AZAKUL
02:14 Apr 17 2006
Times Read: 738
this is another excerpt from my book. i put it in for fun because it's a chapter with two kick ass chicks - Nox the dark sorceress and Eliasyl the elfin archer and Nox's lover, and they meet the nasty black dragon Azakul. what more could a person want on a Sunday afternoon? nothing, that's what. well, a glass of wine would be nice. so i'll post this then head out to the store. enjoy.
Azakul
After wandering the coast for the better part of the morning, they followed a mostly dry ravine up towards its source. A small creek trickled out of the mouth of a large cave. Nox smelled it first, her nostrils flaring at the scent of acid and sulfur: Dragon.
They climbed over the rocks and splashed to the other side of the creek where the going looked easier. Eliasyl lit her lantern at the mouth of the cave. They nodded to each other and entered the wet, oppressive gloom before them.
The cave turned out to be a passage, which branched off several times. They stuck to the creek, figuring at least they wouldn’t get lost this way. They knew it was the right track, as the smell became more powerful. Eliasyl choked as a wave of the acrid stench wafted over her, burning the back of her throat. Nox noticed the acidic feel to the air and the reek of sulfur, but it did not seem to bother her as it did her elfin companion. Again, it seemed as though her senses were changing - her hearing was becoming acutely attuned. And something else struck her, an understanding which was a feeling more than anything else. For the first time since her body had begun the transformation she had been going through, she felt as though all of it made a strange kind of sense.
She stopped Eliasyl with a raised hand, listening. Somewhere, close by, something was breathing. Something very large. The hairs went up on the back of her neck and she reached out to Eliasyl for support as she swayed forwards. Dragons, so the legends said, slept for long periods of time, and when she had heard the sound, she had expected and hoped for the rhythmic breathing of sleep. What she heard, and what had sent a wave of fear through her that made her think she might be sick, was not rhythmic and sedate, but guarded and alert. He knew they were there.
Eliasyl held her steady and stared into her eyes, silently asking what was wrong. Nox only looked ahead, gathering her courage to take the next step. As soon as they did move onward, Eliasyl felt it, the nauseating fear hitting her like the pounding of the ocean surf. She stumbled back a step, staring ahead but suddenly wanting to just go back the way they had come.
Nox put her hand on her shoulder, turning her to come eye to eye. They drew strength from each other, and courage began to course through their veins once again. Eliasyl grit her teeth and Nox nodded her head. They would go on.
They followed the passage, stepping on the slippery rocks as quietly as they could, wincing at every misstep or sound they made. The air became oppressive, muting their sounds with its heaviness, but all the same, Nox couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being listened to very carefully. The passage opened up eventually into a huge cavern, stalactites dropping from the ceiling to meet their cousin stalagmites on the floor, water dripping between the two of them in perpetual greeting. Eliasyl held the lantern before her, and both of them gasped. In the center of the cavern was a pile of gold ten feet high at its center, and filling half of the chamber. Chests were overflowing with jewels and gilded cups. Strings of pearls draped over swords buried to the hilt in the pile. Weapons and armor lay strewn about in a haphazard manner. Nox thought that everything seemed to be left like an unkempt bedroom. She didn’t realize how right she was.
The feeling of fear slammed into them again like a punch to the chest. Eliasyl grabbed Nox’s hand and squeezed it tight. They both braced themselves as if for an attack. Then he spoke.
“What do you want?” boomed the voice. The acoustics of the cavern made it impossible to say from where the voice had come.
“We come in search of your help.” Nox swallowed hard, her throat dry.
Silence. Then, laughter, quiet at first, building up louder into a hearty roar. A cascade of coins fell from the mound before them. Eliasyl looked to Nox, who had seen it also.
“Amusing,” said the voice. Nox was watching the shadows cast by the torch. Something was wrong with the mound of gold. A shadow was falling across the top of it.
“Oh, you’re quick ones,” said the voice, echoing throughout the cavern, followed again by a silence which made them hold their breath and listen. They heard nothing. Nox’s senses seemed to be back to normal, and she was left wondering about the strange elation she had felt earlier. Now she just felt small and scared. The voice spoke again. “All right then.”
A form began to take shape on the pile of treasure. It was huge. They saw the eyes first, big green orbs with black vertical slits. Then came his head. The mouth was big enough to swallow a man whole. Black scales covered most of his body, freckled with an occasional lurid color of green. He casually reposed his massive bulk on the golden bed, leathery wings folded against his back, and his spiked tail whipped back and forth like a cat. The dragon watched them while drumming talons over the top of an overflowing chest of loot. His top lip curled back in a permanent snarl.
“You, want my help?” He laughed again, amused.
Nox bowed her head in a formal greeting.
“Great Azakul, we are here to -”
The dragon let out a short, earsplitting roar and rose up onto his haunches, as if about to spring. Acid dripped from his mouth and melted whatever it hit below.
“You know my name?” his voice thundered, echoing in the cavern.
His anger could be felt, a tangible force which made Eliasyl grip Nox’s hand tighter. But in an instant, Nox no longer felt small and afraid. Her skin burned in the presence of the dragon, and her eyes began to shine, much like his own. She felt as though her body were remembering something, recognizing the power in him, responding to him. “I know many things, Old Master.” She held out her arms, revealing the small, soft scales running up her forearms.
The dragon’s fury would not be contained by words, however, and he turned his head and breathed. Acid spewed from his mouth, splattering over the cavern wall beside him, melting a new passage into the rock, ten feet deep. The blast ended up on a suit of mail, melting it down to its elements.
Azakul turned his face back towards them. Nox and Eliasyl had taken an involuntary step back. “So you think you know me? You, some servant who has undergone a petty transformation. Probably from that damned island, no?”
“I serve none. I do not know what happened there. I simply observe the changes, and I know your name because I asked you.”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed. He spoke to Nox, now without his mouth. The voice came into her head, pounding the sides of her skull.
A HUMAN WHO CAN USE HER MIND. WELL, I HAVE UNDERESTIMATED YOU, HAVEN’T I?
She held her hands to her temples, dropping to her knees with the pain. Eliasyl reached for an arrow.
“No,” Nox held out a hand to her.
TELL ME THEN, SORCERESS, WHY ARE YOU HERE?
“Please, stop,” she pleaded. Her nose was bleeding down her face and she thought her head would burst, when suddenly the pain stopped. The dragon reclined back onto his bed of gold, apparently pleased with the results before him.
It took Nox a minute to compose herself, shaking in the aftermath of the pain, and wiping the blood away with the back of her hand. Eliasyl helped her to her feet.
“We have come to find a door.” She paused, still catching her breath. “A gateway.”
“So?” asked the dragon.
“We believe you have knowledge of it.” Nox gently rubbed her temple. The pain was almost gone, and she was left only with the memory of it; the endorphins pulsing through her veins making her muscles twitch.
“Why do you seek the door?”
Eliasyl was getting impatient. She stepped forward.
“A great hero has been slain before his time. We are here to set things right,” she said, looking up into the great beast’s eyes.
“Who asked you?” The force of his presence made her step back. Eliasyl realized that she was trembling. She grit her teeth and forced her weak knees to remain locked, otherwise she feared she would fall to the floor. The dragon regarded Nox once again.
“The only reason I suffer your presence is because of your markings. I despise those of my kind on that accursed island, but I will honor the ancient ways. My patience, however, is limited.” The dragon snorted, acid dripping again down his snout and sizzling onto the gold below.
Nox bowed her head.
“What makes you believe I should care about some human hero?” asked Azakul.
“He was the defender of a new way, and upheld a code which honored the ancient ways.”
“Who killed him?”
“The Empire,” replied Nox, hate in her voice.
“Ahhh, yes,” said Azakul. “The Empire. I hate them too. Their ‘tehxnologie’ is something which steals the magic from the flow. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“The flow has weakened in the past several centuries. Not so much that one so short lived as yourself would notice, but I see it. I feel it. I wake from slumber, and a hundred years have gone by, only to see that they are still crawling over the earth, and that they have depleted the force which gives me strength. I have been waiting for your kind to get rid of them, but they are still there, trying to change the way things should be.”
“This is why, Great One, that the Hero was so important.”
The dragon studied her. His eyes had a way of boring into her. She could feel him probing her thoughts, and she was afraid to resist him. She didn’t want to feel that pain again, but it was second nature to her to put up a defense against a psychic attack.
The dragon sniffed, seeming to lose interest. Or perhaps he had already seen what he needed. He picked his teeth with a long curved talon.
“I sense you do not tell me all,” he said. “There is a young god which has been born to the world.”
“The Hero was her defender. She was in danger, and he died defending her.”
“Very heroic. What happened to the god?”
“She changed,” replied Nox, who wasn’t sure exactly what had happened to Ishtar. “She turned into stone.”
The dragon’s lips turned upwards in a wicked imitation of a smile.
“She is a turtle, hiding in her shell until it is safe again,” he said. “Interesting story, and I will spare your lives for interrupting my slumber with such a heartwarming tale. You have given me food for my dreams. But now, I tire of you. You may go.”
Nox and Eliasyl stood dumb. They hadn’t actually thought they would fail – they had been so intent on just getting here. They had each secretly feared being eaten, but hadn’t expected to be simply dismissed like servants.
Eliasyl found strength in her legs again, and stepped forward, one hand on her sword hilt, the other defiantly on her hip.
“You must help us. You yourself said you want the Empire defeated. Yet you remain here, doing nothing.”
“Silence!” roared the dragon.
Eliasyl stood motionless. Nox looked to her, realizing that she was absolutely still; she had been frozen in time.
“I will keep her to play with later, but you may still go.”
Nox stepped forwards, before Eliasyl. Anikki cawed loudly. The bird shared Nox’s emotions, and as long as she did not flee, it would remain on her shoulder. Nox stared up at the huge black reptilian creature, and shook her head.
“No,” she said.
Now it was the dragon’s turn to be surprised.
“No?” he asked.
“I will not go,” said Nox.
Azakul’s green eyes blazed. He pulled his weight up on his front legs, and dragged himself across the mound of treasure towards her, pushing aside thousands of pounds of gold like a lizard moving through sand.
His face was right before hers, huge nostrils breathing hot acid breath onto her face. Her eyes stung and began to tear, but she did not turn away.
“What did you say?” demanded the dragon.
Nox held her ground. Again she felt as though her newly changing body made sense to her. She didn’t remember exactly what had happened on that island, but looking up at Azakul, she suddenly realized just what it was which was happening to her. And why.
“I said, I will not go. I will not abandon my friend, nor my quest. You said you would honor the old ways. Whether you like the source of what I am or not, I am still of the blood. The blood in your veins flows in mine. If you have any honor, you must recognize that.”
“Your blood is not pure, halfbreed.”
“Regardless,” said Nox, “the blood runs true.”
“What do you know of the old ways?”
“Not much,” replied Nox. “Though I have been to the island, I remember almost none of it. But in the past, I have studied what men have written, and I have probed the minds of sages.”
“Yes, you do have that power.” The dragon seemed to think for a moment. Then her head was searing agony once again.
OPEN YOUR MIND TO ME HALFBREED. LET ME SEE WHAT YOU HAVE SEEN.
Nox could not resist him. Her mind felt like it was boiling. She screamed, and her defenses dropped. She just wanted it to stop. She fell to the floor, holding her hands over her ears. She could feel the dragon’s mind entering hers. It was a force which could tear a door off its hinges. He was looking through her memories like a rough hand flipping through a book. She didn’t get used to the pain. She was screaming over and over, writhing around on the floor.
He seemed to find something, for the rummaging stopped, and the pain became less. She still sobbed and convulsed. She could see what he was seeing. It was a hidden memory she hadn’t been aware of.
She was on the Dragon Isle, sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea. Beside her was the massive form of a dragon, stretched along the edge of the cliff, propping its huge head up on its palm, its elbow dug into the green turf. Its body was covered in silver scales, which glittered brilliantly in the lazy afternoon sun.
“What do you feel?” asked the dragon in a voice like velvet.
Nox looked out to the sea. She seemed to see something there, behind the reflected light. Something more than just the tactile reality of the waves, the clouds, the gulls circling below. She had felt this before, like a curtain being drawn back, when she was weaving the threads of a spell, but this was different. It was much stronger, and unlike spell weaving, the effects were lasting.
“I feel like I can see.”
“You are beginning to at least. But for a time, you will forget.”
Nox looked into the slitted eyes of the silver dragon.
“Why?” She was almost pleading with her.
“Because,” replied the dragon, “you must come to understand these things slowly, over time. Otherwise, such a feeling of power can corrupt the mind, or drive it insane. You are human, but now you share my blood. All of us share the same blood, back to the ancient nameless one. You must come to respect the power you have been given.”
“I am strong,” said Nox.
“Of course you are strong, why else would we choose you? But the old ways must be observed.”
Nox looked back out to sea, watching the subtle yet immeasurably powerful force, which moved behind the water, the sky, the gulls.
Azakul left her mind in a rush which heaved her body up in a final convulsion and a scream of agony. She lay there sobbing for several minutes, until she was able to even know where she was. She raised her head to see the dragon brooding, staring past her into a space only he saw. Nox was still reeling, dizzy from the endorphins her body had once again released to combat the pain.
“So,” said Azakul, bringing his gaze upon her. “You are truly one of the blood.” He was quiet for a while, watching her, thinking. “I am getting old perhaps, if I underestimate you so much. For Nyirkaz to give you her blood, that is something indeed.” He fell silent again.
Nox raised herself up onto her elbows with a shudder and looked up at the dragon.
“You know her.”
Azakul was looking into the distance of the past, and did not reply.
“Who is she? Why can I remember nothing?”
Finally, the dragon brought its huge eyes down upon her. He dug his hand into the pile of gold and held it up, letting the coins trickle out between his fingers like so many grains of sand. “Nyirkaz believes there will come a day when the dragons no longer oppose each other, when types like her and I will agree upon certain ideals, and that we will reclaim our position in the multiverse. We were once immortal, like the gods, you know. I, for one don’t give a damn about immortality. I want to die, sometime. But I would like to pay a few of the gods a visit. Especially the meddling ones of the Grey Plains.
“Nyirkaz can believe what she wants. But I say this to you: a time may come when the Dragons such as I -” his cruel eyes glowed as he regarded her, “- will need the help of those such as you.” He leaned his face in close to hers. “Do you pledge to give that help, sorceress?”
Again she could smell the acid from his breath. It burned her eyes and made her cough. She picked herself up off the ground, trying to stand proud, but couldn’t help the shaking tremors which ran through her body. She swallowed again, a dry lump in her throat.
“Yes,” she managed to choke out.
There was a long silence. Then Azakul drew back and said, “I will show you the door.”
“And my friend?” Nox gestured to the inanimate figure of Eliasyl.
The dragon snorted. Nox got the impression that he had looked forward to ‘playing’ with Eliasyl, the way a cat might with a mouse. Azakul seemed to shrug his shoulders, and Eliasyl took a quick breath and staggered forward. She blinked her eyes and turned to Nox.
“Are you all right?” She held Nox in her arms, caressing her head and kissing her face. “I saw you in such pain, and was screaming to help you, but I was stuck -”
Nox held her hands and calmed her with a strong look.
“I am all right now,” said Nox. “I think that the great master Azakul has taught me a fine lesson in the power of the mind.”
Azakul laughed wickedly. He began crawling over the side of the pile of treasure towards the rear of the cave. Nox and Eliasyl waited until his barbed tail had cleared their space, and then followed from several yards back.
On the other side of the pile, the cavern reached back further than they had been able to see before. They strode for a hundred paces before they reached the far wall. Azakul stopped and turned his great head to them.
“Here,” he said, nodding towards the wall.
They saw only a rock wall. They both looked to him, wondering what he meant. His nostrils flared, and his wicked mockery of a smile returned to his face, prompting them to look away, back to the wall. It had changed. No longer was it a rock wall, but had opened up into a large round portal, with ornate carvings around its edges. Magical symbols, Nox realized, but ancient ones, for she only vaguely recognized a few of them.
“I am the keeper of this portal; it leads to many other realms. Some of us were charged eons ago to guard certain secrets. This is mine.” His voice carried a sense of bitterness, but also a certain degree of pride.
“Will we come back this way?” asked Nox.
“No,” he replied. “You will go elsewhere. I do not know where. Now, what plane of existence are you seeking?”
“We do not know,” said Nox. “We only have this to guide us.” She pulled out the key which the eccentric hermit Bet-Mutasim had given her and held it up for the dragon to see.
“That will be enough, if you keep your mind focused on your quest. You will travel the shadow realm for a time. If you survive, and if your key is correct, you will come out where you seek.” The great dragon moved his huge bulk back, away from the portal, talons scratching into the marble flagstones. His tail swished through the air as he regarded them, as though he still had a notion to eat them.
Nox bowed low, and this time Eliasyl followed suit.
“We thank you, Old Master,” said Nox.
Azakul said nothing, just watched them, huge green eyes unblinking.
Nox took Eliasyl by the hand, and together, they entered the portal.
~ Vincent & Miranda ~ Part I
07:18 Apr 09 2006
Times Read: 764
Vincent and Miranda
A Children's Story For Adults
~the true part I, but written much later, and in a very lazy state, and long-windedly, so I ask your indulgence~
There was once a little boy named Vincent. and a little girl named Miranda. They were twins. The second word written above, and the one which deserves a bit more stress than the others, is, or rather, and this is the stress part, was : once. for it was a very, very long time ago that they were once little, although they were never as small as they seemed to be - for now they are indeed bigger, but not nearly as big as they ought to be... I see this paragraph is going nowhere in a hurry -- and this time the stress is on nowhere, or perhaps hurry, you decide, so let's call this one quits and move quite on --
to the next one. You see, the problem with talking about Vincent and Miranda is that they defy any kind of normal definition, in a way, resisting the words themselves which would describe them. To say they were beautiful children is a misnomer, for indeed they were radiant as the sun - one had to shield one's eyes at times, especially if they were laughing (and even more especially if they were laughing at you).
Their laughter - Orpheus wrote songs about their laughter. But that's another story entirely, and I see I haven't enough pages, (or indeed even your attention), to go off into the tale of orphee. Let's keep to this story, yes? yes.
Ok, now, Vincent and Miranda were indeed once children, but then again they were not. Going in circles again, I know, but patience makes the grass grow as they say in slower parts of the world... To be concise, Vincent and Miranda looked like children. But here's the trick: they weren't children at all. They were, and this part is going to need just a little bit of effort on your part to be believable, so get ready to believe (otherwise the story really is no fun at all - nor is life for that matter). Vincent and Miranda really were not children at all, they were actaully... ready? demons. There, I said it. And it's true. Do you believe me? If no, then just stop now and I'll save the paper I'm writing this on for something else.
Still reading? Ah, wonderful, you're a believer. That's what any story worth reading needs. And it is true that Vincent and Miranda looked like beautiful twin children, which in itself is a little creepy, if you let your mind go that direction, but remember they were radiant, but looks can be deceiving and they were really demons freshly escaped from the 4th plane of the Abyss. How they got out is yet another story, and a good one, and which is actually linked to the aforementioned Orpheus story, but which you will recall I am not writing about today. Let it suffice to say that they made it out (with their pants on fire) and in - into the the fresh young bodies of two rather surprised children. In they jumped, dowsed their britches in the first available snowbank (luckily it was winter when they arrived) and howled like banshees "We made it! Ha ha ha suckers!! We made it out!" And after a moment's reflection and observation of their new forms they said quietly as one, "and in."
And in that instant, gone were the souls of the children, and to stay were those of our heros. not to worry, the children's souls got hight marks in the next life, for they were entirely blameless in all of this. As blameless as a birdhouse.
And so you can see how it is at once true and not true to say that Vincent and Miranda were beautiful little children, for as we all know, beauty is not only on the outside. When your insides are bottomless pits of cruelty, sucking the life out of everything pure -
- no, no, no - I have gone too far. I am in jeopardy of painting a rather grim picture of our beloved twins. To be fair, their souls are best described thus:
They are not evil, not truly. That's why they never got on so well in the many Hells. No, not evil. But most assuredly not good. Rather, Vincent and Miranda, technically demons, (and even more technically, demon Lords - a Lord and a Lady to be sure) simply, utterly, completely lacked a conscience. If they did something rather nasty to someone, it wasn't so much out of malice, but rather out of a twisted sense of curiosity.
And so, thus begins the tale of Vincent and Miranda, freshly arrived out of the 4th plane of the Abysmal dimension of Hades, freshly arrived into the fresh young bodies of twin nine-year-olds, and now fresh and ready for new adventures, exploits and mischief (which had landed them in Hell in the first place - yes, another story, but I see I have so little paper now and perhaps even less of your patience, but remember the grass... and so we'll just have to make every word count from now on, so I'm counting on you - good word play there, eh? - to believe the words without too much more convincing).
So the story begins and so it stays for about 100 years. They liked being children because it was so easy to trick people, for not only were they radiant, they were also simply adorable. So they stayed like that for a while.
Our story, however, begins on the 99th year of their Earthly exploits, where their last adventure as children takes place. For things are soon to transpire which prompts them to allow their little bodies to go from 9 to 19 in eleven minutes: one to get started and then one minute per year, or year per minute. whatever. (Their puberty was the three minutes from Hell. Seriously). Oh they grow up so fast... and so, from the place in the story when the escape took place - the escape from Hell -
...99 years later...
"Hey Vincent," she says, crinkling her nose.
"Yes, Miranda my sweet," replies Vincent, re-lighting his pipe, a long fluted affair of embossed silver and ancient by even his standards.
"You smell that?"
"It's the tobacco. It's laced." He exhales the blue smoke slowly, watching it curl about, thin wisps of dragons circling the chandelier above.
She stops sniffing for a moment and cocks her head at him. "With what?"
"Poison."
"Hmmm. Well," she muses. "No, it's not that.It's something else entirely."
Vincent seems to get the scent, for he crinkles his nose along with her and tilts his head, as though listening to the smell.
"Smells like -" They both look at each other and together they say -
"Trouble!!"
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