Prologue: The Dead Monster and the Nightmare
River of Death, The Eighth Precinct
Slow, blazing patches of fire drifted across the endless river. The shimmering flames flared and flickered irregularly. The water was still, flowing swiftly and surely, uninterrupted, without source and without end.
Suddenly, ripples interrupted the stillness. Something rose out of the river. Bursts of flame from the oily flares illuminated a tall, formless shape. It held itself with bearing, somehow able to wade against the deceptively shifting pressure created by the river. The shadow, for that was what it was, walked back through the fiery arch of the seventh gate, down the waterfall of the sixth, past gate, after gate. Until it finally reached the shallow eddies of the first precinct. Its shuffling gait quickening, the free magic thing sighed as he felt the warmth of life on its misshapen, decayed visage.
Then, before it could emerge into life, the dead thing... stopped, held its stance and it slowly turned. With its glowing eyes of flame, the creature examined the curious black shape, trotting across the river of death.
“So it was you who summoned me from beyond the seventh gate. Your form surprises me,” said the free magic thing.
The nightmare snorted, its dark form wearing an even darker smile.
“We shall agree to be surprised.” The dead thing, sidled up to the nightmare, a leering smile on its face.
“Foolish being, we shall have your body, strange as it is!” Rotting flesh, encircled the four legged creature, overwhelming her briefly with its cloying stench, but before the dead thing could encircle the nightmare, it stopped. Bright sparks flared around the nightmare, burning chunks and flaps of the dead thing’s skin off.
“What is this sorcery?” growled the monster, more out of curiosity than anger. The nightmare grinned, her turquoise eyes and ivory fangs, glowing in death. Her wings flared imperiously, pushing the festering folds back in a flurry of sparks. The Greater Dead stepped back and regarded the Nightmare as she spoke.
“I may be inclined to teach you Caedes. So do we have an accord?”
Okay let's get this party started!
"The water was still, flowing swiftly and surely"
Eek contradiction. Still but moving? I realize it's physics defying death water but my mind can't even picture that!
"flames flared and flickered"
Whee alliteration! points and mustaches!
Okay here's a big one, reread the books my friend, the dead have no form beyond the wellspring of life. That means no flesh to be burned off. Even Terciel and Lirael etc are never expressly stated as being fleshy but I assumed they were oh well... But a great dead spirit would almost certainly just be a spirit. There's nothing in death after all, to give life to an unliving form... Life that the dead require to maintain a host body of flesh and blood.
Not bad though, it all flowed nicely.