Chapter 6
(This is a flash back of sorts...)
In the darkest dimension, the most evil plane of existence, there dwelt a dragon made from the darkest shadows. These were not the shadows cast by an object thrust into the light, but the shadows that lay upon the hearts of the dwellers in other planes. These were the shadows of fear, of hatred, of malice, of cruelty and of chaos; mixed and molded together to form a dragon of terrible power, cruelty and malevolence, a creature of destruction and overwhelming shadow. It was the last of its kind, so far as it knew, and it was all the more powerful for lack of rivals. The creature had a name that none dared utter, though it had been long presumed dead. However, Deathguise was the closest translation in the common tongue.
Deathguise had entered the material plane on numerous occasions throughout history, but had never stayed long for risk of loosing his dominion in his own realm. However, now that he was the last and had no fear of another such dragon conquering while he was away, Deathguise longed to return the material plane in full power and majesty. There, he would rule unchallenged for centuries untold and such omnipotence was pleasing to him. The fear and hatred of him, so vile and cruel a master would satiate his hunger and the blood shed by his conquest would quench his thirst.
An apprentice drow sorcerer had been so foolish as to summon him in an attempt to gain power and Deathguise had thought this his opportunity to enter the world. Even as he broke the pentagram meant to keep him at bay and devoured the mage's soul and body, other dark elves had come, flinging spells at the dragon. Deathguise roared a command wrought with terrible power and many of the lesser sorcerers fell to their knees, overwhelmed. As he did battle with the master mages, priestesses of Lolth including several matron mothers entered the chamber and joined the fray. However, Deathguise, now almost entirely present in the material plane, was undaunted. In fact, he considered the resistance before him to be pathetic at best.
Then, he heard the wavering call of the rune of dark flame, his own rune and paused, turning to its source, a diminutive mage not even of pure drow blood. Growling in fury at the one who dared try to command him and his rune, he opened his massive jaws to consume the female. She raised her staff high and called the name of the rune again and this time Deathguise felt the power of the dark flame hold him to her will, if only for a short time. Surprised, the dragon did not immediately attempt to break free. It was at this time that the mage looked into the burning red eyes of Deathguise and uttered the rune and spell of binding. The dragon could never forget those green eyes, ever changing like the leaves of a tree in a summer breeze. They were filled with a strange fire, the likes of which he had never before seen in a drow, and they held deep sorrow, pain and grim determination.
With a strangled howl of rage, Deathguise tried to leap forward and attack this small mage, but he found he could not. Therefore, he pushed his will against the binding and against the dark flame, but the combined power of the two runes held. He pushed again, harder, driving his might against the mage. She fell to her knees, her will striving with his own, though their eyes remained locked. The other sorcerers and priestesses ceased their chanting as they felt the duel of powers between the mighty dragon and the young mage they had scorned and reviled for her mixed blood. Few of the masters or matrons knew exactly what was passing between the two, locked together by some force, though all perceived the strange bond and mighty struggle.
As they watched, the half drow began to murmur the spell of sealing. The dragon growled and seemed to grow darker, more menacing, taking a single step forward. The mage slowly pulled herself to her feet, but was sent flying backwards as if from a blow. She continued to chant the incantation. Despite numerous blows against her, she somehow completed the spell and all but collapsed upon her staff. She was bleeding in many places, a few ribs seemed broken and she seemed on the verge of blacking out. Nevertheless, with a final thrust of effort, she held her staff aloft and cried the final words, the names of the three runes of power. The symbols flashed upon the pole, each with a different light and then the lights combined, flowing outward to surround both the girl and the dragon. Deathguise screamed in anger and lunged forward at the young mage, throwing her hard against the wall even as she cried the master rune, the rune that ended all spells of great power. Against all possibility, the sorcerer lifted her head from the ground where she lay in a mangled heap, at least one, more likely two limbs broken. Before Deathguise could crawl forward and devour the helpless mage, however, he met her green eyes, filled with tortuous pain, and saw a gleam of triumph. Then he felt her command over him and was forced back through the portal opened by the one who had summoned him. He tried to resist, but the spell, now completed, forced him to obey. For now, the mage had the greater control over their shared bond. Screaming and bellowing with rage, Deathguise disappeared back to his own plane.
Once he was beyond the border and the portal closed behind him, the mage moaned in agony then slipped into a semiconscious state, nigh unto death. Because of the bond now present, Deathguise could feel her injuries and pain, but dully. Still, he fed upon it, brooding upon revenge. Also, he thought upon the ancient spell she had performed. It would likely kill her, but her soul would remain bound to his and, unless he could break the spell, he, too, would die. However, if he could gain a little more control over the bond, then Deathguise could draw her soul into his realm and therefore open a gateway and be able to torment for eternity the drow who had outwitted him, who had dared use the runes against him. Despite her weakened state, he could not gain the mastery of the bond for it was still fresh and she possessed the staff. Another way to cause pain to that mage and be able to open the way for him would be to break the staff, but that was almost impossible for the dragon to achieve while he was in his own realm.
The mage felt the dark thoughts of the dragon, at least the ones it did not conceal, and her soul shivered even as it wavered upon the edge of death. Her body had been carefully taken from the chamber of summoning and brought back to her house. It had been placed upon a cot in a small room near the family's temple. There, she lay, dying by inches while her family sat together in an adjoining room, discussing what had happened and what should be done. Malice, having only recently asked for Zin-carla, dared not summon a yochol to inquire about Deathguise and what had transpired between the mage and he, but she was certain that Matron Baerne would.
"You are proved quite wrong Briza," she remarked to her oldest daughter as Vierna was sent off to fetch a few healing potions for the mage. "Chenalai has indeed proved useful. Surely we have risen in the favor of Lolth today because of her actions."
"But what did she do, matron mother?" demanded Maya.
"That remains a mystery. She cast a spell of great power using runes only a master is allowed access to," interjected Briza. "Will not her superiors in Sorcere be angered?"
"Perhaps. That is a great risk, so I shall order her to remain here," replied Malice, thoughtfully, after a few moments of silence. "Still, I wonder why she has not displayed her power before or at least eliminated a few other mages to improve her rank among the wizards. Perhaps it has something to do with her loyalty to Zaknafein and Drizzt. She shares in their distaste of Lolth and her own people. Well, that is a matter best left till later."
At that moment, Vierna returned. "I set her broken bones then administered the potion," she murmured. "Chenalai is now sleeping, healing. The wounds, however, are healing slower than they should. I think that they should be completely healed in a few days if we administer a potent healing potion daily."
"That is good. Once she is able to talk, we can force answers out of her!" hissed Briza.
Malice shot a silencing look at her oldest daughter. "Such things may be best left to her alone for now. You will have plenty of time to get answers when Chenalai is fully healed and aware of her position. She may not even know what happened."
The mage was not asleep as her family believed. Though barely able to retain consciousness, she listened to their conversation and through her Deathguise listened, too. When she heard them open the door and depart, Chenalai allowed herself to slip into peaceful oblivion, shattered only by dark dreams given her by the dragon in which the mage moaned and screamed, writhing upon the bed, despite the injuries, and clutching her staff tightly. The high priestesses attempted to read her thoughts and see what troubled her so, but they were blocked by the unseen shadow of the dragon.
Thus, a week passed before Chenalai regained consciousness. Even then, she was week and her nights continued to be disturbed by the dreams. However, slowly she was able to force the dreams away and gain untroubled sleep, but Chenalai was never wholly able to thrust the nightmares aside.
)(
As Chenalai and Morro rode along in silence, the half drow contemplated her ongoing battle with Deathguise even as the dragon brooded upon it in his own realm. He had lost another battle with the mage, but he had discovered her doubt and cackled evilly. Deathguise sat, cogitating upon the ways he could turn this to his advantage.
Chenalai felt pleasure tickle the dragon and shivered, wondering what had made him happy. However, she was dead tired, her most recent confrontation having called to mind the pain of wounds suffered at the dragon's claws, of the dreams and of the immense struggle and also the strength and energy she had spent in casting and maintaining the spell. Because of this expenditure, she was unable to divert too much of her power towards casting other spells. Yawning softly, Chenalai drew her mind away from her dark memories to other things. Then, with a sigh, she leaned her head against Morro's shoulder and drifted off to sleep as his horse, Chory, plodded along.
Author stuff:
Well, I know I said I would write a back story and I still intend to, but this little bit of history is necessary, at least in my mind, for you to understand some up-coming events. I know this whole story is strange and rather unbelievable, but I am just letting my mind come up with an interesting plot, etc. This is my first fan fiction, you know... Anyway, please R&R if you have not done so and R&R the new stuff if you have...
I don't mind constructive criticism. It is the ranting sort that offers no suggestions for improvement that I dislike.
Dragon of Darkness
(This is a flash back of sorts...)
In the darkest dimension, the most evil plane of existence, there dwelt a dragon made from the darkest shadows. These were not the shadows cast by an object thrust into the light, but the shadows that lay upon the hearts of the dwellers in other planes. These were the shadows of fear, of hatred, of malice, of cruelty and of chaos; mixed and molded together to form a dragon of terrible power, cruelty and malevolence, a creature of destruction and overwhelming shadow. It was the last of its kind, so far as it knew, and it was all the more powerful for lack of rivals. The creature had a name that none dared utter, though it had been long presumed dead. However, Deathguise was the closest translation in the common tongue.
Deathguise had entered the material plane on numerous occasions throughout history, but had never stayed long for risk of loosing his dominion in his own realm. However, now that he was the last and had no fear of another such dragon conquering while he was away, Deathguise longed to return the material plane in full power and majesty. There, he would rule unchallenged for centuries untold and such omnipotence was pleasing to him. The fear and hatred of him, so vile and cruel a master would satiate his hunger and the blood shed by his conquest would quench his thirst.
An apprentice drow sorcerer had been so foolish as to summon him in an attempt to gain power and Deathguise had thought this his opportunity to enter the world. Even as he broke the pentagram meant to keep him at bay and devoured the mage's soul and body, other dark elves had come, flinging spells at the dragon. Deathguise roared a command wrought with terrible power and many of the lesser sorcerers fell to their knees, overwhelmed. As he did battle with the master mages, priestesses of Lolth including several matron mothers entered the chamber and joined the fray. However, Deathguise, now almost entirely present in the material plane, was undaunted. In fact, he considered the resistance before him to be pathetic at best.
Then, he heard the wavering call of the rune of dark flame, his own rune and paused, turning to its source, a diminutive mage not even of pure drow blood. Growling in fury at the one who dared try to command him and his rune, he opened his massive jaws to consume the female. She raised her staff high and called the name of the rune again and this time Deathguise felt the power of the dark flame hold him to her will, if only for a short time. Surprised, the dragon did not immediately attempt to break free. It was at this time that the mage looked into the burning red eyes of Deathguise and uttered the rune and spell of binding. The dragon could never forget those green eyes, ever changing like the leaves of a tree in a summer breeze. They were filled with a strange fire, the likes of which he had never before seen in a drow, and they held deep sorrow, pain and grim determination.
With a strangled howl of rage, Deathguise tried to leap forward and attack this small mage, but he found he could not. Therefore, he pushed his will against the binding and against the dark flame, but the combined power of the two runes held. He pushed again, harder, driving his might against the mage. She fell to her knees, her will striving with his own, though their eyes remained locked. The other sorcerers and priestesses ceased their chanting as they felt the duel of powers between the mighty dragon and the young mage they had scorned and reviled for her mixed blood. Few of the masters or matrons knew exactly what was passing between the two, locked together by some force, though all perceived the strange bond and mighty struggle.
As they watched, the half drow began to murmur the spell of sealing. The dragon growled and seemed to grow darker, more menacing, taking a single step forward. The mage slowly pulled herself to her feet, but was sent flying backwards as if from a blow. She continued to chant the incantation. Despite numerous blows against her, she somehow completed the spell and all but collapsed upon her staff. She was bleeding in many places, a few ribs seemed broken and she seemed on the verge of blacking out. Nevertheless, with a final thrust of effort, she held her staff aloft and cried the final words, the names of the three runes of power. The symbols flashed upon the pole, each with a different light and then the lights combined, flowing outward to surround both the girl and the dragon. Deathguise screamed in anger and lunged forward at the young mage, throwing her hard against the wall even as she cried the master rune, the rune that ended all spells of great power. Against all possibility, the sorcerer lifted her head from the ground where she lay in a mangled heap, at least one, more likely two limbs broken. Before Deathguise could crawl forward and devour the helpless mage, however, he met her green eyes, filled with tortuous pain, and saw a gleam of triumph. Then he felt her command over him and was forced back through the portal opened by the one who had summoned him. He tried to resist, but the spell, now completed, forced him to obey. For now, the mage had the greater control over their shared bond. Screaming and bellowing with rage, Deathguise disappeared back to his own plane.
Once he was beyond the border and the portal closed behind him, the mage moaned in agony then slipped into a semiconscious state, nigh unto death. Because of the bond now present, Deathguise could feel her injuries and pain, but dully. Still, he fed upon it, brooding upon revenge. Also, he thought upon the ancient spell she had performed. It would likely kill her, but her soul would remain bound to his and, unless he could break the spell, he, too, would die. However, if he could gain a little more control over the bond, then Deathguise could draw her soul into his realm and therefore open a gateway and be able to torment for eternity the drow who had outwitted him, who had dared use the runes against him. Despite her weakened state, he could not gain the mastery of the bond for it was still fresh and she possessed the staff. Another way to cause pain to that mage and be able to open the way for him would be to break the staff, but that was almost impossible for the dragon to achieve while he was in his own realm.
The mage felt the dark thoughts of the dragon, at least the ones it did not conceal, and her soul shivered even as it wavered upon the edge of death. Her body had been carefully taken from the chamber of summoning and brought back to her house. It had been placed upon a cot in a small room near the family's temple. There, she lay, dying by inches while her family sat together in an adjoining room, discussing what had happened and what should be done. Malice, having only recently asked for Zin-carla, dared not summon a yochol to inquire about Deathguise and what had transpired between the mage and he, but she was certain that Matron Baerne would.
"You are proved quite wrong Briza," she remarked to her oldest daughter as Vierna was sent off to fetch a few healing potions for the mage. "Chenalai has indeed proved useful. Surely we have risen in the favor of Lolth today because of her actions."
"But what did she do, matron mother?" demanded Maya.
"That remains a mystery. She cast a spell of great power using runes only a master is allowed access to," interjected Briza. "Will not her superiors in Sorcere be angered?"
"Perhaps. That is a great risk, so I shall order her to remain here," replied Malice, thoughtfully, after a few moments of silence. "Still, I wonder why she has not displayed her power before or at least eliminated a few other mages to improve her rank among the wizards. Perhaps it has something to do with her loyalty to Zaknafein and Drizzt. She shares in their distaste of Lolth and her own people. Well, that is a matter best left till later."
At that moment, Vierna returned. "I set her broken bones then administered the potion," she murmured. "Chenalai is now sleeping, healing. The wounds, however, are healing slower than they should. I think that they should be completely healed in a few days if we administer a potent healing potion daily."
"That is good. Once she is able to talk, we can force answers out of her!" hissed Briza.
Malice shot a silencing look at her oldest daughter. "Such things may be best left to her alone for now. You will have plenty of time to get answers when Chenalai is fully healed and aware of her position. She may not even know what happened."
The mage was not asleep as her family believed. Though barely able to retain consciousness, she listened to their conversation and through her Deathguise listened, too. When she heard them open the door and depart, Chenalai allowed herself to slip into peaceful oblivion, shattered only by dark dreams given her by the dragon in which the mage moaned and screamed, writhing upon the bed, despite the injuries, and clutching her staff tightly. The high priestesses attempted to read her thoughts and see what troubled her so, but they were blocked by the unseen shadow of the dragon.
Thus, a week passed before Chenalai regained consciousness. Even then, she was week and her nights continued to be disturbed by the dreams. However, slowly she was able to force the dreams away and gain untroubled sleep, but Chenalai was never wholly able to thrust the nightmares aside.
)(
As Chenalai and Morro rode along in silence, the half drow contemplated her ongoing battle with Deathguise even as the dragon brooded upon it in his own realm. He had lost another battle with the mage, but he had discovered her doubt and cackled evilly. Deathguise sat, cogitating upon the ways he could turn this to his advantage.
Chenalai felt pleasure tickle the dragon and shivered, wondering what had made him happy. However, she was dead tired, her most recent confrontation having called to mind the pain of wounds suffered at the dragon's claws, of the dreams and of the immense struggle and also the strength and energy she had spent in casting and maintaining the spell. Because of this expenditure, she was unable to divert too much of her power towards casting other spells. Yawning softly, Chenalai drew her mind away from her dark memories to other things. Then, with a sigh, she leaned her head against Morro's shoulder and drifted off to sleep as his horse, Chory, plodded along.
Author stuff:
Well, I know I said I would write a back story and I still intend to, but this little bit of history is necessary, at least in my mind, for you to understand some up-coming events. I know this whole story is strange and rather unbelievable, but I am just letting my mind come up with an interesting plot, etc. This is my first fan fiction, you know... Anyway, please R&R if you have not done so and R&R the new stuff if you have...
I don't mind constructive criticism. It is the ranting sort that offers no suggestions for improvement that I dislike.
Dragon of Darkness