Lara Croft in the Search for Xanadu
By
Neil Stokes
stokesneil@yahoo.es
This story contains some violence and bad language.
Thanks to Eva, Chris and Jess.
Tomb Raider, Lara Croft, her image and likeness are trademark and copyright © of EIDOS Interactive and Core Design. No infringement or challenge to these copyrights is intended.
* * * *
Chapter 13: The Orb of Longing
'"And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise."' Hurt, his eyes closed in contentment, ended his recital of 'Kubla Khan'. Lara, climbing the stairs at his side, hands cuffed behind her back and fingers interlocked with those of Angela, looked at him with contempt, undecided whether his pleasure originated from an appreciation of Coleridge's poem or from a smug enjoyment of his clipped recital. In fact she didn't care and turning her head away she looked down at the girl again. "You OK?" she asked with a smile. Angela smiled back unaware of any danger; she was merely happy to be in Lara's reassuring presence once more. Nodding, the girl squeezed her hand. Lara herself also drew hope from the child's presence; they were still alive, they still had a chance and Lara vowed not to let them down.
"I was saying, my dear," Hurt's voice broke in on her thoughts, "that this whole unfortunate escapade will soon be at an end. Although you needn't worry, you will see how all the pain and effort will be made worthwhile."
"The end doesn't always justify the means, you know." Lara decided to keep Hurt talking, to learn as much as possible.
"Oh, I know," continued Hurt in his smooth voice. "However, it is not the case here."
"Tell me," said Lara, "Smiley was going on about virgin's blood. What the hell was he talking about?"
Hurt threw a sharp glance at her; his expression defensive for a moment until his sense of victory got the better of him. "I'm sure you're not going to like it, but I shall tell you." He cleared his throat while Lara felt a tingle of panic in her entrails. "I have a confession to make," he continued, "I retained certain information from you out of a fear of discouraging your acceptance of this mission. As we shall see, as soon as these infernal stairs come to an end, the Orb is very real and so are its wish-fulfilling properties." Noting Lara's look, he held up a hand to forestall any interruption. "The Dome is here and everything is as it was written, there is no reason why the rest - the instructions on how to awaken the Orb and invoke its powers - should not also be true. Unfortunately that traitorous hound Reed was corrupted by Smiley to whom he passed copies of these essential facts and, inefficient fool that he was, the only document showing the exact location of Xanadu. I admit, that in itself should have provoked my suspicions."
"So you employed me to find Xanadu for you," added Lara.
"Yes, once our conflict of interest became apparent. Although, let me assure you," he went on hurriedly, "the only reason I did not avail myself of your services sooner was that I foresaw certain moral reservations on your part." Hurt patted a folded handkerchief elegantly against his sweating brow as the unending flight of stairs took their toll.
"I imagine that's where the virgin's blood comes into play?" prompted Lara, knowing the answer in advance.
"There is always a price to pay, Lara dear. I'm afraid our little friend here will be picking up the bill." A threatening hiss escaped Lara and Hurt went on: "Forgive my vulgarity of expression but the walls have ears," he said nodding significantly at the girl who was looking elsewhere, unaware of the substance of his words.
"You cannot do that," Lara stated flatly, barely capable of keeping the steel from her voice.
"Of course, I'm hardly looking forward to it but the Orb cannot be woken by any other means. It will be a mercy in any event - no parents, a life of psychological uncertainty, poverty balanced against the privilege of bringing into the world the power to do so much good."
"Good?" spat out Lara.
"Good," affirmed Hurt. "I promise you this: once I have supreme power in my hands I shall use it responsibly to alleviate the woes of mankind. I have no desire to be a hated tyrant."
"What a relief," Lara replied sarcastically. "I thought you were just going to have the time of your life."
"Oh, that too, naturally. And you, Lara," he continued in a quieter, deeper voice, "being such a spirited woman of such impressive," stealing a glance at her chest, "abilities will make the perfect companion."
"I wouldn't bet on it," growled Lara through clenched teeth.
"We shall see, my love. But enough of this pleasant chatter," he said in response to a gesture from one of the mercenaries who, going on ahead, had reached the top of the stairs. "Behold, the Orb of Longing." The soldiers waiting at the entrance to the dais suspended around the neck of the dragon above them parted now that they had reached the top, passing Hurt, the handcuffed Lara and Angela up over the final steps. Unable to contain his excitement Hurt ran ahead, stopping in the centre of the wide marble disc on which they now stood with a look of greed sketched on his features; Lara and Angela were pushed forward by the men until they stood at his side.
"What's going to happen now, Lara?" the girl asked, winding her arms around Lara's thigh while she placed a protective palm on the child's head.
"Don't worry," Lara said, looking down at the girl and smiling, "we're going soon." Indeed, Lara had been waiting for the stairs' end in the hope of an opportunity of escape although looking around the wide dais she saw little to inspire her. The shining roof of the Dome arched far above the free standing dragon; no cables, ledges, ladders or crevices could be seen; the realisation that the stairs were the only way up or down caused her heart to sink. Together, flanked by the mercenaries, they gazed on the Orb; held between the dragon's gaping jaws, its size hardly feasible, it sparkled in the Dome's light with an intensity that caused Lara to lower her sunglasses. On either side of the dragon's head were two enormous jade statues of Mongol warriors in full armour, kneeling and holding out joined palms, like vassals offering their pledge to a king. Hurt, stepping forward, threw up his arms in a dramatic gesture of victory while Lara, who could feel Angela's hugging grip tighten around her leg, looked covetously at the stairs behind them.
Hurt remained in this posture, savouring the moment while his soldiers began their work of preparation. Angela was torn away and Lara found herself roughly forced to a kneeling position by a guard who remained standing behind her, the barrel of his automatic rifle prodding her shoulder. The woman and the girl continued to talk to each other in low voices while the other mercenaries were moving around, leaving the baggage to one side where Lara spotted her rucksack, shotgun and holsters infuriatingly out of reach. One of the men drew a cloth wrapped parcel from a bag and approached Hurt, who accepted it from him, unwrapping it gingerly as if it contained crystal. Ordered to silence by a soldier, Lara kept one eye on Angela who was standing with a mercenary some way off and staring at her with wide questioning eyes. Lara winked at the girl, making her smile, while she secretly fumbled in the back pocket of her shorts, finally withdrawing a hair clip with an orange, plastic butterfly attached. As she carefully inserted the end of the clip into the keyhole of the cuffs, the memory of that happier time in Barcelona oppressed her. The parcel unwrapped, Hurt now turned back to face them: "Let it begin," he intoned dramatically extending one hand towards the child while the other held aloft a long, curved golden knife. His face, pale and waxen, distorted by a twisted smile, frightened Angela more than the knife; she shouted Lara's name, kicking and screaming against the soldier who dragged her towards Hurt while Lara dug and scraped with the clip in the keyhole, bellowing with all her strength: "NO!" In her agitation, shouting and held back by the impassive solider, Lara did not realise her hands were free until she saw the glinting knife raised high above Hurt's head.
Despite the rapid series of events that followed, to Lara everything happened with the dull sound and sluggish action of underwater movement. The knife floating above the squirming girl as the mercenary's neck, forced into an impossible angle by the clamping strength of Lara's thighs, finally snapped. The knife beginning its gradual descent as another soldier, distracted from the sacrifice, shot at Lara but only succeeded in pumping a stream of bullets into the body of his dead companion while she was diving in Hurt's direction. The knife falling faster as one of the other soldiers charged at Lara, now preparing to leap cat like onto Hurt. Her feet had barely left the ground when the man, hugging her calves, brought her to the ground in a perfect tackle. The knife slashed sideways and swept across the girl's throat, releasing a brief fountain of blood that Hurt directed over the surface of the Orb, bathing the diamond and obscuring its beauty. The girl's body shuddered in spasm as her life drained away, a strangled gurgle of escaping breath the only sound as Lara and the soldiers, stunned into silence, watched Hurt unlock the powers of the Orb. Letting the child's twitching body fall to the ground, he took a step forward, bending over the diamond and watching with bulging eyes as a small spark of light deep within the stone's core began to slowly intensify.
Lara lay immobile beneath the weight of the soldier, frozen by shock and unable to react; her mouth hung open in a silent scream of desperation, her limbs felt leaden and her mind was locked in a tortuous loop of horror that replayed the scene over and over again. Barely aware of being hauled to her feet and then supported by the mercenary when her limp legs would not hold her up, she stared longingly at Angela's dead body - still now and curled on the floor as if in sleep. Wrenching her gaze away Lara looked up with blank eyes and focussed on Hurt standing beyond the girl and bowed over the Orb. The diamond's internal light was still growing, spreading and silhouetting Hurt, who stood back, arms thrown wide in welcome as he laughed uncontrollably in his delight. Despite her paralysis Lara felt the soldier's grip on her shoulder tighten when the edge of burgeoning light touched the outstretched hands of the two jade statues kneeling on either side and they saw, quite clearly, the fingers twitch.
Lara and the mercenaries looked on in amazement as the statues began to move, rousing themselves from their centuries of slumber with slow, creaking movements. Lost in his victory as he watched the Orb awaken, Hurt was completely unaware of the jade melting like ice from the warriors as they stood, taller than any mortal and with the grey skin of the dead. The soldiers, unsure whether this was part of the ceremony, did nothing as they watched the creatures draw their swords with a fluid, automatic motion. Hearing the unexpected whisper of sliding steel, Hurt turned his look of irritation changing to one of terror as he took in the scene of the now fully awakened warriors towering above him. His men finally reacting to the danger raised their weapons too late as the warriors spun in unison, their long sword blades swishing through the air as they turned to face each other. The first of the automatic rifles began to chatter as Hurt's severed head fell bouncing to the marble floor of the dais, rolled off the edge and was lost in the darkness below. Lara found herself unattended as she watched the huge Mongol warriors, the barrage of gunfire knocking them backwards but drawing no blood, turn towards the three remaining mercenaries.
It was the howling that broke the thrall of misery and fascination that held her: a memory of another time associated with flight and fight, effort and fear, which in that case had led to pride in success - the time of the Scion when she had cut her teeth as a true tomb raider. Now her failure lay before her in the crumpled bloodless body of the child who had trusted her - this prize, far more valuable than any of the other gem encrusted artefacts she had withdrawn from dark dangerous dungeons, she could not take with her. This in a flash of understanding as once more the howling, the war cry of the Mongol warriors, provoked her into movement. Leaping over to where her equipment lay she saw one of the mercenaries, slapping at his jammed rifle, skewered from head to foot, while the other men had finally managed to down the other with their intense storm of gunfire. Lara shouldered her backpack and filled her holsters before turning towards the stairway in a hail of jade rubble as the defeated Mongol warrior splintered. She stopped at the head of the stairs and saw another soldier slain as he reloaded, the remaining mercenary backing across the dais, his gunfire slowing but far from finishing the warrior who steadily followed between the impact of the bullets. As the monstrous figure approached, the mercenary waved his empty rifle before him like a club. The howl of the war cry and the howl of the man's death agony merged and the warrior turned its dead eyes towards the head of the stairs, but Lara Croft was gone.
* * * * *
The grasslands seethed in the stiffening breeze of the approaching night. The sun hovered over the horizon as a gloved hand shot from an unseen crevice and raked at its dusty edge. The dirty fingers dug into the loose earth and flexed, the lean muscles of the forearms tightening as they pulled the figure clear of the hole. The head appeared; auburn hair made grey by dust, the long braid behind tattered and falling apart. Gradually the figure became visible: a shotgun, a scratched leather rucksack, a narrow waist, slim hips supporting a pair of glinting 9mm pistols and brown canvas shorts, torn and spattered with blood. Toned, sweat-streaked legs; a knee sporting a filthy binding; a booted foot claiming purchase on the crumbling edge. Silhouetted against the sky Lara Croft stood unsteadily and watched the flaring sun soak into the land. Day became night and she tumbled to the ground.
Lara felt drained. The journey from the Dome had been a trial of endurance pushing her body to the limits of its capabilities but with the fortunate side effect of distracting her mind from the horror of Angela's loss. Sitting in the darkness while sleep beckoned, she rooted in her rucksack for a flare, unable to attribute her numbness to either physical exhaustion or to the profound depression lurking behind her shock. In the fizzing light she checked herself with the mechanical efficiency of habit, examining the bruises and grazes, and noticing for the first time an oozing gash on her thigh. Turning back to her pack she caught the rumour of a distant howl unwinding from the hole. Upright, a pistol in each fist, she targeted the pit and waited as the howl, a sound she had hoped never to hear again, was repeated. As the spluttering light of the flare began to fade she found herself exposed to an encroaching sea of blackness while the wailing edged closer.
A movement beyond the flare's light and she opened fire, squeezing the triggers until the pistols clicked empty. Tossing them aside she bent and grabbed the shotgun, pumping out volley after volley until the last spent cartridge twirled smoking through the air. The howls turned to screams and Lara lowered the muzzle of the gun, letting out a tense sigh of relief into the new silence.
A huge shadow sprang from the ground, sending the shotgun spinning from her grip as Lara choked for breath, her feet dangling in the air as the last jade warrior throttled her in its grasp. Sensing death seconds away, the grip around her throat tightened while the darkness swamped the spluttering flare and her brain begged for oxygen. As consciousness faded she saw her gloved hand holding a large hunting knife, slashing desperately at the screeching blackness before her. As suddenly as the sun had been extinguished she saw nothing more.
By
Neil Stokes
stokesneil@yahoo.es
This story contains some violence and bad language.
Thanks to Eva, Chris and Jess.
Tomb Raider, Lara Croft, her image and likeness are trademark and copyright © of EIDOS Interactive and Core Design. No infringement or challenge to these copyrights is intended.
* * * *
Chapter 13: The Orb of Longing
'"And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise."' Hurt, his eyes closed in contentment, ended his recital of 'Kubla Khan'. Lara, climbing the stairs at his side, hands cuffed behind her back and fingers interlocked with those of Angela, looked at him with contempt, undecided whether his pleasure originated from an appreciation of Coleridge's poem or from a smug enjoyment of his clipped recital. In fact she didn't care and turning her head away she looked down at the girl again. "You OK?" she asked with a smile. Angela smiled back unaware of any danger; she was merely happy to be in Lara's reassuring presence once more. Nodding, the girl squeezed her hand. Lara herself also drew hope from the child's presence; they were still alive, they still had a chance and Lara vowed not to let them down.
"I was saying, my dear," Hurt's voice broke in on her thoughts, "that this whole unfortunate escapade will soon be at an end. Although you needn't worry, you will see how all the pain and effort will be made worthwhile."
"The end doesn't always justify the means, you know." Lara decided to keep Hurt talking, to learn as much as possible.
"Oh, I know," continued Hurt in his smooth voice. "However, it is not the case here."
"Tell me," said Lara, "Smiley was going on about virgin's blood. What the hell was he talking about?"
Hurt threw a sharp glance at her; his expression defensive for a moment until his sense of victory got the better of him. "I'm sure you're not going to like it, but I shall tell you." He cleared his throat while Lara felt a tingle of panic in her entrails. "I have a confession to make," he continued, "I retained certain information from you out of a fear of discouraging your acceptance of this mission. As we shall see, as soon as these infernal stairs come to an end, the Orb is very real and so are its wish-fulfilling properties." Noting Lara's look, he held up a hand to forestall any interruption. "The Dome is here and everything is as it was written, there is no reason why the rest - the instructions on how to awaken the Orb and invoke its powers - should not also be true. Unfortunately that traitorous hound Reed was corrupted by Smiley to whom he passed copies of these essential facts and, inefficient fool that he was, the only document showing the exact location of Xanadu. I admit, that in itself should have provoked my suspicions."
"So you employed me to find Xanadu for you," added Lara.
"Yes, once our conflict of interest became apparent. Although, let me assure you," he went on hurriedly, "the only reason I did not avail myself of your services sooner was that I foresaw certain moral reservations on your part." Hurt patted a folded handkerchief elegantly against his sweating brow as the unending flight of stairs took their toll.
"I imagine that's where the virgin's blood comes into play?" prompted Lara, knowing the answer in advance.
"There is always a price to pay, Lara dear. I'm afraid our little friend here will be picking up the bill." A threatening hiss escaped Lara and Hurt went on: "Forgive my vulgarity of expression but the walls have ears," he said nodding significantly at the girl who was looking elsewhere, unaware of the substance of his words.
"You cannot do that," Lara stated flatly, barely capable of keeping the steel from her voice.
"Of course, I'm hardly looking forward to it but the Orb cannot be woken by any other means. It will be a mercy in any event - no parents, a life of psychological uncertainty, poverty balanced against the privilege of bringing into the world the power to do so much good."
"Good?" spat out Lara.
"Good," affirmed Hurt. "I promise you this: once I have supreme power in my hands I shall use it responsibly to alleviate the woes of mankind. I have no desire to be a hated tyrant."
"What a relief," Lara replied sarcastically. "I thought you were just going to have the time of your life."
"Oh, that too, naturally. And you, Lara," he continued in a quieter, deeper voice, "being such a spirited woman of such impressive," stealing a glance at her chest, "abilities will make the perfect companion."
"I wouldn't bet on it," growled Lara through clenched teeth.
"We shall see, my love. But enough of this pleasant chatter," he said in response to a gesture from one of the mercenaries who, going on ahead, had reached the top of the stairs. "Behold, the Orb of Longing." The soldiers waiting at the entrance to the dais suspended around the neck of the dragon above them parted now that they had reached the top, passing Hurt, the handcuffed Lara and Angela up over the final steps. Unable to contain his excitement Hurt ran ahead, stopping in the centre of the wide marble disc on which they now stood with a look of greed sketched on his features; Lara and Angela were pushed forward by the men until they stood at his side.
"What's going to happen now, Lara?" the girl asked, winding her arms around Lara's thigh while she placed a protective palm on the child's head.
"Don't worry," Lara said, looking down at the girl and smiling, "we're going soon." Indeed, Lara had been waiting for the stairs' end in the hope of an opportunity of escape although looking around the wide dais she saw little to inspire her. The shining roof of the Dome arched far above the free standing dragon; no cables, ledges, ladders or crevices could be seen; the realisation that the stairs were the only way up or down caused her heart to sink. Together, flanked by the mercenaries, they gazed on the Orb; held between the dragon's gaping jaws, its size hardly feasible, it sparkled in the Dome's light with an intensity that caused Lara to lower her sunglasses. On either side of the dragon's head were two enormous jade statues of Mongol warriors in full armour, kneeling and holding out joined palms, like vassals offering their pledge to a king. Hurt, stepping forward, threw up his arms in a dramatic gesture of victory while Lara, who could feel Angela's hugging grip tighten around her leg, looked covetously at the stairs behind them.
Hurt remained in this posture, savouring the moment while his soldiers began their work of preparation. Angela was torn away and Lara found herself roughly forced to a kneeling position by a guard who remained standing behind her, the barrel of his automatic rifle prodding her shoulder. The woman and the girl continued to talk to each other in low voices while the other mercenaries were moving around, leaving the baggage to one side where Lara spotted her rucksack, shotgun and holsters infuriatingly out of reach. One of the men drew a cloth wrapped parcel from a bag and approached Hurt, who accepted it from him, unwrapping it gingerly as if it contained crystal. Ordered to silence by a soldier, Lara kept one eye on Angela who was standing with a mercenary some way off and staring at her with wide questioning eyes. Lara winked at the girl, making her smile, while she secretly fumbled in the back pocket of her shorts, finally withdrawing a hair clip with an orange, plastic butterfly attached. As she carefully inserted the end of the clip into the keyhole of the cuffs, the memory of that happier time in Barcelona oppressed her. The parcel unwrapped, Hurt now turned back to face them: "Let it begin," he intoned dramatically extending one hand towards the child while the other held aloft a long, curved golden knife. His face, pale and waxen, distorted by a twisted smile, frightened Angela more than the knife; she shouted Lara's name, kicking and screaming against the soldier who dragged her towards Hurt while Lara dug and scraped with the clip in the keyhole, bellowing with all her strength: "NO!" In her agitation, shouting and held back by the impassive solider, Lara did not realise her hands were free until she saw the glinting knife raised high above Hurt's head.
Despite the rapid series of events that followed, to Lara everything happened with the dull sound and sluggish action of underwater movement. The knife floating above the squirming girl as the mercenary's neck, forced into an impossible angle by the clamping strength of Lara's thighs, finally snapped. The knife beginning its gradual descent as another soldier, distracted from the sacrifice, shot at Lara but only succeeded in pumping a stream of bullets into the body of his dead companion while she was diving in Hurt's direction. The knife falling faster as one of the other soldiers charged at Lara, now preparing to leap cat like onto Hurt. Her feet had barely left the ground when the man, hugging her calves, brought her to the ground in a perfect tackle. The knife slashed sideways and swept across the girl's throat, releasing a brief fountain of blood that Hurt directed over the surface of the Orb, bathing the diamond and obscuring its beauty. The girl's body shuddered in spasm as her life drained away, a strangled gurgle of escaping breath the only sound as Lara and the soldiers, stunned into silence, watched Hurt unlock the powers of the Orb. Letting the child's twitching body fall to the ground, he took a step forward, bending over the diamond and watching with bulging eyes as a small spark of light deep within the stone's core began to slowly intensify.
Lara lay immobile beneath the weight of the soldier, frozen by shock and unable to react; her mouth hung open in a silent scream of desperation, her limbs felt leaden and her mind was locked in a tortuous loop of horror that replayed the scene over and over again. Barely aware of being hauled to her feet and then supported by the mercenary when her limp legs would not hold her up, she stared longingly at Angela's dead body - still now and curled on the floor as if in sleep. Wrenching her gaze away Lara looked up with blank eyes and focussed on Hurt standing beyond the girl and bowed over the Orb. The diamond's internal light was still growing, spreading and silhouetting Hurt, who stood back, arms thrown wide in welcome as he laughed uncontrollably in his delight. Despite her paralysis Lara felt the soldier's grip on her shoulder tighten when the edge of burgeoning light touched the outstretched hands of the two jade statues kneeling on either side and they saw, quite clearly, the fingers twitch.
Lara and the mercenaries looked on in amazement as the statues began to move, rousing themselves from their centuries of slumber with slow, creaking movements. Lost in his victory as he watched the Orb awaken, Hurt was completely unaware of the jade melting like ice from the warriors as they stood, taller than any mortal and with the grey skin of the dead. The soldiers, unsure whether this was part of the ceremony, did nothing as they watched the creatures draw their swords with a fluid, automatic motion. Hearing the unexpected whisper of sliding steel, Hurt turned his look of irritation changing to one of terror as he took in the scene of the now fully awakened warriors towering above him. His men finally reacting to the danger raised their weapons too late as the warriors spun in unison, their long sword blades swishing through the air as they turned to face each other. The first of the automatic rifles began to chatter as Hurt's severed head fell bouncing to the marble floor of the dais, rolled off the edge and was lost in the darkness below. Lara found herself unattended as she watched the huge Mongol warriors, the barrage of gunfire knocking them backwards but drawing no blood, turn towards the three remaining mercenaries.
It was the howling that broke the thrall of misery and fascination that held her: a memory of another time associated with flight and fight, effort and fear, which in that case had led to pride in success - the time of the Scion when she had cut her teeth as a true tomb raider. Now her failure lay before her in the crumpled bloodless body of the child who had trusted her - this prize, far more valuable than any of the other gem encrusted artefacts she had withdrawn from dark dangerous dungeons, she could not take with her. This in a flash of understanding as once more the howling, the war cry of the Mongol warriors, provoked her into movement. Leaping over to where her equipment lay she saw one of the mercenaries, slapping at his jammed rifle, skewered from head to foot, while the other men had finally managed to down the other with their intense storm of gunfire. Lara shouldered her backpack and filled her holsters before turning towards the stairway in a hail of jade rubble as the defeated Mongol warrior splintered. She stopped at the head of the stairs and saw another soldier slain as he reloaded, the remaining mercenary backing across the dais, his gunfire slowing but far from finishing the warrior who steadily followed between the impact of the bullets. As the monstrous figure approached, the mercenary waved his empty rifle before him like a club. The howl of the war cry and the howl of the man's death agony merged and the warrior turned its dead eyes towards the head of the stairs, but Lara Croft was gone.
* * * * *
The grasslands seethed in the stiffening breeze of the approaching night. The sun hovered over the horizon as a gloved hand shot from an unseen crevice and raked at its dusty edge. The dirty fingers dug into the loose earth and flexed, the lean muscles of the forearms tightening as they pulled the figure clear of the hole. The head appeared; auburn hair made grey by dust, the long braid behind tattered and falling apart. Gradually the figure became visible: a shotgun, a scratched leather rucksack, a narrow waist, slim hips supporting a pair of glinting 9mm pistols and brown canvas shorts, torn and spattered with blood. Toned, sweat-streaked legs; a knee sporting a filthy binding; a booted foot claiming purchase on the crumbling edge. Silhouetted against the sky Lara Croft stood unsteadily and watched the flaring sun soak into the land. Day became night and she tumbled to the ground.
Lara felt drained. The journey from the Dome had been a trial of endurance pushing her body to the limits of its capabilities but with the fortunate side effect of distracting her mind from the horror of Angela's loss. Sitting in the darkness while sleep beckoned, she rooted in her rucksack for a flare, unable to attribute her numbness to either physical exhaustion or to the profound depression lurking behind her shock. In the fizzing light she checked herself with the mechanical efficiency of habit, examining the bruises and grazes, and noticing for the first time an oozing gash on her thigh. Turning back to her pack she caught the rumour of a distant howl unwinding from the hole. Upright, a pistol in each fist, she targeted the pit and waited as the howl, a sound she had hoped never to hear again, was repeated. As the spluttering light of the flare began to fade she found herself exposed to an encroaching sea of blackness while the wailing edged closer.
A movement beyond the flare's light and she opened fire, squeezing the triggers until the pistols clicked empty. Tossing them aside she bent and grabbed the shotgun, pumping out volley after volley until the last spent cartridge twirled smoking through the air. The howls turned to screams and Lara lowered the muzzle of the gun, letting out a tense sigh of relief into the new silence.
A huge shadow sprang from the ground, sending the shotgun spinning from her grip as Lara choked for breath, her feet dangling in the air as the last jade warrior throttled her in its grasp. Sensing death seconds away, the grip around her throat tightened while the darkness swamped the spluttering flare and her brain begged for oxygen. As consciousness faded she saw her gloved hand holding a large hunting knife, slashing desperately at the screeching blackness before her. As suddenly as the sun had been extinguished she saw nothing more.