Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Distance ❯ Wings ( Chapter 4 )

Okay, first, I would just like to say how I am very sorry that this chapter came out so late. I am really trying to make it so that the updated chapters of "Final Distance" and "Distance" won't conflict with each other in the sense that they will give out too many spoilers of each other. I hope that no one is too confused at what's happening or that my chapters are too short (in my opinion, the chapters to "Distance" are much shorter than that of "Final Distance"). Another reason why I posted this up so late is that I just know you guys will hate me after this chapter. But thank you all again for your wonderful reviews! Sorry to the ones on MM.org…I put an extension to the third chapter of this story and it killed your reviews…

On with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them! I don't even want Ptolemy, someone please take him off my hands. Also, warnings to this chapter for graphic violence. At least I think it's graphic.

Chapter 4--Wings

Yami watched intently at the foreign boy sitting across from him, his heart thumping with anticipation. The two of them have now been learning magic for some time, Seth of the sole reason of self-defense and Yami for the sake that he would soon inherit his father's place in the Shadow Games. At first the Pharaoh was hesitant about allowing Seth to be educated with the arts of magic at all, the endless two-year bickering of Ptolemy finally influencing him a bit. But, like a shoulder angel to Ptolemy's shoulder devil, Yami argued stubbornly until the Pharaoh gave in and allowed Seth to be educated in only basic magic. As soon as Seth was allowed to touch magic, however, he gobbled it up like a grand feast, unable to get enough. Eventually, he had no more to learn over what was basic. Seeing that he had such talent in magic, the Pharaoh was tempted to allow him to go into the same studies as Yami, but didn't go through due to Ptolemy's opposition. The High Priest gave the Pharaoh two weeks of Hell about how "The little Belgae demon would blow up Egypt in a heartbeat if he were taught how to use a fireball spell." Therefore, it was now forbidden to teach any advanced magic to Seth, as talented as he was. Defiance, however, was not an easy thing to overcome, and Yami made it his job to sneak his teaching scrolls to his friend. Amazingly enough, Seth was able to comprehend all of them within mere hours and try them out in secret.

Now, the two boys were sitting inside Ishisu's room since the healer had gone on her training pilgrimage to become a priestess. She left about a year ago, when her magic was deemed strong enough to allow her to survive the spiritual quest. She left her room vacant and free for Yami and Seth to sneak in every so often to play games, and as times when on and in times like these, for Seth to practice his magic without fear of Ptolemy's "eye and ears." The pair was practicing something that Yami had a hard time grasping-stone prediction, which Seth remembered seeing his own sweet mother practice back at home a long, long time ago. It was really simple to him, just place the stones a certain way on a piece of animal hide next to the right herbs and bones, then toss certain stones here or there to see how things come out. Apparently Yami couldn't get it, so he was watching how Seth's predictions would come out.

"Will it rain soon?" Yami asked, licking his parched lips. He leaned over to study the placement of the rocks and bones that Seth had set, trying to remember it in his own mind. He was worried about the conditions of the rain; the flooding of the Nile this year had, for some reason, been overdue for the past few weeks, Egypt having been hit by a strange draught. The Pharaoh was getting worried that the end would be near for some of his people, and he was ready to take his own life, if need be, to show the gods that he had faith in them. The plans for his tomb were already underway, and they were building it now in the event that the great Pharaoh would sacrifice his own ka for the lives of the people, for rain.

"Do you want to ask me about the rain or the process of your father's tomb, Prince? Please decide on one," Seth asked, annoyed. He rolled two ocean-smoothed rocks that the two of them have found around their "playground" in his palm.

"The tomb, then," Yami muttered, stuffing his cheek into one hand. "Ra knows it won't rain anytime soon." Seth sighed and rolled the stones a bit more, his left hand shifting one herb and then he tossed the two stones on the sheep hide. "Have faith in the gods, Prince, it'll all work out," Seth comforted. He then leaned down and shifted a few more stones before he drew back with an audible gasp. Yami's eyes shot up from the sheep hide to Seth's widened eyes, just as shocked as Seth was, not because he saw what Seth saw, but because of the doubts that now swarmed inside his mind.

"What? What is it? What happened?" Yami demanded. His hands disturbed the stones as he reached out to remove Seth's hands from the pale face.

"Something terrible is going to happen at the tomb's construction site…" Seth whispered, shaking from horror. "People are going to die…" Yami cocked his head and sat back, sighing loudly. Seth must have done something wrong, he concluded. To see such a horrible thing on such a grand scale was impossible for a novice like him, for these things are done in levels of severity in the context of the future. The more advanced the sorcerer, the easier it is to see disastrous events for then these sorcerers were expected to predict and forewarn the rulers of war or things such as these. Amateurs could probably only see what's for dinner, at most. Yami decided that Seth must have been acting and faking it. But that thought was soon ended when a messenger ran through the gates of the palace screaming, and Seth didn't laugh to tell Yami that this was al a hoax. Hearing the messenger's shouts, Yami and Seth both got up and ran down to the Grand Hall where audiences with the Pharaoh were held.

Upon entering, Seth bowed to the Pharaoh and walked behind Yami, even though the two of them had been walking at the same pace in the hallway. Ptolemy shot the boy an ugly glance and waved his long, bony hand under his tall nose (which seemed to have only gotten taller over the past two years). Seth kept his head low, his eyes on the floor, trying to find a smudge that he would find interesting enough to not jerk his head up and talk during the emergency audience. The last time he did, Ptolemy had convinced the Pharaoh that Seth was acting completely out of line and forbade him to speak for a whole two weeks, beating him if he made even the smallest sound with his lips. Now, Seth stood behind Yami and listened with intent ears as the blanched messenger was granted to speak.

"T-the columns at the gate of the tomb collapsed, Your Highness," the messenger stammered, "T-there are about t-twenty w-workers trapped behind the rocks and sand that came along with the top of the gate…" At this news, the Pharaoh shot up immediately from his chair and stared at the messenger, horrified.

"Twenty?" the Pharaoh whispered in disbelief. Yami made a small gasp and then glanced behind at Seth, who whimpered slightly. Ptolemy raised an eyebrow at their movements. "How could this happen?" the Pharaoh murmured, collapsing into his throne, rubbing his temples. He waved the messenger away, ordering the man to get as many able-bodied people as possible to start removing the rubble to save the men. All construction work on the tomb will have to cease for now.

Before he could stop himself, Yami burst out with the words: "Seth already knew." Three pairs of eyes immediately shot glances upon Yami's form; Ptolemy's, the Pharaoh's, and Seth's.

"How?" Ptolemy demanded, approaching Yami and Seth dangerously. His small, rat-like eyes glared down at Seth and Yami could swear he felt the hot breath from Ptolemy's huge nose blowing onto him. Both boys cringed and Yami mentally slapped himself for having been so direct. If the two of them didn't come out with a good excuse as to how Seth knew, then they would both be punished. Yami would probably be punished quite harshly for sneaking scrolls to him, but god knows what Ptolemy would do to Seth. "Well?" Ptolemy pressed, still waiting for an answer.

Whether it was going insane from fear or just plain annoyance at Ptolemy, Seth never knew what brought him to stand out and state what he did. Perhaps it was the blood of the Belgae flowing inside him that ordered him to not be pushed down like this, or something of the sort. He walked past Yami and looked at Ptolemy square in the eye and then at the Pharaoh. "It was really obvious," Seth stated. "May I have the plans to the tomb, please?" At first Ptolemy looked as though he were going to protest, but his jaws clamped shut with an audible "snap" when the Pharaoh waved for Shimon to bring Seth the scroll. Once the scroll was set in the soft, delicate little hands, Seth opened it up and pointed at the drawing of the tomb's gate. The blueprint that Ptolemy had designed despite the fact that Shimon had designed tombs for the royal family for the past two generations.

"See, here's your problem," Seth pointed out, his finger on the scroll. The Pharaoh stood up from his throne and looked over the boy's shoulder. "The radius of the top and bottom of the columns that were supposed to hold the gate up weren't wide enough to support all the weight of the top of the gate, and therefore collapsed. If you had made four of the same size instead of two or doubled the radius, then this could have been avoided." With that, Seth pulled out a small piece of charcoal he had in a pouch on his belt and scribbled down calculations. "This should work." The Pharaoh stared at the boy in fascination and ruffled the mahogany hair, smiling. Ptolemy looked close to having an aneurysm.

"I see, so it was actually the blueprint that had a problem, Ptolemy," the Pharaoh said, his tone dangerously thin as he gave Ptolemy a warning look. "I suppose it was just too much for you alone." Ptolemy immediately got down on his knees, the golden bangles on his wrists clanking onto the ground as his palms made contact with the stone floors. "Forgive me, Your Highness!" he begged, his eyes squeezed shut in fear of the fact that if he opened them, he just might see the form of his undertaker. The Pharaoh sighed at his brother's exhibition of fear and strode over to Ptolemy, motioning for him to stand. The man did, but he still didn't dare to look at the Pharaoh in the eye. "Since it's too much work for you and your son is probably in no condition to help you…I suggest that you take Seth as your apprentice," the Pharaoh suggested. "He would be a great help to you. I hope that these mistakes don't happen again," he finished with a cautionary tone, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Ptolemy nodded rapidly, looking at Seth with eyes that were full of pure hatred, Seth having been the source of such humiliation on his part. Seth took a small step back, watching Ptolemy as the lanky priest regained his composure and bowed deeply to the Pharaoh.

"It would be my honor to have such a brilliant apprentice, Pharaoh," Ptolemy murmured humbly, but his words were dripping with deception. Yami sneered at him, feeling triumphant thanks to Seth, and pulled his friend away, back to Ishisu's room.

***

That night, as Seth was getting ready for bed, he heard a strange rustling sound outside his new room. His room was a modest one that was in the scribe's quarters, where the scribes as well as their apprentices stayed. Shimon, however, didn't stay here with the others, being the Royal Scribe he was. No one who was of such high stature had to stay in these communal quarters, but Seth would rather stay here. He saw no point in ostracizing himself from everyone else, and rather liked the family feel the scribe's dorms gave him. He had just moved in today after being appointed apprentice to Ptolemy. The man had surprisingly not yelled at him or given him any difficulty on the first day of their work together. Seth hoped that Ptolemy was just treating him as an apprentice; the lines between personal business and official business should be clear enough to Ptolemy. Sighing, Seth stuffed his scrolls into his new shelves in this small room, ignoring the rustling outside. Since he was a new addition to the community, or maybe it was because he looked so foreign, his room was a bit isolated from others, in the far end of the large dorm. But everyone was nice enough to him, it seemed. He figured that it was probably nothing more than a small animal outside his window.

After he finally finished tidying up his room, Seth stood back, looking at his new room and smiled in satisfaction. He finally managed to get himself here, out of the servant's quarters, and into the scribe's. It was a long two years since Ptolemy had been so influencing on the Pharaoh, causing his education to be so greatly hindered. But now he was going to be able to learn lots of things, just like all the other privileged scribes. Smiling to himself again, he tread over to the bed that was spread out for him on the floor, getting ready for a good night's rest to prepare for a big day tomorrow.

Suddenly, the rustling outside got louder and closer, and something burst into his room, shoving Seth's frail form to the bed, face down. His assailant was quick and pressed Seth's face to the hay-filled mattress, muffling the cries for help that the boy made. Caught off guard, Seth tried to fend off his attacker, his hand going to the dagger on his belt only to have his wrist captured and held in a death grip with his other wrist over the small of his back. Frightened, Seth squirmed, this situation not at all unlike the time when he was captured by the Phoenician slave traders who found him hiding in the corner of his burning house, his family members long since killed around him. His attack growled and Seth heard what was unmistakably the sound of a dagger being unsheathed, which only made the boy struggle more. The dagger that was drawn was shoved next to Seth's neck, barely missing the boy's soft skin. But due to his late reaction to the acknowledgement of the dagger's presence next to his neck, Seth's struggling only brought his skin against the edge of the dagger, causing the sharpness to cut slightly into the skin. Gasping in pain, Seth understood the consequences if he were to continue writhing and he stopped, his chest heaving against the mattress of his bed, his breath smothered under the attacker's body.

"You little demon," he heard the voice growl. Seth's eyes flew open at the sound of the voice and he turned his head abruptly, the dagger cutting mercilessly into his neck as he did this, but he saw the face of his assailant. It was Ptolemy. The High Priest, seeing that his face was no longer a mystery to his prey, cursed and shoved Seth's head back down against the bed, his fingers gripping harshly at Seth's soft, brown hair, pressing the boy against the bed as he straddled the lithe form. "So you want to embarrass me, don't you? Well, I'll make your life as a scribe so miserable you'll wish you never came to Egypt, that you could have stayed in your demonic Hell with your kind." He then pulled at Seth's wrists with such brute force Seth heard one of his arms pop, dislocated. His one shoulder went slack as that arm became useless now and could no longer struggle, not that it did him any good anyway.

"Where are your wings, you little demon?" he heard the crazed man huff. The hand that held his head down went to the back collar of Seth's tunic and tore downwards, exposing a flawless, creamy white back. "Where are they? I'll make them come out." The same hand reached over to Seth's belt, and for a moment Seth's stomach tightened at the thought that the man was going to fondle and violate him, something that he had seen the Phoenicians do to some of the boys in his village when it was raided. He was kept a virgin because they had decided that he could sell for a high price in Egypt. But instead, the hand grabbed the dagger on Seth's belt, unsheathing it.

"Where are they?! You can't hide them forever!"

"I don't know what you're…" Seth had finally mustered up enough courage to protest, but that only agitated Ptolemy more. White heat shot through his eyes as time seemed to stop and he no longer heard his own gasping nor the High Priest's voice. All he heard was a small squishing sound that was produced as the point of the dagger dug into his skin in the area just around his shoulder blade. Pain electrocuted through his body as he felt the coldness of the dagger along with the heat of his own skin and flesh being opened on his back, the dagger dragging down his skin. Ptolemy made sure that it hurt, being deliberately slow in his method and moving the dagger so that it took out just a small strip of flesh and skin, drawing a thin crevice into the delicate skin. Tears of pain rolled down from Seth's blue eyes as he gasped for air, his breath caught in his throat from the agony. Blood oozed out from his wound, squeezing from the layer of skin that Ptolemy cruelly lifted by shoving his fingers underneath and pulling it up, as though check to see if there were demonic wings under that layer of skin and flesh. To his insanity's disappointment, there was not a wing on this side. He then went and repeated the process on the right side of Seth's back, drawing another line identical to the first sadistically down the already bloodied skin. Finally, Seth screamed, the pain too much to bear as the blood of the new wound flowed onto the first one, causing it to burn, and he could have sworn he heard his skin sear as though someone were branding him, which wasn't that far from the truth. He was going to be scarred for life from these cuts, he was sure of it.

"Don't scream, you little demon!" Ptolemy ordered, pulling the dagger out after having stopped dragging it at the point just above the small of Seth's back. His hand reached out and he knocked Seth's head enough so that the boy would shut up, but not enough to knock him out, unfortunately. Whimpering, Seth settled his face back onto the mattress and sobbed, shaking from fear. He felt the wispy hair of Ptolemy's wig brush against the back of his neck and he jolted, the contact of the man sending pure terror down his spine. Hot breaths brushed against Seth's attentive ear as Ptolemy spoke. "Don't you dare tell anyone of this…or else I'll make sure that next time the snake does kill your precious little Prince. Perhaps a bag full of scarabs in his bed would do the trick…"

"Please don't do it!" Seth begged, his neck digging against the blade next to him. The pain there didn't bother him so much now, and his biggest fear was toward the threat.

"Then learn to stay out of my way!" Ptolemy spat, slapping the boy before standing up to study his handiwork, throwing down Seth's dagger and retrieving his own in the process. "There, blemished and not even fit for a royal bed whore when I'm done with kicking you out as a scribe. You can't be the Prince's `royal friend' for forever. I'll make sure you get yours, you little demon." Spitting, he left the room in a huff, leaving Seth to bleed on the bed.

Once he made sure Ptolemy's footsteps had fully disappeared, Seth supported himself up by one arm, the other one dangling uselessly at his side. His blood flowed freely on his back, and just getting up sent shocks of pain through his muscles, but he daren't scream in fear that it would rouse up a commotion which would, without a doubt, end up in him having to explain what happened. He wanted to avoid the explaining part at all costs, now that he knew that it was Ptolemy that set the snake on Yami those two years ago. He murmured a small healing spell under his breath and sighed as he felt the wounds close a bit, but still leaving a small slit that would have to clot on its own. He groaned and pressed his dislocated shoulder against the wall and pressed until he heard a crack that signified the arm going back into the right slot. Sighing, he sat back, tears still running down from the ordeal, fear pulsing through his mind.

"Why?" he whispered, laying down on his side, curling up into a ball. He was careful no to put too much weight onto the wound as he sobbed into his arms. "Why?" He continued to ask himself this question as he cried himself to sleep.

Little did he know, a creature watched him from the shadows of his room, its gold eyes glimmering as it smiled. He watched the blood glisten on Seth's back from the moonlight, like wine spilled over cream. Grinning, he licked his lips and watched the boy fall into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Such beautiful blood…

To be continued…

Sorry that this chapter took so long to be put up. I was really caught up in updating "Final Distance," and also trying to not sleep so much when I have so much to do.

Sorry that this had to happen to Seth, but it's to build up on what will happen later on in the story. Who would like to guess at who was watching Seth?