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His tall, emaciated frame rose slowly from the stone. A curtain of dark hair framed a gaunt face, and his sunken eyes
opened to reveal irises a shade of black that seemed to absorb the little light there was.
Slowly blinking, when he reopened his eyes, he started taking in his surroundings. He was laid on a large slab of granite
on top of a marble dais. Both were covered in runes that were gently pulsing with a soft yellow light. The smooth floor
of the cavern had a glassy sheen to it, up to the large pentagram enclosing him, drawn in what looked like lead, or tin.
He closed his eyes again, and gave his head a slight shake.
Eight hundred years of sleep, and im still...so...tired... No, I must stay awake. Apparently this incompetent on the
floor hasn't unravelled all of the webs encasing me.
Putting the pressure to sleep to the back of his mind, von Rosenbech's gaze travelled past the pentagram and the man
cowering on the floor, to the walls. They were also covered in runes like the ones on the platform, but their light had died.
Obviously the more serious ones, he decided.
Torches in iron brackets cast a flickering pool of reddish light around themselves, and he could feel the small traces of
magic emanating from them.
Hm. Must be permanent features.
Having taken stock of his surroundings, he looked back at himself. Noticing that not an inch of his almost skeletal seven
foot frame was clothed, he glanced at the man on the floor, who was clutching a bundle of clothes like they were a bottle
of salty water in the desert.
'C- c- clothes, my lord?' he squeaked.
'Clothes,' affirmed Lord von Rosenbech, his voice harsh and guttural after centuries of disuse.
The man came forward, and held them up in front of him, eyes averted firmly downwards. Von Rosenbech found a pair of long
black cotton trousers, and a black silk shirt, the cuffs adorned with a small rim of black lace. Dressing slowly, his
muscles stiff, he finished with a pair of black stockings and high black leather boots, three silver buckles on the leg.
Stretching, he stepped down from the plinth, and started towards the man, now in the corner picking up a coat and sheathed
sword. Turning, the man helped him into his long black woollen coat, and laid the sword across his outstretched hands.
Gripping the silver inlaid black scabbard in his left hand and the black leather wire bound hilt in the other, he slowly
drew them apart. The steel emerged, gunmetal grey, its surface roiling like it was afflicted with all the torments in the
underworld. He ran his finger down the blade, and it turned jet black. When he removed his finger, it returned to its
original roiling state once more.
'Who are you?' The words were a request rather than a command, but the man flinched as though struck. However, when he
spoke, his voice was firm.
'I, lord? I am merely your servant, to do with as you will.'
Hmm, Rosenbech thought with some small amusement, it looks like hes going to grovel anyway. Well, i shall fulfil
his expectations.
Out loud, he said: 'Im sure I shall. What were your intentions, waking me?
'I heard you were a legend, half forgotten over the centuries. So, I came to investigate, and found you as you were. I was
happy to be able to help.'
'Interesting. So, what were your plans once I had woken?'
'Well, to tell you the truth, I had none. I'm in somewhat of a predicament. Politics back home, I'm sure you understand.'
'Ah. Where are we?'
'In the lower Curassyn, my lord, about 150 leagues from the western edge.'
'I see. Well, if thats everything taken care of, shall we be considering our next move?'
'Certainly, lord. I know of some ancient dwarven mining tunnels approximately a couple of days walk from here. They will
give us protection from the chancing weather while we think.'
'Very well, let us go.'
Von Rosenbech checked his sword was clear in its scabbard, and stepped carefully across the lead pentagram. Slightly
relieved at the distinct lack of vengeful guardian spirits appearing out of the floor, he made his way over to where his
rescuer was waiting to go back up the tunnel to the outside world.
'Nothing else to do?'
'No, my lord. All necessary wards have been broken or deflected.'
'Good,' said Rosenbech, and set off, leaving the man to scurry after him.
***
© Robert Taylor 2007
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