Awakening
Nekti gritted her teeth as she fought against the consuming fatigue. Her muscles burned with the fiery heat of the Red Lands while her skin was a layer of ice, the desert night covering her with its frosty breath. She was trapped between fire and ice. Her body cried out in exhaustion and pain. Its demands for rest were ignored as the heart and mind removed themselves from the weak trappings of the flesh. She was only dimly aware of the strong hands that gripped her waist and the sleek muscles of the giant silver wolf pulsing under her thighs, so concentrated was she on her single goal. Her mind, though beginning to numb from the strain of sustained tension, was surprisingly clear. The Shadows. She had to get to her son before the Shadows consumed him. It hungered after souls, even those of its own children, if those pitiable bastards of Light and Dark indeed possessed the ba and ka. It hungered especially the Dark children. She shuddered from the thought, though she was flush from the heat of exertion.
A vivid memory rose unbidden to the foremost of her thought. Her nostrils flared in remembrance of the unmistakeable odour of wasting death. The unclean smell of rot and decay pulled her into the memory's embrace. The prince lay on the sickbed, the slight rise and fall of his chest so faint that she had thought that Osiris had already summoned his ka from its earthly vessel. The thin hand was pale under the brown skin, cold as marble to the touch. She shied away from the memory, as she had at first flinched from the terribly still body. The memory persisted. The woman frowned at it in defiance. She had summoned the courage to walk through the lost paths of the Realm of Shadows and had emerged from its mists. But not unchanged. What she had seen... she stiffened slightly. She had faced the Realm once and it had terrified her, like looking into the eyes of a serpent ready to strike. She was afraid of this night without day, this darkness without light. But she knew that she would walk through a thousand nights to rescue her child.
//You will not walk them alone, my morning star. I will guide you.// The exhausted woman smiled and sent a mental pulse of gratitude through their telepathic link. The king responded in kind, filtering his emotions to hide his anxiety and frustration. He did not begrudge his wife her role, though it taxed her strength sorely. She needed this so it was his task to ensure she did not grossly overstep her own boundaries. Perched astride the silver Guardian with naught to do but flatten both their bodies close to the undulating back of the giant wolf, he allowed himself an admission. He felt helpless. With his own Guardian searching the dimensions of the Realm of Shadows, he could do nothing but wait. Wait for morning to come to lighten the immense burden on his wife and to await news in hope and fear from his Sage of Darkness. And he could do nothing else. The man's own frustrations were mirrored in that of his Guardian's. In his mind's eye, he saw the bright glow of the Sage's presence wandering in the dark places of the Shadow Realm in search for the lost child. The Realm was vast, the hope slim as finding a needle in all the sands of the Red Lands but the sliver of hope was enough to drive the Sage into action. He longed to roam with his Guardian; to get up and move his body, urge his limbs to bear him the miles that lay before him to Memphis. His fingers tightened their grip on the silver hair.
[Mu"allim.] A deep rich voice sounded in his mind and despite himself, Amenhotep smiled. [Azrak, no need for formalities. What is it?]
[I have searched everywhere and I have found nothing.] Amenhotep had no words to answer. Relief and the cold fingers of dread swirled in his mind. The Sage ventured on. [There is one possibility, however, that I have not sought.]
[What is it?]
[Perhaps your son is not in the Realm itself, but in an extension of the Realm of his own making: the Seat of his Ba.]
[Is there any way for you to access his Seat?]
[No. It is impossible for any save your son's Guardian to directly access the Seat from the Realm.]
Amenhotep narrowed his eyes in thought as his mind formulated a course of action. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind of distracting thoughts and emotions. [Azrak, you must transport us to the palace. There is someone there that may be of help.]
The Guardian acquiesced. Amenhotep felt the Sage close his mind on their connection, reaching for the thread that joined Partner and Guardian. There was a heavy pull on Azrak's end and an odd sensation of shortening the thread, as if it were a tangible rope between the two entities. Amenhotep guided the Sage's spell of binding by pulling lightly on his own end of the thread, stopping when he felt his wife's Silver Guardian lope to a halt as the powerful Magician materialized. Gently disentangling his fingers from the matted silver hair, Amenhotep dismounted the giant wolf and placed a hand on her muzzle, pushing the wet nose down slightly to gaze into the intelligent amber eyes of the Guardian.
[My thanks for your service, Silver Fang. Azrak will bear us to the palace.] The liquid eyes smiled. The wolf turned her head to nuzzle her Partner, who still sat rigidly upon her back. Amenhotep reached out to lift his wife down, aided by encouraging nudges from Nekti's Guardian. Nekti made a weak move to protest.
/Let her go. You are too tired to sustain her any longer./
/But who is searching for Yami if your Guardian is taking us to the palace?/
/Azrak has searched the entire Realm. He suspects that our son's Ba may have taken temporary residence in his Seat and he is does not have the experience to return it to his body. That would be the only explanation for his current state./ And our last hope, he thought to himself privately as he shifted his wife's weight in his arms for a better grip. He was glad that she was too tired to demand to be put on her feet. There was a whisper of wind whistling through dense fur as the Silver Guardian disappeared into the darkness.
The man closed his tired blood-red eyes and nodded. With a soft chant, the Dark Magic of the Sage engulfed him. He felt the golden desert lurch like a camel clumsily rising from its knees then race backwards faster than the wind, the city of Memphis jolting around them after a small fraction of a moment. Amenhotep ignored the similar lurch in his stomach as he stumbled slightly from the disorientation. Recovering quickly, he brushed off Azrak's concern and declined the Guardian's silent offer to carry his wife. He needed to feel her weight in his arms as much as she needed to feel his arms around him.
The king and the Guardian glided quickly down the halls. Guards stared at them quizzically, wondering at the absence of the king's company and the state of their queen though they posed no questions to their Majesty. Amenhotep and Azrak turned and twisted in the labyrinth of rooms and halls until they reached a non-descript clay door decorated with a finely painted golden eye of Horus. Before they could announce their arrival, the door opened and out stepped a man. Though the night was yet old, he was dressed in loose desert robes of white, his sand-blond hair hidden beneath a turban. In one hand, he clutched a golden ankh, the smooth metal surface winking even in the dimness of the hallway. The storm-grey eyes were clear and awake, calm and smooth as the flat planes of the ankh he held.
"Golden One, I am at your service." The turbaned man held his posture.
The king frowned in confusion. "How did you know I required your service?"
The grey-eyed man smiled. A flap of wings behind him and a falcon landed on his shoulder. "A little bird told me." The smile melted into intense solemnity. "Come, we need to hurry." He stepped between the Guardian and the king with surprising quickness, beckoning for them to follow.
Threading their way through the corridors, the group made their way to the prince's rooms. Amenhotep put his wife down at her insistence, though he held her close with a strong arm around her waist for balance. The nursery was lit by wicks dipped in pungent oils. The bed was surrounded by servants assisting three healers, who were absorbed in quiet discussion amongst themselves as they studied their young charge. The conversation ended abruptly in mid sentence at the entrance of the king as they descended to their knees and touched their heads to the ground.
"Lord and Lady of the Two Lands."
"Your task here is done. You may leave. We have wish to be alone with the prince." Bidding them to rise and leave, Amenhotep approached the bed slowly, helping his wife walk though she trembled slightly with exhaustion. A small figure lay on the clean white sheets, the eyes half-closed in a strange state between dream and waking. Nekti reached out to caress the cold cheek.
Another memory stirred within her.
The girl cautiously approached the bed attended by many servants. The same dreadful odour of decay pervaded her nostrils though the invasive scent of healing clouded the air like a cloak. Dull crimson eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, half-closed in the strange state between dream and waking. Her purple eyes gazed intently at the red ones, absorbed in the bloody depths of the iris. Lost in the swirl of crimson, the room faded, leaving only the redness. It pulled at her, tried to draw her into its vortex of fire. It sucked hungrily at the purple; she could not tear away. She resisted its vacuum, trying to twist her body away from the center of the gyrating red mass, which she could sense more than see was a deep dark consuming nothingness. It drained her, left her empty. Gasping, she used her hands to claw, as a drowning man does to reach the dancing ghosts of light that play teasingly at the water's surface.
The girl was starting to tire. She drifted slowly towards the darkness that waited impatiently to claim its prize. Panic rose in her, like bubbles of gas that burst violently from the drowner's lungs. A silent scream contorted the fluid red walls of the vortex as the girl approached the darkness's gaping mouth. Suddenly, she felt a searing hot pain race through her veins, concentrating on her forehead. The fire swelled and exploded from her, banishing the darkness. Then, blackness descended to meet her as her eyes involuntarily closed.
"Yami." Nekti sat down on the bed as her husband released her gently. She stared into her son's half-lidded eyes. Crimson, like the crimson that had pulled her into itself so long ago.
Amenhotep nodded to the white-clad man, who stepped up to the bed. Nekti withdrew her hand and sat back, allowing the man to work. The round end of the golden ankh hovered briefly before coming to rest gently on the tip of the child's nose. A low hum of quietly murmured words issued from the man's lips as his grey eyes closed. He remained bent over the child, his body frozen in position as he freed his ba from its physical anchor. The disconnected part of him drifted in a moment's hesitation before finding a path down the golden length of the ankh. With a tendril of magic, the man beckoned the bas of the king and queen to follow. He noted that the Guardian had already amalgamated his own magic with that of the ankh, so he concentrated on guiding Amenhotep and Nekti. The ankh shimmered under the weight of the three bas then settled. The room was completely still, the bodies of its occupants frozen in space.
~~~~~
"What are you doing here?" The judge opened his grey eyes to see a purple- clad figure standing in the physical manifestation of the prince's Seat. Ice-blue eyes were narrowed calmly; the intensity of the gaze was incongruous with the youth that the figure displayed and gave the judge a moment's pause as he assessed this new challenge. It was obvious from the man's stance that he was a warrior, muscles lightly tense but under taut control. He stood with one foot slightly ahead of the other in a defensive stand in between the intruder and the sleeping boy. Even as he made his observations, the judge felt the gaze of the other repaying the action. He stayed perfectly still as he was in turn surveyed by the warrior, letting his glance flicker to the object of the warrior's protection to betray his intentions.
"We may ask the same question, apprentice. You have no right to be here." The judge turned his head slightly, only just noticing that the Sage must have arrived the same time he did. The king's Guardian stepped between the judge and the warrior. Blue eyes locked on blue for a moment before the warrior lowered his head.
"Elder," the warrior acknowledged. There was a ripple of magic as Amenhotep and Nekti entered the room. The parents rushed to their son's side despite the presence of the warrior. Nekti gathered the sleeping form in her arms and held him close, biting back the tears. The boy began to stir, squirming in his mother's embrace.
"Do not touch him. He needs his rest." The warrior attempted to reach the boy but Amenhotep stepped in between before Azrak could speak.
"Who are you to be telling us what to do?" he spat in anger. "What is your business here?" The livid red eyes were on fire and he drew himself to full imperious height. A dark Eye of Horus glowed on his forehead. The warrior offered nothing in response, his calm demeanour further stoking the fury of the king.
"What have you done with my son?" Amenhotep could feel magic emanate from the warrior, though it strength was nowhere near as strong as the Magic required to enter a Seat of the Ba unbidden. Yet, there he stood, unmoving and silent to questions that he had obligation to answer. The Eye flamed to life. The king would not stand this insolence! Amenhotep raised his hand to mete out punishment.
"Mu"allim, he is one of my people. I ask for the right to deal with him." Amenhotep turned his angry red eyes on his Guardian.
[You expect me to let him go after what he did to my son?!]
[Please Amenhotep. There is no proof that he has hurt your son. I understand your anger-]
[You cannot possibly understand my anger.]
[Perhaps I cannot understand it but I feel it as keenly as you do! I do not blame your anger but he is one of my own and it would be injustice to punish him without first letting him speak.]
The human and his Guardian glared at each other, lost in argument. Seeing that their attentions were momentarily diverted from his person, the warrior risked a glance at the bed. The woman was holding her son and crying softly, while the grey-eyed man had a hand upon the child's forehead and was muttering a soft chant. With the grace of a hunter, he moved inconspicuously over to the bed. The grey-eyed man sensed his approach but made no move to stop him. Instead, the warrior was surprised to feel the other withdraw his probing tendrils of Magic from the child. He nodded his gratitude for the man's understanding, glad that he possessed wisdom.
The woman gasped as he took the boy out of her arms. She was about to protest when he caught her strange amethyst eyes; she was a Child of Light but she had walked through the night and he could see her fear. The honesty of the emotion shone unabashed, even though she knew he could see it. He did not look upon her with disdain or pity but with respect for her openness. So it was that she reluctantly let him take the boy, consenting also in part out of sheer exhaustion but the weight of the child in his own arms told him that he had her trust. Gently, he pulled the child towards himself until their foreheads lightly touched. A power surged between them; he could feel the spark of magic that ignited but it felt unfamiliar, unlike the intoxicating power of Ancient Dark Magic yet at the same time, as if a part of him had awakened. The warrior held on to the golden thread of magic, pulling himself forward, or perhaps he was pulling whatever it was at the end of the thread towards himself, he could not be sure. He knew he had to reach the end of the cord, he would find himself- and yet not himself, for the presence was new to him.
"What is he doing?" Amenhotep asked sharply as he suddenly noticed the warrior's actions. The angry man advanced towards the warrior, hand outstretched.
"No." The king stared in shock at his wife's command. "Yami needs him."
The warrior struggled to cross what seemed to be an infinite length of the thread, fighting for each small step of progress. As he got closer, the pull of the surrounding darkness increased in strength. It whispered to him and reached fingers to tear him away from the golden cord he held.
[Sihrr...] The warrior almost dropped the thread in surprise. A whisper of a child's voice; how did it know his name? He pushed the question aside as he continued on with renewed strength. He laboured inch by inch across the thread until after what seemed like an eternity he reached a small child, curled up in the darkness fast asleep. He scooped the child up and opened his eyes to see sleepy red orbs that filled his entire vision. An enormous yawn threatened to swallow his nose before he could pull away from the child's face.
"Yami!" The boy was swept up in the embrace of his parents. Seeing that his task was done, he let the child go. The warrior turned to face his elder.
"We have much to talk about, warrior." The younger Being nodded, standing up from the bed. The two Beings disappeared from the room. The other occupants were oblivious to the sudden absence of the two Magicians. Save one.
"Sihrr," Yami whispered.
~~~~~
All the strange words are actual Arabic
Mu"allim: master
Azrak: Blue (hehe, the word for purple was just too long)
Sihrr: I'll let you guys guess that one *grin*
Nekti gritted her teeth as she fought against the consuming fatigue. Her muscles burned with the fiery heat of the Red Lands while her skin was a layer of ice, the desert night covering her with its frosty breath. She was trapped between fire and ice. Her body cried out in exhaustion and pain. Its demands for rest were ignored as the heart and mind removed themselves from the weak trappings of the flesh. She was only dimly aware of the strong hands that gripped her waist and the sleek muscles of the giant silver wolf pulsing under her thighs, so concentrated was she on her single goal. Her mind, though beginning to numb from the strain of sustained tension, was surprisingly clear. The Shadows. She had to get to her son before the Shadows consumed him. It hungered after souls, even those of its own children, if those pitiable bastards of Light and Dark indeed possessed the ba and ka. It hungered especially the Dark children. She shuddered from the thought, though she was flush from the heat of exertion.
A vivid memory rose unbidden to the foremost of her thought. Her nostrils flared in remembrance of the unmistakeable odour of wasting death. The unclean smell of rot and decay pulled her into the memory's embrace. The prince lay on the sickbed, the slight rise and fall of his chest so faint that she had thought that Osiris had already summoned his ka from its earthly vessel. The thin hand was pale under the brown skin, cold as marble to the touch. She shied away from the memory, as she had at first flinched from the terribly still body. The memory persisted. The woman frowned at it in defiance. She had summoned the courage to walk through the lost paths of the Realm of Shadows and had emerged from its mists. But not unchanged. What she had seen... she stiffened slightly. She had faced the Realm once and it had terrified her, like looking into the eyes of a serpent ready to strike. She was afraid of this night without day, this darkness without light. But she knew that she would walk through a thousand nights to rescue her child.
//You will not walk them alone, my morning star. I will guide you.// The exhausted woman smiled and sent a mental pulse of gratitude through their telepathic link. The king responded in kind, filtering his emotions to hide his anxiety and frustration. He did not begrudge his wife her role, though it taxed her strength sorely. She needed this so it was his task to ensure she did not grossly overstep her own boundaries. Perched astride the silver Guardian with naught to do but flatten both their bodies close to the undulating back of the giant wolf, he allowed himself an admission. He felt helpless. With his own Guardian searching the dimensions of the Realm of Shadows, he could do nothing but wait. Wait for morning to come to lighten the immense burden on his wife and to await news in hope and fear from his Sage of Darkness. And he could do nothing else. The man's own frustrations were mirrored in that of his Guardian's. In his mind's eye, he saw the bright glow of the Sage's presence wandering in the dark places of the Shadow Realm in search for the lost child. The Realm was vast, the hope slim as finding a needle in all the sands of the Red Lands but the sliver of hope was enough to drive the Sage into action. He longed to roam with his Guardian; to get up and move his body, urge his limbs to bear him the miles that lay before him to Memphis. His fingers tightened their grip on the silver hair.
[Mu"allim.] A deep rich voice sounded in his mind and despite himself, Amenhotep smiled. [Azrak, no need for formalities. What is it?]
[I have searched everywhere and I have found nothing.] Amenhotep had no words to answer. Relief and the cold fingers of dread swirled in his mind. The Sage ventured on. [There is one possibility, however, that I have not sought.]
[What is it?]
[Perhaps your son is not in the Realm itself, but in an extension of the Realm of his own making: the Seat of his Ba.]
[Is there any way for you to access his Seat?]
[No. It is impossible for any save your son's Guardian to directly access the Seat from the Realm.]
Amenhotep narrowed his eyes in thought as his mind formulated a course of action. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind of distracting thoughts and emotions. [Azrak, you must transport us to the palace. There is someone there that may be of help.]
The Guardian acquiesced. Amenhotep felt the Sage close his mind on their connection, reaching for the thread that joined Partner and Guardian. There was a heavy pull on Azrak's end and an odd sensation of shortening the thread, as if it were a tangible rope between the two entities. Amenhotep guided the Sage's spell of binding by pulling lightly on his own end of the thread, stopping when he felt his wife's Silver Guardian lope to a halt as the powerful Magician materialized. Gently disentangling his fingers from the matted silver hair, Amenhotep dismounted the giant wolf and placed a hand on her muzzle, pushing the wet nose down slightly to gaze into the intelligent amber eyes of the Guardian.
[My thanks for your service, Silver Fang. Azrak will bear us to the palace.] The liquid eyes smiled. The wolf turned her head to nuzzle her Partner, who still sat rigidly upon her back. Amenhotep reached out to lift his wife down, aided by encouraging nudges from Nekti's Guardian. Nekti made a weak move to protest.
/Let her go. You are too tired to sustain her any longer./
/But who is searching for Yami if your Guardian is taking us to the palace?/
/Azrak has searched the entire Realm. He suspects that our son's Ba may have taken temporary residence in his Seat and he is does not have the experience to return it to his body. That would be the only explanation for his current state./ And our last hope, he thought to himself privately as he shifted his wife's weight in his arms for a better grip. He was glad that she was too tired to demand to be put on her feet. There was a whisper of wind whistling through dense fur as the Silver Guardian disappeared into the darkness.
The man closed his tired blood-red eyes and nodded. With a soft chant, the Dark Magic of the Sage engulfed him. He felt the golden desert lurch like a camel clumsily rising from its knees then race backwards faster than the wind, the city of Memphis jolting around them after a small fraction of a moment. Amenhotep ignored the similar lurch in his stomach as he stumbled slightly from the disorientation. Recovering quickly, he brushed off Azrak's concern and declined the Guardian's silent offer to carry his wife. He needed to feel her weight in his arms as much as she needed to feel his arms around him.
The king and the Guardian glided quickly down the halls. Guards stared at them quizzically, wondering at the absence of the king's company and the state of their queen though they posed no questions to their Majesty. Amenhotep and Azrak turned and twisted in the labyrinth of rooms and halls until they reached a non-descript clay door decorated with a finely painted golden eye of Horus. Before they could announce their arrival, the door opened and out stepped a man. Though the night was yet old, he was dressed in loose desert robes of white, his sand-blond hair hidden beneath a turban. In one hand, he clutched a golden ankh, the smooth metal surface winking even in the dimness of the hallway. The storm-grey eyes were clear and awake, calm and smooth as the flat planes of the ankh he held.
"Golden One, I am at your service." The turbaned man held his posture.
The king frowned in confusion. "How did you know I required your service?"
The grey-eyed man smiled. A flap of wings behind him and a falcon landed on his shoulder. "A little bird told me." The smile melted into intense solemnity. "Come, we need to hurry." He stepped between the Guardian and the king with surprising quickness, beckoning for them to follow.
Threading their way through the corridors, the group made their way to the prince's rooms. Amenhotep put his wife down at her insistence, though he held her close with a strong arm around her waist for balance. The nursery was lit by wicks dipped in pungent oils. The bed was surrounded by servants assisting three healers, who were absorbed in quiet discussion amongst themselves as they studied their young charge. The conversation ended abruptly in mid sentence at the entrance of the king as they descended to their knees and touched their heads to the ground.
"Lord and Lady of the Two Lands."
"Your task here is done. You may leave. We have wish to be alone with the prince." Bidding them to rise and leave, Amenhotep approached the bed slowly, helping his wife walk though she trembled slightly with exhaustion. A small figure lay on the clean white sheets, the eyes half-closed in a strange state between dream and waking. Nekti reached out to caress the cold cheek.
Another memory stirred within her.
The girl cautiously approached the bed attended by many servants. The same dreadful odour of decay pervaded her nostrils though the invasive scent of healing clouded the air like a cloak. Dull crimson eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, half-closed in the strange state between dream and waking. Her purple eyes gazed intently at the red ones, absorbed in the bloody depths of the iris. Lost in the swirl of crimson, the room faded, leaving only the redness. It pulled at her, tried to draw her into its vortex of fire. It sucked hungrily at the purple; she could not tear away. She resisted its vacuum, trying to twist her body away from the center of the gyrating red mass, which she could sense more than see was a deep dark consuming nothingness. It drained her, left her empty. Gasping, she used her hands to claw, as a drowning man does to reach the dancing ghosts of light that play teasingly at the water's surface.
The girl was starting to tire. She drifted slowly towards the darkness that waited impatiently to claim its prize. Panic rose in her, like bubbles of gas that burst violently from the drowner's lungs. A silent scream contorted the fluid red walls of the vortex as the girl approached the darkness's gaping mouth. Suddenly, she felt a searing hot pain race through her veins, concentrating on her forehead. The fire swelled and exploded from her, banishing the darkness. Then, blackness descended to meet her as her eyes involuntarily closed.
"Yami." Nekti sat down on the bed as her husband released her gently. She stared into her son's half-lidded eyes. Crimson, like the crimson that had pulled her into itself so long ago.
Amenhotep nodded to the white-clad man, who stepped up to the bed. Nekti withdrew her hand and sat back, allowing the man to work. The round end of the golden ankh hovered briefly before coming to rest gently on the tip of the child's nose. A low hum of quietly murmured words issued from the man's lips as his grey eyes closed. He remained bent over the child, his body frozen in position as he freed his ba from its physical anchor. The disconnected part of him drifted in a moment's hesitation before finding a path down the golden length of the ankh. With a tendril of magic, the man beckoned the bas of the king and queen to follow. He noted that the Guardian had already amalgamated his own magic with that of the ankh, so he concentrated on guiding Amenhotep and Nekti. The ankh shimmered under the weight of the three bas then settled. The room was completely still, the bodies of its occupants frozen in space.
~~~~~
"What are you doing here?" The judge opened his grey eyes to see a purple- clad figure standing in the physical manifestation of the prince's Seat. Ice-blue eyes were narrowed calmly; the intensity of the gaze was incongruous with the youth that the figure displayed and gave the judge a moment's pause as he assessed this new challenge. It was obvious from the man's stance that he was a warrior, muscles lightly tense but under taut control. He stood with one foot slightly ahead of the other in a defensive stand in between the intruder and the sleeping boy. Even as he made his observations, the judge felt the gaze of the other repaying the action. He stayed perfectly still as he was in turn surveyed by the warrior, letting his glance flicker to the object of the warrior's protection to betray his intentions.
"We may ask the same question, apprentice. You have no right to be here." The judge turned his head slightly, only just noticing that the Sage must have arrived the same time he did. The king's Guardian stepped between the judge and the warrior. Blue eyes locked on blue for a moment before the warrior lowered his head.
"Elder," the warrior acknowledged. There was a ripple of magic as Amenhotep and Nekti entered the room. The parents rushed to their son's side despite the presence of the warrior. Nekti gathered the sleeping form in her arms and held him close, biting back the tears. The boy began to stir, squirming in his mother's embrace.
"Do not touch him. He needs his rest." The warrior attempted to reach the boy but Amenhotep stepped in between before Azrak could speak.
"Who are you to be telling us what to do?" he spat in anger. "What is your business here?" The livid red eyes were on fire and he drew himself to full imperious height. A dark Eye of Horus glowed on his forehead. The warrior offered nothing in response, his calm demeanour further stoking the fury of the king.
"What have you done with my son?" Amenhotep could feel magic emanate from the warrior, though it strength was nowhere near as strong as the Magic required to enter a Seat of the Ba unbidden. Yet, there he stood, unmoving and silent to questions that he had obligation to answer. The Eye flamed to life. The king would not stand this insolence! Amenhotep raised his hand to mete out punishment.
"Mu"allim, he is one of my people. I ask for the right to deal with him." Amenhotep turned his angry red eyes on his Guardian.
[You expect me to let him go after what he did to my son?!]
[Please Amenhotep. There is no proof that he has hurt your son. I understand your anger-]
[You cannot possibly understand my anger.]
[Perhaps I cannot understand it but I feel it as keenly as you do! I do not blame your anger but he is one of my own and it would be injustice to punish him without first letting him speak.]
The human and his Guardian glared at each other, lost in argument. Seeing that their attentions were momentarily diverted from his person, the warrior risked a glance at the bed. The woman was holding her son and crying softly, while the grey-eyed man had a hand upon the child's forehead and was muttering a soft chant. With the grace of a hunter, he moved inconspicuously over to the bed. The grey-eyed man sensed his approach but made no move to stop him. Instead, the warrior was surprised to feel the other withdraw his probing tendrils of Magic from the child. He nodded his gratitude for the man's understanding, glad that he possessed wisdom.
The woman gasped as he took the boy out of her arms. She was about to protest when he caught her strange amethyst eyes; she was a Child of Light but she had walked through the night and he could see her fear. The honesty of the emotion shone unabashed, even though she knew he could see it. He did not look upon her with disdain or pity but with respect for her openness. So it was that she reluctantly let him take the boy, consenting also in part out of sheer exhaustion but the weight of the child in his own arms told him that he had her trust. Gently, he pulled the child towards himself until their foreheads lightly touched. A power surged between them; he could feel the spark of magic that ignited but it felt unfamiliar, unlike the intoxicating power of Ancient Dark Magic yet at the same time, as if a part of him had awakened. The warrior held on to the golden thread of magic, pulling himself forward, or perhaps he was pulling whatever it was at the end of the thread towards himself, he could not be sure. He knew he had to reach the end of the cord, he would find himself- and yet not himself, for the presence was new to him.
"What is he doing?" Amenhotep asked sharply as he suddenly noticed the warrior's actions. The angry man advanced towards the warrior, hand outstretched.
"No." The king stared in shock at his wife's command. "Yami needs him."
The warrior struggled to cross what seemed to be an infinite length of the thread, fighting for each small step of progress. As he got closer, the pull of the surrounding darkness increased in strength. It whispered to him and reached fingers to tear him away from the golden cord he held.
[Sihrr...] The warrior almost dropped the thread in surprise. A whisper of a child's voice; how did it know his name? He pushed the question aside as he continued on with renewed strength. He laboured inch by inch across the thread until after what seemed like an eternity he reached a small child, curled up in the darkness fast asleep. He scooped the child up and opened his eyes to see sleepy red orbs that filled his entire vision. An enormous yawn threatened to swallow his nose before he could pull away from the child's face.
"Yami!" The boy was swept up in the embrace of his parents. Seeing that his task was done, he let the child go. The warrior turned to face his elder.
"We have much to talk about, warrior." The younger Being nodded, standing up from the bed. The two Beings disappeared from the room. The other occupants were oblivious to the sudden absence of the two Magicians. Save one.
"Sihrr," Yami whispered.
~~~~~
All the strange words are actual Arabic
Mu"allim: master
Azrak: Blue (hehe, the word for purple was just too long)
Sihrr: I'll let you guys guess that one *grin*