Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Return To Innocence ❯ The Sorceress Wakes ( Chapter 8 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

It was an ominous shade of black in the tunnel, though the workers forced to go ahead tried their best to light the torches that where perched on the walls. How strange that a tomb that no one was ever to enter was prepared with torches to light the way. Although the precision traps that had already been tripped by some unfortunate and ultimately worthless men, balanced out the equation. The entire structure was a mind game, playing on your feelings. The torches made it look like it was clear sailing, but the traps told you otherwise, and too late for those stuck in them. Already, workers had been beheaded and diced to bits by flying blades, a metal rack covered in spikes had claims three other lives, and then Dilandau's all time favorite, the flame thrower. Yes that had been fun to watch the poor wretch burn to death, screaming all the while. Suddenly those in front of him stopped, nearly causing him to run into one of the filthy men leading their procession.

"Ugh, what is the meaning of..." he stopped speaking when he saw what had halted their progress. It was another set of doors like those at the entrance of the tunnel. The rearing snakes,their extended fangs, and that strange writing again. Dilandau growled to himself. Damn ancient languages.

"Open it." he ordered the Nahreim that had been chosen to come. They obediently bowed their heads and shuffled towards the doors. What a bunch a dirty crazies, he thought. Then a low humming came forth from the small group of men. They were chanting, gradually increasing their volume.

"Opeishne i'itn theish nateme oiv'fe theish Goiv'ddeishss." they repeated.

One of the ragged monks stepped forward and threw the contents of a vile onto the doors. This seemed to do the trick. The writing on the doors began to glow. The soft curvature of their letters became distinct amongst all the darkness. The group stopped their chanting and the solitary monk spoke in a loud and forceful voice.

"I'itn theish nateme oiv'fe theish Goiv'ddeishss, opeishne!"

There came a drawn out groan, as if the rocks themselves were sore from the lack of movement. To the amazement of all assembled, except the Nahreim, the doors opened. Slowly like they were being pulled open from the inside. The workers left were terrified. Magic was something lost to them and the makings of legends, not a reality. But here it was, and it was scaring them senseless. Dilandau could smell their fear. Both appealing and appalling, he thought.

"Go." he impatiently ushered the workers to go first. They were expendable.

They obeyed, albeit warily, but this didn't save the majority. Upon stepping in the burial room only a few feet, there was a quick whistling sound and they met with a swift death. Spears had shot from the walls apparently, but the source wasn't important, the end result was still that they were dead. Dilandau shrugged this off. None of his concern.

"Are their any other lovely surprises I need to know about, monk?" he asked of the man who had spoken to him earlier.

"No, my Lord."

"Good. Now let's see what we can do with what's inside. I'm dying to find out." he smiled. Why shouldn't he say such a thing. So many had already given their lives for this little curiosity. Dilandau couldn't let rest until he found out what it was all about.

The Nahreim gathered went forth into the tomb, stepping over the bloody bodies of the men who had gone before. Dilandau followed behind, still apprehensive, thinking that there had to be another trap tucked away somewhere. If he was going to die, it wasn't going to be by some stupid booby-trap. He drew his swords just in case.

Inside the tomb was equally dark as the tunnel, but the one worker left quickly remedied that, lighting the wall torches carefully. He was afraid he would die as well and join all of his comrades.

The tomb itself wasn't anything to get excited about. The walls were grey, looking to have been carved directly from the mountain rock. There were murals and more writing scrawled all over these smooth walls. For some reason this annoyed Dilandau, he didn't know why though.

In the middle of the overall plain room was the real treasure. It was a large rectangular sarcophagus made entirely out of gold by the looks of it. It was embedded with diamonds, agate and most importantly of all emeralds. All stones used to ward one against evil; emeralds especially against witches and harmful magic. Dilandau laughed at the fact that he had remembered all this. He could almost hear his mother's voice trying to teach him these important lessons, but all he wanted was to torment the dog. That wasn't long before she had been killed. When the city had been burned to the ground and he had been forced to fend for himself. He gritted his teeth painfully to force the memory back into the void where it belonged.

The leader of the small group, the same old and extremely dirty looking man from before, took something from around his neck. It was an amulet of some kind. He looked at it carefully. It was the symbol of the moon with on eye in the center, completely made of silver with what looked like a large bloodstone as the iris of the eye.

"The amulet of Ja'kess, the God of the Underworld, to wake you my Goddess." he spoke softly. He then took the amulet and placed it on the lid of the sarcophagus, where there was apparently an appointed place for it. When the bobble was in place, the monk stood back. What happened next amazed even Dilandau.

The bloodstone iris glowed a sickly red and the gold lid of the coffin began to melt away, the amulet falling into the stone casket. Despite his better judgement, which he never paid attention to to begin with, Dilandau stepped closer to see what would happen.

Inside, there was a shriveled and long ago decayed pile of what used to be the makings of a human like creature. There was a basic form, but nothing distinct. Then slowly, the lifeless form of bones and putrid flaking flesh began to reform itself as the amulet worked itself around the broken neck vertebrae. Nature was being forced to reverse its effects. The skin came back, pink and soft, as did the hair which was nearly blood red. The skull began to take shape again, as did the facial features; the eyelids, high cheekbones and the full lips. What kept Dilandau from screaming in horror and replaced this with a smile, was the fact that this newly formed body was reborn the way anyone was. Completely and utterly naked all but for the amulet around its neck.

Dilandau was making mental notes of every part of this woman's body when suddenly it drew in breathe. The chest heaving as the torso forced itself to sit up. The eyes flew open.

The figure just sat upright like this for several moments before she started to look around at her surroundings wildly.

"Wheishre atem I'it!" she demanded as she tried to stand up, failing. She decided it better to just kneel. Oh no, not more of this babble, Dilandau thought.

"What the hell is she saying." he hissed at the lead monk.

"She sad 'Where am I', Lord Dilandau."

"Well do something." he whined, not liking the fact that he couldn't understand a damn word of this dead language. The monk nodded and stepped towards the newly resurrected woman.

"Freish'si'ishate, yteoivute hateveish beishen reishatewatekeishneishd."

The woman looked at him curiously, but nodded, meaning that she understood. The monk then grabbed the youngest of those assembled, a man of maybe thirty, and pulled him towards her. He was thrown towards to woman.

"Throivuish'gh hi'ishm yteoivute wi'ishll beish broivuish'ght uishndeishrstatendi'ishng." Again she nodded.

She looked down at the man, who had righted himself, though he was shaking, his head was bowed. She reached a hand out to him and lifted his chin up. She looked into his eyes and smiled. This seemed to calm the man. She pulled him closer to her by this small physical contact under his chin. Again she smiled, then she leaned in and kissed him. To Dilandau this seemed a hilarious thing. A millennia years old woman just resurrected and the first ting she does is want to have it out with a man. But this turned out not to be the case. Soon the man began to convulse uncontrollably, the woman's hands holding his head to hers while her mouth was latched onto his. His eyes were wide open in utter and primal fear. What was she doing to him?

Suddenly she let go of him and he fell to the floor with a sickening thud. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Was that blood at the corner of her mouth? Then she looked directly at Dilandau. He froze, not being able to think at all. He saw nothing but her eyes. Eyes that were as red as her hair - redder than his own - and seemed to flicker with a fire all their own.

"You. Dilandau Albatou. You will be my General. Rally a great army for me so that it will enable us to conquer Gaea."

He couldn't move. He was in shock. And for once in his life, he couldn't think about the coming carnage he would be the leader of, but of the poor soul who was on the floor.

"Do not concern yourself with him. He is now only a brainless shell. Worthless."

Somehow these words comforted him and he returned to his normal frame of mind. He smiled at the thought of being the leader of an army. Just like in the days of the Black Dragon. This would be fun. This woman smiled, as if she had heard his thoughts.

"Yes. Many will suffer for my cause. For I am Fresia, Goddess Sorceress of Gaea."

The Nahreim all fell to their knees before her.