The Pharaoh's Champion

There was a fire burning through her veins. Every muscle contracted and didn't let go. The pain, it was too much. Her eyes were clamped shut, everything was dark. She could feel herself drifting in and out of consciousness until a gentle quiet came and took her away, clearing the fog.

  Suddenly, her fists began to relax. Then her chest, and like a calming wave, her whole body slowly started to ease. Once she was able to wiggle her toes, she took a light breath.

 Gods, what happened to me? Her whole body ached like never before.

  She tried to piece her memories back together. The last thing she remembered was a searing pain in her leg. How much time had passed? Hours? Days? She had no idea.

  As she tried to regain control of her body, she felt something soft and smooth in her palm and stroked her thumb over it.

  Opening her eyes was a whole new problem, they felt aflame, like they would sizzle into steam. As the air hit them, she sucked in a breath through her teeth.

  They adjusted surprisingly quickly to the dimming daylight that suddenly hit them.

  Her whole body both eased and tensed when she saw the slender frame laying face-down at the end of her bed, his lower body resting on the chair normally in the corner of her room. One hand cradled his head, the other laid softly in her hand. His tri-coloured hair spilt over the blanket as he rested over her shins. Her thumb absentmindedly traced his hand, as though trying to reassure herself that this wasn't a dream. 

  There was a soft groan as she saw him wriggle awkwardly in his sleepy state. He sucked in a breath as he woke and stretched his aching muscles. Something gave an inhuman click, he must have been lying there for some time.

He went still as his eyes settled on her, understanding she was awake.

  He looked worn, but still handsome. Not long ago, she'd scoff at the idea that he worried for her. It was an insult to her skill. Now, seeing him here with his hand gripping hers in a gentle yet firm clasp, his worry was welcome. She didn't realise she was smiling until her face began to ache, it quickly vanished when she realised he was looking right at her.

  "How do you feel?" he asked trying to hide the apprehension.

  Aching. Shattered. But finding him at her bedside... "Ready for anything," she said, and she meant it to some extent.

  His face was unreadable, even as his eyes travelled across her face and down to her body. She grabbed at her blanket. It was an effort to keep her breathing steady at his sharp-eyed gaze.

 "The healers said you would have died, if those other arrows had hit you."

  Other arrows. She felt a lip curl in confusion.

 As if reading her mind, he leaned and picked up two golden gauntlets from a table next to her bed. The cuffs for her left arm she knew. There were two new dents in the metal, but they still gleamed with pride in the dimming light of day dripping through the window. She tried to lift herself but her body screamed in protest. She laughed through the pain, reaching her elbows, and gingerly shifting up her pillow, deciding that's as far as she'd get. As she took the gauntlets from him and ran her thumbs over the comforting cold metal, feeling the smooth curve until her thumbs hit the dents.

  Mother, you protected me, she thought behind a solemn smile. It was then she realised how close she had been to death. But even now, knowing that her precious mother's gauntlets had been tainted, she had no regrets.

"It's a good thing you have me. Your skin is so soft, you wouldn't have had a chance,"

  Something like amusement glinted in his eyes. "Nothing to do with your oath, then?"

  Meeting his gaze, and the air charged around them. This sharp-eyed, cunning and calculating man, seemed to make her break every defence and rule she had made of herself. She'd forget herself if she stared much longer.

"No," she answered firmly, surprising herself with her boldness.

  His fingers interlaced with hers, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. Her mind raced with all the untold promise that seemed to lay behind it.

  He shifted to move again…

 "Pharaoh, we have some news from our prisoner!" Seto burst through the doors to her chamber.

 The Pharaoh stood in answer or shock. His face was unreadable, but it was the fastest she'd seen him move for a while.

 "We have intelligence that could lead us to Bandit King Bakura's hideout." Seto began to explain the details.

 The aching seemed to ease just enough so she could sit up, although she couldn't help a small grimace at Seto's abrupt arrival. Why she was annoyed, she couldn't tell, he was The Pharaoh, it wasn't like anything would happen.

 And yet… She rubbed her temples and started to undo the bandage on her leg, desperately trying to take her mind off it. The meeting of Seto and the Pharaoh became a distant drone.

 "Zahra, you're awake!" Her head snapped toward the voice and she gasped as Tadal came bounding in and threw his arms around her. She buried her head in the nook of his neck and smiled. They stayed like that for some time, until he held her at arm's length and looked her all over. "You look pale."

 "Thank you, father. I'll make sure to get a bit more sunshine." She chuckled sarcastically, as she softly lifted her leg and pulled off the bandage. Somehow she was already feeling more invigorated and made a mental note the thank the healers for whatever they did.

 "The Scorching Badlands?" Her ear trained back to the conversation as Tadal muttered his worries about her being out for as long as had been. "But that's in the middle of the desert,"

 "Yes, Pharaoh. I will arrange for a party of guards to move in now."

 Zahra moved her fingers over the small puncture on her thigh. For some reason, she was in awe of it. Such a small wound to cause so much damage. She picked up her gauntlets, clipping them back on, jiggling those dented so they'd clasp again.

 "That may not be the best idea, this could be a trick to lure our forces away from the palace. Perhaps a smaller unit would be best." He asserted. "I will be the one to lead it."

 "Pharaoh, please," Seto argued.

 The Pharaoh raised a hand and went to leave.

 "Wait!" Zahra casually shouted as she placed her feet on the floor and braced herself to stand, her arms shaking under her weight.

 "You can't go. You're still recovering," Tadal scolded. A father to his child.

 "That's right, you still need rest," the Pharaoh added sternly.

 "Yes, well, someone has to help you," she glared at the Pharaoh and swatted Tadal's hand away as she stood, needing to do this herself.

 Her head swayed, but she caught herself and took a few steps forward. They were shaky, but she felt confident she hid it well enough.

 "Zahra, get back in-" The Pharaoh's command got cut off.

 "Remember that oath?" she stormed past him and shouted over her shoulder as she continued away, afraid that if she stopped her knees might buckle. "I get the bigger horse!"

 ****

 "Once we cross this dune," he spoke through breaths on his galloping horse. "We'll be in, the Badlands."

 "Badlands," she stated. "Quite the obvious place for bad guys to be, wouldn't you say?"

 She could have sworn there was a distant puff of laughter travelling on the wind, from the horse in front of her.

 He pulled his horse to a stop on top of the dune. The last embers of sunlight glinted off his polished jewellery. In front of them was an inhospitable and rocky wasteland, you could see the sand travel on the wind and settle on the barren ground.

 "I don't see anyone," the Pharaoh concluded. "Obviously an attempt to drag men from the palace. We should check it out, and see if there is anything there."

 Something about this place seemed… uneasy. Zahra couldn't put her finger on it. Her keen eyes scanned the wilds in front of her.

 This doesn't seem right. There was nothing here, save gaunt rocks and sand. Even with the dimming daylight, that much was obvious. 

 Why did the prisoner give this place? A question she couldn't let go of. This was the middle of nowhere, if it was to lead forces away, there was no one to meet them. To lead men here only to have them turn back, it would take them a mere hour or so to get back to the palace, certainly, not enough time to storm the gates, even with half the forces gone. 

 The Pharaoh moved in closer and slipped off his horse, kicking over the floor and scanning the horizon.

 Zahra followed, her horse's hooves sinking in the fresh sand of this ever-changing landscape. When she reached the rocks, the sounds of the horses' hooves echoed in her mind, a din that set her mind free. No, an army of men could never hide here, they would have seen them and immediately turned back to the palace. There would be signs, even in this landscape. She hopped off her horse, moving closer towards him. 

Not an army. A small team, however.

 Her eyes followed a stray breeze carrying stray grains and she noticed a patch of sand shift, as if being pushed from underneath.

 "We're not alone!" she screamed as she bounded towards The Pharaoh, backing him into a corner between two large rocks.

 Six, seven, eight men, popped out of the ground like weeds. And more came. Some bandits shouted and growled at their horses, sending them running, they were left with no way to escape.

 They surrounded them and with smug faces, they started to close in.

 "King Bakura will be glad to hear his plan worked so perfectly." A bandit cackled.

 "Silly little, Pharaoh. Who will save him now?" Another drawled.

 The bandits sniggered in unison.

 "I will."

 Mercifully, she picked up a long staff of wood as she ran to the Pharaoh. Gripping it, she swung it around, sending the bandits jumping back. It was surprisingly sturdy and flexible as she whipped it around.

 "Oh, this one's spirit." The glint of certain victory sparkled in the bandit's eyes. "I think we'll enjoy breaking it."

Zahra's breath had been a steady beat. She had no idea how long she'd need to hold this position for, but she was bred for battle, something inside her had always known that. Her makeshift weapon swiped through the air, meeting the heads of the bandits, their smirks wiped cleaning from their dusty faces.

 As the battle began, with each swipe she quickly realised that these were not ordinary bandits. Most were unorganised, primal, and lacking in skill and strategy. Not these men. 

She swiped and whipped, taking down man after man. Some got back up, some stayed down. She needed to hold strong. Then one looked up and grinned. Whipping her head around, she saw the glint of a sword come hurtling from above. 

 At that moment, the Pharaoh stepped in front of her, light beaming from the golden DiaDhank that was now sprawling out from his arm.

 The bandit, dazzled by the Pharaoh's light, dropped his sword with a clang and crumpled in a ball to the floor.

 "You've seen the light, now witness the darkness." She gave her would-be assassin the courtesy of her calloused foot in his face. Leaving him face down on the rocky sand. Unmoving.

 "I'll hold these ones back." He commanded, releasing power with a loud, booming roar.

 Zahra nodded, already staring down her next mark. Now she knew he was safe, something snapped inside. Some bandits had masks covering their faces, to shield them while they waited under the sand. Now she could still see right through them.

 Left-handed, start with the bandit to the right. 

 Her body flung into the bandit knocking the wind out of him. As the second came to counter, it was almost too easy for Zahra to raise the bandit's arm, and their blades to clash. The screech of metal on metal was somewhat foreign to her ears, she never fought to kill. Just for the thrill, and also to educate.

 People always underestimated her. Today, that would be a fatal mistake.

 Carefully bending down, never taking her eyes off the pray in front of her, she picked up the sword and ran her palm over it, teasing herself with the impressive sharpness. With all the malice and ill-intent that emanated from it, her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head. As she pushed her captive into the other bandit and kicked to send them flying into a rock, her blood soared. 

Yes, it was foreign. Now she would make it her friend. With her newly acquired weapon, she ploughed her own path, leaving a trail of bandits in her wake.

 Behind her came inhuman roars at the Pharaoh's commanded his own battle. Shocked screams echoed behind her, but she barely heard them. This was what she knew, this was what she savoured. The feel of men crumbling at her presence. Watching their perverted faces twist into terror as she overpowered them.

 The song in her blood climbed higher, and higher as she smacked, kicked and sliced through them. She didn't even notice the sun arch behind the mountains, leaving them with nothing but the endless starry sky to light the way.

 In a dance that she wished would go on forever, her foot sent a bandit flying into a pack of others. Instead of coming back at her, the downed men scrambled to their feet. Watching as they hastily stumbled away, her chest heaving from the battle, the thrill of the chase almost overpowered her.

 The Pharaoh called for her.

"That's the last of them!" she shouted back.

 Suddenly she noticed something odd. The sky, it was normally so clear out here in the desert, now there were no stars to see.

 Something's blocking them out, she realised with a start. Just then, the wind picked up behind her and seemed to howl in her ears. Shit! A sandstorm.

 Her mind raced as her eyes darted around. She couldn't see him. She couldn't see the Pharaoh.

 The sound of puffs and grunts came from behind her. Spinning around, her eyes widened, and her heart skipped.

 The Pharaoh lay flat on the desert floor, sand flicking off his body, one of Bandit King Bakura's followers hunched over him, piling all of his weight down upon him. Their fists both clutched to a dull metallic glint.

 Her instincts took over and her body moved before she could think. Sand pinged off her skin in the raging wind, it stung and cut at her like tiny shards of glass.

 He wasn't far, after the most recent attempt on his life, she promised herself to make sure of that. Though her bloodlust had sent her further than she would have liked. 

The wind was blowing straight into her face, blowing out her hair and trying to push her back, she held up an arm to see.

 The Pharaoh's grunts became more desperate, he was losing his strength. She willed her body to move faster, lowering her arm for more momentum, and leaving her eyes to the mercy of the relentless storm. She never took her eyes off the man as she stooped low and smashed her full weight into his attacker.

 ****

  This can't be how it ends…

 He felt the last of his strength drain away, his muscles starting to lag. His millennium puzzle dug hard into his diaphragm. Elbows locked, as the weight of his assailant pushed down harder, and harder.

 As the realisation of the situation hit him, his thoughts suddenly drifted to her. To her soft, smiling face every time she beat him at chess, to her determined frown when she trained. Her shiny hair, was like the sun. Her golden eyes were more precious than any jewellery.

 Suddenly, he longed to hold her hand in his again. There was no time to tell her how crushed he was, seeing her lay there, so still, for so long. He craved to tell her how thankful he was, to see her open her eyes again.

 The stab of metal pushed against his robe, digging into her body

 He would never forget her. How she felt. How she smelt. That smell… He could smell it even now, in the rising sandstorm he knew was coming, a smell like the freshest breeze on a spring morning.

 Then came a flash of golden light, and the weight of his assailant was suddenly gone. It took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts.

 "Zahra!" he jolted upright, screaming her name again and again.

 The sand started to rise in the wind, he could see the faded sight of golden hair hunched on the sand, coughing and spluttering. A second, blacker-than-night silhouette ran into the sandy abyss.

 He kept low and crawled over to her. Her cries carried on the wind. She was calling his name, as loud as she could through the choking sand, and whimpers of pain.

 On his hands and feet, he scrambled, reaching out his hand to her. "Zahra. I'm here."

 Her arm flung out towards him, waving blindly in the air, the other clutching her face. He caught her and pulled her towards him, holding her close in the growing storm.

 She sobbed gently, mumbling something he couldn't hear.

 "Zahra?" The sandstorm was getting worse, and quickly, there was nothing in front of him, except for her. "We need to take cover."

 Whipping off his long, navy cloak he wrapped it around her, a meagre shield as he sunk his hands into the sand and started to dig.

 The wind seemed to tear at him like wild beasts. Once he felt like he had made enough progress, he pulled her still-sobbing body in and shuffled under the cape, cradling her in his arms as he guided them to the sandy floor.

 The storm whipped at his cape like a pack of monsters above them. Still, he held her, they were so close that they shared breath, still, it was too dark to see her. His mouth rested on her forehead, softly shushing. As his eyes closed, he soaked up her scent, coated in a new vulnerability he had never seen before. In response, she nuzzled her head into his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

 Strands of her Goddess-like hair slipped daintily through his fingers, and then he realised, at this moment, he wouldn't trade being stuck out in this deadly sandstorm for anything.