Hour Of Darkness
Chapter Nine, I've Just Seen A Face
Liryl was the first to wake up, mainly because Ringo was tired from expending so much energy on spells and, well, George and Paul couldn't. She stood up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The sky was a dirty grey, foreshadowing storms and rain in the humid smell of the air. Her flowing dress clung to her body as she observed the two Beatles frozen in time.
Paul had an extremely angry look on his cold features. She traced her fingers along his jaw line, shivering at the ice cold touch of the crystal. One fist was raised in the air, defiantly. She shrugged and moved to look at George.
George looked like a massive gargoyle, his features twisted, his wings fully outstretched as if he were ready to fly and barrel into Paul. Liryl observed him closely. She decided his features were most handsome, despite their present expression; she knew he wouldn't always be making this face. She looked him up and down, observing his faded jeans, his bare, strong chest, his long fingers. She gazed at him like he was a work of art, a sculpture in a museum…
"He's not so bad when he's frozen, eh?" Ringo's voice came from right behind her, making her jump.
"He's quite handsome…" She trailed off. Ringo smiled.
"Ah, maybe it's best that you fancy Georgie here. Paulie's taken."
She looked at him strangely. "No, he's right here…" Ringo chuckled, shaking his head.
"Never mind. I suppose it's about time we let them move, eh?" Liryl stepped back as a light ball of flames erupted in his palm. He waved his burning hands all over George, the crystal melting like ice. Liryl watched in astonishment, clearly awed by Ringo's abilities.
"Never before have I seen such power in a mage! How did you acquire such an incredible ability, great mage?" A shocked expression crossed her features. "Have you touched the Raenth?" She asked in an awed whisper. He stared at her blankly.
"So the stories are true." Ringo halted his resurrection of George, his band mate standing half frozen in the sun that glittered off every facet of the crystal. He looked at her with annoyance.
"Look, girl, I don't know what this Raenth is or even where it is. I know the Dark One has it, but I've never seen it in the flesh, so to speak, much less touched it." Liryl stared at him in open-mouthed awe.
"You are a Chosen One." She breathed, her long fingers stretching out to touch his clothes, his hair. He jerked away, but she was not deterred.
"Would you care to explain? We've plenty of time before John arrives, and these two aren't going anywhere." Ringo sat in the grass, motioning for her to sit next to him.
"Talk."
****
John stood on the pure white landscape, squinting at the light. A strong wind blew in his face, his long auburn hair whipping around his shoulders. There seemed to be no floor, no walls; just a full white expanse where John was floating. He looked in all directions, confused. Was he dead?
"Hello?" He called, shocked at the abrupt shattering of the silence, despite the fact it was his own voice.
"Hello, John," A woman's voice called. John turned to the source, a young woman who floated before him. He recognized her immediately; the long black hair, the emerald eyes.
"Mystique!" She nodded. "But…you can't talk…"
With a sad smile, she touched his cheek tenderly. "No, I can't." Her voice suddenly changed, hoarse and unfeeling. "But I can."
Mystique instantly began to change. Her hair grew to the floor in long ebony waves. Her nose, once small and upturned, grew sharp and slightly longer. Her fingers became gnarled, her fingernails long and sharp. Her clothes faded, darker and darker until they were as black as her hair. A full-length gown with silver spiderwebs adorning the sleeves hugged her body. Her face was older, more weathered, but not ugly; rather, she was still beautiful, yet a different, older person. The two eyes deep-set in her head glowed like red-hot embers. The contrast of the black gown and hair to the white landscape was unpleasant to John's eyes, but he couldn't tear himself from the sight of her eyes.
Suddenly, the new woman that stood before him raised her arms, her face serene. Instantly, the wind rose from a gentle breeze to a hard wind, then to a whirlwind. John could feel himself struggling, but there was nothing to hold onto. He cried out, but his voice was lost in the whistling of the vicious winds. Throughout, the woman remained serene, her long hair whipping her high cheekbones. Instantly, John figured it out.
The Dark One!
Mystique was the Dark One!
****
Pain. All enveloping, breath taking pain. John sucked in an eager breath. Too eager. He coughed terribly, something liquid dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He moved his hand to wipe it away, but found his hands shackled at his sides. Fully awake now, he tested his bonds. They were solid, unbreakable. His ankles were bound the same, flattening him straight against a hard steel table that was at a forty-five degree angle from the floor. He was able to wipe his chin on his shoulder, and when he looked at the soft cloth, he saw a bright stain of crimson. He grimaced. That was a bad sign.
He looked down at his body. His clothes had been changed, altered to fit the time and/or place. He wore a tight, brown, leather vest, a dark green shirt with full sleeves, tight leather pants of the same shade of brown, and leather boots that rose to right below his knees. He felt like one of Robin Hood's Merry Men. John lay his head back against the cool table, succumbing to another coughing spell. Again he wiped his chin on his sleeve, the crimson splotch spreading. Lifting his head carefully, he surveyed his surroundings.
The table he lay on was in the middle of a room that was about twenty by twenty feet. A beam of light shone from an unknown source above, the circle of light not extending far from the table, yet barely outlining various aspects of the room. The walls were twenty feet long and about ten feet high, consisting of stones that varied in size and color. John squinted into the darkness, thankful that his captor - whoever that was - had left him his glasses. A long table was barely visible in the darkness beyond the circle of light; on it was food, bottles of potions, various sundry items.
Tired and dizzy at only this small movement, John resigned to his fatigue and slowly closed his failing eyes.
****
"That's it? That's a Chosen One?" Ringo looked terribly shaken. Liryl nodded, still staring at him as if he were a god. Actually, according to her, he was.
Liryl had explained that in their religion, anyone with an incredible amount of magery was called a Chosen One; a favorite of the gods. This explained the high aptitude for magery. However, one could accumulate such power by coming into contact with the Raenth, the magic relic the Fab Four were seeking. According to Liryl, there was only one other known Chosen One; the Dark One. She had been chosen as a favorite of the gods before she was even born. Alas, she abused her magic, using it for evil. This had ultimately caused the downfall of the one thing she held most dear; her son. She adopted an apprentice, a young orphaned mute, and raised her and taught her telepathy and limited magery. The two were bent on revenge, but the mother more so than the daughter. Both were revered and feared, banished by the gods to live in the castel in the lonely Ramshorn Mountains.
Ringo listened to all this silently and in awe, not quite sure what to say. He was a god! A god! He didn't feel like one. Somehow, this didn't seem as wonderful as he expected it should have. He stood up shakily, helped Liryl up, then continued to melt George's bonds.
Ringo's hands glowed red-hot as he waved them over George's frozen chest. Liryl watched with interest, but Ringo noticed that she was not staring at him so much staring at George. He smiled absently to himself. For once, George might get the girl. It was better for Paul anyway. He still had his Jane.
"Ow! Owowow!" Ringo snapped back to reality, realizing that he had freed George, but was accidentally burning him. He hastily pulled his hands away.
"Sorry, Geo…" He quickly wove another healing spell of white sparkling particles. When he was finished, George, folding his wings carefully on his back, walked over to the statue that was Paul. He smiled faintly, tapping Paul's raised fist with one long finger.
"Hmm…Paul on the rocks, please…" Ringo sighed, but smiled. Liryl just stared at George, who noticed this and shifted nervously. Ringo motioned for him to come closer, turning his back to the young lady.
"Uhm…George…I think this young lady has taken a fancy to you…" George grinned.
"Is that so?" He snuck a quick peek over his shoulder; sure enough, Liryl was still looking at him, but quickly turned away when he looked at her. He turned back to Ringo.
"I see…it's better for her, anyroad. He's not about to give up Jane anytime soon. His pride'll be hurt, but he'll live." Ringo nodded, agreeing. They both returned to Paul and Liryl, who was pretending to be very interested in the grass underneath her bare feet. George smiled at her, and she was quick to smile back. Ringo laughed softly as he wove the crystal disenchantment. The shimmering barrier encasing the Beatle began to melt, and slowly Paul came back to life. He glared at Ringo, then at George. Not saying anything, he folded his arms and pursed his lips. The two other Beatles sighed. Earlier, tensions had been low, kept happy by the novelty of newfound magic; now, the novelty had worn off. They wanted to go home.
Ringo checked his watch, then scanned the horizon. "Hey, where's John? It's half past nine; he was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Wonder what's keeping him…"
"Bet he's picked up a girl, too," George spat bitterly. Liryl put her delicate hand on his bare shoulder, and he relaxed. Paul caught this, looking half relieved, half put out. They smiled at each other sweetly. Paul stifled a giggle. He looked to Ringo, but his vertically less endowed band mate was concentrating hard on a bowl of water that had just appeared out of nowhere. His eyes were closed, and he was mumbling John's name as he waved his hands over the water. He opened his eyes, peering into the bowl. As he did so, his jaw dropped.
"Uh, lads? I think we have a problem…"
The others, including Liryl, who was sheltered under George's arm, peered into the bowl.
"Holy shit…" Paul breathed. George opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
John was shackled to a table, dressed in strange clothing. Paul joked that he looked like a reject from Robin Hood, but the others weren't listening. They were trying to figure out the young woman fussing over him. John appeared to be asleep, and the woman was wiping his face with a soft cloth. She came away with the cloth, and the shocked onlookers could see that it was stained with blood. Ringo pulled the view out a little, capturing the woman's face. The three Beatles drew a blank, but the young woman gasped.
"The Dark Apprentice!" She cried, turning to bury her face into George's shoulder. Ringo pulled the veiw out even further, trying to get an idea of where their fourth mate was. Eventually, he pulled out to a large throne room of an abandoned castle, a woman of about forty five sat wearily in the chair, her weathered face supported by her long fingers. At this sight Liryl yelped.
"Your friend is doomed! The Dark One has him! He is doomed! Doomed!" George took her by the shoulders, shaking her gently.
"Get a hold of yourself, Liryl! Shhh!" He hugged her, and she quieted, looking less frazzled. He held her out at arm's length after a moment. She sniffed, then smiled weakly.
"Hey, lookit this, lads!" They returned to the bowl, where a very different sight could now be seen.
An enormous castle, nestled deep between two mountains, was framed by a large gathering of stormclouds. Liryl shuddered, whispering, "The Lair…Ramshorn Mountains…" George, Ringo, and Paul looked at her excitedly.
"You know where that is?" Paul asked eagerly. She nodded warily. George looked deep into her blue eyes.
"Can you take us there, luv?" Liryl's eyes grew wide, and she shook her head vehemiantly.
"It is death to all who dare to enter! And that includes your friend!" Ringo shook his head.
"It doesn't look like he went there willingly. John can be crazy sometimes, but he's not stupid." The others, save Liryl, agreed. She still looked wary. George took her aside.
"Liryl," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He's our closest friend. We're going, whether you come or not. You might as well help us; we'd have a better chance that way." Liryl looked like she was about to cry, but solemnly nodded her head. George hugged her tight.
"Everything will be just fine. You just wait."
On to Chapter Ten!
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