The Serpent and the Dragon [Original Short Story]
Notes: Based on a prompt that cynoyonrae gave me on the "You Should Write" meme - the interactions between two or more elements personified, I think it was!
As I said before, I decided to write a kind of "fake legend" so hopefully that went well.
I can't be bothered trying to wrangle with lj enough use indents for each paragraph, so there's a line of space between them instead.
Warnings: Nothing, really, but the prose is somewhat purply at times, to be sure, and the tenses get a tiny bit loose at times. Also there may be some apostrophe abuse, as I have not proof read it properly.
Words: 798
Once, back when the earth was young and the sea also, when the forests were wild and man was barely a thought in the minds of the gods, the great serpents of those two domains acted out a time-hallowed ritual each millennium. That millennial task was a great clash between them, determining whether land or water would be the principle power over the coming epoch.
One such fateful year, the terrible dragon-serpent who slept in the raging flames of the tallest fire-mountain roused itself and, flexing its claws, surveyed the land below. With a mighty snap of its jaws, the great dragon made its way through the dark deep forests, though its girth was mighty enough that it seemed instead to walk through short grasses, the very ground shook where it tread, and the embers from the beast's wings caused untamable blazes throughout the wood. (Though truly, there was not a soul around back then to attempt to tame the fires, nor to lament the burning of the trees themselves.)
Wondrous to relay, the quaking of the earth caused by the dragon's steps was of a great enough magnitude that the tremors reached even into the shadowy ancient caverns of the deep oceans. These were the sea-caves where the sea-dragon, victor of the last great battle, slumbered content in its mastery over the waters. Now one colossal eye opens, focuses, then the other, as the miles-long coils of the scaly beast slowly unfurl from their place of rest. The serpent swims with a sinuous beauty unusual for its vastness, undulating movements propelling it through the mighty oceans with a quickness even the fastest hawk would envy.
The battleground to which the adversaries speed is, as most other long-abandoned battlefields, most unremarkable. A calm sand-beach it is, with gulls circling overhead - but the deep grooves in the surface, scoured out by tails and claws, unerasable even by the dunes, are testament to former use, and a promise of further.
This, then, is the stage that both dread beasts finally reach, slavering in anticipation. Each, upon sighting their mortal enemy, lets out a roar that would have frozen the heart of the stoutest man with sheer terror, had he been there to hear it. Their ritual challenge issued, they prepare for a battle of utmost seriousness.
The crimson fire-serpent, crest erect and ivory teeth bared, hisses forward with a vigour born of fury, claws seeking to dent the azure hide of its combatant. However, the sea dragon slithers away, with a speed more deadly than that of a cobra, unwilling to concede the first hit. Venomous fangs find their mark in the membrane of a ruby wing, now stained a deeper shade by the bloody ichor spreading from the wound.
The wounded one now grips the neck of the other, taloned feet squeezing life from snapping jaws, only to find their vitality in turn being sapped, as the sea serpent's lithe tail wraps around the red-dragon's chest. (They say, of course, that the deadliest arts of our living snakes were employed first in these battles, then imitated by reptiles unlucky enough to lose their limbs in offending some god or another. Strangulation is one of the foremost and most potent.)
Choking out a fireball, the flame dragon scorches into the hide of its opponent, seeking frantically for those vulnerable scales which lie over the pounding war-drum of the sea beast's heart. It makes no pause on identifying the place, crunching down with strength enough to shatter those bony plates of protection. Steaming blood spews forth, a red tide discolouring the sand.
The serpent in turn screams out the agony of its wounds with paralyzing intensity. Its ponderous thoughts fix upon a goal of pride - destroying and devouring the other, establishing at last the sea's supremacy. Its head whips toward the neck of the other. Hissing poison, it bites down with a viciousness to match the dragon's own, serrated teeth slipping noiselessly into soft flesh.
They held that pose, intertwined with hatred, two great warriors struggling to end each others' life with their natural weapons, until even the unmoving deities of that place could endure no longer. A silent chill stole over the very limbs of the lords of the sea and the land, stiffening their sinews and bones with a speed that defied resistance. Finally, only their slitted eyes remained as they had been, until those too grew grey and lifeless. The sound of wheeling gulls began to return, accompanying the quiet susurrus of the waves.
That shore today still holds the great granite bones of the serpent and the dragon, frozen in stone where they grappled as the gods decided the shape of the waters, and that of the earth, could benefit no longer from their violent intimacies.
As I said before, I decided to write a kind of "fake legend" so hopefully that went well.
I can't be bothered trying to wrangle with lj enough use indents for each paragraph, so there's a line of space between them instead.
Warnings: Nothing, really, but the prose is somewhat purply at times, to be sure, and the tenses get a tiny bit loose at times. Also there may be some apostrophe abuse, as I have not proof read it properly.
Words: 798
Once, back when the earth was young and the sea also, when the forests were wild and man was barely a thought in the minds of the gods, the great serpents of those two domains acted out a time-hallowed ritual each millennium. That millennial task was a great clash between them, determining whether land or water would be the principle power over the coming epoch.
One such fateful year, the terrible dragon-serpent who slept in the raging flames of the tallest fire-mountain roused itself and, flexing its claws, surveyed the land below. With a mighty snap of its jaws, the great dragon made its way through the dark deep forests, though its girth was mighty enough that it seemed instead to walk through short grasses, the very ground shook where it tread, and the embers from the beast's wings caused untamable blazes throughout the wood. (Though truly, there was not a soul around back then to attempt to tame the fires, nor to lament the burning of the trees themselves.)
Wondrous to relay, the quaking of the earth caused by the dragon's steps was of a great enough magnitude that the tremors reached even into the shadowy ancient caverns of the deep oceans. These were the sea-caves where the sea-dragon, victor of the last great battle, slumbered content in its mastery over the waters. Now one colossal eye opens, focuses, then the other, as the miles-long coils of the scaly beast slowly unfurl from their place of rest. The serpent swims with a sinuous beauty unusual for its vastness, undulating movements propelling it through the mighty oceans with a quickness even the fastest hawk would envy.
The battleground to which the adversaries speed is, as most other long-abandoned battlefields, most unremarkable. A calm sand-beach it is, with gulls circling overhead - but the deep grooves in the surface, scoured out by tails and claws, unerasable even by the dunes, are testament to former use, and a promise of further.
This, then, is the stage that both dread beasts finally reach, slavering in anticipation. Each, upon sighting their mortal enemy, lets out a roar that would have frozen the heart of the stoutest man with sheer terror, had he been there to hear it. Their ritual challenge issued, they prepare for a battle of utmost seriousness.
The crimson fire-serpent, crest erect and ivory teeth bared, hisses forward with a vigour born of fury, claws seeking to dent the azure hide of its combatant. However, the sea dragon slithers away, with a speed more deadly than that of a cobra, unwilling to concede the first hit. Venomous fangs find their mark in the membrane of a ruby wing, now stained a deeper shade by the bloody ichor spreading from the wound.
The wounded one now grips the neck of the other, taloned feet squeezing life from snapping jaws, only to find their vitality in turn being sapped, as the sea serpent's lithe tail wraps around the red-dragon's chest. (They say, of course, that the deadliest arts of our living snakes were employed first in these battles, then imitated by reptiles unlucky enough to lose their limbs in offending some god or another. Strangulation is one of the foremost and most potent.)
Choking out a fireball, the flame dragon scorches into the hide of its opponent, seeking frantically for those vulnerable scales which lie over the pounding war-drum of the sea beast's heart. It makes no pause on identifying the place, crunching down with strength enough to shatter those bony plates of protection. Steaming blood spews forth, a red tide discolouring the sand.
The serpent in turn screams out the agony of its wounds with paralyzing intensity. Its ponderous thoughts fix upon a goal of pride - destroying and devouring the other, establishing at last the sea's supremacy. Its head whips toward the neck of the other. Hissing poison, it bites down with a viciousness to match the dragon's own, serrated teeth slipping noiselessly into soft flesh.
They held that pose, intertwined with hatred, two great warriors struggling to end each others' life with their natural weapons, until even the unmoving deities of that place could endure no longer. A silent chill stole over the very limbs of the lords of the sea and the land, stiffening their sinews and bones with a speed that defied resistance. Finally, only their slitted eyes remained as they had been, until those too grew grey and lifeless. The sound of wheeling gulls began to return, accompanying the quiet susurrus of the waves.
That shore today still holds the great granite bones of the serpent and the dragon, frozen in stone where they grappled as the gods decided the shape of the waters, and that of the earth, could benefit no longer from their violent intimacies.