Ooooohhhhh Godvari's gonna go nuts when she reads the end of this chapter, I just know it. Hee Hee.
Lady Lara Croft - Hello again! Thanks for reviewing. Kurtis' Lara is many things and I will explain her soon, I promise. :-) All I can tell you is that he sees her because he needs her to get through his time with Harding - she's a bit of a lifeline for him. I'm sappy, aren't I? LOL
Godavari - I have got to stop reading your reviews when I'm at work because me bursting out into spontaneous laughter every week when I'm supposed to be working is starting to get a bit suspicious! This chapter is going to have you pulling your hair out, but it's a set-up for a nice explanation that will make the plot a whole lot clearer in the next chapter. I love your reviews, I really do - thanks!
Linzi - Hello back! Hello from er..well, boring Staffordshire. Doesn't quite beat New Hampshire. Enjoy your time there; I lived in Virginia for a while and adored it. The American Milky Way bars are to die for. Thanks for your detailed review and I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Lara-is-my-rolemodel - Hello, stranger! So good to have you back! I'm really happy that you enjoyed No Man's Land - I had a blast writing it and this one is turning out to be just as fun. LOL - no, Kurtis' insanity isn't treating him well, is it? The guy might just be two fries short of a Happy Meal...
New Revelations
As if spellbound by the scenery, or maybe there was just an unspoken agreement to hold off from the dabbling in the darker arts, Hillary, Lara and Bryce stood quietly for a few moments, saying nothing and staring at the river's choppy waters as they numbly ignored the cold.
A drawn out squeal of tyres grabbed their attention, and all three turned in the direction of the noise, seeing two lurching headlights beating a speedy and weaving path down the road towards them. The car was clearly in trouble, and the reason became clear when, only a second later, a second set of lights appeared from around an invisible corner, equally hasty and barely held under control, chasing down the first. Engines revved as the cars raced and then the rear vehicle suddenly surged forwards, coming alongside the other and then swerving towards it. Lara, Bryce and Hillary started as the headlights of the first car swung towards them, the vehicle swerving away similarly in order to avoid being hit. Apparently losing control as the wheels left the road and found themselves too quickly contending with bumpy turf, it careered towards them, swinging around at the last moment to avoid hitting them even as they dived away, Hillary crying out in alarm. The car, still unidentifiable in the darkness, growled to a halt as the brakes were sharply applied to avoid the river and the tyres bit deeply into the mud, grass flying up into the headlight beams.
In response to the derailed car, its pursuer shrieked to a halt and then revved loudly as it was quickly turned around and brought off-road, baring down uncaringly upon Bryce who cried out in terror even as Lara's quick reactions sent her diving towards him, pulling him out of harm's way and landing them both in a heap on the cold riverbank as the car stopped abruptly between their jeep and the other car.
The occupants of the first car leapt out, a man shouting instructions to run and hide to a girl yelping as she stumbled on the uneven ground. Their voices were instantly recognisable.
"Fishman?" Lara called out, surprised and confused.
Understandably, he ignored her, instead throwing himself behind his jeep, his actions visible in the lights as the preparation of a gun. His reasons were explained when the driver and two passengers in the second car – a small, souped up model – piled out and took positions, opening fire not only on Fishman and Maria, who was crouching behind a bush, but Lara, Bryce and Hillary as well.
Hillary threw himself to the ground and crawled under their jeep whilst Lara took off at a sprint around to the safe side of the vehicle. Bryce, slightly stunned by the whole affair, jolted back to reality and swore loudly as a bullet exploded a tuft of grass by his foot, and he ran to join Lara and Hillary, Lara delving in her bag for weapons to share between them.
The attackers had their backs up against their own vehicle, standing spread out around it and firing offensively without care for cover or pause to reload on the two groups of victims either side of them. Their position allowed them poor shots at the Croft group, whose Jeep was angled away, and no line at all to Fishman. Maria, however, was well within their grasp if only they would realise behind which bush she was hidden.
"Maria!" Gareth called over the din, "Get over here!" He bobbed up to take a few shots at the enemy and glanced back over his shoulder between bullets as he shouted, "Maria! Now!"
Doing as she was told, she scurried over to Gareth, who reached and grabbed her hand as soon as she was in reach, pulling her to the ground and hugging her head to his chest for a moment before letting go and allowing her to crouch next to him. Her movement attracted attention and the passenger window above her head shattered as a bullet made contact, the glass raining down on Maria, who screamed, her whole body shaking as her hands went rigid at each side of her face.
"Here!" Fishman shouted over the noise, and he fumbled to pull a small gun from a leg holster. With shaking hands the girl took the weapon, looking at it with a sort of terror. "Maria," Fishman said forcefully, repeating the word and grabbing her chin to make her look at him when she didn't at first respond, "Maria, you can do this. Stay calm, keep under cover." Letting go of her face, he pushed her lightly to his side and she obediently and meekly moved, crawling into position with one hand clutching onto the door handle as though she was unable to keep herself upright.
Lara, far more experienced in the matters of non-simulated combat, bobbed up and leant her outstretched arms over the bonnet of her car and began firing shot after shot at the shadows that attacked them, squinting with her head drawn down into her shoulders from the noise and the danger. Though it was hard to judge depth properly against the glaring car headlights in the dark night sky, her aim apparently ran true as a cry of pain rang out amid the gunfire and one of the silhouetted attackers facing her position fell awkwardly to the ground, clutching his thigh.
Hillary took a different approach, easily shooting out the car window behind another opponent that was concentrating his efforts on Fishman and Maria, the shattering glass sending him dropping to the ground with his hands covering his head.
Maria and Fishman were still firing but when the short loss of two of the men thanks to Lara and Hillary provided them with an opening, Gareth shouted to Maria to cover for him as he stood up and ran, jamming a boot down on the man only just beginning to rise from the broken glass and keeping his gun trained on his head.
Realising that their victims had begun to take on the offence, the third attacker took off for a new position, but Bryce, closest to him, leapt into action. He sprinted off after the man, making a perfect shot as he was running to injure the man's foot and bring him down before Bryce fell to his knees and straddled the man's chest, gun trained on the surprised attacker's forehead.
Silence descended on the riverbank as everyone realised that the battle had been won. Lara and Hillary left their cover, the butler going to cover the gunman with the injured leg as Lara made for Fishman. Gareth kept his gun aimed on his prisoner but spared a glance towards Maria, who was tentatively peeking out from behind her jeep with a faint tear track running down her cheek.
"Maria, come on out." He held a hand out towards her and waved her to him. She gingerly walked over, sniffing back a tear. Gareth tugged her to his side and gave her a one-armed hug. "You did good, kid."
"Fishman," Lara interrupted impatiently. "What's going on?"
Gareth glanced up before returning his attention to the gunman, his voice showing anger as he answered. "Well, actually I was about to ask you the same thing."
"Don't look at me, this is nothing to do with us."
"Well then who are they?"
"I don't know!"
Bryce's voice halted the argument. "Maybe we should ask them?"
Lara and Fishman looked up, noticing whom Bryce was referring to. Silently and, it seemed, instantaneously, another group of at least twenty in black combats and balaclavas had appeared and taken positions, surrounding the raiders on three sides with the river on the fourth, semi automatic weapons all pointed steadily on their targets. "They just appeared from the bank on the other side of the road," Hillary said. "We must not have heard them arrive under the gunfire."
Lara let out a breath of resignation, turning to face the group with her gun held limply at her side, not dropped but not challenging. "What's going on?" she asked, her eyes scanning for a leader.
"Leave this place." A figure stepped forward into the light and pulled off its balaclava, revealing long blonde hair that flopped over slight shoulders and a woman's face in delicate make up. "Go back to your hotels and do not return. We will be here guarding the river until morning." Her accent was local but her English commendable.
"You want to stop us performing the ritual?" Gareth asked, confused. Lara hissed in annoyance; if they didn't know about the ritual before then they did now.
"Go," the woman repeated, ignoring his question. "Or we kill you all."
"In case you hadn't noticed," Lara said, "we have three of your men at gunpoint."
"You kill them if we don't drop our weapons?" She shrugged. "You underestimate me if you think that that will change my mind."
"You'll let your men die?"
"I won't let their lives be held over me. Now go, or we start with the girl." She nodded towards Maria, still shaken and clinging onto Fishman.
Gareth nodded, conceding defeat, and let his weapon drop. "Let this one go, Lara," he said, and then turned and prodded Maria towards their jeep.
Lara glared but she knew that he was right. They'd lost this one. She nodded acceptance to Hillary and Bryce and made for her own vehicle.
The militants watched coldly as Lara eased her jeep back onto the road, following on behind Fishman's. She returned their stares stonily, her jaw set in anger, and yanked the wheel hard to straighten the vehicle with a jerk.
The journey passed in silence for several minutes until Lara, wanting some distraction, asked, "Where did you learn to do that, Bryce?"
"What? That oh-so-flawless shooting the guy in the foot whilst we're both running and holding a gun to his head with an air of dashing menace, thing? That totally suave move that probably had you weak at the knees?"
In her antagonised state Lara only managed a wry smile in return for his light joke. Hillary was equally frustrated with the whole affair. "Dumb luck," he sniped.
"Hillary," Lara said shortly, in no mood for their bickering. "I thought it was very good, Bryce, well done."
"I've been practising in your Shoot Out 2000 whilst it was still in the prototype stages," Bryce muttered, turning away and staring out of the window, upset with Hillary's intolerance of his attempt to cheer his friends up.
Several more minutes of silence followed and a heavy rain took up, spattering down on the windshield as fast as the wipers could smear it away. Lara turned up the heater but didn't slow down, barrelling through the dark, rainy night faster than was advisable on the dark roads. It wasn't late, but it felt like it and the streets were almost deserted. Their empty racetracks made good outlets for her anger.
Bryce tired of the uncomfortable quiet and, sighing short temperedly, let his hand drop to his lap from where his fingers had been resting against his mouth. "So who were they?"
"I don't know."
"Did your research reference any protectors of the gate or anything?" Hillary asked. "Maybe they're an old order, like the Lux Veritatis, charged with keeping Hades hidden."
"No." Bryce sounded fed up. "Nothing to suggest that."
"I didn't see them wearing any symbols or insignia," Lara said, "they just looked like mercenaries or soldiers."
"Maybe they were."
"And why would they be interested in stopping us?" Bryce asked Hillary.
"Maybe they weren't. But whoever hired them might be."
Lara decided they were getting carried away. "I think it's a bit early to be making useless guesses. We need to know more and we need it to be grounded in reality, not guesswork. Let's just get back to the hotel, see if Fishman knows anything, and go over the research again to see if we've missed anything. I'd like to know who they are before I kill them. No-one is going to stop me from performing that ritual. No-one."
Lara and her companions sat with Maria in a corner booth in the hotel bar, the dim light and ambient noise masking their slightly secretive meeting. Gareth appeared at their table with two drinks in hand and slid into his seat. He held a half-pint glass of coke out to Maria. "Here," he said, "there's vodka in that, it'll calm you down." She took the glass and took a swallow, letting out a tense breath afterwards.
Bryce, Hillary and Lara watched the pair, taking in Gareth's ministrations as he tucked Maria's hair behind her ear and Maria's still-shaken appearance. Lara took a sip of her own drink, a much harder concoction than vodka and coke.
"What do you think we should do?" she asked quietly.
"Honestly?" Gareth asked. "I think we should go home."
"A woman with a gun is going to scare you away? No wonder you've not hit the tombraiding headlines recently, if that's your attitude."
"Lara." Gareth leaned forward, enforcing his point. "They are a small army with lots of guns and they are more than capable of killing us all."
"I've faced worse."
"Yes, well, you never had a young girl to look after, did you?"
"Hey," Maria complained, hitting Gareth's arm, her shock forgotten.
"Don't be silly, Maria," Fishman said, brushing her off. "You're just starting out, no-one expects you to handle it like a pro." He turned back to Lara. "We don't even know that the ritual's going to work, and if it does – is there really going to be a helmet of invisibility at the end of it? Tomb raiding is an unsure business and I'm not sure I'm willing to go on faith on this one."
"Fine." Bryce broke in, leaning back in his seat casually and taking a sip of his drink before continuing. "Go home. At least then we won't have to fight over the prize, will we?"
"We're not going anywhere," Maria spat. "That helmet is ours."
"Maria!" Gareth warned. "Look," he said, turning back to speak to the others, "let's try and figure out what we're up against before we make any rash decisions, alright? Does anybody have any idea who they could be?"
"We thought they might be hired militia," Hillary said. "Somebody else wants to stop us, maybe."
"Another raider?" Maria asked. "Maybe one who's a bit behind?"
Gareth smirked and looked to Lara knowingly. "The only raider I can think of that would be useless enough to be late and rash enough to get mercenaries to hold the fort for him would be Chen and last I heard he was too busy partying in Mexico to worry about supplementing the income he was blowing."
"When was the last time he was sober?" Lara laughed.
Thoughtful silence descended on the table for a few moments and then Maria stood, silently asking Fishman to let her out of the booth. "I'm just going to the bathroom."
The others watched her leave the bar as Gareth flopped back down. "I can't help thinking she's too young for me to be dragging her into this," Gareth said.
"How old is she?" Hillary asked.
"Nineteen, but she's far cleverer than her years. She was determined to get out and make her mark on the world and no-one was going to stop her."
Bryce, not at all interested in the welfare of the wonderful Maria, jumped in with a change of subject. "Look, I'll go and scour the internet for any mention of a mercenary group in Ukraine – they've got to advertise themselves somehow."
"Take Maria with you," Fishman ordered. "She can help you."
"I don't need any bratty kids holding me back, thank you."
"Maybe not," Fishman said, standing to leave, "but I want you to keep an eye on her whilst I make some calls and see who's doing what in the tomb raiding world. Lara, coming with?"
Lara nodded, prodding Bryce to stand and let her out and, in turn, Hillary. "Bryce, look after Maria," and then, as Bryce opened his mouth to protest, "No arguments! We've a lot of phone calls to make and you'll get the work done twice as fast with her help. Hillary, do you think you feel up to going into town and tracking down the undesirables to see if you can dig anything up?"
Hillary nodded, happy to help. "Alright."
"Take a phone and be careful," Lara warned. "Actually, on second thoughts, find a guide to accompany you."
"Will do," Hillary agreed, and he tapped Bryce's shoulder to attract his attention before they left to start their business.
"Right," Lara said, walking off, "let's go and find out just what's going on."
Four hours later Lara dropped her phone back into its cradle and stood, walking into Fishman's room and rifling through her notes as she did so. She sat down on the bed next to him. "The majority of our colleagues have missed this particular mission. Chen, as you said, seems to have forsaken raiding for partying, Patel is giving this one a miss because he's broken his leg, and the others either don't know about the Styx being found or are on completely the wrong track and are hitting several dead ends over on the banks of the Dnipro. None of them seem to have hired our mystery army.
"Same here," Fishman said, "though I've found out that Sonya Payne reckons the Styx is actually a brook in Greece. She always was clueless, that woman." He let out a long breath and fell backwards, lying flat on the pillows. "Of course, we could have found all that out in about fifteen minutes if we'd just asked people directly but I suppose you have to be subtle."
At that moment the door opened and Maria and Bryce dragged themselves in, tired and eye-strained from their extended cyber surfing. They flopped into nearby chairs, Maria closing her eyes and settling back into the cushions.
"Absolutely bugger all," Bryce said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "We'll try again tomorrow but right now I really think that bed is a good idea."
"Alright," Lara agreed, nodding. She picked up the phone and dialled Hillary's number, waiting for him to answer. "Hillary, did you find anything out?" she asked, and then listened to his reply. "Alright then, come home, we'll get some sleep and decide what to do tomorrow." She hung up. "Nothing," she said to the room, "either we have better luck tomorrow or we'll just have to find a way to work around them."
"Not that I'm saying that you're not subtle or anything, Croft, but let's try not to just kill them all, eh?" Fishman said jokingly.
The pain of his head hitting the floor of his cell sharply as they threw him back in barely registered to Kurtis. Pain was all he was feeling now, every waking moment was suffering. He was almost used to it, had almost learnt to ignore it; it wasn't shooting agony down every nerve ending, he had felt that before and was more than familiar with the burning, but quickly subsiding, sensation, but it was duller - the throbbing, consistent kind of pain from a crippling migraine or broken bone, just as intense but in a different, more enduring sense.
Raising his head slowly, his gaze swept out across the floor and then caught on something – a slight glint in the early evening dusk, shining dully out from the corner of the room. Gasping almost in delight, he forgot his pain and scrabbled across the floor towards it, snatching it up and cradling it in his hands with an almost maniacal love. It was a shard of glass, thick and green from a wine bottle, unnoticed until now among the dirt and dust. He ran his fingers along its edges. They weren't particularly sharp but with enough force they'd do.
"My precious," he joked to himself, laughing quietly with a sense of humour twisted by his ordeal, and caressing the fragment gently.
He pushed himself slowly to his feet, never removing his eyes from the glass, and then squeezed it between his fingers before experimentally stroking it down the length of his wrist, straining his eyes to follow the light trail of dislodged skin cells against the fading light. It tickled almost, the touch was so light, and he focused on it, finding it as intensely interesting as only one driven to breaking point can. He steeled himself then, grasping the shard even tighter, and brought it towards his wrist.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice interrupting him from behind. He stopped, the edge hovering above his vein. "What do you want?" she enquired again.
He blinked, suddenly losing interest in the objective in which only moments before he had been so determined. Somehow, her voice hadn't held the same quiet compassion it had before. The shard was tossed carelessly to the side, where it chinked against the floor, and he spun and sank down with his back against the wall, eyes half closed and unsurprised to see with his narrowed vision an empty room. He was tired and he was almost past feeling, and so without tears or anxiety he closed his eyes to sleep, but someone didn't want him to.
He unconsciously reacted to the sound of something slicing the air as it flew, and he opened his eyes only to squeeze them shut again before he even realised what was happening. A sharp stabbing pain exploded in his right temple, accompanied by the clattering of something falling to the floor and he scrambled to his knees, startled to find the previously abandoned glass shard coming to rest on the floor of the cell, the blood that it had drawn flowing freely down the side of his face.
"Who are you?" she demanded, and he looked up to find her standing over him with a murderous intent in her eyes and her face more angry than he had ever seen it. He gasped, backing up into the corner of his cell, genuinely afraid. "What do you want?"
He dropped to a crouch in the corner, shielding his face with his arms and squeezing his eyes shut, terrified in his broken state. A few moments passed and nothing more happened, nor was there any sound. Slowly, he lowered his arms and cracked open an eye, checking that she had gone, but she was still standing there.
Now, though, she appeared calmer and – she had changed. The clothes she wore were no longer those of their first meeting; they were brown shorts and a green top. Her hair was mussed and her body dusty, bruised and bloodied. This was how she'd looked when the pyramid had collapsed on her in Egypt, wasn't it?
"Who are you?" she asked, her earlier patient demeanour returned, "What do you want?"
Kurtis slowly stood, no longer cowed by her or Harding, a far away memory rooting in his mind. "It's alright," he said. "I remember now."
She smiled warmly, pleased with his answer.
Before he could act upon his newly realised direction, the door to the basement opened and light flooded in from the upper floor. She and Kurtis' attentions were snatched to the door as two guards started down the steps. He stood ready, holding his hands through the bars to be cuffed, and walked proud and without struggle when they led him away from his cell, leaving her behind.
It was late and Lara couldn't sleep. She lay there in the dark, staring at the red fluorescence of the clock by her bed as the minutes of the early hours ticked by. She felt angry and frustrated that her plans had been derailed by the mysterious woman, and though she and Fishman had always had a healthy rivalry between them she wasn't too thrilled about having to pool her resources with him. She knew that they were far more likely to succeed if they united against the common enemy, but it was hardly a situation conducive to selfish claiming of the prize at the end.
She sighed and resettled against the pillows, closing her eyes even though she felt wide-awake. It was strange, then that she apparently fell immediately asleep.
Lara stood on the bank of the river, deep darkness all around her and the silence punctuated only by the gentle lapping of the water against the banks. Her past self stood before her, dressed in the clothes she had worn whilst fighting to banish Seth and showing the bloody injuries and ingrained dust that had caked her body when the pyramid had fallen.
"He is the key," She said. "He remembers now. He sees me for who I really am. He is coming. You must save him."
"Who?" Lara asked. "Who are you talking about?"
"Man is not meant to be immortal. Save him, so that he might save you."
Lara's surroundings began to shimmer and lose coherence and She smiled warmly at her as She began to fade with them.
"Wait!" Lara cried, reaching out to stop her vision, but it was no use.
Gasping in shock, Lara's eyes snapped open and she found herself in her hotel room, cold winter sunlight streaming through the window. Slowly, she sat up, trying to figure out just what it was she had just been dreaming. No explanation came easily, so she shook her head to fully wake herself up and then got out of bed. She'd tell Hillary and Bryce over breakfast.
So just what is it that Kurtis has remembered? Who's this weird Dream Lara chick? And just what the hell is going on! I promisethat the next chapter will make things awhole lot clearer. If you're up on Greek mythology you may have figured out the Dream Lara one already. :-)