Author's Note: You know what I've learned? Writing ancient Egypt Marik is harder than it seems when trying to keep his wonderful scatterbrained-ness, paranoia, and sarcasm… *sigh* Well I tried my best, okay?
I have a legitimate excuse for not updating. I've been moving to a new location, and you can read about how that may or may not affect future updates in my profile or on my Facebook page. Thanks to those of you who have been patient throughout the lull in updates; your support is greatly cherished.
And so, with much love and many thanks, I present onto you the next chapter:
Chapter 29
Marik's two lavender marbles for eyes rolled to the side discreetly with at least a little interest as Yami stormed out of the tent. The blonde tisked after him lightly and shook his head. Yami was gone far too quickly for his taste, seeing as he had been bored to tears without Bakura's theatrics running amok for the last few days. Marik sighed and turned his eyes back to his hieroglyphics, bored again.
Damn, how much he'd wanted a distraction… He imagined Bakura walking back into the tent where Yami had just exited, not a care in the world behind his wide smirk. But he was only kidding himself; he was aware that Bakura liked to take his time greatly when picking up some of his cronies. Marik knew as soon as the Thief King met up with them, he'd direct them immediately to the nearest village, and they would drink until Bakura was drunk enough to forget the others and would head off on his own. He'd get pretty far before sobering up, but when he did, he would either turn around to retrieve his followers or would decide to be lazy and abandon them.
Either way, Marik thought, he was at his most vulnerable during the time between drunkenness and sobriety, all alone and lost if he had drank enough to forget where he had been.
Bakura wouldn't be unarmed of course. But drunken logic didn't mix well with sharp weapons, and remembering this only made Marik worry…
Marik wrinkled his nose. Look at me, he chastised himself. I'm worrying about him like some mother hen, which is both demented and idiotic being that I'm not his mother! … Or a woman…
The blonde shook his head. Bakura always commented on how his nerves began to eat at him and wouldn't stop until he went to go solve someone else's problem…
Bakura is far too old to need a moth—father figure. Yes, I meant father figure…
But, really, it's absurd to think Bakura of all people needs my help. He's saved me more times than I can count and no amount of worry is going to change the fact that he can handle himself. Although…
I did save him one time. That one time… I don't even remember how. Strange how one event can be so crucial to someone, but memories fade so quickly.
Hmm. But I never would have saved him one time if he didn't save me a hundred times before. Especially the first time—the first time he came to my rescue. The first time I met him I immediately found him…
A memory flashed along with a very Bakura-like smirk.
… to be the most infuriating person I'd ever have the pleasure of meeting.
-transition-
Marik had left the capital earlier that night. Isis hadn't seen him as far as he was aware of, and he prayed that she remained ignorant for the time being. Supposedly, she was supposed to accompany Shada at a council with the Pharaoh. That would keep her preoccupied long enough hopefully. Those tedious council meetings were just one of the reasons Marik was leaving… But there was time to think about that later. Now was the time to think about what his plan was to free himself from his invisible prison.
Marik had planned it all out: the day, the time, the route he would he would take, the note he would leave Isis and Shada…all of it. The only thing that was never answered fully was where he was actually going.
After much negotiation with himself, the blonde decided it'd be best to hitchhike up to Alexandria and meet up with his childhood friend, Ryou. His friend's position was supposed to be a mystery to all except the Pharaoh, but rummaging through a few misplaced letters from Ryou to the Crown Prince proved to provide him enough information to know he was in that general area of Egypt. Ryou would keep his secret; that was about the only thing he was sure of at this point.
It was no surefire plan and involved a leap of the faith, but Marik thought the risk was worth it.
Before long, Marik had traveled deep into the city below the palace. More specifically, Marik was in the agora, keeping himself as unobtrusive as possible among the crowds. The sky was pale lilac, and Marik prayed for the third time since he'd left that Pharaoh had kept their council going all night like usual so that his siblings would not notice his absence until then. It had taken longer than expected to escape inconspicuously from the palace, and the morning sun shining on his empty chamber was the last thing he needed at the moment.
Since his older brother and sister worked in the Pharaoh's Royal Court and he was just young enough that he didn't have to, he simply wandered around the palace like an apparition—not a servant, not a guest, not belonging to one group or another, existing and yet not.
"Watch it!"
Marik looked down at the ground and saw that he'd accidently lost his footing and stepped on the robe of a civilian, keeping the man anchored to the ground until Marik removed it.
The blonde did but then added with it, "Mind your own business!" He hadn't meant for it to come out so heatedly, and for a second, he actually felt a stab at his conscience but brushed it away hurriedly with the weak excuse of himself being under stress.
The pedestrian who had looked more than formidable just a moment ago now had the wide eyes of a lamb and made a feeble excuse before scurrying away with a yelp.
Marik ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. That always happened. When anger lashed out from within him, people always dashed away from him like frightened deer. Why, Marik thought he'd never know. When he questioned Isis and Shada about it, the two had exchanged a look and immediately shot down any idea that he was different than anyone else. They said that he must have been imagining things. Marik found their defense hard to believe but made an effort to do so, trying to smudge the memories he had of fear in people's eyes when white-hot fury rose to the surface.
"That's him! That boy over there is possessed!"
Marik swallowed roughly and peered from the corner of his eye in the direction of the voice. He spotted the man whom he'd scared off earlier. He was accompanied by a few palace guards, too.
This wasn't in his plans.
Marik made a mad dash in a random direction, innocent bystanders being pushed aside and into each other, causing panic to spread across the marketplace in almost instantly.
Of all the places to be running for your life, this is by far the worst, Marik thought exasperatedly, lighting pushing a woman to the side and causing her to drop the chicken she was holding in a basket. The hen hit the ground with a squawk, and it began to flail its wings around in alarm, simply adding to the chaos. Feathers flew, and Marik leapt between two extravagantly dressed women into an alley.
The blonde stuffed himself into crevasse in the wall and threw a hand over his chest, hoping the blood he heard pumping through his ears wasn't as loud as it sounded. He pressed his ear to the brick wall behind him and listened.
First all he heard was the clatter of whatever turmoil he'd left behind him. Then the footsteps of his pursuers came closer and closer and closer until—they passed and there was nothing more. Marik took a sigh of relief.
One sigh too early.
A hand reached out and grappled for the collar of Marik's cloak, yanking him out of the gap in the wall. The mystery man wore a terrifying smirk that flickered in and out of the shadows casting from the mouth of the alley. And with that same wide grin, the man dragged Marik closer and closer to his face until their noses were almost touching. Finally, he divulged, "I must admit: I didn't think you'd lose them so easily. But they'll be back, and you're going to have to owe me for getting you out of the situation you've dug yourself well into."
At first Marik just wore a blank expression, not any type of emotion flickering past his eyes. At last, everything the mystery man had said registered, and Marik pushed him away, snarling, "What makes you think I need your help? You just said so yourself that you were surprised at how well I handled myself."
His supposed "savior" released a roar of a laugh. "You're getting ahead of yourself, kid. I said you did better than expected," he corrected. "You did well, but you're not me."
"And who exactly are you?" Marik asked skeptically, trying his best to ignore the implied insult.
The man blinked. "You mean you don't recognize me?"
Marik scratched his head, squinting at the other. "No…" he trailed off quietly. "Should I? Are you part of the Royal Court?"
Another howl of laughter enlightened the area. "Perhaps the farthest thing from that, really." He stopped laughing but looked at Marik again and started all over again, chuckling darkly to himself as Marik's face began to grow red.
"Just tell me, all right?" Marik tried to snarl, but it came out as more of a squeak.
The mysterious man tried to end his laughter by coughing, (which he was successful in doing,) but he couldn't rid himself of his amused smile. "Of course, of course." He gave a halfhearted bow. "I am Bakura but am more commonly referred to as the Thief King."
Marik began to tremble. The Thief King? As in the one and only? So many ghost tales of horrific events… So many legends of the impossible… Marik always thought he was just that: a legend. The Court liked to make it seem like that and made little mention of him, especially when it came to social gatherings where Marik was included. So could this really be him?
"You doubt me?" Bakura read his thoughts aloud.
"Wah? No!" Marik shook his head frantically, earning another grin from the man. "I just… You… and…" Marik cleared his throat and inquired hesitantly, "Again, what makes you think I need your help? I'll be on my way now; I can handle myself."
Marik attempted to pass Bakura, but the Thief King stretched out his arm and stopped him.
"What—"
"You know too much already. You'll have to come with me."
"Are you kidding? I know next to nothing about you!"
"No. You know where my secret hideout in the capital is."
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do. You're standing right in front of it."
"I didn't know that until you just told me."
"And now you do! So you know too much and you'll have to come with me."
Marik felt his eye twitch. Bakura just grinned triumphantly.
The blonde shook his head and questioned, "And if I refuse?"
"Either I'll kill you or the guards will that are looking for you around the corner."
Do I dare look? Marik asked himself. He turned to the side and peered over his shoulder.
Sure enough, they were there. And so was Priest Seto. And… Shada?
Marik gulped.
"So?" Bakura baited. "Should I abandon you before I change my mind, or…"
"No, no, I'll go," Marik gave in with a sigh.
"Excellent." Bakura reached for Marik's sleeve and began dragging him towards the end of the alley.
"I can walk you know!" Marik protested hoarsely as he was dragged.
"Does it look like I give a damn?" Bakura inquired back seriously.
Marik was quiet after that.
The Thief King dragged Marik until they were almost clear out of the alley but then stopped at a cellar connected to the outside wall. Bakura opened it up and peered through quickly before looking back at Marik and saying, "All right, kid, you first."
Marik wrinkled his nose. "Into the cellar? Are you insane?"
"Yes, but that's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
"This cellar has a tunnel in it that leads out of the capitol."
Marik looked a little less than convinced. "If that's so, why don't you go first?"
"I'm sorry; are you the Thief King, master escape artist and dangerous criminal wanted dead or alive? No? I didn't think so." He gave the blonde a shove. "Get moving before they hear us and discover my hideout."
Marik glared at Bakura but did as he said, taking the first plunge into the cellar.
It was complete darkness when Bakura closed the cellar doors behind them, and Marik suddenly didn't feel so brave. He thought as he crept slowly down the tunnel, If my damned night vision doesn't adjust soon, I'll going to end up running into a—
Thud.
"Careful; there's a wall there."
"Really? I wouldn't have guessed," Marik grumbled into the stone sarcastically. He could hear Bakura attempting to stifle a chuckle and wished he knew where the thief was in the darkness so he could strangle him.
"Ah! We're close!" Bakura suddenly declared.
"What? How can we be close?" Marik inquired. "We've only been walking for a few minutes."
"You don't know much of the structure of the capitol, do you?"
Marik bit back the chance to lie and say that he did, in fact, know plenty about the capitol city. "No. I've never been out of the palace before this," he admitted.
"That explains quite a lot."
"What are you insinuating?"
"Nothing, kid."
Marik pouted in the darkness, though Bakura got the idea of the gesture through his silence. But soon after, his vision finally adjusted to the darkness, and Marik could see that strange, intricate paintings were carved into the sides of the tunnel and that large and rather intimidating stalactites were hanging from the ceiling.
"You decorated this place?"
Bakura didn't have to provide an answer.
"Then who did?"
"This used to be a tunnel for evacuating the capitol in case of an emergency. Now that the population's overflowed, it'd be too dangerous to use it for anyone other than the children."
"Oh."
Only a few minutes after that, Bakura stopped in front of a vaguely established doorway in the tunnel. The white-haired man simply pushed against it a few times, and the door swung open with an eerie screech.
Light burst through the exit, and both Marik and Bakura had to shield their eyes at first. And finally when they were no longer disoriented, the two made their way out onto bright sand.
Marik turned back and saw the capitol wall out in the distance, seeming so small out on the horizon.
"I did it…" Marik said it first quietly. But then it steadily became louder. "I made it out! I did it! Did you see me, Bakura? I was so brave!"
"Yes, you were a regular fugitive out there. It was blatantly obvious the way you cowardly ran away from those guards and then let me do your dirty work."
"If I remember correctly, it is you who begged me to come along!"
"Enough chitchat, kid. We'll have to walk the rest of the day to get to the Valley of Kings, so you should save your energy."
Marik scoffed, "What makes you think I'm going with you? I need to get to Alexandria, and that's the opposite way. Not that I don't appreciate your help, but I need to get going. Good luck though."
Suddenly, the tip of a sword was balanced dangerously close to Marik's nose.
"I helped you…" Bakura started, "… and this is the thanks I get? I went through all that trouble and now you're not going to return the favor?" With every word, the blade lurked closer and closer to Marik's face. "Kid, you've got two options: You can either come back with me to the Valley of Kings as my prisoner or you can come back with me to the Valley of Kings as my newest recruit. What will it be?"
Marik blinked into his own reflection, looking back at himself in the steel of the blade. Neither of them looked too thrilled about his options at this point.
"I suppose… I'll choose the latter," Marik finally disclosed.
Bakura returned his sword into its sheath and smiled sinisterly.
"Good answer."
-transition-
"Master Marik!"
The mentioned blonde blinked a few times to push back his memories and looked up at the woman whom had permeated the tent.
"Yes, Lady Mai, what is it?" Marik asked with a little resentment infiltrating his tone on account of someone interrupting his glorious daydream.
"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," Mai apologized when she detected his antipathy and gave a slight bow. "As our King's right hand man, I should have not barged in while you were hard at work with important matters."
Though he wasn't doing anything when she had came in, he snapped, "Well you've already disrupted me, so what is it?"
"Yes, well, I'm concerned that Bakura is not back yet."
"You interrupted me for that? You know of his habits. It shouldn't be any surprise to you that he hasn't returned yet." Marik turned back to his writing and tried to make himself look busy. "Is there anything of actual importance that you needed?"
"Master Marik, I wish you would take this more seriously! Yes, I'm aware that Bakura wouldn't be back if his reputation proceeds him, but his reinforcements already are."
Marik dropped his papers. They floated gracefully onto the floor of the tent. "What do you mean, Mai?"
"I mean just what I say: The reinforcements arrived but Bakura did not accompany them."
"What did they say?" Marik asked quickly, feeling himself starting to shake.
Mai shifted her stance hesitantly and reported, "The leader of the reinforcements said that they lost track of Bakura in a village east of the Valley of Kings." Marik nodded; everything so far sounded customary. "Then the leader also added that Bakura confessed in his drunken state where they were reporting to, so when they got separated, the corroboration was able to find our hideout here below the palace."
"And they didn't pass Bakura on their way here?"
Mai shifted again nervously. "That's the thing, Master Marik; they did see him. Them saw that he had wandered off his usual path and was farther out in the desert and with… someone."
"Who, Mai? I don't have time for this!"
"Motou," she choked out with some difficulty. "It was Motou."
So you did find him, Yami… Marik thought with a chill. Bakura would be the only one who could put out that inferno. Marik pitied anyone Yami had run into on the way there. "I don't think we need to be concerned," Marik stated, turning back to his work. "Really, Mai, I'm surprised you don't have more faith in our King."
Mai lowered her gaze. "Yes, Master Marik. I won't disturb you any longer."
Marik nodded his approval, and Mai made for the exit of the tent. "Oh, and Mai," Marik called after her softly, "Hint that Bakura will be back safety in no time to the others so that panic won't spread among them, and tell those new reinforcements the same and along with the orders of staying quiet until our King returns."
"They won't be happy you know-" Mai mumbled, "-to get the orders to remain low for now. They seemed extra eager to be working with Master Bakura."
"That's none of my concern," Marik brushed it away. "If they get too disorderly, simply assure them that Bakura isn't too far behind."
"One more thing," Mai requested.
"Yes?"
"What if Bakura is far behind? Should I just keep repeating the same thing over and over? They won't believe it forever."
Marik balanced a hieroglyphics brush between his tan fingers and looked out the window for a minute. It was a little past noon and the hottest it'd been all that summer.
"If that occurs, then I suppose I should go after him if it starts to get dark. Does that satisfy you, Mai?"
She simply nodded and disappeared out of the tent.
As soon as she was gone, Marik dropped his brush and closed his eyes.
Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember…
-transition-
"This heat is killing me. You must be superhuman or something to be able to stand it," Marik called ahead, trailing far behind Bakura.
"No, I'm just used to it," Bakura mumbled. He barely paid attention to the other anymore as he'd been complaining for the last hour and a half, and Marik's strained voice was moving higher and higher on his very long list of things he despised.
"So…" Marik hollered weakly at the Thief King, "… we're almost there, right? Because my feet are aching quite awfully. Please tell me it's close. How far do you think it is? Could you count the number of minutes on your hand? Or would you have to use paper? Bakura? Bakura? Ba-KUR-AHHH?"
"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?" Bakura spun on his heels and glared at the blonde with a look that could kill. He continued, "There are very few things I classify as torture anymore, but your voice has absolutely made the list."
Marik pouted. "That's cruel, Bakura…"
"You want to talk about cruelty? Have you listened to yourself recently?"
Marik's lower lip quivered.
Bakura placed two fingers on his temple and growled low in his throat. This kid isn't worth it… he automatically found himself thinking. But very quickly he forcibly changed his thoughts. No, I can't think like that right now. He's obviously from the palace, which means he knows the layout and perhaps some royal secrets. Also, he has more than likely received an education, and no one in the damned group knows how to write, so I need him as our scribe.
On the outside, Marik was still attempting to make himself appear as innocent as possible, but on the inside, he was giving himself a pat on the back. If I can just get him annoyed enough, maybe he'll fulfill my wish to reach Alexandria. He inwardly smirked. He has no idea he's being fooled.
Finally, Bakura sighed and gestured for Marik to keep following him. He did so with a smile, shadowing the Thief King faithfully like a little blonde lamb.
Thank Ra we're close… Bakura thought with a second sigh. I don't know how much more I could take of this.
Meanwhile, Marik thought with a silent chuckle, In no time at all, I'll be shipped off to Alexandria. There's nothing special about me, so I doubt he'll tolerate me much longer.
Author's Note: I'll have to continue this flashback next chapter, because this chapter is getting too long. Luckily, I think I'll be updating really soon. :D
I'm not sure they had the term "kid" in ancient Egypt, but if they didn't, Bakura would have invented it.
My readers are the sprinkles to my cupcake, the cookies to my milk, and the anime to my weekend. I appreciate you all and hope you'll take the time to review.