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Elsewhere – A place terribly close to the Sky
Terrakis
Despite the swelling of his lungs and opening wide of his throat, his breathing cannot keep pace with, nor match the strength of the aggressive movement of a wind that snatches air away from him by the lungful. Even had he not received so many wounds the simple struggle to breathe would have left him exhausted and weakened. As it was, his gambit of moving with violent speed even at the cost of breath succeeded only by the most narrow of margins. But it did succeed and it matters little that he stands so near to death himself when but a single blow more will tear the life from the body of the Hated. There is a hunger for death in the air, a hunger that chills even he who has so casually slaughtered so many, for this wind, it would seem, moves only to destroy the living and for no other reason, doing so not out of hatred, nor malice nor for any joy of killing, but simply because that is its only reason for moving at all. Even the Devourer who had adopted and raised him like a son was not so terrifying as this. His hatred for his opponent bursts once more into near rage.
To be humiliated to the extent that luck is required to defeat so small an opponent. To have to struggle even to breathe. To stand so long within the bitter embrace of this wind. To have been shown that real fear of dying exists within himself ........
He gasps out in his rage, unable even to complete a shout, and stepping forward swiftly closes the distance between himself and the place he had thrown his opponent. There is a hunger, a terrible appetite for death about the blade he swings with such terrible force. So great is the force of his strike that the stones are split and the earth is deeply scored, but there is no body to be struck. And when the blade is jerked free from the earth it holds not the stains of blood or sinew but a simple scrap of cloth that dances merrily in the wind.
[ 03-04-2005, 12:09 AM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]
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