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The threads of time wind their stories about my outstretched hands. Thousands of lives unaware of my constant presence then gone. Never to be again. But the story I seek is not in these strands of distant memories and dreams. It is in my own mind.
Lightening flashed in the ever darkening skies as the woman made her way to the summit of the mountain. She sought the great cavern where the three oldest dragons in existence had assembled just for her. To perform a sacred ritual only the pure of heart could undergo. An old rite that had been outlawed ages ago because of the massive amounts of strength and will it took not to cry out and invoke the dragon’s wrath. It was hard not to scream.
She reached the inner sanctum of the caverns and stood before three giant dragons, each standing well over eighty feet. Their scales shimmered in the brilliant light being emanated from a pool in the center of the room. She bowed before these giants of old, who in turn acknowledged her presence. The one on the far left gestured to a stone altar she was to lie on. Katiana obeyed and settled herself as the three began their preparations.
The half –elf could feel the magicks swirling about the massive cavern. Her own soul melded with the power being channeled. She relaxed and awaited the beginning. One of the dragons came and stood before the half-elf. She looked up into its fathomless eyes and felt all her fear evaporate. She was ready. The dragon nodded, and with one swift movement laid open her chest.
She held back a scream and bit hard on her lip. Black blood welled out of the incision made by the behemoth. As she tried to control the spasms of pain that wracked her body another dragon approached her from the opposite side. The looked at each other and grasped the last bone on each side of her ribcage and wrenched upward. There was a loud snap as the bones broke loose from their mooring and blood gushed anew from her insides.
She arched her back in pain as the two carried their bloody cargo to the pool and dropped it in. Blood gushed over her contracting hands as she tried desperately not to cry out. Tears rushed down her contorted features as she writhed on the altar. She was dimly aware of a dim splash as her bones hit the water and the screeching hiss that they emitted.
The three behemoths joined massive clawed wingtips and began to rock back and forth and chant, invoking old magicks from the depths of time itself. Their voices reached a deep keen as they rocked and bursts of color began to spark upward from the pool. As they chanted their voices melded into one and it called upon power of earth and time to forge a blade. A blade of the soul. Such a weapon that it would grow with the being that possessed it and in a sense, live.
On the altar Katiana’s breathing became more and more labored as she fought to control it. Her eyes rolled madly in her head and fur began to sprout along her arms and face. She tore at it madly trying to keep her wolven instincts in line. The altar was slippery with her black blood that seeped from the massive wound in her abdomen and ran in river down the sides and onto the floor. Her vision began to grow cloudy, and her heart beat faster and faster. She slowly succumbed to the visions flooding her head.
The battle raged around her. Elf against werewolf, strider against ganrum. The ground was red with blood and the screams of the dying rent the air. Katiana’s ancient blade sang in the wind, its battle song strong in her veins. She gave blow for blow and blood for blood as her features flickered from elven to werewolf. She was swept up in the battle fury, her eyes seeing through a red haze of blood. Her motions all done in the blink of an eye. She could no longer hear the screams. Thrust. Lunge. Parry. Repost. All done at lightening speed, seemingly in slow motion to her. The song of battle sang in her veins and she yelled aloud in warriors’ ecstasy. The fighting moved into close quarters and her back touched that of another. She spun and thrusted narrowly avoiding the blade which drew a long furrow in her cheek. Bone crunched and shattered as her blade slid into his ribcage. His eyes widened in shock and he slumped to the ground, sliding off her bloody blade. “Kati,” he gasped as he sank down on his knees. She blinked. The haze of battle suddenly lifted and she could see.
“Oh gods, what have I done,” she whispered sinking to the ground to catch him. “Nahki. Nahki, I’m so sorry,” she wept holding the form of her lover to her breast. He stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He looked up at her.
“Not…….your…….fault…….my….Kat,” he said as he reached up to brush away the blood and tears that stained her face. Suddenly his features contorted in pain and he spasmed in her arms. “Remember me,” he gasped as the pain drained from his face and he lay still in her arms. She held her love close and kissed his brow, tears pouring from her eyes.
“Always,” she murmured laying him on the ground. “Always.” Katiana sat there for a moment, stunned. Then a howl of immeasurable grief and anguish ripped from her soul and she threw herself into the fray.
Unaware of her state the dragons kept up their dirge, keening into the storm which now made the whole mountain shake.
The vision ended Katiana lay on the altar, alive yet her heart no longer beat. Yet still she breathed. Her chest was still torn open. Unconcerned with any of it she slowly stood and approached the dragons. They took no notice of her. She walked, slowly and brokenly to the steaming cauldron. She slipped through the opening the dragons allowed her small frame. Not thinking she thrust her arm into the searing liquid.
Her senses screamed as it hit her flesh. The skin melted off the bone yet still she held firm. Then her hand touched what she sought. Slowly and surely she drew a blade from the brew.
As she held it in her hand the wound on her abdomen closed leaving a pearly scar behind. The skin on her arm regrew and turned a slight silver color. The long scratches in her arms closed and left no scars. She held the blade up the light coming from a hole in the ceiling. The storm had broken and in it’s midst brought a beautiful sunrise.
The light glittered off the stunning weapon. It was as long as her arm and perfectly balanced to her hand as she twirled it through the air. Colors raced across the blade as it danced in her hands. The hilt was silver inlaid with mother of pearl and the pommel stone was a deep blue sapphire green. The cross hilt was adorned with Celtic knot work and a pack of wolves ran their way down the blade.
She was so absorbed in the blade that she almost didn’t notice the biggest dragon attempting to get her attention until she was almost sent sprawling by a hefty cuff from its paw. She looked up at it and it handed her a black leather sheath. A small silver dragon with blue gemstone eyes wound about the sheath. She bowed as she accepted the gift and strapped it to her belt and thrust the sword into it. She donned her cloak and was about to leave when a grumble from one of the dragons caught her attention.
She turned to face them. They regarded her with jeweled eyes. “Know this. Only by that blade can you possibly die. And even then, not until it lets you,” rumbled the giant red dragon as it shuffled off into the depths of the cave. She nodded, confused by this information and turned to leave.
The small black dragon sat on the ledge and watched the girl make her way down the mountainside. Her scales shone in the afternoon light. She sighed softly to herself. “Child of heaven and hell. May the two rest your soul, for there are many horrors in store for you youngling.”
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