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It had been two months. Two long, hard, almost fatal months that Zakerin had spent in the Canyon. The Carnivores left him be- after a month of running, he'd killed one after noticing that they couldnt look up. Their blood had somehow been absorbed by his uniform- which was extremely dusty at the moment- and had driven away the most of the others that had drawn close to him. He no longer even thought about his magic, it was something foreign to this world of kill or be killed that made up the inner Canyon. Dragons had led him through their flights to an area that seemed to be their source- a place he'd been searching for due to the need for actual sleep. They were never approached by anything more dangerous than a Drakan, which meant he could sleep near their caves with relative ease due to their presence.
Though he was, in fact, getting ahead of himself. This could be a gateway for the dragons, and not their resting place- it could be a graveyard up there for all he knew. Still, he had to climb up- fighting to do so thanks to the weight of his clothing. He'd discovered grappling claws in the boots and gloves- non magic, but useful- while running from the beasts, and had even spent an entire night hanging from a wall in desperation. He was by no means graceful in anything, climbing or fighting, but he knew he'd be able to at least reach the top by dawn the next day.... with luck.
Readying the claws, he began to climb. The wall was worn smooth, either by the dragons, wind, or some ancient river that had long ago dried up, and this made his attempts almost impossile, though he powered through. Time marched on, and it grew to be noon. A lack of food or water left him parched and with cramps, though this was nothing new to him.
A roar, the falling of water. The sounds of restful peace....
The memory of noises that should be up there danced through his head, stunning him slightly. Was he going mad? Through the visions he continued to climb.
An egg, hatching into a small lizard that fit into the palm of his hand. A girl of sixteen, dark hair dancing in a wind that smelled of vanilla. A pair of dragons the size of horses nuzzling his side.
The edge was getting closer. Was this a spell? A protection caused by the dragons? Something else entirely? The visions hit him like the blows of a whip, as each was punctured with a different emotion- wonder, joy, love, happiness.....
The smell of burning flesh, a bloody hand reaching for him. A pile of corpses under a winged figure. A scream that carried centuries of pain. A darkness that swallowed everything
The visions were becoming darker, and somehow sharper. The feelings within them grew less in warmth. He'd reached the edge...
The girl again, no, this was different. She wore a tiara of black metal, a silver opal as the main gem. Behind her stood a figure in a mask of black, tears shining behind the holes for the eyes. A blade, stained crimson with blood. The feeling of loss, of guilt. The sound of cruel laughter...
The visions were physically painful now, he felt the knife in his chest, the phantom blood rushing hotly over his skin. It burned, and he barely pulled himself on to the ledge. Blindly he curled into a ball.
The winged figure once more, no more of them. A circle of six. He lashed out, one fell, but he was slowly overpowered- stabbed again by the crowned woman. He felt it, the burning cold of an unstoppable hatred- pinned to the ground by an unmoving blade. A ball of some sort was tossed next to his head. The smell of iron, the smell of blood reached him as he realized it was no ball, but a head. The girl from the earlier vision, mangled and torn. The hatred grew, and the Darkness fed on the hate, and the hatred fed on the Darkness, both growing endlessly, threatening everything.
He screamed, he cried. The pain was like a fire so hot it was cold, ice so cold it burned. Everything was pain, his body one writhing mass. He wanted to die, the pain, he couldnt take it. It was driving him insane. Unable to move, such hate, such anger. He wanted the world to end. He wanted everything to end, just to stop the pain. He'd give anything, everything for it to end. His body shut down, first is ears no longer heard him scream, he could no longer smell the blood, the taste of fire numbed and his eyes grew dark, and then the pain disappeared into the depths of unconsciousness.
 Azzy Rael · Fri May 07, 2010 @ 01:11am · 0 Comments |
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