Title: From Dust to Dust
Author: Anansi
Rating: T
Genre: Action, Adventure
Spoilers: Various mentions of Labyrinthine fauna, some from the story, some not.
Warnings: None really. Some violence.
Pairings: Othello x Zephyr
Disclaimer: Obviously I'm not trying to steal their series. The only part of Death Gate I own is the enjoyment I derive from writing in Weis's/Hickman's universe. The characters I make up, Othello, Zephyr, and now Blanc, are mine, and the spells I use are my own.
Summary: Othello and Zephyr meet a creation of the Labyrinth gone horribly wrong.
Author's Note: The seventh fanfic of the Death Gate! I urge you all to post! Welcome to the new author in this section- DarkAnimus. Glad to see someone new taking an interest in one of Weis's finest creations. Also, a word to you all, I'm changing my screen name to Anansi. It has a sentimental meaning to me, so that's why I'm changing it.
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From Dust to Dust
The shadowdragon leered over them with an expression akin to that of a smug cat about to catch a mouse. Othello rolled quickly, springing to his knees. He wove runes quickly, completed the circle, and lauched a huge column of fire at the dragon's head. The dragon smiled and was suddenly made of nothing more than wisps of black smoke. The spell passed through it harmlessly, rocketing into the sky. Othello grimaced, then tried a whirlwind spell, again to no effect. The dragon solidified, swung a heavy claw, and backhanded the Patryn into the sky.
Othello yelled in pain and anger as the ground fell away from him, the huge cluster of rocks he'd taken shelter in becoming a speck as he reached the apex of his flight, then rushing back up to meet him.
Zephyr looked up in horror, then dove out of the way as Othello, clutching an impact shield about him, plummeted towards her, hitting the rock so fast, it shattered, and the Patryn disappeared in a cloud of splintered stone and superheated sand. The dragon laughed, scooping up Zephyr in one claw and holding her up to eye level. "Not as tough as he looks, is he?"
Zephyr clapped the runes together. The outcropping of rock behind the dragon broke loose and rocketed at its huge black head. The dragon dissipated, and the rock simply passed through the back of its skull and came out its forehead, flying past Zephyr, who'd been dropped when the dragon phased. "That was very rude. I should punish you for that." Its silly, falsely high voice suddenly became deep and demonic. The dragon lifted itself from the ground with its huge black wings, then lunged forward, catching Zephyr between its snout and the wall and blasting through stone. Zephyr fell to the sand, conjuring a sandstorm, but the dragon simply flew through it. It pounced upon her, bent its head low, and with one claw, began tracing a six pointed star into her chest.
Zephyr writhed and struggled to break free as her soul began to separate from her body.
Othello staggered to his feet, grabbing his saber. He looked up. He was in a very, very deep hole. He was just finishing his levitation spell when a black shape hurtled overhead. The Patryn clambered from the hole in time to see a humanoid figure, dressed in black, hit the shadowdragon with his arm. This was remarkable, because whoever he was, they actually hit the dragon. There was a flash of green, and the beast slammed into the dirt. Othello rushed over to help, but the black-garbed figure whirled and kicked him in the chest. For the second time that day, Othello found himself flying through the air. "I'm not attacking y-" He cut himself off abrubtly as his body hit the rock again.
Zephyr raced back to the rock to help Othello. She'd just reached him when he said, "L-look!" She spun just in time to see the black-garbed figure pick up the dragon by its throat, ignoring the slashing claws that were desperately trying to draw a six-pointed star on the assailant's chest. The black-garbed figure pulled something little and green from his pocket, shoved it in the dragon's mouth, and put his arm over his masked face, and turned away. There was a blinding flash of white light that left Zephyr and Othello rubbing at their eyes.
When they opened them again, the black-garbed figure was crouching right by them, masked head cocked to the side. Othello looked past him. The dragon was gone. "Wh-who are you?"
The black-garbed figure took off his mask. He had no face. His head was a blank oval. Then his mouth opened, revealing slightly pointed, pearly white teeth. Othello frowned. How could his mouth open if he didn't have a mouth?
"I am Blanc." The creature said, wrinkling his nose and gazing at the two Patryns with eyes the color of drying blood. His ears twitched as they came into existence, and hair the color of sand flew about in the slight desert wind. "Who are you?"
"I am Othello, and this," the Patryn got to his feet, "is Zephyr." He kept rigid eye contact with Blanc. "I suppose I should ask you: What are you?"
"I am the killer of all things magic." Blanc got up. "And you, Patryn, are magic."
Othello got to his feet. "Why does all of this happen to me?" He wove the runes.
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