Finally back with another update!
I'm still surprised at the length of this chapter – and how long it took me to write even though I had major bits of this written with the previous one…
Anyhow – my round of thanks of course to my lovely, awesome reviewers – wyverndragon, Ferilium, nemesis and Jessica151294 *hugs all and hands out brownies!*
Great to see most of you liking the bickering duo! :D I love writing up those scenes! :)
Also a shoutout to SatanReaper666, .3 , froggychan for liking my story enough to add it to their favourites. Thanks guys – truly appreciated!
And now without any further ado…
Disclaimer: I own nothing apart from my few random OCs. Peace!
RETURN OF DARKNESS
Chapter 6: REVELATIONS
Nicol Heinrich looked at the woman beside him. Gripping the railing of the compound, she looked grimly at the stunning gray-pink sunset. The lower part of her face was veiled with a dark handkerchief that served as a makeshift cover, but he knew beneath those striking eyes was a straight, pert nose and shapely lips that would probably be pursed in equally grim thought.
He knew that two years hadn't aged her a bit. If anything, they had added more charm to her than ever before. Despite being a few years senior, he had always followed her around Oxford, fancying himself secretly lovestruck. Her polite denials hadn't persuaded him one bit. But this was all before he'd met Lisa. His darling Lisa.
Most of the masters-students and almost all the undergrads had done the same, at one time or another; overtly or covertly. Barely out of her teens, even then she was not the kind of girl one forgot instantly. If not for the exotic yet classic looks, then her eyes – "Desert Eyes" as they were dubbed, when caught in the sunlight - seemed to pierce through every cover, every veil of every person. As if aware of it herself, she'd always lower her gaze in respect of everyone. The habit hadn't changed. He doubt it ever would. How many young twenty-somethings would do that?
And then there was, of course, her brilliant intellect - she would had everyone baffled, confused, and eventually enlightened before a lecture was over. It was her essence. It was what her own name meant.
"I cannot even begin to imagine how you fit into all this," he said in slightly accented English, before butting out the last end of his cigarette. This bookish, polite, downright noble girl, all clad up in a dark hooded jacket, carrying minor items of weaponry and … artifacts of some kind – like an eccentric adventurer.
She lowered her gaze from the view of the Alps – in all their snowy glory, and stared at the highway going toward the German-Austrian border stretched out like a meandering snake in front of them.
She finally looked up at him – and her expressive eyes told him that she was trying to figure out the same herself.
"I'll tell you one day, Nicol… I will."
He could only nod. As the captain of the German forces, he had arranged everything for her as she had requested. He knew he'd be court-marshalled, maybe even jailed, if the higher ups ever found out. But the attack in Prague only hours ago had only cemented his trust in this minor operation. If the target was even remotely related to what happened in Prague, and previously in Paris, then it was worth it. If he went down, it would undoubtedly be for a just cause. A small price.
His internal rambling was cut short when the target began to rattle up in their combined line of visions. The waiting was over – it was time for action.
Like a cobra springing for an attack, she had vaulted over the railing in a single, fluid movement.
"You have the comm link. Need the slightest of help, just let me know – from infantry to surgical air-strike, you'll have it… Good luck!"
She nodded and turned back to face the captain, and uttered three shaky words before running downhill toward a borrowed bike, revving the engine and going after the target.
"I'll need it."
"Ancient weapons of the Lux Veritatis," began Kurtis, before launching into a detailed account of the Periapt Shards. "Formed out of the ore of a mysterious meteor that seemed to garner healing properties of all kinds. Found in the outskirts of the Antioch - the 12th century crusader state."
"And these were specifically designed to eradicate Eckhardt?" Lara asked, curious. Her half-eaten sandwich lay abandoned in the plate, as she sat cross-legged on the bed and jot down points in Werner's notebook. It was just after sunset, the duo had, after their regular bickering session, worked up a small appetite, which was alleviated with local sandwiches, fruit and water. Now it was back to business.
"More or less. They are powerful enough to kill any immortal being when combined. Most of the meteor disintegrated when it entered the Earth's atmosphere, it is said – yet a substantial part still survived – the ore seemed untouched. Legend has it that it was discovered by a poor farmer, ailing with lepers, which were healed instantaneously with contact from the Meteor."
Kurtis fished for a cigarette and lighter in his stolen jacket's pocket – "Folk tales are common in the history of the Order. And studying Middle-Age-peasantry was seldom on my to-do list… Oh crap," cursed when he realized he was out.
"Yes, yes, very cultured of you, Trent," Lara returned, not even looking up from the notebook where she jot down the basic facts.
Kurtis gave her a bored glance before continuing. "The farmer guy - He cut the ore into blunt shards, wore a tiny piece around his neck – like an amulet, a periapt-"
"Hence the name?"
"Yes. He made quite a deal out of it, and I guess the name stuck. It is written that the peasant then went on to the local monk, who had experience handling certain supernormal activities- and handed his findings over to him. Now take a guess on who the monk-guy is."
Lara looked at Kurtis, and hiked an arched eyebrow. Appearing annoyed by his childish propositions, she extracted a very secret, very forbidden pleasure in being treated in this manner. Giving her small pieces of puzzle to play with as he looked on, patronisingly.
It was so, so wrong.
But the adventurer found it much easier to ignore this embarrassing emotion entirely, than dissect and try to understand it fully.
She bit back a small smile before rattling her brain for the answer. It was not long before Lara voiced her theories.
"Those supernormal activities, I can guess they had something to do with Eckhardt or the Cabal. If this monk handled such affairs, as you say, then I'm guessing it's one of your ancestors," Lara mused.
"Not just any ancestor – we're talkin' about… the big daddy," Kurtis nodded, smiling as he leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms behind his head.
Lara raised an arched eyebrow, as she once again mulled over the knights of the Lux Veritatis in the Vault of Trophies. DeCombel, Occitan, Aicard, Vasiley, Limoux….
"Brother Obscura."
Lara's train of thoughts halted with a huge mental screech. "Brother Obscura?!" she blurted out.
"The Big Daddy himself," smirked Kurtis, his face adorning the familiar lopsided grin.
The mild shock subsided. "You really are disgusting, Kurtis. But pray, do continue."
"With pleasure," said Kurtis with a wink, his azure eyes dancing. Lara wanted to slap his arrogance out his mending body.
Trent merely continued. "Brother Obscura, already well known throughout the region as an expert exorcist – a sacred monk with unmatchable powers when it came to dealing with spirits. With the shards at his hand, he studied and recorded his findings extensively. It turns out that the shards could heal physically as well as spiritually – diseased mortal souls could be cured-"
"With mortal being the key word, I presume?" Lara cut in.
"Yes. But they had to be used in a specific manner – say, a certain technique. And always together. In his writings, he drew analogy to that of the image of the Christian God - the Trinity. Three aspects of God; three Shards, etcetera. Suffice it to say the Shards themselves were considered "holy" weapons – the gifts of God. As meteors often would be interpreted in the medieval culture."
"Tres periapti coniuncti cum iustitiae igne mala cingunt," Lara nodded spoke, recalling the Latin book in the library of the Vault of Trophies.
"The three Periapts joined together burn with righteous light to confine evil, exactly," Kurtis nodded as he translated.
Lara jotted down the information hurriedly.
"Though he was persuaded to "lend" these weapons to the military faction of the Knights Templar for the second Crusade – he refused, citing that these weapons had possibly a greater purpose that the holy war."
"Interesting…" Lara nodded slowly, digesting the information. "Templars, you say, as opposed to the Lux Veritatis… Weren't the Lux Veritatis active during the Second Crusade?"
"They were formed afterwards. The local Knight, Aicard, I believe, had heard some of the exaggerated tales of Big Daddy's adventures. He strived to seek him out, and deal with some of the fantasy-based elements the Knights were facing from the opposition during the Crusade from Jerusalem… "
"Define 'fantasy-based elements'."
"Diversionary war-tactics from expert Muslim alchemists."
Lara's eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise as she nodded, appreciative of the history.
"Alchemy, with all its philosophical and religious connotations was at its peak during this particular era…" she elaborated.
"Yes," nodded Kurtis, solemn. "What else to believe? Fight for the Holy Land. Seeing the supposed enemy attack and conjure up shapes and smoke at will and out of thin air. All this in addition to superior weaponry, detailed strategies. Soon there were talks of all kinds of 'wandering spirits' at large. Beginnings of early demonology, one can say. Throw imminent defeat into the mix and the Knights Templars, alongside other military factions, and the papal force had a helluva lot to think about."
"So where does Eckhardt come into all this? If I'm not wrong, the Lux Veritatis were operational approximately a century before Eckhardt ever reared his face in the scheme of things."
Kurtis' face turned grim. "You're wrong. Eckhardt's identity was confirmed only after countless missions into learning his true identity. For a greater portion of Brother Obscura's life, he was made to fight this shadow war, with unknown entities. The initial Cabal and Eckhardt preferred to go nameless at first."
"What's more scary than the absolute unknown, right?"
Kurtis only nodded in response.
"See, we had a Judas amongst us. Our very own double agent. The infamous ninth knight of the Lux Veritatis."
"How incredibly apt."
Kurtis gave a wry smile. "Reginaldus. Planted by the Order at first to gain inside information on the Cabal. He was to infiltrate the Cabal, learn their secrets – from ID to MO. Though he aided in identifying the culprits, Eckhardt discovered his treachery, and as chance of redemption, pun intended, offered him to join the Cabal."
"Know the exact dates?" Lara asked, hoping to form the traditional archaeologists' timeline-strategy to discover more.
"No. But this was around late 12th century. The Lux Veritatis had been operational since a few decades by then."
Lara fought to clamp down on a wave of annoyance at hearing this, and looked at the man in front of her. "I hope to every god and deity I have ever studied that you have actual books on all this you're telling me. We need more information on the Knights and their volumes to come up with a way to defeat the Nephilim for once and for all…"
Kurtis ignored her and harped on. It took seconds for the wave of annoyance to turn into a fiery streak of anger.
"Reggie was eventually hunted down and murdered by the Order eventually. Though he hadn't given away most of the Order's important secrets – he had helped Eckhardt in making the Sanglyph by providing him with some of the key elements of black alchemy essential to the project – betraying crucial, volatile allies of the Order during the process." Kurtis took a drink from his water bottle at this point. "Not that we had many to begin with," he said, offering a sheepish, unconcerned smirk.
"You never answered me," Lara's tone was carefully controlled.
The smirk morphed into a serious expression. "You have my word. But I can't get you the actual tomes."
"And why not?" Lara shot. "With all due respect, I think we're running a little late for exchanging folk tales, Kurtis. Unless we have actual books to elaborate on these, we've practically nothing on our hands!"
"It's my damn history, Lara," he returned, gritting his jaw.
"It's not enough!" She snapped the notebook shut and started pacing, her migraine returning with a renewed vengeance. "It's reason why I prefer working alone. My own way. Research always uncovers vital things that elude such short summaries-"
"I'm sure it does," Kurtis replied, managing a cool tone. "But we don't have time to follow-up on all this… And since when did you start following conventional archaeology?"
Ever since I found myself buried alive under a hundred tons of stone, with my chest caved in alongside thirty-seven other fractures, while scorpions and maggots fed off of my body as I tried to crawl toward a duct to avoid asphyxia.
Lara stopped pacing and sent him a deadly glare, half in shock of the truth she almost blurted out to the former Legionnaire. She had a feeling that Kurtis was hiding something.
"We need those books, Trent. Now."
Kurtis merely leaned back and let out a low sigh, as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
To Lara, it was a show of nonchalance. One that inadvertently pushed her over the edge, and into a thoughtless emotional meltdown.
Such rich history, such inspiring legacy – and this utter fool of a man had the galls to run away from it all? And with no way to verify his story – to ascertain the facts, uncover more about the Order that could prove to be important…
"Yes, I am disgusting. You've made that crystal clear already, lady." It seemed as if Kurtis had almost read her thoughts.
Lara looked up – not sure why she felt like losing it completely. "Oh you have no bloody idea what's going on in my mind right now, Trent."
Kurtis gave a bitter, snarly humph. "Sure. I know that look. But you, Croft - of all people, have no right giving me this-"
"You tell me, Trent!" she exclaimed, brown orbs crackling with fire. "Why are you not budging? Why?!"
"None of your goddamn business, Croft."
"Sure as hell it is!" she shot back, on the verge of shouting. "It became my damned business when I held Werner's mutated body! When I ran through sewers and faced psychopaths and murderers – so I could clear my name! So I could bloody understand it all!" She pressed a finger to her chest and later, to her temple in a bid emphasise her point.
"Don't go there, Croft," he warned lowly, lips thinning into a grim line, eyes harsh. Muscles knotted in tension beneath Kurtis' jacket as he sat up – as if ready for a physical encounter.
Outside, the thunder crackled and roared as cold snow fell from the angry gray skies. It would have been the only sound in the motel room, had the last bit of Lara's patience not snapped seeing Kurtis' combative stance.
"Or what?!" she snarled back, getting up from the bed, notebook falling onto the covers. "What? You're going to send your little Frisbee at my throat? Because you've already forgotten the dozens that were slaughtered today thanks to us?! Because you weren't man enough to handle everything in the first place?! Because you fled and got your father killed?!"
The last straw.
In a lightning fast movement, Kurtis got up from the bed and flew at Lara, gripping her upper-arms, in a death-like grip that would leave dark bruises later on. She did not flinch, despite the dull ache that started developing in her arms. Instead, she looked up and met his glare with a lethal one of her own.
Yet she got a considerable shock at what she saw. Instead of murderous rage the raider had managed to hone into a weapon herself, she saw rawest of pain. From the midst of his slightly bloodshot, yet wholly tired eyes – it shone clear as day. His frustration poorly concealed it – and his dilated azure orbs flashed like that a wounded caged animal, reflecting his endless anguish.
The lamplight played shadows across his face – through furrowed brows- vertical anxiety lines, high cheekbones and stubble-adorned angular jaw. His mouth, drawn in snarled frown, his hands shook from the mere effort of not throwing her down and beating the pulp out of her right there and then without the slightest remorse.
"You," he breathed lowly, in her face, voice hoarse with rage that betrayed him - "don't know half of it, woman!"
And in that single moment, Lara heard small whispers of her long-strangled conscience – as it brought a series of revelations that had her balking, internally.
He's hurt. All along. He has always been hurt. It was his fuel; his only vice. He hates me. He hates himself. All along. The meager chance at redemption. It's what got him through one listless day after another. He couldn't help it, then. I can't help it, now. That pain. He doesn't deserve this. He thinks he does. I know. He hurts. Even now. That pain – too deep for words. I know. I know it. I know it, Kurtis, I know it all…
"Just-stay-the-hell-away…" he growled viciously, a vein throbbing in the middle of his forehead.
She lowered her gaze, now only mildly aware of the pain in her arms. She felt nauseated. Sick of her rapier tongue and the blood it drew almost every time it struck. That one look had silenced her. Brought her own deeds in front of her. Easy to judge someone else's failings than look at your own. How many times had she killed for the mere sake of it? And what exactly did she know of forced responsibility? Of hiding in darkness all her life? Of being forced to grow up in a shadow war in which there were more martyrs than victors?
None.
Lara felt her shoulders knot in tension, her legs nearly give out, yet she could not bring her eyes up to his anymore.
The only mortal saviour of humanity, as she was sensationally dubbed – all, with absolutely none of her own.
He unhanded her that moment, and Lara retreated a step. The chirugai spun viciously behind Kurtis. The throbbing in her head and arms continued to pulse throughout her body, yet she still didn't look at him. It was only when he had crossed the room and stalked out of the door in a few lengthy strides that she snapped to the reality of it all.
Grasping the corner of the dresser, she let out a breath she never knew was holding.
Collapsing onto the chair, she put her head in her hands, resisting the urge to cry, pull her hair out, break everything in sight.
Werner. It wasn't odd to think immediately of him, even in such a situation. Ever since she stepped in this part of the continent, he had taken over her mind like the worst of demons.
Werner – had been one of the only two people who had ever come back for her. Ever. Who had seen past her barriers and airs and sensed the true spirit of her being. Whether training her for field archaeology, or giving pieces of the history to lure her into an agreeable mood.
Kurtis Trent and Werner von Croy may not have been cut from the same cloth. But to her, they were an enigma – sometimes friend, sometimes foe; sometimes mentor, sometimes competitor.
But always there, with her and for her. In their own distinct ways.
Needless to say when Kurtis walked out, it was like losing von Croy all over again.
'Son of a goddamn bitch!' Kurtis thought furiously to himself as he kicked a stray Pepsi can, still shaking from his heated argument with Lara. Zipping up his jacket, he stalked forward in the dead of winter on the deserted streets.
If there was anybody watching him, they'd think he had a death wish. And that wouldn't be far from the truth. The nylon jacket did little to block out the blistery cold winds – and underneath Kurtis was naked waist-up, apart from his cotton bandages.
But his hot-head was enough to fuel him as he stubbornly walked forward, aching jaw clamped angrily and hands stuffed beneath the armpits for warmth.
'How dare she- and all for a few freaking dusty scrolls?!'
For a moment, all Kurtis saw was blood-red. The streets, the lamplights, the road – all bathed in deep crimson that he wished for a moment, belonged to Lara.
Then it was gone.
Leaning back against a streetlamp, he closed his eyes shut and let the thoughts run free for a while. Yes, Lara Croft was renowned for her thorough, brilliant work. Yes, she was an ultimate bitch to work with. One with no sense of filtering what to say and what to keep to oneself.
But she was hardly ever far from the truth.
The telephone booth was hardly three feet away from him. He knew he'd been stalling that single phone call since the past three years. And now it had come back to bite him in the ass at the worst of times. It wasn't about a few old books at all. She had sensed it, and he could tell.
But that did not entail he be not annoyed at her tenacity that was almost suffocating. Or her scathing words that cut a layer too deep.
Far too deep.
He exhaled a puff of vapour - the epitome of calm rage.
Those damned books. They had been his undoing then, they will be his undoing now.
But, hell; even he knew she was right, to a very limited extent.
Sauntering over, Kurtis entered the phone booth – dully noticing the vulgar pictures of naked Czech girls adorning the device.
Filth like him walked everywhere these days, he thought wryly to himself. Before prioritizing the task at hand.
One step at a time. Now that he was here, in the marginally warm booth, he should pick the receiver.
Good. Revise the number mentally, then swipe the card.
Done. Now dial the damned number. And then, talk.
The line was picked up within three rings – and once he was patched through, he found himself absolutely dumbfounded. As if iron bands were wound on his neck that prevented him from breathing or speaking. As the recipient cleared their throat politely, he felt images rush through his mind's eye. From a perceptive child, to a teenage rebel, then to a mercenary… and then, to a mere nobody.
His voice though thick with emotion, surprisingly was clear.
"Maria… It's me."
Whew! Glad that is over! You've reached this far, meaning you've survived this snooze-fest of a chapter (Honestly, I didn't even feel like rechecking it. Pardon any mistakes/typos!)
Who the hell is Maria?! XD
Haha.. I'm gonna have fun with that :D
Still pretty surprised at how long it took me to write this. In my defence, I had quite a few interesting ideas popping up in my head. But somehow, I've been having problems translating them in a manner that they flow with the storyline. I've a 400-word piece written and ready – Lara's memory of Egypt, that I really, badly wanted to use – but it just couldn't fit anywhere :/
Nevertheless, hope you all liked the emotional bit. Took a risk there, but to the plot, I felt it was relevant. I wanted Lara to meltdown, and frankly I wrote the "Frisbee" bit keeping in mind Lara's "pussycat" comment to Bouchard in the game (the one that gets her killed). So hopefully not too much OOC there. But do let me know what you feel about her and Kurtis' emotional onslaughts. I intend to tie it all significantly in the story – and I'd love to hear it from you all.
Mysterious lady wasn't the focus in this chapter. Though she's upto something too! I wanted to give her a break but jeez… She's one crazy woman! :p Though on a serious note, I felt it would be better to look at her from another person's POV for a change. Had fun writing about her there… But I won't be doing this bit too often, lest it confuses the reader.
I've experimented with a couple of writing styles so far – found this to be the most comfortable form of writing. It all comes very clearly to me – the words and phrases come very lucidly (English isn't my mother tongue, so I keep these tidbits in mind)… Hope you guys are happy with this. I think this history lesson should last a few chapters at least :)
Next chapter: I'd say it would definitely bring more action, a bit of drama and a whole lot of scary! Hopefully, though scary isn't my forte! But until then, adios amigos! Do let me know what you think of this… As always, any criticisms, or advice, just review and let me know. Many thanks! Enjoy! :)