Introduction to Darkness
#1 of One's freedom...
One's Freedom...
Chapter 1: introduction to darkness
Cassandra awoke slowly, pain greeting her foggy mind from various sources. As the inexperienced warrior made accounts of the injuries, the scenes of her failed escapade with her friends played out within her questioning mind. They had gone out, seeking adventure, and they had found it.
Someone had been stealing from the hunter's traps. It could have been an animal, sure, but the friends didn't care, it was something for them to do during the lazy moments between summer and fall when they had no serious chores to do. Besides Franky had overheard father Marcus' whisperings in his father's tavern. Someone had dug up old man Weller and to the friends it hinted at something foul, something sinister.
Once gathered Mark had scratched out a rough map and Sarah had pointed out where her father's traps had been broken and looted from, as well as some other points that she thought were those of other hunters. Sure, the looted traps where a few months apart, but still on the map it mad a sorta circle, as if someone was wandering around, getting a lay of the land, stealing the food they found and... a freshly interred body.
Following the logic that the oldest violated traps were closest to this somebodies hide the group of friends headed out, laughing and merry making as they explored. Only when they came upon the old ruin, a shell of a bygone abbey did they grow serious. With nervous tension they entered the hulking structure, laughing in relief when they found not but the remains of old man Weller propped up in a corner.
Relief that turned to sheer horror once the man's corpse lifted its head, its horrible rotting head, and noiselessly growled or moaned at them, Cassandra wasn't sure at the time and still wasn't now. Things blurred after that, Sarah had screamed, she might of as well.
Franky was the first to recover, running in with his club raised high, it shattering as it collapsed the dead man's skull in upon itself. Cassandra heard Sarah getting sick next to her, hells, she felt a little queasy from the sight herself, but she didn't turn to her friend, couldn't turn as she saw the dead man right himself and blindly claw at Franky, eventually catching the young man in a choke hold.
Both she and Mark ran in, trying to dislodge the corpse's hands from their friend's throat, screaming as the dead fingers began to worm their way into his flesh. Then there was a loud pop, an eruption of tearing meat and flesh, the dislocation and splintering of bone followed pain and then darkness, horrible, fitful darkness.
Cassandra froze, panic stealing her of her will, her mind racing. The... thing! Where was Old man Weller's body? Where was she? Her friends?
Pain flared as Cassandra struggled to stand quickly, to defend herself from the vile thing, where ever it was, but it proved too much for the inexperience adventurer and her raging nerves forced her to cry out and curl up instinctively, clamping her arms tightly around herself in an attempt to block out the pain and encroaching nausea as she collapsed upon the floor once again.
"I hear you've finally decided to rejoin us, human." A cold.... sterile voice with an odd accent called out from the gloom of where ever Cassandra was.
Who was he? An enemy? The one who... who dug up Mr. Weller? Or maybe he was an adventurer, like herself. Cassandra choked back a wave of bile and vomit, coughing severely before she could address the stranger. "Who... who are you? What do you want? Where... where are we? Where are my friends?"
Silenced answered her demands, a silence Cassandra felt was filled with snide smirks and dark thoughts. The woman opened her senses up to her surroundings, she felt cold... naked, he, or worse they, had striped her of her belonging. The stone floor beneath her warmer than the damp air of the cave, she had been lying here awhile now, long enough for the slick stone floor to leech away her body heat.
Wherever she was dark, too dark for her to see, Maybe underground so she focused on her hearing instead, trying to detect even the faintest of sounds that would give the strangers location away. Nothing... she couldn't detect anyone's presence. Where did he go? Did she dare to move? Finally with baited breath the warrior shifted, pulling her leg under her so she could get her knees under her.
"Sarah is recovering elsewhere. You're other friends didn't make it however. Frankly I'm surprised that you did seeing how close you were when the enchantments failed on the corpse."
"Enchantments... on the corpse? Magic... Necromancy! You're a necromancer!" As soon as the last word escaped her Cassandra clapped her hands over her mouth in shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to accuse..."
"Yes."
"What?"
"Yes. Yes I am. A necromancer."
Cassandra froze again, a fresh wave of nausea washed over her. He WAS an enemy, a necromancer, a blight against all that lived. Fear gripped her stomach, she was alone and naked, her friends dead and a necromancer, A NECROMANCER!, was with her, talking to her. She had to keep him talking, buy herself some time to think, to escape. "What do you want with me?"
"For now I simply want you to come closer, so I can inspect you."
Cassandra hesitated. Inspect? Said in such a cold, clinical way, as if she were merely an animal, easily discarded should she fail his expectations. "Are you going to kill me?" her voice pregnant and heavy with fear.
"Sooner or later, I suppose, but not now."
The answer didn't really relieve the young woman of her fear, but she nodded anyway. What choice did she have, she was disarmed, and even if she still had her club what good would it do against a mage who could animate the dead. Hell, she couldn't even see him, so for now he was in charge, but she would fight, keep her mind sharp and her own, so that when the opportunity came she could take it and be free.
Cassandra slowly got to her feet, her body ached and she still felt nauseous, but at least it was passing. Blindly she wobbled forward, arms outstretched in front of her feeling for a wall or something to follow. She moved nearly twenty feet when she heard something move ahead of her, a soft scraping... like bone against stone. What was it? Was it old man Weller's body again? Had the bastard necromancer lead her into a trap?
Something grabbed her forearm and she screamed, feeling claws scrap into her flesh as she yanked her arm back. Panicked the young woman crouched low, putting her arms up in a defensive posture like Franky had taught her.
The strike to her face came out of nowhere, turning her head painfully to the side and forcing her to her knees before she could comprehend what had happened. "Do not res..." Whatever the necromancer was about to say was lost to Cassandra as a second blow slammed into her face, knocking her unconscious.