[This segment is shorter, but I wanted to avoid having too long of a gap between writing sections. Hopefully this will help me be more consistent]
Orren could see the deadly dance between man and demon from the corner of his eye as he knelt on the rocky shore. It was like viewing a memory within one’s mind. Orren was present in body, but his spirit was no longer confined to the cave. The runes he had carved into the ground around him would prevent the beast from assaulting his physical form…for a time. He could see the Mountain with his mind’s eye, could feel the power that lived eternal at its peak.The fight was not his to win or lose, he could but call for aid and hope that his petition be answered. He closed his eyes and began:
“Descend oh Sorra;
Scatter your enemies
and those who hate you and flee before your name.
As smoke is driven away,
so are they driven;
as wax melts before the fire,
so the wicked perish in your presence.”
I see you mortal…I feel your weakness, your pathetic summons. Why must you call for help? Why should he not come down off the mountain of his own accord? Because there is nothing on the summit. You are alone. I am all there is.
“We drive you from us,
whoever you may be,
assemblies and sects.”
We need not be enemies, my son. I know your deepest desires! I have peered into your heart and the hearts of all men, I have seen the faces of those you long for…the ones you lost…the ones you failed. They are here with me in endless night, tormented by the flames that give no light. Say the word…serve me, serve my master and they will be free. Ride through the gates with us! We shall burn the city to the ground. We can rebuild it in our image, you will be Lord over all those that cast you out.
He began to feel again the cavity deep within his soul, the wound born from cruel twists of fate and the inscrutable will of the divine. A faithful shieldbearer and defender of the holy were all he had ever been. His devotion was rewarded with ashes and misery. Was he nothing more than a tool, something to be discarded once its usefulness has run its course? Were they? He felt his connection to the Sorra begin to fade. He looked over and saw Berek crouched behind Orren’s shield, pinned between the blows of diabolical tendrils and the wall of the cave. He would not be able to withstand the blows much longer.
He is nothing to you! Let him die. It is a just punishment for his crimes. He will not be mourned, he has no one…he is nothing. He is dust to be shaken from your shield when I am done.
His shield, his life, his purpose. He remembered now. He remembered her song. He remembered their faces. He remembered the spark of the creator that lived within their eyes. Nothing was ever truly gone once willed into existence. He would see them again, be it this day or another. It was time to finish the rite.
“Cursed dragon! Weaver of lies!
We adjure you by the living One, by the true Sorra,
by the One seated on the Holy Mountain,
cease your deception and withdraw the poison offering not but eternal damnation.
Return to the abyss from whence you came!”
As Orren finished the words a blinding light shot forth from the pike. The weapon was a rod of pure flame and light. Orren felt the palms of his gloves begin to burn away and his skin began to char. He stood and hurled the pike at the great beast. The tip of the weapon struck the behemoth and a great explosion of light filled the entire cavern. In that subterranean hell Orren’s eyes filled with the white light of the throne made manifest before a blast of power knocked him from his feet and he saw no more.
One thought on “Trying to Write Part VII”