Elithmar of Lothern wrote:Dragons are dumb, I'd much rather have a faithful great eagle or griffon (but preferably a chariot ).
Even if they are (and they are actually brighter then either eagles or griffons), you will at least always have someone nearby to roast your chickens and light your fires for you. Very handy. And it's hard to top a dragon BBQ.
@Headshot: Great reading as always. Lots of intrigue and backstabbing and different story threads. Curious to see how they all come together. I do feel for Tim. (young) women are the same everywhere. At least he did get a kiss.
Rod
For Nagarythe: Come to the dark side.
PS: Bring cookies!
Check out my plog
Painting progress, done/in progress/in box: 167/33/91
Check my writing blog for stories on the Prince of Spires and other pieces of fiction.
"I say the Eatainii were cheating - again." -Aicanor "Eatainian jerks…" -Headshot "It was a little ungentlemanly." -Aicanor (on the Eatainii) "What is it with Eataini being blamed for everything?" -Aicanor
Elithmar of Lothern wrote:You do realise that elves are mortal too, right?
You would admit that you are not invincible? Where is your pride?
[url=http://www.ulthuan.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=34506][i]Lord Elessehta Silverbough of Ar Yvrellion, Ruler of Athel Anarhain, Prince of the Yvressi.[/i][/url]
[quote="Narrin’Tim"]These may be the last days of the Asur, but if we are to leave this world let us do it as the heroes of old, sword raised against evil![/quote]
Then again, she hadn’t had a good day for a while now.
Aargh!! Of all the places of the Old World and New?! Of all the islands of man and Asur!! Why THIS island?! Why now?!!
Why….HIM?!
She threw herself from her bunk, and took the short step over to the sparse vanity and its waiting basin of water. She was in her cabin, the only private room aboard the Dawn Skipper; a tiny space in the aft next to the room shared by captain and navigator. It was a simple, unadorned place, with a bunk combined with sea chest, and the single vanity/table, as its only furnishings. Still her being offered it by the captain was an offer of graciousness and courtesy.
Not that Narrin’Tim, Shadow Warrior of the Host of Nagarythe, would know anything about either of those virtues!
She splashed water across her face and neck. It was cold, and fresh; not briny of the sea. Another courtesy of the captain and crew. She sighed, and untied her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror. She saw an elf maiden. Pretty, some said. She had always been pursued by the young men at the Tower where she studied. Some of them of noble birth. Not that she was anything of the sort. (Damn whatever Oakheart said!) She was just a country girl from the Finuval Plains. A girl with a talent for plants and growing things.
Though now she had over a decade of training at the fabled White Tower of Hoeth behind her. Years of hard tutoring into the most precise, and demanding, of the schools of magic: the secret lore of True Magic, known only to the Asur. And her mentor was one of the wisest and most respected in all the kingdoms, the Sage Lord Tiralya. His name commanded respect from Cothique to Lothern!
And in…Nagarythe. She remembered how he had finally told her of his own youth, many millennia before. And the apprenticeship he had served there. The apprenticeship rite that had become custom at the Tower: that all the students serve some years of ‘practical education’ using their magecraft in the service of the Crown. And a young Tiralya had gone to the war torn kingdom of Nagarythe. Under much duress, he had admitted to her in his office over the bitter herbal drinks he loved. He had raged and resisted! He didn’t want to go to that backwater of Ulthuan! A ‘bastion of savagery’, he had called it.
She remembered him smiling in his office, lost in memories so distant in time that few living could share, or even relate. He had gone to Nagarythe, to serve under the Lord of Shadows. And serve he had. And well. And somewhere, in those years serving, in the distant dark north, something had happened to Tiralya. He had left his heart in the Shadowlands….
And so it was that when her own time for the practical apprenticeship came up, he had quietly put in her name to be sent to Nagarythe. At the time she thought she was being punished! That one of her rivals at the Tower had conspired to besmirch her reputation, and ruin her prospects, out of jealousy and spite! No one went to Nagarythe for their practical! At least no one with any talent or future prospects! People went to Lothern. Or Ellyrion. Caledor even! To Avelorn, and the Everqueen’s court!
But Nagarythe?! Only fire and shadow wizards of no remarkable ability were sent there! To serve their time in the brutal northern warfare of ambush and being ambushed! Not her! Not a promising mistress of the True Magic.
Uggh!! She felt such shame at those memories. The arrogance of it. She pulled out her hair and ran her fingers through the tangles, before using her ivory-handled brush on it, trying to tame the wild curls. It needed a washing.
She sighed. And got the soap ready, and started splashing her head with the basin water. Her hair now damp and clingy, with rivulets of water running down her face. She looked again at the splattered mirror. It brought back a memory of Tiralya’s office, and the Saphery rain pelting the windows. She had just returned from disembarking at Cothique, and her last mission with the Host of Nagarythe. And…and she had been a ruin. Everything inside her had been jumbled up, tossed around, and broken into pieces. She had no idea who she was. Or what she meant.
And calm, gentle Tiralya had served her tea. Stoked up the fire. And talked of Nagarythe…. In his whispers of stories of the harsh life, but tender hearts of the people of the North, she gradually learned that that was where he had learned the most important lessons of all.
“And now you understand,” he had said.
Did she?! Did she??!!
Uggh. She lathered her hair, and scrubbed with a ferocity that the tangles didn’t deserve.
All she knew when she had come back to the tower from Cothique was a shattered emptiness! Because of some boy!! Some Narrin’Tim, Shadow Warrior of Nagarythe! And that hussy!!! The Princess of Chrace!
She had thought…. She had dared to hope. That despite everything. Their differences in education and interest, and temperament, and fortune. All the important things!! She had thought, as they wandered the Old World together, that she had found….love.
And when he had lay dying on the cold stone floor of that ancient temple. His blood and life dripping to feed the hunger of the ancient Druchii witchlord. Gods! She had felt her own heart and life torn away with his. And so she had done something she had promised never to; she had turned to the simple magic of her childhood. To the Jade Wind of Life. And she had breathed life back into his broken body, willing him to be, with every ounce of her soul.
Then scarce had she looked away but where should he be but locked mouth to mouth with that harpy!! That Chracian trollop! She of the too small leathers, and far too large chest!
Annalyth dunked her head in the basin, still raging with the memory. She had left the North; returned to the Tower, and her studies. Swearing to herself to never think of Nagarythe, or a stupid boy named Narrin’Tim ever again. But then whom should show up at the Tower some half year later with nary as much as a ‘by your leave!’, but Narrin’Tim, and once more he had just thrust himself into her life like a raging auroch.
She had thought she was over him. Had sworn off all foolish boys and their bows.
But somehow they had kissed….
And now she had done it again!
Arghh! She started toweling off her hair. She had come here, at least partly, to get him out of her thoughts. Four years since they last met, and she still couldn’t do it! It wasn’t seemly for an advanced student of the True Magic, a mistress of the 997 Meditations of Glass, to not be able to control her own mind! To constantly have those grey eyes and lopsided grin peering out of her subconscious!
After they had parted in Avelorn – as she knew they must! He to the North, and the Army of the Shadow Prince. Her to the South and her studies – she had tried hard to get ‘perspective’ on things. And every which way she thought about him, and her; just told her it was wrong. So very wrong. There was no way it could ever work. His life. His ambition. His education! All of it, wrong! He was a Shadow Warrior, for Asuryan’s Sake! One of the grim warriors who walked the line between life and death. And he could never be otherwise! And she… She had a future of study and teaching. Of rising perhaps someday to the ranks of Archmage of the Tower.
But damn it all! How he would creep into her thoughts in the deep hours of the night. Sometimes making her laugh with joy. Sometimes shed tears of anguish.
It was all stupid, and overly melodramatic! She glared at herself in the mirror. Yes, like those awful Eatanian romance ballads!
But the memories of him were too thick at the tower. She pressed Tiralya for this trip to the Dragon Isles. Happy for a change of scenery. Happy for some new light, and perspective, on herself. And Narrin’Tim.
And the jerk showed up here!
She gave up brushing her hair. Stupid curls; she hated them! And reached for a band to tie it all back. She stripped off her nightdress, and then quickly began to rinse her body.
It was so frustrating. Sometimes when she was deep in her work and studies, she had thought her over him. But seeing him again these past few days…. It felt like her insides were all jelly and molten wax all over again! And he acted like he didn’t even know that he was doing this to her! As if he could be so stupid! Oh he knew!! She was sure of it!
What type of girl did he think she was? Just to throw herself at him with the first smile, and utterance of that silly Nagarathi accent ‘Anna’lis’! He must think she was just another….. Another Chracian harlot!!
She seethed for a long moment. Then threw down the towel she had been using, and stomped over to the bunk, swinging it upwards to unveil the locker, and her things. She fumed as she threw her robes about.
But then yesterday…. It was just like before. While she had heaved and hawed, argued with herself every which way in the echoes of her mind about the captain’s choice. He…he had just taken one look at that poor mortal boy’s face, and….done the right thing. No thought. No lengthy diatribe concerning the hazards and benefits. No, Narrin’Tim, Shadow Warrior of the Host of Nagarythe, had just instinctively acted. Standing up for that friendless child….
And her heart had glowed once more. And he had seemed the best of Asur….
Oh gods! What to wear! Why am I such a fool?! She looked at the pile of robes in the trunk. Her eyes drifted to the unopened parcel in one corner. She flushed; she hardly remembered packing that. She reached out, and slowly unwrapped the parckage. Inside was a tiny thing of yellow silk. Tessa had bought it for her when they first arrived to the island, daring her to wear it. It was one of those two-piece gowns the native girls wore. Both parts of it were barely a palm-full. She flushed as she picked them up. The top was barely large enough to cover her bosom…. She flushed some more. Tessa was from Lothern. She had laughed and called Annalyth a ‘Saphery stick’ (and she knew that was only in partial reference to her height).
She held it out in front of her shocked by its slightness. But I suppose if I wear it, Tim might stop ignoring me…. She slipped it on. And standing there in front of the mirror in her little cabin, she felt more exposed than before when she had worn nothing. Her face was turning a deep pink, as was her neck. Ummm….. She reached back into her trunk and grabbed some of the wraparound skirts like the ones the local Asur wore, selected a blue one, and then tied that over the tiny bottom. There! That was better. At least a little!
She surveyed herself in the mirror, and at all the exposed skin. Surprised by her own brazenness, she turned and opened the door.
***
Tim was there of course, back at his spot at the ship’s fore, playing cards with his new fast friend. She wandered, casually, very casually, across the deck, keeping him in the corner of her eye. He noticed her. Looked up with a glance. Then back at his cards. And then jerked his head up again to stare wide-eyed! He dropped his cards, and his jaw. The cards to the deck; the jaw almost.
Good. She smiled to herself.
The manchild just glanced in her direction, seemingly unimpressed he redirected his attention to the cards that Tim had just spilled.
She slowly began drifting over to the pair. She noticed the crew of the Dawn Skipper was giving Narrin’Tim a wide berth today. She wasn’t surprised; it was one thing to hear about the Nagarathi Shadow Warriors in tale and legend. And boastfully compare the skill of the local rangers or wardens to those mythic figures. But it was another thing entirely to see a Shadow Warrior in all his deadly rage right before one’s eyes. It was a sight the colonial crew wouldn’t soon forget.
She walked towards the fore, trying to put a little of the ‘slink’ into her step, that Tessa had shown her. Tim’s eyes never left her; he was a statue, with only his eyes following her every step until she drew close. She could feel her neck flushing pink again. Time to stay steady, Annalyth, she reminded herself.
“Tim,” she greeted coolly, and sat down so that the mortal child was sprawled between them.
Tim just eeped something in response. Then cleared his throat and said a shy, “good morning”.
“Your turn,” the boy interjected.
“Uh, right,” Tim replied and fumbled for his spilled cards.
“Do you want to play too, Lady?” the manboy looked at her curious.
Tim had often tried to teach her. In those quiet hours at camp in Nagarythe, when she had wandered around with the Host, from battlefield to battlefield. But she had ignored him; always more interested in her books and studies, and not in silly games of chance. Thinking back on it, she realized she must have spent half her time in Nagarythe with her nose buried in a book. Not looking at anything around her.
And not trying to know anyone either….
Suddenly she made a decision. “I would like that,” Annalyth said with a smile, and looked upwards. Tim’s grey eyes were there. She faltered, and just stared for a moment, lost. “But…but I will need someone to teach me.”
***
The boy had soon been called away to do his shipboard duties, and Annalyth had stayed at the fore with Tim, and his cards. She learned to play. And while they did that they talked of small things. Old memories. People they both knew. Some stories of Nagarythe and Saphery. Or Tim would point out the things on the sea and islands nearby, marveling at the fecund life of the world around them. Sometimes she would even know the names of the fish or fowl, and would teach him. He was always impressed.
She found herself smiling. A lot. And didn’t even notice the powerful sun, until Narrin’Tim pointed it out, and set up a sheet in the rigging to provide her shade. They continued to play, until the afternoon began to grow dark….
Tim had slipped below deck to take his turn checking on the dragon’s eggs. Annalyth stayed at the front, and just tried not to think. About what it meant. Or the future. She just tried to focus on the feeling of happiness she felt right now.
But then there was a clatter. Tim’s head appeared from the hold opening.
“Anna’lis!” he called. “Come quickly!”
Panicked she crossed the deck in no time and clambered down into the dark interior. Tim was standing next to the eggs, and their brazier, pointing at them, dumbstruck.
She looked. In the dim glow she could see the top of the eggs beginning to crack!
“What do we do?!” Tim was looking at her wide-eyed.
She groaned. “Don’t look at me! I don’t know!”
“Ugh! Where’s a Caledorian when you need one?” he moaned.
“In Caledor!” she said with a roll of her eyes. Think, Annalyth. What was it? You read about these. Something in the History of Caledor the First….. What was it?
“Flame! Yes, flame!” she shouted. “In the History of Caledor the First, he wrote about how during the hatching the mother dragon breathes flame upon the nest. To help the hatchlings come forth!”
“Flame! Flame!” Tim stumbled around and grabbed at a lamp hanging off one wall.
“No! That’s not nearly enough,” Annalyth rebuked. “We need magical flame. Of great intensity!”
“Well,” he said and pointed back at the eggs. “What are you waiting for?!”
She rolled her eyes again. “What? You want me to do it right here? In the middle of our very wooden ship?”
“Right!” he nodded. “I’ll go tell the captain to take us to shore!!”
***
A few hours later, Annalyth threw herself down onto the blanket Tim had laid out for her, giving a spot of some comfort on the otherwise coarse, black-sand beach. The Dawn Skipper could be seen in the bay of the little islet, some ways out, illuminated by its forelamp and the light of the newly risen moon.
Tim sat nearby, staring at the large bonfire that she had conjured and spent the hours maintaining. He had a long stick in his hand. Occasionally he would reach out with it, and prod one of the little red hatchlings back into the flame; stifling their curiosity for the cold outside world, with a gentle bump to the nose. He looked equal parts tired and amazed. Otherwise the beach was deserted; the crew had elected to stay aboard their vessel and wait for word from the two outlanders on the success or failure of the hatching business.
Annalyth gathered up the blanket and went and lay it down next to where Tim sat. She sat down next to him softly, and folded her long legs to her side.
“I like the one with the twisty horns,” Tim said, prodding again. “It reminds me of my aunt.”
She smiled at that. Shyly, she let her hand slip out and caress his. “Tim,” she said softly. “You were wonderful today.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I didn’t do much. Just pulled on the shell of that one a little. You did all the hard work.”
She was smiling back at him. Her hand still carefully touching his. “No. I mean, not just today. But yesterday. I just wanted to say it. How wonderful you are,” she flushed, and turned her face, filled with embarrassment.
But then he reached out and gently turned her head, and they were kissing, for the third time.
And then, when he softly pushed her down upon the blanket, she decided that maybe just this once, she wouldn’t worry what a proper Saphery maiden should do….
***
Life in the colonies seems pretty nice to me!
[quote="Seredain"]Headshot, you are wise like Yoda[/quote]
"I say the Eatainii were cheating - again." -Aicanor "Eatainian jerks…" -Headshot "It was a little ungentlemanly." -Aicanor (on the Eatainii) "What is it with Eataini being blamed for everything?" -Aicanor
Headshot wrote:
“I like the one with the twisty horns,” Tim said, prodding again. “It reminds me of my aunt.”
You realy shouldn't put this sort of thing in. I keep getting funny looks from people while I'm sitting behind my monitor quietly laughing / giggling...
Headshot wrote:Life in the colonies seems pretty nice to me!
I knew you'd like it there. Lovely place, those colonies. And we have cookies too.
Rod
For Nagarythe: Come to the dark side.
PS: Bring cookies!
Check out my plog
Painting progress, done/in progress/in box: 167/33/91
Check my writing blog for stories on the Prince of Spires and other pieces of fiction.
It was a good day to be Narrin’Tim, Shadow Warrior of the Host of Nagarythe. It was the following morning, and the last of their journey north. The day had dawned gloriously, with perfect sapphire-blue skies, and placid turquoise seas. A few short hours voyage from the island that they had camped on saw them at a small, sandy cove, backdropped by a mélange of tree-palms and small wicker huts. It was a little fishing community, the Captain had explained, and also the shortest route to the free-city of Takarta; one could sail around the northern headlands, and the rocks and shoals across its tip, to find the city harbor, but that would take another half-a-day. From this little village rose ancient stone steps that led to the top of the forest rise, some three hundred feet above the village. And once over the rise, the great city of Takarta waited.
So expecting nothing other than a short walk and climb, Narrin’Tim had disembarked with only Anna’lis, and the little mortal child, Kim, to act as guide and interpreter. They took only their few belongings, two skins of water, and a pair of baskets to hold the extremely curious, and vocally so, hatchlings. Tim had one strapped to his back; it contained the little one with the twisty hornes; ‘Narrin’Rema’, he nicknamed it, in honor of his aunt. And he had to keep his eyes on it: once already he had caught it trying to gnaw on his bow.
They certainly didn’t seem to be such an impressive being right now, he mused. Though I suppose when I was a day old, no one thought much of me either. Maybe when it is forty feet long I will feel different about it, he thought as he gently pushed Rema’s snout back into the basket. His finger was rewarded with a puff of smoke.
“Ouch!” he stuck the scorched member into his mouth.
But even that couldn’t dampen his high spirits. Because the only thing that mattered, the only thing that he really thought upon, was how, that morning, he had awoken in Anna’lis’ arms. Otherwise he wouldn’t have believed that last night had been anything other than another torrid fantasy. But it had happened. She had awoken next to him. They had kissed beneath the morning light….
And last night, he was pretty sure, though he wasn’t sure who had started it…. Yet he was positive that they had both said the word he had longed to say. And hear. Many times.
And so, life was good! Life was better than good! Tim hadn’t felt so at peace with himself, so fearless of the future, or so carefree in an age and a half!
Anna’lis, dressed once again in her green and white student robes, was walking right in front of him. She carried another wicker basket, holding the other hatchling. This one’s dark scales were already fading to an ivory and rose hue. That was pretty impressive. But nothing compared to the fact that Anna’lis would occasionally look back at him, and smile.
There was little more to the fishing village than the cluster of huts and nets on a thick white sand beach. Kim raced hither and yon in exploration and eagerness, eventually led them out of the brightness of the seaside and into the shady interior of the rise. The hill itself was thick with tree-palms and green reed-like stalk, that grew twice the height of Tim, in dense bunches. It made a pleasant sound when the sea breeze caused the stalks to rustle and wave. Through this steep climb were carved a long series of grey-stone steps. They seemed to climb up with no certain design or direction, just a jumble of angles, and short flights, diagonally or straight, without rhyme or reason. The grey stones were thick with weeds, and crumbling in places. They seemed to have once been part of a stone path, or road even – Tim saw worked protuberances here and there in the forest soil as he climbed. Though now most had fallen into ruin, and been consumed by the forest loam.
Despite its decrepit appearance, the path was not deserted. They passed villagers climbing up from below, as well as what Tim assumed to be city folk, coming down from above. They were all mortals, and of a similarity to Kim: bronze-skinned and dark haired, with clean, almost hairless limbs. Most of them went about wearing little but simple cloth or silk wraps about their wastes. Though once or twice, Tim saw men from the city that carried long, bronze or iron blades of such sharp curves that they seemed to be half-cricles, at their wastes. A few of these called out to Kim as they passed.
“What are they saying?” Tim asked.
“They are yelling, ‘Ho there, monkey boy!,” Kim said, grinning. “And I say to them-fellas, ‘How are things, snake man?’!”
“But you are not a monkey,” Tim said, with a puzzled look. Kim laughed hard from his belly.
“No Master Tim! No, I’m not! It’s a joke of the island. Old. Old one! A custom of the man people here!” At Tim’s confused look, he continued to explain, “In old days, the wicked days, before coming of the good people the Azure, it was said that the man people of the South were of the Monkey tribe. And them-fellas of the North, were from the Snake. See? Them-fellas are snake men. And I‘m monkey boy!” He finished with a giggle.
Like a clan marking, Tim mused. That made sense. There was still some of that even in parts of Ulthuan.
In a short while Tim found himself walking next to Anna’lis. It was strange; this morning he felt a little shy around her. Deliciously happy to be near her. But at the same time not certain what to say. Almost frightened that words would dissipate the happiness he felt like the last vestiges of a fond dream.
But he didn’t want her to think she was being ignored. He searched for words.
“Anna’lis, I…” he started, but at the same moment she had suddenly uttered, “Tim, there….” They both stopped, and then both smiled.
“You first,” Tim said, happy to not be burdened with trying to find the right words. At least for a few moments more.
“I,” she started, and then stopped again. She took her eyes off his face. Staring away into a thicket of the whispering green stalks she said, “I know that a lot was said…last night. And, and maybe you didn’t mean it…”
“I meant it. Every word,” Tim said quickly, and grabbed her hand. Then a thought struck him, “Did you mean what you said?”
Her gaze shifted back to him, now with a fire in her eyes. “Yes! I did! You don’t think I just say those things?!” Tim quickly, wordlessly, shook his head. “Oh Tim, don’t make this harder for me to say,” she said with a groan. “Look….I know that you have your life in the North. And your responsibilities. And I have mine in the Tower. And I have obligations to master Tiralya. And to the other students. And my studies. And then there’s my mother…..” She was shaking her head, seemingly trying to corral the frenzy of thoughts that were bubbling up within her. “I don’t know when I could see you. And…and I don’t know how I could handle that.” She stopped, and took a deep breath. “But I am willing to try. If, I mean. If you want to try too?” She finished with a look that was equal parts challenging and vulnerable.
Tim smiled at her, filled with joy, and affection, for this woman, this maiden, that he loved more than life itself.
“Anna’lis, I’ve been thinking about it all morning,” he said carefully. “Actually, I think I’ve been thinking about it longer than that. For some time now. And….” He took his own deep breath, pausing and reflecting on what he was going to say. Yes. It felt right. “I think that ten years in the Host may be long enough,” he finished.
The maiden looked startled. Tim hurried onwards, “If it’s alright with you, I was thinking that maybe I could move to Saphery. Look for work. Tiralya said once he could help me. And Nevernili too! Perhaps I could train to be a Warden.” He said with a shrug. “I just… I just don’t know if I…. I would want to be near you,” he finished lamely.
She stopped walking, and grabbed both his hands, her eyes filled with earnestness. “Tim, I would never ask you to give that up! I know how important it all is to you. Your duty. And your home.” Suddenly her face shaded pink, and she whispered, “I would never change you.”
Tim smiled and shook his head. “You have already changed me! And for the better! And I’m not afraid. I mean, I want to see how you change me more!” He felt silly tripping over his own tongue. “I read books now,” he said with a blush. “I just want to be with you…” he added, worried about her reaction.
“Tim, but what of Nagarythe? And the Host?” she said, looking concerned.
“Anna’lis I think I have paid my duty many times over,” he said with a bitter exhaustion in his voice. “I am tired. So very tired…. Tired of all the fighting. And dying. I grow weary of watching brothers come. And then seeing them into the earth, or pyre, some few months later.” He felt the pain in his voice. “And I can feel it…changing me. Eating away at me. Every time another warrior joins, I start feeling like I don’t know them. Don’t want to know them. Because soon I will just be singing the dirge for another lost kinsman…. And so I see them. And they are as shades to me. Not brothers…. And, I can’t help it! I’m afraid. I…I know that in a few years time, or centuries, or what not, Nagarythe will keep taking from me. And I’ll keep giving. Until I won’t be me anymore. I’ll just be a walking corpse. A body covered in the scars of battle and war.” He shrugged, trying to blink the tears out of his eyes. He groaned and said, “I don’t want to become Palin’Tanith….”
There were tears in her eyes too, and a knowing softness. She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Come with me to Saphery, Narrin’Tim. Please. I will help you build a life there.”
They kissed. And continued to kiss, until Kim raucously cleared his throat.
***
Beyond the rise, the city-state of Takarta waited. Tim had expected something similar to the man-cities he had encountered in the Old World: some ramshackle collection of stone and wood constructs; perhaps built upon the bones of an older, Asur city. Yet Takarta was not like any mortal dwelling he had encountered before. The city seemed to be fashioned entirely from grey stone, almost as if carved from a single giant slab. It began on the side of the mountain that enclosed this northern end of the Talon, nestled between the slopes, one of which formed the ridge that cut-off the little fishing hamlet and then tapered off into the distant point and rocky shoals that the Dawn Skipper was still making its way around. Between these great rises, Takarta sat on the slope in tier fashion, like half of a massive ziggurat. Tier after tier, hundreds of feet across, stretched out and then fell, only to be succeeded by a lower tier, until finally, the lowest, abated the sea and harbor below. And on those tiers were giant stone buildings and temples, avenues and colonnades, all of massive scale, and seemingly, ancient.
The path disgorged the trio at one of the higher tiers. A wooden and rope bridge waited to carry them from the final steps onto the stone city itself. They crossed quickly and without incident, making their way passed other throngs of travelers and city folk.
Which in itself began to puzzle Tim. The first time he had been in a mortal city, the mortals had gawked and all-but stopped in their tracks at the sight of the Asur. The local Wardens had even encaged them! Since then he had learned to be cautious and circumspect in his wanderings in the mortal world, usually hiding his features. But in Takarta there was none of that. The men and women he passed by simply nodded at them, or paid them no mind at all.
I suppose, he pondered, living so close to the City of Spires, they must have much more dealings with the Asur. Strange enough to think. As Ulthuan was forbidden to their kind, on pain of death. But obviously, things were different in the colonies.
It was their cargo – the wicker baskets filled with the tiny drakes – that once recognized, garnered the most attention. People would stare in shock, and then make great displays of obeisance towards the little dragons. Some even falling to their knees.
It was a curious world alright. And there were statues. Many statues! All of gargantuan size, carved in stone, or forged in bronze, even gold. Many of them depicted a great head, heavy lidded, with a serene gaze. Others showed, a robed man in recline. They were so prominent that finally Tim asked their little guide about it.
“Them be the Great Teacher. Him that was from the bigland across the water. Beyond the Spires,” he explained. “He come, many, many years ago, and he teach many folk about where you go after you go die. The great wheel waits. And then manfolk are born again. And again! Getting better each time. Until they come into paradise.” The boy looked shyly over at Tim and Anna’lis, and then in a softer voice added, “Themfolk say that since the Azure no die enough, they are much slower to reach paradise.” Then shaking his head and laughing, “But don’t you worry about me none! I’m a good Asuryan man myself! I go to wait in his mighty fire!”
Tim had no idea what to make of that. And realized that life in the colonies may be stranger than he had imagined.
But there were other things to distract his attention. Mixed into the mortal statues were other, seemingly older statues. These showed all kinds of serpents, jeweled eyed hooded things. They were depicted in worn reliefs, oftentimes partially covered by vines and growing canopies. Here and there a free-standing statue still stood. Though some of those were fractured; the great serpents depicted cracked in pieces, eyes and fangs lay upon the ground beneath rising hoods.
Finally, after some half hour of wandering through the city, the trio saw a troop of warriors approaching. They wore bronzed armor composed of many, interlinking scales. And headdresses, shaped from metal skullcaps inset with many bright plumes. At their waste were more of the curious, curved swords. At their approach, Kim moved surreptitiously behind Tim. Anna’lis however stepped forward, and said something in the guttural local tongue. She winked at Tim, and added, “I’ve been studying.” Tim smiled back.
Yet the warriors responded in Asur, thickly accented. “Spire-folk! The King demands your presence!” Anna’lis nodded, and the three fell in amongst the warriors.
The humans led them across the tier and onto a set of wide stairs, along either side of which water in stone channels cascaded. The warriors led them upwards, along two more of the gigantic stone tiers, until they reached the final one, high up on the slope of the green mountain. This tier was dominated by a single, massive stone building, mottled with vines, and shrouded in the slow flowing mists drifting down from the mountain peak. Tim saw great courtyards beyond huge arches below; and above, walkways and balconies, some the length of a ship. And again, yet more of those statues depicting man or serpent.
Then they were in the interior, passing along corridors illuminated by sunlight, cleverly reflected off of polished bronze mirrors. They passed open aired gardens dominated by pools, filled with brightly colored, slow moving fish. And all about men, women, and children, at play or at work, filled the halls, gardens, and waiting rooms. Until finally, they reached a point, and the lead warrior said, “Your weapons. They will wait here.” He pointed at a stone bench. Tim hesitated, but a look from Anna’lis decided him. He unhooked his belt and its assortment of knives. Then unstrapped his shoulder sheath and the inner kingdom longsword he wore there. Finally, carefully depositing, the white Avelorn longbow atop the rest. Then reclaiming his basket, he followed Anna’lis into the room beyond.
The waiting room was dominated by a multi-tier dais, crowned by a mammoth stone seat, that seemed ten times too large for the mortal that sat, surrounded by colorful cushions, in its center. He was a mortal man of the same complexion and features of the others of the Talons, though his long braided hair was streaked white with age, and he was potbellied.
“Asur,” he began in accented elvish without preamble. “You come into Takarta, free-city and ancient home! Baring two of the dragon-clutch! And this you must know, that the great River Dragon mother has been wrathful upon the mountains and storms at sea! Screaming flame and calling forth the hurricanes of vengeance!!” The mortal rose from his seat, trembling with rage. “And the Asur folk, come now with two! Two eggs that were stolen! Now two of the clutch! Speak! Speak straight without any Asur twists or turns! I would know of this!”
Tim tensed, unsure of what to do. Fortunately, Anna’lis stepped forward, and calmly said, “Great king. These hatchlings were taken as eggs, from we believe, the nests of your dominion. Taken unlawfully. And we have come to return them.”
She stepped forward and set the basket down at the foot of the dais, then gestured for Tim to do likewise. He complied.
The man-king eyed them with an inscrutable expression. “Unlawful? What means this? You deny that this was not the will of Spire, the hungry Tower that always craves what it does not possess?! My people have seen the ships being built in harbors. The spears being trained! You deny that Spire is not building itself for war, to take the free dragons of Takarta that they have long coveted!!”
“No!” Anna’lis barked, and then gaining a measure of composure added, “If it would please you, your majesty. No. These eggs were taken without the knowledge of the Asur lords. They were stolen by one, acting alone, without the consent or even the knowledge of the Prince of Spires!”
The muscles of Tim’s back and arms were starting to ache, so tense he was. He could see the many warriors lurking in the shadows of the room’s edges; feel their hostile eyes upon them. He could not make out their visages, or weapons. But he resolved himself that if the king made a sudden move, he would dive and shield Anna’lis as best he could.
Yet the king just sat there, and studied Anna’lis with that same blank expression. Finally, he said,
“If what you speak is true…. What of the thief?”
“They will be taken into custody. And punished,” Anna’lis answered.
“In the old ways,” Tim thought to add. At that the king nodded, a grim smile on his lips.
“And what if I were to say that since this crime was done in Takarta. To the dragon lords of Takarta. That the thief should come to Takarta, to face our ‘old ways’?” the king asked.
Tim hesitated at that. And he could see Anna’lis flinch too. It was one thing to punish the Saphery lady according to the Phoenix King’s law. But turn her over to mortals? To be punished. Executed. By a mortal headsmen. The thought disturbed him, and he wasn’t sure why.
“Yes,” the king said studying their faces. “It is always so. The Asur speak of friendship and allies. Of trust and neutrality. But it is hard to believe these things when one is always looking down.” The king made a chopping gesture with his hand, and continued, “You must look in the eye to call someone a brother. Not build more ships. Train more spears. But maybe now that Takarta is growing strong. The King of Spires will look us in the eye when he talks.” He paused, the grim smile returning to his face. Then slowly, he said:
“We have found new friends. New allies to help us be strong.”
He gestured into the corners of the room. And then from the shadows, emerged the serried ranks of black mailed Druchii!!! Their cloaks hung loose about their backs, the repeater crossbows, so dreaded in Nagarythe, held comfortably in their hands. Their faces leered at the two Asur caught in the center.
And from behind the throne emerged a cohort of a dozen of the great draich wielding executioners of Har Ganeth. And with them a pair of elf maidens, with wild long white hair done in braids, and wearing black iron tiaras inset with red stones. They were identical in every aspect, down to their white, pupil-less eyes. They both raised their hands, and blue flame appeared between fingers.
“Yet long have my fathers been at peace with the Asur,” the mortal king spoke again. “So I will think more of this matter to not make needless bloodshed.” He stared down at the two Asur, and said, “You will be my guests in the palace while I deliberate. You will be given courtesy and honor. And tonight, you will be invited to feast with myself, my lords, and Takarta’s new friends.” He swept his hands outwards to include the two-score of grinning Druchii….
***
[quote="Seredain"]Headshot, you are wise like Yoda[/quote]
Oooh, more twists and turns. And there we thought only the asur knew intrigue. Fun
Headshot wrote:
“Anna’lis, I’ve been thinking about it all morning,” he said carefully. “Actually, I think I’ve been thinking about it longer than that. For some time now. And….” He took his own deep breath, pausing and reflecting on what he was going to say. Yes. It felt right. “I think that ten years in the Host may be long enough,” he finished.
Of course, this is the realy bombshell. Tim leaving the Host. Imagine that.
Rod
For Nagarythe: Come to the dark side.
PS: Bring cookies!
Check out my plog
Painting progress, done/in progress/in box: 167/33/91
Check my writing blog for stories on the Prince of Spires and other pieces of fiction.
Headshot wrote:
“Anna’lis, I’ve been thinking about it all morning,” he said carefully. “Actually, I think I’ve been thinking about it longer than that. For some time now. And….” He took his own deep breath, pausing and reflecting on what he was going to say. Yes. It felt right. “I think that ten years in the Host may be long enough,” he finished.
Of course, this is the realy bombshell. Tim leaving the Host. Imagine that.
Rod
We've seen a glimpse of the future before, Tim has a duty that will only end with his death.
[url=http://www.ulthuan.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=34506][i]Lord Elessehta Silverbough of Ar Yvrellion, Ruler of Athel Anarhain, Prince of the Yvressi.[/i][/url]
[quote="Narrin’Tim"]These may be the last days of the Asur, but if we are to leave this world let us do it as the heroes of old, sword raised against evil![/quote]
Narrin’Tim grabbed the wicker stool and flung it into the stone wall. Then he picked up the broken legs, and smashed them one at a time. He looked around for more. It was the third stool. All the others lay scattered about in pieces. He threw himself against the wall and started pummeling it with his bare fists.
He could feel the blood flowing from raw knuckles; but it did not matter. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him, ‘This is wrong!” There was no parley! No succor! No mercy!! For the traitors! It was beyond inconceivable; it was a betrayal of Nagarythe! Of his father. His mother. Everyone who had fought and died at his side!
He slipped on a wet spot on the stone floor, and fell down hard on his rear. Breathing heavily he asked himself, “What would the Shadow Prince do?” Easy. He would kill all of them. Or die trying. And if Tim had had his bow with him he would have taken the shot as soon as they revealed themselves! He wouldn’t have stopped to think! It was so ingrained in him…. He would have killed them. One or two. And then he would’ve died.
And it would have been fine…. Except…. Anna’lis had been standing right next to him. And when her hand had clasped onto his, he had thought how much he didn’t want her to die. So they accepted the King’s offer, even though they both knew it wasn’t a matter of refusal. And came to these chambers to rest and wait the nightfall, and the King’s council.
Anna’lis. He looked around the room. It was a shambles. Much of the furniture had been scattered and broken in his wrath. Huddling in one corner he could see the terrified form of the manchild, peering out from behind a cushion. But no sign of Anna’lis! Did she leave on her own while he was raging?!
He stumbled back to his feet, and made towards the door. But hadn’t crossed the room before it swung inwards, and Anna’lis stepped in.
“Have you finished-?” she began with a scowl, and then took a look at the room. “Oh Tim!” He was breathing hard, and covered in his own sweat and blood. And he felt a sense of shame.
“Tim you are bleeding!” She came over and took up his hands, with a concerned frown.
“Where did you go?” he managed, dry mouthed and hoarse from screaming. Anna’lis ignored him, eyes closed she murmured something, and he could feel a cool pressure across his hands. The bleeding stopped.
“I went to try to see the king,” she then answered. “But it was no use. He would not speak with me. We’ll have to wait until tonight.” She said with a sober expression. “At least the King’s people have taken the hatchlings.”
“Then let’s go,” Tim said, voice still brittle. “Leave this city at once. We must tell the Prince the Druchii are here!”
“Yes, I know. But Tim, don’t you see? We must speak to the King. Warn him of the Druchii. And stop him from pursuing this madness of talking war with the City of Spires!” she said with resolve. “If we don’t, then centuries of peace could be broken!”
“Let them come,” Tim rasped.
She looked at him crossly. “Do you really want to see more fighting and bloodshed here? You want to turn this place into another Nagarythe?!” There was heat on her cheeks. “We can avoid this. There has been peace here for half a millennia! There need not be war. If we act. Now!”
Tim could hear the wisdom in her words…. But all he wanted to do was to draw his falchion across Druchii throats. And when that broke, to tear with his teeth…. But he nodded.
“Tim,” she said gravely. “If you can’t keep control of yourself, then I must go alone to this feast, and try to talk reason into the King.”
The thought of Anna’lis alone in a room filled with Druchii, turned his spine into ice water. He fervently shook his head. “No. I will come with you. I will behave. I promise.”
***
The feasting hall was similar to the one in the Steward’s keep: an open air platform at one corner of the great palace, spacious, and surrounded by low stone walls that allowed a spectacular view of the city and harbor below. The inner kingdom lanterns used at the Keep were missing though; tall reed staffs, topped with burning wicks stood about the room, providing a flickering, orange light. And there was no space for dancing. The entire center area was covered in a massive stone table.
Anna’lis had changed once more into her long flowing dress. And she had insisted Tim dress in accordance. Fortunately, he had packed the loaned doublet from Aaryn’Flynn. He didn’t like it one bit. Not here. Worse was that she had refused to allow him to bring any of his weapons, saying that the King’s guard would not permit it. They fought about that for a long hour. Finally, she had allowed him to bring only one of his knifes. The smallest one.
From his vantage point at the edge of the reception-balcony, Tim could see the many lights of the ships in the harbor. He made out the lamps of the Dawn Skipper. And now, clearly, he could see a trio of the dreaded Druchii corsair ships there in the harbor center.
Aaggh! If only they had have come all the way by ship. They could’ve seen them from the sea, and never set foot in this accursed city! They’d be on their way now, searching for the Prince! And Anna’lis would be safe! And not trapped in this nest of vipers!
Yet he had little time for lamentations. The king arrived, surrounded by a score of courtiers. With the barest of nods, he claimed a place at one end of the table. The mortal courtiers then filed into all of the closest places. Servants approached he and Anna’lis (Kim had not been invited), and led them to the seats at the opposite end of the table.
And then three Druchii came in. The servants led them to the spaces just across from the Asur. Tim stood up. And Anna’lis put a calming hand upon his.
The three Druchii consisted of the pair of white haired sorceresses he saw before; now dressed in black gowns, and covered in silver and gold ornaments. One smiled with amusement and said,
“Such gentle manners! Standing for your betters.”
The other added, “And a handsome face.” She purred at him. “I like this one.”
Anna’lis’ hand started to squeeze painfully upon his.
The third was male. He was built broad shouldered and hulking, like a Chracian. And was so tall that he towered a head over Tim. He wore black glistening scale mail, and a pair of corsair sabers upon one hip. (Dammit, Anna’lis!!). He stared down at Tim past a long, hawklike nose. One half of his face was gouged by a trio of scars, ending in a ravaged eye, yellow and watery. The other glared at him with contempt.
“Sit down, little Nagarathi. Before I make you.”
“Now, now, Seth’Tarkan,” one of the witches chided. “We wouldn’t want to break the peace.”
“Neutral ground and all that,” the other finished.
Anna’lis was tugging at his hand as Tim stared narrow eyed at the brute. Slowly he relinquished to her grasp, and slunk into his seat, watching as the Corsair captain did likewise. It was a good thing too; the King was now standing. In the Asur tongue he said,
“We will share wine, and food, in the honor of friendships. Both new,” he raised a fine goblet towards the witches. “Well welcome, our new friends from Naggaroth.” He sipped the goblet. Tim noticed for the first time that the settings of the table were all luxurious ceramics and crystal. His plate bore the mark of a Great House from Lothern!
Ungrateful….
“And we welcome our old friends from Spires,” he again raised his glass, though without nearly as much pomp, and sipped at it. “Eat. And be welcome.”
More servants emerged with platters and trays. Tim was glad of the distraction. Soon the human nobles erupted into the din of conversation and laughter. Only the King sat silent, watching the length of the table.
As the servants departed, the witch across from Tim leaned forward with a smile, allowing her low-cut gown to reveal much of her body.
Though all Tim wanted to do was slam her head into the plate in front of her….
“I am Xia’Io. My sister, Xia’Calist.” The other stared at him amused. “You are…what do they call it? A Shadow Warrior, yes? From Nagarythe. What brings you across the world to this hot, sticky place?”
Tim swallowed, not trusting his tongue to speak. The witch twin then said, “Be kind dear sister! This one I know. This is no ordinary Shadow Warrior. This one is Narrin’Tim!”
The Corsair captain, who had been chewing on something, paying little heed to those about him, stirred at this. “Narrin? Of the Narrin Clan.” His good eye returned to probing Tim’s face. “Yes. I knew a Narrin once. He was an oarsboy on one of my crews. A weak, and cowardly thing. He was stung by a fish on Lustrian shores. We laughed as he choked to death on his own bile.” The giant smiled at the memories.
Tim would’ve leapt across the table then and there; sabers be dammed! But Anna’lis’ nails dug firmly into his thigh. The pain focused him.
“What are you doing here?” she challenged. “Naggaroth has no allies. It has no relation at all with the nations of the world. All you have ever done is raid for slaves.”
One of the witches smiled at her. “You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Too bad your body is so…uninspiring. But your eyes…yes, I could find uses for those.”
Anna’lis stiffened. Tim’s hand went to his knife. But then the other witch said,
“Dear sister, the things you say! We are all friends here.” Turning to Anna’lis she answered, “Ah, but you speak of the old Naggaroth. The new Naggaroth is very much concerned with the plight of our many, and sundry fellows, languishing under the threat of Asur aggression.” She smiled. “The mortals of the southern lands can see their lands being consumed by Asur wanton expansion. They know that the greed and vanity of the false-king knows no bounds. We are simply here to show them….another path.”
Tim finally found his voice. “Lies,” he rasped. “The only path known to Malek’Kith is war and death!”
The Corsair snarled, hand moving to his saber. “You dare speak the Great King’s name, race-traitor?!”
Tim’s knife was past half-way out of its sheathe, when the King suddenly called:
“What of the third egg?”
Anna’lis darted her eyes away from the Dark Elves and looked at the mortal king, staring down at them. “Pardon, your majesty,” she answered politely.
“The River Mother told us that three from her clutch were taken,” the king said solemnly. “Yet only two of the hatch were returned.”
Anna’lis blinked at him, and then glanced at Tim. Turning back to the King, she answered, “Only two were found, your majesty.”
The king’s eyes held hers for a little while. Standing, he said, “Walk with me.” And then moved towards the interior of the palace. Tim stood, relieved. Yet as the King passed, he said, “I would speak with the maiden, alone.”
Tim started to mouth objections, but Anna’lis gave him a shake of the head and an emphatic look. He watched the old man-king disappear into the interior, with Anna’lis in tow.
***
The night was growing late, and the feast had finally finished. And yet still no Anna’lis. Neither she, nor the King had returned. Tim was growing worried, and as he was finally released from the nightmare dinner (having spent the rest of the night avoiding the Druchii; who seemed disinterested in him after the King's departure), he made his way quickly back towards the rooms. He knew that Anna’lis’ room was along the same corridor as the ones he shared with Kim. She must be there!
But the palace had become a labyrinth of torchlight and shadows at night. As he made his way into the interior, the halls seemed to merge as one into a veil of memory. Stone faces and serpents rearing were everywhere. Which passage was the right one?
It was hard to think. He decided to try to backtrack to the reception balcony. One of the servants could show him the way.
One of the witches emerged from the shadows. “Don’t be startled by the shadows, Shadow Warrior,” she purred, smiling at her own jest. She stepped forward and slowly started circling him. “I merely thought that perhaps we could continue our…détente…in the comfort and privacy of my quarters. Just you and I.” She finished with a smile. “Or if you prefer, my sister could join us….”
Tim’s hand was on his knife hilt. “Touch me witch and you lose a hand!” he hissed.
She stopped in front of him, a pout to her lips. “That is regrettable. I was going to allow you the fun first, but…have it your way.”
Suddenly Tim felt a pinch at his throat. Gasping, he glanced down and saw a long thin needle protruding from his neck! The second witch stepped out from behind him. He tried to bring his knife up. But his arms wouldn’t move!
“This one will do,” the witch said.
“Too bad,” her sister answered, still pouting.
The corsair captain strode down the corridor and joined them. “Come. I grow weary of these games. The Ark waits.”
“Do not be so hasty, Tarkan,” the second witch countered. “There is much to consider.”
“The warriors have waited long enough,” the Corsair captain snarled. “I say we test them against the Spire. See what mettle they are made of.”
“No. This one serves the Shadow Prince. We must know the movements of the false Phoenix.”
“It matters not,” the pouting sister said. “Our ‘ally’ is in place. When we are finished, there will be no more need to hide behind this treaty. The Spire will be cast down, and all of its warriors. And the Black Ark can lay claim this entire dominion for Naggaroth!” Then walking up to the Corsair captain, she lay a comforting hand on his chest. “Your soldiers, dearest, will not even have to shed a drop of blood. Just march in and claim all in glorious victory!”
The corsair growled, “I do not like seeing you stand so close to this pygmy.” He slammed a beefy thumb into Tim’s chest. The witch gave him a kiss on the throat.
“Don’t be jealous, my lord….”
“Wait!” her sister hissed. She pointed. Down the hall, a manchild lurked at a corner. Quickly the small lad, turned and sprang away.
TWANG! There was the whip-snap of the captain’s handbow. The child went sprawling. Striding down the hall with a heavy tread, the captain stood over the quivering form, and then fired his handbow into it once more. He returned to the witches.
“Let us depart.”
***
This is why Nagarathi make lousy house guests....
[quote="Seredain"]Headshot, you are wise like Yoda[/quote]
always keep your enemy in sight ! Lol oh Tim you should have brought your sabers.. And the bow... And the knives.. Especially the knives, can't be too careful while dining with your dark kin. But love does make us do crazy things Haha but then again I think Tim has them right where he wants them.. Away from Anna and up close
Shadowy member of The Mage Knight Guild
Attack when they are unprepared, make your move when they least expect it.
Only in your darkest hour, will you triumph over true evil.
Poor Kim, that boy had promise =(
I wonder where Anna’lis went...
[url=http://www.ulthuan.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=34506][i]Lord Elessehta Silverbough of Ar Yvrellion, Ruler of Athel Anarhain, Prince of the Yvressi.[/i][/url]
[quote="Narrin’Tim"]These may be the last days of the Asur, but if we are to leave this world let us do it as the heroes of old, sword raised against evil![/quote]
rdghuizing wrote:the City of Spires will never fall... (at least I hope so, otherwise I have a whole army to relocate)
A new modelling opportunity? ^_^
[url=http://www.ulthuan.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=34506][i]Lord Elessehta Silverbough of Ar Yvrellion, Ruler of Athel Anarhain, Prince of the Yvressi.[/i][/url]
[quote="Narrin’Tim"]These may be the last days of the Asur, but if we are to leave this world let us do it as the heroes of old, sword raised against evil![/quote]
I begin to see why it is unadvisable for humans to be too fond of the "Azure". It has bad impact on their life expectancy. I silently hoped it would not happen this time.
Poor Tim, this was too much. Dinner with the Druchii! Fingers crossed for the Azure to weather this... feast.
Annalyth sat at the edge of her bed, and waited. She had walked, and talked, with the King of Takarta for many hours, until the night grew late. When she was finally given leave to go, she returned to the palace rooms provided her.
The King had many questions. About the dragon eggs. About her. About the City of Spires. About the Asur, and why there was no embassy in the city. Over and over he had pressed, and she had answered as best she could. It was a situation she had never expected to be in; acting as a representative of Ulthuan. But in a way, she realized, she was acting as an emissary, under the authority of the Shadow Prince. That of course led him to ask the question, ‘What is Nagarythe?’
Finally, she was able to turn the conversation towards the matter that disturbed her the most. She warned him of Naggaroth.
“Why do you speak such ill of these type?” the king had asked. “In the short time we have known them, they have given us much. In the long time we have known the Asur, they have given us little.”
“It is a ruse your majesty,” she had responded. “Flattery and gifts to deceive. Their history is one of treachery and conquest. You must believe me. Letting them here endangers both your people, and mine!”
“There is no proof. Why should I trust your words?”
She had thought on that. “You do not need to trust my words, your majesty. Send your ships and ask your fellow traders of the Druchii! If they have not been seen around these parts, ask the men of the mainland. Or beyond. You will certainly here accounts of their crimes!”
The king had looked grim at this, but finally nodded. Feeling, some small relief she had left for her chambers, and waited to tell Narrin’Tim.
She had felt sure he would come. Yet an hour had passed, and her irritation was increasing. After what happened last night, he should come. Shouldn’t he? After what he said to her – and she to him – she felt certain that he would come to her chambers this night! Where was he?
Should she go to his chambers? But what kind of maiden would that make her?
She fretted. But then her fretting turned to worry. What if something had happened. She decided to check, appearances be damned (and if he was there asleep, she would let him know a thing or two!). As she strode towards the door, she stopped as she saw a small pool of darkness at its base, slowly expanding.
Blood! She swung the door opened. Laying there crumpled was the manchild, Kim! She fell on her knees beside him; his body had been pierced by Druchii bolts.
Oh no. Oh no. She felt along his throat for a sign of the breath of life. Nothing. She called to the Jade wind…and could not feel it stir. The boy was dead.
“Help!” she shouted to the dark corridor first in the Asur tongue, and then in the man speech of the islands. In moments servants and armed warriors began to hurry down the hall. She leapt to her feet and crossed the way and flung the door open to Narrin’Tim’s room. She saw the Avelorn bow and his blades waiting right where she had told him to leave them. His black leather armor arranged on one chair. But no Tim….
And then she heard a barked order, “Seize that one!” She was surrounded by sword-bearing mortal men. She thought to summon Asuryan’s flame, but then thought better of it.
“I did no wrong,” she said, trying to be as calm as possible as she was led away further into the palace darkness.
***
Narrin’Tim awoke to feel the familiar swaying of a ship at sea. He was in darkness; just a tiny flickering glow of a ship’s lamp, burning somewhere to his left to provide illumination. He was lying on his side, still dressed in Flynn’s doublet and breeches. His hands and feet were bound with leather strips; his mouth gagged. He struggled, but it was of no use. His eyes flitted about the darkness, trying to gauge his surroundings. Boxes and barrels everywhere. He must be in a hold. The place was filled with the stench of blood and fear. Manacles and chains lined the walls. Somewhere in the darkness he heard a strange chirping sound. He looked towards it, and saw some oblong object, covered in a tarp. At its base he could see a metal frame.
Sunlight flooded the hold. Down a ladder he could see shapes moving. Coming into his vision was one of the white-eyed witch sisters, and with her two corsairs.
“Un-gag him,” the witch commanded. A corsair cut his gag. “Well, my pretty. You are not looking so pretty anymore. Nor smelling very nice.” She said, squatting down near his head. “Things could be more…pleasant for you. If you answer my questions.” Tim glared.
“Where is the Shadow Prince?” she said.
Tim made no response. The witch smiled. “I knew you would be a stubborn one. All Nagarathi are so surly. But this is my specialty.” She lay a leather case upon the floor in front of him, and rolled it open. “After I finished my studies of the dark arts with the coven, I began a second apprenticeship into the apothecary. I’m an expert at poisons. Of all sorts. I studied all types known in Naggaroth. And then spent time in Cathay and Lustria, seeking out new concoctions. Ten years. It was worth it.” As she spoke her hands slid throughout pockets in her case, finally producing a long slender barb. It looked to be the spine of some sort of sea creature.
“Where is the Shadow Prince?”
When Tim made no response she slid the barb into the crook of his elbow. His body filled with fire….
***
For almost two days Annalyth waited in the sealed chambers that the warriors sequestered her in. The room itself was plain, unadorned; rounded stone walls with a single iron door, and a single arrow-slit of a window. The window showed her to be in one of the towers of the palace. There was a bed, and a basin of water. And food was brought to her twice, each time slid through a hole in the door. But she saw no captor. It would have been endurable – she had meditated in the White Tower in rooms such as this – but her worry was driving her beyond distraction. She could not sleep or eat. She called, and no one came. She thought to use her spellcraft, but her magic could not melt iron doors or burst stone. She was helpless.
Until in the morning of that second day, the door opened revealing native warriors. “The King will see you now.” She was led by the armed escort down palace corridors, finally emerging upon a wide open balcony. Stone columns bedecked with serpent reliefs stood in rows, and between them were strung translucent banners and streamers of white silk. They room seemed to flutter and twist in the breeze.
She saw the king. “You majesty, please I did no wrong,” she said, her voice sounding harsh to her own ears. “My friend, Narrin’Tim….”
The king shook his head. “I did not send for you. The Rain Father would speak with you.” He pointed further along the balcony. She could see a shape there amongst the white streamers, silhouetted in the fluttering movements. Hesitantly the girl walked that way. Not understanding, and wondering what she should do. Find Tim! But how? If she used her spellcraft on the king, she could flee. But what good would that do? And how far?
And what was a Rain Father. She stepped closer, and then a soft deep voice seemed to emerge from the very air around her.
- You are a child of the Elder Flame. Yes, I see his mark upon you. -
“I…I am Annalyth. Of Saphery. From Ulthuan,” she said to the room, hesitantly walking onward.
- Yes. Asuryan’s creation. - The voice sounded amused. - The hatchlings speak of you. You are the one I seek. -
She continued forward, passing the last of the shuddering streamers, and before her she saw a great, reptilian eye, gleaming of the purest gold. Behind it coils and coils of ivory scales. The great dragon watched her with one eye, its head held low, level with her own.
Her heart skipped a beat. She had never been so close before to one of the elder drakes! Only seen them flying in the distant. And once when the Prince of Caledor, Malossar, had visited the Tower, she had crowded the windows alongside the other students to get a glimpse of his gargantuan mount, if only for a moment, and from far. But here! There was nothing but a few steps separating her from a fanged jaw large enough to swallow her whole! Or talons that could snap her asunder!
And that eye! It studied her with such cold intelligence. She knew not what to do. It had never even crossed her mind before. What was the etiquette in meeting a dragon? Besides not getting eaten. Should she curtsey?
- I am Telmar. Known in these parts as Rain Father. Of the First. My place is to remember…. -
“I am Annalyth of Saphery.”
- Yes. So it was said. - The great beast certainly sounded amused. - So the hatchlings said of you. And Tiralya speaks of you with fondness. -
“You know Master Tiralya?!” she gasped.
- He remembers too. Though not as much as I. Sometimes we remember together. -
A wellspring of relief broke out of her heart. “Please, you must help me!”
- My mate is under great distress. We have found two. But the third still is missing. -
“The, the third egg? But, we only ever had two!” Annalyth stumbled. Then something settled inside. “But….but I think I know who has the third. If you can help me find them?”
***
Narrin’Tim staggered along the jungle path, manhandled by the corsairs walking behind. Long vines and streamers slapped his face. His hands bound at his back, he was unable to do anything about them. He kept his eyes low, and felt the sun burn the back of his neck and upon the flesh exposed by the tattered remnants of Flynn’s dress-coat.
He had screamed. Screamed until his voice broke and words would not come. And still the witch had fed his veins…. Always to the same question. And he had jabbered. And wept. But he had not answered. Not even when she had poured poison into his ear….
Now he could hear little. And his eyes felt swollen in his skull. But they made him walk. Into the jungle. The Corsairs led him with curse and whip, forcing his feet to move a step at a time. He could not be sure how long he walked. An hour or a day. All he knew was that the witch led. He could hear her speak to the raiders. See glimpses of her lithe form through the dappled shadows of the path ahead. And every time he saw her, a maelstrom of emotions clouded his thoughts. He wanted to weep at her feet. And taste her throat. And die so that she may live. And kill her with his bare fingers.
There was something else with them on the trail. A cage and a sack. The cage was carried by two corsairs. It chittered as they swung it this way and that. The sack hissed and whimpered, upon a corsair’s back.
Finally the jungle opened up. Dimly, faintly, more vibration in his teeth than sound in his ruined ears, he could hear a waterfall. And there was a shadow cast upon them all. A grayness that swallowed up the sky and sun. He tried to look up. He saw grey stone, carved, and thick with vines and spiny growths. Focusing harder, until the pain shrieked inside his skull, he saw a massive ziggurat rise tier upon tier above him.
He couldn’t be back in the Spire dominion, he thought feverishly. Couldn’t be so near the student compound…. And… Anna’lis. No. The jungle was too thick about here. And the mountains were wrong.
“Bring the offerings,” the witch commanded. The Druchii tugged at his rope and forced him forward. The witch led them towards a hole in the ziggurat’s side. She disappeared into the darkness and Tim was forced to follow. Inside he could see an uneven tunnel littered with fractured stone and gravel. The air was heavy with a foreign, acrid stench.
The penetrated further into the structure. The darkness grew. The corsairs produced torches and lamps. And then the tunnel opened into a cavern, its walls smooth and squared. In the center were three rings carved into the stone. And across the way, gigantic steps led up to a massive stone plinth, seeming to support the weight of the entire ziggurat upon itself.
The witch seized the sack, and went to the first of the circles. From out of the sack she pulled the small winged form of a dragon hatchling.
“Dragon!” she called to the room, and cut upon the little creatures back. It squealed and hissed in pain. Blood fell into the circle. She handed it back to a waiting corsair. Then moving to the covered cage, she opened it. There was a creature, small and scaled, with the gait of a man but the head of a reptile. She seized it, and the thing chittered in seeming fury.
“Slaan!” she called, and cut upon its arm. Blood fell into the second circle. She passed it back to the cage. Then with a cruel smile on her lips she walked up to Narrin’Tim. She stroked his cheek.
“You understand, my love. These things tend to work better with the pure of heart. That unfortunately rules out any of us.” Chuckles filled the room. She kissed him. Then a sharp pain as teeth bit down on his tongue. His mouth filled with blood; he spat.
“Elf!” she called to the room. The witch hesitated a moment, and searched the walls and carvings. Finally, she turned to the corsairs and said, “The ritual is complete. Break the final seal!” A nod. Corsairs ran across the room. Tim, blood running down his chin, tried to watch. He could see a pile of barrels resting against the stone. The corsair with a torch touched a string nearby. A sparkle, and they all fled back down the tunnel.
Outside the witch ran her fingernail along Tim’s neck. “Do not worry, my love. No harm will come to you. Once the purge is completed, and my dominion is established, you will have the pleasure to be my pet. I will take good care of you.”
A muffled boom echoed throughout the clearing, and dust poured forth from the makeshift tunnel. Then…a stillness. The witch seemed to hesitate, mumbling to herself. The Druchii corsairs looked about amongst themselves.
“Maybe it didn’t work,” one grumbled. The witch hissed at him. Then slowly at first, but with ever increasing speed, the tiers of the ziggurat collapsed in on themselves, one after another. Dust and darkness swept throughout the clearing and the jungle beyond. The sky above was obscured. And then it too seemed to darken in mirror to the earth. Storm clouds rolled in at incredible speed. Lightning flickered and thunder roared; icy rain drops began to pelt the ground.
And then Tim, past his weariness and the fugue inside his head could see it. A massive coiled darkness raising itself out from the temple ruins. Loop upon loop of black body circled; each ebony scale the size of a man. Until the awesome visage of a great hooded serpent rose towering into the clouds overhead.
The witch was laughing with glee. “K’turu!!! It is I who have released you. I who have bound you in the secret fires of the Four! I, Xia’Io are your mistress now!!” the witch called out to the shadow in the storm clouds above. “And I command you, rid this land of the Asur. Burn them down! Break their bodies! Break their towns! Until none of Asuryan’s people dwell herein!! And then cross to the mainland. Shatter the City of Spires! Devour its people! Burn its armies! Turn it to dust and ash!!!”
Then, as if the earth spoke itself, a voice rolled throughout the forest.
– It will be so. –
And then the witch’s triumphant smile faltered and fell from her face. A great emerald glow filled the storms above. And then fire, hissing green fire, fell from the skies….
***
These things never go well. I mean, every book of demonology should have a chapter dedicated to escape tunnels!
Or ejections seats....
[quote="Seredain"]Headshot, you are wise like Yoda[/quote]
[url=http://www.ulthuan.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=34506][i]Lord Elessehta Silverbough of Ar Yvrellion, Ruler of Athel Anarhain, Prince of the Yvressi.[/i][/url]
[quote="Narrin’Tim"]These may be the last days of the Asur, but if we are to leave this world let us do it as the heroes of old, sword raised against evil![/quote]
Headshot wrote:
These things never go well. I mean, every book of demonology should have a chapter dedicated to escape tunnels!
Or ejections seats....
The problem is that it is all in small print. A bit like the information you get with your medication mentioning all the possible side effects. Small print, hard too read, there is too much of it and it all only happens to other people anyway. So no reason to read that part.
Besides, most people who write demonology books only ever get to the summoning part. It's kind of hard to write about how you were eaten alive or made an eternal prisoner in some alien dimension. Also, that doesn't realy sell books...
At least there is something you can always count on. Big, angry, firebreathing lizards. It's why the colonies are such a lovely place (besides the elf maidens in bikinis of course. That's the invention we are most proud of)
Rod
For Nagarythe: Come to the dark side.
PS: Bring cookies!
Check out my plog
Painting progress, done/in progress/in box: 167/33/91
Check my writing blog for stories on the Prince of Spires and other pieces of fiction.
Aye daemons are troublesome... Been trying to kill one in my story for some time now... But... It ...Just... Won't ... Die... Lol yes troublesome indeed.
Shadowy member of The Mage Knight Guild
Attack when they are unprepared, make your move when they least expect it.
Only in your darkest hour, will you triumph over true evil.
rdghuizing wrote:That's the invention we are most proud of
Truly an awe-inspiring one! And surely must be the real reason that the rest of us tolerate the backward colonies! Forget about the dragon exports. It's really all about domestic tourism!
headshot
[quote="Seredain"]Headshot, you are wise like Yoda[/quote]
The Talons drifted far below. Annalyth could see the lush greenery of the interior past wisps of cloud, and to the east, tiny islets that looked like stones in a pond, from her vantage point between the ridges of Telmar’s back.
She was flying on a dragon! And all the Caledorian songs she had heard about the majesty and the power, the grace and glory, echoed in her ears. And she kept thinking how false they were; all she wanted to do was vomit. It didn’t feel majestic at all! But she was so afraid of what the dragon might do if her stomach started misbehaving, that she kept her jaw slammed shut, lips sealed, and eyes closed. Except when the dragon beneath her bucked or turned – which was all the time! – then her eyes snapped open and she stared below in terror, and a horrible dizziness threatened to overtake her reason.
She wish she had a seat. With buckles and straps. But she had not known anything about dragons. How do you ask for something like that? Telmar had agreed to only a single rope, tied about one of the bony plates that protruded from his shoulder. She held onto that with two white knuckled fists. Behind her, also tied to another plate, was a bag containing her and Narrin’Tim’s things.
She tried to think of something else. Anything else. She shouted into the wind,
“Telmar, you must warn the King about the Druchii!”
- It has been done, little rider. - The booming voice filled the sky. - Long have I slept. Otherwise I would have warned him long before. Yet now your words and mine have moved his heart. There will be caution in Takarta. -
What should she say? “Thank you!”
- It is the dragon’s duty to remember. And long have we stayed on these islands to remember. Yet we have also given counsel and guidance….and friendship to man and elf. That too, must be remembered. -
Suddenly the dragon shuddered beneath her, the great body rolling in shivers. Annalyth let out a small scream, and redoubled her grip.
- There is dust and destruction around the stone seal! I see demon glyphs, recently drawn in the forest! -
The dragon began to spiral downwards. Annalyth continued to scream as the muscles and scales shifted beneath her, throwing her this way and that. Keeping her hands upon the rope, she threw her arms about the plate, and held on for dear life. Drawing in deep breaths between her screams, she risked opening her eyes, and saw….
“Another Lustrian temple! Here in the interior!” Wonder gave her voice.
- It is of the Old Ones. But it is no temple. It is the prison of K’turu, the Deceiver. He who betrayed his brothers and made pact with the Four Powers! He is why we dragons must remember! -
“But something is wrong!” Annalyth yelled. As they drifted downwards she could see that the ziggurat lay in shambles, and the forest about it was both blackened and littered with pieces of the ruin.
“Look movement!” she pointed towards one edge of the ruin.
- I hear the hatchling! – Telmar unfurled its wings straight to its sides, catching the wind in a great boom, he slowed his descent as he drop straight toward the jungle below.
Suddenly there was a crack as of thunder, and Annalyth’s skin burned with the feeling of sorcery. A black mass of tentacles and darkness appeared in the sky, and latched onto Telmar. The dragon bellowed fire and rage, but the tendrils flung about its wings drawing them in close in a tangle. The dragon twisted and turned. And started to drop like a stone!
The bony plate she clutched went this way and that, and then smashed Annalyth in the forehead. She lost her grip. Screaming she slipped from the dragon’s back and fell. She saw her bag of things scattering through the sky next to her.
She slammed into the ground. Her body screamed in agony, yet she still lived. Nearby she could hear a thunderous crash. Looking over she saw Telmar, entangled in the black swirling mass. The scent of sorcery was thick in the air.
There! Stepping out of the ruin was one of the white-haired witches. Her face bloody, and scarred with flame. She hissed at Annalyth, and threw her hand in the girl’s direction. Fragments of ice, the size of kraken’s teeth, flew threw the air.
There was no time! Annalyth thought the symbols of Vaul and raised an incandescent shield before her. The Druchii witchcraft crashed upon it and dissipated. Still the force of the blow sent shudders through her body. Now on her feet, Annalyth made the sigil of Asuryan with her fingers. But before the pillar appeared the witch had scattered the winds with a wave of her hand. The witch smiled at her, past the ruins of her once beautiful face. Annalyth swallowed, and bared her teeth. Readying her hands. The witch lifted her own and suddenly the stones all about, dozens of them, lifted from the ground! And she could see a wicked gleam to each, as the Druchii sorcery crushed their edges to blades! They weaved through the air, and then shot at Annalyth.
Then, a twang! And the witch froze, staring down at the arrow protruding from her chest; the bloody arrowhead sticking inches forth from her breastbone. She fell to her knees and a bedgraggled, blood-stained figure staggered forth from the ruin, white bow in hand. It stopped right above the witch, drew, and loose! The force from the bow at so close a range meant the arrow did not stop until it buried itself in the forest floor. But twin streamers of blood spurted forth from opposite sides of the witch’s skull. She collapsed.
The tangles about the dragon instantly disappeared. Annalyth looked at the newcomer.
“Tim!” she wept. Barely recognizing him. It had been just days, but he looked like a lifetime separated them. His clothes all in tatters, and his skin pale and feverish.
“Anna’lis,” he mumbled. “Must go….great serpent….destroy all the Asur….”
She clutched his face. She could feel the poisons coursing through his veins. “Oh Tim, what did they do to you?” She called upon the Jade Wind, willing the poisons to still, drawing some of the most virulent out of him and into her. She fell to the ground.
“Anna’lis!” Tim cried, and clutched her into his arms.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered. “Just need time for the magic….” She looked past his shoulder and saw a curious sight: seated upon a stone was a little lizardling in the aspect of a man, holding a dragon hatchling. Tim glanced back.
“Don’t worry. It’s with me. Helped me get into cover.”
Telmar crawled over. – The third! - The hatchling squeaked as the little lizard thing held it upwards. Great dragon nuzzled the tiny hatchling. Then it turned to look at Tim. – What has happened here? –
Tim, staring with awe at the creature, glanced at Anna’lis. She smiled weakly and said, “Don’t worry. He’s with me.” Tim quickly explained.
- Foolish elves! K’turu will raze these lands of elf and dragon alike! He long remembers our enmity in his prison! Then he will make slaves of the mortals, and seek to carve dominion out of his ancient lands. A new age of darkness has come to the South! -
“We have to stop him!” Tim shouted. “He is heading to the coast and Keep. And the villages of the Asur!”
- Oh we will try to stop it! But there is little hope! - The dragon voice echoed. - Come. Climb upon my back. We must make speed! -
Little hope, Tim thought. Sounds familiar. Welcome to Nagarythe….. He helped Anna’lis upon the creature’s back and handed her the hatchling to hold. Then he glanced at the little lizard with hands. It looked back with lidless eyes. He beckoned. Chittering, it scampered with surprising speed upon the great drake’s back. Tim climbed up, and situated himself behind Anna’lis. The dragon’s wings unfurled, and then with a hiss and boom, leapt into the sky.
“Caledorians are crazy!” Tim called out to no one in particular, as he watched the world disappear below.
***
The monster was easy to follow. Its passage through the forest was marked by a furrow, fifty feet wide, unveiling the red clay beneath the forest topsoil. Then they could see flocks of birds rising out from the jungle canopy, until finally Tim could see the black coils of the creature itself, crushing stone and tree before its path. Traveling as straight as an arrow towards the southern peninsula.
The dragon passed over it. Tim clutching with his knees, drew forth his bow, and loosed a shot at the monstrosity below.
- Shadow Warrior. You loose pointed sticks at an Old God! They will cause no harm. -
Anna’lis looked back at him with a cross expression.
“It didn’t hurt to try,” Tim grumbled.
“What will we do?” the elf maiden called to the dragon.
- No craft of dragon or elf is fell enough to harm K’turu! But there is a way! The Oldest built barriers to entrap the traitor! We can use those to give us the time we need! -
Before him Tim could see The Wall, rising. There! The border to the lands of the Asur. This time seen from the north. Hundreds of feet tall, the grey stone towered. And yet now, with the force and fury that was now barring down upon it, it seemed not nearly enough.
- The barrier will grant us time, to…. -
Thunder roared somewhere ahead. The dragon bellowed in surprise. Tim could see it now. A long crack had appeared within the face of the wall. Stones upon its upper ramparts began to cascade downwards.
“I see something! Take us down!” Tim cried. The dragon alighted upon the top of the Wall; the structure was so massive in girth as well as height that the great drake was easily able to settle upon its top. The structure had lasted untold millennia. It seemed as solid as the mountains themselves! But now cracks were spreading. The Wall seemed to shiver under its own weight.
And before them Tim could see piles of barrels. Stacked within ancient grooves within the wall. Dawi blackpowder! He realized. And there, standing with torch in hand….
“Vala!” he called, stunned beyond belief. “What are you doing?!”
She looked at him, fear in her eyes. “Come no closer, Nagarathi!” She held the torch over the nearest of the barrels. “One more detonation, and the wall will be breached!”
“Vala, you can’t!” Anna’lis cried. “There is a vile monster even now making its way towards the dominion! It will consume all the Asur!”
“It is better this way,” the shaven-headed scribe said solemnly.
“What are you talking about?!” Tim shouted. “The beast was unleashed by the Druchii. It is pure evil!”
“The Druchii are already here. They will rule where the Phoenix failed!” she said back. “Failed! Yes! Here the heat and the forest vapors drove the Asur mad! Or made us weak…. Like mortals,” she whispered. “They said we were like mortals. He said it!” She turned to them wild-eyed. “We give them civilization and tools, and raise them from their barbarity! And now they claim to be our equals?! Equals!! They wish to live with Asur. To…breed with us?! Never! And the Prince of Spires, he is considering putting a mortal…. A beast just little more than a monkey! Onto his council!”
“This is about men? Here in the colony?” Tim cried aghast. “Vala, this is madness!”
- Enough!! - The dragon roared.
“Telmar, wait!” Anna’lis screamed. But in vain; the great drake unleashed a torrent of flame upon the Asur scribe. And as dragon flame touched Dawi powder, the very air shook.
Silence flooded Tim. In a detached sense he could see the wall fleeing from his feet. Grey ash billowing everywhere. The sky, now a storm-filled wall of grey, seemed to be rushing down to greet him. But then it hesitated. And began to recede. And he fell, jarring his shoulder. He sprawled, banging along the inner surface of the wall. Vines and streamers tore at him. He clutched frantically about. The vines tore with snaps. But his fall began to slow.
“Tim!” he could hear Anna’lis cry. He looked up; the little man-lizard was seated some ways above, looking down at him with a curious expression. Tim began to climb. The lizard hauled on the vines. In moments, the creature and Anna’lis’ hands were pulling him above the wall’s edge. Gasping he looked up. He could see the white dragon shaking its head, as if trying to stop a ringing in its ears.
Tim looked at Anna’lis. She was staring at him frantically.
“Dragon fire. Blackpowder,” he said and winced.
- The Wall will not hold K’turu for long now. It’s magic is broken. - He could hear the dragon mourn.
Tim rolled over. He could see the great Wall now split as if by a massive wedge right down its center.
“What can we do?” Tim gasped.
- We need time. Time to rouse the Last. The Guardian. Only he has the power to stop K’turu! –
Tim nodded his head. “Take Anna’lis, and the others. Go rouse this guardian! I will stall the creature.”
Anna’lis looked at him in fear, as he pushed her towards the dragon.
“Tim! No! I’ll stay too….”
-No! To awaken the Guardian we need the essence of Dragon, Slaan, and Elf. Only the blood of the First Alliance will release him from his sleep. -
“Go!” Tim shouted again. “I will give you the time you need!”
***
Tim stood at the edge of the wall, alone. Fragments along its heights still occasionally crumbled and fell, ending in mighty clashes with the forest far below. The rift in its center was just to his right. The raw exposed stone inside seeming now like a wound. The storm clouds swirled overhead. Coating the world with buckets of rain. Lightning flickered in the distance. But it was growing closer.
A long hour had passed as Tim watched it approach, bow in one hand, arrow in the other. God. Or Demon. He had no idea what it was. He didn’t care. He just needed it to die. And die quickly! Before Anna’lis got hurt….
What did Tanith always say about fighting hydras? Aim for the soft spots…
He could see the forest in the distant tumbling as something massive burrowed its way through it. He could hear the rumble of the trees as they collapsed beneath the gargantuan’s weight.
I hope it has a soft spot….
He just needed to focus its attention. Just distract it. Give the dragon its time. Time for a miracle.
He hoped.
And there it was, the mighty black serpent! He could make out its smooth head and endless coils of its passing. It was coming to the Wall, and its fractured center.
He hoped some more. And then he flung himself upon the edge, and took aim at the massive serpent’s glowing green eye. He released….
And then could hear the tiniest of sounds, like of a fingernail struck on crystal.
But the serpent’s head turned upwards. Unwordly, unfathomable eyes were fixed upon him. Green flames burned within. And beyond them…. A cosmos of stars.
He swallowed. “I am Narrin’Tim, Shadow….”
A bout of green fire emerged from the serpent’s mouth consuming the face of the Wall. Tim threw himself backwards out of its path. Yet still he could feel its ferocious heat. His tattered boots seemed to sizzle. The flame stopped. And darkness loomed; overhead the great hooded serpent’s head slowly rose. Dwarfing Tim, the Wall, everything under its shadow.
Tim loosed his bow. This time aiming for the beast’s open mouth. The arrow disappeared past fangs the size of a hawkship mast. Then springing to his feet he ran down the length of the wall, and towards the next gap. He could hear the explosion of stone behind him as the wall shuddered under the impact of the serpent’s strike. Leaping, he cleared the next gap. And then stopped at its edge, waiting.
Coils and coils of the serpent’s body were now atop the Wall, as it slithered down towards the lone Shadow Warrior. The fires in its emerald eyes seemed to have redoubled in their fury.
Tim slowly blew out his breath, and grabbed the prepared arrow. One way or another, he thought.
The serpent drew itself to its black heights above the tiny Nagarathi. Tim put arrow to string.
Then the hood plunged. Fangs and maw, and nightmares, all came striking down towards Tim. The Shadow Warrior threw himself back across the gap, rolling as he hit. Again the wall shuddered with the power of the black serpent’s strike. But as Tim came out of his roll, he aimed the prepared arrow, the one wrapped with flaming cloth, and aimed it into the stone trench. And the barrels of waiting Dawi blackpowder.
The explosion came. Tim saw sky and tree. Coils aflame. And a black mist oozing over the wall like blood. All in that eerie silence. He felt something smash into his back, and then he was flying through the air, held in mighty dragon’s talons. He saw Telmar’s golden eyes fixed upon him. His ears were still ringing, and blood ran freely from them, and his nose.
- There! - Telmar cried. - Behold! The last of the Old Ones! Hanuman, the Guardian! And jailor of K’turu! -
Tim saw but couldn’t understand anything. He saw a massive ape. The size of a tower. It came lumbering out of the forest of the peninsula interior, bellowing as it came. The serpent, black bile oozing from it’s maimed body. Rose and hissed. Green flame belched forth. The ape was covered in it. But then the giant beast leapt to the top of the wall, still howling in rage. Suddenly the two giants were among each other. Black serpent coil looped about ape arm and leg! While clawed fists closed about bloody throat. The storm raged overhead. Lightning flickered, striking the wall and surrounding forest, alternating between green and red. The serpent belched flame again into the face of its foe. But the mighty fists refused to let go, continuing to squeeze, and crush.
The serpent was thrashing now. In desperation it struck down, sinking fangs into hairy arm. Black venom coursed outwards, and the great ape roared in pain. The lightning redoubled in intensity. Striking both of the colossuses. They raged; raged across the top of the Wall, each in a death embrace on the other. And as they raged their forms seem to glow in an eerie luminescence. Serpent green to red ape.
Then finally, the light in the serpent’s eyes grew dim… The emerald lightning began to abate. The ape-god continued to crush, rage in its eyes. The serpent’s thrashing turned weaker, and weaker. And then the eyes turned black. The scales of the body faded. Until Tim could only see a streamer, like an opening in the night sky filled with stars, stretching where the serpent once was. And then nothing.
The ape howled to the sky above. Almost in a pleading tone. The veins of its envenomed arm now turned black, stretching into its chest and throat. The thing collapsed, upon the wall. Its black eyes gazing into the storm above. Slowly the sky began to part, and a band of stars were unveiled. The ape reached upwards. And then, it too, was no more.
***
- Victory!! - Telmar cried. - For now! At least for this age! The world is freed of this curse! -
Anna’lis was helping Tim upon the dragon’s back. She looked over his shoulder.
“Wait! The Keep is burning!”
***
And just a little 'tip of the hat' to the 1933 classic....
[quote="Seredain"]Headshot, you are wise like Yoda[/quote]
Hmm, maybe it counts Druchii as 'Asuryan's Children' too. Perhaps she shouldn't have said that...
PS. Damn! You wrote a new part whilst I was catching up on the others! Hmm, I'll read it later...
"I say the Eatainii were cheating - again." -Aicanor "Eatainian jerks…" -Headshot "It was a little ungentlemanly." -Aicanor (on the Eatainii) "What is it with Eataini being blamed for everything?" -Aicanor
Vala set fire to the keep before travelling to the wall? Tim did an amazing job distracting the daemon.
[url=http://www.ulthuan.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=34506][i]Lord Elessehta Silverbough of Ar Yvrellion, Ruler of Athel Anarhain, Prince of the Yvressi.[/i][/url]
[quote="Narrin’Tim"]These may be the last days of the Asur, but if we are to leave this world let us do it as the heroes of old, sword raised against evil![/quote]
Elessehta of Yvresse wrote:Vala set fire to the keep before travelling to the wall? Tim did an amazing job distracting the daemon.
This is the thing. If this was an Old One, why on Earth did it stop to fight someone who shot an arrow at its eye?! That is one stupid creature.
Good writing though, nice to see the. Reunited and one of the witches dead.
"I say the Eatainii were cheating - again." -Aicanor "Eatainian jerks…" -Headshot "It was a little ungentlemanly." -Aicanor (on the Eatainii) "What is it with Eataini being blamed for everything?" -Aicanor
).
Haha but then again I think Tim has them right where he wants them.. Away from Anna and up close 
Lol yes troublesome indeed.
Hmm, I'll read it later...