Friday Flash: The Trap

Only two more to go after this, then I can rest. Continuation to The Dragon Dance.

The cold wind of early spring cut into the bare skin of Jark’s hands and face, but failed to reach his mind. He’d warned Nuria not to get attached to shapeshifter found half dead in the Ice Barrens, he’d warned her again. Other’s had been found and rescued from a cold death, but they had repaid by attacking the humans who came to trade, some even attacked other shapeshifters.

Once Fain found out that he was one of the shapeshifters stolen as a child he would hate all humans. Nuria was part human. Even if he didn’t harm her, he would have to be exiled. The village depended on trade with the humans who didn’t view them as monsters. It would be better for everyone if they were rid of him.

Jark’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted when another shapeshifter ran into him. He regained balance swiftly, while the person who had run into him lay on his back. Jark was about to offer his hand to the fellow when he recognized the face. Fain.

A child appeared, touched Fain’s forehead and shouted gleefully: “Tag, you’re the hunter now!”

”I’ll get you in a moment!” he shouted. Getting up, he brushed a bit of dust off himself. ”Sorry Jark, I wasn’t paying attention. Nell was about to catch me.”

“She and the other children will miss you.” No one had had the heart to tell Fain his village had been destroyed, the fool still planned on returning to his tribe. “You will guard the reds for one more summer?”

“Yes, but we’ll return. I want everyone to meet our children someday.”

“Yes, children…” Gods, children by an abomination who guarded the evil dragons. He had to get rid of him quickly. “Once home you’re going to guard the black dragons.”

“Oh yes, I’ve seen them up close when I was young. They are so beautiful, powerful and…”

“Evil.”

Fain hid his clawed hands behind his back, but he couldn’t hide the change in his light brown eyes; they had turned a deep grey. Just as Jark had hoped, he was upset. All shapeshifters who guarded dragons were proud of theirs. “Just because a few maim and kill for their delight-”

“Do you hear yourself? You’re part black dragon, aren’t you?” He pushed Fain’s long hair off the nape of his neck to reveal black scales.

A low growl emitted from Fains throat; it ceased for a moment as he spoke. “Speak another word and I will tear your throat.”

“They should be hunted down, all of them.”

White, leathery wings grew out of Fain’s back as he fell onto his hands and knees. Bits of fabric fell to the ground as his human form was replaced by something much bigger, a fool’s dragon. He charged without warning, his dragon-like head ramming into Jark. Fain missed the smile on his face; he had ran into a trap.

Claws dug into the fool’s dragon’s long neck, the sudden weight pulling him to the ground. Jark’s polar bear form was strong, but fool’s dragons were stronger. Fain stood up, the white bear hanging on; swinging his neck sideways he managed to lose the bear.

Jark landed on his side, quickly rising to his feet. Black lips curled into a mocking smile. He waited until Fain rammed into him again. This time he slapped Fain’s head with a giant paw, then pinned his head to the ground.

He whispered into the fool’s dragon’s ear: “Your mother was a spawn of evil and you’re only slightly better.”

Fain’s eye flicked towards him, the grey iris lost in a sea of white. Roaring Fain flung his head upwards, sending Jark stumbling backwards into one of the houses. He drew a deep breath, but his senses still got the better of him. Though the buildings were enchanted against fire, you still did not breathe flames in a village of wooden buildings.

A crowd had begun to gather. The children who had played earlier now peeked from amidst their parents. Ignoring them, Fain spread his white wings, rose onto his hoofed hind legs and shook his brown mane. He trumpeted a loud battle cry and lunged forwards, sharp white fangs glistening with saliva against a backdrop of red. His teeth were about to sink into the bear’s neck when he heard an angry voice shout, “Fain, stop this instant!”

Fain’s ears flicked back and forth as he considered the order. Reluctantly he let go of the insolent shapeshifter in bear form.

“Change!” Nuria’s hands were balled into fists, her eyes shone a bright scarlet. “I will not talk to you while you’re in battle-form.”

“But I will be indecent in human form.” He lay down in front of his partner, a sign of submission with most creatures.

“Just change into something else you rarfnigan!” She grabbed him by the mane and lifted his face to hers. “Now!”

Fain shrunk into the form of a white lap dog. His big brown puppy eyes were enough to douse Nuria’s anger.

“What happened?” Her anger had found a new target. Jark lifted his great white head and growled.

“He attacked me, unprovoked.”

From the midst of the crowd a pink wolf snorted. “We all know Jark’s a troublemaker.”

“He did something to make Fain go mad!” Nell shouted, stomping with each word.

“I merely said that the evil dragons should be dealt with.” Jark cast a fearful glance at the small bundle of fluff that Fain was now. “He changed into the form you saw, a fool’s dragon. Only a drake and a dragon are stronger. He was going to kill me.”

“He insulted the good blacks!” Fain barked. Nuria picked him up into her arms, stroking his back gently.

“No matter what, you never attack another shapeshifter.” A tear rolled down her dark cheek. ”The village elders will decide if your temper is a threat.”

She carried him home and picked out new clothes for him. He dressed in silence, shoulders slumped, his eyes still grey from sadness and shame.

DiceGames: Vixi's Promise

This is my second entry to Lady Antimony's DiceGames challenge. You throw a dice and look up the corresponding prompt from Lady Antimony's list. For this week, I rolled number one: “Sometimes it's easier just to let them die...”

P.S. Number 17 is an unlucky number in Italy because XVII can be rearranged to "VIXI", which means “I have lived” (implying “I am dead”) in Latin. That's where Vixi's name comes from.

“The deity promised me power.” The mage’s voice was taut with apprehension. “He spoke nothing of skeletal demons.”

Lheyr stared from somewhere beyond the empty eye sockets. The demon cocked his horned head a little; humans were so impatient, especially the ones who already had power. “Think of me as your guide through this process.”

“Process?” The mage’s fingers curled into fists, knuckles whitening. “Speaking to your god was hard enough. I prayed in his temple every day for 17 years before he answered. What more is there?”

“You need to tap into demonic magic.” A bony hand lifted as the demon touched its rib, just where the heart would have been. “Vixi is the god of death, but he is also the lord of demons. Our power is his power.”

The mage fell silent, his face obscured by the shadow of his hood. Yet Lheyr could sense apprehension and fear. Ribs expanded as the demon drew air, a memory of the time it had been human. Like the mage, Lheyr had prayed to Vixi for power and received it. The difference between him and the lesser demons was that he knew how to use that power.

Yes, he wielded power ruthlessly; even the other skeletal demons cringed at his actions.

He waited for the mage to seek out demonic magic. Like the elements, it was there, you just needed to take hold of it. But unlike the elements you could cast any kind of spell with it. The only downside was that you turned into a demon in the end, but it was downside only to those afraid.

“Use it, feel the magic taint your soul,” he whispered.

Lheyr watched the mage flinch as he felt the touch of evil magic, but he continued on; twin flames erupted from his palms, spreading darkness instead of light.

“More,” the demon spoke softly.

The flames grew, their darkness enveloped the mage, but Lheyr could still see him. Arms held out, head tilted slightly back, they were always dramatic.

The flames flickered.

“When—?“

“When I say you’re done. More power.” Lheyr began calling his own magic, drawing deep from the murky core of his being. Users of demonic magic didn’t turn into demons suddenly, there were stages. First you had nightmares; eventually the horrors of the demonic world would become reality. The last stage before the change was the most frightful; demons could see the unwary user of their magic and begin dragging him or her into the demonic world.

The mage flinched as another skeletal demon touched his arm with a clawed finger. Perhaps this one would cross of his own free will.

But the flames died abruptly.

“This is not what I asked for! I will not become a demon for the sake of power!”

Lheyr stood still, hollow eye sockets staring at the outraged mage. Everyone knew Vixi’s promises came at a price, but how high, they couldn’t possibly foresee.

“The pact must be honoured.” Lheyr’s arms lifted, fingers reaching towards the mage, then twisting back as he stole away the hapless man’s life force.

“Fight me! Turn into a demon or die!” Lheyr’s bony jaws twisted into a smile. “Either way the master shall have you!”

“I will not become like you.” The mage called on his own magic, fire sparked between his hands growing into a ball of flames. Lheyr scoffed at the feeble display of power. Why did they always choose a flashy spell? All pomp and no power got you killed when facing a demon.

“The strongest demons are second only to the gods themselves. You want power, become one of us!”

The mage threw the flame, striking Lheyr in the face, but the demon continued on, ignoring the soot on its skull. It continued on sapping the life from the mage, bit by bit, and scattered it to the four winds. A demon did not require life force, it fed on pain and despair.

One final time he repeated the offer, “Join us.”

“No.” The mage whispered. He crumpled down into an unmoving heap. Lheyr nudged the corpse with a clawed toe. No reaction. Another skeletal demon, this one resembling a snake with bony arms and an oxen head, stared at him.

“Son, tell the missus that we don’t need prey. Another one died.” The demon crossed his arms. “I looked forward to teaching possession to a new demon.”

Lheyr would stand vigil until his god raised the mage from the dead. Vixi would have a new servant and the mage would have power, the pact would be honoured, though not as the mage had intended. Lheyr sighed and shook his head; sometimes it was just easier to let them die.

Friday Flash: The Dragon Dance

Again, a follow up to my previous friday flash, Light and Dark. Bear with me, there's only three of these left.

Nuria stepped lightly on to the red circle, marking the centre of the Ruby Scales village. The circle was formed of red rocks of varying shades. She lifted her arms up, letting the watchers take in her ceremonial dress; red silks caressed the earth, a belt of red scales adorning her hips. The top half was made of dragon scales as well, sown into the form of a dragon spreading its wings, neck rising towards her face.In the south women danced and afterwards their husbands danced for them, though in a different manner.

But she was in the North; she danced for the dragons, celebrating the pact between shapeshifters and the dragons. As the drumming began, she dropped the left side of her hip then the right, mimicking the lumbering walk of the dragon. Her arms and shoulders moved upwards, then downwards, fluid as a snake in the water. The rhythm of the drum sped up, she began to walk. She rose to the tips of her toes, arms reaching for the sky. As the drumming began to slow down, she spun round once and fell to the ground her back arched, arms folded against her sides.

Howling, roars and others sounds rose from the crowd of shapeshifters. Her smile was polite, until she spotted her partner Fain, sitting between another human and a bright yellow bear. Her eyes narrowed a little as her smile widened. He got up, ran into her arms and whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

“Meet me back home?” The crowd had begun to disperse; a pink wolf stalked past them, chuckling.

“I promised to watch Orri’s child.” Fain smiled; the eight-year-old Nell had taken instant liking to him. “He’s off courting Lizell.”

“Good, we aren’t meant to live alone.” She stroked his cheek gently, before walking past him towards their home. As she pushed the door open a hand descended on hers.

“Hello, Nuria.”

“Go away, Jark.” She stepped over the threshold, but he followed.

“I wonder how Fain the Faint bound the beauty to him?”

She turned to face him. His true form was a great, white bear, but now he was human. Handsome in someone else’s eyes, but to her he was a nuisance.

“I would rather question my right to bind his heart to mine. I will likely die decades before him, because of my human blood.” She sighed; shapeshifters were all a mix of species. The more shapeshifter was in you, the slower you aged. “I hope I have enough dragon or shapeshifter in me to live as long as he does.”

He dismissed her words. “I do not think he will stay sane enough to be in a relationship. I wonder what will happen when you tell him that his village was destroyed. He’d have been a child then, ripe for plucking from human point of view.” A shiver of disgust went through him. “Bloody humans. Your Fain somehow escaped the attack and wandered in the White for years. Or he was abducted by those from Mt.Noir, escaping when it was burned.”

“He’s strong enough to take the form of a fool’s dragon.” Her heart sunk. Fain, her partner, could not have been kidnapped as a child; he did not deserve such a past. “He could have survived…”

“Remember the one who also escaped? The poor thing would attack anyone who looked at him the wrong way. We had to send him into the Ice Barrens to die, poor thing.” His blue eyes glinted with malice. “I heard Fain hurt another trainee during battle practise. Arnie said something about black dragons being evil.”

“He just scratched Arnie’s arm, it healed quickly like all shapeshifters’ wounds. Do not hint that he would harm me. I love him for his kindness.” She smiled; when he wasn’t with her, he could be found playing with the children. “He’s good with the little ones, though he is horrible at the game they play, tag was it called?”

“He’s run into me twice.” Jark crossed his arms.

“He always runs into someone or something when one of the children chases him. Usually a wall.” She chuckled at the image. “I think he does it on purpose, to make the children laugh.”

“He may be kind and gentle now. Yet when he finds out what happened to his tribe?” He took a step towards her. She stood still, stopping any further advance with an icy glare.

“He will stay here with us. He is happy with me.” Hatred resonated in her voice and emanated from her face, yet he still persisted. “Go away. I heal wounds and am averse to inflicting them. But I make an exception with morons.”

“You just tease, beauty…”

She felt his hand on her wrist; quickly she slapped her hand over his, locking his hand in place. She lifted her arm over her head and spun round gracefully, in one fluid movement she brought her arm down and with it Jark who still gripped her wrist.

She stared at his eyes, dark red with anger. Hers had not changed. Control your emotions, use speed and grace. Anger and rash actions will lead to your defeat.

“My mother taught me how to bring an attacker to the ground. She also taught me how to rip off the sword arm. Do not trifle with me.”

Jark stared for a moment, the red slowly changing into a dark blue. He got up and smiled to her as if nothing had happened, then walked off.

Nuria shook her head; Jark would not give up so easily. Likely he would try to aggravate her Fain into a fight. Hopefully he would resist the urge to punch the moronic shapeshifter in the face.

The Daily Grain

This is my entry to the First Campaigner Challenge of the Writers’ Platform-Building Campaign.

The door swung open, in a blur of brown the virra bird flew through. It hid atop a decorative cabinet and listened.

“Root of the Healing Tree, amber, tooth from a black sea serpent and the book.” The bird could imagine the merchant rubbing his sweaty palms together, purring over the payment. “You’re all set for the summoning.”

“I won’t be doing the summoning.” Another voice, this one a woman’s, laughed. The virra peeked over the decoration, a glint caught its eye; a bloodstone set in a gold ring adorned the woman’s index finger. The bird followed the hand as it fell to the woman’s hip, fingers curling around a sheathed dagger. “I was sent at the Queen’s behest, a task of utmost importance.”

Quickly the virra scrambled backwards, shrinking into a tiny ball. It shrank further as the screams of the merchant sliced through the air. Silence fell; the bird stood still, time passed.

“Just another day’s work,” it heard the Queen’s assassin mumble as her footsteps receded.

The door swung shut, the virra waited for a moment. Then, spreading its wings, the bird flew out of a hole in the window, shouting:

“Knowledge for sale, knowledge for grain!”

DiceGames: The Ratter

This is my first entry to Lady Antimony's DiceGames challenge; there will be one for every monday of September. You throw a dice and look up the corresponding prompt from Lady Antimony's list. The rules are here. For this week, I rolled number one: "You've woken up to discover you're a rat - what's happening?"

His little heart flung itself against his ribs like a bird in a cage. Smells and sounds befuddled his senses, everything was happening too fast. He had to change back, but found he couldn’t.

“Allera! Why are you doing this to me? Let me change back!” He squeaked upwards, hoping the sorceress would answer his plea, but she only laughed.

“This is your punishment, fool!” Her cold, green eyes stared down from high up. “I saw what you did.”

“But—”

“I will let you change back once you’ve found the hairpin I lost in the vegetable garden.” Her perfect lips formed a circle as she spoke, “Go.”

What good is being a shapeshifter when your magic can be blocked by a sorceress? He shook his pointy head. He should have left the first time this happened.

The shapeshifter in rat form scuttled under the backdoor. He stood for a moment, sniffing the air for cats or the neighbour’s ratter. Birds he couldn’t smell, he would just have to spot the shadow of the predator before the claws caught him.

Fighting down the urge to grab and eat the beetle that skittered past, he scurried to the far end of the vegetable garden. It wasn’t huge, but he would do better to be meticulous in his search. One row at a time he searched for the elusive hairpin.

Why does she even have one? Her silken brown hair didn’t need any adornments.

The hairpin wasn’t in the field of peas or in the row of beef tomatoes. Desperately he climbed onto a cabbage. His little claws sunk into the tender plant as he balanced on his hind legs.

Swaying back and forth atop the mound of green he failed to notice the shadow passing over him. A shrill cry alerted him; quickly he pulled his claws free and jumped to the ground.

Oh no, not a…

In a flurry of brown the little bird landed in front of him. Before he could run and hide, squeaky words burst from the grey beak: “She cast you out again! The Sorceress cast you out again!”

“Shut up, virra.” The stubby front legs were just long enough to cover his ears.

“I have a name, you know.” The bird mercifully fell silent for a moment.

“Shut up!” he shouted; the bird had opened its beak to speak again. The ball of feathers looked insulted.

“No, it’s Yeolde, and I have what you seek.” The bird held up a spindly grey leg, revealing a decorative hairpin. The thin claws holding the pin spread, but hairpin did not fall. “It’s stuck until you remove it, but you have to be severely annoyed.”

Rats did not communicate with facial expressions, but somehow he managed to convey the emotion to the virra.

“I see you are in the correct frame of mind. Take the thing; I need to earn my daily grain.”

He cringed at his pink foreleg; this wasn’t his true form. He had to change back soon, or the need to chew something, anything, would become overwhelming.

How other beings survived living in one shape was beyond his understanding. Likely ignorance kept them placate, stupidity in some cases. Allera the Sorceress was different; she was a powerful earth mage. She could encase herself in the life essence of an animal, thus becoming it. Although her magic was different from shapeshifter magic, the end result was much the same.

It had been her magic and the way she wielded it that had drawn him to her. He had been her apprentice for years, fetching herbs from deepest woods, taking care of the garden, keeping the house clean, all just to be close to her.

He squeezed himself under the door, the accursed pin held firm in his grasp. She waited for him, arms crossed across her chest.

“Go look for my ring,” she spoke without looking at him.

“Yes, exalted sorceress.” He sighed; she didn’t care to hear her real or her pet names when she was angry.

“Watch out for the cat.”

“Yes… Wait, the cat?” He froze, this was going too far.

“The neighbour’s cat has been skulking around. I’ll deal with the feline if he becomes too interested in you.” Stifled anger was clear in the tone of her voice.

“I am not going through this again.” Something in his voice moved her. Slowly she lowered her gaze, her arms falling down into her lap. “What exactly did I do wrong?”

“I saw how you looked at that bitch.” She looked away; he followed her gaze to the window. Outside a pitch-black rat-dog was busy digging.

“I may be able to take the form of a dog, but I am not interested in them!” He felt repulsed at the thought; him, a noble shapeshifter, able to take form of a wolf, looking lustily at a dog? Ugh. “Even if I were, I have you. You’re beautiful and talented in magic. I couldn’t believe my luck when you asked me ‘how do shapeshifters court?’”

He could feel the spell lifting from his shoulders. With joy he changed back into his true form, a human. He walked on two legs, he had hands again, and he could smile with his lips and kiss his lovely wife.

“You said the shapeshifters of the Southern Plains bring a piece of fresh meat to their loved one. But you didn’t live in the plains anymore.” She smiled, her eyes the colour of the forest lighting up. “Then you kissed me.”

Gently his arms slid around. Her cheek rested against his chest, so soft and warm. How she could have thought him stupid enough to look at another female, he could not understand.

“Don’t belittle yourself, dear wife,” he whispered into her ear. “The enchantment you cast has not faded.”

Friday Flash: Light and Dark

Another flash from Fain's life. This is a follow up to my previous friday flash, Alhena.

A rut was beginning to form on the soft summer ground as the shapeshifter in drake form stomped back and forth. The form was tough to achieve even with decades of practise; only a dragon form was stronger.

“I am Ragh, head of the Guardians of the Red Dragons,” the drake snorted, it’s threading slowly coming to a halt. “I’m the one responsible for whipping you weaklings into shape.”

Fain swallowed hard. This had been Alhena’s idea; he suspected the red dragon and his partner Nuria had plotted this together. It would keep him busy for two summers, but he would return home for the winters.

“You are not one of the Ruby Scales.” Ragh had stopped in front of him. Coal-black eyes stared at him from atop a blunt scaly snout. “Name and tribe?”

“I am Fain of the Leather Wing tribe. We guard the black dragons.” His fingers twitched as he fought the change. Whenever upset, his fingers would change into cold blue claws. In an animal form the change wouldn’t be formidable, but his ‘true form’ was human.

“Not the Shadows upon the Sun?” A black forked tongue slid from the maw, tasting the air for sings of lying. “Good. They should be hunted down for aiding the evil God in his war.”

Anger flared in Fain’s heart. He quenched it too late; Ragh had spotted the outrage on his face. A smooth, cold hand grabbed his hand and lifted the icy blue talons into view. Ragh studied the hand for a moment before speaking. “You feel strongly about the blacks. Most of them aren’t evil, I can give you that.”

He let Fain’s hand fall, looking into the young shapeshifter’s light brown eyes before continuing. “The children of dragons have four enemies: each other, giant ants, vampbirds and poachers, although you don’t see much of the latter nowadays. Some cruel single-form decided it’d be easier to capture our young and force them into the shape of dragon, and— Get up! You’ll face crueller things while protecting the dragons!” The old warrior grabbed a dark green panther by the scruff of the neck. He stared into the lidded eyes until they opened. “Are you cut out for this, boy?”

“Yes,” the panther spoke in a hiss. They stared at each other for a moment. Abruptly Ragh released his grip and the panther fell to the ground with a loud thud.

“Remember, when facing a human do not think of their wife and children.” A sharp talon drew a line across the dirty green throat. “Think of the dragons, or your kin if the lizards do not evoke loyalty. The dragons protect us during the Long Night. Without their aid, the creatures of the dark will slip into your homes, kill and eat your family. Some of them walk on two legs. Remember what they did to the—”

Ragh cast a look at Fain, shaking his head as he swallowed the words. Others were looking at him; pity mixed with apprehension. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ragh spoke first.

“Watch.” The arrow-shaped head came down to touch the scaly chest. Arms extended before him, two black claws reaching for each other until they touched. Power sparked in the air as the drake form shapeshifter drew the claws apart. Two shapes, one golden, the other black, formed in between. Wings grew from the backs, necks extended reaching for each other. Two legless dragons squirmed in the air for a moment before Ragh banished them.

“We shapeshifters cannot control the elements around us, our magic comes from the inside. But we can use the innate magic of the form we’ve taken: dragons can belch fire and sea serpents breathe water. We can also extend our magic outside of ourselves to create barriers and illusions. You are going to attempt the hardest illusion. It’s old Dragon Guard magic, used to scare off… pretty much anything.”

“Light and Dark?” The panther asked.

“Yes, you are going to create two dragons. Not real ones, were not reaching for divinity. Only illusions. But because of what we’re doing they’ll look and feel real. You are going to reach down inside of yourself and use what’s good, pure and such to create the dragon Light. Then comes the hard part: you have to fight down your revulsion and use the darker side of yourself to create Dark. Fain, you try first.”

Fain fell inside of himself with ease, he swam in the sweet memories of Nuria’s lips upon his, their first night together and her promise to be his.

From somewhere outside of himself he heard a faint raspy voice: “Remember the darkness.”

Regretfully he drew back. Elation still flowed through his veins; nothing was dark enough to drag him down. Without fear he plunged into the dark memories, thinking Nuria’s love could shield him from anything.

He was wrong.

Pain and fear struck him. There was a time when one always followed the other. He found a deep-rooted hatred for the humans who did this to him. He remembered demons, burning buildings and evil.

Opening his eyes for a second, he saw two dragons, both the size of a war steed standing before him. The other emanated a light from deep beneath its golden scales; a swanlike neck craned above, warm eyes stared down at him. Light. The dragon next to it seemed to suck any light into the blackness of its skin. It was the embodiment of all the pain he’d suppressed. Dark.

I want to forget! The loss of his memory had been a blessing. Something horrid had happened during those years he did not remember. I will forget!

“Are you alright?” A myriad of faces stared down at him, foremost Ragh’s ugly visage. His carrion breath made Fain choke on the words, but he managed to spit them out.

“I am not using that spell ever again!”

Yet he knew he might have to. At the end of training he would vow to die for the dragons. Facing a few suppressed memories should have been easy, but he would rather face death than the horrors he’d seen.