Aria of the Divine
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! And all related characters therein do not belong to me. They belong to Kazuki Takahashi. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: From birth, Marik Ishtar has been bound to fate. As he struggles to forge his own path...to regain a lost power...he becomes entangled in a war between gods, and the Millennium Rod may just have a plan of its own.
Author's Note: Well, not too much to say here. Sorry this chapter's a bit late...I have been house-sitting for some friends, and I didn't get to updating yesterday. I'm working on chapter five, but I am entirely positive it will be out when I planned for it to be. However, it WILL come. I absolutely refuse to abandon this story. My plans are too big to just give it up. Anyway, I hope you enjoy chapter four, and here is the response to my review!
IcyPanther: Lol. Yeah, school can be a pain. It just gets in the way of everything! I don't mind if you call him Malik. To each her own! As for Yami Marik...well...you'll just have to wait and see! Isis probably will be out of it for a while...I don't really mind. She's hard enough to write as it is! I'm just happy that the focus is going back to Marik. I don't know as I'll put Ryou in...I don't think he ever went to Egypt with his father, because he had to wait for his father to send the Ring to him. Good idea, though. I didn't get to see the english version of Seto getting his dragon, but I did watch the Japanese version. Seto is awesome no matter what! I want to give him a hug.
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Chapter Four "The Sanctuary's Berceuse"
Berceuse: a lullaby in lilting triple or compound time
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Isis sat in the middle of the Main Hall, her legs crossed and hands folded neatly in her lap. From here, she could watch as the other family members rushed about, trying to figure out what to do, where to look, and creating an interim pundit. Badr had been the one closest to Abdul-Qahhar, so he was the one that ended up giving the orders—logical, simple ones so that not everything would fall into utter chaos.
'It's too late,' Isis thought. 'He's already gone.'
The walls and floor of the Main Hall—of the entire complex—were spidered with giant cracks and sink holes that signified the Rod's departure. The spells that had kept the manor strong and alive had been completely decimated, with any remaining magic weak and fading fast. Isis watched her cousins, aunts and uncles, hasten about as they tried to repair the damage, but the Rod had torn away from its cage, and it took special time to make sure those very bars were incinerated in the process. After nearly three thousand years, the final death strike had been delivered to their sanctuary. It had happened all in a moment...with the same ease as to rip a piece of paper, or cut the ribbon on a balloon...and they only had two years left.
Isis did not question how she knew, or even the fact that she should know at all, but she knew that it would only be two years before erosion and the weighty desert above would force the ceilings to collapse and finish the manor forever. The tunnels simply were not strong enough, and without the magic to support them...the land was tired, and the Rod's rebellion was enough so not even a grain of sand could retain the simplest spell...there was not the energy for it. It had become a dead land.
Two years.
But until then, something had to be done.
'I have foreseen this.'
Standing slowly, Isis dusted off her dress and circled back up the stairs onto the platform, her ascent unnoticed by those around her. She straightened, ignoring the small darts of pain in her feet by the cracks and pebbles on the floor, and walked to the banister to rest her hands on the splintered stone. Badr was standing near her, as haggard and lost as any had ever seen him. Isis stood a moment, looking over the hall before speaking.
"Badr."
"Yes?"
"Call them back. All of them. Even those searching for my brother."
Badr turned, giving the First Daughter a questioning stare.
"May I ask why?"
The light hardened in Isis' eyes, and her grip tightened on the rail.
"I have something important to say."
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Marik's lungs burned as he sprinted across the sand, the earth pulling at his ankles. It was hot and he was tired, but the setting sun was behind him, and he could see clearly. He was only a mile and a half into his flight before he saw the dark shapes of the ancient ruins—the remains of the village that had first built the well. Consisting of only a few large blocks of stone, the ruins were small enough to not attract the attention of nosey historians, but were large enough to provide adequate hiding spaces.
With a quick check over his shoulder, Marik crouched down amongst the weather-worn slabs and paused to catch his breath. He did not know how long it would take before his family came this way searching for him, but he hoped the evening winds would erase his tracks. Rubbing the sand away from his eyes, Marik scanned the area for a place to hide until nightfall. He was young, but he was also an Ishtar, and he was proficient in the art of knowing how and when to disappear.
Most of the stones rested at simple angles: either completely horizontal or vertical, providing shade at best, but after a few long minutes, Marik found that one stone had fallen and landed in a shallow lean against another. It was the perfect crawl space, but experience had taught Marik not to delve into a dark hollow, and he quickly pulled out the Rod to extend it in first. A guttural hiss welcomed the Rod's presence, and Marik pulled quickly back. He could see, just outside the reach of the sunlight, a lithe, pale, buff-colored mass curling angrily around itself. Marik involuntarily gulped, and tightened his grip on the Rod. He had had an encounter with this species of snake once before...and it had nearly cost him his life.
Unconciously rubbing the twin scars on his shin, Marik summoned his courage and creeped forward again. The hissing started once more, soon joined by the alarming sound of keeled scales being rubbed together. Knowing that he needed the spot for himself, Marik thrust the Rod back inside, hooked the snake around the flares, and pulled it out. The Horned Desert Viper reared the upper quarter of its body up as he did so and struck out with lightening quickness. Marik dropped the Rod and let it fall to the sand, the viper still coiling around it.
After a few moments of frantic searching, Marik ripped the hood from his robes and stretched his arm out to the side to shake the thick cloth. The snake reacted instantly, jerking its head over to fix its stare on the hood, its tongue flickering wildly in and out. With the viper distracted, Marik reached down and grabbed it by the tail, pulling it vertical and untangling it from the Rod. He dropped the cloth and took up the Item, making sure to keep the viper well away from his body. Marik thumbed at the Rod's sheath, loosening it so it fell away and revealed the dagger within. Kicking the hollow piece of metal to the side, Marik carefully lowered the snake and positioned it on the ground, distracting it for a moment with his foot so he could fall down on it and send the Rod through the top of the viper's head.
With a deep sigh of relief, Marik gathered up the sheath and sat back on his heels. A wet heat pricked at the back of his eyes, but he choked it back and dragged himself forward into the crawl space. Wiping the blade off on his robes, Marik resheathed the Rod and collapsed onto his side to clutch the Item to his chest. It was cool and soft in the shade, and Marik did his best to try and fall asleep. He would remain in that spot until nightfall, when he would make his final run for Suez.
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The Main Hall was now filled with people, all unusually quiet and casting suspicious glances up at Isis. A few had tried to question her, but she ignored all inquiries until Badr announced to her that everyone was present.
"My name is Isis Ishtar," she began, her soft voice filling the cavernous room. "And I am herefore claiming the right to be the formal Heir."
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly from a questioning peace to a deep anxiety.
"There has never been a female Heir before..." one of Isis' uncles, Chisisi, said ponderously. Chisisi was one of the older members of the family, his silver hair accounting for that fact. He was standing atop the dais, very near the doorway, and giving Isis' back a calculating stare. Isis did not seem to hear him, and she continued.
"My father, Abdul-Qahhar, is dead, and my brother has abandoned us. I am the next."
"Isis, are you sure this is the right time for this?" Badr whispered into her ear.
"This is the perfect time," she replied, never once looking at him. "And if any of you doubt me..."
Isis paused and reached into her pocket to pull out the Millennium Tauk. There were several unrestrained gasps, accompanied by no small number of curses.
"My brother may have the Rod, but I have the Tauk. Only an Ishtar Heir may claim this, and if any of you wish to challenge my blood..." Isis wrapped the Tauk around her neck and clasped it, turning a challenging glower on those gathered in the room. "Take it from me!"
At first, no one moved....they were too stunned. But this was no sign of victory.
"He who can take the Tauk from me I will bow to as the new Heir. If no one succeeds, I claim the right."
A flew long minutes passed before one of Isis' half-blooded cousins stepped hesitantly forward. He began to sweat as he climbed the stairs, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. Isis watched him calmly, making no movement until he stood directly in front of her and reached out to take the Tauk. Isis' hand shot up, tightly grasping his wrist.
"Yafeu," she addressed, her voice no louder than a whisper. "Time is a fickle thing, wouldn't you agree? It's constantly flowing past us and yet we're all stuck in this one moment of 'present.' I wonder what would happen...if there was no such thing as the passing of time. It everything was...now." Isis dropped Yafeu's wrist, and he reflexively went forward, his fingers halting against the Tauk. The beads of sweat on his forehead almost tripled in volume, and his breathing became heavier and more frantic with each moment. Tremors ran through his muscles even as his spine went rigid, and his teeth began to chatter under a stiff jaw.
With a shriek of pain, Yafeu pulled violently away, falling backwards and collapsing against the banister. No one moved to help him.
An eternity passed before another stepped forward: Chatha, a cousing of Isis' long dead mother. Like Yafeu, Chatha ascended the stairs and took his stance in front of Isis. And like Yafeu, his hand was stopped before he could touch the Tauk.
"Memories are a very important part of who we are," Isis said. "They are our link to the past, and are really our only record of it. Without them, the past is erased. With no past there is no present and with no present there is no future. And it is strange that such an important thing can be changed...altered to block what we do not wish to see. But at the same time, they can never truly be purged. Like a scorned lover they return with a vengeance, just when you least expect or least need them. Those painful memories trap you, and you are bound by the one thing you can never escape: your own past!"
Isis let Chatha grab the Tauk, but he could not pull away with it. Rather, his eyes grew wide and he began to shake wildly...as though he was having a waking nightmare.
"No," he gasped. "No...please stop...no more. No more!"
Chatha finally let go of the Tauk and consequently fell to his knees in front of Isis, his eyes locked on the ground and shoulders heaving with labored breath.
"Bad dream?" Isis asked, and Chatha flinched.
One by one, each family member tried to take the Tauk from Isis...and each individual ended invariably the same way: collapsed or doubled over from the strain of the mental assault. Some out right fainted, and it would take no small number weeks to fully recover. Only Badr, Chisisi, and Isis' grandfater Hanif did not try to take the Tauk. They watched with respectful calculation and enough sense to not endanger themselves.
"It is set, then," Isis announced. "I am the Heir. There shall be no furthur challenges to my blood, and I shall be followed without question."
With a pointed look at Badr, Isis swept out of the Main Hall and back through the Dining Hall to go back to her room. As the sound of the heavy doors slamming resounded through the room, Badr moved over to Hanif and Chisisi, his hem sweeping across the unconcious.
"What should we do about Marik?" he asked in a low voice.
"Nothing for now," Chisisi said. "We don't have the resources for it."
"How far do you think he'll go?" Hanif mused aloud.
"We've already managed to search the local village...no one has seen him. But I'm not surprised. He's better than that."
"And if he's not at the village to the south?" Badr asked.
"Then there's nothing but desert for miles in every direction. Marik was trained well, but even he can't hide from the sun," Chisisi answered.
"But night is falling. He'll have a head start."
"He had a head start as soon as he touched that infernal Rod."
"The Rod isn't what I'm concerned about," Hanif interrupted. "I think that...there are more important issues that we must now deal with."
Chisisi looked at Hanif out of the corner of his eyes, his lips thinning.
"I agree," he said at length. "Badr, stay here and help them." He motioned towards the unconcious before leaving the Hall with Hanif. Badr only watched them go, his eyes narrowing before leaning over to go about his duty.
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Hanif and Chisisi made their way through the corridors, dodging the pieces of rubble and waiting until they were well away from the Main Hall before they started speaking.
"Do you think it's wise?" Chisisi asked, knowing that Hanif needed to explanation of his question.
"It's the only option we have. I know the Rod would rebel, but I didn't think it would happen this quickly. The good thing, though, is that Isis has the Tauk."
"Do you think she'll do it?"
"Yes. She still cares for Marik, and she'll want to help him."
"......Will it be enough?"
"Well, I don't think that the Millennium Puzzle has been solved yet, wherever it is. We would know if it had been. It will buy us time, if anything."
"You're saying someone already has the Puzzle?"
Hanif did not answer directly, but sighed heavily.
"The end is coming. I do know that. What matters now is that we play our cards right so that it ends our way. And the first card.....Isis!" Hanif called out, his voice raising to summon his granddaughter. Isis stopped and turned, her fists clenching at the sight of them.
"Yes, grandfather? Will it be you as well?"
"No, child," Hanif answered, closing the gap between them and yet keeping a polite distance. "I was hoping you'd listen to a suggestion your uncle and I have."
Isis frowned, but did not turn away.
"Actually, it's more of a proposition. We may know of a way for you to help Marik. In fact, we could help everyone."
"...I'm listening."
"It's a bit of a long story. Won't you join us in the Library?"
Nodding once, Isis followed her uncle and grandfather to the south end of the manor, where the Library sat...its shelves mostly empty of everything but dust.
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The desert night was like red wine: light, dry, and bitter. Hunger stirred in Marik's stomach as a numbing fatigue settled in his bones. He had gotten an early start on the evening, rousing himself out of an uneasy rest just as the sun was setting. The ocean of dunes had seemed less formidable, then, but now it was turning cold, and he was thirsty. Silence followed Marik across the sand, with only the Rod giving any shade of company. The Rod was not heavy, but Marik's constant grip on it sent severe cramps through his fingers. The Item was also strangely quiet, though it was not the disinterested silence of the desert. With each mental nudge Marik gave, he was returned the air of someone thinking of something else.
For hours Marik traveled, his mind filled with fervent hopes that he was going in the right direction. The minutes glazed over him like syrup, and tremors began to wrack his thighs and shoulders. He had never exercised so hard in his life, and the strain was shortening his breath. Each step grew shorter and slower, so the moon had long since passed its zenith before Marik found the road.
He first saw the lights—a dim orange glow that rimmed the top of a dune.
Quickly dropping to his hands and knees, Marik crawled up the side of the dune, raising his head just enough to peer over the edge.
The rest stop and refueling station was the only one for miles—the halfway point between Suez and Cairo, becoming a modern oasis for weary drivers. Marik's place in the sand was far enough away that he could not be seen, but could just catch parts of conversations, when they spoke loudly enough.
The trucks that were parked outside were larger than any vehicle Marik had ever seen, but any hint of interest towards them was pushed aside at the promise of food and water inside. Giving a lick to his dry lips, Marik slid down the dune and stopped in a quiet heap at the base. The ground had become rough and sturdy beneath his feet; a testimony to the road that was slowly being taken over by the shifting sands. The street lights surrounding the area were bright, and they hummed quietly as they created large halos of orange illumination on the ground. The pools of light were revealing, but beyond their boundaries, the night was as black as a blind man's world. Marik stayed well within these shadows, and kept hidden as he approached the back of the rest stop. From this vantage point he could see in through the building's windows, and he trembled at the thought of water. All he needed was to get in undetected.
Marik's schemes to get inside were interrupted as the side door was kicked wide open. Out stepped one of the rest stop's employees, who was grumbling under his breath and carrying a large trash bag. Sensing his opportunity, Marik waited until the man was all the way to the dumpster so he could quickly sneak in.
The back room was fairly small, and it only had one light, so Marik was able to easily disappear among the numerous boxes and pallets. He shrank as far back as he could go while the employee returned and passed through to go back up front. When all was quiet, Marik heaved a sigh of relief and sat back to relax. Looking around, he could see that most of the products were wrapped in loose brown paper, and Marik reached up to tear a strip away. Revealed was a number of boxes of crackers, and though the writing on it was incomprehensible to Marik, the pictures were enough incentive for him to rip open the box and start eating the pale wafers. They were hardly filling, but they were salty, and it calmed his upset stomach.
Cases of bottled water were only a few feet away, and Marik quickly drank a bottle before finally slowing his intake. It would only make him more ill in the long run, and sickness was not something he could afford. A few muffled voices made Marik freeze in his tracks, and when the sound of a door opening reached his ears, he rushed to hide his activity and slink back into a tiny alcove. He covered his mouth to quiet his breathing, and he clutched at the Rod with desperate hope that he would not be found.
"You're lucky I was able to get these cases in. I had to order a rush delivery."
"Thank you for doing it. We had a late customer request, and we couldn't delay the delivery date for the others. It's a long enough drive from Suez, as it is."
Centuries of isolation had given the Ishtars a different sort of egyptian dialect—an extremely archaic form of arabic that had evolved on its own into almost a completely unique language. Marik could not understand what the two men were saying, but the names of cities never changed, and he straightened at the mention of Suez. Risking discovery, Marik crawled forward a few inches and craned his neck out to listen for more mentions of the port city.
"Are you going to be staying a few hours?" the first voice asked.
"No. Not this time. I have to get Cairo by tomorrow morning, and then back to Suez the following day. Thanks for ordering the cases, you're a life saver."
"I'll help you load them."
Marik retreated back into the recess as a man came near to retrieve a pallet jack and giving Marik a flash of a bright red shirt. The boy kept a tight rein on his emotions until the two disappeared, their voices fading as the door shut. Marik licked his lips nervously, hands wringing along the Rod. He had heard the second man mention Suez several times, leaving Marik to conclude that it was there the man was headed to. Coming to his decision within seconds, Marik escaped back out through the side door and ran to the front of the building, making sure to keep low and in the shadows.
From his stopping point near a vending machine, Marik scanned the forest of trucks until he saw two men, one with a red shirt and trailing a case of product behind him. Steeling his nerves, Marik followed them to a smaller delivery truck...one with a large tarp as the back covering. A silent prayer of thanks ran through Marik's mind, and he crouched beside a larger truck's tire to wait. The men quickly added the crate to the truck's cargo, and they said their farewells. The owner of the rest stop turned around to go back inside, and the driver walked back up to the front. With speed beyond anything he had ever done before, Marik ran to the truck and stepped up by the bumper. He squeezed in between the tarp and the truck's side wall, and he collapsed against the cargo in a undeniable surge of relief. He had made it...he was escaping to Suez, and he would finally be free of his danger.
The truck was started and it lurched into the road, knocking Marik painfully against the boxes. Shaking it off, Marik climbed on top of one of the lower rising stacks and curled up. The roar of the engine and rockings were disconcerting at first, but it was not long before the sound of the wind and the feel of the tires on the road lulled Marik into a deep sleep.
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To be continued.
Meanings of names are thus:
Yafeu: (egyptian) "Bold"
Chisisi: (egyptian) "Secret"
Hanif: (egyptian) "Believes"
Chatha: (egyptian) "Ends"
