Pool of Rainbows
The trees of the forest dance and sway slowly to the rhythm of
the wind, creating an eerie counterpoint to the sounds of the night animals. The
ghostly pale light of the full moon, shines down upon the waters of a pool at
the center of a clearing. The peace of the night is shattered suddenly by a
flash of light, and an unearthly scream just beyond the wood line.
A man
staggers into the clearing, leaning heavily on a staff as gnarled and ancient as
it’s bearer. He limps toward the pool, the feeble light revealing assorted tares
and streaks of blood in his gray robes. His bare feet leave a dark trail on the
grass behind him, as blood flows freely from numerous scratches in his wizened
flesh. In spite of his obvious pain and discomfort he continues to take one step
after another.
A humanoid figure seemingly garbed in shadows steps into the
clearing, in the place the old man stood but moments before. It halts and
crosses it’s arms as it looks upon the fleeing old man. "It would have been so
much easier on you, had you just given me the gods bedamned thing." His voice
drips with contempt. "You refuse to yield, as if you have any chance of keeping
me from what I want. Are you really as stupid as your are pathetic?" The old man
turns around slowly, his back stiffening with resolve.
He looks at the dark
figure, "There was once a time," He pauses, shaking his head slowly from side to
side, " When I would gladly have given you all that I have, and more." A single
tear, encouraged by emotional pain that far exceeds his fleshly problems, makes
it’s way down his age worn face to his silvered beard. His eyebrows lower like
storm clouds, as his anger rises. "But that time is long past. The atrocities
that you have committed in greed, in lust, in emotions that no man should
desire, are uncountable and unacceptable."
The shadow clad figure lifts it’s
dark gloved hands in a gesture of mock surrender, "Please don’t give me that
speech again father." He pulls his cowl back to reveal a gaunt, pale face. His
moon lit features are skeletal, and the red luminescence that periodically
eclipses his dark eyes adds, a decidedly demonic cast to his mischievous smile.
"So I’ve made mistakes, can’t we kiss and make up?" He laughs, "What you want me
to say? I’m sorry father. I will no longer murder, nor practice necromancy, nor
consort with demons." He smiles wickedly revealing small fangs.
"Don’t call
me that!" The old man growls in outrage. "My son died the night that I witnessed
you swearing foul oaths to even fouler powers, in my sanctuary! Kellyn could
never have done such a thing. You are an abyssal spawn in the guise of my son."
Having said that, the old man calmly lifts his staff skyward, and begins to
chant in a language older than the rock upon which he stands. The air begins to
ripple around him in response to the ancient words, as the night adopts a more
than real quality. The colors become more intense, and the surrounding forest
seems to hold it’s breath.
Kellyn points towards the neighboring shadows and
beckons. "Didn’t we just play out this tired scene? We both know how this story
must inevitably end, why torture yourself?" Two pony sized shadows soundlessly
detach themselves from the forest’s edge. They begin to advance on the old man.
Their eyes resemble nothing more than guttering cinders encased in shadow. Their
claws are like blades of unsmelted iron, and pitted steaming holes form in their
wake. Noxious fumes and ichor escape from their mouths, as they reveal jagged
fangs as long as a man’s hand. " I will ask you a final time, in memory of the
child I once was."
"In memory of the child that you never loved, nor
appreciated than your art. Where is the Disc? Keep in mind that the dead are not
beyond my authority. I will gain the knowledge from you now," His eyes flash and
the darkness coils and thickens around him, "or I will get the information from
what remains of your carcass. Death at my hands will be a blessing compared to
what my pets will do to you, they feed on suffering and misery."
The old
man’s voice reaches a crescendo as he slams the butt of his staff into the moist
earth. His bloody foot prints ignite suddenly, sending blue white fire racing
along his path. The dark robed figure realizes his danger too late, as he and
his shadowy companions are bathed in the eldrich glow. The beasts scream with
the voices of children as they collapse, their bodies twitching and convulsing.
Their dark master grimaces and steps out of the flames, wisps of smoke rising
from his clothing as small bits of ash sift onto the ground.
"You surprise me
old man, that almost hurt." He smiles sadistically as his eyes burn ever
brighter, "But a flame is still a flame, and I’ve bathed in ones more fierce. As
you should know by now, anything that you can do, I can do better." He begins to
chant as he points towards the still burning columns of fire, his words evoking
images of slithering things, death, and decay. One by one the flames darken to a
midnight streaked with vanes of bright crimson. The shadows dance and twist
about him as if they possess a will and hunger of their own.
The old man
lowers his head, chanting softly under his breath. As the flames draw nearer,
the color, the life; fades from his staff, his clothing, and then his skin
itself. Intent upon his own spell, Kellyn does not notice as like paint, a
shimmering rainbow hued mist drifts away from the old man and settles upon the
waters of the pool. A chime sounds softly as the last of the mist leaves his
body, which begins to vibrate as if struck by a tuning fork.
Kellyn lifts his
hands high and makes a strange gesture in his father’s direction, as the flames
reach him. A clap of thunder and flash of ephemeral light flares and removes the
scene from sight, as the old man’s body seemingly explodes outward. When the
smoke clears nothing moves and nothing remains, of the old man, his foul son, or
his nightmarish companions. The only proof of the confrontation lies in the
small amount of light, reflecting from the glassy surface of the ancient mage’s
foot prints.
The wind wails mournfully through the trees as somewhere near
bye, an owl announces it’s presence. As if on cue, the animals of the night
renew their songs. Slowly, rainbow hued waves of light begin to stir within the
pool. A vaguely human shape seems to ripple just beneath the surface of the
water. An aged face forms at the center of the pool, buyoued by the luminous
waves, and speaks in a musical voice bells and chimes.
and a child of dawn,
and a child that isn’t
so,
shall meet…
Then the child of loss,
and the child of brawn,
and
the children of twilight's show,
complete…
Thus the guardian of
knowledge,
and guardian of wisdom,
and the guardian of power’s
flow,
grow meek…
To save one life,
and take one life,
and let
another grow,
to peak…
And the shadows will rise,
and gods shall
fall,
if the children do not know,
to seek…
The water slowly settles, though still emitting a pale
rainbow hued glow. The night resumes it's rhythm.
main page
prose?
poetry?