Marlassor's battle chapter 2

2.

         The long silence that surrounded the tomb of Ackmar was ripped asunder by a ripple on the ground, unlike a normal tremor this ripple warped the very fabric of the earth, as though the scene was a reflection in water and a finger was dipped in to distort the view. Another ripple followed and the ground started to wobble in a two meter radius, ripple was followed by ripple, faster and faster until the circle on the ground began to sing a low melodious tune. Trees on the left hand side of the portal bent away from the noise and the grass flattened itself, if the roots had not held them they would have flung themselves far from this abomination of nature. The centre of the circle slowly stopped vibrating leaving a black hole ringed with a luminous white line. A hand with a glowing ring that crackled and popped on its finger shot through the hole and grasped the luminous line that surrounded it, its twin appeared wearing an identical ring and grasped the opposite side.

         There was a huff of exertion as Marlassor pulled himself upwards out of the ground and on to the shimmering disc. He was barefooted and on a toe of each foot was a glowing ring identical to those on his hands. He clambered out of the black hole, rolled across the ripples and came to a rest outside the ring. He got to his knees and stopped in that position for a good two minutes while gasping and heaving. He got his breath back and spat out a small charm that he had placed in his mouth, it fell to the floor and dissolved leaving behind small snake like tendrils of smoke.

         The rings were next and they were taken off hastily as if they were too hot to handle. He placed them at his side in a small pile where their glow diminished and they gelled together to resemble a rough rock, their charge was spent and if things went to plan he wouldn't be needing them again to climb the portal.

         He took in  his surroundings, the whole area was bathed in a peculiar light from several sources that didn't radiate luminance, rather channel it in and point it at him. He noticed he was casting at least five shadows, this confirmed that light was coming from different directions. One of the shadows didn't belong to him, it was a misshapen blob twice as big as the other shadows and seemed to flicker in and out of focus, another shadow had movement that was a few seconds delayed from his own. He looked away, he couldn't afford to lose his concentration over something as petty as shadows.

         The hill swam in a sea of mist, he could see for leagues in all directions and no other landmark punctured the dense cloud. The slope of the hill ran away from him for half a league and then disappeared under the thick line of mist that lapped at its surface with a heavy undulation. Where the mist touched the ground it left behind a coating of frost that sparkled in the low light. Stunted grass and a few hideous trees were the only vegetation that grew, flattened by the heavy presence of the character of this lonely place. No animal - known or unknown - made a disturbance to the quiet air and no wind stirred the ocean of mist that supported or hid the base of the hill. A smell of stagnation cloaked the place, the air held the promise of death which was appropriate because this was the final resting place of Ackmar.

         Ackmar's tomb crested the top of the hill, it was a low structure made as if its constructors had sunk the tomb into the body of the hill, as if they had tried to bury the tomb. Although he could not see the actual building the surrounding low wall weighed heavy on Marlassor's senses, it pulled at his sight and commanded his attention. Tearing his eyes away and focusing them on the floor he noticed all the blades of grass pointed towards the tomb. He looked at the trees, they too leaned in towards the heavy construct atop the hill. He had the feeling that when he reached the crown of this mount he would be able to see the mist slowly circling the tomb.

         He started his ascent. His feet were heavy on the ground, gravity was stronger here, its pull more tangible. He was weakened from the transference into this realm and had to frequently pause to regain his strength. Magic was dampened here and his regeneration spells didn't sustain as he would have wished, the mist had a draining effect upon Marlassor's might and the quicker he got inside the tomb the better.

         The mist stirred far away on his right. A bubble formed, broke the smooth horizon and started to rise. The lack of any landmark near the bubble made its size impossible to judge, but it must be huge, its expansion sounded of distant, grumbling thunder. The bubble popped with a whooshing sigh and a column of gaseous mist rose high into the sky, hung there for a minute and then collapsed flooding the faraway misty plain with more downy clouds. Marlassor waited for an aftermath, but only the same dampened silence resumed. The only sign that the event had ever happened was the increased agitation of the mist lapping at the foot of the hill.
         
         He continued his journey upwards, each step hampered by the heavy, pulling atmosphere of this dying place. The stump of the tomb drew nearer, and as he got a better view of the construction he saw that its walls, although centuries old, looked freshly built. There was no damage, no moss or lichen clinging to their surface, no degradation in its structure, even the mortar seemed to have been recently laid. For all its apparent newness and undamaged facade the thing radiated age and decay, Marlassor could feel this, it bit heavily into his senses. He had seen ancient insects encased in amber, saw every detail on them, the hairs on their legs or the threaded lines in the gossamer of their wings and they too looked young and fresh, but they were millions of years older than the viewer and that was the feeling he got from this collection of lonely stones.

         His ascended until he could see over the low wall and the image of a small tomb left his mind. The hill was hollowed out. Inside the low wall was a gargantuan pit sunk into the hill, its bottom shrouded in mist. Its ragged circumference stretched from one crest of the hill to the other. The pit was lined with rough, hacked out rock with veins of flickering colour, these pulsed dimly throughout its surface and threaded their way down making the fog below glow with muted hues. He pressed on.

         He reached the low wall and stopping for a while to rest he placed a hand on its coarse grainy surface. Although no sound was produced he could feel the wall vibrating under his hand. He was filled with a sense of longing, of need for company. Loneliness was not the description of the feeling it was more of a hunger for......Marlassor could not pin the feeling down, to describe it as desire or need belittled its potency. He ran a hand across his face and took a deep breath, he realised he was trying to explain a human emotion and project it onto an inanimate thing, the wall could not have feelings and needs...could it?

         He looked over the low wall, directly beneath him was a staircase of sorts ripped out of the rock face that spiralled away into the misty depths. The first few steps were not there, either they had crumbled away - judging by the way this place renewed itself he doubted that - or that it was some sort of test, a leap of faith. If he were to jump down from the low wall to the first step there was no way of climbing back out, he would be committed to climbing down, but as that was his plan he didn’t hesitate. He swung over and dropped on to the first step, no going back now. He expected the stairway to crumble and give a little given its shabby appearance, but as he landed his spine was jarred and his teeth clacked together by its unyielding solidity.

         To his side was one of the shimmering veins. Its body was made of melted glass, some sort of energy had been at play here and had eaten its way into to the wall and weaved its way downwards, leaving these fused trails as its witness. He had heard a similar effect happens when lighting strikes a body of sand, say a beach, you could excavate the point where the lighting had contacted and bring out a forked trail of fused sand, some tribes - the Fulgurites mainly - used these as symbols of their gods wrath. These veins of glass were much bigger and more well-formed than the lightning strike residues - by tenfold at least - what was the magnitude of the energy spent on this tomb to produce such marvels and how great were the people that had wielded it? On closer inspection the light didn't pulse in the tubes, but they seemed to flow through in liquid form like a fluorescence tainted stream, in this stream were small lumps of impurities which the liquid gathered its luminance around lighting them up. No matter how interesting this new form of artificial light was he could spend no longer pondering over it, he had to ignore it and strike onwards.

         The walkway down although solid and unworn was covered in dust and grit, no footmarks were in this dust telling him this place had been in seclusion for an age. He followed it down until the mist grew so thick that it began to hide his knees from his sight. The fused tubes shone on every particle in the mist lighting the air around him, blurring his vision and filling his head with gentle hypnotic colours. Taking a deep breath of the musty air he closed his eyes, held out his hand to the wall to guide him and continued his descent down to the thing he had sought for almost all of his adulthood.