Chapter Four

"Akunamon is dead," Tokep proclaimed in a subdued voice. His head was bowed in respect to the deceased pharaoh. The old man had served as the pharaoh's advisor for more than forty years, staying by Akunamon side to help him build and maintain a wealthy, powerful kingdom.

"Long live the pharaoh!" The shout went up through the royal city of Thebes. Through the streets the people wept for joy. The great empire of Egypt would see a new dawn with a new monarch on the throne. As Akunamon's first and only son, Atem would take up his father's mantle in the Great House. Now that his father was dead, the weight of Egypt was on Atem's shoulders. It was up to Atem to appoint all of his own staff, make his own choices, wage his own wars; to keep Egypt great and keep his people free.

The boy slumped to the floor of his bedchambers when he heard the news. First the terrible catastrophe of the shadow games, then the three infernal beasts, and now his father dead… Atem's life could not get much worse then this. The intense pressure on him was too much to bear.

Atem knew that the first thing to do would be appointing his staff: an advisor, a head priest, a chief of guard, a war general; even a head chef, one that he could trust not to poison him.

But the most important thing, he knew, was finding the proper people to control the seven Millennium Items that his father had created. Their wayward power had created the three Great Monsters and killed Pharaoh Akunamon, and Atem would have to get them under his control as soon as possible.

So he would have to find the remaining priests and priestesses, and go through the initiation ceremonies. Then the power would be complete and controlled.

Atem straightened up. If he were to be pharaoh, he would have to be confident of his power, not shrink away from it. He would have to believe in himself and his people. All of Egypt was depending on him. And he would rise to the challenge.

The brown-haired boy sulked sullenly on the castle parapet. Of course his cousin had to get everything. Little Atemu, the mama's boy. And now he would wear the pharaoh's headdress. Finally the little fool knew what it felt like to be an orphan. But of course Atem "would rule wisely and well, and his people would love him," and all of that garbage. While Seto got nothing. Atem never knew what it felt like to be cast aside, to be shunted into the shadows.

Seto's hands clenched angrily. He was second to the throne, if somehow Atem died…

No. He could not think like that. He had to keep his cool. He could not murder his own cousin.

"Young Master," called a guard from behind him. "The Pharaoh requests your presence in the throne room."

Seto rolled his eyes. "Coming," he grunted. He had to. Little Atemu was the pharaoh now.

He stalked behind the guard, keeping his back straight and eyes narrow, his face betraying nothing.

They came into the throne room. Atem was sitting on the throne at the far end of the room. He was dictating something to a royal scribe.

"Ah, Seto," said Atem. "How are you, cousin?"

Seto shrugged.

Atem cleared his throat. "I have decided to make you the High Priest of Egypt. You will receive the Millennium Rod at the Initiation Ceremony in a month's time. I am sending out riders to find the proper people to control the other Items. As the High Priest you will be in charge of all of the other priests."

Seto stared suspiciously at Atem. Was he trying to buy him with the offer of the Millennium Rod, or what?

Yet there was nothing but sincerity in Atem's eyes.

"I am not doing this to get you on my side. I'm doing this because I know you can do it, and… I trust you."

Seto blinked.

"So what do you say?"

He nodded curtly. "One month's time. Yes… pharaoh." Seto turned coldly and strode out of the room, his cape whipping out behind him.

The once-proud village was in ruins. Most of the tents had been burned, and several others were still smoking from the battle. It was as silent as the grave, with only the occasional wisp of sand casually whirling by, unaware of the recent horror that had occurred.

Two hooded figures interrupted the desolate scene. Pleased, they surveyed their handiwork.

"All of the warriors have been dealt with," hissed the first one in a snakelike voice.

"Good," growled the second. "What about the twins?"

"Possessed."

"Very good. Bring out the girl. I have a task." His yellow teeth glinted as he smiled evilly.

The first one scurried into a tent and emerged a moment later with a teenage girl in tow. Yet she did not look like your average teenage girl. She was dressed in a tunic with leather armor, wrist guards, gloves and knee-high boots. Several daggers were strapped to her wrists, ankles and belt. A long, thin, lethal-looking sword hung from her waist. A quiver full of arrows was slung over her shoulder, and in one hand she grasped a longbow, strung and polished.

She stood tall and proud in the sand, arms crossed. But there was something wrong. Her eyes were deep caves of nothingness, holding no emotion. It looked as if she were in a daze, or sleepwalking.

"What do you want?" she snarled in an almost non-human voice. It was layered with several different tones; all put together they were harsh and grating to the ears.

"I have a job for you, Azar," replied the first hooded figure. "You will learn what you must do if you put on this." He drew a pendant on a string from his pocket. It was a simple orb within which dark substances swirled. "All of the directions are in here."

Azar held out her hand. The hooded person gave her the pendant.

Indifferently, she put it around her neck. "I will need a horse to reach the Pharaoh," she growled.

The second hood trotted over with a horse, the reins in his hands. "This is our fastest," said the first hood. "It will get you where you need to go very quickly."

"Good." In one swift motion, Azar mounted the beast and kicked it into a gallop. The dust stirred around her, and she was off, fading away into the desert landscape.

"Soon we will have the tools we need, and we shall rule over the Tribe of the Scorpions," cackled the first hood. "The Pharaoh and the Priest will be dead, and then no one will stand in our way."

Over the next few days, Samira continued to visit the Kaibas during the daytime, but she would always leave before nightfall, although she never revealed where she went.

On the third day, Seto found a bag on the kitchen table. Curiously he opened it.

Inside were:

A set of 10 silver daggers

A dueling deck

A strange stringed instrument

Several scrolls

"That's mine," said a voice from the kitchen door.

Seto nearly jumped in surprise. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to the string instrument (mostly to get the pressure off of him).

"An oud," said Samira. She was frowning slightly. "That's strange how you were able to get in there. I have an anti-thief spell on that thing. Maybe it's worn off."

"Spell?" asked Seto skeptically.

"Yes, spell," said Samira, who was tracing something in the air above the bag. The pattern turned blue, then vanished. "That's better. Seto, touch it again."

He hesitated. "Oh, don't tell me you're afraid of my phony hocus-pocus tricks, eh?" she smirked.

"No!"

"Then touch it. I need to know if it works."

Reluctantly, he put one finger on the bag. Nothing happened.

Samira muttered something irritably in Arabic. She sighed and picked up the dueling deck. "Oh well, that can't be helped. Now, I want to see how well you can duel."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"…You… duel?"

"Yep." She sat down at the kitchen table and began to shuffle her deck. Seto delicately took his deck out of his pocket, where he always kept it. In his mind, he seriously doubted whether or not Samira could really duel. "You can go first," she said, five cards already in her hand.

"…Uh, okay…" He drew a card, and they began to duel.

What followed was perhaps the most… well, indescribable duel that was ever played. Every move one of them made, the other countered. Seto was feeling frustrated that he could not get by Samira's defenses. Whenever he tried to play a magic card, she always had some spell that he had never heard of before to negate it. In fact, none of the cards she had were familiar to him. The Palace Guard, the Palace Mage, the Archer, the Spy… and the trap and magic cards were worse. For every monster she had, she seemed to have three times as many of these. For the reader's sake I shall not name them all.

Samira seemed pleased rather than daunted when Seto finally figured out how to dissolve her strategy. "That's enough for today," she said, gathering up her cards and stowing them away. She stood up.

"Why did you want to duel me?" Seto asked quickly.

Samira stopped, and swiveled around. She fixed him with a golden stare. "To prepare you," she said slowly.

"For what?"

She just smiled mysteriously. "You will need these dueling skills for the near future."

"But I already have dueling skills!"

"Not enough to keep you alive. You're going to be in some pretty tough duels very soon, and you need to learn what I am teaching you."

"What duels? When?" But Samira had transformed back into the falcon, and took off through the open window into the falling dusk.

It was frustrating, how Samira seemed to know so much of his future, and he so little.