I am not making any money with this. I do not own Lara Croft, Tomb Raider
etc.
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and 'Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power'. All other sites email me first to gain permission.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part III: Garden of The Five Towers by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 7
Certain that her journey had come to an end, Lara prepared to be crushed between the sanctuary's stone pillars.
The earthquake stopped. Nothing happened.
Lara stood up, sweat and tears running down her face. Closing her eyes and raising her face upwards, she wasn't sure what god she was thanking.
This all finally had a meaning.
This was what she was meant to do. An insane woman's laugh escaped her lips as she remembered what Buddha had once said.
"What has been built will collapse; And what is up, must come down."
Her laugh echoing in the empty chamber, she opened her eyes.
Along with the location of the Angkorean Iris, another great mystery in the history of archaeology was solved, as Lara's eyes adjusted to the darkness.
A part of the closed sanctum was open, and at the end of a dark hallway shone a dim light.
Daylight.
'So that's how good old Werner von Croy escaped.'
Coughing in relief and using the last drops of strength in her body, she walked to the hallway, lighting a torch. Before the doorway was an inscription.
"Nge jung. Mun ay dtay. Moo-ay dtoh dtrong."
'Give up on fear. It does not hold importance. Alone, go straight ahead.'
Making a mental note to remember the phrase, Lara walked out of the temple, shaking and leaning on the wall.
After the first rays of early sunlight caught her eyes and her boots crushed the last bits of grass, she lost consciousness and collapsed on the ground, cluthing the Holy Iris in her arms. Jean-Yves did not have to wait long. After the earth had shattered as something had collapsed within the temple, Jean noticed a dim light appearing behind a pillar. In a few second someone appeared on the yard. Someone with a long plait of sweaty hair, cluthing a strange artifact. The figure arrived on the yard - and collapsed on the ground.
No question. Lara.
Jean ran to her.
"Lara?"
"Lara, in God's name, answer me!"
Jean turned her around and took away the Iris from her arms, still an archaeologist soul enough to place it carefully on the ground.
She was burning with fever. Her face was bloodshot red, her clothes wet from the perspiration.
"Mon dieu, woman, answer me!"
Realizing the situation, Jean grabbed Lara, the Iris, and started a desperate run to Siem Reap, eight miles north of the temple of Angkor Wat.
Jean-Yves felt as he had been running for a year as he arrived on the hotel yard with his valuable burden. As seconds passed he grew more and more worried of Lara. Her thin frame felt like a ragdoll, and she had not opened her eyes a single time.
Still burning with fever probably forty degrees celsius he knew she had to be cooled down quickly.
The hotel yard was empty. Just the decorative, but post-war destroyed fountain gushed water silently. Making the craziest snap decision of his life Jean-Yves dropped Lara to the fountain, hoping the shock caused by the cold water would wake her up from her fever-arised unconsciousness. Jean took a quick glance at Lara, grabbed the Iris, and ran in to the hotel reception.
"I need a doctor!"
The receptionist, an elderly Cambodian woman, did not seem to understand what he meant.
"Do you speak English?" Jean-Yves more yelled than asked, "Parlez-vous Francais?"
The receptionist spread her hands. She did not understand a word he was saying. Digging out the few words of Cambodian he had learned from Lara's guidebook, he knew he had to try.
"Bpairt? Moon-dti bpairt?"
"D'tay," the woman apologized. No doctors. No hospitals.
"Can I use the phone?" Jean asked, quickly imitating a phone received with his right hand. The woman seemed to understand. She dug up a phone from under the counter and left Jean-Yves alone in the reception. Praying that the lines were functional, Jean looked out of the door. A small crowd had closed in on the fountain. They seemed amused at the sight of a shorts- wearing archaeologist sleeping in a fountain. Jean, however, was not amused - he was scared to the last cell in his body.
"You take good care of Lara, Jean." He remembered his mother's words crystal clear. He knew Lara would never have let him take the order literally, but this was an exception.
The phone lines worked. Dialing a long number he hoped he remembered correctly, he stood nervously and waited for the signal to start. "Residencé DuCarmine. Oui?"
"Get my father on the phone, Alain. Quick."
"Certainement, Monsieur Jean-Yves."
After a short while that felt like forever to Jean, he heard his father's voice on the phone.
"Jean? Please do speak English, your mother is listening on the speakers. How are you doing?"
"I don't have time for this. I have to get her to Bangkok."
"Slow down, Jean. Get who where?"
"I have to get Lara Croft to Bangkok. There are literally no hospitals in this country, I read the book, it says."
"If the matter is medical, you are right. Is she hurt?"
"No, she's been sick ever since we got here."
"Where are you now, Jean?" Monsieur DuCarmine sounded worried.
"I'm in Grand Hotel d'Angkor, Siem Reap," Jean sighed, twisting his thumb as he took continuous glances to the yard.
"Jean- Call me back in a few minutes. I shall see what I can do. Where is Lara Croft right now?"
"She's in the fountain, Papa."
Sudden silence.
"The fountain? Jean, I trust you to keep things up in there. I will try to arrange something."
The phone line closed. Jean ran to the yard and pulled Lara from the fountain. With her clothes dry she had weighed literally nothing, but with completely wet clothes she weighed like a stone. Arm muscles cramping, Jean carried her to his bed, reasoning the wet clothes to keep her cool, and ran back to the reception.
He picked up the phone and redialled the number.
"Jean?" his father answered.
"Oui? Did you succeed?" Jean asked without hesitation.
"I reached an old army colleague in Bangkok. He has arranged a helicopter flight to Siem Reap in two hours. They can only carry one. I assume you can get to Bangkok some other way if they take her today?"
"Certainement, Papa. Merci," Jean yelled to the phone and left the reception to check on Lara. She was still sleeping, or otherwise, Jean wasn't sure what she'd call her feverish slumber. She didn't feel so hot anymore. At least, she did not feel burning. Jean sat next to her on the bed.
"You did it, Lara. The Iris is yours," he whispered, uncertain if he could even imagine such determination or perseverance. Th only thing he was certain of was that there was no-one he admired more than Lara Croft.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
As always, comments and reviews would be much appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
siirma6@surfeu.fi
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and 'Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power'. All other sites email me first to gain permission.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part III: Garden of The Five Towers by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 7
Certain that her journey had come to an end, Lara prepared to be crushed between the sanctuary's stone pillars.
The earthquake stopped. Nothing happened.
Lara stood up, sweat and tears running down her face. Closing her eyes and raising her face upwards, she wasn't sure what god she was thanking.
This all finally had a meaning.
This was what she was meant to do. An insane woman's laugh escaped her lips as she remembered what Buddha had once said.
"What has been built will collapse; And what is up, must come down."
Her laugh echoing in the empty chamber, she opened her eyes.
Along with the location of the Angkorean Iris, another great mystery in the history of archaeology was solved, as Lara's eyes adjusted to the darkness.
A part of the closed sanctum was open, and at the end of a dark hallway shone a dim light.
Daylight.
'So that's how good old Werner von Croy escaped.'
Coughing in relief and using the last drops of strength in her body, she walked to the hallway, lighting a torch. Before the doorway was an inscription.
"Nge jung. Mun ay dtay. Moo-ay dtoh dtrong."
'Give up on fear. It does not hold importance. Alone, go straight ahead.'
Making a mental note to remember the phrase, Lara walked out of the temple, shaking and leaning on the wall.
After the first rays of early sunlight caught her eyes and her boots crushed the last bits of grass, she lost consciousness and collapsed on the ground, cluthing the Holy Iris in her arms. Jean-Yves did not have to wait long. After the earth had shattered as something had collapsed within the temple, Jean noticed a dim light appearing behind a pillar. In a few second someone appeared on the yard. Someone with a long plait of sweaty hair, cluthing a strange artifact. The figure arrived on the yard - and collapsed on the ground.
No question. Lara.
Jean ran to her.
"Lara?"
"Lara, in God's name, answer me!"
Jean turned her around and took away the Iris from her arms, still an archaeologist soul enough to place it carefully on the ground.
She was burning with fever. Her face was bloodshot red, her clothes wet from the perspiration.
"Mon dieu, woman, answer me!"
Realizing the situation, Jean grabbed Lara, the Iris, and started a desperate run to Siem Reap, eight miles north of the temple of Angkor Wat.
Jean-Yves felt as he had been running for a year as he arrived on the hotel yard with his valuable burden. As seconds passed he grew more and more worried of Lara. Her thin frame felt like a ragdoll, and she had not opened her eyes a single time.
Still burning with fever probably forty degrees celsius he knew she had to be cooled down quickly.
The hotel yard was empty. Just the decorative, but post-war destroyed fountain gushed water silently. Making the craziest snap decision of his life Jean-Yves dropped Lara to the fountain, hoping the shock caused by the cold water would wake her up from her fever-arised unconsciousness. Jean took a quick glance at Lara, grabbed the Iris, and ran in to the hotel reception.
"I need a doctor!"
The receptionist, an elderly Cambodian woman, did not seem to understand what he meant.
"Do you speak English?" Jean-Yves more yelled than asked, "Parlez-vous Francais?"
The receptionist spread her hands. She did not understand a word he was saying. Digging out the few words of Cambodian he had learned from Lara's guidebook, he knew he had to try.
"Bpairt? Moon-dti bpairt?"
"D'tay," the woman apologized. No doctors. No hospitals.
"Can I use the phone?" Jean asked, quickly imitating a phone received with his right hand. The woman seemed to understand. She dug up a phone from under the counter and left Jean-Yves alone in the reception. Praying that the lines were functional, Jean looked out of the door. A small crowd had closed in on the fountain. They seemed amused at the sight of a shorts- wearing archaeologist sleeping in a fountain. Jean, however, was not amused - he was scared to the last cell in his body.
"You take good care of Lara, Jean." He remembered his mother's words crystal clear. He knew Lara would never have let him take the order literally, but this was an exception.
The phone lines worked. Dialing a long number he hoped he remembered correctly, he stood nervously and waited for the signal to start. "Residencé DuCarmine. Oui?"
"Get my father on the phone, Alain. Quick."
"Certainement, Monsieur Jean-Yves."
After a short while that felt like forever to Jean, he heard his father's voice on the phone.
"Jean? Please do speak English, your mother is listening on the speakers. How are you doing?"
"I don't have time for this. I have to get her to Bangkok."
"Slow down, Jean. Get who where?"
"I have to get Lara Croft to Bangkok. There are literally no hospitals in this country, I read the book, it says."
"If the matter is medical, you are right. Is she hurt?"
"No, she's been sick ever since we got here."
"Where are you now, Jean?" Monsieur DuCarmine sounded worried.
"I'm in Grand Hotel d'Angkor, Siem Reap," Jean sighed, twisting his thumb as he took continuous glances to the yard.
"Jean- Call me back in a few minutes. I shall see what I can do. Where is Lara Croft right now?"
"She's in the fountain, Papa."
Sudden silence.
"The fountain? Jean, I trust you to keep things up in there. I will try to arrange something."
The phone line closed. Jean ran to the yard and pulled Lara from the fountain. With her clothes dry she had weighed literally nothing, but with completely wet clothes she weighed like a stone. Arm muscles cramping, Jean carried her to his bed, reasoning the wet clothes to keep her cool, and ran back to the reception.
He picked up the phone and redialled the number.
"Jean?" his father answered.
"Oui? Did you succeed?" Jean asked without hesitation.
"I reached an old army colleague in Bangkok. He has arranged a helicopter flight to Siem Reap in two hours. They can only carry one. I assume you can get to Bangkok some other way if they take her today?"
"Certainement, Papa. Merci," Jean yelled to the phone and left the reception to check on Lara. She was still sleeping, or otherwise, Jean wasn't sure what she'd call her feverish slumber. She didn't feel so hot anymore. At least, she did not feel burning. Jean sat next to her on the bed.
"You did it, Lara. The Iris is yours," he whispered, uncertain if he could even imagine such determination or perseverance. Th only thing he was certain of was that there was no-one he admired more than Lara Croft.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
As always, comments and reviews would be much appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
siirma6@surfeu.fi