For those who care:

            Sorry about the long wait for updates, uh, person-who-wrote-that-review. ^^;;;; When my friend had this story posted, I didn't think anyone cared, and I took my time working on it.  This is my first fanfic ever, and---no, I am not going to whine and show my needy nature yet again. I won't I tell ya!

Anyway, this fic was very, very hard to write, so please. Review it. I don't even care if they are bad reviews. Knowledge that someone out there cares is what keeps me going.

Alright, I'll stop whining now.

Chapter 6: Téana the Graceful

Sarah and Alex stood, looking long at the carving on the wall. A life size portrait of the young Pharaoh. He was not a tall boy, but his vivid hair made up for that. His eyes were painted violet. 

"So…that's the guy, huh? Am I crazy or does it feel like…"

"I know what you mean," said Sarah.

"My children!" beckoned the Professor. He was crouched on the floor, an open bag in front of him and a water bottle in his hand.

Alex and Sarah suddenly became aware of just how thirsty they were. The professor had to warn them to drink slowly, to accustom their bodies to water again. 

"How long have we been in here?" asked Sarah.

The Professor reluctantly looked at his watch. "It is after three in the morning. All day, and most of the night."

Alex's stomach gave a loud rumble.

All three exchanged glances. A deafening silence fell.

It was Sarah who broke it. "We can't leave now. Not when we are so close to what we have been looking for…somehow I feel I've waited my entire life for this day."

Alex tried to smother the complaints of his stomach. "I know what you mean, Sare'. Somehow…I feel this place is important to me. At first I thought it was my imagination, but…" he shook his head. "Maybe I'm just going crazy."

"Not unless we are all going crazy," said Sarah, cracking a smile.

"A possibility I would not rule out just yet," said Champollion. He had found some smoked pork in his bag and doled it out quickly.

The last torch had gone out. All they had now were the candles.

Champollion took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes and forehead. There were lines of age around his eyes, many more then a thirty-year old should have.

"Professor, are you all right?" asked Sarah.

The professor opened his eyes and smiled at her. "I'm fine. All the translating in the darkness is tough on my eye, that's all. I'm a little tired, but I'll be fine." However, a force deeper and darker then fatigue had begun to cast its shadow on the professor.

He sensed that Sarah did not believe him. He stood up, stretching and yawning hugely. "Well, shall we get back to it?"

There was a good deal still to see in the room. Each of the stone pillars told the story of a different duel fought by the young Pharaoh. Informative as these texts no doubt were, they did not have time to translate them all, for Alex had come across something on the far wall which made his heart stop (figuratively speaking, of course.)

"Sarah! Doc!"

"What is it Alex?"

"What is the matter, Alexander…mon dieu!"

They stared at the engraving on the wall. It showed three people, standing around the image of the Pharaoh. It was all profile because that's the way Egyptian art was, but the likeness was unmistakable.

"It's us," whispered Sarah.

There was yellow paint on the head of the young man's image. The girl's short hair was russet red. She had her arms around the image of the crowned pharaoh, and was smiling. The blond boy grinned in the background. A little ways off was a taller boy, wearing a purple headdress over his short brown hair and a flaring blue cloak. This could only be Seto. He wasn't exactly smiling, but there was something in his expression that managed to convey benevolence.

Looking for an explanation, Champollion began to read the texts surrounding the life-size images.

Their names were Téana and Jono, and they were the Pharaoh's dearest friends. 

Sarah and Alex stared as the professor relayed the story about their meeting with the boy king.

In those days, people with red hair were thought to be demons on earth, wielders of black magic. Although by now this idea was fading in comparison to the abundance of real magic in the land (After you have stared down the maw of a fire-breathing dragon summoned from the stones, one red-headed kid holds few terrors), but still, in one small southern province a young girl with russet red hair was going to be executed as a demon. Terrified, her family sent their daughter away, to Lisht in the Fayum, where the new capital had been established. It was under the direct jurisdiction of the Pharaoh, and the small province she was from had to send an envoy to the Pharaoh to ask for permission before she could be taken back and executed. Not wanting to "trouble the king over such a small matter," some men were sent to retrieve her from under his nose. This was foiled when some of the king's guards heard the girl screaming and came to investigate. The soldiers took the girl back to the palace with them, and the case went before the king anyway.     

The Pharaoh called her forward. A slim girl, part of a family of acrobats that traveled throughout the land entraining the nobles. A girl of no blood, but a sincere beauty with the poise of a dancer. She looked up at the boy king with wide, frightened eyes. There were tears running down her cheeks.

The Pharaoh scoffed at the envoy. The girl's hair was brown, not red, what did he think he was getting at? Still, if his people really wanted her, there were ways to deal with situations like this. And the girl was currently under his jurisdiction. The people of that province had no say over her right then, was that clear?

"Ye…yes, your majesty."

"Good. Then here is how this shall be resolved. Send your nomarch to face me in a duel. The victor will gain propriety of the girl."

The envoy was stunned. "But…your majesty…"

"This is the way arguments are settled when one province wants something belonging to another, correct?"

"Of course but…"

"Well, I am lord of Egypt. I am aware it is more typical for lords to select champions to duel in their place in small matters like this, but I do my own dueling, and I expect no less from the leader of the province that challenges me.  Tell your nomarch to win the girl in a duel, if he wants her so much." The challenging eyes were a blaze.

The envoy was daunted, much more daunted then he thought he could ever be by a twelve year old. Now he knew well why this boy king was called the son of a demon. In the two years since the boy had assumed the throne, his voice had already deepened from that of a boy to that of a commanding man. Much deeper and more resounding then one would guess, looking at his slight frame and small stature, this voice created a striking contrast which commanded attention, much like the crown on his head. Who knew what this strange creature really was…

  The envoy mumbled that he would speak with his nomarch immediately. The king nodded and told him he had until the moon was full to provide the duelist or the girl would go to him by default.

The nomarch, of course, declined. Propriety of one demon-girl was not so important that he was willing to put his life on the line in a match with the duelist whose skill was fabled to come directly from the gods. The girl became the property of the Fayum province, under the king.

They got to know each other. Her name was Tèana. The Pharaoh was a bit surprised to discover that underneath her kindness and poise, there was an indomitable spirit, quick temper, and the greatest capacity for belief he had ever seen. She never lost faith in her friends, even in the most hopeless situations. She observed him dueling. She was on the floor and watched; his punishments, his small defeats and eventual victories, and she never once saw him lose a match. She came to respect him, then admire him for his justice, for his courage, and for his heart.

 A long story short, they were soon great friends, and in her the Pharaoh discovered a powerful devotion, an unwavering faith that good would prevail. Her belief was so powerful it actually amplified the power and realism of his spells. He came to care for her greatly, and valued her as an ever-present source of support. With her by his side, he felt like he could accomplish anything. 

For a while she lived in the palace, but she discovered she didn't like being there all the time. It made her feel too much like an aristocrat. The pharaoh was loath to let her go, but allowed her to take up residence in the city with her family. She came to see him almost every day, and never failed to be present when he was dueling. She disliked seeing him put his life on the line like he did. At her urging, he accepted fewer duels, but those he did accept meant a lot more to him. Each pillar in the stone-grove of a room told the story of a different epic duel, and in almost every illustration she could be found somewhere.

Sarah was trembling. Champollion reached over and put his arm around her to keep her from falling down. Some of her russet-red hair had come loose from her ponytail and was falling in her eyes; shadowing the face that was the ancient illustration come to life…

They read on.

(End Chapter 6)