Through the Sands of Time
folder
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,746
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,746
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Prologue
Through the Sands of Time
By: K. C. Hulsman
Prologue
6/19/03
------------------------------------------------------
The hot desert wind had howled since the onset of the dawn duel, and had only finally abated as the slivered moon rose high into the sky. This feast day of Sekhmet, the first day of Koiak, had begun poorly.
The Pharaoh Ibenre had made at best distracted offerings and honorings to the Goddess Sekhmet, for his mind lay troubled elsewhere. The goblet of wine he had brought with him sat forgotten as condensation dripped like glistening tears down the golden gleaming surface.
“Pharaoh,” called out a voice from the darkness, uncertain as the newcomer scanned the shadow wreathed room.
Ibenre turned his head towards the sound, the words returning him to this time and this place. “Menmaatre.” The reply was an acknowledgement merely of his presence.
Menmaatre allowed his ears to guide him through the dark chambers towards him. “There are matters we need to discuss.”
Ibenre sighed, his arm raising as his fingers combed through his sun-rayed hair, his mark of prophecy. “Yes I suppose there are.” He looked out to the night sky.
“Nomti yet lives. The black eyes red dragon absorbed most of the final attack. If we can ensure his wounds stay free from infection, and we drive away the shadow and taint upon him successfully, then he should recover. But, it will be a long and very precarious journey back to recovery.” He cautioned.
Exhaling deeply, Ibenre's lips quirked with relief. Although it was too dark to see the change, Menmaatre could sense it.
“I am glad,” came the murmured replied. “I had worried.”
Menmaatre frowned, and moved closer. Kneeling before the Pharaoh—his friend, his cousin, his once enemy—he touched his hand gently. “I would, if I could, not trouble you with more burdens, especially tonight, for I know you are weary and need rest…” He sighed cutting off his own preamble. “I am hard pressed to accomplish all that I have sworn to do: as your vizier, as a high priest to you and Egypt, as a priest to Anubis, and as your companion in these duels. I cannot juggle all of these tasks alone and unaided. I need… assistance.”
Ibenre regarded his friend soberly. In all the years he had known Menmaatre, he had never knelt to him. He was too proud for that. Measuring his words carefully, he replied “I apologize for not noticing your plight sooner.”
Menmaatre relaxed slightly, the Pharaoh's words causing some of the tension to ebb from him. “I have kept it from you, not wishing to burden you further. But I cannot be High Priest to this land, your advisor, duelist, and healer of our wounded.”
Ibenre placed a hand heavy with controlled power upon his friend's tense shoulder. “What do you need from me?”
Menmaatre rocked back from his knees to rest on his heels. “I need you to release someone from the command you have placed on them.”
Beneath the sun-spiked hair, Ibenre's brows creased in a frown, trying to figure out whom he could mean. The dawn of realization as swift and strong as Ra, struck him. “No.” His voice was grating like the stone of the great pyramids being pushed into place. “I will not allow it.”
Menmaatre sighed, his breath as weary and weak as an old man's. I would not ask, if I could think of any other solution. I cannot call up anyone else with the requisite skills of superb surgeon, master of sekhem, and able to drive back the darkness that we fight. Who is also known to be unquestionably loyal to our cause.” Menmaatre looked up, striking his rod against the cold stone floor, flames dancing in mid-air between them. “I wish her safe as well, but if you intend to end these games once and for all, there is no other option.”
The flames painted the Pharaoh's countenance like a chiaroscuro, adding heightened intensity to his gaze as he probed and searched his High Priests' eyes. Convinced of his sincerity, his dark amethyst eyes awa away to return to contemplation of the darkness. The words emerged with slow care, “Are you certain there is no one else, or that you have not overlooked another viable solution?”
Menmaatre's voice echoed, although the words themselves were quiet they reverberated throughout the room at their importance. “Yes. I have been thinking on this matter for some time now. I kept saying to myself that I would manage, but after today… I know better.” The intonation turned bitter at the admittance. “MY strength will fail at this pace. I barely manage to find time to rest now. I am beginning to lose focus and concentration.”
Ibenre frowned at this. The utterance of the words proof far more than the words themselves of how badly things must be. “Could you not just manage to send for a variety of different healers and priests to assist you?”
“These games… have as you know, had terrible and very real physical manifestations in our world: disease, famine, drought, plagues. The priests and healers are overwhelmed, beleaguered and undersieged throughout the width and breadth of Egypt. Even several priests combined would not equal her abilities.” He paused licking his lips nervously as he changed his appeal from the Pharaoh, to his friend. “Ibenre. She is a Priestess of Sekhmet, born in the morning sun, holder of the great mysteries, trained in the warrior ways. Her destiny is wrapped up in ours and it is wrong to keep her away. She will be entangled irregardless of our efforts to keep her free. She is strong and would stand here at your side. She is a gift of Sekhmet, the great mother of Pharaoh, for you. We will be far stronger by her presence and aid here, and only with her do we truly have a chance of accomplishing our goal.”
The words had cost him, that much Ibenre knew, for it was not so long ago when they had competed against each other for her hand in marriage. Ibenre bowed his head an unspoken acknowledgement and token of respect for Menmaatre's honesty. “I asked you to oath to but two things when I appointed you my High Priest. I asked that you would be loyal, and that you would be unafraid to speak the truth to me. You have never failed me of either. Send for her, then.”
Menmaatre bowed his head. “So it shall be done.”
He rose to his feet, as the flickering flame he had created teretered out. Turning, he moved silently with the controlled grace of a panther to the door, leaving the Pharaoh to his thoughts.
She is going to kill me, he thought, for he recalled all too well how they had parted.
------------------------------------------------------
End Prologue
to be continued
Author's Note:
Koiak – By our calendar, October 17
By: K. C. Hulsman
Prologue
6/19/03
------------------------------------------------------
The hot desert wind had howled since the onset of the dawn duel, and had only finally abated as the slivered moon rose high into the sky. This feast day of Sekhmet, the first day of Koiak, had begun poorly.
The Pharaoh Ibenre had made at best distracted offerings and honorings to the Goddess Sekhmet, for his mind lay troubled elsewhere. The goblet of wine he had brought with him sat forgotten as condensation dripped like glistening tears down the golden gleaming surface.
“Pharaoh,” called out a voice from the darkness, uncertain as the newcomer scanned the shadow wreathed room.
Ibenre turned his head towards the sound, the words returning him to this time and this place. “Menmaatre.” The reply was an acknowledgement merely of his presence.
Menmaatre allowed his ears to guide him through the dark chambers towards him. “There are matters we need to discuss.”
Ibenre sighed, his arm raising as his fingers combed through his sun-rayed hair, his mark of prophecy. “Yes I suppose there are.” He looked out to the night sky.
“Nomti yet lives. The black eyes red dragon absorbed most of the final attack. If we can ensure his wounds stay free from infection, and we drive away the shadow and taint upon him successfully, then he should recover. But, it will be a long and very precarious journey back to recovery.” He cautioned.
Exhaling deeply, Ibenre's lips quirked with relief. Although it was too dark to see the change, Menmaatre could sense it.
“I am glad,” came the murmured replied. “I had worried.”
Menmaatre frowned, and moved closer. Kneeling before the Pharaoh—his friend, his cousin, his once enemy—he touched his hand gently. “I would, if I could, not trouble you with more burdens, especially tonight, for I know you are weary and need rest…” He sighed cutting off his own preamble. “I am hard pressed to accomplish all that I have sworn to do: as your vizier, as a high priest to you and Egypt, as a priest to Anubis, and as your companion in these duels. I cannot juggle all of these tasks alone and unaided. I need… assistance.”
Ibenre regarded his friend soberly. In all the years he had known Menmaatre, he had never knelt to him. He was too proud for that. Measuring his words carefully, he replied “I apologize for not noticing your plight sooner.”
Menmaatre relaxed slightly, the Pharaoh's words causing some of the tension to ebb from him. “I have kept it from you, not wishing to burden you further. But I cannot be High Priest to this land, your advisor, duelist, and healer of our wounded.”
Ibenre placed a hand heavy with controlled power upon his friend's tense shoulder. “What do you need from me?”
Menmaatre rocked back from his knees to rest on his heels. “I need you to release someone from the command you have placed on them.”
Beneath the sun-spiked hair, Ibenre's brows creased in a frown, trying to figure out whom he could mean. The dawn of realization as swift and strong as Ra, struck him. “No.” His voice was grating like the stone of the great pyramids being pushed into place. “I will not allow it.”
Menmaatre sighed, his breath as weary and weak as an old man's. I would not ask, if I could think of any other solution. I cannot call up anyone else with the requisite skills of superb surgeon, master of sekhem, and able to drive back the darkness that we fight. Who is also known to be unquestionably loyal to our cause.” Menmaatre looked up, striking his rod against the cold stone floor, flames dancing in mid-air between them. “I wish her safe as well, but if you intend to end these games once and for all, there is no other option.”
The flames painted the Pharaoh's countenance like a chiaroscuro, adding heightened intensity to his gaze as he probed and searched his High Priests' eyes. Convinced of his sincerity, his dark amethyst eyes awa away to return to contemplation of the darkness. The words emerged with slow care, “Are you certain there is no one else, or that you have not overlooked another viable solution?”
Menmaatre's voice echoed, although the words themselves were quiet they reverberated throughout the room at their importance. “Yes. I have been thinking on this matter for some time now. I kept saying to myself that I would manage, but after today… I know better.” The intonation turned bitter at the admittance. “MY strength will fail at this pace. I barely manage to find time to rest now. I am beginning to lose focus and concentration.”
Ibenre frowned at this. The utterance of the words proof far more than the words themselves of how badly things must be. “Could you not just manage to send for a variety of different healers and priests to assist you?”
“These games… have as you know, had terrible and very real physical manifestations in our world: disease, famine, drought, plagues. The priests and healers are overwhelmed, beleaguered and undersieged throughout the width and breadth of Egypt. Even several priests combined would not equal her abilities.” He paused licking his lips nervously as he changed his appeal from the Pharaoh, to his friend. “Ibenre. She is a Priestess of Sekhmet, born in the morning sun, holder of the great mysteries, trained in the warrior ways. Her destiny is wrapped up in ours and it is wrong to keep her away. She will be entangled irregardless of our efforts to keep her free. She is strong and would stand here at your side. She is a gift of Sekhmet, the great mother of Pharaoh, for you. We will be far stronger by her presence and aid here, and only with her do we truly have a chance of accomplishing our goal.”
The words had cost him, that much Ibenre knew, for it was not so long ago when they had competed against each other for her hand in marriage. Ibenre bowed his head an unspoken acknowledgement and token of respect for Menmaatre's honesty. “I asked you to oath to but two things when I appointed you my High Priest. I asked that you would be loyal, and that you would be unafraid to speak the truth to me. You have never failed me of either. Send for her, then.”
Menmaatre bowed his head. “So it shall be done.”
He rose to his feet, as the flickering flame he had created teretered out. Turning, he moved silently with the controlled grace of a panther to the door, leaving the Pharaoh to his thoughts.
She is going to kill me, he thought, for he recalled all too well how they had parted.
------------------------------------------------------
End Prologue
to be continued
Author's Note:
Koiak – By our calendar, October 17