IV - Burning Questions
As the sands shifted, Nyx is trapped within a crumbling mausoleum. Yet she soon finds out that her prison is not what it seems...
As she came to her senses, Nyx felt the sharp pain of hunger in her stomach. Thirst. Fatigue. A headache. Something uncomfortable tied around her neck. The cold stone of the floor beneath her.
Wait, how can I feel the floor like this? Am I not wearing my robe anymore?
She tried to move her arms, but they were tied together. So were her legs.
Struggling, she managed to get to her knees. As her eyes started to adjust to the darkness, she began to make out a roughly square room, a torch, a door...
A dungeon cell?
An amulet hung around her neck on a gold wire.
A magic seal. Oh no...
No wonder she felt so hollow. The amulet disrupted the flow of magical energies around her. Nyx felt as if she was deaf without her ability to sense the energy around her. There would be no magicking her way out of this one.
Nyx began to take stock of her situation. She had been stripped of her travel cloak, her bag, her jewellery... She was left only in her sandals, her undergarments, and her traditional Nohrian mage's cape.
But why? Where?
No sooner had she asked than her question was answered.
Two men burst through the door, finely dressed in what appeared to be ceremonial military uniforms, with a golden bird, wings spread wide, proudly displayed across the fronts of their cloaks. One pushed her to the ground and held her there, while the other wrapped a blindfold around her eyes, then a gag around her mouth.
They lifted her up roughly, one holding each arm, and dragged her out of the cell. Down a hallway. Several straights and turns later, they pulled her up staircase, paying no regard to her feet painfully dragging on the steps. Through a door. Another hallway, another door.
Then, she felt fresh air on her skin, hot and dry, but invigorating nonetheless.
Outside.
She was dragged forward and down a flight of stairs, before finally being set down on her knees on another rough stone floor.
She could hear distant whispers, voices in an unknown but familiar language.
Another voice arose, this one louder, closer, clear and powerful. A few commanding shouts, and she heard a roar, as if from a crowd.
The dominant voice barked a few commands. The guards grabbed her arms, raised them over her head, and pulled her into an upright position. A gloved hand shoved her backwards against a hard object, her back against it, her feet on some sort of carpet. She felt a metal chain being tied around her wrists. Then, another chain, tying her legs to the object behind her.
A few more orders, and then the blindfold was untied...
The bright sunlight stunned her. Clear blue skies. Buildings. Endless dunes of sand. Still disoriented, she began to put things together. Moving her head from side to side as she looked around, she finally understood her situation. She was high up on the balcony of the gigantic temple pyramid at the end of the desert city's main avenue. Straight ahead in the distance, she could see the majestic statue of the bird-man that brought her so much trouble, its back facing her, one arm still amputated. Below the balcony there was a massive crowd, stretching far into the street. A tumult of voices, whispering, roaring, cheering.
She was chained to a cold, golden statue depicting a bird with its wings spread wide, not unlike the one she could see in the distance. Below her feet was a carpet, the area around the statue covered with bundles of rags and sticks, greasy, wet, unpleasant.
A life for an artificial arm, it seems.
On either side of her stood a decorated guard. Further on the edges of the balcony, there were several more, standing upright, flawless posture, at attention.
Ahead of her stood a man in an exquisite cream robe, again with golden wings embroidered across the chest. The man was clearly someone of great import, being adorned in such finely decorated silks. He was opening one of a few books lying on a table. Flipping through a few pages, he finally turned to Nyx, observed her, then turned to the crowd.
The birds, the statues, it all makes sense now.
His arms spread open, resembling the unfolded wings of the bird statues, he addressed the crowd in their native tongue. Nyx only understood a couple words she had learned in her studies: foreigner, mage, curse. When the man finished his speech, the crowd roared.
Some sort of high priest, is he?
The arbiter then slowly turned toward her, a menacing glare in his eyes. His face was rough and wrinkled, even though he did not appear to be very old. He shouted a recitation at her in the unfamiliar tongue, pointing accusingly. The crowd roaring every time he took a dramatic pause, with the loudest roar after he finished.
For a moment, their eyes locked. His were dark, cold, as if they were of a man possessed.
He then spoke to her in the common language, this time in a lower voice, having already satisfied the crowd.
"Child of the Fallen, you who bear the marks of the first curse, you who bring plague and disaster to us, you who spread corruption and pestilence among the righteous. The evidence is clear. The gods themselves testify against you. They bring down their fist to smite you, wicked and wretched being. Their sacred herons saw everything. Their avatar himself renders judgement against you."
What is he babbling on about. What evidence?
Birds, avatars, what is this nonsense... Ah, this is about that statue, isn't it.
"You have sinned. You bear the marks of guilt on your face. Your wrongdoing has been noticed, and made plain for all to see," he continued. From his manner of speaking, Nyx presumed he was repeating to her the same speech he gave to crowd, but in the common tongue now, for her understanding.
It all became clear.
The cursed marks on my face... Is that why they would not speak to me? Is that why they hate me?
They aren't wrong... It is my own fault that I bear this curse.
"What have you to say in your defence?" demanded the arbiter, gesturing to the side.
One of the guards came over and ripped off the cloth tied around her mouth.
Ah, this is all meant to be some mockery of a trial. It doesn't matter what I say, they will condemn me anyway. The crowd didn't come here to see a prisoner walk free. They came here to see their twisted version of justice rendered.
Thinking for a moment, she spoke. "The statue wasn't me, it was your bird. I have not done anything to your people."
"You dare insult the sacred birds of the gods?" lashed out the arbiter. "They see through your facade, your disguise in the form of a child! The gods themselves brought down the avatar's arm, to warn us of your treachery!"
This is hopeless. They've made up their minds the moment they saw me.
"I did nothing to your people, nor did I have any plans to. I merely came here to investigate the tomb of the pharaoh Menes'Abydos."
A curious expression appeared on the man's face, but it soon faded. "The truth is written on your face. The Mark of the Original Fall is proof of your ways. You deserve to be removed from the world, your heretic ways to be purified through fire. You have tried to escape, but the sands of the desert have brought you back to us. The land itself speaks out against you."
Her arms were tied, her magic was sealed. Defeated, Nyx thought to ask one last question, to see if this journey was all in vain.
"Tell me this, at least. The tomb of Menes'Abydos. The hourglass of legend. Is it true? Is it really there, beyond the prismatic seal?"
Her judge was taken aback. He took a few steps closer to her, until he was close enough to reach her.
"How do you know of the seal?" he demanded.
"I've been there. I passed through it."
The arbiter was stunned. His eyes widened. He paused for a moment, stroked the rough little beard on his chin, then spoke. For the first time, a hint of apprehension appeared in his voice.
"I have been trying to find the tomb for decades! Once, long ago, I was fortunate enough to set foot inside, but I could not get past the seal. I had to admit defeat. I spent years of my life trying to figure out its secret. When I thought I did, when I returned to claim my prize, the sands had shifted again, the tomb was there no longer."
He mused for a moment, then lashed out again.
"To think that a heretic witch like you could not only find the tomb, but solve its riddle? Preposterous!"
Another moment's reflection, another dreadful silence.
"Tell me where, tell me how, and I will... let you go," he offered.
Aha! So there is a way out. This man is clearly obsessed with the hourglass. I can see it in his eyes. He desires it as if it were his life's goal.
"I can take you to it," she responded.
She knew she couldn't, but it was worth a shot.
The man paced about in front of her, brow furrowed, occasionally rubbing his chin, clearly in thought. He stopped a few times, as if he was going to speak to her, then continued pacing.
He's tempted.
Finally, he approached her again.
"I don't know how you could possibly have known about the seal. It is not written of in any text. No one has entered the inner chamber for thousands of years. I only know of it because I was the first. I have seen it with my own eyes. Yet speak as if you had accessed it yourself..."
I've got him.
The arbiter reflected for another moment.
"No... You deceive me. You were found lying in the sands. There was no sign of the tomb in the area. You cannot have found it on your own. He would not have called you to it. I do not know how you got this knowledge, but I will not fall to your temptation!"
He waved to the guards. They came over to Nyx, and one wrapped the gag around her mouth again. The other made sure the chains were secure.
No... I was so close...
The magister stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, proclaiming a frenzied litany to crowd, who exploded in a bloodthirsty roar. He picked up a book from the table, the one he opened earlier, and recited a few words to the masses gathered in front of him. Their chanting grew louder.
He then turned around, and holding the book, he spoke a few lines in a still more ancient language that Nyx had never heard before. He lifted his hand to the sky, and a bright light descended upon Nyx.
The light took the shape of a majestic bird, again like the statue she was tied to. The crowd fell silent in response to the light, which faded just as quickly as it had appeared. To the gathered people, it was a heavenly blessing, meant to sanctify her before the oncoming ordeal. To Nyx, it was just a fancy light trick, nothing more.
The magister closed the book, went to the table, and retrieved the second tome, bound in blazing red. This one Nyx recognized.
An Elfire tome. So that's what it's going to be...
In a booming voice, the magister shouted, "You who bear the Mark of the Original Fallen. You who walk the way of the Heretic. You who defile the footsteps of the gods. May the fire cleanse and purify you!"
Nyx struggled against the chains, but could do nothing.
With her mind and soul she grasped for a breath of magical energy, but she could reach nothing, thanks to the seal around her neck.
A few more words in the ancient language, and he began to cast the spell, making the appropriate gestures to channel the energies.
Nyx couldn't help but notice the poor spellcasting form, and was strangely bothered by it, even though it was meant to be the instrument of her demise.
An odd thought to have at such a moment. But the moment faded, and Nyx was enveloped by a sudden despair.
He's not completely wrong. I have sinned. I have caused so much pain and suffering. I am cursed. I suppose I deserve this after all.
I... I just... wish I had done more to set things right. To undo what I have done.
A single tear streamed down Nyx's face, as she admitted defeat.
The arbiter finished the incantation. A bolt of fire roared from his hand.
Nyx tried to repel the spell. She put her entire strength, her entire soul into trying to ward it off. But it was not enough. The fireball exploded around her. She managed to withstand the initial blast, in part due to the magic seal around her neck. But the fiery explosion had lit the rags and sticks under her feet, and the fire soon reached her.
The flames quickly engulfed her. She would have screamed if she could, but her mouth was tied shut. Pain beyond what was possible. Agony. Burning.
The light of day was fading. The distant sun was descending into a fiery orange sunset.
The long dark night arrived. Everything faded from view. Pitch black. Darkness. Nothingness...