.:Author's Note:. GEH. FINALLY. I have no idea why but this chapter was SO EVIL. It was practically impossible to write for some strange reason. But good news! I've already written a good five chapters after this already, so updates should be a bit more frequent now. I have one chapter I'm going to insert in between some I already wrote, but otherwise, I'm on a pretty good roll.
So uh... the more gory, violent part of the story is beginning now. STUFF ACTUALLY HAPPENS *legasp* Get ready for some gut-churning shit :D Thanks to all my loyal readers and reviewers! I really appreciate the positive feedback and any tips and such for bettering my writing.
-DxH
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Chapter Seven: Confrontation
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Marik and Akefia hurried through the tomb, until they reached the exit of the West Wing. Marik swallowed, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He cautiously opened the hidden passage, eyes darting furtively through the space for guards or other passerbyers, and seeing none, slipped through, allowing Akefia after him.
The two scurried through the hallways, the patter of their footsteps echoing lightly against the stone, making Marik wince, until he realized he was the one making all the noise, and the thief's own steps were veiled in silence. Marik tried to ease his weight on the balls of his feet to lessen the noise, but it only made him stumble, and he kept to searching the map.
A sudden noise caused him to halt immediately, the thief behind him jerking to a stop as well, ears cocked.
Voices, relatively distant, echoed from before them. Marik stiffened. He heard the steps of at least two people, hushed voices exchanging words that reverberated in the enclosed space. He darted forward, the thief close at his heeds, and turned sharply at a junction, standing with his back to the wall against the direction of the approaching people. The thief blew out the nearest torch, engulfing them both in shadows, and pressed himself to the wall beside Marik. The tombkeeper held his breath, willing his nervous heart, which beat loudly against his chest, to quiet lest it be heard. He choked back a gasp when he saw the thief quietly pull out the small dagger out of the corner of his eye, hand wrapped tightly around its hilt and body poised towards the corner of the hall.
The voices and footsteps grew louder as the passersby neared. Marik felt as though his heart would leap from his chest at any second. Before he knew it, two men, guards equipped only with swords at their waists, entered into his view. Marik squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to disappear into the wall. After several excruciating seconds, the boy opened his eyes. The sound of the guard's voices and footsteps were vanishing in the opposite direction. He heaved a sigh, noting Akefia as he put the dagger away, and, with a glance in both directions, continued down the hall.
When they reached the end, Marik recognized the two large double-doors he'd been looking for. He glanced in the opposite direction where several guards paroled the area. Apparently the alarm hadn't been rung yet. He pulled off his bag and rummaged through it, pulling out the matches. The thief watched him thoughtfully, following every movement with wary curiosity. Marik looked up at Akefia.
"Stay here. I'm going to provide a distraction so we can lure the guards away. The only exit is beyond this room, behind the guards and through the hallway. It's locked though, so you'll have to quickly deal with that. As soon as the guards' attention is drawn away, we make a dash for it." The thief lifted an eyebrow, impressed.
"You seem to have well thought this through, little one," he noted. Marik blushed at the praise and nodded.
"I probably know this tomb better than my father." He turned back to the double doors. Akefia's eyes followed him closely.
"I do hope you don't get yourself caught. I'm not feeling so crisp as to go about fighting off those armed brutes over there, disoriented and useless as they may be" the white-haired young man noted. Marik nodded.
"I should be able to leave unseen. If I get caught, leave me behind. They won't know you were with me." The thief's lips parted in a chilling grin.
"You have guts, kid," he purred, "I'm looking forward to your act." Marik averted his gaze and looked back at the doors, which seemed to loom over him the longer he stared at them. He wiped his sweating palms on his tunic, stuffed the matches in his pockets, and stood up straight, lifting his chin, and stepped out into the light of the room.
Marik briskly strode towards the doors and placed a hand on the ivory handle when a deep voice addressed him.
"Hey kid, what are you doing here?" Marik stiffened, and turned around, masking his emotions behind an innocent face. A large guard, brandishing a long spear, eyed him suspiciously. Marik noticed Akefia place a hand on the hilt of his dagger from the corner of his eye.
"I was going to get a book for my studies," Marik replied simply. The guard cocked an eyebrow.
"I haven't seen you around these parts. Are you sure you're allowed to be here?" Marik's innocent expression turned into one of frustration as he furrowed his brows together.
"I," he emphasized loudly, "am the Tombkeeper. I have every right to summon a book from the library to enhance my studies. Now unless you'd like to hamper my education, I can easily summon my father to see what he thinks about this." The guard's eyes widened and his expression turned from menacing to quite embarrassed. He lowered his eyes and nodded.
"Right… excuse me young master, I did not recognize you." Marik narrowed his eyes for good measure.
"I would think not," he snapped before turning on his heel and disappearing through the huge doors. Once inside the room, the boy released a shaky sigh, regaining his shaken composure as he leaned against the doors. He wasn't used to acting so commanding, and the action nearly terrified him. He slowly pushed himself off the doors and eyed the vast rows of shelves covered in old manuscripts, dusty novels, and leather-bound books that would fall apart at a touch. The room was perfectly dry to prevent the formation of mold.
"It's almost too perfect," the boy mumbled, pulling out a match from his pocket. He struck it against the surface of the floor and touched the small flame to the corner of a thick volume. The flame dwindled, before latching on to its prey and devouring it with eager intensity. Marik spread the flame to as many books as he could, lighting the other matches and flicking them on other bookstands. He coughed as a thick cloud of smoke began forming in the room, accompanied by the heat and hungry crackling of the flames.
Marik nearly jumped when he heard the doors of the library slam open and the cries of the guards. He darted behind a nearby shelf, crouching down to avoid the worst of the smoke which pricked at his eyes. Marik peered around it to see several guards come running into the room and begin beating at the shelves with their discarded tunics. Another ran in the room with a vase of water which he poured on the worst of the flames. Marik jumped away from the bookshelf which was quickly being consumed by the hungry fire, and sprang towards the doorway, clouded by gray smoke.
The boy emerged, coughing violently, and blindly groping his way through the haze when a cold hand grabbed him roughly by the arm and jerked him to the side. He struggled momentarily until he noticed a shock of thick white hair. Marik blinked and rubbed his tear-stained eyes, looking up to return the thief's white-toothed grin.
"I suppose it's time to hightail out of here," Akefia said. Marik nodded and they darted towards the exit on the other side of the room. Just as they neared the pillars separating them from the other room, a guard loudly stumbled out of the library and looked up. His eyes widened and he pointed an accusing finger at the thief.
"It's the prisoner! The prisoner has escaped!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. The other guards quickly retracted from the fire and stared at the quickly retreating duo, debating whether to follow suit or fix the library fire.
In the meantime, Marik and Akefia wasted no time in making a break for it. They wound through several rooms, through a long hallway, and emerged in a large, pillar-supported room. A huge golden eye loomed over them atop a door-less entry across from the two.
"It's just through there," Marik pointed out. The thief nodded and they quickly made their way to the entry.
"Marik!" The boy froze. Akefia slowed and looked back at the still boy, narrowing his eyes.
"Marik," more softly this time, the voice called out to him, deep, familiar, commanding. Marik trembled and slowly turned around. His father, Aknadin, dressed in a long, flowing tunic glared at him from beneath a white hood. Four guards followed behind him, circling around the pair of escapees.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a deep, booming voice that resonated in the room. Akefia slid closer to Marik, crouching and keeping his eyes on the steadily approaching guards, spears unabashedly pointed at him. Marik remained silent, choked by shock and a gripping, unnatural fear. He heard a squeak and glanced up to see Ishizu, staring at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, hands pressed against her mouth. Marik's mouth dried and he licked his lips nervously, trying to hide his trembling hands.
"Hello… father." Marik finally managed to say. Akefia's eyes snapped up, glancing from Marik to the intimidating man before them. Aknadin blinked slowly, glancing at the thief and back to his son.
"I asked you what was the meaning of this," the man emphasized. "What are you doing with this man? Don't you know he is a murderous criminal? A thief?" Marik flinched and clenched the hems of his tunic.
"I know," he replied dryly. Aknadin sighed.
"I see. And what, pray tell, were you hoping to accomplish by freeing this criminal?"
"I wanted to be free." Aknadin froze, staring at the young boy who stood, defiantly returning his gaze with blazing eyes that made the man uncomfortable. Something dark lurked within that gaze. He snarled.
"Free? Free from what? Your duties? Are you going to run away like a petty coward? I thought I'd raised you better than that," the man sneered.
"This isn't my duty!" Marik returned heatedly, "I never wanted this life! I want to go out and see the real world. I don't want to be confined to this prison you've locked me in!" Aknadin's eyes flared and he made a quick gesture towards the guards.
"Well that's too bad, because you aren't going anywhere," he hissed. Marik's eyes widened as two of the guards circled around them, blocking the exit.
"Father, you can't do this!" Marik pleaded. His father's gaze remained firm and his jaw set.
"You are coming home, and you will stay here. And this thief," he glanced at the thief, who bore his teeth and hissed threateningly, "will be put down like the bloodthirsty animal he is." Marik snapped his eyes shut.
"NO!" He screamed. At that instant, something inside him snapped. A trigger, perhaps. Some kind of emotional switch.
Marik slowly opened his eyes.
"I am afraid, dear father, that I won't be going anywhere." Aknadin froze. His eyes locked on to those of the boy standing across from him, and a cold chill spread over his skin. He growled. Those eyes. They weren't his sons. Not his pathetic, sniveling young child. These eyes were as cold and dark as the deepest depths of the earth. The amethyst in his eyes gleamed unnaturally, and the boy's disposition completely changed.
Akefia eyed the boy next to him. Something had changed. The child was no longer trembling; his left hand twitched and unconsciously smoothed out a wrinkle in his tunic. His eyes no longer held any fear, only a quiet, contemplative, coolness that even the thief cringed at. Marik began to move.
He took one step forward, then another, slowly making his way across the room until his stood face-to-face with his father. One of the guards shifted closer to Aknadin, warily eying Marik's movements.
"I will leave." Marik spoke once more, his voice cold and emotionless, precise and without a hint of doubt or wavering. It was a statement. Aknadin started and regained his composure with a dark scowl.
"You will do no such thing!" he snarled, raising a hand and backhanding the young boy across the face with a crack. Marik stumbled to the side and touched his cheek, before straightening and turning his face around to once again meet his father's eyes. A cold smile touched his lips, and a hint of cruel amusement danced in his lifeless eyes. Aknadin yowled in fury and raised his hand again, but before it could connect with Marik's face, the boy's hand shot out and latched around the man's arm.
"That wasn't a very good idea," he whispered sensuously. The boy tightened his grip on the man's arm, and flicked his hand to the side. A muffled snap resonated through the room. The guards stood, dumbfounded as Aknadin fell to his knees with an earsplitting howl, cradling the snapped wrist that Marik unceremoniously released and let drop. While his father whimpered and cursed in pain, the boy kicked him over and reached a hand into the man's tunic, pulling out a large golden rod, a round eye flanked by two wings at the top. Akefia's eyes widened and he stared with conspicuous interest at the object in Marik's hands. The boy quietly examined the article, an appreciative smile on his lips.
The guards suddenly snapped from their shock, and two of them advanced on Marik with raised spears.
"Put that down, kid, and put your hands up," they warned. Marik tossed the rod up and snatched it back out of the air.
"No, I rather like it," he replied nonchalantly, "I think I'll keep it." The guards growled and drew closer. Akefia debated whether to make a dash to disarm them, but the two other guards raised their weapons in turn. Marik simply raised the rod, pointing the eye at the closest guard.
Immediately, a strange energy filled the air – something dark and unnatural, and powerful. The guard blinked, and was suddenly thrown through the air into the wall behind him with a crash. Marik turned the rod to the other guard, and equally launched him into another wall, sending him into the realm of unconsciousness. He turned to the guards surrounding Akefia.
Akefia glanced at the guard on his left, who cringed beneath Marik's gaze, unsure of the powers he was facing. The thief used that moment of uncertainty to dash behind the man, unsheathe his own dagger, and slice the man's throat open. With a shocked gurgle, the man fell to his knees, clawing at his throat, before slumping to the ground, twitching twice before releasing his last breath. The last guard eyed the two with wide, frightened eyes, and made a frantic dash for the doorway behind Marik. The tombkeeper flicked his rod and the man crashed back into the ground, his head cracking loudly as it connected with the floor. The guard's body immediately went limp.
Aknadin, during the commotion, had managed to push away most of the pain and stood shakily on his feet, cradling his broken wrist and breathing heavily, glaring at Marik. Ishizu had watched the entire events unfold without a word, and stood trembling in the corner of the room, hands still latched over his mouth as tears poured over her cheeks.
"Return that rod immediately," Aknadin threatened between choked gasps. Marik made a sound between a throaty chuckle and a hum.
"Why should I?" he asked. "It is rightfully mine, after all."
"That's a lie! The rod will only be passed down to you when you have become my rightful heir at my passing," Aknadin snarled. Marik's grin widened and his gaze slowly shifted over his shaking father.
"Oh yes, of course. You're right. But then," he took a step forward, "that can easily be arranged." Aknadin's eyes rounded but before he could move, Marik raised the rod and slammed the man into the wall behind him. Ishizu squeaked and shuffled away, stumbling over her long dress.
With his father pinned to the wall by the dark power of the rod, Marik slowly walked over to him, pulling off the end of the rod to reveal a long, thin, pointed dagger. Aknadin's eyes widened.
"You wouldn't dare," he hissed. Marik grinned. Suddenly, a loud shriek interrupted them. Marik turned irritably to see Ishizu dash up to them and step in between the boy and his father.
"Marik, stop this immediately!" Marik frowned irritably as Ishizu stood before him, tears bursting from her eyes as she pleaded before her younger brother. "Please," she insisted, "I know you don't want to do this! This isn't you! Not the sweet young Marik that I know." Marik grimaced.
"Don't intervene, woman. Move away now." He ordered. Ishizu flinched, and began trembling again, but did not move from her position between them. Angrily, Marik waved the rod at his sister. Ishizu's breath caught as she was suddenly lifted off the ground and thrown against the wall, where she slumped lifelessly to the ground. Akefia darted over to the young girl, checking her pulse and noting with slight relief that she had simply fallen into unconsciousness. He snapped his gaze towards Marik, whose interest had quickly shifted back to his restrained father.
"Kid, that's enough," Akefia warned. You've had your revenge. If you want your freedom, we have to leave now before the others arrive." Marik glowered crossly at the thief and frowned.
"Not yet," he said, "I don't want to leave yet." Akefia growled.
"That's an order, Marik," he said. The boy jerked his head angrily towards Akefia.
"Who do you think you are, thief?" he snarled contemptuously.
"I'm the one that's going to get us both out of here alive," The man argued back, "even if I have to break your arms to do it." Marik's frown turned into a sneer.
"Let's see you try," he dared. Akefia darted towards Marik with a snarl, dropping to a roll as Marik lifted his rod. He snapped back up, pulling out his dagger and aiming for the boy's arms when Marik suddenly whipped the end of the rod down with impressive speed. Akefia immediately raised his dagger to block the attack. Marik, in turn, jerked the weapon out of the thief's hand with a flick of his wrist. Akefia swore and bounded away when the boy slashed down at him, narrowly missing getting his arm amputated. However, a large gash had formed where the sharp implement had nicked his arm.
'Damn little tyke is fast,' Akefia thought to himself, clutching his profusely bleeding limb.
"Stay out of this," Marik ordered. Akefia growled but he knew he had no choice. Left weaponless and injured, he stood no chance against the mysteriously powerful boy.
Satisfied, Marik turned back to his father, who had gotten over his shock and addressed his son with futile spite and contempt.
"You wouldn't kill your own father!" The man's usually composed voice was now wavering on the verge of hysterical. "You don't have the guts! You're just a child! A weak child who can't even take the glory and responsibility of a great future, and instead runs away like a pathetic coward!"
"Well then," Marik leaned in until his mouth was level with his father's ears, "it's a good thing I'm not that child." The tombkeeper raised his dagger, and with a haughty laugh, drove it through his father's body. Aknadin gasped, eyes bulging, and struggled against the pain. Marik pulled out the dagger and thrust it in again, slicing through the man's stomach, intestines, lungs, and finally, his heart. But by the time he pressed the dagger against Aknadin's throat, the man he had once called father was already dead.
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.:Author's Note:. Pfffff... I literally wrote this in about an hour at midnight. My eyesight is starting to waver, and I really need to get some sleep, so I apologize if there are a shit-ton of errors. I really need a beta! (any volunteers?)
Remember to leave a review! I reply to most if not all!
-DxH