weren't," his lip curled upward. "I may not know all of your secrets, Oracle, but I know you are not really who you say you are."
Crap.
An interrogation.
And my head was, quite literally, only just above water.
"Do you care to enlighten me, my Lord?"
"My first priority is to protect the Pharaoh from any known threats, Sahar." Seth reiterated. "And I am beginning to think that you are one of them. The beast that dwells within you is only part of the equation, isn't it?"
"I am not sure what would give you that idea, my Lord."
He swam closer to me, backing me into the corner of the pool. "You are not from my Kingdom." He hissed, lowering his mouth toward my shoulder. "Tell me where you are really from…time-traveller."
Double crap.
"You may have been given Pharaoh's blessing of protection, Oracle, but time is running out, for you. Whether you are a threat to our kingdom or not—you've outstayed your welcome, here, do you understand me?" Cobalt eyes probed my golden-green ones. "There is one among us that is out for your blood, and if you don't start talking, I may be forced to side with him."
"Aknadin," I whispered, fear hitting my stomach like a bucket of ice.
"Tell me the truth," he insisted. "and I will allow you to go free and unharmed."
I steadied myself, refocusing my gaze on him. "Kaiba…" I hedged, in Japanese, receiving a look of shocked recognition back at me.
"What did you just say?"
"Listen to me carefully, Seth." I continued. "I know you from another life; you will be reincarnated and live again in three thousand years. Your future self will not believe that you existed, Seth, nor will he believe in the ancient magic rituals of this time, even when he is faced with the truth. You are more of a man than he is…and probably ever will be."
Seth—registering the words in muddled confusion—jerked away from me, slashing backward in the water. "How…how did you just…"
I grinned. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
He merely nodded dumbly back at me.
"Good. Then…it's like this. Yes, I am a time-traveller, from three-thousand years in the distant future. I live in a country that is as-of-yet undiscovered by your people. I do not remember my life from this time; there is a lot I am yet to learn about myself. I cannot give you the answers you seek, Seth. All I can tell you, is that you were right—I don't belong here…but I am here for a reason.
"Someone I love, from the future, is in danger. I came back here to try and save him from an evil of insurmountable power. I don't even know if he can be beaten…but I have to try. You have nothing to fear from me, or the monster that lives inside of me. In fact…I would hope that you would consider me if not a friend, then at least an ally. As Mahad told me once, we are living in uncertain times."
Seth was visibly paler at this point in the conversation. "What language is it that you are speaking? And why can I understand you!?"
I chuckled. "Your reincarnation was able to read ancient hieroglyphics and was as confused as you are. I suppose that is why; you are one and the same person, after all."
"Isis and I saw you in a vision…" Seth trailed off. "You were with a man who looked just like me…"
"Kaiba," I repeated. "Seto Kaiba. He looks like you because he is you, Seth."
"Seto…Kaiba…?" the foreign name rolled uncomfortably off of his tongue.
"Oh! Why good morning, Seth. I did not realise you had…company."
Oh, sh#t.
We both snapped around to see Atem standing at the end of the hall, dressed in a fine magenta robe, that hung open in the front. His arms folded across his perfectly tanned chest, he gazed at us in wry amusement.
"Your Highness!" Seth exclaimed, looking from the Pharaoh back to me, then back to Atem again. "I…I apologise, my liege. Please, accept my humble apologies for…for…"
He glanced back at me alarmingly, groping for words. I could give him nothing, as my lips had pinched tight to stop myself from dissolving into furious laughter.
"No need for apologies," Atem chuckled. "But I would like to ask for some privacy, if I may. Might I suggest you do the same…?"
And that was my cue to leave.
The quandary being that I was naked.
In the presence of the reigning King of Egypt.
And his also-very-naked right-hand-man.
Thankfully, the Pharaoh departed, lending us some privacy as his deep laughter echoed down the hall.
"Well, that was awkward." I coughed.
"You will tell no-one of this encounter. Do you understand?" Seth ordered, his face awash with all the glorious colours of the sunrise.
I quirked an eyebrow at him. "You want to try and order a goddess around?"
He frowned at me. "Why do you speak so casually, all of a sudden?"
"You could say I'm sick of this pretending-to-be-someone-I'm-not charade." I regarded him deadpan. "Besides, this is how people… common-folk…talk to each other in the future, Seth. Having said that, it's a shame that Kaiba's not more like you, actually." I mused.
His expression portrayed a look of non-comprehension and slowly-building anger. "Have you lost your mind? Stop talking such nonsense!"
"Well, if there's one thing you still have in common, it's your temper." I rolled my eyes and pushed myself up out of the water, sitting on the side of the pool.
His face flamed, both at my nudity and my audacity. "I won't ask you again. Tell me why you're here, and I will see to it that you may go unharmed."
"No can do, I'm afraid." I replied, wringing out my hair. "You'll come to realise why, soon enough, but…by then, I'll be gone."
"Gone where?"
"Back to where I came from, with any luck." I stood up and reached for a linen towel, and my tunic. "Once I've accomplished what I set out to do, I won't exist in this world, anymore, Seth."
He stood there in the pool, staring at me staidly. Droplets of water fell from the ends of his hair, his nose, his chin. "But, I…I care for you, Sahar."
"You do?" I reeled. "Why?"
"Despite my curtness toward you, you've shown me nothing but kindness and compassion." Seth answered. "Your body, your smile, your spirit…day and night, it tortures me."
I stood there on the marble, dripping wet and still completely naked. "I am not the one for you, Seth…I'm sorry."
"My vision was enough to make me realise that." He replied, seemingly unperturbed by my rebuff. "You love a man with lilac eyes."
I swallowed. "Yes."
"If you tell me what it is that you must do, Sahar, then I will help you." He offered. "We may not be destined to be together, but I do not wish to see you get hurt."
"It's…more complicated than that, my Lord." I answered, thinking of Bakura. "It would be in your best interests not to trouble yourself, with me."
With that said, I shoved my tunic over my head and departed, before this conversation took a turn for the worst. Seth could exercise his powers as High Priest whenever he deemed it appropriate, and right now, I wasn't exactly rubbing him up the right way.
Despite his offer of assistance—in exchange for my reasons of being here—I knew I was unable to tell him the underlying truth. To do so would be to expose Bakura, and my loyalty was to him, first and foremost, despite the fact that he was a convicted criminal. But, I tried reminding myself, it was different, this time round.
She fell for it, Seth thought, watching the dark-haired figure slip away into the night. She confessed to knowing the man with the lilac eyes, which can only mean one thing…she has an affiliation with the most prolific tomb-robber in Egypt—Akefia, King of Thieves.
xXx
As promised, Mana and I met outside the prison ward well after dark, once the palace residents had settled in for the night. After my unsettling conversation with Seth—and cultivating something of a friendship with Mana and Sage Qar in the time that I had been here—I was feeling conflicting emotions about leaving, but knew that to stay would only mean failure. My mission would not be complete until we had found and destroyed Marik, and the four of us returned to the real world.
"Has the horse been readied?" I whispered, ensuring that everything I had discussed with Mana earlier, had been set into motion.
"Yes, ready and waiting. You would be best to take one of the back exits; the main entrance is too heavily guarded." Mana replied.
I expelled a breath, trying to shake off my nerves. "Alright. Before we do this, I just want to take a moment to say…thank you, Mana. This really means a lot to me, and…I'm so glad I got to meet you. All of you. I'm…really going to miss you, actually."
Mana grasped the meaning of my words, her shoulders falling heavy. "I'm not going to see you again after this, am I?"
I shook my head. Thinking of the Dark Magician Girl, I smiled. "Not for a while, Mana."
She sighed dejectedly. "I'll miss you, too."
We pulled each other into an embrace. "Remember what we said? The Royal Council are going to want to know what happened to me."
"That you left to go and look for your family, and not to come looking for you? Yes, I remember."
"Thank you, Mana." I smiled. "I hope I can repay you some day. It's time you cast your spell, now."
The young mage nodded, and raised up her sceptre between both of our heads. I closed my eyes, as she began to chant.
"Hear me now, master of spells,
Silence this night from the bells.
Alarm not those who stand the guard,
Nor anyone who prevents trespass.
For those who seek blindness from sight,
Cloak them in shadows with your powers of night.
To the naked eye, they shan't be seen,
'til dawn breaks the day,
Concealed by your enchanted smokescreen!"
I opened my eyes, and looked down at my hands, only to find…that they weren't there! I gasped inaudibly, as I felt a hand press down on my shoulder. It was Mana, who had also turned invisible. Together, we hurried past the guards and into the prison. Bakura, expectantly, was awaiting my arrival. I knew I had to move quickly.
"Bakura," I whispered. "It's Sahar. Come on, it's showtime!"
Bakura glanced dubiously across at me, then reached a hand through the cell bars. "Bloody hell, I didn't think this would actually work." He grunted, as he, too, vanished from sight the moment my hand made contact with him.
"Come, we have no time to waste." Mana urged, beginning to get agitated.
"I need to pick the lock first," I whispered, trying to jimmy the lock.
"Don't worry about that," she dismissed. "Bakura, you should be able to pass right through the bars. It's part of the spell."
Just as she said, Bakura somehow managed to pass through the bars separating us, and I wasn't of the mind to ask any further questions as we hustled out of the prison, outside toward the military barracks area where our steed was dutifully awaiting us. Bakura mounted the horse with a swift leap first, and then pulled me up on behind.
"Go, quickly!" Mana urged. "I haven't done this spell before! I'm not sure if it will really last until dawn, or not! If you want to get away undetected, you must hurry!"
Bakura nodded his thanks and turned the horse into the direction we needed to be going.
"Goodbye, Mana!" I mouthed, waving frantically to her, for the last time. "Thank you!"
"Sahar…we have a problem." Bakura informed me.
"What?"
He gestured down to our escape vehicle. "The spell might have worked on us, but it hasn't worked on the horse."
"Oh…f#ck!"
"Keep your voice down!"
"Won't it just look like a horse is trying to escape?"
Bakura snorted derisively. "Wearing full tack, in the middle of the night?"
I faltered. "Well…yeah?"
"We cannot go on foot," he remarked, almost sarcastically. "We're going to have to risk it."
"But, then we'll be giving ourselves away! We'll be caught for sure!" I protested. "We have to get off!"
"Don't be ridiculous; we have to make a break for it! We've already come this far!" Bakura argued.
While Bakura and I were quarrelling as to why Mana's spell had worked on us but not the animal, a flood of light suddenly illuminated the courtyard, and the sound of an alarm horn rang out. s
"HALT! IN THE NAME OF THE KING!"
xXx
Phantom: Foowahahaha! Can anyone say CLIFFHANGER!? Hehe…I do apologise. This chapter was already getting WAY too long, but hopefully it left you on the edge of your seats wanting more! We're gaining traction now, so keep a look-out for the next chapter, it'll be up soon!
*Ulevo=This is an awesome Egyptian duel monster that I didn't know existed, and I'm not even sure if it's part of Malik's deck but…it's bad-ass! Check it out on the Yu-Gi-Oh! Wiki page! ^0^