‘And today started so well,’ she thought to herself as she managed to get her
feet back under herself. Heaving her sword, she blew out a sharp puff of air to
push a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. Under her boots, the shards and grit
made a crunching noise that echoed off every surface.

Her opponent tracked her motion through sight and sound. Beneath the tangled
knots of grey hair, grey eyes watched her every move.

‘How old is he?’ she found herself wondering. ‘Who is he?’

One glance at the reliefs that covered the walls of the tomb gave her some
idea. Her Immortal challenger was obviously someone who had done something
worthy of being buried in a locked metal casket in a cave in the side of a
remote mountain. Who knew how long he had been trapped in a cycle of starvation
and resurrection before he had been released?

Lara had come, following the babbled instructions broadcast by a terrified
dig assistant over the open radio frequency. She had been travelling down to
visit the monastery near the river, but could not ignore a plea for help.

She had arrived to find an empty camp and a trail of blood leading into this
very tomb. The archeologists working this dig had unearthed and opened the
casket, releasing the trapped Immortal and causing their own deaths.

Now she was fighting to ensure that she didn’t join them. He may have been
locked in a box for centuries, but he still knew how to fight. Lara found her
skills being tested to her limits as she engaged him in another fierce round.

The ground was slippery beneath her boots, the loose pebbles making it feel
like she was walking on ball bearings. Her opponent was relentless, releasing on
her an unknown eon of torment.

Lara was rapidly becoming rather pissed off.

Again he brought his sword down in another punishing attack, but this time
Lara changed tactic, twisting her blade and locking their weapons together at
the guards. She was close enough to smell him, and the fumes rising off his body
made her eyes water. Ignoring the slight sensation of burning, she took half a
step backwards as she reached for her holsters. Even as the pistol cleared the
leather, he was shaking clear of the lock, preparing to charge again.

The report of the gun firing shook loose even more dirt from the ceiling. His
thrust went wild, scoring a deep gouge across the edge of her shoulder. His
sword clattered loudly on the stony floor as his two hands automatically pressed
themselves to the blossom of red that was staining the dust on his chest.

Lara shoved the pistol back into its holster and raised her weapon, ignoring
the pain in her arm. “There can be only one.”

The holocaust of a Quickening nearly reburied them both in the tomb.

~~##~~

“Lara,” a familiar voice greeted her as she walked up the steps to the
Temple. She looked up, tensing slightly as the monks’ Buzz washed over her
befuddled mind. “Are you well?”

“I…” she stuttered in the monks’ language. “I rather think I need to lie
down.” Giving in to the urge, Lara crumpled into a motionless heap on the cool
stone steps.

She awoke, dazed and disorientated, in a dim, candle-lit room. She sat up
slowly, pausing for a moment to regain her shattered equilibrium before rising
to her feet. Her sword, boots, guns and pack were piled in the corner. She
paused for a moment, then left them there. She was on holy ground, she could
feel it in her bones. She would have no need for weapons.

Barefooted, she walked across the floor and carefully slid back the bamboo
screen. Familiar dark eyes met hers as she stepped into the room. “Good
evening.”

Lara smiled self-consciously, glad to have found a friend here. “Good
evening, Seng.”

The old monk gestured for her to join him. As she settled to her knees, a
young man in the attire of a novice appeared bearing a tray of steaming cups.
Despite his robes, his face was clearly that of a Westerner. “Hello,” she said
to him in English.

He tried to smother his grin. “Hi,” he said in a clearly distinguishable
American accent.

Seng gave a small bow. “Lara, I would like you to meet my new pupil Darien.
Darien, this is my old friend Lara.”

Darien bobbed his head as he served. “Hello Miss Lara.”

Lara gave a smooth bow. “Darien.”

The young novice finished serving and withdrew slightly. Lara avoided Seng’s
gaze and instead sipped her tea.

“What happened, Lara?” Seng’s heavily accented English had a strange cadence
to it.

Lara finally looked up. “Do you know of a burial tomb, in the hills?” With
quick words, she described its location and setting.

Seng’s almond-shaped eyes were grave. “I know the tomb of which you speak.
Please tell me it has not been disturbed.”

Lara reminded silent.

Whispering a ancient prayer in his native tongue, Seng’s head dropped over
his folded hands. “How did you find it?”

“I didn’t. I merely caught an SOS from the archeological team digging there.”
She traced the intricate pattern on the side of the tiny cup with the pad of her
index finger. “When I arrived, I found what they had awoken.”

Seng nodded. “At least you escaped. We will need to find those scientists who
have escaped too. Then we will need to find a way to subdue the beast that they
have released.”

Lara shook her head. “No need for that last part.”

“What do you mean?” Seng had dropped back into Thai, obviously without
realizing his lapse.

“It was awake and it was angry. I couldn’t escape, so I fought. It was
strong, but it had been out of this world for too long.” Despite the seriousness
of the matter, she grinned. “I knew a trick it didn’t, and I won. Very nearly
buried myself under the landslide it triggered, but I somehow made it out and
came here.” Lara leaned forward into the space between them. “Who was he, Seng?
What did he do to deserve being buried alive?”

Now it was Seng who was avoiding her gaze. “It is of no matter if he is
defeated.”

“Seng!”

“No!” Lara blinked – she had never heard Seng use so sharp a tone before.
“Lara, he is dead now. It would do neither of us any good to…how would you say.”

“Rehash?”

Seng nodded. “Yes. Now, I have to go and report this to my superiors.” He
climbed nimbly to his feet. “Darin will tend to you.” Barely waiting, he turned
and moved out of the room.

Lara exhaled slowly, beginning to feel worried. She had never seen Seng react
like that before.

Who was the other Immortal?

“Miss?” The quiet question snapped her out of her musings.

“Yes, Darien.”

He looked like he was about to ask her one question, but then retreated to
another. “More tea, miss?”

With a fond smile, she held out her cup. “May I ask where you are from?”

He grinned. “Washington State, maam. But I’ve been living here with Master
Seng for about six months now.”

“How do you find monastery life?”

Darien’s eyes flicked towards the door as he lowered his voice
conspiratorially. “Honestly? I could kill for a Big Mac.”

Lara’s burst of laughter shattered the sobriety of the holy space. “If you’re
ever in London, I’ll have to see what I can do for you.”

Darien’s sigh was heartfelt. “I don’t think I’ll be allowed to leave the
Temple any time soon…Miss?”

Lara grabbed hold of the edge of the low table in an effort to steady herself
as a wave of images flooded her mind. An ornate, sweeping Temple, a monument to
the Gods and to life. The finely carved balustrades catching fire easily as the
flames licked their way along the walls. For one drawn out moment, Lara was
filled with a kind of erotic glee as the Temple burned. The books, the people,
the relics, the holiness itself turned to ash as she watched.

Just as suddenly, she was back in the candle-lit room, Darien kneeling in
front of her, his hands on her shoulders, his face wide-eyed and confused.
“Miss, miss, are you alright? Should I fetch Master Seng?”

Shakily, she patted Darien’s shoulder. “No, that won’t be necessarily. But
more tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Serving didn’t distract him like she hoped it would. Darin broadcast his
concern simply in the way he looked at her every other second as if she were
about to collapse. Folding her hands in her laps to hide the tremors from the
novice Immortal, she forced a smile. “Tell me, Darien, how did you come to meet
Seng?”

As he launched into his story, she forced herself to listen with all her
attention. She ignored the internal roiling of the unsettled Quickening as her
opponent’s knowledge and power merged with her own. It would settle with time,
and she knew Seng would not push her out if she was unready.

If those images could be trusted, Seng would no doubt be watching her very
closely. For once, she would not reject such concern. None of them would want
the other man’s impulses to become apparent through her.

There was no way Lara was going to let a centuries old pyromaniac rule her
from the grave.

~fin~