Book I | That First Cage

Memory Arc

Part I

Seto: 15 years old

Kisara: 13 years old

…

Seto reined in his horse, his eyes fixed on a pool of light spilling over a distant sand dune. What on Earth? He could not think of any caravan routes that went this way. Memphis was a day and a night's ride away, and even so it had not been the capital of Egypt for many lifetimes. Traders usually stuck to the Nile river when they entered the Delta, and headed straight for Thebes. Seto had first headed for that pool of light thinking that it was his village. Now, however, looking northwest of this dune, he could see the fainter pool of light which was his village, and where his mother was even now waiting for him.

He idly reached back a hand and felt for the sacks of wheat his horse was carrying. It was dark already… his mother would be worried… His eyes slid back to that closer pool of light. It's on the way, he thought, kicking into his horse's flanks to continue in the direction he had first been heading, spurring her forward. He loved the speed. A ravine was up ahead. He smirked into the darkness, rising a little in his saddle. With a muffled 'ha' he threw himself, and the horse, over it.

Seto closed his eyes and pressed himself against his ride's neck, taking in the sensation. For a moment… just a moment… it was like flying. And then, invariably, her hooves hit the ground, and they cantered on.

After a short ride he halted on a dune just short of the pool of light. It was a caravan, even if it was not a normal route. A very short caravan of one… two… three wagons, but still a caravan.

Seto held his horse steady as she pawed the ground. The sand slipped out from under her a little. Luckily that pool of light he had spotted, while large enough to be seen from a distance, was more of a puddle than a pool. It was coming from a campfire, as he'd suspected. And there were the traders.

A waste of my time after all, he thought, turning his horse around. It would be better if they did not spot him, hovering over them as he was. At best they might take away his wheat and horse. At worst, they might throw him in one of those cages. At the thought his eyes slid back to the wagons casually… and froze.

Apart from the campfire there was one other light spot against the black sand. Go, a voice in his mind told him to kick his horse into action and be off. Go. It's none of your business. You're not a thief. Go.

Oh, he was going. He was off his horse, sliding down the far side of the sand dune, circling around it, and crouching behind one of the other two wagons before it fully dawned on him that he was going the wrong direction. I must be mad, he thought distractedly, digging his fingers into the wooden framework of the wagon and his heals into the sand. Some sand pushed up against the bare skin of his ankle. It was cold already.

The desert was like that – scorching hot by noon and chilling by nightfall. Now that he was not on horseback the cold was beginning to seep in up through his feet. If that was the case… she must be freezing, he thought, his eyes locked on that blotch, almost offensive, against the otherwise smooth darkness.

There was a whoop of laughter from the campfire that almost sent Seto's heart up though his throat. Cold as it was, he was not simply shivering because of the night air. I am about to steal from slavers. From a whole bushel of slavers. …I must be mad, he thought again, his knees quivering a little. His fingers tightened on the woodwork.

Every footstep seemed to take an age, and every quiet 'pad' through the sand seemed much, much too audible. As he came closer to the wagon, however, his mind drifted from the danger posed by the slavers and to the appearance of this strange, strange girl, for she was a girl. She looked nothing like any girl he had ever seen in the village and Ra knew there were enough of them there following him around – fifteen years old, they said, it was time for him to settle down. Thank you, no – but she was certainly a girl…

She had a mop of white hair atop her head. Now that he was close enough he could see her too-pale form etched out in the darkness. She was shivering violently. Bastards. From where he crouched he could catch snatches of their conversation. "Haha! We were really lucky with that one." "Features like that… I've never seen anything like it. She'll fetch a good price." "It's a good thing we fished her out of the water when we did!" "Oy, you reckon she's still a virgin?" "Only one way to find out!" "Settle down you two. No damaging the merchandise."

The wood of the wagon gave a very quiet creek under Seto's fingers. He hadn't realized that he had tightened his grip. Damn. Maybe he should come back when they were all asleep. Though, judging from those canteens he could see by the firelight, they might be far gone already. And again the unbidden thought… What am I doing here?

Nothing for it. Seto offered up his prayers to Shai, god of fortune and luck, and darted out from behind the one wagon, past the second, and slipped in front of the door to the third. They can't see me. They're in the light of the fire. I'm in the dark. At best they might be able to make her out. But probably not. Hopefully not. Not through the firelight. It all happened over a matter of heartbeats. As his thoughts raced, so did his fingers. As the lock sprang open, over the roaring of his own pounding blood, an awed "Who are you?" trickled in through his ears. He looked up, still through the closed door, and his mouth went dry.

Blue eyes… She has blue eyes. They shone through the bars.

Jerkily, he pulled the door of the wagon open, feeling almost heady satisfaction at having the power to pull her prison from her. "Come," he said, not even remembering her initial question. He reached into her cell, grabbed her by her upper arms, and half guided, half dragged her out.

She was numb with cold. Her legs buckled beneath her at the sudden office of her weight, and her skin was like ice against his fingers. Without even thinking, he pulled her against him, wrapped his arms fully around her, trying to share his warmth.

It was strange… It was as if they didn't need words. Both knew they had to run. Both knew they had to pause. Almost the instant after he wrapped his arms around her, she relaxed into his grip. He felt her shaking breaths against his neck. That alone felt hot. His grip on her tightened.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He didn't have to push her away or tell her what to do. They split apart. He turned to the offender. It was too dark to say, but from his voice Seto would guess that he was one of the two salvers who had been told to "settle down."

It was like undoing the lock. Just another split second. Nothing special about it. Nothing. This man, as he charged in a drunken rage– all that Seto cared about concerning this man was that he was trying to take what was his, Seto's. Mine? What am I thinking? He turned the beast's weight against him and topped him to the ground.

"Run!" It was amazing. Seto's mind was now a haze. There was a roaring in his ears. The Earth might have ended in that moment for all he knew, and yet nothing had ever been clearer. Nothing had ever felt as real as when he grabbed that pale girl's hand in his and tore across the dunes to his horse. Nothing was more crisp to the senses than when he grabbed her by her waist and heaved her onto his horse. And, when he climbed in front of her and dug his heels into the creature's flanks, nothing could have resounded in his heart as violently as when she laced her arms around his torso and gripped hold of him for her life.

They rode.

The din that had started up around the fire melted away. The sand melted away. Everything was gone. Everything, except those arms clenched around him, that form, pressed against his back, and that breathing in his ear. Get a hold of yourself! "Are," he croaked, his own voice sounding very distant to him, "are they following us?" he asked after some minutes.

His breath caught in his mouth as she shifted to look behind them. "No," she whispered back. Her voice was like a high note on a reed pipe. Meek, and yet full.

Seto swallowed hard. He needed to get home. His mother would be waiting for him– had been waiting for him Ra knows how long. Behind him he could hear the girl's white hair cracking against the wind. The arms around his waist tightened. But for those arms he felt his heart might have just crashed out of his chest. Or was it because of those arms? Seto smirked. His mother would understand. She wasn't like the other women of his village. She was refined. A lady. As if she had come from somewhere better. He and his mother were also well off. How, Seto didn't know. His father had died in battle years ago. However, his mother only said that they were 'provided for.' Which meant… she wouldn't miss the horse. Seto leaned over the side of the mare and unhooked two of the three wheat sacks that had been the original goal of his ride. Was he imagining the reluctance with which his companion's fingers scraped across his chest as he pulled himself loose of her? He hardly knew.

"Memphis, the Old Capital, is straight ahead! Just follow that constellation, The Soul of Osiris!" he pointed. He wished his voice would start sounding like his own again. "Then–" why did the words stick in his throat? "make your way back to your own country!" He braced himself against the horse, and hauled himself off. He didn't see her face close in against his, but suddenly her mouth was by his ear and her windpipe voice filled his mind with "What is your name?" The words whipped out and followed him as he landed in the sand. His throat went dry. That was right. He didn't know her name either. He might never see her again.

"Seto!" he croaked back at her, even as the horse hurtled her farther and farther from him. "SETO!" he almost screamed, trying to make sure she'd heard.

Then, just when he thought she would not turn, would make no acknowledgment of having heard him, having not heard him, she turned, and waved, her pale scrawny arm flailing against the night sky. "Thank you, Seto! I promise, I will return the favor! Thank you!"

And with that, she was gone.

It was all he could do to keep himself from collapsing then and there on the sand and sleeping through till morning. Not good. Those slavers might follow our tracks. I need to get back home. In the village his tracks would mix with all the other tracks of his fellow town's people. He would be safe in the village.

That was when it caught his eye. The sun. He squinted. No. It couldn't be. It couldn't be dawn already. It wasn't that late. And yet… there it was. Dawn must be approaching, for there, along the horizon, between Earth and sky, was the sliver of fiery light that spilled out before the sun like a red carpet. Seto yawned. His mother will have raised half the village if it was already the next day. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Seto rubbed his hand over his face, trying to smear away exhaustion, and looked again to the horizon. He froze. Since when did the sun rise from the northwest? And since when did the horizon… smoke?

It crashed upon him. His village. His village was bright enough to outline the horizon. His village was burning.

"MOTHER!" Forgotten were the two sacks of wheat and forgotten was his fatigue. Seto tore across the sand as fast as his legs could carry him. Once more a haze enveloped him. And there was no delicate girl to offer him a higher clarity. This isn't happening. He scrambled over dunes – This is not happening – leapt off a ledge of sheer rock – not happening – and ran for Ra knows how long.

THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!

Legs aching from the run, his eyes stinging with sweat and sand, Seto was enveloped by the inferno as he tore into the village. "Mother! Mother! Where are you!?" His eyes were a blur of tears and his nose and throat were clogged full of smoke. He had to find his house. Had to find his house!

It was right on the main square… Big… They were well off… The main square… Now a ring of fire. He skidded across the yard. It was untouched! "Mother!" His house was still untouched. Seto lunged forward and was torn back by his collar.

"Hey, you!" Before his blurred vision was suddenly thrust a contorted face, beat red with the heat. It was not a familiar face. He did not know this man. This man had two scars in the shape of a cross on the right side of his bald pate. Why was he stopping Seto from getting to his house? "You're that brat!" The man shook him violently. Seto's vision blacked in the heat. "Where's the girl!?" That voice…

It was the man whom he had toppled at the slavers' caravan.

"Mother!" He lost it. "Let me go! Let me go!" He wormed out of the man's grip and tore blindly for the sanctuary of the house.

"Hold up there!" an arm caught his wrist. Another man. More of the slavers were circling around him now. It was because of me, Seto realized. They came here and set the village on fire. It's burning… because of me.

"This your house, boy?" a grey haired slaver almost cooed, sweat dripping off his arm as he lifted a blazing torch from one of the roofs. "What if I…?" He waved it meaningfully.

"No. NO! NO! NO!"

"Tell us where the girl is," muttered his captor's voice in his ear. Seto felt his arms being bent back. Surly they would snap. But he could see nothing. Only the torch in the old man's hand. It teetered dangerously close to…

"NO!"

The grey haired man grinned. It was the wrong answer, though it had not really been an answer at all. He put the torch to the house.

"MAMA!" She might not be in the house. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He was choking. Choking on his own breath. He could hear nothing. She might have already escaped. Everything was burning. No longer 'provided for.'

She had not escaped. Somehow, he knew she had not. Perhaps she was not in the house, but she had not escaped. He had lost everything.

Seto fell to his knees. Everything was swimming. No. Burning. The tears were leaving scorch marks down his nose. "…ma…ma…"

And then there was an explosion as part of the burning town seemed to heave from its foundations and, for the second time that night, Seto thought that dawn had come. There was such a torrent of light above his head.

And then… clarity. There came lucidity once more. His vision cleared, and this time the blur of light took the shape, not of a girl, but of… of a white dragon. The beast flexed its great wings, its white scales mirroring the light of the blaze a thousand times over and turning the red flames into blue reflections.

Seto threw his arms forward to stop his fall. The slaver let go of my wrists, he thought numbly. The roar of the fire had been deafened by the roar of the dragon. Seto turned his head up to stare. Now the screams of the town's people were taken up again by the slavers.

All was clarity – the shrieks of "monster," the blistering sand under his fingertips, and the dragon who took on Judgment when no god was moved to action. It reared its head back, and gathered the purest light between its teeth. It then unleashed a searing fury upon the retreating slavers. In years to come Seto would remember every detail of this inferno, this night he lost everything. He would remember the effect, while his subconscious would take from him the cause. He could not have the girl. Why recall that she existed? He would probably never see her again. His mind was overwhelmed.

Seto raised an arm up to protect himself from the new blast of heat. The slavers gave out a final anguished scream. This was a dry, crisp heat. Dry, crisp… Clear.

And then… Oblivion.