Castlevania: Trials (3/27)
Title: Trials
By: PatriciaTepes (AKA Patricia de Lioncourt @ fanfiction.net; PatriciaLouise @ TTH)
Chapter Title: Master of Old
Link to Chapters: Prologue Chapter One
Fandom: Castlevania
Rating: Pg-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Castlevania, any related characters, or the images used below. Yes, Aly (of Aly & AJ fame) is my model for my main OC. But please, don't let my inability to draw hinder your imagination, as Ria really doesn't look exactly like that. :)
Summary: Sequel to Untested. Ria's survived the first test of her abilities inside Castlevania itself. However, when a new, more powerful baddie appears, looking for the key to Castlevania's power, is she in over her head?
Notes: In total, there will be four stories in this saga. The first is called "Untested," this one is "Trials," then "Tribulations." I'll reveal the name of the fourth one in the future. Until then, enjoy!
Chapter 2: Master of Old
Moments Earlier
The sounds of chanting in a language of old rose up through the trees that formed Eternal Night, as a group robed in black and gold entered the ruins of Castlevania. Their clothing looked like that of someone from Ancient Egypt, with the gold neck collars, the cut of the black, flowing cloth, and the style of the golden sandals that clad their feet. They walked in a line, the first of them wearing the mask of a jackal. The next in the line of the Egyptian cult was bearing the symbol of a column around his neck that looked, if there had been any casual observer, like a bad rendering of a backbone. The two leaders, as it seemed that both had equal power, broke off as they reached the spot where the Throne of Dracula had once sat. They turned to their followers, all clothed in the same, black Egyptian style-only without the symbols, and pointed to the now empty spot.
The followers were marching in behind two by two, carrying what appeared to be an enormous golden staff. The weight of it must have been great, for the followers, occasionally, grunted with the effort of moving it. However, they made no other protests against their burden. At the back of their line, where the ornament-a giant, silver bulb-of the staff was, the members of the Egyptian cult crowded beneath it to hold it.
"Place it in the ground, here," the leader with the jackal head ordered.
The group behind him made no verbal reply, but set to doing their ordered tasks. With grunts and groans, they managed to put the bottom tip of the staff on the ground-now exposed due to the Throne's absence-and push it up. Next, they surrounded it and pulled, hard, down on the long golden rod, planting the staff as deep into the ground as it would go. They stepped back as soon as their work was done. The leader bearing the backbone symbol nodded in approval.
"Excellent. Stand back and form the circle," Jackal Head said.
The cult did as they were told, their chant picking up once again. They all, as one, and at least twenty feet back from the staff, fell to their knees around the staff. They looked up to it in reverence, placing their hands together as if in prayer with their elbows bent, raising them over their heads, spreading them wide so that they were held out in a "T" shape with the palms up, then finally starting the move again. Over and over they did this, their chants rising in volume and vigor each time.
The leaders, meanwhile, had moved back from the gigantic staff, which reached easily a hundred feet over their heads, but had not joined the circle. Instead, their backs were to the other cult members, and they seemed to be basking in the chant itself. The bearer of the backbone symbol's black eyes were wide and shining in the night, and his long, braided black hair was beginning to move in a breeze that seemed to be slowly working itself up. He glanced over at his Jackal companion and grinned wickedly. The Jackal nodded in response. He raised his hands up high.
"It is time," he boomed to his followers.
If possible, the chanting grew even faster. The Jackal's partner knelt while he remained standing.
"We call upon the power of Anubis," the Jackal cried.
"And the power of Osiris," his kneeling partner joined in.
"We wish the crossing of our master! Release he who was imprisoned by his foes!" the Jackal snarled up at the staff.
"The one that would be Master of All!" cried the partner.
"Rise!" the group cried in unison.
The chanting was picked up for another round, with the two leaders simply standing there. The wind was brutal now, all the robes of the followers being pressed against their forms. However, the chanting was not interrupted. Again, as they seemed to reach the end of their mantra, they shouted, as one, "Rise!"
Again and again they did this, and each time the wind blew harder. The dirt that surrounded the staff began to stir up and form a dust cloud, but the conviction of the cult could not be swayed. With each shout of "Rise," the earth seemed to tremble. Finally, the trembling did not stop. The horizon rose in flames and seemed to try and consume the moon, and a giant hand shot out of the ground, grasping the staff.
The leader that was still standing fell to the ground, prostrating himself before the hand. The hand, for its part, looked mostly skeletal, with only a smattering of muscle and decaying skin upon it…and it was clad in golden armor that seemed to match the staff perfectly. Following the hand was an arm, then a shoulder…and, finally, a head.
The head of the creature was terrifying. It looked like a decaying jackal in itself, but still not quite. Its jagged sharp teeth were showing in what looked like an eternal snarl and it wore a gold headdress with a single, silver horn and several sliver cylinders projecting themselves from the back of it. As the creature rose further out of the ground, taking the staff with it as it finally came to stand at its full height-which was two times the length of its own staff-it seemed to have a vaguely reptilian feel to it, as its stomach seemed to be covered in scales. This was no creature of God's creation. The rest of its body seemed to be covered in the smattering of muscle and dead skin, as well as the golden armor, which seemed to have an Egyptian feel to it. The armor only covered the creature's upper torso and its groin area, with a blue and gold cloth falling from the armor there. Its knees were clad in spiked armor, with two rings encircling each ankle. Its legs ended in two clawed feet. And when it looked down upon the cult that had raised it, its eyes glowed a hellish green.
The two leaders looked up at what they had raised in reverence.
"Lord Galamoth, we praise you. King of Time, the gods, and the Netherworld," the Jackal said before lowering his head once more.
"I have not yet achieved the Netherworld," the creature-Galamoth-growled, his voice guttural and much like a beast's might be if it could achieve human words.
"But you shall, our Dark King, the time is ripe," the other leader said, grinning upward.
Galamoth growled softly, more like a "hmm," and looked around at his surroundings. He recognized this place…it was unmistakable even though it was in ruins.
"How…did you raise me? Dracula sealed me in his castle, be it risen or not," he said, addressing his cult.
"Oh mighty Galamoth, the Throne…the Throne of Dracula was removed, allowing your resurrection. All signs are ready for you…it is time for you to take your rightful place as the true Dark Lord, and overthrow the usurper Dracula," the unmasked leader shouted up at his master.
At this, Galamoth's eyes snapped downwards and locked with the leader of the cult.
"The Throne is missing?" he demanded.
The leader who had spoken blinked and nodded. "Yes, sire. It is gone. Now your will may be done."
But Galamoth appeared to be in deep thought. He stared at his staff, which he had raised up to his eye level, and was slowly turning it around and around. Below, the cult looked around in confusion. Finally, their king stared back down at them.
"Where is the Throne?" he asked.
Now they stared around in fear. Finally, the unmasked leader-who seemed to have taken charge fully from the Jackal-shrugged.
"Forgive your incompetent servants, my king, for we know not where the Throne is," he said, bowing quickly.
The giant monster seemed to growl in annoyance.
"Never mind your prostrating. Find me the Throne, now!" he growled.
The two leaders blinked at them.
"But, my lord, your powers are great. Why would you need such a ridiculous symbol?" the Jackal asked.
Galamoth snarled and the cult cowered. The Jackal fell back into his prostrate position as Galamoth growled at them all.
"Never mind. Find it, and bring it to me!!" he shouted.
"Yes, Lord Galamoth," the cult all muttered up to their master.
However, the Jackal, alone, stood. He stared around at his fellow cult members before finally looking back up at his unholy master.
"But, my lord, how should we ever find it? There's virtually no chance," he said.
Somehow, the snarl on Galamoth's face became an evil smile. He held his staff out over the Jackal and a single crack of purple lightning struck, incinerating the Jackal before he could even cry out. The cult gasped.
"Any more questions?"
The cult was quick to bow with no response. Galamoth laughed in a loud, barking way.
"Go…go," he said as the cult began to disperse. "Bring me the Throne of the usurper Dracula…so that the world might despair!"