Ico
I : Entombment
Sweet whispers of wind blew through the trees, causing shadows to play on the well-walked path. Morning sun danced through the heavens behind wisps of clouds, and birds sung the greeting to new morning's dawn. Streams gurgled gently while curving 'cross the landscape, hugging bare rocks, providing passage for golden fish. The silence was broken by the sound of heavy breathing; hooves patted the ground in rhythm to match that of feet.
Armored men in the finest of garb cascade down a hill; fully armed, led by the priest, they looked to be heading for the next conquest. But no, this task was much more simple, merely explained by the one odd face in the group.
With a look of confusion on his face, and nearly drowning in the arms of the rider behind him, the child was as disoriented as he could be; just a day before he had been with his family, doing the usual things he did day to day. Now he was being jostled and jolted, carted off in some unknown direction in silence. With not a word (as he was told never to speak, the poor lad,) he allowed them to take him, take him off into the unknown.
Reaching open path, the sun now seems to burn down ferociously, causing thin sweat to bead on each member's skin. The knights, well trained, never bother, of course, and the priest keeps his mind set on the path. With bound little hands, the boy wipes his forehead clear; accidentally tapping a horn against the knight's armor, he moves his head and keeps still.
The party continued until the ocean spread wide, seagulls calling to the people below. Ahead, a monstrous island comes into sight, with waves angrily lapping at its shores. Consisting of solid rock, the island rose from the sea in defiance of nature, complete with a massive castle. The doors stood wide open, as if welcoming the group.
"This is where...?" An incomplete thought raced through the child's head.
With a start, he found himself lifted through the air and promptly carried to a boat. For a minute, this caused confusion; with another glance at the castle, though, he noticed the bridge had long since fallen apart. After all who were coming were loaded, they set off in the awkward boat.
The huge castle stood, almost reaching to the heavens. The stonework was a bright, sandy yellow, looking worn yet stable at the same time. The main castle consisted of many levels and rooms, as it seemed, with two towers across the sides. Everyone who saw it would temporarily loose their breath, and they would soon realize how small they were compared to the world. The challenge it presented (for it was mounted upon stone several hundred miles high, and took up every little inch it could on the island surface) could inspire the least hopeful; spanning four islands, the stonework must have been made for a great lord... Though one wondered how such a thing was build, none ever bothered to question it upon seeing the structure.
The boat was paddled across the angry waters to the farthest point away from the shore, where it was secured; again the boy was lifted and carried, until he was placed on the ground and given a good shove. Just offshore, huge pillars anchored to the seabed greeted them, and they continued with them, up into the cavern ahead. Walking up the slippery path, the boy glanced upwards and saw the castle disappear behind the ridge above him; neglecting care, the buildings, up close, proved that they were old (and probably rather unsafe, so he thought) and that this place wasn't where many visited. Soon his curiousity fired up – they were directly beneath the castle, in the island itself! Somebody had hollowed out the core, leaving a labrynth-like maze to fill it. Almost bumping into the armed man ahead of him, the boy found the party had stopped.
"Get the sword." A man, with a demonic looking mask, spoke harshly to another. He had the appearance of an executioner, another thing that quickly triggered the child's imagination. The ghastly man soon took off in one direction, the commanded knight heading off in another. The boy was pushed to follow the masked man.
"Sword?" The child's mind raced in silence, "Why do they need a sword? Mama told me this was a vacation- you don't need WEAPONS on vacation... do you?"
Being led through cold, whistling halls until his feet were about to fall apart, the little boy was slowly coming to realize a very simple fact- he wasn't here on vacation, or, at least, a pleasant one. Finally they came to a much-needed halt before two grimy statues.
Arousing a startled jump from the boy, the masked man unsheathed his sword before the statues; a quick flash of light played before the stonework, adding another startled jump. The statues then slid apart, revealing a platform in a square shaft.
Staring in wonder, the boy was again given a rough shove into the small room, packed in the center of all parties riding. More and more curious things happened, namely the fact that the floor below them began to move upwards as if being pulled; no cables were seen to be pulling them, which made the child wonder if something was pushing them up.
The ride ended in a dark, ominous, rounded chamber, fashioned not unlike a great arena. On each raised ledge, great caskets of stone, embellished with pictographs of words forgotten in time, stood deathly silent. Only one was open- and that one was reserved for the very special guest.
Realizing what was happening, the boy turned to flee- caught up by strong arms, he began to scream loudly and fight. The men, very able to overpower the child, marched over to the casket and flung him in. Still screaming protests, he could barely make out their good-byes.
"Farewell, demon, enjoy your sleep." One of the voices called.
"This is for your own good." The priest almost seemed to be grinning.
Then the lid was closed, muffling out the screaming to a mere whisper.
Feet left, echoing across the bare walls, and the light of the single torch in the room was taken out. The elevator left, not to return for another fifty years.
Inside the casket, the boy continued to wail, pounding his bound hands against the cold stone. Hitting and hitting seemed to do no good, but he was determined to fight until his last- he lurched forward when he felt the casket lean forward.
Outside, the rock base below the object was crumbling into dust, allowing the casket to lean forward. Again inside, he began to throw his weight against the door, feeling it slide from it's placement for every shove. Again and again, he combated the stonework, until finally it seemed to hang in the air.
Falling forward, propelled by gravity and the will to live, the casket hit the ground and burst into pieces, the stone flying across the floor. Underneath a large slab, Ico, the young, frightened boy, lied unconscious against the cold floors.