Chapter XII
. How to Rift: For Beginners .
- Seventh Age, year 718
“Savill!”
No one to answer.
“Don’t bother, she can’t hear you.”
“Well obviously, but where did she go?”
“Into the rifts, of course. Where else could she have gone?” Duraan sighed, withdrawing his presence a bit and licking at a paw in a nonchalant matter. It angered Aviin every time he acted this way, usually when a serious matter was upon them. Then, it was his way of sorting things out, but nonetheless, it wasn’t very well mannered.
It wasn’t human.
He laughed at that one, as did I.
“I thought that she just fell into a state of sleep, though. Not disappeared entirely.”
“Yes, that’s what normally would happen. But you have to understand this; usually it’s only her conscience that goes in, and nothing else.”
What did he mean? It took a few moments for Aviin to process his words, and what they had alluded to. “You mean to say that this time, she herself as gone into the rifts, and it’s not just some dream? Like the ones that I had?”
“No, certainly not. More than just her mind and her body have traveled through the planes and into another realm of existence, you understand. Her soul, her spirit, everything that is and was her, is there.”
Aviin stared down at the place where she had been standing only moments before.
“And not here….”
. Changelings .
Perhaps you would benefit from knowing a bit more of what we have in concern.
It wasn’t so much that they were a vile and terrible race that made them a distaste to the world. In fact, that’s not altogether an uncommon thing. Think of that man, the one that causes your skin to itch and writhe when he speaks, to cause your very center to shake in fear or anger or repulse at what he is. All because of something he did or something he said.
That man, the one that you hate so much, whoever he might be, is no different than these.
They once had been someone’s brother or father, a husband, a wife, a friend.
Now?
I’ll allow them to explain that themselves.
First, there is only a knowing that something strange has come upon you. Not altogether an oddity in life, as there are times when the early signs of an illness or the changing of weather can do the same, but there will be a definite difference to what you have felt, and that will be imminent as it will not come from the heart, or from the stomach.
Or even a conjured emotion of the mind.
It will radiate from your senses, whispering into your ears, caressing the skin, blindly sniffing at your nose and leaving behind a trace of breath upon your lips.
The eyes are the first to go.
It comes as a pressing upon the corners of your vision, tightening them a bit, causing that sensation you get when you’ve gotten a fleck of dust underneath the lid. You’ll scratch, and to no avail. It stays, because you have invited it in, and what sort of host would up and refuse to accept the guest that they have formally asked to enter? Something you simply cannot do.
The world begins to change, or rather, the way you look at it, and shapes take on new forms as you recognize that all is not as it seems. Many who you thought your friends are in fact your enemy, plotting to take what is rightfully yours, to debase you and steal away all that is precious to you.
Then the ears, as they close, and everything fades into a beautiful, and muffled silence.
Everyone begins to spout so many malevolent words, but they fall on a deaf hearer, one who has shut them out and become isolated in a net of careful waiting.
Seeping through the cracks comes the sound of so many evil intentions, all directed towards you.
All moving in for the kill.
You then begin to smell the fear, and also the hatred of the world. It permeates into your nostrils, flaring. It warns of a revolution to come, one that does not see you in the picture.
Crusty layers form over your skin, a natural carapace to protect the treasure hidden inside. You become immortal, because you cannot kill that which is not alive, and how would they ever find you locked away in so much protection? Each stabbing blow as painful as the last.
Leaving no scars.
And lastly, the taste of an ultimate victory, over all things, that tingles as it rests upon bloodless lips, something you don’t need once you’ve left the mortal realm.
And what have you become?
Something truly beautiful, my dear Reader. A masterpiece, painted by only the most delicate and articulate of hands.
This is the Orr-Tav.
This is what you are.
It’s in each of you to become something so great, believe me.
. Waiting Between Worlds, Again .
- Seventh Age, year 718
Chips flew past his head, lodging in his eye on occasion and causing him to sprout a new string of harsh words, and hack a little harder at the fallen tree.
“Just wait.”
That’s what Duraan had said. But wait for what? For the world to end? It sure seemed that way to him, but Aviin also knew that he was over reacting to the situation.
He wasn’t angry at anyone but himself, sometimes it was just hard to show that and make everyone else understand.
“She has to come back eventually, and she’ll be right here where we left her.” The cat chuckled as he stumbled upon a mistake in the form of a paradox. “Or rather, she left us.”
A few more angry swings of the arm, and he was through, kicking at the now sectioned log until it cracked from its hold and rolled a few paces down the slope. He’d volunteered to collect firewood, but now he was angry that he was doing anything at all. What he really wanted was to sit down, and do nothing.
The wonders that does for the soul.
But little time was available to waste. There was no telling when their assailants might return, and they were already making plans to leave for a safer location. Supplies had to be gathered and scrounged from the rubble and surrounding area. And Aviin knew that this tattered and ragged group of old women could never cart along several sick and wounded members and hope to reach any sort of civilization unless they were well supplied.
The boy, a spritely thing that was all legs and no brains, had managed to find three Toraq still locked away in a field somewhere. Skittish and nearly frightened to death, but still of use, and grateful to finally be with something that they recognized as friend and not foe.
Aviin had tracked the Kuruteill a short distance, pinpointing their chosen direction as a northeastern heading. For the mountains, of course. And where else would they go?
The brutes had made a mess of everything that they touched, and already the burying of the dead was taking far longer than it should have.
Of course, it was no help that all the workers that were to be had seemed to spend more time dabbing at their eyes than actually digging. Could they be blamed, though? Many of these people were their kinsfolk, their blood and their family, if not, then friend and neighbor. Everyone knew something of one another, and with each plot being covered over, another stitch of those tapestries unraveled itself into a split end.
He had a few of those himself.
The tree was taking the brunt of his release, even though it didn’t really deserve such treatment. He didn’t care much, though.
It was dead just like the rest, anyways.
“Right, so we’ll just sit her and wait until she dies or something horrific like that happens. What a great plan! I think you deserve a medal for that.”
Duraan wasn’t so enthused with his sarcastically forward comment.
“And what would you do? Go after her?”
Yes, the truth is hard and it hurts like cold steel.
“I….” Aviin had nothing to say, because he’d been humbled once again.
So he chopped again and again, throwing out each strike with a bout of ne
w anger and new pain, the splinters of wood sapping his strength and forcing him to cry out, falling to his knees, arm still attempting its impossible feat. Eventually he was reduced to nothing more than a man.
Weak and feeble, sitting on the floor like a child.
His thoughts strayed aimlessly, wandering from one thing to the next as the sun slowly crept farther and farther away, leaving him behind to wallow in his pity.
And perhaps I did pity him, if only a little. It was because here, for the first time, he was broken.
Of course, there was the incident in the desert and several others along the way, but this was different.
I couldn’t quite grasp onto it, though.
When the sun had fallen almost to its bed and shadows ran long and rampant over the earth, he finally awoke from his stupor and collected his things, bundling the wood with twine and dragging it back to their meager camp.
It was there, for the first time, that he and Jaerus met.
Oh, he had been studying him plenty, and pounding Duraan with questions about Savill’s family, and her brother that she seemed so protective over.
Just another normal boy, like any other. Except one thing that Duraan had said which frankly had him a bit skeptical; that he was perfect.
When questioned further, Duraan only said that he had no other way to explain it, but that the child was perfect, in practically every way.
“You’ll understand when you meet him.”
And now? He didn’t look all that special, to say the least.
“Here boy, take some of this and get it to the cooking fire. I’m sure they’ll be needing it by now.”
“Yes sir, right away sir.” His thin little arms struggled to lift four or five pieces of the split wood, but he smiled as knobby knees braced under the weight and lifted with all their might.
He certainly was obedient, and well mannered, as a first impression.
Stacking the rest against a wall and covering with a tattered tarp, Aviin watched as a few moments passed, and soon the child returned, skipping lightly and whistling some tune to himself.
“Is there anything else that you’d like me to do?”
In reply Aviin sat on the ground and motioned for the boy to do the same. In silence, they studied one another for a moment, or two, before Aviin spoke up. “You don’t seem unhappy like the rest.”
Confused, by the assumption, Jaerus pulled his nose and his brow together in a thoughtful face. “Should I be?”
It brought a nervous chuckle to Aviin’s lips.
He returned, “When I was about your age, I lost my mother.” He felt like crying, and he didn’t know why, but it pulled itself back. “All I can really remember is that my father tried to tell me that she was making her way home to the halls of the gods, and would be sleeping on clouds and singing with angels before the night was through. But I didn’t believe a single word of it.”
He looked down at the boy, or rather across to him, and then at the ground, fiddling with a bit of wood that he found there before continuing. “I still haven’t come to terms with it. And I don’t know if….”
There was that trail leading back into the dark somewhere.
He started when there was a hand at his arm, a soft touch, hardly noticeable.
Jaerus was now right in front of him, kneeling and leaning towards him with those big eyes of his lit up in the dusk, not like fire, and not like the sun, but like a golden moon, reflecting and refracting the light.
“Your father, he was right.” A childish smile, from a childish boy, but one that knew what he was doing. “She is being watched over by gods and angels. That’s why I’m not sad for you.”
One last pressing at his arm, before he left Aviin there, alone, but not quite as much as he once had been.
Something I didn’t understand.
And neither did he, for as pearls in his eyes swelled and spilled out, cleansing through ash and blood and all that was tainted and dark and cruel in the world, no answers of why or how came to him. Only that it was.
Only that something began to change.
. A Fools Road .
Yes, this was how he liked to travel.
Nothing but the quiet crunching of leaves and gravel beneath their boots.
Did you catch the sarcasm in there?
Aviin kept himself from making any visual or audible motions that would give away his anxiety and frustration, as he understood very well that Duraan’s warning to keep from creating any friction with Savill, was in fact the most sound thing he had said for some time. There was already enough of that to go around, and as she refused to speak about much, it was a simple matter to do the same.
So the four of them walked.
Four, because the tall, thin boy had chosen to come along. Only as far as was deemed safe, mind you, but they greatly appreciated the extra pair of eyes and hands, and if anything too serious happened, they could send word for help.
“Oh yes, I run very fast.” The boy had beamed, smiling from ear to ear to reveal a broken set of teeth.
It wasn’t doubted, what with his clobbers for feet and twigs for legs. If the wind picked up, it’d take him right with it. Hence why he could travel so quickly.
Jaerus was back at the camp, and they were moving on to Kirdish-burough, a much safer city that actually had a wall around it, so Duraan had explained. Savill was against the whole thing, that is, leaving her brother. The moment she came back from the rifts, which hadn’t been as long as they’d thought, she had become even more protective over the boy.
Nothing was said of that episode.
Duraan refused to mention it.
Savill pushed it off whenever it was brought up.
And Aviin was helpless against two masters at this tricky craft.
What am I doing? He found himself saying, laughing at his own plight. He really shouldn’t have even come this far, and now he was delving into deeper caverns as they set out on a fabled journey to recover something that, in his mind, was already lost and beyond repair.
Savill insisted that she had seen them, though, and that they were still alive.
But only for the time being.
It seemed that her…gift, also allowed her the privilege of seeing back into the modern and very mortal realm that they all existed on. Travel and time wasn’t the same, and so a distance that may have taken them hours to cross, she could possibly walk in a only a few moments. Like the world being laid out on the table as a giant map.
At least, that’s what Duraan had said as Aviin pestered him with questions.
Eventually he told him to just stop asking.
That’s why the silence was everyone’s friend that day.
The boy that tagged along? He didn’t have much to say in the matter, and would have felt awkward to intrude on their current regime, so we find him romping through the woods along the path, finding odd things to occupy himself with.
Frankly, Aviin didn’t care anymore, or he would have told the child to be still and quiet. There was a lot at stake on this little excursion that Savill had convinced them to go on, and he wasn’t exactly sure if their desired reward was going to be worth it. Supposing they made it that far.
Or back again.
The beasts had a day’s journey on them already, but at the relentless nagging of Savill’s assurances that they were not as far as they could have gone, Duraan agreed to accompany her.
And where had that left Aviin?
He sighed.
Kicked at a rock on the path.
This was not how he had viewed things at all.
But then, was it how any of them had seen the future? Surely Savill never dreamed a nightmare that could conjure such foul images to play before them?
It was a doubtful, and terrible prospect.
Jaerus?
The other boy?
Any of the townspeople?
Ahh, but fate is not so kind as to bend to your will. We have already been over this once before, and I really
do not like to repeat things.
Finally something was said, but it was only Savill barking another order. “We’ve been resting long enough. We need to move faster, if we’re ever going to catch them.”
The boy groaned, as he knew what was in store. Aviin and Duraan didn’t mind much, they both were used to running long distances and could easily outrun Savill, although an impacting of rage seemed to give her a new strength and resolve to push forward.
Frightening, actually.
. At Odds with the World .
It was to nourishment and growth that his tendrils and roots stretched.
Though not to water.
If there was any liquid that could quench his thirst, I’m sure that he would have already tapped into its source, and drained it clean.
Such is the way of beings that draw upon the strength of others.
How is that one of so much power and strength, wielding the very scepter of the gods and resting upon the high throne, could depend, heavily, upon the lowest of beings?
Would that not instantly deny him the position of being lord and ruler?
Perhaps there are more rules to this game that I was never taught.
But I was winning anyways.
And he would keep on searching, for an untold amount of time. However long it took, to be sure.
The world seemed to crumble before his grasp, sinking in great patches as those vines made desperate and flippant attempts at snatching pieces from the air, only to find that they had long passed.
They were Fallen.
Many still sang his name, but so few actually believed that it would rain blessings upon their heads.
Where were those promised gifts?
I surely never did witness the granting of them. And all like me found themselves in a very difficult and precarious moment, literally hanging in the balance, because Rorith was on one end, and Yvre and Brey and Lydria and all the rest piled on to the other.
Fair?
I think not?
. Preparing to Plunge .
“And what makes you sure that they’re here?”
He’d already asked that one, but it was still in need of some reassurance before he went and risked his life to rescue something that might as well be a few ghosts.
There were three of them standing up on the cliff, using the high vantage point to keep watch. Standing in the open wasn’t exactly the most brilliant way of doing it, but it wasn’t as if they were expecting anyone to follow them.
It would take a small regiment to complete this mission. And how many did they have?
Two, and perhaps a half, as Duraan wouldn’t amount to much fighting with these big brutes. Standing far taller than a man, they had trees for legs and their necks were indiscernible from the rest of their bodies as massive towers of muscle rose up from their backs and crested over the height of their shoulders.
They would be slow, but unbreakable.
Stone, no…more like iron.
It took only one look for Aviin to know, without a doubt, that they could never stand up to an enemy like this.
The rest of the group was camped at the base of the ragged cliffs. How many there were was something he hadn’t been able to ascertain just from looking, though it was probable there would be ten or so more. A group small enough to slip past any safeguards, of which there were few in these northern parts, but they still had managed to sneak through the Arkeriss Pass without being noticed.
Or perhaps they simply killed everyone that would have been there to give the warning?
That’s where the captives would be, if they were still alive, down at the base, hidden from view, most likely.
He still couldn’t fully accept that possibility, even though Savill had assured him multiple times.
“I see life.” Was her response to his questioning of her ability to recognize anything while in the rifts. “And the more pure it is, the brighter it glows. Foul things appear as black shapes, and people like my parents are easy to spot. I wouldn’t have mistaken them.”
Though he’d watched many as they claimed to have been privy to some vision or some unbelievable experience, when in reality they were only delusional. It was this that worried him the most.
Because if she was wrong, then they might find themselves in a desperate situation.
Actually, he laughed, because that was in and of itself a lie.
They were already in chin deep, and ready to take the final plunge. Savill wouldn’t turn back, not at this point.
“It’s going to be difficult to kill even one of these monsters, let alone subdue the entire group of them.” And there was something else nagging at his mind. “But I’m more concerned about the two Orr-Tav that you said were with this group? I haven’t seen them….”
“That’s because they’re not here.” Savill answered, simply, as if it were no big deal.
“Wait, you mean that they left, or went on ahead?”
“No, they went into the rifts. Looking for me.”
And even Duraan was frightened by this prospect.
“Those are not the words that I wanted to hear.” He stated emphatically, forcing out a good deal of energy that seemed to scream against their minds. “What exactly happened?”
Her head danced side to side in an angered fashion. “I led them there, alright. I knew that if I could get them far enough away, and then disappear, it would take them awhile to find their way back.”
“So you’re telling me that not that long ago they were chasing you through the rifts? They knew where you were?”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that.”
The sound of a kettle releasing its final puffing of steam came from his lips and he spun away, hands through his hair again, stomping his feet as he turned a tight circle and came back around. “So they know that we’re here?”
“No, of course not! I’ve shielded my mind and they’re days away in the rifts, by the path that I led them.”
“And if you’re wrong…?” Questioned Duraan, eyeing her harshly.
“Well, then we all die and eat with Draal tonight.”
“Yah, that’s brilliant….”
She wasn’t having any of their sarcastic words this day, so she just up and said what was on her mind. “You can leave. I don’t need either of you here, seeing that you really don’t care.”
The cat was angry, and said nothing.
The man was angry, but was at least human.
“Don’t care? No, Savill…that’s not how it is. I do care, I’m just…scared, is all.”
“Scared of what? Of death? I thought you were a soldier of the Empire? You’ve been through this hundreds of times by now, so it should be no issue.”
“Well, that’s not entirely true….” Yes, Reader, we know how true that really was of him to say.
Perhaps we know too much.
He continued, “I’m not afraid of death, and never have been. It’s the death of others…people that are…close to me, that frightens me so much.”
Eyes turned down, then back up again as Savill realized what those words meant, and their subtle nature allowed them to seep past the sentinels of her spirit and make at the least a small impression there.
It almost made her happy.
Then suppression, because their task at hand was far more important.
“Just, trust in the gods that you serve and don’t do anything stupid.”
Yes, trust in the gods….
“Alright, then what do you propose we do?”
“Nothing stupid, I hope.” Duraan dropped in his comment.
“Yes, very funny. I nearly forgot how to laugh. Now would you pay more attention? This is sort of a serious matter.”
He mumbled about something, but agreed with a little flip of his tail.
“So what’s our plan?” Aviin inquired again.
Savill turned back to him after sticking her tongue out at the cat. “Actually, I was hoping that you would have some idea of how we should do thi
s?”
Was she asking him for advice? The moment was fleeting, because the sun was the same and he realized that if it was going to happen, it had to be soon.
“Yes, I suppose I do.” He still wanted to urge against this, but there really was no way of convincing Savill otherwise. Was he prepared to make that ultimate sacrifice with them?
To be honest with himself, he had to admit that it really didn’t matter.
“I saw a group of your people at the base of the cliff. They have them pushed into a short cavern, guarded by the rest. I don’t really know how to get to them, yet, but,” he pointed to the three standing on the top of the cliff, “we can possibly deal with them. We’ll have to separate them, though, because taking on three at a time would just get us killed.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Duraan asked smartly.
“We won’t,” Aviin smiled, a bit devilishly, “but you will.”
“Yes, and I suppose you think yourself really funny right now.”
“No, I actually mean it. You’re faster than we both are, which means you won’t have to be afraid of being caught. I figure that if you get close enough, at least one of these brutes will chase after you. We lead it into a more secluded location, where they won’t be so easily heard-.”
“And then it’s goodnight for the children.”
“And what happens if more than one of them follows me for a skip into the woods? What then?”
“Then we take out the one that stayed.”
“And if all three?”
His questions were valid, but a but annoying, so Aviin answered them, and threw a little sarcasm in for himself. “Well, that would be a real problem, but, I guess it’s a sacrifice that you’ll have to be willing to make.”
Silence, for a few moments while they processed his words, then Savill laughed.
Duraan was not amused.
“Is this the time for stupid jokes? We’re running out of daylight.”
“Right…if we have that problem, which I don’t think we will, then it might be all for the better, as it means that they no longer have any sentries. Though I doubt that they would be that stupid as to leave no security behind.”
“Okay, so let’s hope it does happen. I’ll just have to play a little game of Brigget with them.”
Reference to the well known child’s game of tag, where the loser has to remove their shoes until they tag another, brought some more laughs to the group. Aviin smiled, inside and out, because this was shaping up to be better than he had thought. A jovial nature brings with it the ability to subvert fear and anxiety.
It could also counter as a distraction, so he brought things back in.
“But here’s what I don’t know, and we have no way of telling how to do this; free your parents and the rest. I saw at least five other Kurutiell at the base, which means there are most likely two or three others. I’m sure that we could use the same tactics on them, but I don’t know if they’d attempt at using their hostages as a means of leverage or not.”
“I doubt it,” Duraan explained, “they’re not stupid, but they don’t have that sort of thinking pattern. And besides, whatever has ordered them to capture these people, apparently wants them alive, otherwise we’d have seen dead bodies by now. They have this way of making a…sport, out of everything.”
“Okay, so we shouldn’t need to worry about the others. Our real challenge is that they’re going to be hard to kill.”
“We can just pick them off with our bows.”
Savill’s suggestions seemed to make sense, but Duraan shot it down in an instant.
“No, that would never work. If you shot them in the body, they’d stay alive for a long time and we’d have a mess on our hands. And if you try for the head, well…let’s just say they have the skull of a Targ in there.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?” She countered, contemptuously.
“I’m not sure.”
A very comforting answer to be given.
Aviin looked at Savill.
She looked at Duraan, eyes blazing.
And the cat looked at his paw, maliciously eyeing a small bug that had begun to scale his mass of fur.
A very interesting combination of spirits we had here, isn’t it?
And for the life of me, I simply couldn’t see what might ever go wrong with this?
. What it Smells Like to Rain Life .
Three….
Strange, that we have arrived at this number once again.
It was the number of things that happened to come tumbling down the cliff at that moment, much to the surprise of Eorria and Venistarre and the others. Even their captors, the brutes, were stunned by this odd and very random occurrence.
First it was something large that mutilated itself beneath its own weight.
One of their own.
Secondly, a smaller form, with grey and spackled fur.
It let out a terrible howling shriek, right before impacting the earth.
And the last was a girl, at least, that’s what it appeared to be, though most would have described it as something entirely different altogether.
Skin bursting light from every pore.
The earth seemed to bend beneath her weight as it rumbled the ground, spraying rocks and dirt in a wide arching circle. She was unharmed, though, and dashed to the fallen animal’s side.
There was something else, as well, but before they could respond to the fact that bright flames danced around the crown of her head, the beasts next to them quickly and rudely shoved them all to the back of the alcove. There, in the darkest corner, sat their captor. A silent and motionless figure.
It’s mouth moved of a sudden, clicking teeth together in an obnoxious manner. Instanly, the beasts responded, dragging a heavy chest from the black.
One inserted a long, three pronged key.
Twisted.
Released.
And opened.
Within moments, the prison gates were opened as all Dromarg’s mutant minions spilled out, flowing past them, shrouding out the sun and the light and everything else.
The apocalypse, in true form.
. The Running .
“Don’t run back this way!” Aviin screamed at the cat. The stupid animal was turning back towards them, for whatever reason, and leading the three beasts straight to their prey.
Aviin might be able to outrun them, but Savill would have no chance, what with her shorter legs and lack of training in this sort of thing.
She was used to dealing with men.
But then, so was he, of a sort.
“I’m trying! Shut up and kill them already!”
“You have to split them up, otherwise we can’t do a thing to help.”
He mumbled, in heightened tones.
Savill was stationed at the other end of the rise, waiting her turn to fall upon their target. Unfortunately, though, things had turned sour almost instantly. The dumb animals were apparently even less smart than they had anticipated, and now all three were wildly crashing through the underbrush in rabid pursuit of this newfound game.
Duraan was taunting them with his thoughts, prodding their carnal instincts and raising their drive for blood.
A good tactic, if they weren’t so frightening.
Turning back up the hill, Duraan clawed at the rocky slope, scaling at a much greater speed than his pursuers which could only stumble and scramble as best their fat hands and feet could carry them.
“I got you!” Came Savill’s triumphant rant as she rose up, knocking an arrow and letting it fly. Had it punctured through the eye of the beast, they may have seen some victory, but it clashed with the thickset bone of its jaw, glancing from the edge and piercing straight down past its collarbone.
“Savill!” Duraan’s yell hit with force, the rage of one not so far from death hitting hard as he peered past his bouncing shoulder to see her action’s consequence. “What are you doing! You just made the thing angry!”
“They’r
e already angry, alright! Just look at it.”
“Sort of running for my life here, thank you.”
Aviin jumped in and severed their argument. “Just shut up and head towards those larger rocks! I have an idea.”
“It better be good.”
Racing from plan to plan, he agreed with himself that this would most likely be their highest chance of success. Savill’s little stunt had served to bring out the true and ultimately vile nature of these beasts, and they were now quickly gaining ground as Duraan’s swift, but short legs tore at the ground beneath him.
Something had to be done, and rather quickly.
“And now what do you want me to do?” The cat asked, fear showing in his emotions as he stalled for a moment or two on the top of a massive boulder.
“Run down, straight down.”
“How am I supposed to do that! These rocks are liable to fall over and start a landslide any moment!”
A second, to process.
It was their only chance.
“Just do it!”
Duraan leapt, stone to stone, doing his best to keep away from the precarious ones that teetered at the edge of the scale, only waiting for something, or someone to come along and do as little as poke a finger to it.
But what was following him did a little more than that.
First, it was only a few pebbles that were shaken loose.
Ten or so steps later, and Duraan’s shaggy head flipped to see a great wall of chipped stone falling at him, gaining ground and sending bits and chunks flying in all directions. Even Aviin was worried of being hit by the debris as it sprayed for a great distance.
One of them fell, tripping into a short hole. Ripped at the rock, it managed to dislodge itself, clambering over another flat one, only to be mauled in a matter of moments by the descending adversary.
Little hope of survival remained for it.
Bones would grind to powder beneath such a terror.
If Duraan had not been truly afraid before, he would be terrified now. It was all he could do to get away, and beast and nature were almost upon him. The earth growled deep from its chest, opening those terrible jaws wide to consume its next meal.
All three dove at nearly the same moment, one of the monsters launching itself a great distance and skidding through a small thicket of short trees, a move which saved its life. The stones, only the little ones, could make it past the natural netting that now protected it.
The third and last wasn’t quite so lucky, tumbling to the side and being narrowly missed by a large chunk of earth, but its leg crushed beneath another. The thing was hidden from Aviin’s view at that point, but Duraan, the sleek cat, sailed through the air, almost as if he had wings.
But it wasn’t enough.
Landing meant temporary victory that was as fleeting as was the chance for escape. It was then that the piling rocks made a perfect play, and landed squarely on his tail, pinning him to the spot and refusing to relinquish their grip.
“Duraan. Get out of there!” Savill screamed, pounding the earth with all the might her feet could muster, but still a good distance off.
“I can’t! I’m stuck!”
The other beast wasn’t, and though it had barely missed a meeting with Sister Death, it was undeterred from its previous course nonetheless. Things like that don’t frighten that which is already doomed to die a meaningless death, anyways.
Locking eyes and nostrils to its next meal, it quickly closed the gap.
Now very much afraid for his friend’s safety, Aviin made the only move he could think to do, and much to the frustration of Savill, drew an arrow, letting it pierce through the back of the monster’s leg. Right above the knee. It made a clean line through, emerging fully from the otherside.
A stumble.
Then to all four.
He smiled, as if he had won.
Then, wasting not even a second of time, it continued in that downward position, eating turf and grass alike, barreling for the final stretch.
Aviin released another arrow before Duraan was met by fate, an arrow that bounced almost harmlessly off of a rock, just to the left.
He couldn’t see clearly what was happening, but it appeared that the over zealous appetite had driven it too fast and too far. Sliding past as Duraan made a dart to the side, still trapped, but able to move out of harm’s way.
It spun back around, lunging, crashing into the sun-tanned rock.
Lifting it slightly.
The second beast had, apparently, survived the landslide and swiped at the air as it arrived on the scene, missing the cat as he slipped through the cracks of their two bodies-tail grating loose-which now collided into one another and sent them toppling.
One came away with a tuft of Duraan’s hair in its hand, the cat ruing the day that the gods had given him a tail at all for the second time.
“Duraan! Run!”
He was trying, but another injury to a front paw shot painful blasts up his leg, dulling his speed and dragging at his instincts. To run was his only chance at survival, that he knew.
One beast closed the gap in a matter of seconds, leaping into the air, crashing just to the left, knocking Duraan back off his feet.
Aviin lined up a shot, brushing sweat from his eyes.
“Shoot it!” Savill screamed.
The beast had Duraan by the head, but literally turning in his skin, he twisted out of the grip, reeling over its shoulder and dropping to the floor, darting underneath a heavy foot. Biting at its hand.
“Aviin! Shoot it now!
“No, I’ll hit Duraan!”
A sinister hold on his back leg, pulled from chance at retreat. Despite his constant and furious lashing of claws, Duraan couldn’t break loose.
“Just shoot it now!”
He couldn’t hold on any longer.
Pointed shaft whistled a sweet tune, wiggling back and forth as it took its first, and final flight.
Destination?
The head spat out from the beast’s lower chest as it spun it’s back to Aviin and Savill. The force of the blow nearly knocked it over, and in pain and shock, it rolled with the effort, arms flailing to stay balanced.
Remember what was in them?
Aviin ran, as fast as his legs would permit. The second beast was reaching for their friend, its maimed leg dragging behind it in a nearly lifeless manner.
He could see a flashing of fur as the cat was hurled through the blue sky, claws raking at the ground and the clouds in vain.
The ball of Aviin’s foot found itself colliding hard and cracking into the beast’s chest. Caught unaware by this fling of acrobatics, something that Aviin himself didn’t remember planning to do, it had little choice but to submit to gravity.
A stumble.
And right next to Duraan, there at the cliff’s edge, it made another little tumble through the air.
Had she screamed his name? Or was it just his own voice, transformed in plight? He collapsed, gripping at his ankle which had exploded in pain.
There was that same rushing of the summer’s wind, and he remembers hearing himself utter a single, solitary word….
“Stop.”
So ignorant, and childish. Not even a yell. How could that have helped anything?
It was in reaction to the madness that had come over Savill.
He watched, in disbelief.
She slipped past him with that rushing of the wind again, feet hardly making a sound.
She leapt from the edge.
Reader, you know the rest.
. Exposure to the Element of Truth .
You live such a filthy life.
So much blood.
And is that what you’ve come here for, to talk with me, about things like fame and fortune, to tell me how much you have accomplished in your life?
Shall we count the lives?
Or just the faces, the ones that have been silenced at your hand?
I do so enjoy replaying these scenes again and again,
because it thrills me to watch the buzzards devour their own. The weak, the less privileged. It’s just something that they can’t resist, and I can’t stop myself from reveling in it, because it’s such a beautiful symbiosis. Just like plague and host.
Just like it.
But Reader, oh my dear Reader, have we come so far as to leave behind all that we’ve learned and gained? Should there not be more?
So why have you come?
If you’re going to survive in this world, the one that you’ve allowed yourself into, then you best begin to learn these fun facts, the ones that really matter.
Gold melts.
Iron rusts.
Stone will crumble.
Flesh rots.
And even bone grinds to dust.
A world of peace, the one that your kind seems so bent on finding, lies only within those words, and nowhere else can it be found.
Did you search them long enough?
. The Falling .
Brathak tain….
What did it mean anymore?
Certainly Aviin couldn’t find a place for it out there, where the sun glared through the bitter cloud of dust, and his world seemed to spin and shift in a pattern-less motion.
Getting down the hill was the easy part.
His next moments were like this; he stumbled from side to side, like a drunken man, but this was no liquid libation that had taken control. I doubt that even the gods drank wine as strong as this.
Savill was there, along with Duraan.
But it was not the ones that he recognized.
The cat? Needless to say, he was only seconds away from meeting her, because She was coming. His appearance screamed out to her, begging to be brought home.
I would describe it to you, but perhaps there is enough blood staining into these pages for the time being?
And the girl’s appearance too was different.
Surging’s of power raced around her, growing more intense with each passing pulse, forcing him back. He had to shield his eyes again, and through the blasting of light, he could see a writhing of blackness, of shapes, of creatures that pierced through the layers, stabbing in, then being shoved back. One slipped through a crack, diving at Savill’s form, only to be incinerated in an instant.
Tens evolved into hundreds, building up around her like a great dome of vile and putrescence.
She was lost from view, if only for a moment, then the shape of her came through the black and transparent haze.
It was not her, though, because he could see very clearly that, where once fire and flame had danced behind those sculpted eyes, there was only now a deep void. It swallowed everything around it, transforming beauty into its purest form as her skin was morphing into shadow.
It was taking over her.
It was wielding her.
The beasts crashing in from all sides, threatening in gashing tones of terror and malice, spurred on by the light, because it was the only thing they couldn’t stand to bear. At one point, they almost broke the shield of her own making, forcing it to its lowest point, nearly to collapse inward and ring that bell that so often sounds when another soul is spent.
But like the splitting of the stars, there was only a tremendous bursting of that bubble, shaking the world to its very foundations.
Rending shade.
They were all consumed in the explosions wake, and Aviin too was not immune, even at his distance.
He awoke sometime later, head ringing and singing in terrible tones that didn’t harmonize very well. On all fours, crawling towards them. The shadows spun and danced around, chased by spirits of light and deadened upon losing the game of tag.
Yes, Duraan was there.
He looked not so well.
Savill?
To his left lay the forms of several of the beasts, ripped apart by the shockwave. Behind them were several Adonai, sprawled out, not moving.
His hands trembled along with his body and his spirit.
Bile tasted sweet at his lips, compared to the waking into this scene, something which he was being forced to swallow down whole.
She was the only thing of beauty left in that world, the only thing that wasn’t bleeding.
But it made little difference; they bled red, and she wore it like a crown.
The queen of all that had been destroyed.
. The Ascension .
She came, but for a moment, I almost did not see.
In that quiet hour when all had faded into a nothingness that is so thrilling, and I watched the girl become transformed by that plaguing disease, I nearly lost myself.
She was beautiful in rare figure, I had always seen that, but in that instant, I found my heart turning to this human, because hers was a new and intriguing form.
Yes, I almost fell for it again.
But dear Reader, do not be concerned.
Death came again, as she always did, and saved me from making a dire mistake.
You see, as beautiful as that red had become, I will always love black
Epilogue:
Do not think me a fool for bringing you down such a long road, only to abandon you here, at the end of all things.
It is not the end, after all.
And this story has not been told.
Not yet.
It will continue on, if but for the lack of time to put it to paper, but rest assured, you will find some closure in the near future, if you wish.
Truth be told, I did not write this tale. I am not your host, of which you should know a great deal now. He is the true teller of this tale, the one who’s name really should have been printed on the front, but what name could I write? Tell me, has he given you one yet?
No, a ghost can no more write a saga of life than a fish can walk in the sun, and so it is that I was gifted to stumble over this last will and testament to a dying soul, one who’s voice had not been heard, perhaps not like it deserved. And that is why I write, why I plague these whitened sheets with ink and blood, because there are so many songs left unsung, and so many hearts left untouched.
Reader, do not stop, because I won’t.
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