Post by Arrowbid on Aug 22, 2007 19:19:48 GMT -5
Foretelling Minds
The slowly fading crescent moon cast fierce shadows across the land and two figures rose up to block its light. Wynd’s figure blocked the moon and he arched his back and dove down from the skies ghostly light. Spikes of darkness billowed upon the sand as the dragons’ spine covered backs obscured the moons light. Wynd drifted solemnly, quickly followed by his elder brother. The two of them glided through the waning night and gazed about the distant earth.
In the past week they had left the sheltered forest and said their parting goodbyes to the old Drateco and Dr’rik. Since then they had been drifting endlessly over the great desert, not seeing much besides the cold Arabian nights and scorching days. Thus during their odyssey worthy trek they had remained absorbed in thought. Streke huffed in the cool desert air and looked about with an unnatural serenity, “Don’t be so quiet brother; we have nothing to fear here. We’re headed to meet the council, what could be more exciting than that? Many a young drakeling has wished to do the same”, he said with a friendly growl, and nodded his head, as if the statement had been directed more toward himself than his sibling. Streke, as many had come to realize, was one with a pragmatic and worrisome mind. It often suddenly flipped direction without warning which unfortunately left him utterly confused at his own thoughts and feelings. Switching at random from not wanting to understand to denying what he has known all along. Then at the most baffling moment he would suddenly accept reality and twist it to his favor. Unfortunately for Streke, reality could not be changed on a whim, and even more unfavorable for him was his completely realistic yet hopeful brother; who even at that simple moment interrupted his curious sense of quietude.
“I am excited, but we don’t even know where the council is, except that it’s somewhere in the Far East mountains, and everyone knows how far their reaches stretch.” Streke hissed angrily, he didn’t like having things put in a negative aspect for him, much less by his younger brother… he felt he could do that plenty well on his own.
“I know that, but what choice do we have. Drateco said that to find out what’s going on we have to meet the council…” he raised his head and frowned, “The haven lands are in the same direction anyway, we might as well find out what the old drake meant by them being broken.”
Wynd smiled at his curiously pleasant brother, and sailed on calmly through the night, the dunes below rose and fell like the waves on the surf.
As the night wavered on Wynd grew heavy eyed and unconsciously sailed lower to the earth. A sharp scent pricked its way to his nose and he looked about with interest. Something he hadn’t seen in a long time was very near, a cloud of dust whisked across the dunes leaving a trail of paw prints in its wake. “Streke did you see that?”
Streke looked up casually he was following a completely different scent trail, his ears pricked up. “Hmm?” he cast his gold eyes across the desert but the fleeting image he had spotted disappeared into the wind, leaving a trail of foot prints.
Wynd whispered excitedly, “There! On the ridge!”
He soared lower over to the dunes, following the prints. A flash of fur, a glint of teeth, and it had disappeared once more into the wind.
Where did it go?
Wynd and Streke crisscrossed over the scent trails and flew closer together as the trails converged and the paw prints seemed to be following the footprints. Wynd looked unfeeling as the tracks fell into place one behind the other, the four legged tracks slowly gaining on the two legged. The first set he knew, but the second?
Whatever it is, it’s hunting…
Just then a huge wave of sand crashed down over the trail and the prints were gone. Streke looked up to the sky confused and slowly grew a worried look upon his jaw. A shadow was cast over the desert as a great wave of sand bore down on them with such force it sent them hurtling into the air. Wynd roared and launched, twisting himself away from the torrent, “Sandstorm!”
The wind picked up and cast sand about, grazing their wings and buffeting their eyes. As a gold wave of sand swelled, a breeze rushed over the land and threw a hurricane of dunes into the sky. The cloud swirled into a tornado of sand. Wynd and Streke felt pain as the sand scratched like sandpaper against their sky soft wings.
“C’mon, we have to get out of this!” yelled Streke through the torrent, but it was to no use. The sun was rising quickly and as the darkness turned to light it brewed up a terrifying force. Streke roared in the fury of sand and looked through the stinging onslaught. His spiny nose stung from the sharp grains, bruising his face and scraping his eyes like glass. Wynd shook his neck furiously and ducked under as another wave of sand came upon him and panted as it rolled over him. “Look out!” yelled Streke as another wave of sand flew past.
I don’t remember the old drake saying anything about a sandstorm in the prophecy!
Wynd dodged through the worst of it, they flew as high as possible trying to escape it, but as they did so Wynd realized they weren’t getting anywhere. Every time they tried to flee, the strong wind just pulled them back. Again and again they were tossed, and never seemed to move anywhere, as if the storm was stopping time. The two of them flew frantically with wild looks in their eyes, looks of fear.
The storm sand blasted them and flung them low across the desert where a great shadow was looming. They looked up in horror; a giant wall of sand was plowing through the desert straight toward them! Propelled by the wind storms fury; it blasted dunes away as if they were merely leaves on the autumn wind, and tossed mountains of sand upon the desert. Throwing them about like a tsunami and crashing them down to the red earth. Streke yelled to his brother, horrified and filled with rage, “Move! Get out of here!”
Streke fled and attempted to fly over the sandstorm as it billowed forever closer. Wynd looked around in a desperate panic as his brother disappeared into the wall of sand. It’s gaping mouth opened up like a monster waiting to swallow them whole. As the maw of the sandstorm began to close around him he called to his brother. A flash of blue and black was barely visible but it was clear to Wynd that Streke couldn’t make it through to him.
The sand began to funnel him deeper into the storm and Wynd coughed as sand filled his lungs. Wynd pumped his wings with vigor, so hard he like he was going to black out.
For Wynd, time suddenly had come to an abrupt and indefinite stop. A scream filled the dawning sky, a splash of red, and then silence. The shriek filled his brain with shock and like a trigger, his mind snapped. Wynd froze and the blue black fleeting body of his brother seemed to freeze with him, the white gold sand went dark.
Wynd’s eyes turned blank and clouded over with grey, the cry faded into the distance yet still echoed around in his head. Darkness crept upon Wynd as if millions of spiders had cast their webs about the world.
Then there was nothing but the empty blackness of eternal night. Wynd was blind.
A spark of light filled his head and the darkness faded into twilight, he was blind, yet still seeing. But not through his eyes, no, he looked up with a nonexistent body. Haze was all that was visible but slowly it lifted and he could see his lifeless gold green body being tossed in the storm.
What? I’m in the sky but my body… I can see it!
A swirl of mist shifted his gaze his mind whirled as a vision came to him. He saw his brother and himself safe but where? Wynd felt desperate he was in his own head again yet still blind, he searched the recesses of his mind until he was no longer searching his past memories; he was searching new ones, a memory of something that hadn’t happened yet. He saw it, and grabbed at it.
Wynd snapped awake with feelings of anger and frustration as the brilliant gold color flooded back to his eyes. Whatever it was he couldn’t hold it. Wynd growled and pulled himself away from the storm as power and warmth surged back into his body.
Maybe it was enough though.
Wynd didn’t know what had happened but he no longer cared all that mattered was the present.
“Streke! This way!” he roared, and dove with all his strength under the torrent of sand.
Streke reared with confusion, he had seen something as well, yet his vision filled him with fear instead of hope. He felt shock and reared as the strength poured back into his veins, “Wynd! Where are you!?”
Scales bristling, Streke shook himself awake and just in time to spot the flashing color of green and gold and hear his brothers’ calls. He whirled about and dove through the storm after Wynd.
With the storms fury roaring behind them, they dove with all their strength. A small scratch in the earth shielded from the sandstorm lay at the foot of a mountainous dune. Surrounded by an olive tree it dipped into the earth forming a small cave away from the wind. Wynd headed for it with Streke trailing quickly behind. Wynd glanced back occasionally, feeling odd that he was the leader for once.
His muscles felt torn as he thrust his huge bat-like wings forward and pulled them back jutting himself into the sky like an arrow. Streke coughed as sand filled his lungs but his attention was stolen away by a sudden flash of shadow. He peered up inquisitively and fell back from the sky in horror… the gaping wall of sand was headed straight for them.
“Wynd pull back! The sandstorm, we’ll never make it through in time!” he roared, pleading through the howling winds.
But Wynd was already making his way through and would not turn back or could not hear his brother. For as he and the unworldly force drew closer and the shadow of the monster fell upon him. He did not fear, for he had seen the future. They would be safe there.
Streke had already swept around and was headed the other way when out of the corner of his eye he spotted Wynd still charging through, “Idiot!”
Wynd felt his wings being buffeted by the sand as he flew. The wall was nearly upon him now, his wings were throttled to the very bone and were already tearing at places where the wind had wretched them.
A little further, almost there…
The skeletal wall seemed to reach out its claws and grab at him attempting pull him in. It slashed left and right piling dunes up that would test even the strongest of desert nomads. Wynd looked up hopefully, at least until he saw his fate, when a sight worse than a ghosts filled his vision leaving the color draining from his face. Surely, it was his death. A banshee’s wail seemed to pierce his mind, and then he was crushed.
The wall hit him and in the roar of the wind you couldn’t even hear the sickly thud or thrashing of limbs. Or the miserable roar that filled the sky. Just the sound of the storm, as if it were the same deathly omen that had ravaged the tower so many moons ago. Then there was nothing but darkness and the sounds of the hurricane still billowing above him.
Is this what it feels like to meat death?
Wynd couldn’t move he felt paralyzed yet he was breathing and he could still feel the beat of his huge heart. A sudden force of shock rippled down his spine and he shook awake.
Am I dreaming again?
He was conscious yet all he could see and feel was darkness, then a light seared his eyes and he was free. Streke rocketed into him, the force shocked him awake and he could move again, and then came the realization. He was inside the wall, and a stinging wave of sound hit him like a twister as his senses snapped open. He had been sucked in past the hollow; he had to get out before the wall overtook it!
The sandstorm wailed around him sending him tumbling from the skies, Streke yelled bitterly as the two of them fell. They opened up their wings simultaneously and rocketed across the gold and red sand. Whirling up a sandstorm of there own as they blew up dust. Wynd and Streke sped forward and dashed through the whipping wind and across the searing desert; the wall of sand was just about to crash down on the hollow. Wynd pulled forward and crashed into it folding his wings up just as they were about to crack against its walls. Streke landed nimbly beside his awkward brother but instead of scorn he looked at him with worry. Wynd picked himself as they were blown about inside the cave and they hunkered down to wait out the storm.
Streke looked outside from the hollow. Sand was being blown furiously off the crest of the mountainous dunes; he scowled and looked at Wynd with his eyes glinting gold.
“What were you thinking?! You could have been torn to bits!”
The green one took little notice of his brother at first, staring off into the distance, “We would have been anyway, better to be injured and safe then dead” he mumbled while silently curling his lip.
Streke looked skeptical but remained silent, instead eyeing Wynd nervously. He settled down with his scaly hide to the storm and rested his head on his clawed hands. Outside the sandstorm hummed with rhythm and scraped against the rocks, sand blasting them smooth. Streke shook his scales as the sand had the same effect on them and they felt like they had been welded together.
Streke cursed under his breath and gazed out into the desert. Sadly all that met his gaze was a torrent whizzing copper and gold. He hummed silently to calm himself.
Sun rained through the gaps in the storm letting out occasional glimpses of the aqua blue sky, but as the hurricane wall slowly overtook the hollow and ripped the green olive tree from the earth, all fell into shadow. The wall hummed with wind until darkness took their world into twilight once more and cast a dreary sleep down upon their dark eyes. Sending them both into dreams filled with their prophesized gift of golden sight.