Ch. 5 War's Cry
"My Pharaoh," Seto cleared his throat, "I want to ask you about your Mejia, are they fit for war?" his dark azure eyes glinted coolly as he spoke. "I'm not certain," Yami muttered. "Then I shall have them retrained before the Syrians' attack." Seto then turned and left, his robe hissing on the bare floor.
Yami was sitting with Tibia, a teacher of etiquette whom his parents had long ago hired. Tibia had been hired before the death of his parents and now she lectured him daily on Pharaoh-like behavior. "Yami, dear, is something troubling you." She was polite in her asking. "Yes." He answered thoughtfully, knowing this wise woman could help him earn Malaya's true trust, eliminating her reproachful tolerance. "What, my boy, could be so trivial." To this, Yami answered, "Malaya." "Oh. That wretched Hellion, she's polite enough, but her language. How very vulgar for such a lovely, if not strange creature." She paused. "Whatever happened?" "I found out that she has a good excuse for her behavior. Malaya hates me…" he remembered the steely glint of the newcomer's eyes as she raged at him. "Yami, my dear, hatred is the flower of fear and depression. She seems to have had a harsh life, but she is more than likely to trust you after some time." "No." "Why do you say that?" so he told the aging teacher about his parents' destruction of Malaya's life. "Oh, my poor dear. You had nothing to do with it, and yet she blames you." The old crone was in tears.
Malaya sat outside in the garden, watching the Mejia train for the war. 'They have no skill.' she laughed inwardly as one tried to knock an arrow backwards. Yet when the Pharaoh came to train as well, she just shook her head, he was even worse at weaponry. Yami had finally knocked an arrow right when she wasn't paying attention, but when he fired, the arrow veered towards her. She turned to see a blur heading for her. Yami cried out, "Malaya!" he began to run towards her, hoping to stop the arrow. Then she caught it between two slender fingers, and busted out laughing. Yami froze, embarrassed by his own outburst. Behind him, Seto and the Mejia were snickering and taunting about 'Malaya and the Pharaoh's children…' he blushed darkly. Then he realized he had seen Malaya laugh, and was amazed when he recalled the beauty of her mirthful face. "Pharaoh? Are you awake?" A voice at his shoulder jolted him, "Yes." "Good. Now I can teach you and your pathetic group of perverts the right way to use a bow. "Wait… Malaya? What are you?" he felt heat rise in his face as her arms wrapped around him from behind. "Shut up. Now." She placed her hands over his. "Okay, Yami, this is where you knock the arrow just like before because I know you can." She allowed him to move her hands with his. "Aim. Wait… Where the HELL are you aiming?" Yami heard his warriors gasp at a woman using such language. She moved him into a slightly more comfortable pose which made his face darken even more, because her breath was on his neck and her body was lightly brushing his, it was such a slight touch, but he had never bedded a woman. Come to think of it, he had never had much time for them. "Now, on the count of three, release the arrow with all your power…. THREE!" he let go of arrow and drawstring and gaped as the arrow sliced a desert flower's head neatly from its stem before hitting a boulder and quivering there. "Better." Malaya whispered into his ear as she stepped back, "Try it on your own, now." She urged, her silver eyes glinting mystically. He tried, remembering all of the ways she had shifted and stepped, almost as if the weapon was a part of her. Then, he loosed the arrow. It flashed as it hit the target that had been set up by Seto. Malaya was beside him instantly, her smile catching him off guard, "That'll do, my Pharaoh. You have earned more respect than many will ever have from me. Teach that to your warriors." She turned, disappearing into the garden's depths and leaving him speechless.
------War Day-------Yami watched the warriors that were falling around him, arrows or blades stuck in their flesh, staining the sand red. He was losing to the Syrians, and he knew it. "Curse it!" he snapped as he knocked an arrow. It hit its mark perfectly, a Syrian commander. 'Malaya is an excellent weapons master… She even knew how to wield a sword…' he thought. That's when he noticed a tragedy, half of his men were dead or injured beyond repair, and the other half, save Seto, was diminishing quickly. Seto raced over to him, "Yami… We are losing…" he was quiet and angered strongly. "Monsters!" a Syrian suddenly screamed in fear, everyone froze, watching the otherworldly creatures drawn to the blood. "Shadow Realm beings… They sense the corpses… They hunger for souls, RUN!" one of the Mejia screamed, but he stopped as the monsters bypassed the Pharaoh's troops and attacked the Syrians first. Suddenly, Yami felt a pain in his stomach. All went dark and silent.
He woke. He recognized Lady Ender's chamber. Yet he did not notice the creature lying beside him, keeping him warmer than the blankets could. He didn't until he turned, anyway. "Whoa!" he yelped, looking at the bundle of hair and clothing on his right, "Whom… What… How…?" his mouth was opening and closing in shock. Malaya was lying next to him, her pale hair covering him along with the blankets. He studied her while she slept; all the while he was blushing. 'She's so peaceful… She is ethereal in a way… I want to… Touch her… And even though I don't know how I… Want to kiss her… While she sleeps…' he leaned closer to her slightly parted lips and lightly wrapped his arms around her slender frame, his hands gentle on her sleeping form. He draped his body over hers, hoping she would not wake. His lips lightly brushed her own, his tongue exploring her lips, memorizing the texture and taste. He was still kissing her when darkness claimed him once more.