Chapter 29: The Paths

Marik and Bakura moved slowly. The closet door had revealed a long stretching hallway, yet for some strange reason, all the doors were missing. All they could see were door frames in nice rectangle shapes, framing in more cream colored wall. It stretched on and on, seeming to have no end almost, and to make matters even worse, their was no light except that from the flash light Marik had found under the child's bed.

The thought of her made him wince and wonder why he had let his son even know where such a dangerous object was in his house. If he had never told him, Bakura and his family would've been safe now, and not in such a position. The guilt tore at him. Yet, he hoped with all his heart that things would turn out fine, and he would do anything in his power to make that so.

Including risking this hallway with his former partner.

Marik glanced at Bakura at the thought of this. He and Yami knew when Joey and Bakura disagreed about the doors that they would be splitting up in this fashion. They both knew the risk. Yet, Marik could see no other choice. It was better him here than Joey, after all. Bakura may be the only one with an item, but Marik at least new a little about the ancient magics, could detect them. He wasn't blind in that respect.

This was a little advantage. He knew that if anything happened to them that Yami would protect Joey with his item. Unfortunately, Marik wasn't so sure that the same courtesy would be passed to him from Bakura. Bakura had no reason to safe him if anything were to happen. He was only loyal to the Ryous, and that was only by force. If he was attacked, Marik had the strange suspicious feeling that Bakura would just watch him be…

The man tried to shove this thought away, and swallowed as he kept the light pointing in front of him, Bakura walking calmly and silently at his side. Or perhaps Stalking was a better word for it, for the teen made no sound. Marik was rather impressed by this. Then again, he had been a TombRobber, had he not? Such skills would've been necessary back then. He should know, being a Tomb Keeper. On the inside he couldn't help but laugh. The partnering of a TombRobber and a Tomb Keeper, two of the greatest enemies. It was ridiculous, yet it happened now, twice.

The light dimmed. Marik halted in alarm at it. Even as he stopped the light from the flashlight was fading quickly. His heart beat quicken slightly as he hit the thing, trying to spark some life into it. The thief halted a few paces in front of him, his face turned in his direction. Marik could see that through the corner of his eye as he focused on the only source of light, a dull ember now, until finally it burned out completely.

In the dark his heart hammered. He could hear it in his ears. Feel it in his arms. His eyes were wide as they tried to perceive something in the blackness, tried to see, but only found dark and shadow was indestructible. He felt panic at the edges of his mind and wondered why. He had been born in darkness; he had lived in the cryptic black of a tomb for all of his childhood. Why was he frightened now?

A hand suddenly grabbed his wrist. Marik jumped immediately his heart almost torn out of his chest as he grabbed back at the thing with his free hand. His breath was heavy, and it took him a moment to figure out it was Bakura.

"My night vision is better than yours." The thief commented in a whisper, his tone clearly suggesting he had enjoyed scaring him, yet it sounded like a yell since Marik's ears had tripled in strength from loosing his eyesight. Still, he struggled to make out the form of the Robber and kept failing miserably as he was led forward.

"Why?" Marik asked, uncomfortable with the silence. He felt brown eyes glancing in his direction in the pause. There was a chuckle, a dark sinister chuckle. Marik gulped and wondered if this was any better.

"You should know, Tomb Keeper, one's eyes have to be adjusted to the darkness to see properly, especially while walking in the tombs of kings and the place is heavily booby trapped…"

"You must feel right at home." Marik remarked. He sensed a devious smirk as dark chuckling tickled the air around his ears.

"You're correct." The Spirit whispered. He sensed the smirk widening considerably. All he could hear was the pattering of his own heart and his own footsteps. He was blind and he couldn't help but notice how much he was depending on the Spirit of the ring now and couldn't help but feel slightly frightened.

He was scared enough where his mind was playing trick on him. He couldn't help but notice that there were shapes, darker than the blackness, if possible, in the corners of his eyes, yet when he tried to look all he saw was black. His head turned several times trying to see it, but his ears gave nothing away. He didn't feel the vibration of footsteps on the floor. It was just the dark getting the better of him.

He opened his mouth to ask Bakura if he was seeing this when a loud chattering made him freeze.

"What was that?" He asked. He couldn't keep the fright from his voice. His heart pounded in his ears.

"What was what?" Asked the thief coolly in front of him. Realizing he hadn't heard it, that if he missed it then it couldn't possibly be there, Marik shook off the fear and told himself he was over reacting.

"N-nothing." He said, not able to keep the shudder from his voice.

They kept walking. And the shapes died down for a time. Marik listened to the nothingness surrounding him, blinking incessantly, trying to adjust his eyes, and failing, letting Bakura's hand keep his wrist. Then after what seemed like moments, they were back. But Bakura's grip showed no sign of tensing. Marik could hear more noises coming from somewhere around him, yet he couldn't pin point them. Still, Bakura's grip showed no sign of alarm.

Marik closed his eyes and told himself it wasn't there. Yet, he couldn't ignore the smell that suddenly became apparent to him. A sharp repulsive rotting flesh stench that Marik flinched at. No, it was all in his mind. His millennium senses told him of no danger, yet he couldn't help but shiver as he felt a warm wind in his face.

Suddenly he tripped. He wasn't sure what on but his toe was stubbed, and he found himself falling forward, felt it. Being on such edge his reflexes were superior, and flailing his arms out wildly he caught the back of his comrade to keep himself up.

But his hands didn't meet the cloth of a shirt. Instead he was touching something smooth, like silk. Startled Marik froze, trying to figure out what that was. Wasn't Bakura wearing a cotton shirt? The sudden overwhelming fright at not knowing what that was paralyzed him to the spot, locked his breath deep in his chest.

It shifted, the silk smoothness leaving his fingers, and suddenly he could see light. Two large glowing crimson orbs. A chattering hiss splattered out in front of him, the warm breath returning and the flesh rotting smell coming back strongly.

His eyes widening in fright as realization whipped over him. Marik attempted to run away, but found he was yanked back by his hand. He pulled harder and harder, finding the hand around his wrist not a hand but something else, something smoother and warm and hade no fingers. He fought against it harder and harder, his heart a war drum and his mind screaming in panic as his other hand was wrapped in this silk skin.

Without his hands he found himself with out the ear piece at his disposal, which meant to couldn't ask for help from Yami, or even warn him now. Not that he would be able to come in time to help him. With no other weapons Marik tried to use one of his feet to kick the thing the thing in desperation. He swung and found instead it was firmly caught and something wrapped up his leg past his knee.

Unable to keep his balance he fell down, hard, and yelped but found himself unable to scream. He felt the warm sticky rotting odor in his face again and knew he was going to die. There was no other way out. He was down and he felt a heavy weight on him keeping him down. And all he could think about was how angry he was that the TombRobber had abandoned him, left him to die alone in the dark to this unknown thing, and the picture of his beautiful wife and son.

(…)

Yami found himself standing in the middle of the bathroom with Joey standing at his side, looking around inside the room, and looking back to the open door leading back to the bedroom. There were no other doors to use. Joey was furious.

"He tricked me into picking this room!" He growled agitatedly. It was clearly a dead-end. Yami couldn't help but notice the tub was full of water as well as the sink and the mirror was fogged up. It felt like a sauna in there. He pulled at his collar at the heat.

"Now what do we do?" Joey asked him.

"I'm not sure." Yami replied. He eyed the bathtub warily. Something wasn't right here. The water in the tub and sink were clear and their was no sign of danger, yet his skin crawled uncomfortably. Joey, in a fit of anger, slammed the bathroom door and blotted out the view of the bedroom. Yami considered his old friend, but said nothing off it. He listened to Yugi talk in his mind.

"I don't like this…"

"Neither do I." Yami agreed. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked over the room again. Joey sat down on the lid of the toilet, looking frustrated and disgruntled. Obviously he didn't want to go back and follow Marik and Bakura. Yami had to smile slightly. Even after thirty years Joey had changed very little.

Then something caught his eye.

The mirror was no longer completely fogged. It showed bits of his face were letters were carved out, regularly printed letters in smooth rounded lines. Lines created by a finger. The letters spelled one word.

Greetings

"You do that?" Joey asked quietly. Yami glanced at him, finding he too held a look of surprise. Yami shook his head no, the suspicion in him rising. As they spoke they watched the words fade back into grayish fog over the glass. They waited a moment, unsure of what to do next, when a bunch of other letters appeared again, all at once in rapid succession.

Are you friends of the madam?

Yami and Joey glanced at each other uncertainly. Before Yami could make up his mind to leave the room and out of potential danger, Yugi's voice filled his ears.

"Write 'Yes' on the glass." Deciding not to question his vessel, he leaned forward in the deepest caution and with a hesitant finger, wrote Y E S on the mirror when the question faded. He watched his own answer fade and was replaced by another message.

Then there is not much time.

Yami quickly wrote 'Why' as Joey rose from his seat and leaned over Yami's shoulder. The answer returned in the same swiftness.

He forces her was the only reply. Yami read the message with a graveness. Joey growled slightly at those words. The ancient king pressed his finger against the cold mirror like substance and started writing again. He already knew to which it was mentioning, and this was probably some sort of warning. Or a trap. Still he wrote the words quickly.

'Who are you?' There was a pause.

I was once called Beore

(…)

Then, just as all hope was lost, a brilliant blast of brightness temporarily blinded him. He screamed and shut his eyes a moment too late. The silhouette of a monstrous black humanoid creature was burned into his vision. A great whooshing roar was hurting his ears as well as a high pitched banshee like scream. He gritted his teeth in the pain, but somehow with his hands he felt the smoothness loosening, felt bits and pieces of speck like dust falling on him. The weight on his chest seemed to evaporate.

When he opened his eyes he was plagued with thousands of little blue dots, much like when someone flashing a camera at you when you're looking at the bulb but much worse. He blinked several times, watching most of them dissipate. All except for a gold one. It took him several moments to realize it was the Ring.

Just as he realized this the glow brightened extensively, and Marik found himself squinting at another humanoid shape. This one was familiar though. When they adjusted further, Marik found Bakura dark brown eyes staring at him through the glow, his hand clutching the object and pointing it out in front of him slightly.

He could understand why his eyes hadn't adjusted before. They had, actually, but the large shape of the blackish creature that was what he had been staring at. When the light went out it must have taken his hand instead of Bakura, mimicked his voice. It kept him from being able to see. The shapes in the corners of his eyes had been Bakura, the thief, moving stealthily behind him. He must have waited until he caught the thing off guard before blasting it. But why would he do that?

Bakura, seeing his friend's puzzled expression, only looked at him with deep dark brown eyes. He spoke with a soft voice, one that was rather annoyed, before turning and starting down the hall, knowing full well the Tomb Keeper would catch up to him quickly.

"You're no good to me dead."

Book Dragon: "Please Review."