Post by J.Hollick on Nov 30, 2012 18:41:02 GMT -9
The Death Of SilverSky
A short story taking place in the world of my completed novel, The Age Of Heroes: Before The Legend.
The fire burned in the hearth and the old woman called the children round. They sat eagerly near the warm fire as the old woman settled into the moth eaten chair. She quieted the children and began to speak.
“Long ago, before the Divide, the people of the western plains were tormented by the great white dragon SilverSky. She would fly from the mountains, destroying entire villages to feast on sheep or cows. Her blue green flames froze you as they burned. So large was SilverSky that she could eat horses whole with a snap and a gulp. Her scales were pure white and glowed silver around the edges. Her horns, teeth, claws and spikes a dark icy blue. Her eyes were blue with large white pupils that some say could see into your soul and even destroy you from within. So old that she lived thousands of years before the age of Gods among Men. Born during the age of Magic, some say SilverSky was born from the seed of Megor, a ColdOne, who had transformed the great dragon BlackFire into a maiden with skin of cream and long black locks dangling down past her waist. Her eyes were sapphires, forever downcast in submission and he dressed her in gowns of silk and satin and kept her in his coastal villa. So entranced by her beauty he soon married her. The powerful dragon was trapped; her mind unable to fully comprehend the world around her so she lived as if in a daze. However the spell was unable to chain the powerful dragon forever to her human body and one night, a year after they wed, wings blacker than night sprouted from her shoulder blades and teeth sharp and bone white grew down from her mouth. Megor called upon all the great warlocks of the realm to save his beautiful wife whom he called Fiora but none could match the ancient magic and rebind the chains and within a fortnight BlackFire was a dragon again. Black flames burned the coastal villa with Megor inside and she flew away to her lair, her belly swollen with child. For the first and only time in our known history, a dragon gave birth to live young.
SilverSky was born. Her lair lay just beyond the plains in a great mountain cavern she had carved with fire and ice. The people of the plains called desperately for a hero.
It was after one especially viscous attack; when flames of ice licked at the village, burning it away while thick acrid smoke flowed upwards, chilling the air. The villagers scrambled away, nursing blackened limbs that burned with an icy sting. Their breath steamed as it hit the air and they shivered as they ran through the frosted grass of the plains. The smell of burnt flesh surrounded them as their whimpers and screams carried along the wind. Bodies lay still among the smoldering ruins, their lips blue and open eyes glazed over with a thin layer of ice. Their skin covered in patches burnt black or a bright pink, sometimes whole bodies consumed to the point where they could no longer be identified.
The great white mass of SilverSky could be seen disappearing on the horizon, towards her mountain home.
Night was falling, the villagers who had scattered had eventually found each other and now huddled together for warmth, sitting down among the grass they were using for bedding. Their bellies rumbled but the images stuck in their heads would not allow them to eat even if they had had food with them. Suddenly a scrawny youth jumped to his feet and pointed into the darkness. A figure on a white horse rode towards them, behind him a second man on a black horse.
Nakir reached the villagers, his white and silver armour shining even in the utter blackness. His mirror shield with the bright blue rune painted across it and his long shimmering sword. He stepped from the saddle and the villagers quickly all bowed before him, thanking him for his bravery and justice. As he spoke the villagers rallied around him. Behind him, the figure in black swept from his horse and wandered quickly through the villagers, his black billowing robes swirling in the night. He carried with him a leather satchel filled with herbs and pastes and other concoctions as he began to examine and heal their wounds. He was Darthanial, brother to Nakir and the God of Blood. He did not speak, his square jaw set in determination as he quickly but gently bandaged their burns. Nakir stole the spotlight in his glowing plate mail armor but for any who watched the powers of Darthanial they would see the dying come back to life as he lent over them, his skin glowing a faint silver, hidden mostly by his robes. He saved all he could and when he was done they opened their saddlebags and gave what food and water they could. Without pausing for sleep the two rode on, towards the mountains.
The sun rose, orange and radiant, as the two Gods among men began the ascent up the mountain. Finding the cave of SilverSky was far easier than either had thought, in the middle of summer they simply followed the frost and unnatural cold. The closer they got the colder it became. The ground was frozen beneath their feet, everything covered in a layer of frost and all the trees dying. There were no birds in the air or squirrels in the trees or gophers in the ground. Just an eerie silence and a chill that crept right into their bones and settled there.
The opening to the mouth of the cave was enormous. Enough for forty horsemen to ride side by side. The stone itself was perfectly smooth and warped, melted away by the icefire of SilverSky. The brothers rode slowly towards, dismounting they tied their horses to trees and entered the lair of the great ice dragon.
The cave was deep and ran into the mountain for many miles. Eventually the entrance to the cave was nothing but a pinprick of light in the distance and all around them nothing but darkness. A foul smell reached their nostrils as great gusts of ice cold wind blew down the tunnel. Silently, Nakir drew his sword. Shield raised they pressed forward more slowly.
The cave opened up and became even larger. Lying in the middle on a bed of ice, the great white dragon SilverSky lay curled up, her tail wrapped around and nestled against her great, wide jaw. Her breath the icy gusts they had felt earlier in the tunnel. Her leather scales glistened like a mountain of frosted diamonds as she slept peacefully, her sides expanding and contracting rhythmically. Darthanial slipped off into the shadows. Darthanial was no warrior, though he was never absent from his brother’s battles.
When Darthanial was safely hidden away Nakir began to stamp his feet. 1, 2, 3, 4. Side to side, foot to foot, his heavy armor vibrating off the ice. His feet still stamping he began to hit his shield with his sword, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. The dragon stirred gently, its tail flicking in its sleep. One eye opened, a white pupil surrounded by deep cerulean. Half asleep she took in the knight in the glowing white armor and for a split second the eye almost closed. Comprehension came quickly, along with a blast of icefire and a screech that rang around the cavern, deafening Darthanial and Nakir. Darthanial crouched behind his mirror shield and the fire burned all around him. The ice beneath him melted and froze with the flames, trapping his feet. He struggled to pull his feet from the ice but they were stuck fast. The dragon was rising now, her wingspan stretching the vast length of the cavern and her tail curling upwards with its dangerous blue spikes. She screeched again and blew a second black of icefire. Nakir took the opportunity to remove his feet, shielding himself from the fire he pushed forward against the flames. It felt like fighting a hurricane and he leaned all his weight into it, his feet slipping on the icy floor that was melting and freezing around him. Slowly he made his way across the cavern, the icefire diminishing and finally subsiding as SilverSky paused for a second breath. Her wing came crashing towards him and he leapt out of the way, further closing the distance.
A slash to her leg send scarlet blood seeping out over the ice and a swing of her tail sent Nakir skimming across the cavern. He came at her again, running, leaping, slashing. He cut her other foot and more blood seeped out, she raked him with her wing, inside the armor he was protected from the cuts but his body was being becoming trampled within it. He leapt over her tail and came town, severing the tip with the spikes and it writhed and vaulted around the cave as if it had a will of its own. SilverSky’s eyes darkened, anger flooded her.
This time, as SilverSky reared her head back, filling her lungs with air, Nakir whispered a word. The rune on his shield began to glow faintly. This time, when SilverSky released her stream of icefire it struck the shield but instead of reflecting around it the flames began reflect backwards. Slowly the flames reflected back up the stream of blue and green shooting from her mouth, coming closer and closer. SilverSky saw what was happening and she forced more flames from her mouth but the more fire she sent the faster it came towards her, writhing and twisting like a liquid. The air was gone from her lungs and the fire ceased and every jet of icefire she had spat towards Nakir suddenly came at her in one giant, liquid ball. She screeched a final time as it burst against her face, searing her flesh and melting it until only her skull remained. Slowly she toppled to the floor, her melted flesh freezing to the ground in a giant blob of white hide and scales. Nakir stood before the mountainous form of SilverSky, blood dripped gently from his blade, freezing as it landed on the ice. The reign of SilverSky that had lasted over a thousand years was at an end.
And now to bed with all o’ you!” The old woman yelled, brandishing her cane like a sword. With screams of fright and amusement the children all scattered off to their beds or into their mothers arms.
A short story taking place in the world of my completed novel, The Age Of Heroes: Before The Legend.
The fire burned in the hearth and the old woman called the children round. They sat eagerly near the warm fire as the old woman settled into the moth eaten chair. She quieted the children and began to speak.
“Long ago, before the Divide, the people of the western plains were tormented by the great white dragon SilverSky. She would fly from the mountains, destroying entire villages to feast on sheep or cows. Her blue green flames froze you as they burned. So large was SilverSky that she could eat horses whole with a snap and a gulp. Her scales were pure white and glowed silver around the edges. Her horns, teeth, claws and spikes a dark icy blue. Her eyes were blue with large white pupils that some say could see into your soul and even destroy you from within. So old that she lived thousands of years before the age of Gods among Men. Born during the age of Magic, some say SilverSky was born from the seed of Megor, a ColdOne, who had transformed the great dragon BlackFire into a maiden with skin of cream and long black locks dangling down past her waist. Her eyes were sapphires, forever downcast in submission and he dressed her in gowns of silk and satin and kept her in his coastal villa. So entranced by her beauty he soon married her. The powerful dragon was trapped; her mind unable to fully comprehend the world around her so she lived as if in a daze. However the spell was unable to chain the powerful dragon forever to her human body and one night, a year after they wed, wings blacker than night sprouted from her shoulder blades and teeth sharp and bone white grew down from her mouth. Megor called upon all the great warlocks of the realm to save his beautiful wife whom he called Fiora but none could match the ancient magic and rebind the chains and within a fortnight BlackFire was a dragon again. Black flames burned the coastal villa with Megor inside and she flew away to her lair, her belly swollen with child. For the first and only time in our known history, a dragon gave birth to live young.
SilverSky was born. Her lair lay just beyond the plains in a great mountain cavern she had carved with fire and ice. The people of the plains called desperately for a hero.
It was after one especially viscous attack; when flames of ice licked at the village, burning it away while thick acrid smoke flowed upwards, chilling the air. The villagers scrambled away, nursing blackened limbs that burned with an icy sting. Their breath steamed as it hit the air and they shivered as they ran through the frosted grass of the plains. The smell of burnt flesh surrounded them as their whimpers and screams carried along the wind. Bodies lay still among the smoldering ruins, their lips blue and open eyes glazed over with a thin layer of ice. Their skin covered in patches burnt black or a bright pink, sometimes whole bodies consumed to the point where they could no longer be identified.
The great white mass of SilverSky could be seen disappearing on the horizon, towards her mountain home.
Night was falling, the villagers who had scattered had eventually found each other and now huddled together for warmth, sitting down among the grass they were using for bedding. Their bellies rumbled but the images stuck in their heads would not allow them to eat even if they had had food with them. Suddenly a scrawny youth jumped to his feet and pointed into the darkness. A figure on a white horse rode towards them, behind him a second man on a black horse.
Nakir reached the villagers, his white and silver armour shining even in the utter blackness. His mirror shield with the bright blue rune painted across it and his long shimmering sword. He stepped from the saddle and the villagers quickly all bowed before him, thanking him for his bravery and justice. As he spoke the villagers rallied around him. Behind him, the figure in black swept from his horse and wandered quickly through the villagers, his black billowing robes swirling in the night. He carried with him a leather satchel filled with herbs and pastes and other concoctions as he began to examine and heal their wounds. He was Darthanial, brother to Nakir and the God of Blood. He did not speak, his square jaw set in determination as he quickly but gently bandaged their burns. Nakir stole the spotlight in his glowing plate mail armor but for any who watched the powers of Darthanial they would see the dying come back to life as he lent over them, his skin glowing a faint silver, hidden mostly by his robes. He saved all he could and when he was done they opened their saddlebags and gave what food and water they could. Without pausing for sleep the two rode on, towards the mountains.
The sun rose, orange and radiant, as the two Gods among men began the ascent up the mountain. Finding the cave of SilverSky was far easier than either had thought, in the middle of summer they simply followed the frost and unnatural cold. The closer they got the colder it became. The ground was frozen beneath their feet, everything covered in a layer of frost and all the trees dying. There were no birds in the air or squirrels in the trees or gophers in the ground. Just an eerie silence and a chill that crept right into their bones and settled there.
The opening to the mouth of the cave was enormous. Enough for forty horsemen to ride side by side. The stone itself was perfectly smooth and warped, melted away by the icefire of SilverSky. The brothers rode slowly towards, dismounting they tied their horses to trees and entered the lair of the great ice dragon.
The cave was deep and ran into the mountain for many miles. Eventually the entrance to the cave was nothing but a pinprick of light in the distance and all around them nothing but darkness. A foul smell reached their nostrils as great gusts of ice cold wind blew down the tunnel. Silently, Nakir drew his sword. Shield raised they pressed forward more slowly.
The cave opened up and became even larger. Lying in the middle on a bed of ice, the great white dragon SilverSky lay curled up, her tail wrapped around and nestled against her great, wide jaw. Her breath the icy gusts they had felt earlier in the tunnel. Her leather scales glistened like a mountain of frosted diamonds as she slept peacefully, her sides expanding and contracting rhythmically. Darthanial slipped off into the shadows. Darthanial was no warrior, though he was never absent from his brother’s battles.
When Darthanial was safely hidden away Nakir began to stamp his feet. 1, 2, 3, 4. Side to side, foot to foot, his heavy armor vibrating off the ice. His feet still stamping he began to hit his shield with his sword, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. The dragon stirred gently, its tail flicking in its sleep. One eye opened, a white pupil surrounded by deep cerulean. Half asleep she took in the knight in the glowing white armor and for a split second the eye almost closed. Comprehension came quickly, along with a blast of icefire and a screech that rang around the cavern, deafening Darthanial and Nakir. Darthanial crouched behind his mirror shield and the fire burned all around him. The ice beneath him melted and froze with the flames, trapping his feet. He struggled to pull his feet from the ice but they were stuck fast. The dragon was rising now, her wingspan stretching the vast length of the cavern and her tail curling upwards with its dangerous blue spikes. She screeched again and blew a second black of icefire. Nakir took the opportunity to remove his feet, shielding himself from the fire he pushed forward against the flames. It felt like fighting a hurricane and he leaned all his weight into it, his feet slipping on the icy floor that was melting and freezing around him. Slowly he made his way across the cavern, the icefire diminishing and finally subsiding as SilverSky paused for a second breath. Her wing came crashing towards him and he leapt out of the way, further closing the distance.
A slash to her leg send scarlet blood seeping out over the ice and a swing of her tail sent Nakir skimming across the cavern. He came at her again, running, leaping, slashing. He cut her other foot and more blood seeped out, she raked him with her wing, inside the armor he was protected from the cuts but his body was being becoming trampled within it. He leapt over her tail and came town, severing the tip with the spikes and it writhed and vaulted around the cave as if it had a will of its own. SilverSky’s eyes darkened, anger flooded her.
This time, as SilverSky reared her head back, filling her lungs with air, Nakir whispered a word. The rune on his shield began to glow faintly. This time, when SilverSky released her stream of icefire it struck the shield but instead of reflecting around it the flames began reflect backwards. Slowly the flames reflected back up the stream of blue and green shooting from her mouth, coming closer and closer. SilverSky saw what was happening and she forced more flames from her mouth but the more fire she sent the faster it came towards her, writhing and twisting like a liquid. The air was gone from her lungs and the fire ceased and every jet of icefire she had spat towards Nakir suddenly came at her in one giant, liquid ball. She screeched a final time as it burst against her face, searing her flesh and melting it until only her skull remained. Slowly she toppled to the floor, her melted flesh freezing to the ground in a giant blob of white hide and scales. Nakir stood before the mountainous form of SilverSky, blood dripped gently from his blade, freezing as it landed on the ice. The reign of SilverSky that had lasted over a thousand years was at an end.
And now to bed with all o’ you!” The old woman yelled, brandishing her cane like a sword. With screams of fright and amusement the children all scattered off to their beds or into their mothers arms.
