THE LIGHT OF TRUTH by Chirugal
Rating: It's starting off pretty low, but I'm pretty sure it'll end up higher. For some unknown reason, with me, it always does…!
Disclaimer: Tomb Raider and all related characters are copyright of Core Design and (sigh) Eidos. Yes, I'm still in denial over the Crystal Dynamics move.
Author's Note – This is a SEQUEL. I'm going to be referring to things that've happened in This Is Business, so go read that first, or risk slight confusion in places. It also takes place only a couple of months after the end of Angel of Darkness, so it's still set in 2003. So don't jump on me over Lara's age. In 2003 she was 35. :p
She could see, but only just. No matter how hard she squinted into the gloom, she couldn't make out any detail. She had a vague impression from the acoustics that she was in a stone-walled, high-roofed chamber, but apart from that…
There was something there with her, she could tell. One hand twitched towards a thigh-holster that held no weapon and then fell back, still empty. She was defenceless–
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a spark and wheeled towards it, desperate for any advantage against whatever lurked in the darkness with her. And immediately wished she hadn't.
Veins of jade fire threaded their way through the rock walls of the cavern, sending a sickly green glow to banish the shadows. Even before they reached their destination, the pedestal at the opposite end of the room, Lara knew who would be standing there.
Standing there with a sardonic smile and a spherical object clutched in his hands, ready to place into the pedestal...
05:27. The numbers of the digital clock shone into Lara's grainy, exhausted eyes as she reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp. And the same nightmare again.
It was ridiculous. Three weeks had passed since she'd returned home, with considerable relief, from Turkey. In that time she'd been awoken at least twice a week by the nightmares that had started in a hotel in a tiny village a hundred miles north of Cappadocia, and had persisted in hounding her since. It was ridiculous – she was thirty-five, for god's sake, not five – but she'd been unable to shake the dread and revulsion her encounters with Joachim Karel and the Nephilim had left her with.
She exhaled, the breath holding only the barest quiver, and dug around under her pillow for the Desert Eagle she knew would be there. Its weight in her hands was comforting, and she shook her head to dislodge the remainder of the unease the dream had left her with.
It was at times like these she really missed Kurtis.
And there she went again.
Irritation banished Lara's disorientation, and she scowled. If it wasn't one thing, it was the other – thoughts of the Nephilim, or thoughts of Kurtis, her... her what, exactly? Whatever he was, her mind turned to him far too often, leaving her confused, pissed off, and – as much as she hated to admit it – lonely.
It was a feeling she wasn't used to, and loathed intensely.
There's no point in even trying to go back to sleep. Frustrated, Lara rolled out of bed and left the bed unmade, wandering the silent corridors of Croft Manor in search of hot tea and something to read. Anything to take her mind off a certain American.
Winston found her in her study three hours later, halfway through a paperback she hadn't absorbed a word of. "Are you alright?"
The concern on his kindly face was obvious. Lara nodded wearily and tried a smile. "Just a few bad dreams." She accepted the fresh pot of tea and morning paper from him with a nod of thanks, and watched her old friend shuffle from the room.
She had no more luck with the paper than she did the novel. Her restless eyes roamed the page, but she took in only the usual clichéd phrases: heartbreaking tragedy, extraordinary courage, strength in adversity. Her attention was still fixed on Karel's triumphant features as he held up… what? That was what she needed to know. For a split-second, whilst she'd been dreaming, she could have sworn she recognised whatever it was he was holding. Upon waking, she'd lost it, but something told her it was important.
Shaking her head, Lara turned the page, dismissing the notion as paranoia. Karel was dead – this time, she was sure of it. He'd been human when he'd died, and by the time Kurtis had finished with him he'd been half-decapitated. So why was she still so convinced her dream was more important than any of the others she'd had?
Stop it. Scowling at the newsprint, she took a gulp of tea and searched for an article to distract her. This far into the paper, the stories took up barely half a column each, with the odd tiny picture for emphasis. 'Orphans Raise £200 for Children's Charities', one headline informed her. Below it was a picture of three children, all grinning into the camera. The caption gave the names of the kids – Charlotte Morgan, Tom Walker, and Alessa Limoux.
Lara almost knocked her tea off the arm of the chair. Limoux… What are the odds? An underwater plaque flashed into her mind's eye – two warriors with swords crossed, the initials 'L' and 'V' above them. The Lux Veritatis families Limoux and Vasiley.
Don't be stupid, Croft. Go back to France, check a phone book, there are probably thousands of families with that surname.
But what if…?
During her Turkish adventure, Lara had visited a young woman for information, arriving just hours too late to prevent her murder. Amara Khayam and her three year old daughter, Nabila, had been butchered by Karel, and it was only after the fact that Nabila's Lux Veritatis powers came to light. If she had lived, Kurtis would not have been the last.
Lara was willing to believe that other children existed who carried the power. Children whose parents were killed in the final purge of the Lux Veritatis that Kurtis had told her about, and overlooked due to Karel's arrogance.
She stared at the monochrome photograph, at the dark-haired girl who dutifully smiled for the camera. Was it just her imagination, or was there a touch of melancholy to the child's eyes? Did she possess the Lux Veritatis abilities, and if she did, how much of a strain were they on her?
If left unchecked, this Alessa could become a danger to those around her. She should investigate before the girl inadvertently killed someone.
For the beginning of October, the weather was surprisingly decent – bright sunshine and only a slight breeze. Lindfield House was an average-looking building in an average-sized town, around twenty minute's drive from the northern city of Leeds.
Lara pulled the Jeep to a stop just down the street from the orphanage and got out immediately, keen to stretch her legs after the five-hour drive. As she locked the vehicle and began to walk back down the pavement towards her destination, the sense of foreboding that had nagged at her that morning returned.
Her appointment was in ten minutes. Over the phone, she'd styled herself as interested in fostering a child, which a tiny part of her found hilarious in itself. Throughout the drive up, she'd felt it crouching at the back of her head, laughing hysterically at the notion that she would even pretend to be a good, responsible role-model.
But what else could she do?
High railings much like those on a school playground encircled the grounds of Lindfield House, and on the other side Lara glimpsed running, shrieking figures. Small boys playing football, young girls skipping or gathered in groups, whispering and giggling. It looked like hell disguised as paradise. Life lived behind bars.
As she approached, Lara slowed. There's no way I'm going to be able to do this. Her eyes cast over the children of assorted ages, and lit on one who stood apart from the others, her eyes wistfully following the activities going on around her.
Maybe I won't have to. She had a sneaking suspicion she'd just found her girl. Alessa was tall for her age – which, according to the paper, was thirteen – but hunched over as if trying to avoid notice. She leaned against the railings with her back to the street, quietly observing the football game going on a few yards away.
Lara took a deep breath, well aware that she'd have to be careful. These days, people didn't take kindly to grown adults lurking in the shadows, trying to catch the attention of young children. Before she lost her nerve, she approached a conveniently placed bench that faced out into the street and sat down, pulling a study of ancient Peru from her backpack and feigning nonchalance.
"Alessa." The railings were about five feet behind her, but she hoped the playground noise wouldn't drown out the sound of her voice completely. She listened for a response, but got none. "Alessa Limoux?"
She heard a rustle of cloth, and an indrawn breath. "Huh? D'you say something?" a voice asked her tentatively.
Lara risked a glance over her shoulder, to find the girl staring at her, expression wary. At least she had her attention.
"I need a word with you – could you look as if we're not talking, please? I don't want to get chased off by the supervisors."
For a second, she could have sworn she saw Alessa's lips twitch, as if denying a smile. But the moment passed, and she nodded and turned her back to Lara. She seemed curious at least – good.
"Who're you?"
"My name's Lara Croft. I saw your name in the paper this morning, and…" Lara trailed off. How was she supposed to phrase it? Alessa, by any chance are you a member of the Lux Veritatis?
On the other side of the railings the child was silent, waiting, but Lara sensed her suspicion.
No other way to do it. "You might think I'm slightly mad, but by any chance… can you do anything the other kids can't? Anything unusual?" The phrasing was over-vague, but the sharp intake of breath behind her reassured her she was on the right track. She risked another glance behind her to find a pair of wide eyes fixed on her face.
"How'd you know? Are you from social services? Did Philippa tell you to come and take me away? Because I swear I didn't push Charlotte down the stairs, I swear…" Alessa's voice broke mid-tirade, and her eyes filled with tears.
Lara was at a loss as to what to do with a crying child. Quickly, she shook her head. "I'm not from social services. I'm an archaeologist."
To her credit, Alessa pulled herself together almost immediately. "Then what…?" she asked, her brow crinkling with confusion.
"I know there are things out there that most people don't believe in. I think I know why strange things happen around you, and I know someone who can help you get them under control." He'd better agree to this…
Hope sparked in the depths of forest-green eyes. "Really?" As if a switch had been flipped, she sobered again. "Charlotte was being a bitch, and something just clicked in my head… and she fell backwards down the stairs. She had a concussion and three ribs broke. I thought I'd… killed her." The girl swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. "It wasn't the first time something like that'd happened, neither."
Sympathy stirred in Lara's mind. The haunted expression on the girl's face would have touched anyone. "Look. I can't do anything while you're in there. Is there any way you can get out?" Add kidnapping to my ever-growing list of crimes…
Alessa shook her head. "They keep a close watch on us. Too many runaways over the last couple'a months." She indicated a couple of middle-aged women chatting over cups of coffee in the doorway. "They'd call the police straight away if I ran away with you."
"What about after lights out?"
She made an uncertain motion with her hand. "Risky. Some of the older lads have been trying to break out, so they got 'special dispensation' to put CCTV in the corridors. Whatever that means."
Lara hesitated. Was she really about to say this? How could she possibly take care of a child when she could barely stay out of danger for long enough to sleep?
The memory of Karel's victorious face in her dream decided her. The role of the Lux Veritatis was far from over. She couldn't have explained how she knew, but she was somehow certain of it. Kurtis was going to need all the help he could get.
"We'll take care of the cameras."
"And the locks?"
"And the locks." She paused. "Look out here every evening. If you see a bit of white cloth snagged on one of these railings, that means you have to be ready to get out. We'll come after midnight."
Alessa nodded, frowning. "Why can't you just ask them if you can foster me?"
"I have a criminal record as long as your arm. Never served any time for it, but I'd still be refused." Lara studied the teenager's face for alarm, but all she got was a philosophical shrug.
"Can't be any worse than some of the foster homes I've been in." Her gaze slid away and then back to Lara, and for a split-second the woman glimpsed the desperation in her face.
For the entire journey back to Croft Manor, Alessa's willingness to trust Lara nagged at her. She'd heard nightmare tales about foster parents who selected children with abuse in mind, and she could understand her concern that she might hurt someone if left untrained, but Alessa had been so accepting it was just too easy. There must be a factor the girl hadn't told her about.
Ah, well. She'd worry about that later. First she had to tackle a significant obstacle that lay ahead of her – explaining the situation to Kurtis. Lara was sure he'd be about as enthused about caring for Alessa as she was.
By the time she'd settled herself back at home, it was ten o' clock in the evening. Not bothering to work out time differences – she had no idea where in the world he was, anyway – she moved to the phone and picked up the receiver.
Three digits into dialling, she hesitated. It was five days before she and Kurtis had agreed to meet in Paris, back where she'd first laid eyes on him. In the three weeks since she'd seen him last, she hadn't heard from him, or made an effort to contact him. It was a kind of unspoken agreement between them that they'd use the time to think, and to work out what it was they wanted from each other.
She'd spent unhealthy amounts of time each day trying to do just that, and still come to no conclusions. Yes, she missed his company – understatement – and a couple of times Bryce, her systems expert, had even accused her of pining. But at the same time, images of domestic bliss didn't sit at all well with either of them, even when those images didn't include an illegally 'fostered' girl with no control over her telepathy.
He was just going to have to get used to it.
Her stubborn streak standing her in good stead, she cancelled the number and started it again, pushing the final button before she could talk herself out of it.
The phone seemed to ring for a long time. What was Kurtis doing? Lara could imagine him running down back alleys with his Boran X drawn, too busy dodging enemies to answer. The image brought a nostalgic smile to her lips for a second.
Or maybe he was sitting in a chair somewhere, the ringing phone in his hand, staring at the caller-ID that identified her as the one trying to reach him. Wondering if he should pick it up.
She was about to give up, her thumb poised over the disconnect button, when the ringing at the other end ceased. A click, followed by a voice she would have recognised anywhere. "Lara?"
Score one for the staring at the phone scenario, then. For some reason, the notion hurt, but she brushed it off. "How are you?"
She could imagine vividly the noncommittal shrug that accompanied his words. "Same old. You?"
What could she say? And why did this feel so awkward? She decided to get straight to the point. "I have some news for you." Without allowing him to get a word in, she told him what had transpired that day.
When she finished, there was a long silence on the line. Lara waited, steeling herself for an argument. She didn't expect the quiet chuckle that reached her ears.
"What?" she asked, a little thrown.
"Unbelievable."
You can say that again, she thought, but bit it back. "I didn't expect you to be so calm."
"I wouldn't say I was thrilled at the prospect, but…" His voice took on a serious edge. "I have a feeling I'll end up thanking you for this."
Before she could stop herself, Lara asked, "Bad dreams?"
In her mind, she could visualize his reaction as perfectly as if he were sitting in the same room: how his gaze would sharpen as he leaned forward in the chair, all his attention on her. "What makes you say that?"
"Been having a few myself." She heard the uneasiness behind the casual air to her own voice, hated it. She was no Lux Veritatis member – so why was she treated to visions of the Nephilim?
He exhaled slowly; she'd given his suspicions foundation. "Let's move our meeting forward."
End of first chapter. And yup, this one's gonna be an epic. Let me know what you think, and for god's sake be honest(!)