Well, as you might have noticed, I didn't update on Friday. Last time I
updated, I didn't get the usual response, which I took to mean that
everyone was too busy. Don't get me wrong, I write for the pure joy of
writing, but my personal goal for this story is to get 100 reviews (looks
up at very high figure). A little ambitious, I know, but something to aim
for. =)
Also, I had a really hard time writing this chapter. I think I went through at least 2 false starts before it would begin properly and a couple more before I could end it. Now it's almost 3:30 in the morning and I am FINALLY content with how it turned out. Not happy mind you; it's still missing something. If you know what it is or you have suggestions, press the little grew button that says review at the bottom of the story!
Anyway, just a bit of vocab before moving on and personal notes at the end.
Oum = mother SSahibah = mistress Benu = heron Mawllah = master Aaibad = servant
One last thing that I thought was pretty cool =). I found this really cool site on Egyptian names (courtesy of Maria, aka Blue- read her new story, people! Cries of an Ancient Heart) and it turns out that Nekti's name bears close resemblance to the name Nakhti, which means "strong". Very cool, considering I just made up her name. ^^
Chapter Eight
The Magician and the little prince sat side by side on the wooden couch in the pharaoh's quarters as they waited for Nekti to arrive. Both were quiet, absently watching the pharaoh and the Sage converse quietly on the opposite side of the room. Yami was swinging his shorter legs, resting comfortably against the worn outer robe of his Guardian. Sihrr sat with a rod-straight back, blue eyes lost in thought and hands folded in his lap as he waited. His knuckles grew increasingly white as the moments drifted by. Several large muscles cramped from prolonged tension. The warrior forced them to relax.
[Don't worry, Sihrr.]
The Magician reigned in his shock as he heard Yami's voice in his mind. He had completely forgotten that their connection allowed both sides to mutually communicate emotions and thoughts. With mental agility, he raised barriers on his anxiety and sent a pulse of reassurance through their bond. Yami responded by looking up to his Guardian with an encouraging grin.
The rustling of cloth drew their attention to the gilded doors. They admitted a guard escorting a small Egyptian woman whose delicate features were shadowed with worry. The pharaoh and his Guardian broke their discussion. Sihrr's anxiety jumped to new heights as Nekti's gaze immediately met his. It was a slightly puzzled, questioning look, one mixed with a hint of recognition.
"Golden One, the queen has arrived." Task accomplished, the guard retreated from the room. The pharaoh made a move to speak, but it was Yami that broke the silence.
"Oum, there is someone I want you to meet." With the serious formality of one many times his age, the little boy took the Magician's hand and led him to his mother.
"Oum, this is my Guardian. His name is Sihrr and he is a Magician. Sihrr, this is my mother." The Magician sunk to one knee in the Azima display of respect, keeping his eyes fixed on the queen's sandals.
[Sihrr, you don't have to do that.] Yami's voice admonished him.
[He is right. It is entirely unnecessary, Magician. Arise.]
The Guardian remained in his position, almost afraid to move. Plaited white folds lowered into his view as the queen of Egypt knelt down to take his rough hands and raise him to his feet. The pharaoh stood beside his wife as she smiled gently at the nervous Shadow warrior.
"Sihrr, you are Yami's Guardian. That means that you are part of the family." She picked up the little prince so that he was eye-level with her. "Isn't that right, my little dark?" Yami nodded.
Nekti's words echoed in Sihrr's mind. He was part of the family. His heart felt as if it would burst from the immense joy that swelled within. A shadow of memory dimmed his happiness momentarily as he remembered. No, the past was behind him. He pushed the pain aside.
"SSahibah," the Magician managed to reply in a voice that sounded surprisingly steady to his own ears. The queen met his eye with a slightly reproving look.
"None of that, Sihrr. Call me Nekti."
The Magician bowed low so as to conceal the wetness collecting in his eyes.
Sihrr held Yami in his arms as they navigated through the enormous palace. They were being led by a Hebrew servant woman with a sleeping infant strapped to her back. Nekti had explained with an apologetic smile that she and her husband had needed to take care of an urgent matter so they could not see Sihrr settled into his new quarters. She had wanted to thank him for saving her son but Sihrr had already seen the gratitude in her violet eyes. Their depths had told him all she had needed to say.
The cavernous hallway was sparsely peopled. Servant women walked in large groups murmuring quiet gossip. Several stopped to greet the Hebrew woman, curious glances lingering on the tall purple-haired stranger. They hurriedly looked away when they were met with the lapis lazuli eyes.
Sihrr brushed off the curious attention, focusing on his partner. Sitting in the crook of one arm with a small hand flung over the Magician's neck, the little prince was keeping his Guardian's ear busy as only a three-year- old can by pointing out anything that caught his eye and explaining the smallest details in a tumble of words. Sihrr caught an amused smile from the Hebrew woman, Serrah, over Yami's head.
"Those colourful drawings over there, see?" Depictions of slim brown- skinned people walked in neat rows across the walls among thick black symbols. Sihrr only had time to nod before Yami continued. "They are hieroglyphs - that's how we write- and they tell stories about how the Land of the Nile was before we were born, before even ab was born." He paused to take a breath. "Those hieroglyphs there are about a group of people that came to Egypt a long time ago, from a far-off place in the desert somewhere. A big family of brothers came a long time ago and asked the pharaoh if they could stay." Serrah's steps faltered slightly. The little boy was too absorbed in his story to notice the Magician's gaze flicker briefly to the servant woman.
"That sounds like a pretty interesting story."
Yami nodded. "It is. It doesn't have an ending though, since this story is still being written- see the fresh jars of paint? I tried to draw in the rest of it, but ab wasn't too happy and he got the guards to wash it off." The boy scrunched up his face, then leaned close to the Magician's ear. "This story wants an ending."
Sihrr chuckled. "Maybe you can tell me your ending sometime." Yami nodded, ruby eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun. He continued pointing people and objects while the trio walked. Sihrr nodded occasionally, marvelling at how much energy the boy had. It had been a long time since he had been young and there had been few children in his village. None, however, had had a spirit to match that of his young partner. He felt the joy that Yami found in everything pulsate through him, their golden connection glowing vibrantly. The Azima Magician found the loneliness of his former life as a warrior, isolated in the wilds of the Realm, slipping away from him.
The corridor opened into a large garden. Benu birds raised their heads on snake-like necks to briefly glance at the intruders. On quiet pools of water floated large white flowers, each petal flaming red in the fire of the sun that was disappearing behind the high brick walls that enclosed the courtyard. The light of the dying Ra jumped off the golden sloping sides of several large structures jutting loftily into the blue sky.
"Yami, what are those?"
The little boy followed his Guardian's eye. "Those are pyramids, Sihrr."
"What are pyramids?"
Yami cocked his head to the side, slightly perplexed that his Guardian was not familiar with the magnificent architecture and culture of Egypt. "They are houses for the bodies of the dead. Those that die are buried in the pyramids so they can climb up them all the way to the top to reach the stars. Then their Bas can find their way to the afterlife." Yami's rigid explanation reminded Sihrr of a recitation but it contained a note of awe and reverence.
"Someday, I will build the biggest pyramid of all. It will be so tall and so big, it will fill the entire sky."
Sihrr grinned as Yami stretched his arms as wide as possible, the small arms seeking to encompass the size of his imagination. "Someday, Yami. Someday." The Magician twisted his head around to catch a last glance of the enormous ancient tombs looming beyond the palace walls. He felt small and incongruous in the golden desert landscape. The Magician felt more at ease in the shadows of the palace as he followed Serrah under a limestone archway framing the entrance to a hall.
"Sihrr, are there pyramids where you come from?"
"No, Yami. There are very few buildings in my land."
"What are there then?"
"There are mountains of blue and purple rock that look like the pyramids. But they are far bigger." There was no language to describe the wild of the Realm; only the senses could describe the raw beauty. A vivid harsh landscape of wind-swept purple rock tinged ash-grey in the weak light of the twilight sky. The Sahrae tasted and smelled earthen. Cold winds raced through his violet hair. It was real before Sihrr in one moment and disappeared into the bright sunlight in the next. Yami's crimson eyes grew wide and unfocused as he tipped back slightly in Sihrr's arms as if he had seen something that amazed him. The little boy was quiet for a moment.
"Sihrr, where do you come from?"
Caught off-guard, the Magician hesitated. There was no avoiding the question; sooner or later, it would require an answer. Yami was not unfamiliar with the Realm that was certain, although he had probably never seen the true expanse of the Shadow world. But that was not the dilemma Sihrr faced. Answering this innocent question would lead to other questions about his past, questions he would rather not answer and answers he did not want to face.
"I come from a place very far away, yet very near. It is called the Realm of Shadows," Sihrr replied carefully. Puzzlement knit the small boy's eyebrows. He was about to ask the Guardian to explain when Serrah's quiet voice interrupted.
"Mawllah, we have arrived at your new quarters." The room was large and spacious with a slight current of air that lightly brushed against Sihrr's skin. Light streamed in from several rectangular windows. A plain bed was pushed against one side of the room, sharing the space with several pieces of plain furniture. Yami squirmed excitedly at the sight, a bundle of childish energy. Caught off-guard by the unexpected movement, Sihrr nearly dropped his partner. It was only his quick reflexes that he caught and gently lowered the boy to the ground with the use of magic. Yami grinned while the Magician felt his cheeks grow hot from embarrassment.
"I can do that too, Sihrr. Watch." The little prince concentrated, giving the youthful face an intense look. A card flew in front of Sihrr's face from where it had previously rested in a pocket. The golden Eye of Horus gleamed as the card quivered in the air before settling onto Yami's outstretched hand. The boy grinned proudly as he felt a brief burst of amusement from his Guardian.
"Little prince, return that to the mawllah," Serrah admonished in a firm voice.
Yami pouted. "Don't tell me what to do, aaibad. Sihrr and I were just playing."
The Magician knelt down to the boy's level, gently plucking the card from his hands and replacing it into his robes. "But Yami, you forgot one of the rules to the game. You must never call anyone aaibad."
The boy looked at his Guardian questioningly. "Why is that, Sihrr?"
"If you do, then they won't want to play with you anymore because you do not treat them as your equal."
"Oh." Yami looked up at the Hebrew with wide eyes, a hint of apology in his voice. "Serrah, will you still play with me?"
"As long as you play by the rules, little one," Serrah replied, smiling briefly at the prince's enormous crimson eyes. It was a wonder at how the child could look so adorable when he wanted to. "Now, it is time for eating. We must leave the mawllah to rest." She turned to the magician. "The servants will bring your meal shortly, mawllah." Despite the sleeping infant strapped to her back, the servant woman knelt down to pick the boy up.
"Here." The Magician swept his partner up in his arms with one fluid motion. Yami giggled as Sihrr helped the woman back to her feet.
"I can take the child, mawllah. His rooms are only down the hall and you need to take your rest."
"I do not need rest."
Serrah saw that there was no persuading the decided Guardian. She was slightly offset by the way he treated her. It was unsettling but it was pleasant, she admitted. She was a servant, infinitely far below his ranks although she was educated in writing and arithmetic, rare skills for a nursemaid. Aside from the pharaoh and his queen, the self-important officials of the palace treated the servants no better than they treated the commoners. Serrah felt a touch of respect as she regarded the tall Magician.
"This way, mawllah." She led the pair in the direction of the prince's rooms.
"There is no need to call me master." The formal title tripped over the Magician's tongue, making it sound awkward. "My name is Sihrr."
A look of understanding passed between servant and magician, followed by a smile on the sun-browned face of the Hebrew woman. "My name is Serrah. And this is how you hold a child so you will not drop him when he moves in your arms." She deftly undid the straps holding her infant, transferring the quiet light-haired child to her arms and demonstrating a proper hold. She looked expectantly at the Magician, who shifted Yami's weight until he rested securely in his grasp. A faint blush stayed on Sihrr's cheeks as he practiced Serrah's advice the rest of the way to Yami's rooms.
"It is still too early to go to bed, Serrah. I don't even feel sleepy" Yami complained as he struggled to stifle a yawn.
"Little prince, Ra has already left the sky. It is time for sleeping. I'm sure Sihrr wants to rest as well. He has been busy all day helping me and he must be tired." She looked over to the Magician, who was coaxing his partner to bed. He had removed his strange plated armour and now wore robes of deep purple. It was strange, she thought, that he handled the child as a shepherd would hold his youngest lamb while he moved with the cunning grace of a jackal. Serrah squinted in the poor lighting. It must have been the restless flame of the oil lamp that had made his purple eyes glow dimly in the dark.
"Serrah is right, little dark. It is time for bed." With that warning, the Magician lifted the child with magic and tucked him beneath the linen sheets. The Hebrew woman adjusted the blankets to make the child comfortable and brushed hair out of the drooping eyes, then took the oil lamp and left the room. The only light in the room was the unsteady glow of torchlight from the hall.
[Sihrr?]
[What is it?]
[There are a lot of shadows in here.]
Sihrr knelt beside the bed. [Does the dark frighten you?] He felt a vigorous mental and physical head shake.
[No, it doesn't. But I don't like shadows.]
[What is it that you don't like about shadows, Yami?]
[The things that make them.] The small voice whispered softly in the warrior's mind. Sihrr frowned momentarily. He could dispel the dark with light, but how could he dispel shadows? Or, the things that made them? An image flickered in his mind.
[I can help chase the shadows away. Come with me.] Sihrr tugged gently on the golden thread that bound Guardian and partner together, using it to guide Yami's consciousness to his Soul Room. Yami felt a calm sensation of sinking, as if he had melted into his bed in the palace and resurfaced in the bed of his Soul Room.
The room was as he had left it. The shifting swirls of colour and memory on the ceiling cast a soft glow on the various toys strewn about the floor. A brighter light caught his attention and he saw his Guardian sitting on the corner of his bed, concentrating on a glowing white ball that hung in the air between his hands. As he watched, the ball shifted and turned. Its brilliant white colour hardened into a gleaming gold and its roundness stretched into sloping angular plains.
"It's beautiful, Sihrr!"
The Magician smiled. He twisted a hand and the newly-made toy, a small pyramid, spun neatly into Yami's lap. It continued to shed golden light as the boy picked it up.
"This will chase away all your shadows, even in your dreams. It isn't the biggest pyramid in Egypt, but it is the only one that glows in the dark," Sihrr grinned. Yami yawned widely and settled back, holding the pyramid close.
[Shukran, Sihrr.] With that, the little boy drifted to sleep. The Magician watched the slight rise and fall of the slow breathing for a while, a smile playing on his lips, before he carefully left the Soul Room. Returning to Yami's room in the palace, Sihrr was on the balls of his feet in a heartbeat, whipping around to face the intruder.
It was Azrak. It took the warrior a moment to recognize the black- robed elder. The Sage motioned for them to step into the hall. Sihrr hesitated then followed, not wanting to wake his partner if a confrontation arose. Both Guardians exited noiselessly into a corridor empty of people save pairs of armoured guards.
/We need someplace more private to talk./ The pharaoh's Guardian twisted the fabric of space, infusing magic into the ordinary threads of the mortal world to make an extension of the Shadow Realm. It was not a true part of the Shadow Realm, merely a creation, but Sihrr felt as if he had come home. The Darkness embraced him. The two Beings stood on a small plain bathed in familiar purple twilight that faded into darkness in the distance.
"Why are we here?"
"We need to talk."
"Of what?"
"Sihrr, the path of a Guardian is a long and lonely one."
"I know."
"Do you still wish to go ahead with it?"
Sihrr dug his nails into his hand to control his anger. He had given everything to be Yami's Guardian; there was no going back, even if he had wanted to or honour allowed him. None of that mattered, though. It was because of his love for the boy that he had made this decision.
"Do you doubt that I do?" There was quiet anger in his voice. How dare the Elder even suggest that he would go back on his word.
Azrak shook his head. "No."
"Then why do you ask?"
"Because the pledge you will be making is far too great not to." The Sage met the magician's glare calmly. "Tell me, what do you think your duties are as Yami's Guardian?"
"To protect him with my life." The fierce warrior's pride flared in the Magician.
Azrak nodded. "I thought no less. There are many that owe their lives to the sacrifice of an Azima. You are a warrior by birthright and training. But being a warrior does not mean that you will be a proper Guardian."
A hard look crossed the Magician's face. He may not have been an Ahsan, as the other was, but it made him no less fit to be a Guardian. "And just what does it mean to be a 'proper' Guardian?"
"Many things. It is more than merely protecting your partner from whatever dangers he may encounter. You are bonded to him for life. He will look to you for advice, judgement, answers to his questions, comfort, friendship. Can you provide all these?"
"Anything I can give to Yami, I will."
"But will it be enough?"
Sihrr was silent, eyes fixed on the middle distance. Underneath his anger, doubts and fears boiled inside him, each bubble containing a situation in which he had failed in his duty. They burst into accusing questions. What would he say when Yami sought his advice? How could he guide his partner when he was not sure himself? Was this truly the destiny he needed to fulfill? He could suddenly feel the weight of his decision to follow this path press down on him but he kept his appearance neutral. He was keenly aware that his silence implied his uncertainty but he would be damned to the darkest regions of the Realm before he let it show. Especially not to the Ahsan Elder.
"Will it be enough?" Azrak repeated.
"I will make sure it is."
"And how would you do that?"
Each question pushed the Azima farther into a corner of doubt and frustration. He couldn't let this arrogant opponent win; he had to stand his ground. Anger and instincts took over. "What gives you the right to demand these answers?"
"Yu-gi-oh is my partner's son. The pharaoh's concern is my concern."
"I believe you are over-stepping your boundaries, Elder. If the pharaoh were troubled about his son, he would be the one questioning me. If you doubt me so much, why help me escape from the Council in the first place? I am Yami's Guardian, even if I am a Karrah." Sihrr spat out the last word.
"Is that what you think this is about?"
"Isn't it? That is the reason I am an outcast. I am a warrior of the Azima and therefore unworthy and incompetent to be a Guardian. Such has always been the narrow-minded thinking of the Ahsan. Every other clan is below yours. Have you ever stopped to think of how your borders are kept safe from the Shadows? It is because we, the Azima, are the guardians of the Sahrae. Our warriors protect your way of life. We are your guardians. The destiny of the Guardian may not be mine by birthright but I am Yami's Guardian. I will be more than just a proper Guardian. By my honour as an Azima, I will be there to Guide him through fire and Shadow if that is where his path takes us." Sihrr drew a ragged breath. A warm wetness dripped from his clenched fists. Dimly, he realized it was blood from wounds his fingernails had made.
"I expect no less from an Azima."
"What?"
"You swear to be more than just a 'proper' Guardian. I hold you to your vow, Magician. You will be my apprentice."
Confusion replaced anger. "What are you talking about?"
"I will teach you to be a Guardian."
"I don't need you."
"You need guidance."
"What makes you think that?"
"No Being is born knowing how to be a Guardian. You need guidance, and I will provide it."
Sihrr was about to refuse when he remembered his doubts. He did need guidance. But to accept help from the Sage was swallowing too much pride. The Magician struggled to reconcile the two needs. In the end, it was reason that won over pride.
"I will accept your guidance, but only for my partner's sake."
It was the first time Sihrr had seen the Sage smile. "For whatever reasons, I will see to it that you learn to be a Guardian."
Personal Notes:
Nicole: thank you so much for the advice on the ending. =) The turning point was when I read your comment about how pissed off Sihrr should've been and something just clicked; I'm MUCH happier with it now. This scene is dedicated to you. ^^
Maria: thank you so much for saying you love my story. =) I know I sound awfully needy when I say this, but genuinely, you're one of the reviewers that keep me going. I had a look at your story, Cries of an Ancient Heart- it's wonderful. I hope you continue with it, and I hope you won't mind if I draw inspiration for my own story from it.
Rainbowscale: You're welcome; because it's true.
Also, I had a really hard time writing this chapter. I think I went through at least 2 false starts before it would begin properly and a couple more before I could end it. Now it's almost 3:30 in the morning and I am FINALLY content with how it turned out. Not happy mind you; it's still missing something. If you know what it is or you have suggestions, press the little grew button that says review at the bottom of the story!
Anyway, just a bit of vocab before moving on and personal notes at the end.
Oum = mother SSahibah = mistress Benu = heron Mawllah = master Aaibad = servant
One last thing that I thought was pretty cool =). I found this really cool site on Egyptian names (courtesy of Maria, aka Blue- read her new story, people! Cries of an Ancient Heart) and it turns out that Nekti's name bears close resemblance to the name Nakhti, which means "strong". Very cool, considering I just made up her name. ^^
Chapter Eight
The Magician and the little prince sat side by side on the wooden couch in the pharaoh's quarters as they waited for Nekti to arrive. Both were quiet, absently watching the pharaoh and the Sage converse quietly on the opposite side of the room. Yami was swinging his shorter legs, resting comfortably against the worn outer robe of his Guardian. Sihrr sat with a rod-straight back, blue eyes lost in thought and hands folded in his lap as he waited. His knuckles grew increasingly white as the moments drifted by. Several large muscles cramped from prolonged tension. The warrior forced them to relax.
[Don't worry, Sihrr.]
The Magician reigned in his shock as he heard Yami's voice in his mind. He had completely forgotten that their connection allowed both sides to mutually communicate emotions and thoughts. With mental agility, he raised barriers on his anxiety and sent a pulse of reassurance through their bond. Yami responded by looking up to his Guardian with an encouraging grin.
The rustling of cloth drew their attention to the gilded doors. They admitted a guard escorting a small Egyptian woman whose delicate features were shadowed with worry. The pharaoh and his Guardian broke their discussion. Sihrr's anxiety jumped to new heights as Nekti's gaze immediately met his. It was a slightly puzzled, questioning look, one mixed with a hint of recognition.
"Golden One, the queen has arrived." Task accomplished, the guard retreated from the room. The pharaoh made a move to speak, but it was Yami that broke the silence.
"Oum, there is someone I want you to meet." With the serious formality of one many times his age, the little boy took the Magician's hand and led him to his mother.
"Oum, this is my Guardian. His name is Sihrr and he is a Magician. Sihrr, this is my mother." The Magician sunk to one knee in the Azima display of respect, keeping his eyes fixed on the queen's sandals.
[Sihrr, you don't have to do that.] Yami's voice admonished him.
[He is right. It is entirely unnecessary, Magician. Arise.]
The Guardian remained in his position, almost afraid to move. Plaited white folds lowered into his view as the queen of Egypt knelt down to take his rough hands and raise him to his feet. The pharaoh stood beside his wife as she smiled gently at the nervous Shadow warrior.
"Sihrr, you are Yami's Guardian. That means that you are part of the family." She picked up the little prince so that he was eye-level with her. "Isn't that right, my little dark?" Yami nodded.
Nekti's words echoed in Sihrr's mind. He was part of the family. His heart felt as if it would burst from the immense joy that swelled within. A shadow of memory dimmed his happiness momentarily as he remembered. No, the past was behind him. He pushed the pain aside.
"SSahibah," the Magician managed to reply in a voice that sounded surprisingly steady to his own ears. The queen met his eye with a slightly reproving look.
"None of that, Sihrr. Call me Nekti."
The Magician bowed low so as to conceal the wetness collecting in his eyes.
Sihrr held Yami in his arms as they navigated through the enormous palace. They were being led by a Hebrew servant woman with a sleeping infant strapped to her back. Nekti had explained with an apologetic smile that she and her husband had needed to take care of an urgent matter so they could not see Sihrr settled into his new quarters. She had wanted to thank him for saving her son but Sihrr had already seen the gratitude in her violet eyes. Their depths had told him all she had needed to say.
The cavernous hallway was sparsely peopled. Servant women walked in large groups murmuring quiet gossip. Several stopped to greet the Hebrew woman, curious glances lingering on the tall purple-haired stranger. They hurriedly looked away when they were met with the lapis lazuli eyes.
Sihrr brushed off the curious attention, focusing on his partner. Sitting in the crook of one arm with a small hand flung over the Magician's neck, the little prince was keeping his Guardian's ear busy as only a three-year- old can by pointing out anything that caught his eye and explaining the smallest details in a tumble of words. Sihrr caught an amused smile from the Hebrew woman, Serrah, over Yami's head.
"Those colourful drawings over there, see?" Depictions of slim brown- skinned people walked in neat rows across the walls among thick black symbols. Sihrr only had time to nod before Yami continued. "They are hieroglyphs - that's how we write- and they tell stories about how the Land of the Nile was before we were born, before even ab was born." He paused to take a breath. "Those hieroglyphs there are about a group of people that came to Egypt a long time ago, from a far-off place in the desert somewhere. A big family of brothers came a long time ago and asked the pharaoh if they could stay." Serrah's steps faltered slightly. The little boy was too absorbed in his story to notice the Magician's gaze flicker briefly to the servant woman.
"That sounds like a pretty interesting story."
Yami nodded. "It is. It doesn't have an ending though, since this story is still being written- see the fresh jars of paint? I tried to draw in the rest of it, but ab wasn't too happy and he got the guards to wash it off." The boy scrunched up his face, then leaned close to the Magician's ear. "This story wants an ending."
Sihrr chuckled. "Maybe you can tell me your ending sometime." Yami nodded, ruby eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun. He continued pointing people and objects while the trio walked. Sihrr nodded occasionally, marvelling at how much energy the boy had. It had been a long time since he had been young and there had been few children in his village. None, however, had had a spirit to match that of his young partner. He felt the joy that Yami found in everything pulsate through him, their golden connection glowing vibrantly. The Azima Magician found the loneliness of his former life as a warrior, isolated in the wilds of the Realm, slipping away from him.
The corridor opened into a large garden. Benu birds raised their heads on snake-like necks to briefly glance at the intruders. On quiet pools of water floated large white flowers, each petal flaming red in the fire of the sun that was disappearing behind the high brick walls that enclosed the courtyard. The light of the dying Ra jumped off the golden sloping sides of several large structures jutting loftily into the blue sky.
"Yami, what are those?"
The little boy followed his Guardian's eye. "Those are pyramids, Sihrr."
"What are pyramids?"
Yami cocked his head to the side, slightly perplexed that his Guardian was not familiar with the magnificent architecture and culture of Egypt. "They are houses for the bodies of the dead. Those that die are buried in the pyramids so they can climb up them all the way to the top to reach the stars. Then their Bas can find their way to the afterlife." Yami's rigid explanation reminded Sihrr of a recitation but it contained a note of awe and reverence.
"Someday, I will build the biggest pyramid of all. It will be so tall and so big, it will fill the entire sky."
Sihrr grinned as Yami stretched his arms as wide as possible, the small arms seeking to encompass the size of his imagination. "Someday, Yami. Someday." The Magician twisted his head around to catch a last glance of the enormous ancient tombs looming beyond the palace walls. He felt small and incongruous in the golden desert landscape. The Magician felt more at ease in the shadows of the palace as he followed Serrah under a limestone archway framing the entrance to a hall.
"Sihrr, are there pyramids where you come from?"
"No, Yami. There are very few buildings in my land."
"What are there then?"
"There are mountains of blue and purple rock that look like the pyramids. But they are far bigger." There was no language to describe the wild of the Realm; only the senses could describe the raw beauty. A vivid harsh landscape of wind-swept purple rock tinged ash-grey in the weak light of the twilight sky. The Sahrae tasted and smelled earthen. Cold winds raced through his violet hair. It was real before Sihrr in one moment and disappeared into the bright sunlight in the next. Yami's crimson eyes grew wide and unfocused as he tipped back slightly in Sihrr's arms as if he had seen something that amazed him. The little boy was quiet for a moment.
"Sihrr, where do you come from?"
Caught off-guard, the Magician hesitated. There was no avoiding the question; sooner or later, it would require an answer. Yami was not unfamiliar with the Realm that was certain, although he had probably never seen the true expanse of the Shadow world. But that was not the dilemma Sihrr faced. Answering this innocent question would lead to other questions about his past, questions he would rather not answer and answers he did not want to face.
"I come from a place very far away, yet very near. It is called the Realm of Shadows," Sihrr replied carefully. Puzzlement knit the small boy's eyebrows. He was about to ask the Guardian to explain when Serrah's quiet voice interrupted.
"Mawllah, we have arrived at your new quarters." The room was large and spacious with a slight current of air that lightly brushed against Sihrr's skin. Light streamed in from several rectangular windows. A plain bed was pushed against one side of the room, sharing the space with several pieces of plain furniture. Yami squirmed excitedly at the sight, a bundle of childish energy. Caught off-guard by the unexpected movement, Sihrr nearly dropped his partner. It was only his quick reflexes that he caught and gently lowered the boy to the ground with the use of magic. Yami grinned while the Magician felt his cheeks grow hot from embarrassment.
"I can do that too, Sihrr. Watch." The little prince concentrated, giving the youthful face an intense look. A card flew in front of Sihrr's face from where it had previously rested in a pocket. The golden Eye of Horus gleamed as the card quivered in the air before settling onto Yami's outstretched hand. The boy grinned proudly as he felt a brief burst of amusement from his Guardian.
"Little prince, return that to the mawllah," Serrah admonished in a firm voice.
Yami pouted. "Don't tell me what to do, aaibad. Sihrr and I were just playing."
The Magician knelt down to the boy's level, gently plucking the card from his hands and replacing it into his robes. "But Yami, you forgot one of the rules to the game. You must never call anyone aaibad."
The boy looked at his Guardian questioningly. "Why is that, Sihrr?"
"If you do, then they won't want to play with you anymore because you do not treat them as your equal."
"Oh." Yami looked up at the Hebrew with wide eyes, a hint of apology in his voice. "Serrah, will you still play with me?"
"As long as you play by the rules, little one," Serrah replied, smiling briefly at the prince's enormous crimson eyes. It was a wonder at how the child could look so adorable when he wanted to. "Now, it is time for eating. We must leave the mawllah to rest." She turned to the magician. "The servants will bring your meal shortly, mawllah." Despite the sleeping infant strapped to her back, the servant woman knelt down to pick the boy up.
"Here." The Magician swept his partner up in his arms with one fluid motion. Yami giggled as Sihrr helped the woman back to her feet.
"I can take the child, mawllah. His rooms are only down the hall and you need to take your rest."
"I do not need rest."
Serrah saw that there was no persuading the decided Guardian. She was slightly offset by the way he treated her. It was unsettling but it was pleasant, she admitted. She was a servant, infinitely far below his ranks although she was educated in writing and arithmetic, rare skills for a nursemaid. Aside from the pharaoh and his queen, the self-important officials of the palace treated the servants no better than they treated the commoners. Serrah felt a touch of respect as she regarded the tall Magician.
"This way, mawllah." She led the pair in the direction of the prince's rooms.
"There is no need to call me master." The formal title tripped over the Magician's tongue, making it sound awkward. "My name is Sihrr."
A look of understanding passed between servant and magician, followed by a smile on the sun-browned face of the Hebrew woman. "My name is Serrah. And this is how you hold a child so you will not drop him when he moves in your arms." She deftly undid the straps holding her infant, transferring the quiet light-haired child to her arms and demonstrating a proper hold. She looked expectantly at the Magician, who shifted Yami's weight until he rested securely in his grasp. A faint blush stayed on Sihrr's cheeks as he practiced Serrah's advice the rest of the way to Yami's rooms.
"It is still too early to go to bed, Serrah. I don't even feel sleepy" Yami complained as he struggled to stifle a yawn.
"Little prince, Ra has already left the sky. It is time for sleeping. I'm sure Sihrr wants to rest as well. He has been busy all day helping me and he must be tired." She looked over to the Magician, who was coaxing his partner to bed. He had removed his strange plated armour and now wore robes of deep purple. It was strange, she thought, that he handled the child as a shepherd would hold his youngest lamb while he moved with the cunning grace of a jackal. Serrah squinted in the poor lighting. It must have been the restless flame of the oil lamp that had made his purple eyes glow dimly in the dark.
"Serrah is right, little dark. It is time for bed." With that warning, the Magician lifted the child with magic and tucked him beneath the linen sheets. The Hebrew woman adjusted the blankets to make the child comfortable and brushed hair out of the drooping eyes, then took the oil lamp and left the room. The only light in the room was the unsteady glow of torchlight from the hall.
[Sihrr?]
[What is it?]
[There are a lot of shadows in here.]
Sihrr knelt beside the bed. [Does the dark frighten you?] He felt a vigorous mental and physical head shake.
[No, it doesn't. But I don't like shadows.]
[What is it that you don't like about shadows, Yami?]
[The things that make them.] The small voice whispered softly in the warrior's mind. Sihrr frowned momentarily. He could dispel the dark with light, but how could he dispel shadows? Or, the things that made them? An image flickered in his mind.
[I can help chase the shadows away. Come with me.] Sihrr tugged gently on the golden thread that bound Guardian and partner together, using it to guide Yami's consciousness to his Soul Room. Yami felt a calm sensation of sinking, as if he had melted into his bed in the palace and resurfaced in the bed of his Soul Room.
The room was as he had left it. The shifting swirls of colour and memory on the ceiling cast a soft glow on the various toys strewn about the floor. A brighter light caught his attention and he saw his Guardian sitting on the corner of his bed, concentrating on a glowing white ball that hung in the air between his hands. As he watched, the ball shifted and turned. Its brilliant white colour hardened into a gleaming gold and its roundness stretched into sloping angular plains.
"It's beautiful, Sihrr!"
The Magician smiled. He twisted a hand and the newly-made toy, a small pyramid, spun neatly into Yami's lap. It continued to shed golden light as the boy picked it up.
"This will chase away all your shadows, even in your dreams. It isn't the biggest pyramid in Egypt, but it is the only one that glows in the dark," Sihrr grinned. Yami yawned widely and settled back, holding the pyramid close.
[Shukran, Sihrr.] With that, the little boy drifted to sleep. The Magician watched the slight rise and fall of the slow breathing for a while, a smile playing on his lips, before he carefully left the Soul Room. Returning to Yami's room in the palace, Sihrr was on the balls of his feet in a heartbeat, whipping around to face the intruder.
It was Azrak. It took the warrior a moment to recognize the black- robed elder. The Sage motioned for them to step into the hall. Sihrr hesitated then followed, not wanting to wake his partner if a confrontation arose. Both Guardians exited noiselessly into a corridor empty of people save pairs of armoured guards.
/We need someplace more private to talk./ The pharaoh's Guardian twisted the fabric of space, infusing magic into the ordinary threads of the mortal world to make an extension of the Shadow Realm. It was not a true part of the Shadow Realm, merely a creation, but Sihrr felt as if he had come home. The Darkness embraced him. The two Beings stood on a small plain bathed in familiar purple twilight that faded into darkness in the distance.
"Why are we here?"
"We need to talk."
"Of what?"
"Sihrr, the path of a Guardian is a long and lonely one."
"I know."
"Do you still wish to go ahead with it?"
Sihrr dug his nails into his hand to control his anger. He had given everything to be Yami's Guardian; there was no going back, even if he had wanted to or honour allowed him. None of that mattered, though. It was because of his love for the boy that he had made this decision.
"Do you doubt that I do?" There was quiet anger in his voice. How dare the Elder even suggest that he would go back on his word.
Azrak shook his head. "No."
"Then why do you ask?"
"Because the pledge you will be making is far too great not to." The Sage met the magician's glare calmly. "Tell me, what do you think your duties are as Yami's Guardian?"
"To protect him with my life." The fierce warrior's pride flared in the Magician.
Azrak nodded. "I thought no less. There are many that owe their lives to the sacrifice of an Azima. You are a warrior by birthright and training. But being a warrior does not mean that you will be a proper Guardian."
A hard look crossed the Magician's face. He may not have been an Ahsan, as the other was, but it made him no less fit to be a Guardian. "And just what does it mean to be a 'proper' Guardian?"
"Many things. It is more than merely protecting your partner from whatever dangers he may encounter. You are bonded to him for life. He will look to you for advice, judgement, answers to his questions, comfort, friendship. Can you provide all these?"
"Anything I can give to Yami, I will."
"But will it be enough?"
Sihrr was silent, eyes fixed on the middle distance. Underneath his anger, doubts and fears boiled inside him, each bubble containing a situation in which he had failed in his duty. They burst into accusing questions. What would he say when Yami sought his advice? How could he guide his partner when he was not sure himself? Was this truly the destiny he needed to fulfill? He could suddenly feel the weight of his decision to follow this path press down on him but he kept his appearance neutral. He was keenly aware that his silence implied his uncertainty but he would be damned to the darkest regions of the Realm before he let it show. Especially not to the Ahsan Elder.
"Will it be enough?" Azrak repeated.
"I will make sure it is."
"And how would you do that?"
Each question pushed the Azima farther into a corner of doubt and frustration. He couldn't let this arrogant opponent win; he had to stand his ground. Anger and instincts took over. "What gives you the right to demand these answers?"
"Yu-gi-oh is my partner's son. The pharaoh's concern is my concern."
"I believe you are over-stepping your boundaries, Elder. If the pharaoh were troubled about his son, he would be the one questioning me. If you doubt me so much, why help me escape from the Council in the first place? I am Yami's Guardian, even if I am a Karrah." Sihrr spat out the last word.
"Is that what you think this is about?"
"Isn't it? That is the reason I am an outcast. I am a warrior of the Azima and therefore unworthy and incompetent to be a Guardian. Such has always been the narrow-minded thinking of the Ahsan. Every other clan is below yours. Have you ever stopped to think of how your borders are kept safe from the Shadows? It is because we, the Azima, are the guardians of the Sahrae. Our warriors protect your way of life. We are your guardians. The destiny of the Guardian may not be mine by birthright but I am Yami's Guardian. I will be more than just a proper Guardian. By my honour as an Azima, I will be there to Guide him through fire and Shadow if that is where his path takes us." Sihrr drew a ragged breath. A warm wetness dripped from his clenched fists. Dimly, he realized it was blood from wounds his fingernails had made.
"I expect no less from an Azima."
"What?"
"You swear to be more than just a 'proper' Guardian. I hold you to your vow, Magician. You will be my apprentice."
Confusion replaced anger. "What are you talking about?"
"I will teach you to be a Guardian."
"I don't need you."
"You need guidance."
"What makes you think that?"
"No Being is born knowing how to be a Guardian. You need guidance, and I will provide it."
Sihrr was about to refuse when he remembered his doubts. He did need guidance. But to accept help from the Sage was swallowing too much pride. The Magician struggled to reconcile the two needs. In the end, it was reason that won over pride.
"I will accept your guidance, but only for my partner's sake."
It was the first time Sihrr had seen the Sage smile. "For whatever reasons, I will see to it that you learn to be a Guardian."
Personal Notes:
Nicole: thank you so much for the advice on the ending. =) The turning point was when I read your comment about how pissed off Sihrr should've been and something just clicked; I'm MUCH happier with it now. This scene is dedicated to you. ^^
Maria: thank you so much for saying you love my story. =) I know I sound awfully needy when I say this, but genuinely, you're one of the reviewers that keep me going. I had a look at your story, Cries of an Ancient Heart- it's wonderful. I hope you continue with it, and I hope you won't mind if I draw inspiration for my own story from it.
Rainbowscale: You're welcome; because it's true.