Battle
Marcus was deeply grateful for the cloak once the sun had started to set. What had once been a blistering summer day was now a rapidly cooling dusk. He walked silently through the plains of the wild lands, already nearly to the jungle. Looking up, Marcus saw the burning orange sun that was currently painting the sky various hues of red and yellow.
The gods had really put out for a beautiful sunset tonight. A full moon had started rising, giving off a silver light in contrast with the sun, the sky split in two by the twin celestial powers. On one side, a menagerie of colors mixed together, the other, silvery pinpricks of light that told our stories. The battle of the heavens slowly turned to the favor of the night as darkness finally fell, a great belt of swirling light appearing in the sky as the sun faded and Marcus was cast in utter darkness.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light, after minutes settling on casting a muted silver hue over everything he saw. The plains were no longer golden, only grey, and the jungle ahead was a dull, dark green, making it look even more ominous. Marcus marched on to his mission, imagining the future for Laina and himself.
The jungle was even darker than Marcus could have thought possible. The thick upper canopy blocked nearly all light except for the small strands of moonlight that wavered in the dusty, pollen infused air. Dense underbrush created a veritable wall of foliage that Marcus had to use the incredibly sharp knife to cut through.
Whisking the knife through the underbrush like a baker would batter, Marcus cut a small tunnel that he had to duck under to make it through. He littered the ground underfoot with freshly cut clippings. Thorns pulled at his cloak and pricked his skin, covering him in itchy scratches that occasionally bled.
He swung the knife again, clearing more brush out of the way and revealing a clearing. It was large, and further past it, Marcus couldn’t see any more underbrush, just large trees. The clearing was sunken into the ground, a small grotto at the bottom echoing with the tinkling bells of laughter. The whole area was illuminated by an eerie blue glow emanating from the grotto hole.
What? Marcus carefully scaled down the grotto wall in the low light of the blue glow until he found a sturdy ledge with a large bush growing on it. He swung his legs over the side of the ledge and peered down at the bottom. There were a dozen girls frolicking in the water, some were green or brown skinned, but the majority were blue skinned. The earth toned girls were clad in tight fitting fresh leaves that did not leaf a lot to be desired, while the water colored girls were covered in opaque water togas. The pool of water seemed to be the cause of the glow, shining magically as the girls played.
They ran around in the knee deep water, splashing each other, their peals of laughter ringing out of the grotto. Marcus heard a throaty chuckle escape from the bush next to him as he watched the girls. He brought his legs up from over the ledge and carefully inched over to the bush. Silently pulling apart the branches to see inside, another chuckle floating out. He saw a satyr crouched in the bush, staring intently at the girls.
Marcus smiled devilishly and leaned in as close as he could without making any sound. “Hello,” he spoke, the satyr letting out a short bark of surprise and falling forward into the bush, breaking a lot of branches loudly.
The sounds of the girls playing stopped, instead replaced by questioning dialogue. The satyr turned his head slowly, his face twisted in a snarl and eyes burning with fire. He brought up a finger and pointed it at Marcus then quickly brought it to his lips with a shush. The girls stopped talking and one by one went back to playing, their laughter once again filling the grotto. The satyr untensed and slumped.
“Whew,” he said, letting out a sigh, “that was close.”
“Why are you spying on those girls?” Marcus asked, amused by the man-goat hybrid.
“Girls?” The satyr said, genuinely taken aback. “Those are no girls,” he chuckled. “Those are dryads and naiads. The most beautiful creatures in existence.”
The satyr crawled out of the bush and onto the ledge with Marcus. He finally got a good look at the goatman. The satyr had chestnut fur on his lower half that had backwards facing ankles and black cloven hooves. His torso was bare but tan, some black chest hair springing up around the middle of his chest and flowing into his goat lower part.
He looked shorter than Marcus and definitely less muscular but very lean. He had a teardrop shaped face adorned with bushy black eyebrows and a little soul patch. His hair was a tousled mop of black with maybe a stick or two poking out randomly. Two little goat horns poked out of his hair and curled slightly back, making them look like little crescent moons.
“I’ll forgive your ignorance, for now,” the satyr glared briefly. “Anyways, my name is Aiga, and I am a satyr, as you can tell.”
“I’m Marcus,” he held out his hand for a shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Aiga grasped his hand firmly and did a quick shake up and down.
“So why are you spying on these dryads and naiads anyways?” Marcus asked.
Aiga looked off in the distance and let out a blissful sigh. “It has been my life’s dream to be with one of those goddesses just once. Or more than once if you catch my drift,” he waggled his eyebrows while elbowing Marcus’ arm.
“My turn. So,” He looked Marcus up and down, “what’s a human doing out here?”
“I have have complete an ancient ceremony that hasn’t been invoked for centuries. The father of the woman I love is making me do it to prove my worth,” Marcus replied solemnly.
“Ah, the old, Complete my quest to marry my daughter, schtick. So what’s he making you do? Chop down a sacred tree? Capture a chimera?” Aiga rolled a little with laughter at his own imaginations.
“Kill a feral dragon,” Marcus said bluntly, shrugging.
“A what?” Aiga’s eyes bugged a little out of his head as he hissed the last word. Unfortunately, Aiga said it a little too loud as his voice echoed about the walls. The nymphs stopped again, their sweet voices lilting up to the two males.
“Who’s there?” One asked, fear staining her voice.
“Show yourself,” another called out.
Aiga shut his eyes and hissed an expletive. He balled a fist and slammed it on his knees.
“We know you’re there,” the first one said.
Aiga sucked in a deep breath then let it out, steeling himself. He leaned over the ledge and slapped a huge, friendly smile on his face.
“Ladies!” His voice coming out smooth. “Please don’t be alarmed, I was just drawn here by your beauty!”
One of the nymphs screamed, it was a naiad who dived into the water molding seamlessly into the liquid. With the departure of the first, the rest scattered. The rest of the naiads jumped into the water, same as the first, while the dryads leaped out of the grotto and into the trees surrounding the clearing, disappearing into the bark seamlessly.
Aiga slumped in defeat. “I can never even get close to them without them screaming and running away.”
Marcus lightly squeezed his shoulder and patted it, muttering a small “there, there” every couple of seconds. The water’s glow slowly started to fade away to barely a glimmer, leaving the two of them in the light of the moon. Aiga repeatedly bashed a fist into his forehead while muttering, “stupid stupid stupid,” punctuating each word with a strike. Marcus sat in silence continuing to comfort the satyr. Aiga took a deep breath and stopped bashing his own head in, still letting his shoulder to be patted. After a minute he shook his shoulders stopping Marcus while holding his palms vertically flat in the air.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said, straightening out his back and turning back to Marcus. “Now that that’s over, why does this guy want you to kill a dragon?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a way for him to excuse it as a matter of ‘unworthiness’ if I don’t come back.”
“Well, yeah. It’s clearly a suicide quest!” Aiga said, pushing his point by trying to stare some sense into the human. “There is no reason to risk your life so stupidly.”
“My reason is for love,” Marcus replied, his tone becoming defensive.
Aiga grabbed Marcus by his chin and started turning his head side to side. “Man, Cupid really got you good.”
“Feh,” Marcus pushed the goatman off of him.
“Well if you’re really dead set, and I do mean dead, you’re going to die, on finding a dragon to kill then follow me,” Aiga said exasperatedly as he dug around in the bush. He pulled out an object but in the low light Marcus couldn’t tell what it was.The satyr climbed down the rest of the way to the grotto, waiting at the waters edge. Marcus’ eyebrows knitted together in confusion but did as he was told.
The water still had the low glow, not nearly as luminescent as before but still there. Marcus looked into the pool, the gentle waves mesmerizing him the longer he looked. The water was clear, clearer than anything Marcus had ever seen. He couldn’t see any particles in the water, no bugs, nothing. If he looked directly down, it would look like there was only a thin film of water on the rocky bottom instead of a knee deep pool.
Marcus looked at Aiga, who had pulled out what he had grabbed from his peeping bush. He was holding a large wooden canteen with a cork stuck in the top. Aiga uncorked the canteen and tentatively dipped the opening in the water, making sure that he didn’t touch the pool. Marcus watched as water flowed into the canteen. It was hard to make out the actual liquid, he could only tell because the neck of the canteen warped a little as it filled.
Once the canteen was completely full, Aiga recorked it, making sure that none could leak out with a heavy smack on the cork. He tested the seal by flipping it upside-down. With a smile, Aiga handed Marcus the canteen.
Marcus accepted the canteen with a chuckle. “Uh, thanks, but I’m not thirsty.”
“It’s not just water, you idiot,” Aiga said playfully. “This is sacred water, blessed by nymphs and the Gods themselves. It can do so much more than mere water. I’ve seen it heal wounds, and provide minor foresight into the future. I’ve also heard of someone living on only it for two weeks without feeling hungry.”
“Wow, and you’re trusting me with this why?” Marcus said, not completely believing the thin satyr before him.
“Because I don’t think that you should die because some fool’s errand,” Aiga prodded Marcus’ chest with a finger. “That and because you seem like the kind of human who won’t abuse it. One word of advice, try not to touch it with your hands, if you do it could spoil the whole canteen and turn poisonous.”
“Why only my hands?” Marcus asked while slinging the canteen over his shoulder.
“Human hands are dirty and impure, if they touch something so pure, so perfect, such as this water, they taint it and turns all of it’s benefits upside down.”
“Okay, so don’t touch the sacred purity water with my hands. Got it,” Marcus patted the canteen and turned towards the rock wall. Aiga grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face back to him.
“Now I have another bit of information for you. I have heard that a dragon has been rampaging in the northern part of the forest. You’ll know that you’re there when you find charred trees, burned corpses, and flaming grass,” Aiga’s eyes bored intensely into Marcus’, his fingers squeezing tightly into the humans flesh.
Aiga let go of Marcus’ shoulder as his own arm dropped to his side. The satyr’s face stayed as still as a stone as he watched Marcus nod and scale the sunken walls. Aiga watched as the human disappeared and shook his head.
“Dead man walking,” he muttered as he turned around looking for where those pesky nymphs went.
Marcus looked up at the night sky, the thousands of white pinpricks covering it’s canvas. He found the brightest star in the sky as it twinkled in the shape of a curved edge kite, it’s light overpowering all of the other stars near it. He followed it through the jungle, which wasn’t nearly as bad thanks to the absence of brambles and underbrush. The large trees often obscured his sight of the star but every so often a patch in the leaves would show him the way.
His stomach growled and pulled at his focus. It was then that Marcus realized that he hadn’t eaten since the night before with the lamb stew. He reached into a small pouch and pulled out a small piece of jerky and popped it in his mouth. His stomach ceased rumbling, leaving Marcus able to concentrate on the task at hand.
The scent of something burning wafted into his nose and he saw the smoke a second later. There was a long trail of burnt trees and underbrush headed off to into the east. In the distance he saw a faint light flickering, growing brighter and larger every so often then shrinking back down. He unsheathed his knife with a small ring and held it in a reverse grip away from his body. He looked at his knife and saw its short, serrated blade, only as long as three quarters of his forearm. If he was close enough to hit the dragon with this he was close enough to get ripped to shreds. In the corner of his eye, he saw a tall, thick sapling half a foot taller than him. Perfect, he thought.
Marcus walked over to the sapling and held his hand out in front of him towards the baby tree, palm facing it. He closed his eyes and focused on the tree, holding the image of a tall staff with a fist-sized gnarled end at the top, like a club. He opened his eyes and saw his outstretched hand glowing in his green aura while the sapling was slowly being turned into what he wanted by a glowing dark green circlet rising from its bottom. As the aura rose the sapling turned into the staff, the only break was the aura making it seem like two separate entities, the top one being slowly eaten by the bottom.
When the circlet reached the top of the staff it hovered above it for a moment, the staff cast in its green glow. The circlet popped sharply, leaving Marcus’ ears ringing. The aura from the circlet cascading down the staff. Like a sheet, it billowed in a nonexistent wind. The aura sheet suddenly constricted the staff, coalescing into flowing curves and lines. The lines glowed brightly for a moment, making Marcus shield his eyes with his free hand. Marcus lowered his arm once the staff stopped glowing. He walked up right next to the staff, which was still, funnily enough, planted in the ground. Marcus yanked the staff out of the earth, releasing a dirty puff of air and leaving a small divot in the ground.
He could feel the power radiating from the staff as soon as he touched it. It was smooth but not enough that it would slip out of his hands. It almost felt like it was sticking magically to his palm.
“Well,” he said, “that’s new.”
Marcus hefted the staff testing its weight. Expecting it to be much heavier, he almost tossed it into the air. The staff actually turned out to be pretty light, and when he bent it, testing its flexibility, it gave a little. Rapping his knuckles against the shaft revealed the wood to be fairly dense and sturdy. Marcus smiled at his new possession.
“But I like it,” His smile nearly reaching his ears.
The sun had finally started to rise by the time Marcus found more fresh destruction. Smoldering mounds of organic material was scattered all around the charred black scar that tore apart the greenery. An animalistic roar cut through the air, sending a chill down his spine and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Marcus gripped his staff and knife a little tighter, his knuckles white against the wood.
A small gout of flame appeared in the distance originating at a small blue speck. Marcus stopped, narrowed his eyes and shielded them from the morning light with an outstretched hand. The speck resolved slightly, forming into the shape of a tall, sinuous, royal blue dragon that was currently spewing fire at some unseen thing.
Marcus ran from tree to tree making sure that the majority of his body couldn’t be seen from the dragon’s position. It wasn’t moving much, just rampaging and destroying the jungle’s trees and creatures.
The jungle floor slowly curved down into a riverbed that was springing out of a rocky cliff that hung over it. Marcus slowly walked up a small trail that led to the top of the cliff while the dragon went down to the cliff spring, oblivious to the human creeping above him. At the top, Marcus peeked over the cliff to study the dragon briefly.
It was tall and thin, but with thick, ropy muscles that rippled under its scales. The leathery wings that were draped across its back like a cloak were folded up, a much darker shade of blue than its scales.There were two curling horns coming out of the crown of it’s head, making it look devilish. It had a long snout, the teeth of It’s top jaw poking over It’s lower jaw. It huffed occasionally, sending out little tongues of blue-tinted flames from it’s nostrils. It’s limbs were well proportioned with the rest of it’s tall body, nothing seeming too long or out of place.
Marcus could see the razor sharp claws that could rip him to shreds with one swipe scratch a little bit of rock off of the cliff face. The dragon swung at the cliff, ripping out a head sized chunk of rock and pulled out a handful of glittering gems. There were sapphires, rubies, diamonds, and topaz’s clutched in his claw. The dragon popped them all into its mouth in one go and crunched them contentedly, humming its happiness.
The dragon bent down to drink from the fresh water spouting from the cliff, slurping it as it came out. Marcus’ heartbeat pounded in his ears deafening every other sound around him. His hand that was holding the knife felt slick with sweat. He leaned the staff against his shoulder while grabbing the knife and wiping his sweaty hand on his tunic. Holding the knife again in his right hand, Marcus could feel his heart beat quicken, and hear it’s deafening boom each time in his ears.
The dragon’s royal blue scales made little blue spots all around him as direct sunlight from the morning sun pounded down on him. It was still sucking water from the cliff hungrily. Marcus figured that anything that spewed that much fire would get thirsty quickly. He muttered a quick prayer while tensing all of his muscles. His staff’s runes glowed green as in response to his prayer and stayed lit. Marcus looked up to the sky and nodded.
With a savage battle cry Marcus leaped off the cliff down onto the dragon. It’s head jerked up and Marcus could see the startled fear in it’s ocean blue eyes as he fell down to the beast. As soon as it recognized what he was, the dragon puffed itself up. Right before Marcus could hit it, it’s entire back turned into pointy spines like a porcupine. Marcus quickly jabbed the flat bottom of his staff at the dragon’s back, breaking through a handful of spines and vaulting him away from his pointy death.
The fall turned into a tumbling roll which Marcus got up from. The strike from the staff had knocked the dragon flat on it’s belly. It groaned and flattened it’s back while it got up. Marcus crouched and and readied his two weapons, circling the recovering dragon. It eyed him and growled, it’s lips rising in a snarl revealing a jaw full of pearly white daggers. It unfurled its wings, the span of them reaching nearly quadruple the dragon’s height. It drew them back, and with a single flap, shot forward with it’s claws outstretched, ready to bathe in blood.
Marcus sidestepped to the right of the claws and brought the staff down on the wing. The hollow bone of the appendage folded around the hard, glowing wood. The dragon screeched in pain, making Marcus’ ears feel like they were about to explode. He covered them with his fists, still holding his weapons, and stumbled away drunkenly. It’s screams died down to whimpers as it inspected the damage to it’s wing while Marcus’ head pounded and ears rang. The dragon gently folded it’s damaged wing back onto it’s back and held it in place with it’s other wing.
A low growl rumbled through the ground and up Marcus’ feet, knocking him out of his stupor. With the fog in his mind partially cleared, he turned around to find an angry blue dragon staring him down. It charged, barreling down on Marcus at a breakneck pace. It’s claws ready to tear him apart and a ball of fire prepared in it’s mouth. Marcus dived out of the way of the claws and brought up his staff in a defensive position across his chest. He quickly sheathed his knife so he could hold on to the staff with both hands.
The lines and curves on his staff glowed brighter as he pointed the gnarled top at the dragon. It sucked in a deep breath, enough to puff it’s chest all the way out. The dark throat of the beast lit up from a fire bubbling from deep inside. It puffed it all out in a massive ball of fire that swirled and and charred everything within a foot of it. It’s contrail had barely dissipated from the dragons mouth before the fireball was halfway to Marcus. He could already feel the heat on his face. It was a quarter of the distance away from him now, billowing slightly from a little breeze but not moving off course.
Marcus pulled his staff away from the flame, and from behind his shoulder, swung with every muscle he could. The staff connected and the runes on the staff flared blindingly green for a second. The fireball caught on the staff and bounced away into a large tree, exploding on impact. Smoke, fire and splinters flew everywhere, making Marcus shield his face with an arm. He could feel hundreds of tiny impacts on his skin. It stung.
Smoke and dust covered the entire impromptu battleground, obscuring all vision. The dragon was breathing heavily, in long gasping draws, Marcus could hear it. The tree that was hit by the fireball had a large blast crater that had taken out a large chunk of the tree. It groaned in protest to be still standing but remained tall as flames slowly licked up it’s sides.
The dust was starting to settle, thinning out for the white smoke of the tree that was spreading everywhere. Marcus tore a large strip of fabric from the bottom of his tunic and wrapped it around his nose and mouth. Before the dust could settle entirely he ran through it knocking a tunnel through the particle wall. When he came out on the other side, there was no smoke or dust, it was all clear air.
The dragon’s scales had lost some of their luster and It looked tired. Surprise registered on It’s face as Marcus burst out of the smoke and dust like a madman. The second it took was just enough time for Marcus to club it in the side of it’s head. It whipped around, the body following. The thick long tail spun with the body like a whip, catching Marcus’ ankles and sending him on his back.
On the fall Marcus hit his head on a rock in the ground making him see red. He grunted and opened his eyes, desperately trying to see through the fog of his own mind. Everything was spinning. It made his stomach churn. Marcus stumbled as he tried to get up, falling twice. His stomach threatened to empty itself all over the ground and he could taste the acid and feel it burn his throat and mouth.
Marcus found his staff lying on the ground and picked it up. Leaning on it helped the spinning. The dragon had taken the blow to it’s head just as poorly as he had. Around where it fell Marcus could see half digested remnants of various crushed gems littering the ground. The dragon got up staggeringly and faced him. It stumbled as it blinked and scrunched its face when it tried to walk forward. There was a dent on its head where Marcus hit it. The scales were broken and bent, sticking out haphazardly.
It sucked in a breath, the glow in the back of it’s throat lighting up again. What came out was a small tongue of flame that barely made it six inches out of it’s mouth. The fire flickered out quickly, leaving the dragon with a small cough. It tried to take an actual breath but it hitched, like the air was caught on something. It started coughing, a disgusting hacking cough that wouldn’t allow it to breathe. It fell to it’s knees and rolled over, it’s chest rising in short, quick breaths as the dragon looked to the sky of burning leaves.
Marcus hobbled over on his staff, the world starting to slow down. He pulled the knife out of it’s sheath and held it in his off hand. The dragon’s head didn’t turn but it’s eyes did, watching him approach with knife in hand. It’s breathing grew faster with each step closer. Marcus stood over the fallen dragon and looked into it’s eyes. The blue pools looked back into his green ones, fear and surprise evident as he looked. Marcus might have even recognized a spark of intelligence in them but it must have been his imagination.
The knife glinted angrily in the firelight. Marcus fell to his knees and outstretched his arms, the knife aimed at it’s heart. He brought the knife down hard onto it’s barrel. The blade cut through the dragon’s hard scales like butter. It grunted and made a wet gurgling sound, shook, then fell silent.
Fiery-red blood welled up from the wound and covered Marcus’ left hand. The blood was hot, almost scalding his skin. Marcus left it alone, the blood wasn’t harmful. He yanked the knife out of the dragon’s chest, sending out a tall gout of blood that coated the dragon’s body and the rest of Marcus’ left arm, as well as most of his tunic. He moved the knife to one of the dragon’s horns and started sawing with it’s serrated edge. Within moments, Marcus cut through and sheathed the knife. He grabbed his staff and the horn and stood up leaving the dragons body in the middle of the forest fire.
As he walked away using the staff for support, the tree that had been hit by the fireball started creaking. Marcus turned his head while still walking to see the flaming inferno that used to be a towering giant start to crumble at the weakened base. The tree groaned and creaked as it fell right on top of the dragon, bouncing a little. The fall sent up a massive cloud of smoke and ash which obscured Marcus’ vision.
He hobbled as fast as he could out of the ash cloud. Even with the impromptu mask, it was hard to breathe and everything that was exposed started to burn. When he got out of the ash cloud, Marcus ripped off the fabric and took a deep breath of still smokey but much cleaner air. He continued to run until his lungs burned like they were still in the ash cloud. He saw a large field not to far out from the trees. With only a slight change in direction, he broke out of the forest and into the field. Smoke rose in a great column that got wider and wider. Marcus could see the tips of flames peeking over the canopy.
A large boulder sat alone in the field surrounded by ankle high brown grass. Marcus went over to the boulder and sat down in the shadow it produced. His head ached. Each pound of his heartbeat bringing fresh pain now that the adrenaline was gone. He felt the back of his head and touched something very warm and wet. He looked and saw his hand was covered in blood. A warm droplet trickled warmly down the nape of his neck. Every part of him felt burnt. Ash and soot were caked on every possible area of him. His left arm burnt the worst. A searing pain that Marcus was only now beginning to feel. He coughed, desperately trying to eject the smoke from his lungs.
Using his tunic, Marcus scraped the soot off of his arm to see an angry inflamed red covering it. The dragon’s blood from earlier was gone and it felt like his arm had just been on fire but was just put out. Blood red lines pushed up from underneath his skin. Marcus could only watch in horror as his arm was scarred in jagged angular runes. They were nothing like the one’s on his staff. The runes on his staff flowed like a river and bloomed like flowers, while these looked like they were carved with something sharp and barbaric.
His arm suddenly felt like it was on fire all over again. White hot agony fired every nerve. He heard screaming but he knew no one else was around. His right hand gripped the wrist of his left, shaking in intense pain. The screaming rose in pitch, becoming slightly more animal, as if one was burning to death. At some point Marcus couldn’t remember anything other than the pain, then he saw only black.
Darkness. An inky black abyss everywhere he looked. It felt like he was floating because he couldn’t even see what he was standing on. Marcus raised his arms as if to swim through the nothingness but stopped once he saw them. His left arm was made entirely out of fire and flames, but it didn’t burn. His right arm was a mass of roots, tendrils, ivy, and leaves, all in the general shape of an arm and hand. He looked at the rest of his body and it was normal. He sighed in relief.
Something appeared in the distance, a speck of white that broke the monotony of darkness. Marcus tried to swim towards it fruitlessly, only succeeding in flailing around. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see it better, then he felt himself moving faster, wind tearing at his eyes. And then, as abruptly as he started, he stopped. The towering white walls of Atlantis were before him as he stood on the cobblestone steps outside the main gate. The walls seemed bigger and something else was wrong that he couldn’t put his finger on. There was a wooden door that looked like it could be just big enough to fit through. Of course, from this distance anything looked small.
The walk towards the door took a long time, longer than he would have thought. It was like every step forward he took the ground grew two more steps. Even though he knew that he was actually getting closer, the door stayed the same size while the wall got bigger and more imposing. Now that Marcus was closer it looked like the walls had some sort of grime covering them. When he finally reached the door, it was still the same size as earlier. He wiped his new foliage index finger on the wall and inspected the grey grime that came off. The smell that wafted from the grime was smokey. He dabbed it on his tongue. It was ash, he had tasted enough of it earlier. He spit it out on the ground, and tried to get the taste out of his mouth. The whole wall was covered in it, the ash.
Marcus went to grab the door’s handle but his hand phased right through it.
“What the-” he said, confusion twisting his face. He moved his hand through the door, up to his wrist. A strange tingling sensation shot up his arm and into his brain. Marcus’ knees felt weak and wobbly. His eyes rolled back in his head for a moment and he yanked his hand out. The feeling passed and his eyes rolled back down, a little blurry but otherwise fine. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart.
Determined to get through, Marcus made an X with his arms in front of his face and charged through the incorporeal door. A shock of ice pulled at his mind as he passed through. Breaking out on the other side, Marcus collapsed. A massive migraine tore at his consciousness. He shakily got up and saw Atlantis, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
Every house and building were smouldering piles of charcoal and rubble. Stones were baked and shattered, wood was charred, and there were thousands of blackened skeletons strewn about everywhere. He saw the bones of an adult sized person holding a child sized pile of bones even in death’s embrace. Off to his right was a pile of charred, split bones that laid in a puddle of melted bronze, an Atlantean spear resting next to it. It’s jaw was hung open as if it could still feel the pain of it’s death.
A single building remained in the distance, the temple to the Sea God, still white and gleaming. Rushing wind made him close his eyes and when he opened them, he was standing in front of the temple right in the middle of the debate square. The temple was huge; massive marble pillars supported the triangular roof with designs and carvings inlaid on them. Walking inside, Marcus noticed that not a single thing had been touched unlike everything outside. Murals on the walls detailed heroic fights, stories, and histories. A massive bronze and marble statue of the Sea God stood in the back. One foot on solid ground, a fissure erupting from it, the other on a dolphin cresting from marble water. In one hand was a tall bronze trident, the tines barbed and hooked. His beard flowing behind him like it was caught in a strong ocean breeze.
“You… You,” a shrill, creaky voice pulled at Marcus’ attention and grated at his ears. He turned to see a cloaked, hunched old crone, blind in both eyes and long, thin, greasy white hair. She was covered in soot and ash and hobbled along on a gnarled wooden cane. The cane tip-tap-ed on the marble floor as she hobbled closer.
“You bring about the coming of destruction, Young One,” she creaked, pointing her cane at his heart.
“What has been seen may come to pass if you choose poorly, for many choices you will have to make in the future,” her voice warbled slightly as she talked, giving it a musical cadence.
The destroyed city filled Marcus’ thoughts.
“No. NO!” He screamed, a little dust from the ceiling fell down. He was not going to let his city be destroyed.
“I am not going to let this happen,” He clenched his fists, one hissing the other rustling. “There has to be some way to avoid all of that,” he motioned outside.
“Only one clear path avoids this fate,” she said slowly, “all others lead to destruction.”
“Tell me which path to take then.”
“No,” the crone said bluntly.
“You must-” he started.
“You must use your wisdom and intuition to figure it out for yourself,” She finished, tapping his chest with her cane.
Marcus sighed in defeat. “I don’t know which way to go. Everything had seemed so simple before and now I have to stop… This?” He fell down to the ground and buried his head in his knees.
The crone’s voice took on a motherly tone. “You have set in place a series of events that cannot be stopped, only directed. The spilling of royal blood by your hand may have doomed your entire nation,” she place a hand on Marcus’ back and a feeling of warmth spread through him. He felt tears drip down his cheeks.
He looked up at the crone. “What royal blood? I haven’t killed anyone-” he stopped, realization of what happened clicked into place.
“The dragon? He was a royal?” He asked wiping the tears away.
“Yes. The son of their chieftain. Sent away to gain full dragonhood.”
“How can I fix it?” Marcus rose slowly to his feet.
The crone gave a small smile. “That is for you to figure out.”
Marcus watched as the bottom of her cloak caught on fire and spread quickly all over her. He didn’t hear a single sound from her as he watched in horror as the old crone was engulfed in flames. She crumbled into a pile of smouldering ashes that got swept away by a breeze he couldn’t feel. He watched as the ashes flew out the entrance and into the world. Marcus ran out to follow them and smelled the salty scent of the sea. A distant continuous crashing sound tore through the air. He looked to the ocean and saw a massive tidal wave bearing down on Atlantis.
The wave swallowed everything that it touched. With each ashy pile it ate it grew darker, until it was a black, dirty wave of death. Marcus watched as it towered over him and the temple and closed his eyes, bracing himself before it swallowed him too.
“HAH!” Marcus screamed as he bolted away from the boulder. He fell forward onto his hands and knees with deep heaving breaths. Once he calmed down, he leaned back on the boulder. The sun still had nearly a quarter left to go until sunset, which meant that he had been out for nearly six hours.
Marcus took a good look at both of his arms. They were completely normal, a little soot stained sure, but normal. His left arm had even stopped burning. The red skin and runes that had been there earlier were gone. Must have just been my imagination, that bump on my head really did a number on me, he thought. Grabbing his nearby staff, Marcus stood up, using his new weapon for support. He started walking towards Atlantis, using the staff as a walking stick. Every step felt like agony, but he had to finish what he started.
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My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
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To have peace, prepare for war.
The title alone makes this interesting, (I have a fondness for Latin) and I am adding this to my read list.
4642681 I hope you enjoy it
Nice. So I'm guessing you subscribe to the 'dragon's last tear' thing. Something like a dying dragon releases its essence in some form. If it reaches the earth it is past onto the after life, if it hits something living it passes on its life to the thing, usually resulting in partial metamorphosis or enhancements that show the host is partially dragon in essence.
Also I just wanted a clarification on the 'gain full dragonhood' thing. Is it just do X and Y and be excepted or is it a 'do something great and powerful or whatever'.
4643318 I was thinking it would be like a coming of age thing. A kind of personal metamorphosis that sends a dragon from the teenager phase we've seen in the show, to the full grown stage that we've seen every other dragon in. It wouldn't be like one second they are the teenager then they do the thing and POOF they're a massive beast. More like the act itself catalyzes the next stage of growth
4643367 Hmm... interesting.
4643398 What do you think of it other than "Interesting". Good idea or no? It can be tweaked if it's not
4643410 It's a rather good idea to have an action catalyze the massive amount of growth that would take place. I always thought it would be move like the dragon proving full independence and gathering its own horde and making or finding its own home, though for a country of dragons that would be a bit tough since the dragons are supposed to be all in one area, though carving out their own territory from surrounding areas might be a good test, which also might explain your dragon's actions as it would be declaring by the destruction of the trees and blatant eating of another dragon's gems (gems found on its land in this case) would be a declaration of 'I take this land for my own' or something of that sort.
Also, do you do the 'dragon's last tear' bit or was I just reading a bit to much into it?
4643446 I have never actually heard if that. Is it a trope? If it's what you said in your previous comment, then yes, that's more or less what I'm doing. He's not going to become dragon, he just has dragon magic now more or less. I'm going to build on it more as I write. I'm still fleshing out the things I want to do with it
4643923 Not so much a trope as a certain... belief? I'm not sure what to call it. Maybe you could call it a branch of dragon lore.
4645160 Okay, I'll try to read up on it a little