My Home, Egypt
The clamor of war cries soon filed the air. As Isis came back from fetching the weapons, she had to zigzag her way to Yami's chambers. The halls were filled with other servants, rushing back and forth to get to their employers. As she entered Yami's chambers, Yami had done some stretching, to warm himself up. She handed him the weapons, which he held tightly. She filled a flask of water, and handed it to him, which he fastened on his waist. A horn call was sounded, which cut through the crisp cool morning.
"I must go now." Yami told her. Isis nodded. She was now attending Stefan, who was catching his breath by now.
Yami swept out of the room, and went off to the stables. He found his mare, which he called Feefi, saddled. The mare he always rode was good-natured, and obedient. He patted the horse as he swept onto her back. He urged the horse to a trot.
As he entered the battle, barbarians started to lunge at him. Feefi raised her hoofs and landed on the attacker standing in front of her rider, he fell, and did not rise. 'She must have crushed his windpipe,' Yami thought, 'It is a good thing that I changed the trainer.' He drew his first arrow, and notched it into his bow. He aimed carefully; knowing that Feefi would take care of the ones around him. He shot, shooting though a purpled robed man, a petty magician, gifted with magic. Purpled robed men were especially dangerous; they could make the sand before them alive, or cause fire to appear from their hands. However, they were carefully guarded, as once they were killed the magic would disappear. Weevil himself was a good magician; he was considered the best of them all, until Yami was born. Since then, he swore that he would kill him, to become the greatest magician of all time, and he could have the advantage of having the throne.
The sounds of swords hitting armor and bows making a thwack sound never ended. The sun was high, burning on everyone's backs, as they fought. Yami took a swig of water, and drew his sword, for he was out of arrows. Nearly all the fighters had switched to swords, they too had run out on arrows. Those who still had arrows were cut down, and those with swords battled against each other fiercely. Crimson colored blood dripped down the sand, coloring them. Some areas were already the color of old blood. Dead men who fought, horses who men had rode with pride, were on the floor, lifeless, cut with sword wounds, and some with arrows all over. The stench of the blood numbed almost all noses. There were areas were there were pools of blood, which meant that a great battle had taken place there.
Feefi was sweating heavily. She whinnied, as if telling Yami, 'Give me water!' Yami attacked the man in his way, as Feefi backed away, going in the direction of the Nile River.
The Nile River, was a mile or so away from the battle, a safer haven, than as the one back where they had just fought. The river was clear of the foul stench, and its waters ran, flowing down the sandy banks, giving life to creatures and plants. Yami himself got off the Feefi, to relieve her of the weight. The both of them needed a rest. He let his sword clamor onto the ground, blade with dry blood, quiver empty; energy all used up from fighting. He bent down to take a sip of water, when he heard a drawl.
"It is just as I prophesied."
Yami spun around, grabbing his sword.
"Meet your death, Yami."
"Weevil," Yami said, as though as he was spitting venom. "You coward. You tell your followers to fight for you, yet you cower here."
"Me? Cower? You must be kidding Yami. I'll tell you a joke, The sand around you is your deathbed."
"I will not be defeated. I fight for my people, not for myself."
"I can give you a piece of wisdom, the best magician fights with magic, not with petty swords. They fight because power is important."
"Wrong again Weevil, The best fighter, does not fight for himself, but fights for others."
"Is that so? Why don't we have a little fight ourselves? Ra's blessing on the one who wins."
"You foolish shaman! Ra blesses those who he thinks that he must bless, you can not tell the great gods and goddesses who to smile and shine on."
"Shaman? What shaman? I am the greatest magician to live!"
"Then let the fight begin. Let us see who is the greatest fighter!"
They drew their swords, circling each other cautiously.
Weevil lunged at Yami, who blocked him and returned the attack.
"Prepare to die!" Weevil cried as his sword cut Yami's right arm.
It drew blood quickly, as it dribbled down his arm. He cursed. Had he been careful, he would not have gotten this wound. Grey fire caught him, like a bubble. He cursed again; he had to rely on magic again. Weevil had enchanted the bubble so that it would suck out all of the air, so he could die. Yami uttered a word, and the gray fire disappeared. He pointed at Weevil, and uttered another word. A ball of flames, the color of the sun wrapped around Weevil. He screamed. Yami took his dagger, which he had with him all the time, always hidden in his belt and threw it at the heart of the flames. As his purple eyes watched, the flames finally died down. Leaving nothing but black remains. Where Weevil had been, was all black.
The world spun around Yami. His footsteps weren't so steady anymore. He fell, into the sand, closing his eyes into darkness.
* * *
He opened his eyes sometime later, lying on his bed, with the steady drip- drip-drip of water. A candle was lighted, making the room very dim. As he cleared his mind, he tried to remember how he got there.
"Majesty? Are you feeling ok?" said Isis softly, carrying a bowl of something.
Yami groaned, "What happened?"
"I do not know Majesty! All I was told was that Feefi, your mare, had carried you, unconscious back to the palace."
Yami smiled weakly. No doubt his horse was loyal. Isis pressed a damp cloth near a blood-clotted wound. He winced, "What is that?"
"Majesty, it is a herb that we commoners use to heal wounds."
A man, pudgy, and short, strode into the room, knocking Isis aside, causing her to spill the bowls contents. The man looked at her, put his nose high in the air and said, "Clean that up before it spills onto my royal feet."
"Yes Majesty," she replied. She went to get a rag, while the man started to speak.
"Yami! Are you alright?"
Yami sat up, rolling his eyes, "It's just a nick, father. I am fine."
"You'd better be." Tristan muttered. "I expect a report tomorrow morning." He left the room in a hurry.
Isis came back, with a rag to clean the mess up.
"Do ignore my father, he is a bigot."
"Majesty! Please don't say ill of your father. I'm sure he has his reasons."
Yami grumbled. He was in a bad mood. His father knew that he hated doing reports. He flopped back onto the pallet.
"I just hate it when he does that!"
"Majesty?"
"Here I am, fighting for the land, while he is taking his so-called-royal bath, then he comes in and tells me to write a report. I must be a fool!"
"Majesty! You are no fool; you did what you thought had to be done! When you went out to fight, I thought it was very brave of you!"
"Was not!" he retorted, "I did it because I have to!"
"Yeah right Yami!" Isis retorted back.
Yami blinked. He was about to retort something back, but he closed his mouth. He smiled and started to hum a little tune. He flopped back onto the pallet.
"What?" she asked, irritated.
"You just called me Yami!"
"You said I could!"
"But!"
"So I have a right to be different!"
He smiled, and shook his head.
"Whatever you say. I'll just toss some parchment into the fire and hand the remains to my father or something, I'm going to sleep."
He turned over and closed his eyes.
"Hmm, how? You'd probably have nightmare or something. Hmm, about the loss of our people?" Isis asked. "Or, you'd watch more blood spill onto the sand."
He sat back up. "Hey! Quit giving me nightmares!"
"I'm just trying to help!" Isis teased.
"Hmph."
"Ok, ok!"
"Now how am I going to go to sleep? Thanks to someone, I'm going to have nightmares."
"You are going to sleep. I promise you. Priest Seto gave me something while you were unconscious. It's a sleeping draft. Guaranteed to let you sleep instantly, without nightmares." She handed him a bowl of clear liquid.
He brought the bowl to his nose and gave a cautious sniff.
"Are you sure it's not poison or something?"
She shook her head and smiled.
"Good Night Yami. May Ra smile on you." Isis said as she blew out the candle. She left the room, silently, closing the door behind her.
The clamor of war cries soon filed the air. As Isis came back from fetching the weapons, she had to zigzag her way to Yami's chambers. The halls were filled with other servants, rushing back and forth to get to their employers. As she entered Yami's chambers, Yami had done some stretching, to warm himself up. She handed him the weapons, which he held tightly. She filled a flask of water, and handed it to him, which he fastened on his waist. A horn call was sounded, which cut through the crisp cool morning.
"I must go now." Yami told her. Isis nodded. She was now attending Stefan, who was catching his breath by now.
Yami swept out of the room, and went off to the stables. He found his mare, which he called Feefi, saddled. The mare he always rode was good-natured, and obedient. He patted the horse as he swept onto her back. He urged the horse to a trot.
As he entered the battle, barbarians started to lunge at him. Feefi raised her hoofs and landed on the attacker standing in front of her rider, he fell, and did not rise. 'She must have crushed his windpipe,' Yami thought, 'It is a good thing that I changed the trainer.' He drew his first arrow, and notched it into his bow. He aimed carefully; knowing that Feefi would take care of the ones around him. He shot, shooting though a purpled robed man, a petty magician, gifted with magic. Purpled robed men were especially dangerous; they could make the sand before them alive, or cause fire to appear from their hands. However, they were carefully guarded, as once they were killed the magic would disappear. Weevil himself was a good magician; he was considered the best of them all, until Yami was born. Since then, he swore that he would kill him, to become the greatest magician of all time, and he could have the advantage of having the throne.
The sounds of swords hitting armor and bows making a thwack sound never ended. The sun was high, burning on everyone's backs, as they fought. Yami took a swig of water, and drew his sword, for he was out of arrows. Nearly all the fighters had switched to swords, they too had run out on arrows. Those who still had arrows were cut down, and those with swords battled against each other fiercely. Crimson colored blood dripped down the sand, coloring them. Some areas were already the color of old blood. Dead men who fought, horses who men had rode with pride, were on the floor, lifeless, cut with sword wounds, and some with arrows all over. The stench of the blood numbed almost all noses. There were areas were there were pools of blood, which meant that a great battle had taken place there.
Feefi was sweating heavily. She whinnied, as if telling Yami, 'Give me water!' Yami attacked the man in his way, as Feefi backed away, going in the direction of the Nile River.
The Nile River, was a mile or so away from the battle, a safer haven, than as the one back where they had just fought. The river was clear of the foul stench, and its waters ran, flowing down the sandy banks, giving life to creatures and plants. Yami himself got off the Feefi, to relieve her of the weight. The both of them needed a rest. He let his sword clamor onto the ground, blade with dry blood, quiver empty; energy all used up from fighting. He bent down to take a sip of water, when he heard a drawl.
"It is just as I prophesied."
Yami spun around, grabbing his sword.
"Meet your death, Yami."
"Weevil," Yami said, as though as he was spitting venom. "You coward. You tell your followers to fight for you, yet you cower here."
"Me? Cower? You must be kidding Yami. I'll tell you a joke, The sand around you is your deathbed."
"I will not be defeated. I fight for my people, not for myself."
"I can give you a piece of wisdom, the best magician fights with magic, not with petty swords. They fight because power is important."
"Wrong again Weevil, The best fighter, does not fight for himself, but fights for others."
"Is that so? Why don't we have a little fight ourselves? Ra's blessing on the one who wins."
"You foolish shaman! Ra blesses those who he thinks that he must bless, you can not tell the great gods and goddesses who to smile and shine on."
"Shaman? What shaman? I am the greatest magician to live!"
"Then let the fight begin. Let us see who is the greatest fighter!"
They drew their swords, circling each other cautiously.
Weevil lunged at Yami, who blocked him and returned the attack.
"Prepare to die!" Weevil cried as his sword cut Yami's right arm.
It drew blood quickly, as it dribbled down his arm. He cursed. Had he been careful, he would not have gotten this wound. Grey fire caught him, like a bubble. He cursed again; he had to rely on magic again. Weevil had enchanted the bubble so that it would suck out all of the air, so he could die. Yami uttered a word, and the gray fire disappeared. He pointed at Weevil, and uttered another word. A ball of flames, the color of the sun wrapped around Weevil. He screamed. Yami took his dagger, which he had with him all the time, always hidden in his belt and threw it at the heart of the flames. As his purple eyes watched, the flames finally died down. Leaving nothing but black remains. Where Weevil had been, was all black.
The world spun around Yami. His footsteps weren't so steady anymore. He fell, into the sand, closing his eyes into darkness.
* * *
He opened his eyes sometime later, lying on his bed, with the steady drip- drip-drip of water. A candle was lighted, making the room very dim. As he cleared his mind, he tried to remember how he got there.
"Majesty? Are you feeling ok?" said Isis softly, carrying a bowl of something.
Yami groaned, "What happened?"
"I do not know Majesty! All I was told was that Feefi, your mare, had carried you, unconscious back to the palace."
Yami smiled weakly. No doubt his horse was loyal. Isis pressed a damp cloth near a blood-clotted wound. He winced, "What is that?"
"Majesty, it is a herb that we commoners use to heal wounds."
A man, pudgy, and short, strode into the room, knocking Isis aside, causing her to spill the bowls contents. The man looked at her, put his nose high in the air and said, "Clean that up before it spills onto my royal feet."
"Yes Majesty," she replied. She went to get a rag, while the man started to speak.
"Yami! Are you alright?"
Yami sat up, rolling his eyes, "It's just a nick, father. I am fine."
"You'd better be." Tristan muttered. "I expect a report tomorrow morning." He left the room in a hurry.
Isis came back, with a rag to clean the mess up.
"Do ignore my father, he is a bigot."
"Majesty! Please don't say ill of your father. I'm sure he has his reasons."
Yami grumbled. He was in a bad mood. His father knew that he hated doing reports. He flopped back onto the pallet.
"I just hate it when he does that!"
"Majesty?"
"Here I am, fighting for the land, while he is taking his so-called-royal bath, then he comes in and tells me to write a report. I must be a fool!"
"Majesty! You are no fool; you did what you thought had to be done! When you went out to fight, I thought it was very brave of you!"
"Was not!" he retorted, "I did it because I have to!"
"Yeah right Yami!" Isis retorted back.
Yami blinked. He was about to retort something back, but he closed his mouth. He smiled and started to hum a little tune. He flopped back onto the pallet.
"What?" she asked, irritated.
"You just called me Yami!"
"You said I could!"
"But!"
"So I have a right to be different!"
He smiled, and shook his head.
"Whatever you say. I'll just toss some parchment into the fire and hand the remains to my father or something, I'm going to sleep."
He turned over and closed his eyes.
"Hmm, how? You'd probably have nightmare or something. Hmm, about the loss of our people?" Isis asked. "Or, you'd watch more blood spill onto the sand."
He sat back up. "Hey! Quit giving me nightmares!"
"I'm just trying to help!" Isis teased.
"Hmph."
"Ok, ok!"
"Now how am I going to go to sleep? Thanks to someone, I'm going to have nightmares."
"You are going to sleep. I promise you. Priest Seto gave me something while you were unconscious. It's a sleeping draft. Guaranteed to let you sleep instantly, without nightmares." She handed him a bowl of clear liquid.
He brought the bowl to his nose and gave a cautious sniff.
"Are you sure it's not poison or something?"
She shook her head and smiled.
"Good Night Yami. May Ra smile on you." Isis said as she blew out the candle. She left the room, silently, closing the door behind her.