|
"And this also," said Marlow suddenly, "has been one of the dark places of the earth."
- Joseph Conrad, "Heart of Darkness"
Scar moved quickly through the weeds, a short, broad man with old eyes and lithe steps. The wind whispered sweet nothings through the streets and he froze, looking slowly around him as he drew out an old sword which reflected the light strangely. The hiss of steel from sheathe echoed through the empty square and the wind seemed to become still.
The city was empty around Scar, the false emptiness of ruins looking like old monolikthic giants filled with rock and fallen buildings of sword melted steel, broken by time and weapons from the long ago. The ground was harder than earth but weed filled and vines grew up everywhere as nature slowly claimed the land, even here. The square he stood in was empty even of ghosts and he shivered slightly beneath the sunlight that seemed dimmer than it had a moment ago. Scar knew he was being watched. He couldn’t see them, but they were there.
In the centre of the ruins stood an old, white block of rock ringed in a moat of water and more rock. It was untouched by the vines. Taking a deep breath, Scar approached it and pulled the small blue square he had been given by his employer out of a pocket. He looks at it for a long moment, marvelling at its resiliency against breaking, then threw it into the water with a decisive toss, saying the word of power he had been taught clumsily: “Visa.”
The small square hit the water with a soft splash and sank. From the top of the block, a hiss of water sprayed upwards and Scar leapt back, amber eyes wide and snarled a vicious curse as a rumble echoed beneath the streets. He blinked and slowly relaxed. Nothing. Safety. False safety, he ammended quickly.
With a sigh he turned away from the strange water and rock, sheathing the sword and drawing the old gun he’d found in the ruins. It was done. If the wish magic could work, it would. Now all he had to do was make it out in one piece. Even his kind had died in the cities. Firing a quick shot into the air to alert Ali - assuming she was still alive - Scar dropped the gun and ran for the edge of the square even as he thought he saw forms in buildings following him with their eyes.
Within moments, a grey wolf was running through alleys and over ruins for an old gate at an incredible speed, as if running for his life. As the sun beings to set, a feeling of power enters the air, stronger than before. The wolf whines and runs faster, almost reaching the corner before a flash of light strikes, sending an explosion of pain through his leg. Even immortals can die.
With a Howl of warning and fear, the wolf moved around the corner. The wound wasn’t healing fast enough. Another flash of light exploded across the night, but further away. The wolf licked the wound and waited nervously as the wound healed, far too slowly for his liking, then moved for the gate again. His shadow remained behind, and he turned slowly then growled deeply. The wall moved and shifted, freeing his spirit reluctantly and the wolf continued onward, hoping for freedom.
When the light came again it was almost peaceful, a bright flash flooding his senses as science-bound magic engulfed him. Even his senses barely caught the smell of burning fur and flesh before he sank into a deep sleep.
Tread softly, for this is holy ground. It may be, could we look with knowing eyes, this spot we stand on is Paradise.
- Christina Rossetti
| Main |