If my posts are annoying, just tell me to tone it down.
==
The raven’s eyes darted to the direction that the noise had come from. The catacombs seemed to take on a darker light, bathed in a miasma of grey and black. Daniel’s eyes widened as he saw that the sarcophagus lid was now completely off-- located on the floor. There seemed to have been no noise coming from the sound of the heavy object that was supposed to thud to the floor. Daniel was anxious and he noticed that his hands were shaking. His fingers felt odd, as if they were tingling. Slowly, but surely, he walked over to the sarcophagus and he looked inside.
The king was missing.
His eyes widened further.
“I’ll be back. Be calm, but be ready,” the raven said, departing from his shoulder and swooping high up above.
Daniel was left with silence. He grabbed his short sword from its scabbard, slowly. Its blade glittered in the dark. In his other hand was the throwing knife. Now, he felt as if he was ready.
He looked down. The book was missing as well.
Something moved behind him. Instead of spinning, with a slight motion he rotated his feet until he was in the other direction.
“Dark,” something said. “We’re in the dark.”
He closed his eyes, using his other senses-- other than his eyes, to gain a semblance of the room. The figure, whatever it was, was a meter away from him. It was not moving at the moment.
“Who are you?” Daniel asked.
“Mage,” the voice said, a rasping whisper in the blackness. “You can’t see me and I cannot see you. It looks like we are at a standstill.”
“How did you get down here?”
“I’ve been imprisoned in these walls for years on end. Tell me, does the sun still shimmer with the faint glow of the morning each time it rises?”
Daniel frowned, getting his knees in position to strike. He did not like the tone of the form. The bard knew that he had to be ready to strike, or to dodge, at any instant. At least his failure in becoming a knight had taught him how to evade blows-- quickly too.
“It rises and it sets.”
“Then all is well in the land,” the voice said, lingering for an instant when it should have parted.
“What do you want?”
“What do YOU want?”
“I don’t know why I’m down here,” Daniel started. “And I’m keen to get out.”
“No one has escaped here in years. You die down here.”
“Is that a threat?”
The form began to walk, not towards Daniel but to the side. The bard lightly rotated his steps so that it was in line with the form. It seemed to drift seamlessly rather than take steps in the direction that it was heading. That made him uncomfortable. He was obviously dealing with someone that had been tampered with by magic. Daniel’s knowledge of the arcane arts was limited at best. He had never been able to fully understand, let alone conjure, anything from the scrolls that Welcheren had brought him.
“No,” the voice said. “Just an observation. You’re a curious fellow, aren’t you? Do you really think that I cannot see that you have two weapons in each of your hands. They will not take you as far as you believe they will.”
“I keep my weapons as taut as my words,” Daniel gritted his teeth. “Be careful lest they find your throat.”
There was a laugh that turned into a cough. It sounded like that of a dying man. “Do you really think that they’re going to help you down here?”
“I do,” Daniel said. “Do you really think it’s wise to play chess with your words like it’s a game?”
There was a pause. Daniel closed his eyes tighter, using his mind to feel around for where the form was. He had to make sure that he followed its course of movements. If he was caught unaware, it could be fatal.
“Do you want to know what happened to the king?” The tone was flat, harsh.
“I do.”
“He started off well,” the voice said, moving further away from him-- back towards the wall behind him. “He would dream at night of all the great things that he would accomplish throughout his reign. Tarquinius truly cared for his people at the beginning. He gave out food for those that had none, clothed those who could not do so themselves and even funded the building of a cathedral near the town square. It was a beacon of hope for all the people, who believed that their troubled times were behind them and that there were verdant pastures ahead in the horizon.”
Daniel listened carefully. His arms were stiff, but he kept them in place-- just in case.
“It was when he heard his advisors whisper behind his back that things began to go wrong. They laughed at his infirmities. Tarquinius had tried so hard to be normal and had struggled all his life. Before his reign, his brother attempted to take the throne. He had planned Tarquinius’ assassination. It failed and his brother was guillotined for his actions. Tarquinius watched and did not shed a tear, not publicly. I saw him in his chambers late that night. He looked like a child, tears streaming down his cheeks and neck, his hands in his face. When the nobles laughed at him, he realized something. You see,” the voice coughed again and this time it was violent. “-- the nobles reminded him of his brother’s attempt at his own death. Worse, they chided him for his infirmities. They called him a freak and a Quasimodo. I take it you’ve read that one, yes?”
Daniel felt increasingly uncomfortable. It was like the possessor of the voice knew things about him that he had not said or even thought.
“Yes, they made him feel small when he had tried to appear so formidable. It ate at him. He imprisoned them at first, merely wanting to make an example. But then, wherever he looked, he saw their eyes and their laughs. He heard their laughs in his sleep. It haunted him and mocked him. Also, it made him paranoid.”
Daniel slowly let down his arms-- they had begun to grow sore. He opened his eyes.
Maybe it would be better to accustom them to the darkness?
“He went through his reign of terror. Nearly everyone was imprisoned and then he began to pick them off, one by one, for execution. By the end, there were nearly none of the original caste left. It was Arall that ended it.”
“Arall?”
“You will find out about him, sooner than you think.”
The voice dissipated. Daniel felt an absence in the room.
He was alone.
