Chapter Three
So Little Faith

Fortunatly for Marcus, the Rod worked very well indeed. Within minutes of landing on Egyptian sand, Mokuba felt the pull of new Sennen Items. He left Marcus behind, waiting nervous in the airport, twitching like a june bug. Marcus was unessacary.

Many an hour later, Mokuba stood before his adversary. You are my prey, he decided venemously.

"Who are you?" the cowering figure whispered. "Why do you have the Sennen Rod and Eye? It should not be this way."

"I quite honestly do not care how you feel things 'should be.' I hold the Eye and Rod, and they tell me that you, too, own Sennen Items. I challenge you to a Shadow Game. When I win, you will add your power to mine, and show me how to unlock the abilities of the Eye."

"I cannot accept these terms."

"You will. Or I shall kill you outright and take your Items anyway." Mokuba grinned ferally, appearing almost fanged in the pale half-light of desert dusk.

"The Items will never submit to an unworthy master."

Laughter devoid of mirth echoed along the sands. "Oh, I am worthy."

Shadi shook before this dark power. He was old now -- he was lonely -- he did not know if his Ankh and Scales were enough to defeat the Eye and Rod.

"Come with me, old man," Mokuba growled, and strode off into the harsh desert sands. Shadi could do nothing but follow.

For hours, in fact, he did nothing but follow. It was raw torture. He had lost track of the years, but they had not lost track of him; he was not able to trek on infinitely, as he could in the days of his youth. But the man in front of him was slowing. They had come to a huge, flat-topped rock, maybe three stories tall but many times that in width. A cliff it was, that flew up from the desert floor. And from it hung two thin ropes, like thin grey snakes that writhed in the growing moonlight.

Mokuba walked up and tied one around his waist, then gestured for Shadi to do the same. "When the game begins," he called, voice whipped back and forth by the sandy winds, "we will be pulled up by those who would be willing to save us. Any lack of trust on our part will weaken the rope."

"What?" Shadi began to reply, but Mokuba ignored him, choosing instead to look upwards. Shadi followed his gaze and saw golden figures appear. Someone was reeling in his rope.

One apiece -- not many willing people. It made sense. Shadi had been alone in the desert for thirty, forty years, traveling and learning. He shunned people; he did not make friends. In truth, he was surprised that even one person was willing to save him.

He noted with surprise that he no longer touched the ground. This truly was a Shadow Game, for he felt no discomfort at being held six feet in the air by a thin cord tied around his waist. Even as he watched, the ground fell further. Someone above him was tugging mightily.

But who? Suspicion nagged at him. He tried to place it from his mind. Any lack of trust on our part... Who did he trust to dangle him ten, fifteen, twenty feet in the air? He shoved such thoughts to the back of his mind. Twenty feet. It was not a deadly drop.

Who would be up there? he wondered, and watched as a thin fiber of rope began to unwind itself. No, I trust, I trust! But who? Curiosity, mere curiousity. Not an intense fear of anyone who he had to trust. Certainly not.

A quick glance sideways showed him that Mokuba was having no such trouble keeping his rope sturdy. He trusted the one who pulled him. But anyone could guess who would save Mokuba from diasaster. Shadi did not know who would protect such a one as himself.

I have never trusted anyone. The thought came unbidden to his mind, and he could not banish it as untrue. He had never trusted. To trust was to die. The rope was shredding quickly. Twenty-four feet... twenty-five... He prayed to the gods of ancient Egypt.

All stood still as the rope frayed till a single fiber connected him to the one above. He looked up and found he was close enough to see the one who had fought for him in this strange Shadow Game. Outlined in light, straining to pull the aged Egyptian up a cliff of hard rock, stood his Pharaoh. Gratitude bloomed within Shadi, and, yes, trust, but it was far too late; the rope snapped, and soon he lay on his back in the sands. He moaned.

Cruel laughter fell from the sky, and Mokuba followed in its wake. He grabbed the Ankh and pulled, breaking the chain against Shadi's neck. He pulled the Scales from a conspicuous pocket and transferred them to the safety of his own cloak. "Now, the Eye!" he called. "Show me how to use it!"

Shadi held up his hand weakly, and Mokuba cautiously set the Item in it. Then, in a sudden burst of strength, Shadi sat up and rammed the golden orb into the other man's head. Mokuba screamed in agony, echoes bouncing across the dunes in mocking reply.

Many hours after Mokuba had left, Shadi continued to lie in the sands, letting the winds bury him. Where could he go? His power was his Items. They were -- had been -- his life. It was all he had ever done. Shadi, Guardian of the Sennen Items. No more. No more. He had lost. Not for the first time, but for the highest stakes.

Eventually he rose and headed towards the nearest village. He was, if not wise, then clever. Surely, he had some other skill. Shadi could rebuild his life. Maybe he could form friendships. Perhaps he could even find someone to trust...

Lucky Shadi, eh? It does get more interesting pretty soon; at least I think so. After this comes the end of Bekhura's tale, and you'll be able to follow along afterwards (that is, no more skipping ahead and catching up).

And the r2rs:

snarky: Well, I just wanted it to be clear who was talking. And, seriously, "Yami Bakura" sounds a wee bit doofy. Here ya go!

xXXkIkOkEnxXx: Ahm, your wish is my command, I suppose.

Namaarie, Raz