06 July 2014

Merlin 3:44 “The Serpent Servant”

Merlin 3:44 “The Serpent Servant”

By that which wills yore, there are other fires with deeper fuel and brighter flames, of which one is shining on the face of Sino, who openly despises Merlin, despises power, a renaissance tyrant in the midst of lesser tyrants, speaking to the flames.

Sino: Purity fire bring me to the taker and wrest me from the maker, a servant I seek, or many unspoken words, bring me a servant with scaly armor, crawling from thee a messenger of teeth whose only grasp is to feast.

Scrying, the art of using magic to converse with the universes, by means of crystal glass, the dimensions in whose weaknesses reveal places on a map for a wicked seed, a living fiend in control of venomous wrath, beset closest Sino who appraises a glowing location, a starving point between boundaries and roads. The map and the courier are to be ophidian, serpentine, finding Sino’s treasure will be treacherous in the rough location, a fallen fortress of ice, a damaged tower of lies, melted if not molten, washed if ever stolen, much razed from the confines of a citadel, or buried in the savaged wrath thereupon, but in the aftermath certainly nonetheless.

A snake crawls thru the sweltering jungle, to the murky swamps, to the quiet forest, to restless sea, along the soft coast, to the brilliant plains and inland. The fifteen feet serpent approaches the hammered mountain and onto it, passing thru heavy stones and over tiny pebbles to and thru the ruins of a fortress once called the city of glass, formerly an ice magic temple of frost and ice of spires that from a certain distance resembled a crystal tear from the sky as dawn overcame it. Now it appears no more than an etching of political collapse, leaving where glacial pressure and the pursuant flood of its demise have destroyed its foundation and washed away its ornamentation, a stone garden labyrinth of antiquity. The lengthy serpent passes thru its old quarter, surmises the terrain and finds the egg, pausing and circling it. In an eventual approach, the snake swallows it then leaves on direct path to Sino.

The massive serpent approaches Sino using large swaths from left to right many times to bring its length to a gathered area, rising as if to stand as best a snake can, wavering.

Sino: Do you have the egg?
Ophirus: It isssss… inssssside me, masssssster.
Sino: The silence will come swiftly.

Sino quietly bows and lops off its head, a death of instinct only seconds, the head bites and the body flails. Sino makes a fire in the forest near his dominion, and then begins to slice a single lengthy wound unto the swell, carving for the opal and retrieving it, a bloodied frost colored stone confining a liquid darkness and other impurities. He tosses the stone, the egg, aside and cuts a piece of hide for its commodity, then a steak for supper. The egg is clear by reckoning, and reflecting the forest, containing an embryonic carnage of old forbidden magic.