Chapter Eleven: The Jordan is Waiting
Tea ran over to where Yami lay pinned under the giant bird. She brushed the ice off of his forehead. He had saved her life so many times, and now there was nothing she could do to save his. Isis was standing tall behind her, observing the body, knowing the truth and not wanting to be the one to tell it. She looked up when she heard Bakura a few feet to her left, dragging Malik. Isis gasped and hurried to where her brother was. Malik looked up at Isis with his lavender eyes, no longer frightening or frightened, but at peace. His hair was frayed and blood fell in a steady stream from his lips, and Isis knew at once that her brother was dying. ".isis.?" The cracked lips fumbled over the word, and Malik's sister held back her tears. "Don't worry. You will be all right. You saved the day. Don't worry little brother. You are here and I am here and that is all that matters." Isis got up slowly, and walked behind her little brother's head. Malik heard his sister singing. One of the Egyptian hymns they had learned as children. Her voice sounded far off yet beautiful. Turning his head to the side, Malik blinked his eyes against the darkness that was swallowing the edges of his vision. Kneeling at his side was an angel. The same one he had seen that day in Egypt. Her brown hair flew about her face, large blue eyes, blinked away tears, and two sky blue wings emerged from her shoulder blades. He closed his eyes a final time and listened to his sister's sad voice carry the wonderful melody of the Egyptian hymn in his native language. Why was everyone so sad looking? As Malik's final breath left his body, Orith shrieked as loud as he could, and everyone turned their heads. The great, horned head twisted to a breaking point on the creature's massive neck. Launching into the air and flying haphazardly skyward, the great dragon screamed. It was the most horrifying sound that could escape a living creature. Reaching the peak of his flight, Orith turned and began to rocket downward. Building all the speed that he could, the roaring serpent crashed, head first, into the Earth. With one final motion that waved from the long neck, to the tip of his tail, Orith, son of Canith, son of Baranth the First Dragon died. When Malik opened his eyes, he saw before him, what he had always wanted to see. The Nile river flowed along, reeds swaying in the wind. The waters were cold and beautiful, and the Pyramids rose before him. Not the decayed structures that he had seen in life, but the newly made wonders. Turning around, he saw his sister, with tears in her eyes, the thief, and his angel. The Egyptian knew that he must cross the river. He shook the tomb robber's hand, and hugged his sister. Then he turned to the angel. Her beauty was matched only by the moon at night, and her radience by the sun. She already knew anything that he could do or say. Her innocent face showed it. Suddenly, a victory trumpet sounded, and a great black dragon appeared. The serpent's bugle sounded loud and clear and wondrous. The great wings beat as Orith flew over the river. He turned the horned head towards Malik, saying to him in the language of the soul, "I thank you, my soul. I fly to the Wiers of my Fathers, come, you must cross. I shall meet you there. Without any more delay, Malik ran out into the river. The water was refreshing, and it brimmed with life. Fish swam about and the life of Africa surrounded it. As he reached the far shore, Malik's hands began to slip on the bank. Just as he thought he might lose his grip, two hands reached down to help him up. Malik looked at Shadi and Yami as they helped him up. Why were they here? What had happened to them? Before Malik's mind could question things, Yami took off the headdress worn by pharaohs and placed on the younger Egyptian's head.
"Malik," Said Yami "Your deeds in life have earned you many treasures here." As the golden ornament touched his head, Malik looked around himself. There were countless spirits that seemed to emerge from the Earth and Air around him. All of them were clapping, welcoming the newcomers. They were all what they could not be in life. Free, beautiful, rich, happy, full, loving. Every tree that was ever felled, and every animal that was ever shot, shone on the landscape. Orith flapped his great wings and trumpeted of glory, of Heaven, of God, of all that was ever pure and good.
Translated from Arabic, Malik means master, king, pharaoh, or ruler. He smiled. Not his old, sarcastic and malicious smile, but a new, happy and joyful one. He had always wanted to be respected, and appreciated like a king, and now he finally could be.
Tea ran over to where Yami lay pinned under the giant bird. She brushed the ice off of his forehead. He had saved her life so many times, and now there was nothing she could do to save his. Isis was standing tall behind her, observing the body, knowing the truth and not wanting to be the one to tell it. She looked up when she heard Bakura a few feet to her left, dragging Malik. Isis gasped and hurried to where her brother was. Malik looked up at Isis with his lavender eyes, no longer frightening or frightened, but at peace. His hair was frayed and blood fell in a steady stream from his lips, and Isis knew at once that her brother was dying. ".isis.?" The cracked lips fumbled over the word, and Malik's sister held back her tears. "Don't worry. You will be all right. You saved the day. Don't worry little brother. You are here and I am here and that is all that matters." Isis got up slowly, and walked behind her little brother's head. Malik heard his sister singing. One of the Egyptian hymns they had learned as children. Her voice sounded far off yet beautiful. Turning his head to the side, Malik blinked his eyes against the darkness that was swallowing the edges of his vision. Kneeling at his side was an angel. The same one he had seen that day in Egypt. Her brown hair flew about her face, large blue eyes, blinked away tears, and two sky blue wings emerged from her shoulder blades. He closed his eyes a final time and listened to his sister's sad voice carry the wonderful melody of the Egyptian hymn in his native language. Why was everyone so sad looking? As Malik's final breath left his body, Orith shrieked as loud as he could, and everyone turned their heads. The great, horned head twisted to a breaking point on the creature's massive neck. Launching into the air and flying haphazardly skyward, the great dragon screamed. It was the most horrifying sound that could escape a living creature. Reaching the peak of his flight, Orith turned and began to rocket downward. Building all the speed that he could, the roaring serpent crashed, head first, into the Earth. With one final motion that waved from the long neck, to the tip of his tail, Orith, son of Canith, son of Baranth the First Dragon died. When Malik opened his eyes, he saw before him, what he had always wanted to see. The Nile river flowed along, reeds swaying in the wind. The waters were cold and beautiful, and the Pyramids rose before him. Not the decayed structures that he had seen in life, but the newly made wonders. Turning around, he saw his sister, with tears in her eyes, the thief, and his angel. The Egyptian knew that he must cross the river. He shook the tomb robber's hand, and hugged his sister. Then he turned to the angel. Her beauty was matched only by the moon at night, and her radience by the sun. She already knew anything that he could do or say. Her innocent face showed it. Suddenly, a victory trumpet sounded, and a great black dragon appeared. The serpent's bugle sounded loud and clear and wondrous. The great wings beat as Orith flew over the river. He turned the horned head towards Malik, saying to him in the language of the soul, "I thank you, my soul. I fly to the Wiers of my Fathers, come, you must cross. I shall meet you there. Without any more delay, Malik ran out into the river. The water was refreshing, and it brimmed with life. Fish swam about and the life of Africa surrounded it. As he reached the far shore, Malik's hands began to slip on the bank. Just as he thought he might lose his grip, two hands reached down to help him up. Malik looked at Shadi and Yami as they helped him up. Why were they here? What had happened to them? Before Malik's mind could question things, Yami took off the headdress worn by pharaohs and placed on the younger Egyptian's head.
"Malik," Said Yami "Your deeds in life have earned you many treasures here." As the golden ornament touched his head, Malik looked around himself. There were countless spirits that seemed to emerge from the Earth and Air around him. All of them were clapping, welcoming the newcomers. They were all what they could not be in life. Free, beautiful, rich, happy, full, loving. Every tree that was ever felled, and every animal that was ever shot, shone on the landscape. Orith flapped his great wings and trumpeted of glory, of Heaven, of God, of all that was ever pure and good.
Translated from Arabic, Malik means master, king, pharaoh, or ruler. He smiled. Not his old, sarcastic and malicious smile, but a new, happy and joyful one. He had always wanted to be respected, and appreciated like a king, and now he finally could be.