04-16-2022, 01:06 AM
The spear clattered aside, swatted by Aiden’s swing. Then the man somehow expanded. Jaxen’s slack jaw was genuine, even as his neck craned backward. It wasn’t an illusion. Not the kind of warping that Jaxen might have sewn. Light burst forth from the enormous body. Had Had Aiden truly grown in stature or had Jaxen shrunk to the size of a worm? It was probably the concussion, but Jaxen quivered despite himself. He hid his eyes beneath the shelter of his arm and screamed in pain. Or maybe defiance. The chanting of the snake-song rung in his ears and Aiden’s proclamation pounded his already hurt head. The voices curled like slithering tongues into his brain. Their hissing snapped upon something old and vulnerable. He wanted shout, but he found himself squeezing the sides of his head like a vice as if it might withstand the pressure of those taunting sounds. He was beaten body and spirit, and worse, he just wanted it over. He wanted to yield. I yield! I yield! he said to himself, then, shaking, looked up to find the extended hand of his enemy offering peace.
“I’m sorry I got carried away,”
Aiden was his normal self again. The blinding light had fallen. His eyes darted around the body of the winner, wide and suspicious of those behind. The motion of grabbing Aiden’s hand dislodged more scales of the illusionary armor, until he had the wherewithal enough to recall the flow and send it to the abyss. They faded and Jaxen was likewise himself, albeit paler and much more disheveled than his usual devilish self.
The two combatants were frozen by the proclamation that followed. He didn’t understand many of the words and names, but the title of king was clear. It viced his heart all the more bitter as his gaze took in Aiden’s profile.
He followed Aiden to the hole that opened, wondering if this would be the pit into which he was tossed, locked, and abandoned. But instead, a glimmer and power wafted like a scent he could taste.
Aiden snatched a weapon a hundred times more grand than the spears they previously wielded. But it was something a thousand times more beautiful that Jaxen’s frozen gaze devoured. Aiden was understandably entranced by the spear. The snakes held their place and the raucous of before was disturbingly gone. He licked his lips and wondered if they would charge him if he lunged for the sword. Better to react second than think first, he realized, and quickly scrambled for the hilt before anyone realized that he was taking it.
The moment he grabbed the hilt, strange words twisted on the mind that he could not decipher. The images of gnashing teeth, snarling saliva and moribund wounds filled his mouth with the taste of bloody violence. If he was connected to this sword, it was distant as a witness to its legendary power like a father connected to the deeds of a son. It radiated power in a way that made the narwhal tusk confiscated from his apartment like a child’s toy.
He looked at Aiden with a sense of awe. Whatever truce settled between them seemed to return to their default state like the bloodlust of before had been a passing anomaly. Finally, it was the serpentine form of a feminine Naga that approached. Jaxen protected his prize as Ethelinda came forth, but rather than abduct the relic, she shook out the hoods of her head and a portal appeared.
“I’m sorry I got carried away,”
Aiden was his normal self again. The blinding light had fallen. His eyes darted around the body of the winner, wide and suspicious of those behind. The motion of grabbing Aiden’s hand dislodged more scales of the illusionary armor, until he had the wherewithal enough to recall the flow and send it to the abyss. They faded and Jaxen was likewise himself, albeit paler and much more disheveled than his usual devilish self.
The two combatants were frozen by the proclamation that followed. He didn’t understand many of the words and names, but the title of king was clear. It viced his heart all the more bitter as his gaze took in Aiden’s profile.
He followed Aiden to the hole that opened, wondering if this would be the pit into which he was tossed, locked, and abandoned. But instead, a glimmer and power wafted like a scent he could taste.
Aiden snatched a weapon a hundred times more grand than the spears they previously wielded. But it was something a thousand times more beautiful that Jaxen’s frozen gaze devoured. Aiden was understandably entranced by the spear. The snakes held their place and the raucous of before was disturbingly gone. He licked his lips and wondered if they would charge him if he lunged for the sword. Better to react second than think first, he realized, and quickly scrambled for the hilt before anyone realized that he was taking it.
The moment he grabbed the hilt, strange words twisted on the mind that he could not decipher. The images of gnashing teeth, snarling saliva and moribund wounds filled his mouth with the taste of bloody violence. If he was connected to this sword, it was distant as a witness to its legendary power like a father connected to the deeds of a son. It radiated power in a way that made the narwhal tusk confiscated from his apartment like a child’s toy.
He looked at Aiden with a sense of awe. Whatever truce settled between them seemed to return to their default state like the bloodlust of before had been a passing anomaly. Finally, it was the serpentine form of a feminine Naga that approached. Jaxen protected his prize as Ethelinda came forth, but rather than abduct the relic, she shook out the hoods of her head and a portal appeared.