Chapter VII : Home Again, Home Again...
It was lucky for him that the rain had kept a good portion of the mortals inside. What ignorant person would come out on a day like this? It was Sunday evening, and any self-respecting human would be inside, spending time with the one they love.
At any rate, Anubis was counting his blessings. He'd sustained some heavy damage after his fall to the cement below. He hadn't splattered, or else he'd be in real trouble.
Now forced to crawl to his haven, Anubis left more of himself behind, dragging himself forward with his arms. It would take a few more moments of regeneration until he would be able to walk.
It was eight blocks. Eight long blocks to his resting place. The very spot from where he had risen, with new a new master and new orders. The cemetary in where he had been laid to rest. But that hadn't lasted long.
Finally... finally he was able to stand. Now no longer forced to crawl like an animal on his belly, the former Ogre pushed himself up, unstable for a few seconds.
His body was a mess. There were large rotting gaps in his flesh, where the muscle and skin had yet to close. But there was no blood as of yet.
Exhausted, the scarlet-haired warrior trudged forward, soaked by the rain. Why had this happened to him? Why couldn't he just rest peacefully in the afterlife, not tormented by the past?
It was because of *THEM*. Because of all of them. Every last pathetic one of them. Why had he been chosen? He was no mystic, no provider of wisdom! He was a warrior! Why had the Ancient done this to him?
He had been given his destiny, without knowing what it would get him. He accepted the staff, and for the first time in his life, had felt that this what he was supposed to do. Enlighten, guide, and serve the ultimate power. But in his learnings, his constant meditation, he heard it. The hushed whispers of his fate.
The whispers had become a scream when the staff refused to strike Kayura that fateful day. It was an unholy litany, stabbing his mind like a thousand white-hot dagges.
'You will die, you will die, you will die, you will die, you will DIE!'
That was when he knew. He knew that he was not the Ancient's Chosen One. He was just some poor fool, sucked into yet another plot. Once again, he was a pawn. He was there to hold the staff, until Kayura could be woken from Talpa's spell. When that was over, so was his life.
When he had fallen into that murky river, he felt the life ebbing from him. The water was cold and uncaring, as he inhaled breath after breath. Only it wasn't air, it was water, filling his lungs, slowly drowning him, as he had not the strength to save himself.
His body wasn't even cold yet, when a new voice began to whisper to him. This time, it promised him his chance for revenge. Something happened, and he agreed to this deal. It was true, he had been reborn as the Chosen One, made pure, born again. But those last moments of his life, when THEY let him die, let him drown in that brown muck, he had sealed his fate.
The hatred he felt for them, for Kayura, for the very gods themselves, who had damned him to such an existence, it prevented him from eternal bliss. That was when the very root of evil itself had told him of this opportunity.
Kill those who killed you. I give you this gift, fearsome warrior. Rise and take your revenge.
This is what it had earned him. But enough of this. He stopped at the corner, the cemetary a block away. The rains had returned, only this time it was a light drizzle. It flowed into the gaps in his chest and shoulders, coursing through him. It left from a large rotting gap in each calf. By the time it had finished this journey, it was no longer clean. It was crimson, carrying away any traces of doubt or remorse with it.
Staggering to the wrought iron fence that enclosed the peremiter of the cemetary, he pulled himself over it, leaving a few tags of his flesh clinging to the rough, peeling metal. Now he began the second leg of his journey. Trekking through this slop, to his grave.
It seemed like another hour, as he kicked his way through the mud, to the headstone that bore his name. It was in the far right hand corner, on the eastern side of the cemetary. When he reached the disturbed resting place, the earth overturned from his violent exit, he fell to his knees, preparing for a rejuvenating sleep.
That was when, at the foot of his bed, a whirlwind started, picking up clods of earth, leaves, sticks, and whatever matter it could get ahold of. Anubis froze. It was his master.
The golem, now 7 feet in height, stood before him. One eye was red, the only sign of life in the figure. Anubis scuttled forward, on his right knee. His left arm was straight, pressed kuckle-first into the mud. The right arm was resting on his bent right knee.
"My loyal servant." the voice came from nowhere.
"Master." He kept his head bowed.
"You have failed."
Anubis winced. Those words still gnawed at his brain, from days gone by. "It was a mere setback, m'lord. I underestimated the Ronins."
"No. It is not your fault. It is mine entirely."
He looked up at the red eye of the golem, speechless. "My Leige?"
"Your strength and immortality are not enough against the urchins. I was a fool to think that you could handle them alone."
"Yes, m'lord." the solace of the grave was calling him, and it was hard to concentrate.
"I know that you are tired. Your battle with the Serpent has taken its toll on your undead body. However, there is something I must tell you."
Anubis lifted his head, focusing his eyes. Beside the golem, a strange peice of black glass hovered. "What is it you wish of me, Master?"
"This is your next victim, Anubis. I have looked deep into his heart, and found that he was in love with the woman you took. Use this against him. His feelings cloud his heart." In the glass, a shaky image of Cale appeared.
Anubis smiled. A blur of steel shot forward, a dagger spiking into Cale's forehead. The glass and blade shattered into a rain of mud.
"I also wish to give you this. It will be yours once again." The red orb in his eye floated free of the body, the glow increasing, the crimson tinge lighting Anubis' face with its fire. "Rise up, and become the Ogre once more."
The eerie grin that formed on Anubis' lips spread into a manic smile. "Thank you, my Master."
It was lucky for him that the rain had kept a good portion of the mortals inside. What ignorant person would come out on a day like this? It was Sunday evening, and any self-respecting human would be inside, spending time with the one they love.
At any rate, Anubis was counting his blessings. He'd sustained some heavy damage after his fall to the cement below. He hadn't splattered, or else he'd be in real trouble.
Now forced to crawl to his haven, Anubis left more of himself behind, dragging himself forward with his arms. It would take a few more moments of regeneration until he would be able to walk.
It was eight blocks. Eight long blocks to his resting place. The very spot from where he had risen, with new a new master and new orders. The cemetary in where he had been laid to rest. But that hadn't lasted long.
Finally... finally he was able to stand. Now no longer forced to crawl like an animal on his belly, the former Ogre pushed himself up, unstable for a few seconds.
His body was a mess. There were large rotting gaps in his flesh, where the muscle and skin had yet to close. But there was no blood as of yet.
Exhausted, the scarlet-haired warrior trudged forward, soaked by the rain. Why had this happened to him? Why couldn't he just rest peacefully in the afterlife, not tormented by the past?
It was because of *THEM*. Because of all of them. Every last pathetic one of them. Why had he been chosen? He was no mystic, no provider of wisdom! He was a warrior! Why had the Ancient done this to him?
He had been given his destiny, without knowing what it would get him. He accepted the staff, and for the first time in his life, had felt that this what he was supposed to do. Enlighten, guide, and serve the ultimate power. But in his learnings, his constant meditation, he heard it. The hushed whispers of his fate.
The whispers had become a scream when the staff refused to strike Kayura that fateful day. It was an unholy litany, stabbing his mind like a thousand white-hot dagges.
'You will die, you will die, you will die, you will die, you will DIE!'
That was when he knew. He knew that he was not the Ancient's Chosen One. He was just some poor fool, sucked into yet another plot. Once again, he was a pawn. He was there to hold the staff, until Kayura could be woken from Talpa's spell. When that was over, so was his life.
When he had fallen into that murky river, he felt the life ebbing from him. The water was cold and uncaring, as he inhaled breath after breath. Only it wasn't air, it was water, filling his lungs, slowly drowning him, as he had not the strength to save himself.
His body wasn't even cold yet, when a new voice began to whisper to him. This time, it promised him his chance for revenge. Something happened, and he agreed to this deal. It was true, he had been reborn as the Chosen One, made pure, born again. But those last moments of his life, when THEY let him die, let him drown in that brown muck, he had sealed his fate.
The hatred he felt for them, for Kayura, for the very gods themselves, who had damned him to such an existence, it prevented him from eternal bliss. That was when the very root of evil itself had told him of this opportunity.
Kill those who killed you. I give you this gift, fearsome warrior. Rise and take your revenge.
This is what it had earned him. But enough of this. He stopped at the corner, the cemetary a block away. The rains had returned, only this time it was a light drizzle. It flowed into the gaps in his chest and shoulders, coursing through him. It left from a large rotting gap in each calf. By the time it had finished this journey, it was no longer clean. It was crimson, carrying away any traces of doubt or remorse with it.
Staggering to the wrought iron fence that enclosed the peremiter of the cemetary, he pulled himself over it, leaving a few tags of his flesh clinging to the rough, peeling metal. Now he began the second leg of his journey. Trekking through this slop, to his grave.
It seemed like another hour, as he kicked his way through the mud, to the headstone that bore his name. It was in the far right hand corner, on the eastern side of the cemetary. When he reached the disturbed resting place, the earth overturned from his violent exit, he fell to his knees, preparing for a rejuvenating sleep.
That was when, at the foot of his bed, a whirlwind started, picking up clods of earth, leaves, sticks, and whatever matter it could get ahold of. Anubis froze. It was his master.
The golem, now 7 feet in height, stood before him. One eye was red, the only sign of life in the figure. Anubis scuttled forward, on his right knee. His left arm was straight, pressed kuckle-first into the mud. The right arm was resting on his bent right knee.
"My loyal servant." the voice came from nowhere.
"Master." He kept his head bowed.
"You have failed."
Anubis winced. Those words still gnawed at his brain, from days gone by. "It was a mere setback, m'lord. I underestimated the Ronins."
"No. It is not your fault. It is mine entirely."
He looked up at the red eye of the golem, speechless. "My Leige?"
"Your strength and immortality are not enough against the urchins. I was a fool to think that you could handle them alone."
"Yes, m'lord." the solace of the grave was calling him, and it was hard to concentrate.
"I know that you are tired. Your battle with the Serpent has taken its toll on your undead body. However, there is something I must tell you."
Anubis lifted his head, focusing his eyes. Beside the golem, a strange peice of black glass hovered. "What is it you wish of me, Master?"
"This is your next victim, Anubis. I have looked deep into his heart, and found that he was in love with the woman you took. Use this against him. His feelings cloud his heart." In the glass, a shaky image of Cale appeared.
Anubis smiled. A blur of steel shot forward, a dagger spiking into Cale's forehead. The glass and blade shattered into a rain of mud.
"I also wish to give you this. It will be yours once again." The red orb in his eye floated free of the body, the glow increasing, the crimson tinge lighting Anubis' face with its fire. "Rise up, and become the Ogre once more."
The eerie grin that formed on Anubis' lips spread into a manic smile. "Thank you, my Master."